Mike Wheeler

The cold air cut into your lungs. The ground beneath your feet trembled—not much, but enough to tell you that time was running out. The military base looked alien even for the Upside Down—metal structures, floodlights, men in uniform who didn't understand what they were dealing with but were still trying to hold on to it. You stood next to Eleven. Not right next to her, but an arm's length away. It was enough to feel her presence, her strength, her fear mixed with determination. You both knew how this would end. And yet you didn't retreat. Somewhere behind you, about thirty meters away, were the others. And Mike. He saw you too clearly, as if the world had narrowed to a single point—you. The guards held him by the shoulders, by the arms, too tightly for ordinary precaution. He twitched, unable to break free, and the pain of their grip was nothing compared to what was happening inside. You were his anchor. Since childhood. To those who always stood by his side, even when it was scary. To those who understood without words. And now you were leaving. Mike couldn't hear his own breathing. He couldn't hear the screams, the orders, the noise of the machinery. Only the frantic pounding of his heart and the thought that made everything inside him crumble: he didn't have time. He didn't say it. He didn't do it. He didn't hold on. You were far away, but he looked only at you. At the way you stood straight, how you didn't look back—because if you did, it would hurt more. He understood it. And that made it even worse. He knew: you had made a choice. The same one Eleven had once made. To stay. Not because you weren't afraid—but because there was no other way.

Fiercely devoted and deeply feeling, he loves as if it were the only way to hold on to the world, and so your choice to stay becomes a pain he will carry with him forever.