Chapitre 41: 41. Forever
A/N: A guest by the name of Me requested Mileven at a wedding and it turned into one of the floofiest things I've ever written. Enjoy!
Mike has never been high or drunk in his life, but he has a suspicion that this is what it feels like.
The atmosphere of the day is doing something to him. His uncle is finally getting married to his wonderful girlfriend, Lynn, and while he's beyond happy for them, he's ecstatic that he was allowed to bring El along under the explanation that she's never been to a wedding. His girl had been sighing over the weddings on her soap operas for months and she lit up when he mentioned the engagement. She'd tried being subtle in her efforts to get an invitation, but subtlety has never been her strong suit and within days, she'd gotten the approval that she could tag along too. Thank goodness, because he doesn't think he'd survive a day of stifling formalities and awkward family conversations alone. And, oh, she's made it a thousand times better.
He'd sat next to her during the ceremony, his hand clasped between both of hers. She looked stunning, the pale purple dress she'd borrowed from Nancy cascading down her form elegantly, complementing the brown of her eyes nicely and tan of her skin beautifully. He missed most of the proceedings purely because he was watching the dreamy look on her face and noticed the way she teared up when the bride walked down the aisle, sighed wistfully as the bride and groom met at the altar and squeezed his hand tenderly during the vows.
He squeezed back knowing in his heart that they would have this someday. He wanted to marry her. Oh, how badly he wanted to marry her, to stand in front of the world and declare how much he loved his girl over and over again. The watery, hopeful, loving smile she shared with him as the newlywed couple kissed was enough to make him hopeful that maybe she wanted that too.
The joyous nature of the ceremony raised the spirits of the crowd dramatically and as they transitioned to the reception, he found himself unable to detach from his girlfriend, too swept up in the celebration of love to leave her side. And his relatives have taken notice, leaving him all blushing and stuttering.
"So, Mike, you got the ring yet?"
"You'll look beautiful in a wedding gown, sweetheart."
"Mikey boy, you better invite me when you two get hitched."
On and on, it seemed like everyone took advantage of the way he held on tight to her hand and she rested her head cozily against his shoulder. But El took it in stride and he tried his best to as well. "When we're ready," becomes her instant reply to the relatives who stopped them as they make their way through the ballroom towards their table.
When we're ready.
Could he have found a more perfect girl?
They finally settle where their cards spell their names in fancy letters and Mike nods to his parents, sticking his tongue out playfully at Holly, who reciprocates the gesture.
"Hello you two," Karen chirps. "El, did you enjoy your first ceremony?"
She nods, her dimples crinkling as her face lights up. "It was beautiful, I'm happy for them," she replies wistfully. "What was your wedding like?"
His mom's smile grows tight and Mike's stomach twists, knowing full well there's a reason that none of his parents' wedding pictures are displayed in their house.
"It was lovely," she settles on, glancing warily at Ted, who's observing the conversation with what appears to be little interest. He nods once as contribution and Mike feels El's fingers squeeze his tightly.
"I'm sure it was," she replies politely and Mike swallows, scrambling for something, anything to talk about other than their unstable marriage.
He's saved by the clinking of a glass and breathes a sigh of relief as the best man takes the stage and the room turns their attention to the front. She's sitting behind him and he feels more than hears her whisper, "I love you."
"I love you too. I promise we won't be like them," he whispers back as she rests her chin on his shoulder.
"Promise," she breathes. "We'll be different."
He grins and presses a quick kiss on her forehead, before chuckling at a quip the best man had made.
It's not hard to imagine the Party doing this at his wedding as a few more people get up and share their heartfelt speeches. He knows they'd tease the two of them relentlessly and he'd probably hide in his hands as they tell stories of how obviously head over heels he was, but neither he nor El would rather have anyone else. He'd never hear the end of it if he brought it up to them at this age, but one day. One day they'd be the wedding party and he could not be more excited.
The wave of embarrassment ends for his uncle and the DJ in the corner announces it's time for the first dance, inviting the newlywed couple to the floor. Lynn nearly drags him to the center of the room, but her husband doesn't seem to care, grinning at her brightly as the lights dim. A ballad Mike doesn't recognize begins to play, the beat soft and soulful, and the room watches as they begin to dance with one another. El quietly scoots her chair closer to him, close enough so that he can wrap his arm around her, tucking her into his side. She kisses his shoulder lightly, before resting her head against him as they watch the couple sway.
He wants that with her so badly, it hurts. All in good time, he reminds himself. What they have right now is amazing and there's no need to rush.
The song shifts to a similar ballad and the father of the bride rises from his seat. Lynn kisses her husband, whispering something in his ear, before crossing to meet her dad and Mike sucks in a breath.
He'd forgotten about this part.
He bites his lip, squeezing El harder as the father and daughter begin their beautiful dance and it isn't long before he feels her tears start to soak through his shirt.
Who would dance with El at her wedding? Unless Hopper miraculously reappeared...she wouldn't have a father figure. Sure, Joyce could always dance with her, or heck, maybe the men of the Party would, but he knows it wouldn't be the same. His heart twists and he rests his forehead against her hair, staying quiet to let her have a moment as she trembles.
The world has been outlandishly unfair to her, he thinks as he holds her tight. She deserves double in love and happiness what she's felt in pain and he knows he'll stop at nothing to pour that onto her every day.
Eventually, the song progresses to a more upbeat pop tune, but El makes no effort to move, so neither does he until she stirs and presses a kiss to the underside of his jaw. He hums and looks down at her, brushing his fingers along her arm as she wipes at her face. After a beat, she sniffs and lets go of him. "Dance with me?" she murmurs. As if he would say no.
"Sure. Just as long as you forgive me when I step on your feet again," he says as he stands up and she laughs, a nice departure from her demeanor earlier.
"I don't mind," she tells him, taking his hand and he follows her out to the dance floor as a song from a few years ago begins to blast. He grins. She loves this song.
She squeals and drags him the rest of the way before turning on her heel and grabbing his other hand. They figured out very quickly that neither of them were great at moving in rhythm alone, much less together, so when they dance (which El still loves doing despite their...limitations), it's tame. Hands clasped tightly, feet moving side to side, arms attempting to sway to the beat, it's fun, something special just for them.
It's easy to get lost in this rhythm, and he does, watching her as she laughs and bops to the beat. He loves moving with her (because let's be honest, he's not dancing, more so moving), letting her take the lead and dance about freely. The songs move from one to another smoothly, but he's not paying attention to anything else but having fun with his girl.
"Did I ever show you how Hopper danced?" she says in the middle of one of the songs and he has to do a double-take because she seldom says his name out loud.
"No, do you want to show me?" He stutters out, watching her closely for any signs of sadness, but she let go of his hands confidently and begins to move her hips, shimmying slightly up and down, her hands in motion with her movements.
It's the most adorable thing he's ever seen.
"That's really how the chief of police danced?" He asks with a grin and she nods happily, adding a little twirl to her routine, causing him to chuckle.
"So like this?" He imitates her movements and he feels silly, but she throws back her head, laughing freely and his chest feels like it's glowing. They dance like that for a few beats, giggling at themselves, before the look in her eyes turns to a heavier one.
Before he can ask her what she's thinking about, she closes the space between them and stands on her tiptoes. He bends down to meet her and she presses her lips against his with a sigh, the kiss short, full and sweet. He's breathless as she pulls back and by some coincidence, the music shifts to a ballad, low and sultry and he tightens his grip on her waist. Without missing a beat, her hands slide from his chest to the back of his neck, her fingers locking firmly and they begin to sway in a rhythm only meant for them.
How long they danced like that is lost on him. It could've been seconds or hours, he wasn't paying attention to anything that was the girl in his arms. They slowly drew closer to one another, some magnetic force closing the distance between them until suddenly, Mike blinks and her head is against his chest and his temple is against her hair as he cradles her gently. She's humming along to the song and she's warm and soft and so, so beautiful. Without a second thought, he nudges her with his shoulder and his heart stops when she blinks up at him with her Bambi brown eyes, all trusting and content. Something inside him sighs and he lowers her lips to hers because he can, enjoying the pleased sound she makes and her hands tighten behind his neck.
She kisses him back firmly and he leans into her, their embrace evolving into something more passionate as he pulls her as close to him as he can, their lips meeting over and over again and he feels like he's about to melt from the heat of the love and longing in his veins.
Marry me, marry me, marry me, his heart pounds out and he knows he'll never want anything ever more than her.
Distantly, he hears a wolf-whistle and someone calls something vaguely obscene in their direction. They break at the same time, chests heaving and lips swollen and he barely has time to register his cousin smirking at them before he's being tugged, El's hand firmly in his. "Come on," she mutters, leading him to the doors of the ballroom. They push through them quickly and he heads for the first hallway he sees, anxious to pick up where left off.
As he pulls her around the corner, she uses the momentum and he can't breathe as she gently pushes him against the wall, molding their lips together and raking her fingers through her hair. He groans at her touch and his kiss is heavy against her lips, falling further and deeper into their soft, smooth warmth. A thought floats past that they still could be seen but he really doesn't care. He will stay here, his hands gripping her hips, her chest presses against his, for as long as he'd like, thank you very much.
El, though, has other plans and as he desperately kisses down her jawline, she gasps and takes a step back, then another and another, dragging him with her. He blearily follows her, his gaze hooked on the longing in her eyes and the sugar-sweet smile that matches it, beaming for him. He closes the distance, kissing her temple, her cheek, because dammit she's beautiful and she giggles as she continues to move backwards to the other side of the hall, her hand reaching behind her for the doorknob when she's close enough. He grins as he hears her turn it with a click, and she grasps his suit collar, tugging lightly as the door swings open and pulls him into the room.
He's so entranced by the blush of her cheeks that he almost misses it, but her choked gasp rips his focus from her and he glances up to see the room is already occupied
His aunt of a few hours is draped across the couch that looks to be straight from a British castle, the hem of her wedding dress spilling off the side carelessly. Her veil is haphazardly placed on the coffee table and next to it, a bottle of wine that's almost empty. He's surprised to see that the glass in her hands is almost empty as well, but what he's even more surprised to see is the glass that his mom holds as she lounges in the chair across from the bride.
He thought she quit alcohol.
In the second before they're noticed, he registers the mascara stained tear tracks and the devastated, drunk tone of his aunt's voice and his heart sinks.
"Michael!" The woman calls to him and he feels El shrink beside him, pressing herself into his side.
"Mike, El, what're you doing?" His mom asks, narrowing her eyes and Mike goes to blurt out an apology, but Lynn's voice overlaps his.
"Don't get married, Michael," she slurs loudly. "Love isn't real. Sweetie, I know you think you love him, but men—"
"Mike, you should go," his mom says urgently, pleading him with glassy eyes and he gulps, before turning on his heel and practically running to get out of there, El close behind him. They stand there in shock once he shuts the door behind him, bodies frozen and eyes wide at what they'd just seen.
He could've sworn they were happy. They looked so joyous and carefree when they said their vows, promising their lives to one another and he could tell that that's what they wanted. He'd heard his uncle talk about this woman for years now, they were supposed to be happy and together. Did they not understand how marriage works?
Or is it he who doesn't understand?
His aunt's muffled voice raises dangerously behind them, jolting them back into reality and he moves first, the pained look on El's face stabbing his heart.
"Follow me," he mumbles, grabbing her hand and he leads her blindly down the hall, noticing how her footsteps are unstable as if she'd fall over if he wasn't holding onto her. He glances up and down the hallway, looking for another door and finally finds one at the end. "In here," he whispers and opens it, relieved to see it's a smaller version of the room they had previously stumbled into. Shutting the door hastily behind him, he feels El let go of his hand and he watches as she crosses the room and plops down on the couch in the corner, her brow furrowed.
"El, I'm so sorry—"
"Mike, what if we're wrong?"
"What?"
"What if—what if she's right? What if marriage ruins love? What does that mean for—for us?"
"Hey, she was drunk," he interjects as he makes his way across the room, settling on the cushions beside her. "She didn't know what the hell she was talking about. And besides, we're not them. We're not anybody but us. What happened to 'we'll be different'?"
With a sigh, she shrugs. "Maybe we will be, but—your parents, Will's dad, Dustin's dad...why do people get married if they don't love each other?"
For the hundredth time, he curses his parents for being such a bad example of a healthy relationship. They're getting better and he's happy for the direction they're moving, but it's a shaky direction. It's just now that he's starting to believe that they married for love. It only took them sixteen years.
"I...I don't know," he admits and her face falls. "I thought my uncle loved Lynn before today. But maybe marriage does things to people. Maybe it makes them afraid of commitment or some crap like that."
"What if...what if we get married and it breaks us?"
Her voice is small, her eyes still far away, gazing at the broken promise they had just seen and Mike moves closer to her on instinct, grabbing her hands and she warily looks up at him.
"El, a lot of things have tried to break us. More than is normal, I suppose. But we're still together. That's—that's really cool and the relationships we've seen fall apart? They didn't have the strength that we do. I believe in us, in this," he finishes, gesturing between them before taking her hands again and tracing circles around her knuckles.
She seems to accept this on some level, her lips pursed together and she nods slowly, still not meeting his gaze. When she shifts, he catches a glimpse of fear in her eyes and he softens.
"What are you afraid of, El?" he whispers. Her shoulders slump and he can tell her avoidance of his gaze isn't because she's skittish anymore, but rather because she's thinking.
"I'm afraid you're going to realize that—that you'd be stuck with me and freak out and leave. Marriage is huge, Mike. You'd be stuck with me. Forever. I don't even want to be stuck with me forever."
He knows she has insecurities, bad ones, but her words punch him in the chest, hard. She keeps going before he can stop her.
"You don't have to marry me, you know. I don't—I don't want to hold you back or be pre-sump-tuous. If you—if you meet another girl, Mike, please marry her if she's better. Most girls are."
She says it so plainly like it's an obvious fact that the whole world should know and he almost feels like throwing up, he's that horrified. The edges of his vision grow fuzzy and he's aware that his mouth is opened in shock, but he can't seem to close it.
"El Hopper, what are you saying?"
She recoils instantly, ripping her hands from his and wrapping her arms around herself, shrinking into the couch, but he keeps going.
"What have I done to show you that I don't want you to be my wife someday?" His heart pounds—he hasn't said it out loud yet, but this is no time to shy away from his doubts because she has them too and he's baffled.
"Of course I want to marry you, I don't want to marry anyone but you. It's all I think about these days, is getting to spend the rest of my life with you. That's all I want, El. Getting to marry you would be an honor, that I do not take for granted, by the way. It's not something I want because I have to. Please believe me, I want it because I love you."
"I'm sorry," she whispers and his heart clenches even more at the ambiguity of her statement. Sorry because she doesn't believe he loves her? Sorry because she has doubts? Sorry because she doesn't want to be with him anymore?
"Why are you sorry, El? You've done nothing wrong, I just—"
"No, sorry I feel this way. I believe you, I promise I do. It's hard not to worry that you'll suddenly change your mind as soon as it's real, though. That you'll get scared and back out or shut down or leave me or—or something. Sorry."
He shakes his head, scooting even closer and reaches for her hands again, grasping them tightly.
"Look, it's normal to have fears. Everyone does, and especially about something so huge. And yeah, what we've seen hasn't been the best example, has it?" He comments with a grim smile and she shakes her head, pressing her lips together. Her eyes are hopeful and he's falling into them.
"It won't be perfect. But I know we can make it work, El. And we don't have to rush anything, we have plenty of time to just enjoy where we're at right now. We can worry about marriage later, I—I just want you right now and we can figure it out as we go. Is that okay?"
A small smile turns her lips up and he strokes her knuckles with his thumbs, the anxious knot in his stomach slowly starting to unravel. He truly does believe they'll be okay. Nothing in their journey lines up with the journeys of the relationships they've watched fall apart. He understands her fears, he does, but his faith in them is strong. They're going to make it. And he can't wait until she gets to be his wife.
Her brow creases once again and he holds his breath.
"But what if, Mike?"
"We won't."
She looks at him, really looks at him, finally. He holds her gaze steadily, breathing through the urges to look away. It's intense, but so are they.
"I want to marry you," she whispers and his stomach has never flipped so fast.
"Someday. I want to marry you too, El."
With a start, he realizes she's rubbing circles on his left ring finger and he swallows roughly, the gravity of her implication heavy and wonderful. He raises her hand to his lips, kissing it once, twice, and she giggles softly.
"Are you ready to head back out there?" he murmurs as the moment passes and she nods, following his lead when he stands up and takes her with him.
"Mike."
"Hmm?"
"I love you."
"I love you too."
Gone are the days when those words get stuck in his throat, choppy and rushed when they finally break free. His need to let her know what he feels for her overcame his bashfulness a while ago and he leaned into it, his expressions becoming more and more confident. It makes her stand a little straighter, her eyes shine a little brighter and he adores her.
They make their way out of the room with their hands tightly clasped and as they push open the door to the ballroom, he sees that all the women of the party are heading towards the middle of the room. The bride, who looks like she wasn't crying ten minutes ago, is standing at the front of the pack, a bouquet in her hand and El looks up at him expectantly, the question evident on her face.
"Yeah, of course, go join them," he tells her and she smiles, before skipping over to the group. He had explained this tradition to her before they came and her excitement for it made him blush at the time. Now, he just chuckles and makes his way back to their table, taking a seat as the women begin counting down. When they reach zero, his aunt turns and throws the bouquet and it sails up, up, up before arching down—
And lands with a plop in Nancy's hands.
Her face turns a bright red, but she looks giddy and pleased as she peeks a look at Jonathan, who's standing off to the side and Mike can see the same goofy grin on his face as well. She waltzes over to him, but he stops watching them as he sees his girlfriend wiggling her way out of the crowd. She reaches for his hands when he's close enough and he rises, grasping them and pulling her close enough to kiss her forehead.
"Someday," he hears her murmur and he grins.
"Someday," he whispers back. "Promise." He scatters kisses down her temple, her cheek, her jaw, whispering his promise to her over and over against her skin until she cups his face in her hands and brings her lips to his. He kisses her deeply until she pulls back just in the slightest.
"Someday, I promise," she tells him. "I'll say yes."
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone