AN: This song will ALWAYS give me sad feels. I was really fucking close to making them have Eggo tattoos but I felt like that would be too immature for this, and the only thing I could think of were the matching heart tatoos, so please forgive me if that's too cliche :(
I don't love this... maybe my inspiration is running out D:
Btw, this is like a prequel to Gracias.
Also, I know Radiohead wasn't around that much in their time, and that Nude was (officialy anyways) released literally in 2006, but I think that one set the mood, so sue me.
Review and tell me you hate me.
We'd make out in your mustang to Radiohead.
To anyone passing, the slightly moving car parked on the side of the road was a weird sight, but to El and Mike it was the most normal thing in the world.
Their heavy breathing echoed through the car as their lips met sloppily, hips pressing together and tongues lazily rolling against the other as they lay on the backseat of Mike's Mustang.
They murmured between kisses, breathlessly looking at each other as their eyes grew heavy and blood pumped strongly through their veins.
The soothing voice of Yorke playing through the stereo set the mood, and the couple could only move against each other, running their hands across the other's face and body.
Moments like this, where they could be alone and in peace, were hard to get. They told their friends they were going for a drive, and it resulted in them making a detour to have some alone time.
They continued to make out while the night fell upon them; but that didn't matter, they only had eyes for each other.
And on my 18th birthday, we got matching tattoos.
Buzzing sounds were heard all around the parlor as the door closed behind El.
Her eyes danced around the dark lighting and took in the colorful designs that lined the walls.
She gulped with nerves as Mike guided her further in by the hand, watching as a bald man in a leather vest carefully applied red ink inside the needle for the Phoenix he was tattooing on a woman's lower back.
She clung to Mike's hand as they reached the corner of the room, where a girl with long red hair was waiting for them. El took in her heavily tattooed arms and decided she was pretty. Her hair was the color of red velvet and it looked silky and soft; her smile and kind eyes made El feel more comfortable, and she would cling to that feeling as later on the same blue eyes watched the needle carefully as it went inside her skin.
Pain made itself visible and El gasped along with it, but her eyes never strayed from the dark ones in front of her, and her other hand never stopped clutching Mike's; when it was Mike's turn, she would do the same for him.
Later, when the redheaded girl explained the cleaning routine they would have to make with their brand new tattoos, El lightly touched the bandaged half-heart that now obscured her previous 011 tattoo. Her nail stopped on the M inside the heart and she smiled.
Once they got out of the tattoo parlor and thanked the nice girl Kali had convinced to tattoo her (without Hopper's approval), they put their wrists together and admired the full heart their matching tattoos made. She lightly touched the E inside Mike's half and shared a meaningful smile with her boyfriend.
Hopper would blow a gasket when he found out Kali had signed as her guardian, as would Mrs. Wheeler for her 18 year old's new acquirement, but for now the couple settled for joining their lips and snuggling together in the backseat of the car.
Used to steal your parents' liquor and climb to the roof.
Talk about our future like we had a clue.
Never thought that one day I'd be losing you.
They giggled together as Mike grabbed a bottle of his mom's collection of Californian Merlot and quietly sneaked through his house.
His dad's snores could be heard from the floor downstairs, as the two slipped inside his bedroom and closed the door behind them.
He took a swig of the wine and then carefully tipped the bottle to let her have a drink from it as she came closer.
They shared a quick kiss, before she took the bottle from him; Mike lifted his window and made his way out cautiously as the warm wind hit his face. El passed the wine to him and then held her hands out to let him help her out.
Once they settled down, he took her in his arms and they took turns drinking from the bottle.
This was a recent habit; they would wait until his mom went out with Holly, and they would steal a bottle from her collection to share it when they went out to the roof outside Mike's window.
The warmth of the alcohol and the hot summer night made them drowsy, and they would spend hours wrapped in each other talking about whatever came to mind; often they would find their conversation leading to the inevitable end of high school, and the near future plans for college.
El was so sure they would make it work, already planning all the visits she would make to him while he was in MIT (if he got in) and even if she was accepted to Bloomington, her plans wouldn't change.
So they drank half the bottle, saving the other half for another roof talk, and got inside to lock lips in peace.
The thought of them ever being over never crossed her mind, but it did cross Mike's.
I was June and you were my Johnny Cash
Never one without the other, we made a pact.
Sometimes when I miss you, I put those records on.
El and Mike.
Mike and El.
They were always together.
There wasn't a day they weren't attached to the hip, and that was more than fine to El. Mike was everything to her, and the thought of them being apart nearly killed her.
At the end, they did lose each other.
Mike breaking up with her tore her heart to shreds, and even though he loved her enough to want to keep her in his life, being friends would never be enough for her.
That's why she avoided him for so long.
The months between their break up and the first semester of college were absolute shit to her.
She would cry herself to sleep all the time, always trying to be quiet and drown her sobs, but Hopper was always there soothing her and cursing that Wheeler boy.
There were times she couldn't even will herself out of bed; her dad was worried she was sinking into depression, but the only thing that was sinking was her heart.
Once when she was walking across the university campus, Radiohead's Nude blared through the speakers, and she had to sit on a bench to stop her knees from hitting the ground.
She hadn't thought of him in weeks, but just the first accords of the song sent billions of memories running through her head. She skipped Counseling, made her way back to her dorm, and spent the entirety of her free period crying over Michael Wheeler and his stupid excuses while listening to his favorite songs.
She missed him so much. She missed his voice, his eyes, his arms, his warmth, his kisses, his stupid smile, his stupid laugh, and his stupid love.
Silent tears ran down her face as she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to stop the sob that struggled to escape from her throat.
Damn him. They could've been perfect. He always told her he'd love her forever, but he lied.
And she hated him.
She hated him because she couldn't stop loving him.
Someone said you had your tattoo removed.
Saw you downtown singing the blues.
It's time to face the music, I'm no longer your muse.
When she was feeling a little masochist, she would take out the Polaroid the redheaded girl took of them the day they got their tattoos.
Her pointer finger would always circle the M on her wrist while her thumb would trace his handsome face on the photo.
She wondered if Kali was right. Should she fill in the M and remove him piece by piece from her? She knew she would never be able to wipe him out; he was forever attached to her.
And if she wanted to cling to her first love no matter how painful it was, she decided that was all right. It didn't matter if her E was no longer present on his wrist, his M would always be with her.
It didn't matter if he didn't miss her like she missed him, or if he didn't love her anymore like she still loved him; he would always be a part of her, and because she loved him so greatly, he would remain with her even if she did move on.
It didn't matter if she wasn't his inspiration anymore, like he always said she was; it didn't matter if she was no longer his muse.
It would be okay. She would go on.
All this money can't buy me a time machine, no
Can't replace you with a million rings, no
I should'a told you what you meant to me, whoa
Cause now I pay the price
Even though she knew the break up wasn't her fault, she still felt guilty.
Not because she thought she was the one to blame for Mike's insecurities, but because she failed to realize he wasn't happy anymore.
She knew pondering over the what if's was not healthy, but she couldn't help herself. Mike was the love of her life.
She wasn't stupid; she knew a love like theirs wasn't something many people encountered at their age. Not even in a lifetime. And that's why she had cherished it so much.
But they let themselves drift apart. She ignored him and he let her. And she regretted not saying goodbye when she left, because that would have given her a bit more closure.
She had been so resentful and hurt, but still so sad that she couldn't bear to look into his eyes and say goodbye Mike once more.
And she regretted it, because Mike Wheeler had given everything of him. He was so caring and loving, and he meant so much for her. He was her entire world, he cared too much for her, and all his insecurities made him want to let her find "someone better"; but he forgot to hear her out first.
Most of all, she regretted not saying she loved him.
She was always honest with him, and even though she hated him when he broke them up, she regretted not saying that to him when they left.
He was as pure as gold. He was irreplaceable.
And she lost him.
In another life I would be your girl.
We'd keep all our promises, be us against the world.
She would always wonder about the what if's.
What if Mike never doubted himself? What if he confessed his insecurities, instead of locking them up until he couldn't hold them in anymore? What if she realized Mike was pulling away from her sooner? Would they still be together? Would she be able to save their relationship from the fire?
What if he still loved her? What if she fought harder for them? What if he still wanted her like she wanted him? What if they let everything else behind them and went through the plans they made together?
In another life, I would make you stay.
So I don't have to say you were the one that got away.
The one that got away.
She would dream of her slapping him, kissing him, and fixing them.
She would shut his rambling, assure him he was the one for her, and demand him to kiss her.
They would be together when he moved to Massachusetts and when she installed herself at Bloomington.
They would visit over the weekends, and they would have nightly calls; they would tell each other how their day went and why were they stressed and they would express their worries.
And at the end, they would always end with an 'I love you'.
But it was all dreams and fantasies.
She lost him, and he lost her.