ByLertheory

This remarkable post by @hideaway311812 powerfully illuminates the fact that Will’s face-to-face confrontation with Vecna—and the psychologically manipulative monologue Vecna delivers in order to weaken and corrupt him—does not exploit only Will’s homosexuality. It also weaponizes his status as a survivor of abuse: abuse inflicted both by Vecna himself and by the society that failed to protect him.

When Will ultimately activates his powers, it is not solely the result of self-acceptance as a queer individual, nor only the acceptance of his feelings for Mike. It is also an act of reclamation. Will reclaims his agency as a victim who lost control of his own body on the very night Vecna forced that vine into his mouth. This moment marks the return of autonomy to someone from whom it was violently taken.

As I discussed in my analysis of Vecna’s speech to Will in episode 4, when Vecna shows Will a flashback meant to demonstrate that he “broke so easily,” we are shown the scene in which Will speaks to Joyce after the Mind Flayer has entered him on the baseball field. It is no secret that this entire sequence functions as a powerful allegory for sexual assault, and Will’s words afterward mirror with devastating accuracy the emotional aftermath experienced by survivors.

“I tried. I tried to make it go away. But it got me, Mum. I felt it... everywhere. Everywhere. I... I still feel it. I just want it to be over.”

Anyone who lives with post-traumatic stress resulting from such abuse—particularly when it occurs in childhood—understands precisely what Will is describing. These words capture, with painful clarity, the torture of continuing to exist while carrying that trauma within one’s body. Vecna deliberately uses this memory to reinforce his control, to convince Will that he has never truly belonged to himself—that his body and mind have been Vecna’s since that night in November 1983.

Compounding this violation is the response of the world around Will. Upon his return, instead of receiving empathy or understanding, he is met with shame and ridicule—branded with the nickname “Zombie Boy.” This is a disturbingly accurate reflection of how society so often treats survivors: by humiliating them, trivializing their pain, refusing to take them seriously, and ultimately pushing them to the margins. Before season 1, Will was bullied for being queer. By season 2, he is bullied for having survived.

This is precisely why the memories that brought Will back in season 2 are the very same memories that later allow him to activate his powers, reclaim control, and assert his agency. These three memories share something essential beyond love and joy: consent and agency.

Joyce recalls the Rainbow Ship Will drew. She explains that on his birthday, despite receiving numerous Star Wars toys—then the ultimate trend for children his age, especially for a nerd like Will—he chose instead to spend his time drawing, using every color from the box of crayons he had been given to create that Rainbow Ship. This was his choice. His desire took precedence over expectations, trends, and social norms. Will chose the simplicity of crayons to pursue his artistic passion rather than conforming to what was considered popular.

Jonathan speaks of building Castle Byers after Lonnie left. The day they created Will’s safe place—his space. A place with a password: without it, you were not allowed to enter, and even with it, you had to wait for Will to grant permission. Castle Byers is not merely a symbol of safety or childhood innocence; it is a symbol of Will’s boundaries being respected. The castle was conceived together, designed through Will’s sketches, and built collaboratively with Jonathan. It was a shared effort, born of mutual respect—but ultimately, it was Will’s decision to build it with his brother.

And finally, there is Mike.

Mike saw Will alone on the swings. He approached him—and he asked. He asked if Will wanted to be friends. Will said yes. Their very first meeting—one that irrevocably changed both of their lives and grew into a bond that would become unbreakable—was founded on the purest definition of consent. Will chose to say yes. It was his decision to allow Mike into his life. His consent.

The foundation of Will and Mike’s relationship—of their connection, their loyalty, and their love—is consent itself.

Thus, Vecna’s monologue directed at Will was not solely designed to wound him through his homosexuality or his love for Mike. It was also a deliberate attempt to reach the deepest layer of his suffering: that of a survivor still living with post-traumatic stress, a trauma that has shaped—but does not define—his being.

However, what is often overlooked is that the resurfacing of Will’s childhood memories—those moments of happiness anchored by his emotional pillars—and Robin’s words were not meant only to guide him toward queer self-acceptance. They also served to remind Will of something essential: he is not what was done to him when he was twelve. He is not the trauma he endured, nor the pain that has followed him ever since. The very core of his identity is not rooted in violence or suffering; it is rooted in love, joy, and above all in autonomy—in his individuality as a person, in his capacity to choose, in his own desires, feelings, and emotions.

Will is not a consequence of what happened to him. He has always been that joyful, carefree, passionate, and loving child. He is not broken, as Vecna insists. He was wounded—deeply, profoundly—but he is not broken. At his core, he remains the same boy he was before any of this occurred.

This is precisely why Mike’s expression as he watches Will use his powers is so deeply revealing. It is not the look of someone who suddenly falls in love because the other appears powerful or impressive. It is a look of admiration, yes—but above all, of pride. Mike is profoundly proud of Will in that exact moment. Not only because Will saves his life, but because Mike has watched Will grow since they were five years old. He has witnessed Will through his worst moments as well as his best. As the 8mm-style flashback so clearly illustrates, Mike has been by Will’s side their entire lives.

Mike has seen it all. He has seen Will doubt himself, cry, and likely suffer abuse at the hands of his father. He has seen him bullied at school and heard the town’s cruel whispers. He has watched Will endure torment and hell, carry trauma from season one onward, and slowly lose his light. He has seen Will terrified, shattered by fear, suffering agony before his eyes. He has seen his innocence and confidence fade. He has seen everything.

(Not for nothing if the cast and Duffers brothers insisted the audience to rewatch the season 2 before season 5 by the way)

And in this precise moment, Mike sees that same Will grow, bloom, awaken his powers, and—most importantly—take control. What he also sees is that Will listened to him, and in doing so, proved that Mike was right to believe in him. Mike told Will that he was capable of regaining control over the visions caused by his connection to Vecna. And that is exactly what happens.

And this is not the first time this dynamic appears. This scene directly parallels the moment in season two when Mike tells Will that he can use the “Now Memories” imposed on him by the Mind Flayer to spy on it in return—and that is exactly what Will does immediately after that conversation with Mike. I previously wrote a post analyzing this parallel in more detail here, for those who may be interested.

Will struggled to believe it himself—but he listened to Mike. He chose to trust him, to internalize his words, and to act upon them. Once again, Will made a choice: to believe Mike and to accept that Mike believes in him. He accepted the confidence, the conviction, the potential, and the power that Mike sees within him.

This is no longer a matter of “Will needs Mike.” Will has finally understood that he does not need him—he wants him. This is not necessity; it is choice. It is Will’s choice. Will does not need Mike to exist or to grow; he chooses to listen to him. He chooses to value Mike’s perspective and words. It is not “I need Mike to become myself,” but rather, “I accept what you see in me—and that belief helps me rise even further.”

Will wants Mike to live, to be saved, to remain by his side. He does not need him—he wants to be with him. Just as he never needed Mike to become his friend, but wanted him to be. This is not fate. It is not destiny. It is pure choice—pure consent.

Exactly as they both chose, together, to be part of each other’s lives.

This was never about fate or “simply dumb luck.” They built this bond themselves. Mike asked Will if he wanted to be his friend. Will said yes. And from that moment on, they constructed their relationship through years of shared conversations, daily companionship, Dungeons & Dragons, laughter, drawing and writing together, mutual support, and the shared discovery of passions—games, films, music, art. They introduced each other to new interests, nurtured each other’s curiosity, and grew side by side.

All of it was organic. Natural. Evident. And at every step, it was grounded in choice.

It has always been about consent and agency—never about fate or destiny.

In the same way, Max and Lucas have always represented a matter of choice. Max chose to listen to Lucas. She chose to believe him and to take the risk. It was never about destiny or about what they were meant to do. Never. It has always been about wanting something—about desiring it and choosing to reach for it.

It is also crucial to emphasize that the final image of episode 4—the slow-motion shot that zooms in on Will—is quite literally Mike’s point of view. In that moment, we are looking at Will through Mike’s eyes. The audience becomes Mike’s gaze. And Mike is profoundly, overwhelmingly proud of Will in that instant.

This is also precisely why that shot of Will—the one framed through Mike’s perspective—has gone viral on TikTok and across the internet, and why so many people perceive Will as extraordinarily beautiful in that moment, as if he has undergone a “glow-up.” It is because we are seeing him the way Mike sees him. Mike sees him as beautiful. That is why the shot is in slow motion; why, despite the sweat, the dirt, and the tears, Will appears so striking and ethereal. It is because Mike perceives him that way. Will is, quite simply, perfect in Mike’s eyes.

Mike is looking at him with love—not because he suddenly falls in love in the moment Will saves his life, but because, after two and a half seasons without genuine access to Mike’s point of view, we are finally granted it. For the first time since a long time, we are allowed to see how Mike sees Will. He has been deeply in love with Will for a long time, and in this moment he is so overwhelmed by emotion and pride toward the person he loves that the audience is invited to inhabit his perspective. And what we see, through that gaze, is nothing but beauty and perfection.

It is therefore no coincidence that so many heterosexual viewers—often deeply blinded by heteronormativity and by a lack of media literacy, and who had never seriously considered the possibility that Mike’s feelings for Will might be reciprocal because they had not engaged with the show’s subtext—reacted to this scene with humor and delight, interpreting it as a “turning point.” They joked that Mike was suddenly “turned on,” that he abruptly fell in love with Will because he had powers or because he looked attractive.

What they were responding to, however, was unmistakable: Mike’s awe. His emotional overwhelm. His captivated gaze as he watches Will take control—and, through that gaze, witnesses Will as beautiful. Even if their interpretation is flawed—mistaking a revelation of existing love for the sudden emergence of it—they nonetheless cannot deny the presence of those feelings. Despite their heteronormative framing, the scene makes Mike’s love visible in a way that is impossible to fully dismiss.

In the end, even through misinterpretation, the truth still surfaces.

Ultimately, Stranger Things does not frame Will Byers’ journey as a story of fate, destiny, or inevitable suffering. It frames it as a story of choice.

Vecna’s attempt to break Will is not merely an attack on his queerness or on his love for Mike, but an effort to erase his autonomy by convincing him that he is nothing more than his trauma—that his body, his mind, and his identity were permanently stolen from him in November 1983. Yet Will’s resistance does not come from denying what happened to him. It comes from remembering who he has always been beyond it.

The memories that empower Will are not random flashes of happiness; they are moments rooted in consent, agency, and self-determination. They remind him that his identity was never forged through violence, but through love, joy, creativity, and the freedom to choose. Will is not broken. He was wounded. And there is a profound difference between the two.

In reclaiming control over his visions and activating his powers, Will does more than fight Vecna—he reclaims ownership of himself. He chooses to believe in his own autonomy again. And in choosing to trust Mike’s belief in him, Will does not become dependent; he affirms his strength. Mike does not complete Will. He sees him. He believes in him. And Will, in turn, chooses to accept that belief.

This is why the gaze matters. The slow-motion shot of Will in episode 4 is not about spectacle or power—it is about being seen. Through Mike’s eyes, we witness Will not as a victim, not as a survivor reduced to his pain, but as someone whole, radiant, and deeply loved. That love is not sudden, nor is it born of circumstance. It is the result of years of mutual choice—of two boys who repeatedly chose to let each other in, to grow together, and to remain side by side.

Just as Max chose to listen to Lucas, and just as Will once chose to say yes to Mike on the playground, every defining moment in this narrative is rooted in consent. Not fate. Not destiny. Not obligation. Choice.

If you've payed close attention to Mike Wheeler's character development, you may have come to the conclusion that he is gay, repressed, and has internalized homophobia. This is not just delusion - there are plenty of hints the Duffers leave for observant fans, or just queer fans who can relate to Mike's inner turmoil, to pick up on. However, my goal is not to talk about the specific details that spell out said internalized homophobia, or to convince you of why this is the case. My goal is to explain why the Duffers following through on this is so significant.

1. If Mike is straight, he's just an asshole and the Duffers assassinated his character. In Seasons 1 and 2, we see Mike as a protector and leader who puts his friends first and who would do anything for them. He doesn't value a potential romantic relationship with El or anyone else more than he values his friendships. Starting in Season 3...this just doesn't seem to be the case anymore. Mike is dating El now, and he seems to have lost pretty much all interest in spending time with his friends, even Will. If your best friend since kindergarten was kidnapped and tortured, you thought they were dead, and then they came back possessed, you would probably want to spend even more time with them than before. Mike was very obviously traumatized by Will's kidnapping and the idea that he would never see him again, so why would he suddenly start spending significantly less time around him? Doing this makes Mike seem like an asshole and a bad friend, and it goes against everything that has already been established about his character. So why in the world would he abandon his friendships like this?

One popular conclusion fans have come to is that Mike avoids his other friends and leans so heavily into his relationship with El in a desire to be perceived as normal and heterosexual. This is the theory I ascribe to, and again, this post is not meant to convince you this is true. I can make a different post with details and proof and theories to convince you of this, but I'm writing this post with the assumption that the readers agree with the assessment that Mike is repressing his sexuality. With that being said, Mike repressing his sexuality and feelings and therefore leaning heavily into heteronormative behaviors makes his character development from Season 3 onward a lot more intentional and thoughtful than him simply being an asshole to his friends now for no particular reason.

Mike was born to conservative republican parents and lives in a small town in the American Midwest during the 80s and the AIDS epidemic. Every detail of this setting means that homophobia is extremely prevalent. Growing up in a world where he likely hasn't heard anyone say anything good about queer people, Mike would internalize those prejudices. If that resulted in him simply being homophobic, he would be a more widely unlikeable character, but not necessarily a badly written one. But we know this isn't the case because of how he defends Will when bullies call him homophobic names and slurs. Mike Wheeler in the first two seasons has already been established as someone who does not seem to care about his friends' sexualities, and would go so far as to defend them even though that would invite homophobic mocking from bullies onto himself as well. This being the case, why would Mike say something seemingly homophobic to Will in Season 3?

This is projection at its finest. Mike Wheeler, at this point in the show, is growing up and into his own insecurities surrounding his sexuality. He has observed the world around him and came to the conclusion that being in a romantic relationship with a girl is the "normal" thing to do - normal being straight, and straight being an essential trait in his eyes. He starts spending more time with his girlfriend in a desperate attempt to pretend like he is normal and straight. He spends less time with his friends, including his best friend who, in my opinion, was the catalyst for the realization of Mike's sexuality. Especially because Will has been called gay and various slurs in the past, although Mike didn't care before about also being called these things, an older and more insecure Mike would care enough about this to not want to be with Will as much in fear of being gay by association - or worse, feeling gay. Mike's sense of normalcy and belonging seems to at this point be rooted in his appearance of heterosexuality, and so he is doing everything he can to maintain that appearance, even if it means hurting the people he cares about in the process, even if it means lashing out and projecting his own gay feelings in a desperate scramble to convince not only everyone else, but himself as well, that he is straight.

Mike being gay and repressed with internalized homophobia would provide a complex, relatable, and realistic reason as to why he suddenly seems to abandon and sabotage his friendships. There is no other solid reason provided or hinted at for as to why Mike's character would make such a sudden and drastic shift after having already been established for the previous two seasons. If this is not the case, and Mike Wheeler is straight, that's just bad writing.

The Duffers have also set up Mike and Will's relationship so that the narrative points to the development of a romance between them. This was done undeniably intentionally, and to go back on that extensive writing and set-up now would also be bad writing.

2. Mike and Eleven are not compatible as a couple. Mike and Will are. And all three of them will be better off with a Mileven breakup and Byler endgame. Stranger Things has extensively explored the dynamics between both Mileven and Byler. It it been all but explicitly stated that Mike and Eleven just like the idea of each other. They both crave a sense of normalcy that they're able to find within their relationship. They also to some degree became trauma bonded and codependent, especially El toward Mike. But they don't seem to actually care about each other as individuals. Most of what they do is just make out, and their relationship seems very shallow. It seems especially shallow compared to the relationship between Mike and Will, who understand and accept each other deeply. Their relationship has been established and built up to be the strongest one in the party, perhaps in the entire show, since the very first episode. They trust each other like nobody else, care for and protect each other like nobody else, need each other like nobody else - Mike and Will have a healthy and solid foundation for a relationship, whereas Mike and Eleven simply do not. According to everything in the show so far, Mike's relationship with Will is healthy and deep in all the ways Mike and El's is not.

In addition to this, a major part of El's character development is finding independence and realizing her own identity as an individual, which it seems like she cannot do while remaining with Mike. Whether or not someone ships Byler, I think it is extremely important to acknowledge this part of El's development. She deserves to be independent. She deserves to be her own person. Yes, you can be those things while still being in a romantic relationship, but it has been proven that this will not happen while she is with Mike. It has also been proven that Mike and Eleven do not and likely will not truly love each other for who they are as individuals and outside of being convenient, which is something they both deserve to experience in a relationship. Simply put, Byler would make for the deeper, truer, and more thoughtful love story, and Mileven would hinder all three of these characters' paths to positive development and happiness in both themselves and their relationships.

3. Will Byers and Mike Wheeler being together and happy, and therefore Stranger Things having multiple queer main characters and a gay main couple, could change the world for the queer community. This isn't an exaggeration. Stranger Things already has multiple canonically queer characters (Will, Robin, Vickie). But Robin is not a main character, Vickie certainly isn't, and any media with writers trying to get points for diversity but not anger any conservative viewers can have a couple side characters be queer. The significance of specifically having Mike be canonically queer and in a relationship with Will is much more than this.

Stranger Things is one of the most popular and influential shows of the last decade, with hundreds of millions of viewers ranging on the political spectrum from progressive to conservative. With that large and varied of a viewer base, it would be easy and almost logical to leave Mike's sexuality and relationship with Will ambiguous at its gayest, so as to upset the least amount of viewers. Hell, it would have been easy and logical to not confirm Will's sexuality, either. But this isn't the case. Will, the main character of this extremely popular and influential show, was confirmed in Season 4 to be gay and in love with Mike Wheeler, another main character. Already, this is more than what many pieces of media with popular queerbait ships have done. Already, this is an extremely important step for the queer community, to be able to have not just side characters, but a main character with significant screen time as well, be canonically queer, with a character arc that centers itself around this.

However, if Will's feelings for Mike are not reciprocated, this representation can fall flat. Will has been through so much trauma already: abuse, bullying, abduction, bodily violation, possession, being gay in a setting extremely harsh to queer people, and seeing his best friend who he's in love with date his sister and seem to love her. In Season 4, he has seemingly sacrificed his hope for happiness and given up on his feelings for Mike in order to keep El and Mike together. Will Byers has suffered through so much, and this is not a debatable point. As of the end of Season 4, it seems as though Will may become a sacrificial gay character, simply there to help push the agendas of straight characters and relationships to his own detriment, never gaining anything in return.

But, if Mike reciprocates Will's feelings and they become a couple, this trope will not happen, an extremely thought-out queerbaiting will have been avoided, and both boys can be happier. We already know Mike and Will can be themselves without fear around each other, and that their relationship is objectively the strongest in the party. If Mike and Will get together, two of the main characters, including the main character Will Byers, will be canonically queer, and the main couple of the show will be a gay one with a healthy and strong relationship that was built up over the course of the entire series. It has the potential to genuinely be one of the best written slow-burn romance stories in fiction, and one of the best gay love stories - a gay love story which the general audience would not be able to simply ignore, on account of it being between two main characters, in addition to it seemingly being a major plot point and part of key character arcs for both Mike and Will in Season 5. Byler would positively change how some in the general audience, both homophobes and those indifferent to queer people and rights, think of and treat the queer community. Byler would be the queer awakening for many people, a wake-up call for them to accept themselves, and give them the realization that despite any prejudices held against themselves, they deserve to be happy and true to who they are. These positive outlooks from so many people have the potential to save lives and bring more acceptance for queer people into the world, especially in places like the United States where conservatism and homophobia are on the rise.

Queer love and acceptance has the power to change the world, and I think that's both a beautiful thing and an important opportunity for the Duffers to take with their writing. Otherwise, it's just another example of queerbaiting, consolation prize queer side characters, and the perpetuation of the trope and idea that queer people can't be both true to themselves and happy. But if the Duffers write for the outcasts like they said they always have been, this show and the love story of Mike Wheeler and Will Byers will have immeasurable impact for years to come.

(This beginning bit is a bit long, but it's not necessarily relevant to read, there's a bit of a picture show under the cut if you wanna skip my musings on watching season 1 for the first time versus on a rewatch.)

Listen, I know season 1 came out in 2016 so all of this is old news by now and must've been talked about over and over, but since all this talk about how Byler and Mike being queer "came out of nowhere" or that it's "fanservice", has been on the surface among some people, I wanted to put this together just while I was thinking through it myself.

I think it's been said that at some point, Stranger Things was visioned as an anthology series, that what eventually turned into season 1 was going to be a self-contained story. Obviously, the story would have gone through many changes since then, but the thought of the hypothetical version of a one season story is intriguing.

I went into the series completely blind. I picked it out cause I was looking for something that looked interesting, not because anyone told me anything about it, or I read about it beforehand, nothing. I grew up reading, playing games like Final Fantasy, and watching movies and shows, so I've been immersed in storytelling my whole life. Patterns and tropes become familiar even when one doesn't study the art of writing and have words to describe what they're seeing in any technical detail.

That being said, the first time I watched season 1 of Stranger Things, I kept waiting for the plot twist that Mike doesn't like El as was suggested. That it was an expectation set to be subverted. It was too predictable, too basic, and I felt there were constant hints that that was the case, Mike's demeanor first and foremost. The thought that he actually liked Will and no one else knew definitely crossed my mind. But I fell into the trap of thinking "oh, I guess I was wrong", when Mike kissed El. I was confused. Specifically I wondered how I "got Mike so wrong", but then I accepted it as fact. And watched the show like that. Years went between seasons, and I forgot all the times I thought something seemed weird, like the Snow Ball.

This show is incredible to rewatch after going through it like that.

Hearing about some original hypothetical version where this story was one season, I remembered waiting for that season 1 plot twist regarding Mike and El. Was I really wrong, or are we just still waiting for it? And then I really thought about season 1.

I see a lot of posts like "this is why I think Mike is queer" or "this is my favourite Byler proof", but when I try to think of mine, I always come back to season 1. This post is just one of the things in it.

Past this point, there's not a lot of text besides the show's dialogue. I don't think it needs an explanation.

"Our working theory right now is that..."

hope everyone brought snacks, this is gonna be a long one!

for starters, the will-is-stopping-the-demogorgons reveal is shot from mike's pov. this, along with the fact that they're both facing each other the entire time, is a visual cue telling us mike is the focus of this scene as well as will. we see the demogorgon frozen midair in front of us, then our eyes pan down and we notice that it's will who's stopping it from killing us.

the audience is introduced to this new, powerful will through mike's eyes and this is not accidental.

the fact that will is standing in front of a fire from this point of view is noteworthy as well because fire in cinematography is used to represent intense emotions, danger, trauma and transformation. will standing in front of it while also facing away from it symbolizes his coming into himself, using his trauma as a source of power and owning what he feels are his "darkest" parts. this is already a huge moment in will's progression as a character but things get even more interesting when the camera cuts to mike and:

we see that behind him is a truck with flashing headlights, also facing will. obviously there are lights flashing everywhere in this scene but watching it again i couldn't help but notice that mike is the only character in it who is so close to a specific source of these lights that it's glaring and impossible to look at him without noticing it. on my first watch i thought it kind of looked like fireworks, which is absolutely intentional. fireworks (or similar light flashes) are often used to depict romantic realizations or breakthroughs. see this reaction gif you may already be familiar with:

thanks to the lighting we can tell exactly how this lego man is feeling even if we have no idea what he's looking at.

as you can see joyce also has some flashing going on behind and above her but it's ambient, not coming from any particular source and pretty easy to miss while it's almost hard to see mike's face through all of his flashing. lucas doesn't have any flashing at all and robin has a small amount coming from a hole in the wall to indicate that while she's not present where all of this commotion is happening her predicament is directly connected to it.

this is certainly an intentional choice, not only to place visual emphasis on mike's particular reaction to will's transformation but to give us an external look at what is going on inside his mind. when we see mike from will's perspective with the flashing lights coming from behind him we also see how he is the only character both illuminated by the fire behind will AND "flashing" something back at him.

headlights are more focused than firelight and are used to frame a character who's having some kind of confrontation but there being two characters, one at each end, shows an "axis" of light connecting them, symbolizing a confrontation or recognition between these characters. since this axis originates from mike's end, this is meant to show us his emotional revelation about will.

even without mike on the screen we can see his headlights bouncing back off of will's face from his direction. interpreted literally, this shows mike seeing will in a “new light”.

we are being shown this reciprocity on purpose. if you were going to shoot a scene that visually conveys will using his feelings for mike as a source of power instead of something to run away from and mike having his own emotional breakthrough right back at will, this is exactly what it would look like. the fact that mike is facing both will and the fire behind him also shows that he is now seeing will in his totality; everything he has had to overcome to get to this point and how powerful he is as a result. in response, will is seeing what he feels for mike beginning to reflect back on him.

this scene closely follows one that involved mike and will huddled under a sink pressing their hands together trying (and failing) to keep the pipe from bursting, symbolizing how their feelings have become as impossible to repress as the water streaming from the pipe. i'll make a more in-depth post about this scene at a later time, this one is long enough as is.

When she meets Mike, for the first time, she is treated with kindness, care, and compassion, things she never had before. To her, Mike becomes someone she associates with safety, protection, and belonging. He was the first person who made her feel human. Because of this, she begins to associate how Mike takes care of her with love. It becomes something associated with care and protection.

Despite everything she went through, she still shows compassion for those who have shown her kindness. She was ready to sacrifice herself to save Mike, Lucas, and Dustin from the Demogorgon. At that moment, she was ready to die for those who showed her what love truly means. This shows us that despite everything she went through, she is still an amazing person, ready to protect those she cares about.

We see in Season 2 that her relationship with Hopper had a lot of issues. They both were shaped by something traumatic in their past. Eleven was lost. She didn't know who she was. She was haunted by the things that happened to her. She felt traped, not being able to understand what she was. Not being allowed to be free. Be happy.

In Season 2, her arc evolves around self-discovery. She starts questioning who she is and what she truly wants. She remembers the story Hopper read to her about a mother. And that stayed with her, she realized how important that figure is to someone's life. They make her realize how much she wanted that kind of connection. So, when she finds out she has a mother, she goes look for her, hoping to find more about herself and a sense of belonging. When she loses the connection with Terry in the void, it breaks her. Because she finally found someone she had a past with beeing torn away from her now, and so it did her entire life.

When in her visions Eleven sees Kali she wants to go to her, someone who may also share a past with her, her pain. I find the Lost Sister episode so emotional because Eleven finally finds someone who understands her trauma, and both of them did. In the end, Eleven decides to leave because she sees that the people she cares about are in danger, and her and Kali get separated again. This scene always breaks me because they both did feel good with each other, connected to a childhood that was full of pain.

Eleven is haunted by her past, of Brenner. The man who turned her into something she doesnt understand. That is why she is so obsessed with Mike. That's how she copes. I dont believe Eleven loves Mike romantically, but instead, she loves what he makes her feel. Safe, connected, a feeling that she belongs. But because of how, in the first season, Mike encouraged a romantic relationship between them (also shaped by his own confusions and fears). Eleven began to associate romance with this kind of love.

In season 3, the relationship between her and Max is really important for Eleven’s arc. Max shows her what independecy looks like. She shows her that she is not defined by Mike, not Hopper, but herself. She can discover alone who she is, what she wants, and what she likes. This is a really big step on her journey of starting to find her voice and herself. Of understanding more about the world.

In Season 4, we see that Eleven feels lost again. She lost her powers, she doesn't fit in, she feels incomplete, and she is really insecure. One of the reasons evolves around Mike not saying “I love you to her”, and she starts to realize that something is not okay between them. At this point she understands relationships better, and she realizes that Mikes love for her doenst feel right. She is scared that if he doesn't love her romantically that it means that he doesn't love her at all. That's her fear. (We know this isn't true. Mike loves Eleven, just not in a romantic way, and that is the reason he doesn't say it to her.)

She's haunted by her memories and by the trauma she carries. She feels like she doenst belong anywhere. Not in a society, not even with the people that she loves. Everything reminds her of her past she can't escape. She is still terrified of it. She avoids looking for Brenner because she is terrified of confirming that the man who caused so much pain is still out there. The thoughts of facing him, the reason for her suffering, weights on her a lot. And when she finally faces him, she doesn't only face him. She faces herself. She seeks the truth. She wants to understand if she is indeed the monster.

When Brenner dies, some weight she caries is lifted. She feels free from him, this shadow that has been haunting and following her entire life. She is finally sure that he is dead after all those years of fear to look for him because of the doubt that we know she gets that he would still be alive, from the lost sister episode.

And despise everything she doesn't shut down the people she loves. She keeps fighting for them through her pain. But we do see a really big change in her after Season 4. She becomes more of her own person, no longer treating Mike as her whole entire world. She is starting to realize she is not defined by others expectations or a need for validation.

TYSMM