#transference

📸 credit: @alienstardustt, go like and reblog the og post!

Friendship Parallels, and Mike's Deleted Queer Coding

In this scripted scene from season one, there are heavy implications that Mike has already played with Nancy's makeup! He knows just the right amount of blush to add. He "carefully applies lip balm," knowing the trick to pucker one's lips (or "smack" one's lips) to evenly coat them. Those who have never worn makeup before do not instinctively know this—as illustrated by El needing to be taught how to apply lipstick for the first time. He demonstrates. These nuances are missing in the screen translation. Moreover, the final montage intersperses shots of Dustin and Lucas, two friends playing dress-up in a chest full of costumes. Oh, the friendship parallels don't end here, folks.

Who plays with makeup together? Besties at a slumber party, older sisters using their younger siblings as guinea pigs and test subjects, or younger kids who are questioning their sexuality and gender expression. This is a makeover montage, just like the one we got between Max and El in Season 3 at the mall—we have a direct parallel between El and Mike and a pair of girlfriends exploring their individuality, or who they want to be.

Mirrors, Conformity, and the Script's Makeover

They put on makeup in front of a vanity mirror, which is not what ends up being in the scene's final shots! The key word is "vanity"—the regard for one's self or ego. A mirror is a symbol often used for being conscious of one's self-image. After the montage, in the same sequence during the episode, the vanity mirror is swapped for a bigger mirror in the hall, one that fits both characters into a two-shot. They appear to stand side-by-side from the camera's angle, directly comparing the two. There is a lot of headspace between them and the top of the frame, with a zoom-in, two types of filmic codes to indicate inner conflict and contemplation. The intentionality is even more obvious when you realize that in the blocking, Mike follows her there, landing on his mark (you can even see Finn look for it).

This change from script-to-screen makes audiences less conscious about Mike's desire for self-expression. Rather, we are more aware of how he masks it.

All of this mirror symbolism also recalls Cocteau's Orpheus (1950), a queer-coded, star-crossed lovers story that deals with its own Upside Down—the Underworld—based on the Greek myth. In this comparison, Will is Eurydice and El is his chauffeur to guide Mike to him. Cocteau sees mirrors as insidious, a reminder of death, which ended up being true for El until her story was rewritten so she could live on. Here, this idea also relates to the death of the ego; the fading of a personal identity.

As they look at the mirror, Mike, in a baby-blue shirt, awkwardly stands there, fidgeting and squirming, surrounded by pink flowery wallpaper—a gaudy, reflexive construction of institutional gender roles trapped in a frame (a frame of mind). "Pretty…good," El repeats his compliment, reflecting his ideal and sense of self—but her tone isn't happy as the camera creeps in. Mike and El are literally, metaphorically, and emotionally mirroring each other. Perhaps Mike is awkward because she's wearing his self-expression he painted onto her. Or perhaps, it's supposed to be clear that this false ideal he has isn't perfect. It recalls the nuclear family, the loveless relationship of his mother and father, whom they look an awful lot like here (especially with the blonder hairdos Karen sports in seasons to come).

Elaborating on this idea, we later see Eleven when she's alone, staring at her own reflection in a rippling pond. She takes off the facade with a downturned expression, indicating she's either no longer happy with it or doesn't think it suits her. Then screams creating turbulence. This idea doesn't belong to her; it belongs to Mike.

Gender Swap, and Mike's Transference of Will

Then factor in that El and Will are constantly mistaken for each other by eyewitnesses and Hopper. Mike transfers his feelings of missing Will onto El. His hot-and-cold emotions are reflected onto her whenever he feels hope or despair in his quest to find Will after he goes missing. Later on, in Season 4, even Will himself uses El, and her pronouns, to confess his love for Mike, blurring the boundaries between who is actually who.

In this scene, he transforms El into a girl after she is confused for a boy because of her shaved head, which once represented masculinity, and worn Mike's clothes. Boy into girl. Will into El. I talk more at length about this idea in other posts, here and here.

El, who looks similar to Will but is a girl, is Mike's wish fulfillment. Possibly, he wished Will was a girl, and on one stormy night, they swapped places. Even more so in the script, this makeup mirror montage symbolizes this idea of transference, his unconscious feelings for Will, and a desire to explore his gender and sexuality. Yet, the magical spell of this moment is broken when Mike and El are placed in front of others and their own reflection, while Will is waiting just on the other side of that mirror (symbolically, of course).

“But she saved him.” Yeah… and that’s exactly why it’s complicated — and why their relationship might not be as healthy as it seems.

Let’s talk about the psychological weight behind this kind of dynamic.

When someone literally saves your life — especially during a traumatic, high-stakes moment — it creates a powerful emotional imprint. The person you associate with relief, safety, and survival can easily become idealized in your mind. But here’s the thing: that’s not the same as love.

The savior complex / emotional debt syndrome

When one person saves another — especially in an extreme (traumatic or life-threatening) moment — it can create a deep emotional debt, where the saved person feels they owe something profound to their savior. This can evolve into a distorted emotional attachment, which is often perceived as love.

Emotional debt ≠ romantic connection

Mike may feel like he owes El everything because she saved him. That sense of emotional debt can evolve into what looks like devotion, loyalty, even “love” — but at its core, it’s about guilt and obligation, not emotional compatibility or genuine desire.

When someone stays in a relationship because they feel they “should,” not because they want to, it creates an imbalance. It’s not real intimacy — it’s emotional submission masked as love.

Gratitude/savior love syndrome

Though not a clinical term, in psychological or romantic literature, people sometimes talk about “savior love,” where the attraction doesn’t stem from real romantic desire, but from a mix of gratitude, admiration, emotional dependence, and relief. This type of feeling can be very intense — but also fleeting — because it’s rooted in a dramatic event rather than a truly built relationship.

The “Savior Complex” and distorted attachment

This is a textbook example of what psychology often refers to as emotional debt attachment or “savior love.” When a person is rescued in a moment of trauma, they might unconsciously attach themselves to their savior, mistaking relief and admiration for romantic love.

It can feel very intense — even destiny-like — but it often fades or becomes damaging once the adrenaline of survival fades and there’s no emotional foundation strong enough to carry the relationship.

Transference

This is an unconscious mechanism where someone projects intense emotions — often linked to important figures from their past (like parents) — onto another person. In this case, the girl who saves becomes an idealized figure, almost a symbolic “savior,” and the love felt isn’t always based on who she truly is, but on what she represents emotionally: safety, life, salvation.

Transference and idealization

Mike might be projecting deep emotional needs onto El — needs for protection, unconditional presence, and safety — especially if his space to explore those needs safely disappeared one day before meeting El. In psychology, this is called transference: when we assign symbolic meaning to someone based on what they represent to us emotionally, not who they really are.

In this case, El isn’t just a person. She’s the girl who saved his life. She’s “the one who pulled him out.” She's a "superhero". And when someone becomes a symbol, not a person, the relationship loses balance. She becomes untouchable, unquestionable — and that is not mutual love. That’s idolization wrapped in trauma.

Post-traumatic emotional confusion

When someone goes through a traumatic experience, the brain seeks symbols of safety to hold onto. The person who was present in the moment of greatest fear — and helped overcome it — can become unconsciously associated with feelings of love, simply because they were the source of relief.

Post-traumatic emotional confusion

Trauma warps emotional perception. When we’re vulnerable, the brain clings to anything that feels like safety. It makes sense that Mike might associate El with peace and survival — but that association doesn’t always translate into a sustainable, reciprocal relationship. It can create a bond rooted in fear, not in freedom.

So yes, she saved him. And that matters. But it’s also part of the problem.

Because "You saved me, so I have to love you" is not romantic — it’s tragic. It’s a trap. It’s the kind of belief that keeps people in relationships that look loyal on the outside but are emotionally repressive on the inside.

Mike deserves to choose love freely — not stay in a relationship because he feels indebted to someone who once saved him. And El, too, deserves someone who loves her for her, not for what she did for him.

Gratitude is not love. Debt is not devotion. And saving someone doesn’t mean they owe you their heart.

In summary: This is most likely a post-traumatic attachment, combined with emotional transference and a sense of emotional debt, all being misinterpreted as love. It’s not necessarily fake or illegitimate — but it’s often an idealized kind of love, born from survival rather than a deep, mutual emotional connection.

If you’re looking for simpler terms to describe it: “Rescue-based emotional attachment” or “post-traumatic gratitude love” can work — even if they’re not official clinical expressions, they’re still meaningful and accurate.

And yes, it can become a toxic relationship, or at the very least unhealthy, if one of them stays out of guilt, debt, or gratitude instead of sincere love or mutual desire.

Here’s why:

Emotional imbalance If he stays out of obligation (because she saved him), and she believes he truly loves her, then there’s a fundamental emotional lie at the core. There’s no balance: one gives out of love, the other out of duty. And even if the intention is good (not wanting to hurt her, wanting to repay what she did), it builds a relationship based on a false premise.

The fear of hurting or “betraying” her He may feel like he owes her his life, and therefore has no right to leave, even if he’s not happy or in love. This chronic guilt can lead to a form of emotional submission, which will make both of them miserable over time.

The myth of “I owe them everything” This is a common mental trap: believing that because someone saved you, you must stay loyal to them for life — even at the cost of your own freedom or inner truth. It becomes a form of perpetual emotional debt that prevents you from listening to what you really want.

Possible consequences:

He may repress his true feelings, or even fall into depression.

She may feel that something is wrong, even if he never says it.

The relationship can become suffocating, built on illusion, and eventually lead to resentment, frustration, or even repressed anger.

The factual and logical consequences I describe here include all the relationships based on this dynamic. But the fact is that every consequence cited here and highlighted is evident and present in season 4 (especially in their argument scenes) speak volumes.

It’s not necessarily toxic at the beginning, but it becomes toxic if it continues without honesty.

Being grateful is one thing. Sacrificing your truth in the name of that gratitude is another.

Conclusion :

Yes, El did save Mike’s life — and that’s incredibly important. But love born out of a life-saving moment doesn’t automatically make a relationship healthy. In fact, staying with someone because you feel emotionally indebted to them, rather than truly in love, can actually be a sign of an unhealthy or even toxic dynamic.

There’s a psychological phenomenon where intense gratitude, admiration, or even trauma-bonding gets confused with love. When someone saves your life — literally or emotionally — they can become symbolically larger than life to you. You feel like you owe them everything. But that doesn’t necessarily mean you're romantically compatible, or even emotionally fulfilled in the long run. It just means they became a figure of safety during a moment of terror or pain.

If Mike is with El partly because he feels like he has to be, because she saved him, then that’s not a free, mutual love. That’s emotional debt. That kind of imbalance can lead to deep internal conflict — guilt, suppression of real feelings, fear of hurting the other person — and that’s where toxicity begins to seep in, even if no one means harm.