What bothered Eli wasn't sensing the boundaries. It was how they held him without warning.
What stayed with him was how easily they slipped from mind.
Time dragged on, quiet, too calm. Worse than chaos, somehow. School unfolded without hiccups - he flowed from one moment to the next, guided by invisible rails. A chair taken. Rising when needed. Steps measured down hallways. Corners turned sharp and clean. Nothing extra. Never off balance.
No effort.
This might have felt like a relief.
It left him unsettled, though he had no words for it - only a quiet dread that felt too strange to share.
Laps were what they did during gym. Running filled the period.
Few pushed themselves like Eli did - yet he held back on purpose. There was no rush, really. Breathing smooth, steps steady, nothing forced. With the group he arrived, neither leading nor trailing. The moment Coach stopped the clock, Eli stood there, hardly out of breath.
This wasn't something that ever happened in the past.
There he stayed, fingers pressing into his sides, expecting the familiar ache to rise up through his thighs like it always did. Not this time.
Frowning, he took several more steps on the spot - needed to check how it felt.
Nothing.
Empty space shouted where hurt once lived.
Dustin leaned across his desk during science class. He said, that guy, you seem wide awake now. His voice came out quiet, thoughtful
Eli shrugged. "I guess I'm getting used to it."
"That's not how running works," Lucas muttered.
His eyes landed on Eli, quiet for a moment. Was something wrong? Mike asked it softly
It wasn't a trick question. Somehow, that made things tougher.
He gave a quick nod. A pause followed. "Yes. Maybe," he said
He wasn't lying.
That much doubt showed up in his voice. He didn't seem sure at all.
⸻
That afternoon passed without Hopper showing up.
This marks the second day.
Time kept catching Eli's eye, though he wasn't trying to look. Half past four blinked back at him. Then five. Later, half after that. With each glance, a small tightness rose - only to be hushed, as if some quiet part of him pressed reset before feeling could settle.
That sat poorly with him.
Footsteps tapped across the carpet, Marcy watching each turn he made.
"You expecting someone?" she asked.
Her eyes met his above the rim of her glasses. Hovering again, aren't you, she said without asking
That's not it, Eli claimed - only to see the truth hit him full force.
She softened a little. "You want to talk about it?"
Eli considered it.
It probably wouldn't help to tell Marcy that his body felt foreign now.
"I think I just need air," he said.
She nodded. "Don't go far."
"I won't."
He meant it.
⸻
A hush had settled by then, air turning crisp like leaves underfoot. Not far along, Eli moved step after step, drawn less by where he went but how it felt. Paths stretched ahead, swapping pavement for dirt once the buildings faded. Trees stood taller there, closing in without hurry.
The path led elsewhere instead of into the trees.
It mattered that he avoided it completely.
The hush settled heavily around everything.
Sound arrived a beat behind - inside him, not out. As if each noise needed permission before it could reach his ears.
Down by the edge of a gutter, he came to rest on the sidewalk's lip.
He whispered it low, almost to himself: "What is happening now?".
Nothing answered.
His eyelids fell shut.
Bent into himself, just like Hopper showed in those quiet stance exercises. Notice the floor under each foot. The pull of gravity along the bones. Air moving slow through the nose.
Everything responded immediately.
Too immediately.
A push on it felt strange - immediate resistance met every touch.
"Okay," Eli whispered. "So you're there."
Stillness held the moment. Not a rise, nor a step back.
It just existed.
Something tiny crossed Eli's mind. A quick lean ahead, like a stumble about to happen, moved through him.
A shift in his posture, neat yet minimal. Nothing stretched beyond what was needed. Gone were the broad reactions from earlier days. There was silence where impulse once lived. Stillness replaced haste.
Efficient. Controlled.
He spoke soft. Leave me be.
Nothing changed.
His jaw tightened.
"Stop limiting me," he tried.
There it was again - that tiny shift in pressure, sudden yet smooth. Not sharp enough to hurt, just firm. Like an invisible line drawn tighter than before.
A sharp breath caught in Eli's throat as he pulled away.
"Why?" he asked, louder now. "What happens if I don't?"
Silence.
The moment dragged on forever. What made it so hard to take stood out more than anything else.
Not resistance.
Not refusal.
Indifference.
⸻
By sunrise the following day, Hopper appeared. Not near Eli's home. At the school meant for younger students instead.
Through the glass of the front office, Eli saw the man mid-morning. With his hat held at his side, the sheriff stood there - slumped just slightly, face unreadable.
A weight inside Eli shifted, sudden and sharp.
When Eli left the classroom, his heart had already quickened - then eased without notice.
Fury rose inside him after that.
Hopper held back her words till they stepped into the open air. She said, "What happened wasn't your fault."
Eli blinked. "That's not reassuring."
Footsteps echoed as they moved across the asphalt. The uneven gait weighed heavier on Hopper now. A glance passed between them - no hiding it. Eyes met, then looked away.
"I wanted to check in," Hopper said. "See how you're holding up."
Fine, he said without thinking.
Hopper stopped walking. "That wasn't an answer."
He paused. A breath slipped out slow. "It's just... strange," he said
"Define weird."
"I don't get tired the same way. Or tense. Or clumsy," Eli said. "It's like something's smoothing me out."
Hopper took his time looking the man up and down. Useful, that idea might be
"It doesn't feel like it," Eli said.
Hopper waited.
"I don't feel like I get to decide anymore," Eli finished.
Ah, that stirred something. People responded right away.
Furrowing his brow, Hopper let a hint of worry show. Could it be that someone was bothering you?
Eli shook his head. "No. I mean - I don't know. It's internal."
Hopper folded his arms tight. Worse, he said, not better
Staring at the ground, Eli whispered those two words. He did not need to say more
For a second they just stayed put, cars moving past the edge of the open space.
"I pulled back for a reason," Hopper said finally. "You were carrying too much."
"I didn't ask it to be replaced," Eli said quietly.
Hopper exhaled. "Sometimes when you lean on something long enough, it leans back."
That didn't help.
"If it's helping me," Eli said, "why does it feel like it's holding me back?"
For a moment, Hopper stayed silent.
"Because help without consent isn't help," he said eventually. "It's control."
Heavy silence filled the space after that one word hung there.
"You think I should fight it?" Eli asked.
Hopper shook his head immediately. "No. I think you should understand it first. You don't wrestle something you don't know the rules of."
Eli frowned. "What if it won't explain itself?"
A tight grin crossed Hopper's face. Welcome, he said, to Hawkins
⸻
This time around, Eli ran the test on himself later that day. He took his time, moving slower.
Rest finds strength where effort fails.
By pulling back.
His steps grew longer, drawn out. Shoulders dipped, loose and low. Eyes wandered, losing their edge.
It never stepped in, that setup. Whatever shape it took.
Something shifted inside him when he saw it. A quiet moment turned into a clear message.
Something about it resisted making him perfect.
Something needed him locked down.
That time he went fast, jerking forward without warning, the weight came back without delay.
Selective.
Intentional.
Breathing fast, Eli stayed put on the edge of his mattress. His fingers were tight, knuckles pale. The room felt too still after everything.
"So you're not here to make me better," he whispered. "You're here to keep me from getting worse."
The gauge stayed still despite the force applied.
This time, something clicked for Eli - truth seemed within reach.
If a thought took hold that escape was possible…
Maybe snap another piece... instead
Back then, boundaries felt right.
Strange how it mattered only today.
Why Hawkins.
Why him.
⸻
Midnight air shook the glass panes. Eli stayed wide open eyed once more.
This moment felt different. Not only was his mind racing, yet clarity slipped farther away.
He was frustrated.
Something deep within him moved with purpose. Not cruelty, not chance. Thoughtful. Precise. Like a hand shielding flame from wind. Quiet but sure.
What frightened him most wasn't the danger itself.
Safe only when risk existed.
Something out there knew Eli had gotten near. It did not like that.