Steve
Before that night and the worst thing to ever happen to him, Steve was sure he knew how the world worked. Life was predictable. It was actually pretty boring. Life was easy, life was dull. Well, classes weren't easy, but high school didn't really matter. In fact, Steve was fairly confident that nothing in Hawkins mattered. Occasionally he would wonder if life was always going to be this way, or if he would ever find something outside of Hawkins good enough to chase, but he never thought about it long enough to come up with any answers. That was why he had to make his own excitement, and usually a combination of booze, girls, and troublemaking was enough to satisfy him for a night or two. But then he started to notice Nancy, and began to wonder what his life could be with a girl like her – how things could change with a smart girl, a complicated girl he couldn't really figure out. And his life did change with Nancy, but not in the way he thought it would. Life turned out to be unpredictable, after all.
That awful night was also the best thing to ever happen to him. Not only because he didn't run – because he was there for Nancy and Jonathan when they needed his help – but also because he realized that maybe he had been wrong about everything. If boring is not watching a demon monster crawl through a ceiling, he'll take it. If boring is sitting on a couch while Nancy rests quietly his arms, then boring isn't so bad at all. Steve understands that many of the things he used to take for granted – being inside a warm house on a snowy night, the smell of cakes baking in the kitchen, the sound of laughter echoing up from the basement – now seem to be the most important. All of it matters to him now.
Mike
Before Will left and Eleven arrived, Mike thought he knew what pain was. Pain was metal tools at the dentist's office and needles at the doctor's. Pain was wiping out on your bike and eating dirt, or that time he accidentally pressed his hand against the hot stove top while following his mom around the kitchen. He thought he understood what sadness was, too. Sadness was being ignored by all the girls in class and being pushed around by boys behind the school building. Sadness was his mom not having time to listen to him because Holly needed her more than he did. Sadness was Luke Skywalker finding out his father was the bad guy. Pain and sadness hurt, but they always went away eventually. They were easily swept aside by his friends – by the games they played, the movies they watched, the stuff they collected. Pain and sadness were part of life, but a small part. Not the important part.
Mike knows now that he was wrong. After Will returned and Eleven left, Mike realized that pain has nothing to do with needles – it is about not being able to help someone you care about. Pain is watching them be scared, and not being able to save them. Pain is understanding that someone has gone away from you forever. And pain doesn't hurt your skin, it hurts something inside of you instead. Sadness isn't what he thought it was, either. Sadness actually comes from hoping for something that can never come true, and feeling that hope die a little bit every day. And sadness doesn't leave you. It can be buried, or maybe forgotten for a little while, but it is always there under the surface. Just like the Upside Down.
Joyce
Before the morning Will wasn't in his bed, Joyce thought that her life was chaotic. She was barely earning enough to keep a roof over their heads, Lonnie always somehow found a way to make her life difficult at every turn, she could never keep the house clean – hell, she could never even find her keys. She thought that chaos was the endless pile of dishes, the constant noise of two boys in the house, her anxiety about Jonathan's education, worrying about how a sensitive boy like Will was going to survive in the world, and the constant eyes of the town watching, judging, and waiting for her to mess up again.
In the minutes, hours, and days after Will isn't in his bed, Joyce learns what chaos truly is. Chaos is driving to the police station because you can't find your son. It's standing alone in a morgue, and knowing that someone is lying to you. Chaos is not being able to reach your baby, and the black, black terror of knowing he is in danger. Chaos is watching reality shred itself apart before your eyes. Chaos is screaming what you know is the truth to people who don't believe you. It's looking at Jonathan and seeing doubt and fear in his face. Chaos is finding a monster in your home.
Now that Will is in his own bed every morning, the mess, the noise, the expense of having two boys in her dusty old house is a joy – a fragile, shining joy that pierces and soothes her soul every waking moment. Her heart is bursting over with love, happiness, and thankfulness for this second chance. She wants to make it right again more than anything, but in a small corner of her mind lurks chaos – always there, and always waiting.
