There were two things in Hawkins, Indiana that were certain.
Number One: Life was never going to be the same ever again. A hole had been ripped into the sky and no one was certain what would come spiraling out from it. The same group of kids that had grown up together would be haunted by the memories of the upside down from the last few years.
The future had seemed so certain before. Mike, Lucas, Dustin, and Will would stay friends forever. Nancy Wheeler would become the journalist she'd been dreaming of. The spring formal would go on without a hitch, and the newspaper would get delivered to your doorstep every morning at 8 AM on the dot. For the first time, however, no one knew what was coming next.
and Number Two: Eddie Munson was dead.
Sitting on the hood of his car, Steve Harrington waited outside the hospital for the kids to return. Max Mayfield was still in her coma and hadn't woken up in months. Despite this, all of the kids had visited weekly, sharing stories about their day, what was going on at school, etc. Eleven had tried peering into her mind to find her, but she was lost. Nothing but an empty void and the echo of her own voice when she called Max's name.
Lucas had fared the worst. While the other kids tried to keep the conversation upbeat and joyful, Lucas could only hold her hand and watch her face waiting, praying, for any sign of life. As if the moment he looked away, she'd blink up at him and ask where he'd been.
While Steve adjusted his watch idly, Robin Buckley rolled down the window and leaned out. "They've been in there a while. We're gonna be late for work soon."
Somehow, by the grace of god, they were allowed their old jobs back. After missing a few days - no call no show - because of, you know, the apocalypse, their boss had given them their old shifts. Probably because they had a hard enough time keeping people to work at a low end video rental store for less than minimum wage. Steve and Robin liked to pretend it was because they were invaluable employees (they weren't).
"I know. Just give them some time, they didn't get to see her last week." Steve clicked the watch into place, done with his fiddling. Robin only nodded in response and rested her head on her arms. As if on cue, the familiar sound of Mike and the boys' chattering sounded throughout the parking lot.
"Hey," Steve called, "what took so long?"
"Sorry!" Mike rushed a little faster to the car. "We were showing her our character sheets. Will made her an honorary NPC." He held up a drawing of Max in knight's armor, signed with a W. Steve was glad that they had found a way to distract themselves. This world was screwed up enough, if the kids wanted a world to escape to with elves, orcs, and magic, so be it.
Dustin, however, had opted to skip this campaign. To him, D&D without Eddie was as good as sacrilege. There was simply no better dungeon master. Steve could see the hurt in his eyes when they talked about it. Dustin filed into the car with Lucas and Mike, saying his goodbyes. Eleven and Will waved goodbye to them and ran to Jonathan's van, who waited for them with Argyle.
Steve hadn't spoken to Argyle much, but he seemed like a cool enough dude. He and Jonathan were practically joined at the hip, so he was around 24/7. As was the constant weed smell.
When all the seatbelts were fastened, Steve fiddled with the radio and then pulled out of the parking lot. At least this routine was familiar.
It was midnight. The air was humid with the summer heat, the soil still damp from the rain earlier that day. The woods all around Hawkins were dark and full and the canopy of trees almost blocked the light of the moon. A sliver of light pierced the leaves, trailing down, down onto the forest floor. Lying in a nest of brambles, a figure barely caught that light. It rested on a face, pale and slick with sweat. Sticks and leaves clung to their hair, dirt etched into their fingers. The steady rise and fall of their chest was the only indication they were alive, for their skin was nearly white, drained of blood, and dark circles surrounded their eyes.
In the dark of the forest, a branch crunched, and those eyes shot open.
"It's not like I'm exactly Miss America over here." Robin grumbled, struggling to paint her index finger. Steve stocked a nearby shelf, barely paying attention.
"Why would you want to be Miss America?" He scoffed.
Robin looked up, annoyed. "I don't. Are you even listening to me?"
He counted the stock with his thumb, finally glancing over after Robin snapped her fingers at him. "Hmm?"
"I'm talking about girls, Steve." She rolled her eyes and continued painting. "I don't know how to talk to them, I don't even know what I'm doing right now, I mean - ugh!" She made a frustrated claw with her hand, dunked the brush into the polish, and then slid it away. "How do people paint their nails? Why is this so hard?"
"I'm pretty sure painting your nails is not going to get a girl to like you." Steve said. "You're going to chip it off in a week anyway."
Robin groaned. "I mean, what do girls even like?"
"Think about it. What do you like?"
"I don't know!" She threw her hands up, exasperated.
"Okay, okay," Steve sighed and tossed the rest of the tapes back into the box, "I think you're overthinking this. Just be yourself. Girls dig that."
"Aww, just be myself? Thanks, mom."
"Hey, watch it."
Just then, the shop door swung open, making the little bell at the top jingle. They both turned their heads to see Joyce Byers standing at the entrance. She looked between the both of them and grinned with that nervous smile she seems to always have.
"Steve Harrington, I didn't know you worked here."
"Oh, yeah, for a little while." He gestured to his coworker. "You know Robin."
"Of course." Joyce smiled at her and she waved a little in return.
Robin stealthily wiped the remaining polish off her nails and tossed the napkin under the counter. "What can we do for you, Ms. Byers?"
"Oh, I wanted to find a movie for the boys tonight. I think they could use some cheering up after seeing Max. Thank you for driving them today." She looked down and wrung her hands together for a moment. "How are you?... Doing, I mean. We've all… We've all been through a lot."
Steve looked at her in surprise, but then gave her a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I'm okay, Ms. Byers, thank you."
"You know you always have a seat at the table." She offered, then she sighed. "You're close with Dustin Henderson, right?"
"I - I mean, I wouldn't say close…" He mumbled.
"You babysit him, right?"
" I don't - " Steve opened his mouth to retort, but sighed instead. "Yeah, sure."
"How is he doing? He doesn't come over as much, he and the boys used to see each other all the time."
Steve wished he could say that Dustin was okay, but Eddie's death had really taken a toll on him. He wasn't the toothy, excited kid he used to be. He didn't talk about D&D, or Tolkien, or anything that reminded him of the metalhead he used to adore. It broke Steve's heart. Even though Dustin got on his nerves, he was still his partner in crime. Steve didn't get a chance to really know Eddie; their friendship was brief. Despite his eccentricities, he could tell he had a heart of gold. He'd sacrificed himself to save everyone, for god's sake. Most of whom he hadn't even known.
Steve sighed. "He's… going through it. He idolized Eddie, you know."
"Did he? I only really knew about the Munson boy from the papers." She shook her head. "It's really a shame how… villainized he got. It wasn't right."
They sat in heavy silence for a moment, before Joyce looked up again and coughed a little. She smiled nervously and waved her hand. "Didn't mean to bring the doom and gloom in here, I'm sorry."
"That's okay." Steve gave her a reassuring smile. "Can I make a movie suggestion for you?"
"Oh, please!"
Steve directed her to the fiction section and they browsed together. Times like this felt like things were steadily getting back to normal. Even if it was only the calm before the storm.
It felt like a knife was being dragged all across his arms and legs when he woke up. His veins were dark purple against his skin, throbbing with adrenaline. He quickly scrambled up, looking wildly all around him. He couldn't explain it, but he felt… wrong. Different. Like something had invaded his very blood.
As he took in his surroundings, he was certain of two things:
Number One: Something was, in fact, very, very wrong.
Number Two: He's alive.
Eddie Munson was alive.