Steve Harrington always went to a party on New Year's Eve.
When he was younger, it had been his dad's company parties. They were fancy and boring, and Steve was usually the only kid there. Most of his dad's employees who had families stayed home to celebrate with them, which meant the party was pretty much stuck-up old businessmen who felt better chugging champagne with coworkers than getting smashed at a bar.
By the sixth grade, Steve was sick of it. He'd asked to stay home instead and, even though his father lectured him about being ungrateful and disrespectful, they'd finally left him behind. It was the one year Steve had spent the night by himself. He ordered pizza, binged on junk food, and watched the television countdown alone in his living room. It sounded depressing now, but at the time, he'd been having the time of his life.
It was only after that year that Steve started to appreciate the social currency of having an empty house. In the seventh grade, he'd invited his friends over—though it had just been a few guys. They'd played loud music, nearly set the backyard on fire with a few stray firecrackers, and ranked the hottest girls in their grade; then the next year, Steve invited them, too. That was the first time he had a real rager on his hands.
His freshman year, he'd done his best to up the ante. He was on the swim team by then, and already friends with the upperclassmen on the basketball team. Those guys had brought their friends, their girlfriends, their drugs, their booze, until the entire street seemed to be filled with cars. The family across the street had called the cops, and that was the first and only time Steve got busted.
His parents were furious with him, not for throwing a party, but for letting it get out of hand and publicly embarrassing them. After that, Steve started to spending more time out of the house, just to get away from it all. Ninth and tenth grade had passed in a blur of different houses and crowded living rooms. He'd decided he much preferred attending big parties than hosting them—and Steve Harrington always got an invite to the big parties.
Junior year brought with it a rude awakening. He'd been partnered with Chrissy in science, started dating Nancy, and had the shit kicked out of him by Jonathan Byers. Another scandal, another public embarrassment, another grating lecture from his father—but it was hard to care after fighting off a literal monster. Still, he'd cleaned up his act and, that year, he'd gone to a party at the Wheelers' house; it wasn't his usual scene. Mrs. Wheeler invited some other families on the street to celebrate New Year's Eve, and everyone brought food and desserts instead of liquor and weed. To tell the truth, Steve had actually been pretty nervous, but Nancy had gotten him through it. It had been tame, but it had been nice.
Steve didn't expect tonight to be tame, but he'd also learned to stop expecting things altogether.
He pulled up to the Walcott house at three o'clock on the dot, where he parked on the curb, checked his hair in the rearview mirror, straightened the collar of his polo shirt, then undid one of the buttons. Satisfied, he hopped out of the car and headed up to the front door. He rang the doorbell and leaned against the doorframe to wait, shifting a few times to ensure he looked casual and at ease.
When the door swung open, Steve put on a charming smile—then hurriedly stood up straight and took a step back. "Hey there, Mr. Walcott!"
"Hi, Steve." Mr. Walcott smiled and, if he noticed the complete change in Steve's demeanor, he was kind enough not to say anything. "Come on in. Chrissy should be out soon. I think she's on the phone."
"Oh, cool. Uh—thanks."
Steve wiped his feet on the mat and closed the door behind him, then trailed after Mr. Walcott into the kitchen, where he'd clearly been in the middle of making himself lunch. He offered Steve something to drink, which he politely declined.
"So," Mr. Walcott said as he cut his sandwich in half, "you've been to a Karen Wheeler party before. What exactly am I getting myself into here?"
"Oh! It's uh…it's nice." Steve scratched at the back of his neck, searching for an appropriate response. "Lots of people, good food. You really haven't been before?"
"Eh, I've been to a few birthday parties, but I've managed to avoid most of the big holidays. I'm still not good at this…suburban, mingling thing."
Steve snorted. "Yeah, there's a lot of that—whose decorations looks nice, whose lawn is nasty, who went off at the PTA meeting."
"Oh good," Mr. Walcott said flatly. He took a bite of his sandwich, looking depressed.
"Well, hey," Steve offered, "last year, Mrs. Wheeler bought this really fancy champagne to impress everybody, so you've got that to look forward to."
"Yeah, that's something."
"Honestly, I just kinda stood along the walls the whole time. Maybe you can just lay low and wait it out."
"Nope!" Chrissy breezed into the room with a laugh. She patted Steve on the back as she passed and grinned at her dad. "Just talked to Nancy. Apparently, Mrs. Wheeler's been telling all the other moms that you're coming. Everyone wants to get a closer look at Hawkins' most eligible bachelor."
Mr. Walcott grimaced as she kissed him on the cheek. "On second thought, can I stay here with you and the kids?"
"No," Chrissy said without sympathy. "If you didn't want to go, you shouldn't have said yes in the first place."
"I know! But Karen asked Joyce and then Joyce asked Jim and then Jim asked me, and now it seems like half the town's going."
"Just stick with Hopper. And keep an eye on Claudia, will you? You know how she gets when she drinks."
Mr. Walcott nodded with a knowing look, making Steve raise his eyebrows. "How does she get?"
"Er…spacey," Mr. Walcott said delicately.
Steve's eyebrows climbed a little higher. Dustin's mom was a sweet lady, but she was already pretty spacey by most people's standards. Steve just nodded and kept that thought to himself.
"Okay, we've gotta run," said Chrissy, grabbing her bag off the kitchen table. "Do you need anything from the store?"
"No, just worry about your snacks," her dad assured her. "And get twice as much as you think you need. If Dustin's here with all his friends—"
"Trust me," Steve laughed. "We know what bottomless pits they are."
"They?" Chrissy smirked and poked Steve in the ribs. "You're just as guilty."
"No, I'm not! Dustin—that kid's practically a vacuum cleaner. Don't you dare put me on his level. Rude…"
Steve pouted childishly to make her grin and roll her eyes.
"Alright, Dad, love you! Talk to you later—and try to have fun!"
"Nice to see you, Mr. Walcott," said Steve. "Good luck!"
"Yeah, thanks. Happy New Years, you two. Be safe!"
Steve had a feeling the last bit was for him, along with the suspicious look from Christine's dad, but she was pulling him out of the house before he could reply. At that point, he was happy to head to the car.
"Thanks again for driving," Chrissy said as she climbed into the passenger seat.
"Of course. Although," Steve added suggestively. "You know, most people tip their drivers…"
"Steve…"
"Meh, it was worth a shot. Big Buy, dinner, cabin?"
"Big Buy, dinner, cabin," she agreed, and even though she was shaking her head at him, she was still grinning.
It was no surprise that Big Buy was mobbed with last-minute shoppers. Chrissy grumbled as Steve drove in circles to find a parking spot, and ended up splitting her shopping list in two so they could divide and conquer. Even then, it was a hassle to find everything. It had been a while since Steve hosted a party, but he didn't remember it being so expensive. Chrissy grudgingly let him chip in, but only because he'd been fighting that battle for several days straight.
By the time they'd checked out and loaded all the chips and dip and sodas and cheese and crackers and cups and napkins and cookies and whatever else into the BMW, Steve was starving—which brought him to Battle #2.
She'd agreed to let him buy her dinner, but the food was still up for debate. Steve wanted to take Chrissy out to dinner—to a restaurant or at the very least a diner—but even after two weeks, Chrissy was sticking to her this-is-not-a-date-and-we-are-not-dating policy. Eventually, Steve accepted defeat and took her to a drive-thru for burgers. He complained that the fast food was going to stink up his Beemer, but Chrissy's only response had been to crack her window open and continue picking at her fries.
"So, I just wanted to check," she said once they were en route to their next destination. "You're still…okay with tonight, right?"
"Chris, we've been over this," Steve sighed. "I'll be fine! There's gonna be a ton of people there. It's not like you're locking us in a room together—and even then! I'm telling you, me and Nancy are fine."
"It's not Nancy I'm worried about."
Her pointed look made Steve purse his lips. He stared at the road ahead, thinking for a few moments before he answered.
"I'm not gonna start anything with Jonathan. I learned that lesson already, remember?"
"That's not funny," Chrissy scolded, making him crack a grin.
"Good, because I'm serious." He reached over and stole a fry from the bag while she was busy glaring at him. "Look, I've thought about it a lot and…yeah, it's weird, and yeah, it ticks me off, but…it's done, you know? I knew they liked each other and now they're together. I don't have room to talk, anyway. I've done loads of terrible shit you guys have forgiven me for. Least I can do is return the favor."
Steve could feel Chrissy looking at him, but she took pity on him and dropped the subject; Steve was grateful. He didn't like thinking about his past self and all the shitty ways he'd wronged people. He'd slept around, ditched girls' calls, hooked up with people he shouldn't have. He'd invited Chrissy to Jenny's party last year, knowing she'd think it was a date, just so he could have a shot with Nancy. Sure, it wasn't cheating, but that didn't make it any less scummy. How could he be mad at Jonathan for sleeping with Nancy when Steve had done worse himself?
Chrissy reached over the center console, offering him another fry by repeatedly tapping it against his mouth. Steve's lips twitched into a smile before he bit it out of her hand.
"F'anks."
She hummed in response, then began fiddling with the stereo. His stereo kicked in with one of his driving mixtapes and Chrissy settled back in her seat, fingers tapping along to the beat of Fleetwood Mac. Steve bit the inside of his cheek to keep his pride from showing; he'd made this tape last week specifically for driving with Chrissy—not that she needed to know that.
It wasn't long after that Chrissy started giving him directions. Part of him regretted agreeing to drive his BMW through the woods, but he turned as carefully as he could and slowed down to a crawl to take it easy on the bumps. Finally, he was able to pull into a clearing where he and Chrissy got out of the car, grabbed their dinner and drinks, and set off through the trees.
Steve had no idea where he was, but Chrissy knew what she was doing. She guided him up the non-existent path and around Hopper's booby traps until they finally reached his cabin in the woods. Steve struggled to hold her drink for her so she could knock, and a few seconds later, the door opened.
The way Eleven smiled, Steve would never have guessed she'd seen Chrissy just a few days ago. Her whole face lit up as if they hadn't seen each other in years and she jumped out onto the porch to hug her.
"Hi, Chrissy!"
"Hey," Chrissy laughed, holding her arms up so she didn't smack Eleven with a paper bag. "Mind if we come in? We brought dinner."
Eleven nodded fervently and tugged her into the house. Steve was still struggling with the cups, dangerously close to dropping his food, when Eleven appeared at his side. She quickly grabbed what he couldn't carry, giving him the same bright smile she'd had for Chrissy.
"Hi, Steve."
"Uh, hey," he replied with an uncertain grin. "Hi, Eleven. El? Uh…which do you like better?"
Eleven merely shrugged and walked into the house. It didn't answer his question, but he figured it was a silent welcome to follow her inside.
He dropped the bags on the kitchen table, surveying the room with interest as Chrissy unloaded the bags and Eleven locked the door again. It was a small place, all wood and quilts and miss-matched furniture shoved into the same room, a tiny Christmas tree squeezed into the corner. Steve couldn't imagine anything more different from his house. He still remembered Chrissy's first reaction, the way she'd gaped at his living room and asked, "Do you live in a magazine?" Sometimes, it felt like he did. The Harringtons might've had the picture-perfect house, but Steve almost preferred the cabin. It felt more like a home.
Eleven grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him to the table, forcing him into a chair next to Chrissy before running around the table to sit across from him. It took Steve's brain a second to catch up, but once Chrissy handed him his burger, he shook himself from his daze.
"Hey, so, uh—are you excited for tonight?" he asked Eleven.
She nodded eagerly and took a bite of her burger. As she chewed, her eyebrows tugged together like she was thinking, and she waited until she'd swallowed to ask, "Why tonight?"
"Um…because of the party…?" he said uncertainly. "It's New Year's Eve."
"No, why tonight?" She repeated herself for emphasis and tapped the table, which somehow made more sense to him.
Steve's mouth fell into a small "oh" as he nodded. "Why tonight? Right, uh—I don't know. Because a bunch of old guys said so."
He yelped as Chrissy flicked him on the arm, rolling her eyes again.
"Because of science," she answered Eleven. Chrissy reached across the table, grabbing the salt and pepper shakers and holding them up for her to see. "See, if this is Earth and this is the sun, we're constantly moving around it in space. It takes us a year to go all the way around, so whenever we get back to the start, we celebrate."
Chrissy dragged the pepper around the salt as part of her demonstration. Eleven nodded thoughtfully, then grabbed the pepper herself.
"But why here?" She pushed the shaker to the point where Chrissy had started, then picked it up and dropped it somewhere else on the circle. "Why not here? Or here?"
"Oh. Well, uh…" Chrissy paused to think, frowning down at the table. She glanced over at Steve, then sagged slightly in her chair. "Because a bunch of old guys said so, I guess."
Steve grinned smugly. "You don't say?"
"Ha, ha, okay, shut up."
Steve refrained from commenting, but he caught Eleven's eye across the table and winked. She burst into giggles, something Steve was very proud of—even if Chrissy didn't appreciate them ganging up on her.
Time seemed to fly by after that. They took their time eating, then realized they were running late. Chrissy hurried to help Eleven get dressed, but then they were later than late. By the time Steve had carefully navigated his car through the forest without scraping any of the paint off, they were like…late late.
Dustin was waiting for them in Chrissy's driveway when they pulled up.
"It's about time, assholes! Our parents left like an hour ago! Let's move it!"
"I know!" Chrissy groaned as she sprinted to the door. "I know! Sorry!"
"Henderson—chill," Steve ordered, climbing out of the car. "And grab some bags, would you?"
"Fine!" Dustin was still shouting, but he stopped to grin at Eleven. "Hi, El! It's super cool that you could come. We're gonna have a blast."
Eleven smiled as they grabbed a few of the grocery bags, looked quickly up and down the street, then hurried after him into the house.
Everything after that was chaos. Steve and Dustin collided about ten times bringing things in and out of the kitchen, shouting over each other only for Chrissy to shout at them both to shut up. She was darting around the kitchen in a blur, laying things out on trays, pouring stuff into bowls, shoving them at Steve and Dustin to take into the living room. Eleven was smart enough to stay out of the way entirely. She plopped down in front of the stereo so she could be in charge of the music, and as she carefully inspected each tape, Steve could see just how much she looked like Chrissy.
Lucas showed up next, Max riding behind him on his bike. Steve immediately started to panic, but Max was quick to assure him that Lucas had picked her up a few blocks from her house. Neither of them had run into Billy, and he'd been keeping his distance since she threatened him. It was half a relief, but Steve still hated to think that she was living under the same roof as that creep. Hopefully, in a few months, Billy would graduate and fuck off back to California.
Then came the final wave—Jonathan, Nancy, Mike, and Will all in the same car. Mike made a beeline straight for Eleven, and Will went right after him while Nancy and Jonathan juggled their coats. Despite all the assurances he'd given Chrissy, Steve hung back, not sure how to engage. Nancy made the decision for him, walking over to him with a smile.
"Hey! Happy New Year."
"Happy New Year," Steve echoed lamely. "Uh…how are you guys?"
"Good. It's just been crazy. Mom needed help with like a hundred and one things. If Mrs. Byers hadn't stepped in, I don't think we would've made it out alive." She sent Jonathan a fond smile, then turned back to Steve. "How about you? Good day?"
"Yeah! Yeah, crazy, like you said. We had to pick up Eleven and Chris needed all this stuff from the store—"
"Is she in the kitchen?" Nancy asked.
"Yeah, she's—"
Nancy didn't let him finish. She patted Jonathan on the arm and scampered into the next room, leaving the two boys painfully alone. Steve expected to be nervous or annoyed…but he wasn't. It was hard when Jonathan looked so damn mortified. He was shifting his weight between his feet, eyes darting around the room as he looked for something—either something to say or a reason to leave.
"Hey," said Steve, breaking his concentration. "How's Will been?"
"Oh, he's uh…he's good." Jonathan looked surprised, but nodded as he tried to recover. "Yeah, no more uh…episodes or visions or anything. I mean, he still has nightmares, but…"
"Shit, I don't blame him. I have nightmares about this crap, and he's been through more than any of us."
"Yeah, I guess you're right." He glanced at his brother before turning back to Steve, meeting his eye uncertainly. "Thanks."
"Sure thing, man."
Steve wasn't entirely sure what he was being thanked for—asking about Will or not being mad about Nancy or trying to make conversation even though they'd never really been friends—but it felt like the right thing to say. He patted Jonathan on the shoulder with an awkward smile. Jonathan stared at him for a moment, then choked out an unexpected laugh. He tried to smother it, looking mortified again, but then Steve was laughing too.
After that, it was just a party, like any other he'd been to. Sure, there was less alcohol—he'd grabbed some ritzy liqueur from his house so the teens could spike their drinks—but everyone was just as loud and disorderly. Eleven was fascinated by the party horns, blowing on one over and over again to watch the paper shoot out and roll back up. Mike joined in, aiming his to poke her in the face and make her laugh. Will and Dustin were enthusiastically planning their next Dungeons and Dragons campaign, which Steve only knew because Lucas kept trying to explain the basics of the game to him and Max. Nancy had succeeded in dragging Chrissy out from the kitchen to join the party, the two of them sitting on the couch and attempting to have a conversation over all the noise. Jonathan had taken out his camera and was floating around the edges of the room, taking pictures of each group as he went.
It was just like any other party Steve had been to, but with one huge difference. Steve actually liked these people. He looked around the room and genuinely liked everyone he saw. If he'd been to more parties like this and fewer parties like Tina's, maybe he would've cleaned up his act a lot sooner.
"Steve!" Lucas snapped his fingers in his face, grabbing his attention. "Are you even listening to me?!"
"Sorry! Sorry." Steve blinked hard, trying to recall the conversation. "I don't know, man. It sounds like too much math."
"It's basic addition," Max sneered at him. "It's not like he's asking you to do calculus."
"Why would I want to do math if I don't have to?"
"Because it's part of the fun!" Lucas insisted. "Look, you have to do math in basketball, right? To know how many points you need to score?"
"Okay, but that's different."
"No, it's not!"
"Uh, yeah, it is!"
"It's literally not!"
The argument dragged on, and before Steve knew it, it was only a few minutes to midnight. Chrissy bailed him out of the nerd talk to help with drinks while the kids began gravitating to the television, watching the footage from New York City where the ball was about to drop. Or—technically it had already dropped in New York, so the station was just rolling the clip again. Steve didn't want to think about that for too long. His head already hurt from the noise.
"You okay?" Chrissy asked, catching his eye as she laid out ten plastic glasses. "You seem a little out of it."
"Nah, I'm fine." Steve drummed his hands against his face, then grabbed the bottle of sparkling cider they'd bought in lieu of champagne. "Just tired is all."
Chrissy gasped playfully. "King Steve? Tired at a party before midnight? What is this world coming to?"
"Watch it, Walcott."
He narrowed his eyes at her and cracked the bottle open. Chrissy averted her gaze as she tried to hide a smile, busying herself with liqueur for her drink. Steve drew himself up in determination. With all the seasoned practice of a party boy, he quickly poured each glass of cider, barely righting the bottle between each drink. He slid down the counter until he was right behind Chrissy.
"Let me just get that for you," he said in a sing-song voice, reaching around her to pour the last of the bottle into her cup. "And there you go."
He didn't miss the way she stilled, trapped in the tight space between him and the counter. When she didn't say anything, Steve started to step back, only for Chrissy to take him by surprise. She placed her glass down and spun around to lean back against the edge.
"Thanks," she said softly, and even though she was smirking, her voice still sounded bashful.
Steve took a half step forward, much more awake than he'd been a minute ago.
"Aw, you guys got sparkling cider? That's such a cute idea!"
Steve and Chrissy quickly stepped apart as Nancy joined them in the kitchen. Not that it mattered, judging by her knowing smile. Chrissy cleared her throat, but was saved by Dustin's shouting in the living room.
"CHRISTINE GET IN HERE! YOU'RE GONNA MISS IT!"
"Ah, that's my cue." Chrissy backed towards the door, eyes lingering on Steve. "Do you need help with…?"
"Nah, I got it," Steve assured her. "Go ahead."
"CHRISTINE!"
"Dustin, calm down," Chrissy called in exasperation. "The house is not that big. I can hear you."
She hurried back into the living room, leaving Steve and Nancy in the kitchen. Nancy sidled up to the opposite side of the counter and raised an eyebrow at him. Steve shifted uncomfortably under her gaze.
"What?"
"Nothing," Nancy laughed softly. She poured a miniscule amount of alcohol into her cup, swirling it around as she looked up at him. "It's just…nice. To see you being yourself again."
"Yeah?" Steve asked. "It's not…weird?"
"No. I mean—it is, a little bit. I keep expecting to feel jealous or sad, but instead…"
"It's weird how not weird it is?" he finished for her.
Nancy laughed again. "Yeah. Exactly."
"I get that. It's kinda the same with Jonathan. I thought things would be tense, but it's just like…fine."
"Good." Nancy raised her glass with a grin. "To fine."
"Fine," Steve agreed, grabbing a glass to clink against hers.
"YOU HAVE LESS THAN A HUNDRED SECONDS!"
Dustin's voice made them both jump, and Steve took a hurried sip of his drink.
"Shit, uh—okay—can you—"
"I'll take the adult ones," Nancy offered, "you take the kids'."
It was a struggle for both of them, but again, Steve's party experience came in handy. He managed to grip all six glasses of cider between his fingers, walking low to keep the liquid steady as he hurried into the living room.
"Alright, coming through, losers! Come and get it! Chop chop!"
In an instant, he was surrounded by children. Lucas and Dustin were both trying to push their way to the front, only to be strong-armed by Max as she grabbed the glass with the most cider in it. The other cups disappeared from his hands as the kids dispersed, until he handed the last one to Eleven, lingering at the back of the group.
"Just wait until we say 'Happy New Year,' okay?" Steve instructed. "Then we all drink."
Eleven nodded dutifully, looking at the glass with concentration. Steve grinned, ruffling her curls before Dustin seized the back of his sweater.
"Steve! Come on! You're gonna miss it!"
"Jeez! Alright, Henderson, keep your pants on."
"Gross."
Everyone crowded around the TV as the countdown popped up on the screen. Dustin was bouncing up and down on his knees, so Steve clapped his hands on his shoulders to keep him in place until the final countdown. He stole a glance over at Chrissy, sizing up the drink in her hand, trying to decide how much time he'd have…
"THREE, TWO, ONE—HAPPY NEW YEAR!"
Steve released Dustin at once and, amidst the cheering and party horns, weaved his way through the group. He reached Chrissy just as she finished her drink, grabbed her by the waist, and spun her into a kiss. She stiffened against him, but recovered much faster than she had last time. Her lips moved smoothly against his, her hand sliding from his neck down to his chest, until she finally pushed him away.
"Steve," she scolded, even though her face was flushed pink.
"It's New Year's," he said at once, his excuse at the ready. "You have to kiss at midnight. Everyone knows that."
"I told you to wait—"
"New Year's kisses don't count."
"Uh, yes, they do!"
"They don't!" he insisted earnestly. "Seriously, I'll kiss Jonathan too if it makes you feel better. Hey, Jonatha—"
Just as he'd hoped, Chrissy yanked him back against her, pulling him into another kiss just to shut him up. Steve smiled against her, nipping at her bottom lip and reveling in the soft gasp it earned him. She reached up to tug his hair in retaliation and—
BANG!
Steve and Chrissy both screamed as they jumped apart. Confetti was raining down from the ceiling and, somehow, he was only mildly surprised to find Dustin standing with a party popper in his hand, glaring at the both of them.
"Hi," he said grumpily. "You realize there are children here, right?"
Chrissy blushed, struggling to form a response, but Steve merely raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? Maybe you should tell the children that."
He nodded to the opposite side of the crowd. Mike and Eleven were kissing too, the juvenile kind where you both just puckered your lips and held them against each other. That didn't seem to matter to Dustin, who hurled his empty party popper across the living room.
"Will you stop?! Why is everyone kissing?! Stop being gross!"
"Ow!" Mike shouted back. "Shut up, Dustin! Just because you don't have someone to kiss—"
"Okay, everyone knock it off," Chrissy ordered. She wrapped her arms around Dustin and yanked him back, pulling him into a hug and planting a kiss on top of his head. "Happy New Year, asshole."
A/N: Surprise—and Happy New Year! I wanted to go out with a bang by sharing the first of these one shots. There will be seven (7) in total, one for each month between Stranger Things Seasons 2 and 3. Because I like being poetic, I'll be posting each one shot during the month it occurs—just so you can get the full effect. It won't always be the same day, depending on the contents of the chapter, but you'll have a surprise to look forward to.
HOWEVER, I want to make it very clear: the one shot series will not proceed directly into Season 3. While the third installment is plotted, I've yet to begin writing or editing, and I doubt I'll be ready to publish by July. I hope the one shots can tide you over until I have a better idea of when the next story in the series will be published.
Somewhere In Between will update once a month and is rated M for language, underaged drinking, and sexually suggestive content. For the most part, the content is light-hearted and consistent with the overall tone of Stranger Things. As always, I will include a trigger warning at the beginning of the chapter if it includes anything particularly sensitive. If there's anything specific you feel should be tagged, please let me know.
For visual aids, playlists, and additional content, you can visit the story's Tumblr page at insideoutstory.
Again, I can't thank you all enough for reading, and I look forward to hearing from you all after this tooth-rotting fluff.
-Brittney