1984

It was Valentine's Day, and Chrissy had brought home a stack of cards from school. Alone in her room, sore feet in fuzzy slippers and hair finally loose around her shoulders, she sorted through the pile. Most of the valentines were fun and silly - cartoon characters with puns, and butterflies made of hearts. Chrissy stood these up on her dresser, smiling as she arranged them. When she was done, three valentines were left on her desk.

The first one wasn't signed, but it had her name on it along with a crude assessment of her anatomy and a detailed description of what the writer would like to do to it. When she had first picked up the note from her locker shelf and read it, Chrissy had flushed with equal parts anger and shame and shoved it to the bottom of her backpack, desperately hoping that no one had noticed the card or her reaction to it. Now, in the privacy of her room, Chrissy reread it and turned it over a few times, looking for anything that might tell her who had left it in her locker. But she wasn't Nancy Drew, and there weren't any clues on the ugly little note to give away its author, at least none that Chrissy could find. She reached for the scissors, but paused, thinking. Even if she cut it up, someone could still put the pieces back together and read it. The idea of anyone else seeing these words set her face and chest burning again. She grabbed a pen and scribbled black ink over all the written lines before finally cutting up the card and throwing the pieces in her trash bin. She wished she could burn it. She wished she could forget she ever saw it.

This year there had been a change in the way people treated her at school. Boys had teased her for years about being short, for having big teeth, for the red tint in her hair. Chrissy always felt annoyed by the taunts tossed her way at recess or on the school bus. They had been easy to ignore though, at most making her roll her eyes as she walked away or swatted a too-close hand. But things were different now in high school. For one thing, the boys had all grown—seemingly overnight—significantly bigger and taller. Their jokes were ruder, their voices were louder, their reaches longer, and their grips stronger. In crowded hallways, anonymous hands brushed across her chest and pressed against her rear. Once, while she was wearing her cheerleader outfit, something wet touched the bare skin on the back of her thigh. She'd gasped and spun around to be met with a group of upperclassmen she didn't know laughing with each other and pointing at her. Rushing to the nearest bathroom, she scrubbed the back of her leg with toilet paper, and didn't dare to examine what she had wiped off before flushing it away.

She felt like she was being watched almost all the time. Often, when she'd look up from her desk, she'd catch the movement of a boy swiveling his eyes away from her. Worse, though, were the boys who didn't bother to pretend like they weren't looking, who met her gaze while they gestured with their fingers and tongues. To avoid them, she got in the habit of keeping her head forward, and her eyes down.

Chrissy knew there was nothing special about all this. She saw the same things happening to other girls all the time, and she'd heard of worse (of much worse) happening, too. She knew it was to be expected, but it was still hard for her to take. Home was not comfortable, and she wanted school to be just a little bit easier. She liked most of her classes, and she loved her cheer squad. High school was never going to be perfect, but it was almost good enough. She just wanted somewhere to feel safe.

From what she'd seen there was really only one type of girl that seemed immune to the kind of attention Chrissy wanted to avoid, and those were the girls with boyfriends. Not girls who dated a lot of different guys, but girls who went steady—as her mom would call it—with one guy for a long time. Which brought her attention back to the two remaining cards on her desk. They were, for lack of a better word, love notes. Real, honest-to-goodness valentines.

They were both from boys in her class, so she'd known each of the senders for most of her life. Jason's note was not a surprise. It was an open secret around school that he had a crush on her, ever since a few months ago when he'd apparently gotten into a fight over her at a football game. Defending her honor, so she'd heard. Chrissy hadn't seen the fight happen, or been aware that her honor needed defending, but she'd been told that Jason liked her so much, and that she was so lucky. She believed it, too. Jason had never been rude or mean to her. He was nice, in fact. If he ever passed by while she was at her locker, he smiled and said hi, and gave her compliments that weren't gross. He often sat at desks close to hers when they shared classes, and was quick to pass her an eraser or a ruler or whatever she needed but didn't have at hand. He was also, and very obviously, cute. More than a few of the girls she cheered with had tried to catch his eye, but word was he only had eyes for Chrissy. Which is why she hadn't been surprised by his valentine. What she'd felt instead was something closer to relief. Jason was becoming one of the most popular boys in their class thanks to his good looks and skill on the basketball team, and Chrissy knew that dating a cheerleader would only send him higher up the social ladder. It would make him a guy that everyone looked up to and liked, the kind of guy whose girlfriend other boys didn't mess around with. Chrissy wanted to be that girlfriend, and now she would be.

The other valentine had been a surprise. It was from Thomas Zelinsky, who she hadn't talked to in a while. She used to see him all the time because his mom worked at Chrissy's gymnastics studio. He was there often, enlisted by his mom to help move mats around, clean, and to spot with the more advanced students. Chrissy smiled to herself as she thought of Mrs. Zelinsky, remembering how she would actually pat students on the back when they something well, and say "Good! Good girl," in her accented English. Such a small reward, but back then Chrissy would have done anything to hear those words and to feel the encouragement of her strong hand. She missed that, now.

Thomas was a mostly quiet presence in the studio and at school. He was so quiet that most people didn't know how smart he was, but Chrissy knew. He didn't raise his hand in class, but he always had the right answer when a teacher called on him, and he read brick-sized books just for fun. He was also the only person her age she'd met who spoke a language other than English. The first time she'd heard him and Mrs. Zelinsky speaking together in Polish, she'd stopped what she was doing just to listen, fascinated. If only Thomas were on the football team or something, Chrissy thought wistfully. He was certainly strong enough. Chrissy knew this from watching him hoist equipment around the gymnastics studio and occasionally catching falling girls out of the air while spotting. For a while, Chrissy had a little fantasy she played over and over in her head in which she took a dangerous fall from the uneven bars and landed safely in Thomas's hands. Then she'd wrap her arms around his neck, and they would stare into each other's eyes, and he would kiss her. It was just a silly daydream, and of course nothing remotely like that ever happened. The closest thing that ever came to it was the time she'd badly twisted her elbow on a layout and had to sit out the rest of class. He'd brought her a bag of ice and sat with her for a while. She'd been so frustrated with herself over messing up such a simple move and in so much pain that she didn't even try to talk to him, she was too close to tears. He hadn't said anything either, but he held the ice against her elbow for a while when her hand got numb. The memory of that small kindness was one that Chrissy treasured in secret.

Chrissy hadn't seen Thomas around much recently, as far as she knew he mostly kept to himself, but she thought of him sometimes. And now she knew that he thought of her sometimes, too. Chrissy traced her fingers around the edges of his valentine. Maybe because the card was unexpected, maybe because of that fantasy she used to have, maybe because he had been kind to her once, it had given her a rush of excitement to read it the first time. Even now there was a pleasant ache in her chest as she imagined him writing it for her. She liked Thomas, probably more than she should if she was going to go out with Jason. She tried to imagine what it might be like to be Thomas's girlfriend, but she couldn't, really. He was so different from the boys on the teams she cheered for, different from the boys her friends dated. She didn't know what to expect from him. Worse, she didn't know what to expect to feel when she was with him.

She put Thomas's valentine on top of her dresser, opened Jason's, picked up her phone, and dialed the number he had written at the bottom of the note. As she listened to the ringtone, her eyes turned back to the dresser. Something sharp twisted in her chest. She snatched up the valentine from Thomas and tore it in half before she could stop herself. She'd wanted to keep it, but she shouldn't. She already knew that Jason wouldn't like that, and she was going to be Jason's girlfriend. She'd just have to forget about Thomas and her childish fantasies. Jason was the safer option, and, more than anything, Chrissy wanted to feel safe.

1986

Eddie clutched the edge of the boat as it rocked, swearing as he tried to balance out the weight of Nancy and Robin lunging to one side.

"Steve," they screamed, "Steve!"

No answer from Harrington. Just the black water and the echoes of the girls' frightened voices. Eddie couldn't believe this was happening. Why had he come back out here? Why hadn't he stayed on shore with the kids where it was safe?

Because the Shire is burning, nothing is safe, he told himself. Except that sounded so stupid now that he was in a tiny boat on a haunted lake over the gaping maw of a monster. Panic was taking over his mind, he couldn't think straight. He couldn't even see straight - it looked like Nancy was about to dive over the side of the boat. Eddie went lightheaded as he realized she was going to dive over the side of the boat.

"Wait wait wait," he called, trying to reason with her. It was no good.

"Wait here," she snapped and then, with a splash, she was gone.

Eddie swore and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. She was insane. Everything was insane. The boat rocked again and Eddie looked up to see Robin sitting on its edge. She peered down into the water, and Eddie knew what what she wanted to do. He couldn't take it.

"No no no no no. She said to wait here."

"Yeah, I know," Robin replied, infuriatingly calm.

Eddie said what he wanted to be true because it was the only thing that would allow him to stay in the boat with Robin and not dive into the darkness after Nancy and Steve.

"She's in charge!"

But Robin was braver than him and his excuses. Words wouldn't stop her, so he reached out to grab the collar of her shirt. He was too slow, and his hands grabbed air she fell back into the water. Eddie screamed and swore, but there was no one there to hear him.

His mind raced. He could row back to shore and find the kids, but he couldn't face them if he came back alone, if he left the others. They had come looking for him in the cabin, followed him to Skull Rock. What would he be if he abandoned them now? He'd be a coward. Again. But he couldn't dive into that water, he couldn't do it, but he had to do it. He had to do it, and before he could talk himself out of it, he did. Still screaming, he dove into the black.

He swam in the direction he thought was down. Sometimes he would catch Robin's profile illuminated by a red glow and tried to aim himself in that direction, but mostly he was swimming blind and trying not to worry about how long he would need to hold his breath. Then, the water was pushing him down as if he was rising to the surface, and he saw a glowing tear in what should be the bottom of the lake. He propelled himself towards the opening, and then he was through. He was falling, gasping for breath, and then—unexpectedly—he hit the ground. He coughed out a mouthful of water and noisily sucked air back into his lungs as he rolled onto his side. Robin lay sprawled not far from him, also coughing loudly. Eddie dragged himself in her direction and called her name. She sat up, startled, and Eddie raised a hand. It was meant to be a reassuring gesture, but it turned into more of a stupid wave. He watched the realization that he had followed her break over Robin's face. She smiled at him. She was glad he was there, and the knowledge of that fact caused something warm to ignite in Eddie's chest.

"We made it," she spluttered, and held out a hand to him. Eddie stared at it for a moment, confused, then struggled to his feet before grabbing her hand and pulling Robin up with him. Her palm was still in his when they heard someone scream. "Steve," she gasped, and her grip tightened in his as she started running towards the noise, pulling him behind her. As the two of them ran, the screaming got worse. Someone else was screaming, too, multiple someones. The screams didn't sound human. A shape swooped past his shoulder. They weren't human. Somehow Nancy and Steve were there, the not-human thing swooped again, Robin dropped his hand, and everything turned to chaos. Before he had time to think or decide, he was fighting, swinging and striking in every direction. There were monsters—actual monsters—falling from the sky, but Eddie kept fighting. He had seen worse.

As soon at it began, it was over. With nothing left to fight, the weight of what was happening—of where he was—rolled over him and he vented his rising hysteria. No one paid attention to his shouting and swearing, which was just as well. There were bigger things to worry about, and a long way to go.

With no way of keeping track of time, Eddie had no idea how long they had been walking, how long it had been since the last earthquake, or even how long they had been in the Upside Down. Eddie just knew that he needed to talk. There was too much swirling around inside of him, building up behind his release valve of a mouth. Usually he could divert that energy through his guitar or into his D&D binder, but neither of those things would help him here, even if he had them. Thoughts—loud and insistent—were pressing on him, things he wanted to say out loud. Before it's too late. And while he could probably follow Robin around talking into her ear, he felt that he had to talk to Harrington. Because why the hell not, at this point. What with all the insane things he'd had to wrap his head around recently, the idea that he needed to talk to Steve Harrington wasn't so weird, really. Sure, he'd always been convinced that he didn't have anything in common with guys like him, the ones who spent all their time conforming to what society had decided everyone should be. Eddie had spent years telling himself—telling the world—that he didn't care what people thought about him. While that wasn't really a lie, it wasn't completely true, either. Hadn't he decided what he wanted his clothes to look like, how to wear his hair? In that way he wasn't so different from Steve, after all.

And hadn't Eddie worried that if he let a girl know he noticed her, she would tell him she wasn't interested in him at all? That was one more thing they had in common, because he'd seen the way Steve watched Nancy, and saw how he was waiting for her to look back at him. It was the way Eddie had watched Chrissy for so long, just waiting for her to look back, hoping that she remembered him. Now that he knew that she did remember him, she did, all that waiting and hoping felt like a waste. If he'd somehow spoken up sooner, maybe nothing would have changed, but maybe he could have had more time with her, and wasn't that all anyone could ask for - more time? Now, instead of time he had regret for being so cautious. What good was caution now? What had it ever got him before? So Eddie caught up with Harrington and talked and talked, spending his words with abandon because there was no point in saving them, and he said to Steve what he wished someone had said to him.

"I would get her back."