In the Wheeler basement, Mike Wheeler, Lucas Sinclair, Will Byers, and Dustin Henderson were sprawled across various pieces of worn furniture. The remnants of a hastily-concluded Dungeons & Dragons session—dice, character sheets, a half-eaten bag of Cheetos—were scattered across the old pool table.

Upstairs, in Mike’s bedroom, Max Mayfield and Eleven Hopper were lounging on the bed, textbooks open but ignored. Max was idly scrolling through her phone. El was watching her with intense focus.

And somewhere else in town, Y/n’s phone buzzed in their pocket.

A new notification appeared on the screen.

[Hawkins Gang 🐉] (5 new messages)

mike ♟️: okay but if the gelatinous cube does absorb the rogue, do we get his magic dagger or is it just… digested

dustin 🧢: digested. obviously. it’s a cube of acid, mike, not a pawn shop

lucas 🏀: can we talk about something that isn’t d&d for five seconds. i have real problems

will 🪄: like what?

lucas 🏀: coach is making us do suicides if we lose to marsh on friday. my legs are already crying

max 🛹: sent a photo

The photo is a blurry, up-close shot of El, who is giving a thumbs-up with a completely serious, unblinking expression. The caption reads: moral support for your legs

el 🧇: i am support!

dustin 🧢: el that’s a threat image and you don’t even know it

mike ♟️: back to the cube. will, you’re DM. ruling?

will 🪄: the dagger is… partially dissolved. it’s a -1 dagger of mild indigestion now.

dustin 🧢: SICK

max 🛹: y/n’s been quiet. you alive over there or did the cube get you too