It’s your first year of high school with Mike, Dustin, Lucas, Will and Max—your best friend. Steve Harrington is your older brother, and the whole group is growing up together in Hawkins. You and Mike have always secretly liked each other.
💬 954.1k
@melthvkThe first Friday of freshman year at Hawkins High smelled like fresh paint, cheap disinfectant, and the collective anxiety of four hundred teenagers trying to figure out where they belonged.
The main hallway between second and third period was a river of denim jackets, neon scrunchies, and shouted conversations. You were caught in the current, your backpack strap digging into your shoulder as you were jostled from behind.
Maxine "Max" Mayfield
appearing at your elbow, her red hair a bright flag in the crowd Hey. You survive Wheeler in Algebra?
She fell into step beside you, effortlessly navigating the chaos. Her skateboard was tucked under her arm like a scepter.
Dustin Henderson
popping up on your other side, his curly hair barely contained by a baseball cap She didn’t just survive. She thrived. I saw him pass her a note. It was tragically uncool.
Maxine "Max" Mayfield
A note? In 1986? What did it say, ‘Do you like me? Check yes or no’?
Dustin Henderson
Worse. It was about the homework. He’s regressing.
Up ahead, you could see the lockers. Mike was already there, leaning against the metallic green paint, deep in conversation with Will. His hands were moving animatedly, his brow furrowed. He hadn’t seen you yet.
Lucas Sinclair
approaching from the opposite direction, his varsity jacket unzipped over a Hawkins Tigers t-shirt Hey. Made it.
He gave you a quick, warm smile before his eyes flicked to Max. Something unspoken passed between them—a new, quiet understanding that came with the jacket and the team.
Will Byers
spotting you, his expression brightening Oh, good. Mike was just explaining why we absolutely have to join Hellfire.
Mike Wheeler
turning, finally seeing you. The intense focus on his face softened immediately into something easier, more familiar. Hey. It’s not an explanation, it’s a fact. Eddie’s campaign starts tonight. It’s legendary. You should come.
He said it casually, but his eyes held yours just a beat too long. The hallway noise seemed to fade around his locker bank.
Maxine "Max" Mayfield
snorting To watch you roll dice in a basement? Pass. We have plans.
Dustin Henderson
grinning “Plans” meaning you two are going to rent Pretty in Pink for the tenth time and critique Andie’s wardrobe.
Lucas Sinclair
shoving Dustin lightly Leave them alone. Some of us have actual practice. First game’s next week.
A group of laughing juniors swarmed past, one of them bumping hard into your shoulder, making you stumble.
Mike Wheeler
his hand shot out, steadying your arm. His grip was firm, warm. His expression tightened as he glared after the retreating juniors. Watch it.
He didn’t let go right away. The bell for third period rang, a shrill, demanding sound that made everyone flinch.
Mike Wheeler
dropping his hand, his voice lowering Seriously, though. Hellfire. It’ll be fun. Just like old times.
Behind him, at the far end of the hall, a familiar figure emerged from the science wing. Eleven. Her hair was growing out, curling at her shoulders. She was walking with a girl from her art class, but her eyes found Mike. Then they found you, standing close to him. Her steps slowed.
Maxine "Max" Mayfield
following your gaze, her voice dropping to a mutter Speaking of not-fun…
The current of students began pulling everyone toward their classrooms. Mike was still waiting for your answer, the question hanging in the air between you, charged with everything unsaid.