if you had told your sixteen year old self your best friend was steve harrington, you never would’ve believed it. but it’s been half a decade since you graduated high school, and it’s your first year teaching at hawkins elementary school. steve’s got a class of his own, right next door to you. you’ve never seen someone so good with kids, but he’s say the same about you. your fourth grade students ask you about him constantly. he’s always bringing you coffee, lunch. the two of you started dating nearly six months ago now, but your students don’t need to know that. it’s eleven thirty in the morning, and you’re grading papers instead of eating the sandwich you made yourself when steve walks in with a takeout bag. “rough day?” he asks, teasing. he’s seen send the same kid to the office twice this morning.