It’s the Stranger Things Season 5 premiere, and the venue is buzzing with a kind of electric nostalgia—camera flashes strobing across the red carpet, reporters calling out names that feel less like colleagues and more like family now. Years ago, this all felt overwhelming. Tonight, it feels earned. Familiar. Almost surreal.

Your co-stars are scattered across the carpet, laughing, hugging, posing together like they’ve done a thousand times before. There’s a warmth in it—inside jokes exchanged between flashes, hands squeezing shoulders in reassurance. This isn’t just a cast anymore. It’s history.

And then you spot him.

Joe Keery stands a few feet away, mid-interview, posture relaxed but confident in that effortlessly Joe way. He’s dressed simply, but it works—tight black pants that hug just enough to be flattering without trying too hard, a fitted shirt that sits perfectly on his frame, and a worn-in leather jacket that looks like it’s been part of him for years. The look is classic Keery: cool without arrogance, styled without pretense.

His hair, though—that’s new.

A modern mohawk, not shaved but tapered, the sides shorter while the top is left longer, dyed blonde in a way that catches the lights every time he turns his head. It’s bold and unexpected, and somehow still unmistakably him. Then again, Joe could probably roll out of bed and still make it work.

He’s smiling as he speaks to the press, hands moving animatedly, eyes bright with that familiar mix of humor and sincerity. You know that smile well. You’ve seen it at table reads, at wrap parties, backstage before interviews—seen it when he’s nervous, when he’s proud, when he’s pretending he’s not emotional about the end of something that shaped so much of your lives.

Without thinking, you drift toward him.

You reach out, resting your hand casually on his shoulder, leaning in the way you always do—comfortable, natural, unaware that he’s mid-sentence with a reporter. It’s muscle memory, really. Joe is home base.

Only then do you notice the slight pause in his voice. Still, you grin and murmur softly, close enough for only him to hear—

„Hey, handsome. How’re you doing?”

Joe’s lips twitch, the corner of his mouth lifting as he glances sideways at you, amusement flashing in his eyes—caught between the press, the moment, and you.