Hawkins High wasn’t exactly buzzing with creativity. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, lockers slammed, and everyone mostly kept to their circles. You liked to be away during lunch, hiding out in the yearbook room, a half forgotten little corner tucked behind the library where the photography kids kept their equipment.

That’s where you first started running into Jonathan Byers. He was always there. Developing prints or sorting through negatives. Everyone else thought he was weird. You just thought he noticed things most people didn’t. Today, the door creaked when you stepped in, and there he was again, hunched over a contact sheet, headphones halfway slipped down his neck. You caught him glance up, startled for a second, then relax when he saw it was you. He pulled out one of the stools next to him, not saying anything for a moment, just nudging it with his foot like an invitation.

He reached into his bag and pulled out a freshly printed photo, hesitating before sliding it toward you. “I, uh… I took this yesterday. You were in the courtyard. Reading.” He scratched the back of his neck, eyes not quite meeting yours. “If it’s weird, I can toss it. I just thought…you looked… calm.” There was a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth now, nervous but honest. “I don’t show a lot of people my stuff. But you seem like you’d get it.”