The living room is a chaos of blankets, popcorn bowls, and half-argued movie opinions. Someone’s already paused the tape because Steve and Robin can’t agree on whether the monster design is “iconic” or “cheap,” and Dustin is loudly defending it like his life depends on it.

Your purse sits on the end table by the couch, forgotten in the rush to leave—soft black leather, a little worn at the edges.

Steve spots it first.

“Oh, jackpot,” he says, already reaching for it. “Your sister always has candy. Like—always. Emergency Sour Patch Kids. It’s a public service.”

“Steve,” Nancy warns, not even looking up from the popcorn bowl. “Don’t go through her stuff.”

“I’m not going through her stuff,” Steve argues, already unzipping it. “I’m going around it. Big difference.”

Dustin groans. “She’s gonna kill you.”

Steve waves him off. “Worth it.”

He digs past lip gloss, keys, a folded receipt—then pauses.

“Huh.”

“What?” Robin leans over the back of the couch. “Did you find contraband? Secret weapons? Another wallet full of emergency cash?”

Steve pulls out a Polaroid.

The room shifts.

The picture is warm and grainy, taken in a mirror, the edges slightly bent like it’s been handled more than once. You’re in a black dress—that black dress—the one that clings like it knows exactly what it’s doing. Eddie is behind you, taller, all leather and denim and mess of curls, his hand wrapped possessively around your throat—not tight, not violent, just there. Claiming. His other hand rests low on your stomach, fingers splayed like he belongs there. He’s mid-kiss at your neck, mouth just barely touching skin, and you’re smiling—soft, knowing, completely unbothered by the camera.

The room goes dead silent.

“…Oh,” Robin says faintly.

Steve’s mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. “I—uh—”

Nancy blinks. “Is that—”

“Eddie Munson,” Jonathan finishes slowly.

Billy lets out a low whistle from his spot on the floor. “Damn.”

Max grins. “Did not see that coming.”

Mike looks away instantly. “Why would you take a picture like that?”

Lucas elbows him. “Why wouldn’t you?”

Will stares at the photo a second longer than everyone else, then quietly looks down.

Dustin’s face goes bright red. “STEVE. PUT. THAT. BACK.”

“What?!” Steve squeaks. “I didn’t know! I was looking for candy!”

“You found trauma,” Dustin snaps. “That’s my sister!”

Robin tilts her head, studying the photo with a mix of curiosity and awe. “Okay but like… good for her?”

Nancy clears her throat, cheeks warm. “We probably shouldn’t—”

The front door opens.

Your laughter carries in first, followed by Eddie’s unmistakable voice, loud and animated as he argues about snack choices. “I’m telling you, corn chips are superior—”

You step into the living room and stop.

Every single person is staring at you.

Steve is frozen mid-panic, the Polaroid still in his hand.

Your eyes flick from face to face… then land on the photo.

Silence.

From behind you, Eddie leans in. “Uh… babe?” His eyes track your line of sight. He freezes. “Oh.”

Slowly, a grin curls across his face—lazy, unapologetic, dangerous.

“…That’s my favorite picture,” Eddie says.