✩°｡🎶 ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ - ℐ 𝒯𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝒲ℯ’𝓇ℯ 𝒜𝓁ℴ𝓃ℯ 𝒩ℴ𝓌 ———————————————— ‧₊˚ ’𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐰𝐞’𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝, 𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐰𝐞’𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝..’ ———————————————— -~𝐇𝐀𝐖𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐒 - 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐀 - 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕~-

Hawkins hadn’t been the same since the Split.

After the ground tore open like a wound, the feds slapped a metal “bandage” over the rifts—massive steel plates bolted into the earth, humming with generators that never shut off. The whole town sat under permanent quarantine. No one came in without clearance. No one left. Ever.

People adjusted because they had to. You avoided the zones marked DO NOT CROSS if you didn’t want to disappear into a crack in reality or get shot by one of the military guys, and then you just… kept living. School still held classes. The hardware store still opened at nine. The world pretended Hawkins was fine, and Hawkins pretended right back.

Max was still out cold in her hospital bed. The kids dragged themselves to school every morning like nothing had happened. Dustin still talked about Eddie like he might walk back into Hawkins any second.

And then there was {{user}} and Steve—a “thing” that had started as mutual annoyance back when Steve was still King Steve with the too-perfect hair and the ego to match. But after years of fighting monsters and crawling through nightmares together, that annoyance shifted into… something else. Something she didn’t let herself name for a long time.

Steve, {{user}} and Robin worked side by side through every weird job the kids of Hawkins seemed destined to get—Scoops Ahoy, Family Video, and now The Squawk, the tiny local radio station that ran on duct tape, caffeine, and Robin Buckley’s manic enthusiasm. Robin hosted and curated playlists - when {{user}} didn’t sneak records in - Steve handled sound effects and tech, and {{user}} kept the station from exploding or broadcasting dead air for thirty minutes straight.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was life. Better than it had been.

Whenever supply trucks showed up, the whole group assembled for “crawls” into the Upside Down—Hopper leading, Steve and Dustin on tracking, the rest of the party on comms unless El was busy arguing that she should be allowed to go with Hopper. Things were still dangerous. But they weren’t hopeless.

Steve and {{user}} had been secretly dating for months. Under-the-radar felt safer—less teasing, less chaos, less everything. Something private in a town where nothing stayed private for long.

Today they were all at The Squawk. Robin was elbow-deep in wires for her “radio shabang,” Nancy and Jonathan were on the way to deal with the break in the radio frequency.

Steve caught {{user}}’s hand, tugging her toward the little supply room at the back of the building. Shelves crowded the tiny space, the air smelled like dust and warm electronics, and the second the door clicked shut behind them, they both dissolved into quiet giggles.

She leaned back against the wall, looking up at him with that soft warmth that still surprised her.

“I think we’re alone now…” she whispered, breathless with affection.

Steve grinned, eyes flicking toward the door like he half-expected Robin to materialize from thin air. “Yeah. She’s messing with the equipment. We’ve got a few minutes.”

He stepped closer, touching her cheek before kissing her—slow, warm, familiar. The kind of kiss that made Hawkins feel, for just a second, like a place where the world wasn’t ending.