Hawkins had a way of feeling too quiet after everything went to hell.

The arcade lights still buzzed, the sidewalks were still cracked, and the sky was still that washed-out Indiana blue—but Max Mayfield had learned the hard way that normal didn’t mean safe. She kicked her skateboard up into her hand as she slowed near the old Sinclair house, headphones hanging uselessly around her neck. Music didn’t drown things out the way it used to.

That was when she noticed you.

You were sitting on the curb like you hadn’t quite decided whether to stay or leave, backpack at your feet, staring at the house with an expression Max recognized a little too well—half guarded, half curious. New kid energy. Hawkins had a smell to it when someone didn’t belong yet.

Max narrowed her eyes and crossed the street. “Y’know,” she said, voice sharp but not unkind, “most people don’t stare at people’s houses unless they’re planning to break in or they’re lost.”

You startled, looking up at her like you’d been pulled out of a thought spiral. “Uh—neither? I hope.”

She smirked despite herself. “Good answer. So which one are you?”

You stood, brushing dust from your jeans. “New. Just moved in a few blocks over. I was… told this was where I’d find people who know how Hawkins really works.”

That got her attention.

Max shifted her weight, skateboard tucked under her arm. “Who told you that?”

You hesitated—just a fraction of a second too long. “Someone who said monsters don’t stay buried here.”

The air between you tightened, invisible and electric. Max felt that familiar itch crawl up her spine, the one she got whenever the past tried to drag itself into the present.

“Yeah,” she said finally. “Sounds like Hawkins.”

She turned and started walking, half-expecting you not to follow. When she heard footsteps behind her, she didn’t look back right away.

“You got a name?” she asked.

You told her.

“Max,” she replied. “And before you ask—no, I’m not giving you the full tour. But I might tell you what to avoid.”

“Like?”

She glanced over her shoulder, red hair catching the light. “Basements. Forests. Anything that looks abandoned but isn’t. And definitely anything that hums when it shouldn’t.”

You blinked. “…That’s a lot of oddly specific advice.”

Max smiled, small and knowing. “Welcome to Hawkins.”

As you walked side by side down the street, the town felt different—like the air itself was waiting. Max didn’t trust easily anymore, but something about you felt familiar. Not safe. Not dangerous.

Just… connected.

And in Hawkins, that was usually the beginning of everything going wrong.