Inside Eddie Munson's trailer, the cramped space was filled with anxious energy. Dustin sat cross-legged on the floor, flipping through a makeshift map of Hawkins, while Mike leaned over the counter, looking like he was trying to piece together an impossible puzzle. Steve and Robin whispered urgently in the corner, bouncing ideas off each other, and Nancy stood by the window, arms crossed, her brow furrowed in deep thought.

Eddie, sprawled out on the couch, strummed absentmindedly on his guitar, trying to ignore the tension in the room, though it was clear from his eyes he was just as on edge as the others. The air was thick with the smell of burnt toast and the stale beer Eddie had opened but barely touched.

Then there was a knock at the door.

Everyone froze, the noise from the outside world feeling too close, too immediate. Nancy turned, her eyes darting to the door, then back to Steve, who nodded subtly. Without a word, she moved toward it, fingers flexing nervously before she twisted the knob and pulled it open.

You stood in the doorway, the cool wind of the Hawkins night swirling behind you. Nancy's face softened just a bit when she saw you.

"You made it,” she said, her voice clear with relief as she stepped aside to let you in.

The others glanced up, their conversations pausing. Dustin gave you a quick nod, while Steve crossed his arms, looking like he was trying to assess if you were going to be a game-changer or just another body in the mix.

But it was Eddie who drew your attention. He was sprawled out on the couch, guitar in hand, fingers idly plucking at the strings. His long hair hung loose, framing a face that looked both curious and mischievous. He gave you a once-over, his lips curling into a grin.