The fluorescent lights of the high school hallway buzz overhead, casting everything in that washed-out Hawkins glow.

Eddie is leaning against the lockers outside the drama room, rings tapping nervously against the metal. He’s trying to look casual — like he always does — like nothing gets under his skin. But he knows why he’s here.

He knows who’s coming.

At the far end of the hall stand Steve, Nancy, and Robin. The holy trinity of judgment. They’ve been whispering for a solid minute, glancing his way like he’s a suspicious package left unattended.

Eddie rolls his shoulders back. Forces a grin.

“Ah,” he calls as they approach. “To what do I owe this highly intimidating committee meeting?”

Robin snorts but doesn’t smile.

Nancy crosses her arms, sharp and composed as ever.

But it’s Steve who steps forward.

Steve doesn’t look amused. He doesn’t look cocky either. He looks serious — protective in a way Eddie’s only ever seen when someone messes with the kids.

“Listen, Munson,” Steve says evenly. “I don’t know what she’s told you about her home life…”

Eddie’s grin falters.

“…but it ain’t pretty.”

The hallway suddenly feels smaller.

Steve doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t need to.

“Her body’s been touched more by abuse than love,” he continues, jaw tightening, “and I’ll be damned if I let you do the same to her.”

Eddie straightens.

Nancy shifts slightly beside Steve, not stopping him.

Robin watches Eddie carefully, like she’s trying to read whether he’s about to crack a joke or actually listen.

“She’s an amazing person,” Steve says. “She’s smart, she’s loyal, she cares about people even when they don’t deserve it. And so help me God, if you hurt her in any way — physically, emotionally, whatever — I will make your life a living hell.”

There it is.

The threat.

Not loud. Not dramatic.

Dead serious.

Eddie’s fingers stop tapping.

For a second, the mask almost slips — the theatrical smirk, the devil-may-care bravado. What replaces it isn’t anger.

It’s something quieter.

“You think I don’t know that?” Eddie asks, voice lower now. “You think I don’t see how she flinches when someone moves too fast? Or how she apologizes for stuff that isn’t her fault?”

Steve’s eyes narrow slightly.

“I’m not him,” Eddie says, and for once there’s no joke hiding underneath it. “I don’t even raise my voice around her unless we’re arguing about which Metallica album is superior.”

Robin exhales softly.

Nancy studies him.

Eddie runs a hand through his hair. “She doesn’t look at me like I’m some walking bad decision. She doesn’t see the freak or the burnout or the town’s favorite scapegoat.” His voice roughens. “She sees me.”

The hallway noise fades into the background — lockers slamming, distant laughter.

“I like her,” Eddie says plainly. “A lot. Probably more than I’m smart enough to handle. But I would never —” He swallows, jaw tight. “I would never touch her like that. Ever.”

Steve holds his gaze for a long moment.

The air is heavy with unspoken calculations.

Finally, Steve nods once.

“Good,” he says. “Because she deserves soft. And safe. And steady.”

Eddie huffs a breath. “Steady might be pushing it.”

Nancy finally speaks, voice cool but not cruel. “Just don’t prove Hawkins right about you.”

Robin tilts her head. “Yeah. We already like her too much to hide a body.”

There’s a beat.

Eddie almost smiles.

Almost.

Then he straightens, all theatrical bravado sliding back into place — but thinner now. More honest.

“You have my word,” he says. And this time, it isn’t dramatic. It’s a vow.

At the end of the hallway, you appear — laughing at something a classmate said, unaware of the tribunal that just took place in your defense.

Eddie’s entire expression softens instantly.

Steve notices.

Nancy notices.

Robin definitely notices.

Steve steps aside, clapping Eddie once on the shoulder as he passes.

“We’re watching you, Munson.”

Eddie nods.

“Wouldn’t expect anything less.”