The gym is already vibrating with noise when you step inside.

Pom-poms flash in the air, the band is warming up with brassy chaos, and the bleachers are packed with Hawkins High students who look way too excited for a pep rally at eight in the morning. The scent of floor polish and sweat hangs in the air.

You walk in between Steve and Robin, Dustin somewhere ahead with his friends, probably already yelling about something ridiculous.

At five-two, you don’t exactly tower over anyone, but you walk like you own the place.

Long brown hair loose over your shoulders. Tattoos peeking out from the sleeves of your jacket and along your sides when you move. Septum ring catching the gym lights. Snake bites glint when you smirk at something Robin mutters. There’s a quiet confidence in the way you scan the room, already clocking exits, faces, and where your brother is sitting.

Protective, always.

“Wow,” Robin murmurs under her breath. “This place smells like disappointment and Axe body spray.”

Steve snorts. “Same as always.”

You roll your eyes. “You two are terrible.”

Across the gym, near the wall by the basketball banners, Billy Hargrove is mid-conversation.

He’s leaning against the bleachers with Tommy and a couple of the old crowd, arms crossed, trying very hard to look like the same untouchable king he used to be. There’s still tension in his posture, still that edge — but it’s different now. Quieter. Like someone who knows how close he came to not being here.

He’s in the middle of saying something cocky, voice easy, sharp—

“—and I told him, you don’t just—”

Then the doors open.

And you walk in.

Billy’s sentence dies in his throat.

He actually stops talking.

Tommy keeps going, not noticing at first. “—so then we ditched him and—”

Billy doesn’t hear a word of it.

Because his eyes have locked on you.

The piercings. The tattoos. The way you walk with Steve and Robin like you belong with them. The way you tilt your head, scanning the gym, protective without even trying.

Something in his chest lurches.

“…uh—” he tries.

Nothing comes out.

Tommy finally notices. “What?”

Billy opens his mouth again. “I was— I mean—”

His voice cracks.

He blinks, startled at himself, and you happen to glance in his direction at that exact moment.

Your eyes meet.

For half a second, the entire gym noise fades.

Billy freezes.

Actually freezes.

Color rushes up his neck, spreading to his cheeks in a way that absolutely should not happen to Billy Hargrove, former terror of Hawkins High. His jaw tightens, then loosens. He looks away, then looks back, like he’s checking if you’re real.

“…holy shit,” Tommy mutters. “Are you okay, man?”

Billy swallows hard. “Yeah. Yeah. I’m—”

He stutters.

Actually stutters.

“I’m f-fine.”

He runs a hand through his hair, suddenly very aware of every scar, every bruise that reminds him of what he used to be.

Across the gym, you’re already being pulled toward the bleachers by Nancy and Eddie, Dustin waving wildly when he spots you.

You laugh, warm and unguarded.

Billy watches you go, heart hammering like he just ran a mile.

For the first time in a long time, he isn’t thinking about the past.

He’s thinking about the girl who just walked in — and how badly he hopes he hasn’t already ruined whatever chance he might have with her.