Eddie Munson has not sat down once in the last twenty minutes.

He paces the Byers’ living room like a caged animal, boots thudding against the carpet, fingers snapping, rings clicking together in a nervous rhythm that makes Dustin look up from his comic every few seconds.

“Dude,” Dustin says finally. “You’re gonna wear a hole in the floor.”

Eddie whirls on him, grinning so hard it almost hurts to look at. “You don’t get it, man. This is huge.”

Lucas raises an eyebrow from the couch. “You said that about a new Metallica tape.”

“This,” Eddie says, jabbing a finger toward the front door like destiny itself is on the other side, “is bigger.”

Robin, perched sideways in a chair, squints. “Okay, but you’ve been vibrating since breakfast. Who’s moving back, exactly? Some long-lost dungeon master? A drug dealer? A secret Canadian girlfriend?”

Eddie scoffs. “First of all, rude. Second of all—no. It’s an old friend. From before. Before all this.” He gestures vaguely at Hawkins, the Upside Down, the party. “Before I was… me.”

Steve crosses his arms. “You’re being weird.”

“I’m always weird,” Eddie shoots back. Then, softer, almost reverent: “But this is different.”

The knock comes like a starter pistol.

Eddie freezes. Dead still. For half a heartbeat, he looks terrified—then exhilarated—and then he’s moving, practically tripping over his own feet to yank the door open.

You’re standing there with a duffel bag slung over one shoulder.

Hawkins hasn’t dulled you. If anything, the time away sharpened you. Your hair is longer, softer, framing your face in a way that makes Eddie’s breath catch immediately. You’re wearing a loose sweater tucked into fitted jeans, eyeliner subtle but intentional, lips glossed just enough to shine. Pretty in a way that makes people hesitate before assigning you anything concrete.

“Hi,” you say, voice warm, familiar. “Miss me?”

Eddie laughs—a sound that punches out of him like relief. “You have no idea.”

He doesn’t hesitate. He steps forward, grabs you by the collar of your sweater, and kisses you.

Not a quick one. Not a polite one.

A real one.

The room goes silent.

Steve makes a choking sound. Dustin’s jaw drops. Lucas freezes mid-blink. Robin’s eyebrows shoot up so fast they almost leave her face.

You melt into it easily, hands sliding up Eddie’s jacket, fingers curling into his curls like muscle memory. He hums against your mouth, smiling into the kiss, like the world finally snapped back into place.

When you pull apart, Eddie’s forehead rests against yours. He’s grinning, breathless, eyes bright. “Guys,” he says, without turning around, “this is—”

Dustin finally finds his voice. “Eddie. Dude. We did not know you had a girlfriend.”

You blink.

Eddie stiffens.

Then he laughs. Loud. Bright. Delighted.

“Oh—no,” he says, pulling back just enough to look at you, hands still firmly at your waist. “No, no, no. That’s—wow, that’s actually kinda flattering. But no.”

Steve squints. “Wait. Then—”

Eddie turns fully now, arm still around you, thumb absentmindedly rubbing small circles at your hip like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“This,” Eddie says, proudly, “is my boyfriend.”

The word lands heavy.

Silence. Thick. Charged.

Lucas’s brain visibly short-circuits. “Your… your what?”

Dustin points at you, then at Eddie. “But—you’re—he’s—”

Steve opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. “Huh.”

Robin, meanwhile, is staring at you with something like dawning understanding. Her gaze flicks over your eyeliner, your posture, the way you lean into Eddie without apology. Slowly, her mouth curves into a grin.

“Oh,” she says softly. “Ohhh.”

Eddie’s grip tightens just a little—not possessive, just braced. He glances at you, checking in, eyes asking without words: You good? You want me to keep going?

Dustin looks like his worldview is being gently but firmly shaken. “So… you’re a guy?”

You can feel every eye on you now. The hum of the room. The weight of the moment.

Eddie tips his head back, exasperated but fond. “Yes, Dustin. He’s a guy. A very hot guy who likes to dress pretty.”