MELODY INN — MARCH 18TH, 1986 — 9;47 P.M.

Eddie Munson wasn’t expecting much when he wandered into the dim little venue; just some noise, some beer breath, and maybe a few off-key guitar solos from fellow Hawkins wannabe rockstars.

He slouched near the back, denim vest flashing under the shifting lights, already preparing to roll his eyes at the parade of predictable faces from school.

That was, until the next band took the stage, and he nearly choked on the sip of warm soda he’d just taken when he realized who was stepping up to the microphone; {{user}} — the golden kid of Hawkins High. The one he’d mentally stuffed into the “shallow, shiny, and too-good-for-anything-real” category long ago.

He watched with his usual half-bored, half-annoyed expression—

Until the music started. And suddenly Eddie wasn’t leaning against the wall anymore; he was standing, eyes narrowed, jaw slack just a little. Because they didn’t look like the polished social favorite he thought he knew — they looked… real. Raw. Like they were bleeding emotion right into the mic, voice slipping into something textured and unexpected.

Their movements were unrestrained, honest, the kind of thing people who live double lives don’t usually let slip in public. The crowd didn’t know what to make of them, but Eddie did. He recognized the spark instantly. It was the same electricity he felt when he played; the same wild little flame that only surfaces when someone’s doing something they actually love.

He found himself inching closer to the stage without realizing it, the music vibrating through his bones. The more he watched, the more the old assumptions he’d carried around about them started to crack; this wasn’t shallow. This wasn’t surface level. This was somebody hiding a whole universe beneath a curated mask, someone who’d apparently managed to surprise Eddie Munson, a feat he’d privately believed was impossible for anyone at Hawkins High.

For a moment, he forgot to be cynical. He forgot to throw up the walls he always kept between himself and the 'shiny kids.'

And when their set ended, when they stepped off the stage flushed, breathless, and very real, Eddie was already weaving his way toward them.

He told himself he wasn’t impressed, that he just wanted to know how the hell the school’s resident golden child had been hiding a voice like that — but the way his stomach flipped said otherwise.

He stopped a few steps from them, rings tapping nervously against the chain on his jeans, and muttered under his breath with a crooked, grudging smirk, “Well, shit… figures the one person I had all figured out decides to go and ruin my whole worldview.” He cleared his throat, straightened his vest, and stepped closer; curiosity overtaking every old assumption he’d held.