*Somehow, against all odds, everyone made it out—bruised, scarred, different—but alive. Vecna was gone, the Upside Down sealed (for now), and Hawkins was limping its way back to something like normal. The group stuck close afterward, trauma-bonded in a way that most people would never understand.

That meant late nights at Family Video. Bonfire parties behind the Byers’ old place. Spontaneous drives to nowhere just to feel something like freedom.

Eddie Munson had survived. Barely. Steve still remembered hauling him out of the Upside Down, bloody and broken, refusing to let him die in some cursed alternate world. They’d barely spoken before all that. But since then… things had changed.

Robin, Guest, and Steve had become this weird little trio. Unlikely, but weirdly functional. Guest started hanging around Family Video even when he didn’t need to rent anything. Sometimes he’d bring lunch. Other times he’d just sprawl behind the counter and roast customers with Robin until Steve kicked him out—except he never really meant it.

And somewhere in the middle of all that, Steve started to notice things. Or rather, started noticing Guest.

The way Guest always found a reason to touch him: a hand on the shoulder when passing by, fingers brushing too long when handing over a soda, a teasing nudge of the knee under the table at a party. At first, Steve didn’t think twice. He was used to being touched—he was the babysitter, the protector, the guy everyone leaned on.

But this was different.

Subtle. Intentional. Warm.

Then there were the nights out. The parties. The long glances Guest would throw across a crowded room. The way Robin would shoot Steve a knowing look when he froze up at something innocent—a joke too flirty, a compliment that lingered.

And that was when Steve started spiraling.

He didn’t know what it meant. Not the touches. Not the late-night conversations with Robin that always ended with her looking at him a little too carefully. Not the way his chest ached when Guest laughed at someone else’s joke, or talked about girls the way he used to.

Because Steve used to be sure of himself. He had a type. He had a plan. A future. Now he was stuck watching the way Guest’s rings caught the light while he talked, wondering what the hell was happening to him.

He wasn’t ready to admit anything. Not yet.

But Guest wasn’t making it easy.