Chapter Text
Steve’s house was louder than it had been in a long time.
People filled the living room in every possible way,sprawled across the carpet with blankets, perched on couch arms, leaning against each other with the kind of comfort that only came from surviving too much together. The air smelled like buttered popcorn and soda and something faintly burned from the microwave.
There were two couches. One sat beneath the window, its cushions sagging with age.
The other pressed against the right wall, and that was where Steve ended up, wedged between Eddie and Robin. Eddie’s leg bounced constantly, an absent rhythm, while Robin leaned back, relaxed, her shoulder occasionally brushing Steve’s arm. Steve had claimed his own blanket without thinking, the fabric pulled loosely around his waist like a habit he didn’t remember forming.
On the opposite couch, Hopper sat hunched forward, elbows on his knees. Joyce was beside him, Will tucked close to her side, quiet but present. Everyone else crowded the floor, Dustin, Mike,El, Lucas, Max,forming a patchwork of blankets and crossed legs and half-empty bowls. Erica was sitting leaning on the end of the couch.
Jonathan and Nancy were Cuddling on the floor.
A stack of VHS tapes sat in the center of the coffee table.
Mike reached for one.
It was blank.
No title. No handwriting. Nothing but dull black plastic.
The room erupted instantly.
“What? No way.”
“Mike, that’s not funny.”
“Pick something normal.”
Mike only grinned, holding the tape higher, stubborn as ever.
“No title, no name,” he said. “Doesn’t that make it better? It’s a surprise.”
More groans followed, but they faded into reluctant laughter. Steve barely looked up.
“It’s fine,” he said, shrugging. “Surprise movie.”
That was that.
The tape slid into the VCR with a soft click, followed by the familiar whirring hum. Someone cheered. Someone else tossed popcorn into the air.
Then the sound cut out.
The screen flickered.
A close-up filled the television: a man’s hand, rough and unfamiliar, cracking open a beer can. The hiss was sharp, unnaturally loud in the room.
He lifted it and drank, the camera lingering just long enough to make the moment uncomfortable.
The image jumped.
Kids walked behind a chain-link fence, their laughter distant and warped by old audio. Another cut showed boys in baseball uniforms, joking, shoving each other lightly.
Then the camera pulled back.
A baseball field.
Sun-bleached grass. Dust in the air.
White text appeared at the bottom of the screen.
North Denver, 1978.
Steve stopped breathing.
The words felt like a hand closing around his throat.
North Denver. 1978.
Every nerve in his body screamed at once,stand up, move, do something, anything.
Run to the TV. Rip the tape out. Break it if he had to. But he didn’t move. His muscles locked, his spine stiffening as if fear had turned him to stone.
Beside him, Robin noticed the change immediately. She turned her head, studying his face. Eddie felt it too,the way Steve’s body went rigid beneath his arm. They exchanged a quick, confused glance.
Without saying anything, Eddie shifted closer and draped an arm around Steve’s shoulders, pulling him in as if it were casual, as if it were nothing.
Steve let it happen. The pressure helped, just barely, grounding him enough to keep him from shaking apart.
On the floor, Dustin squinted at the screen.
“Where’s North Denver?”
“Isn’t it in Florida?” Lucas asked.
“No, it’s not,” Max said flatly.
“Fine, then-”
“Colorado,” Steve said.
His voice came out quieter than he expected.
Everyone turned to look at him.
Dustin grinned. “Whoa. Steve knows his states.”
Steve shrugged, eyes fixed on the television, ignoring the surprise that lingered in the room. His heart was pounding so hard it hurt.
The movie didn’t pause.
A boy appeared on-screen, walking up a small hill, his back to the camera. The image cut again.
Now a girl sat alone on the bleachers, a bag of popcorn in her lap. She leaned forward, cupping her hands around her mouth, her voice carrying clearly through the speakers.
“Come on, Steve. Come on.”
The room froze.
Steve’s vision tunneled. His chest tightened so sharply it felt like something inside him cracked.
Robin’s breath hitched beside him. Eddie’s arm tightened instantly, protective, unyielding.
For half a second, no one spoke.
Then everything exploded at once.
“What did she just say?”
“Did she say Steve?”
“No, rewind that-”
“That’s not-”
Steve couldn’t hear them anymore.
The screen kept playing.
And the past, long buried, had found him again.