Between Eleven and Max Mayfield and Will Byers and Steve Harrington as siblings.
The late afternoon sun dipped low over the quiet town of Hawkins, staining the sky with hues of orange and purple. It had been months since the gate to the Upside Down was closed, since the Mind Flayer’s tendrils had been severed from the world of the living. Life in the small Indiana town had regained a semblance of normalcy, or at least as normal as it could be for those who had glimpsed the shadowed abyss lurking beneath reality’s surface.
Eleven, or Jane Hopper, as she was officially known, sat cross-legged on her bed, head bent over a well-worn Dungeons & Dragons manual. She lingered over a page, tracing her finger along the lines of text as she silently read. The room around her was a time capsule of her journey—a blend of childlike innocence with tokens of the battles she and her friends had weathered.
Downstairs, a soft humming filled the house as Joyce Byers prepared dinner, the scent of homemade lasagna wafting up the stairs. Eleven's stomach grumbled, but she couldn't shake the sense of unease that had settled over her since morning. Her powers remained frustratingly out of reach, slipping through her mental grasp like smoke whenever she tried to summon them. But today was different. A tingle at the back of her mind, a feeling of electricity in the air, hinted at something more.
A skateboard’s rhythmic clatter broke the stillness outside, and Eleven glanced out her window to see Max Mayfield gliding down the street. Bright red hair flew behind her like a comet's trail. As she coasted closer, Eleven could see the determined set of Max's jaw, a look that meant she was deep in thought. The bond between them had strengthened in the aftermath of their recent ordeals; in many ways, Max was more sister than friend.
Will Byers, with his eternally ruffled hair and introspective eyes, turned the corner just in time to see Max hop off her board at the front of the Byers’ house. Will carried an urgency about him that was new, a flame kindled from the ash of his past sufferings. He was emerging as a strategist, his intimate knowledge of the Upside Down transforming from a traumatic affliction to a guiding force.
Finally, the sound of an engine signaled the arrival of the unofficial big brother, Steve Harrington. His car, once a symbol of teenage freedom, now felt more like a vessel on a tireless patrol around the neighborhood. Steve had found purpose in their unit of misfits, his protective instincts honed into something akin to guardianship.
They gathered in the living room, an assembly of faces marked by battles fought and won, a familial mosaic pieced together by shared history. Joyce offered warm smiles and servings of lasagna big enough to threaten the seams of reality itself. Though not present in the conversation, she was privy to the ties that bound these children, accepting of the adopted family that had grown under her care.
As the sky darkened outside and the chatter waned, Steve's voice cut through the rest, "Anyone else feel like it's too quiet lately? Like the calm before some kind of freaky supernatural storm?"
The room fell silent, each member of the group reflecting on Steve's words. They knew their experiences were not ones from which they could simply move on; the shadow of the unknown always seemed a mere breath away.
Eleven looked around at her assembled family, each person representing a chapter of her life. But as her gaze lingered on Max, who was uncharacteristically quiet, a sudden chill crept up Eleven's spine. It was an all-too-familiar sensation, a precursor to the visions that once served as her link to the mysterious and the monstrous.
Max caught Eleven's stare, her eyes momentarily glossing over with a faraway look. She shook her head as if to dismiss a dizzy spell, and forced a smile, "I’m just tired, that's all."
Yet as sleep claimed the household, a restless energy pulsed through Eleven’s dreams. Images flashed behind her eyes—darkened halls, flickering lights, and a foreboding sense that the stillness of Hawkins concealed a presence that had not yet revealed itself. It was waiting, watching. It had always been waiting.
And in her dream, Eleven heard a voice, as clear as if it were spoken into the quiet of her room, "Jane, it’s not over."
Her eyes snapped open to the stillness of the night, heart thundering against her ribcage. She knew in her bones that the peace they’d fought for was fraying at the edges. Something was stirring in Hawkins, echoing through the void. And she feared this time, it wasn’t just the Upside Down reaching out—it was something seeking to breach the gap between them, an echo ready to become a roar.