when you know, you know ; steve harrington

prologue

1985

Dorothea—Teddy, as most called her—was finally back in Hawkins after five and a half long years. And to her own quiet surprise, it felt... good. Comforting, almost. Like slipping into an old sweater that still remembered the shape of her.

She sat on the edge of her bed, letting her eyes wander across the familiar corners of her room before they landed on a photo album, its cover buried beneath a thin layer of dust. Something about it called to her.

She reached for it slowly, brushing off the dust with careful hands. Her fingertips lingered on the hard cover, tracing the faint letters carved into the front.

S & T

A wistful smile played on her lips as she opened it. The very first page held a Polaroid—two teenagers, both barely thirteen. The boy had his arm wrapped awkwardly around the girl's waist, his face flushed red, not daring to look at the camera. Instead, his gaze was shyly glued to the floor.

Teddy turned the page, a fond warmth blooming in her chest.

There he was again. The same boy, his grin stretched from ear to ear, cake smeared all over his face. His birthday. He looked so genuinely happy, so free in that moment, it made something tug at her heart.

She turned to the next page, expecting more laughter, more lightness—but this time, it hit differently. Her breath caught, and her smile faded into something heavier.

The photo was simple. Just the two of them sitting close, heads leaning together, sharing a moment only they could understand. There was nothing romantic about it—no grand gesture. Just... a stillness, a softness. But somehow, that hurt more.

Her heart clenched. Physically.

She closed the album with a trembling sigh, the ache in her chest blooming quietly. With careful hands, she tucked it under her bed, as though hiding it could stop the flood of memories.

Then, she lay back on her bed, eyes tracing the tiny cracks in the ceiling.

She wondered where he was now.

If he still lived in Hawkins.

If he'd recognize her in a crowd.

If he'd take her back—not as what they were, but as friends.

She wondered if he still thought of her at all. If he remembered any of it. Any of them.

Her vision blurred as tears gathered, and she swallowed the tight lump forming in her throat. Slowly, she closed her eyes.

Let's visit the new mall and refresh my mind.

⸻

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