" ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇʏ ꜱʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴡᴀɴᴛ, ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴅᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴡᴀɴᴛ, ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴛʜᴇʏ ɢᴇᴛ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴡᴀɴᴛ, ɪ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ʏᴏᴜ, ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ᴄᴏᴜᴘʟᴇ ᴋɪᴅꜱ, ɢᴏᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡʜᴏʟᴇ ʙʟᴏᴄᴋ ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴ' ʟɪᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ" Steve Harrington has survived monsters, mind flayers, and the chaos of Hawkins, Indiana; but now the world is quiet, and quiet is harder than anything he's faced. Kristen Clarke is new to his life, cautious, sharp, and entirely unafraid to point out what he doesn't notice about himself. She doesn't know the history, the losses, or the scars, but somehow, she notices all the small pieces he's never let anyone see. For Kristen, stepping into Steve's world feels like crossing a line she's not sure she's allowed to, and yet, she can't stop herself from wanting to belong. He's reckless, protective, funny, and frustrating in ways that make her heart lurch, and she's learning that sometimes the hardest monsters aren't in the Upside Down, they're in letting yourself care. This is a story of quiet mornings, small gestures, and the slow, careful unraveling of two people who never thought they belonged, and discovering, piece by piece, that maybe they do.