Morning doesn't soften Hawkins.
It just makes everything easier to see.
The town wakes up buzzing, anxious, hungry for answers.
And somewhere deep down, everyone knows:
Two girls don't die like that by accident.
Hopper + Nancy
Hopper's office smells like stale coffee and rain-soaked paper.
Nancy stands over his desk, the folder open between them.
Her finger traces the purchase order slowly.
Hopper watches her face tighten.
"What is it?" he asks.
Nancy swallows.
"This isn't some random supplier."
She turns the paper around.
At the bottom of the page, under authorization:
Dr. Martin Brenner
Hawkins Community Education Director
The air leaves the room.
Hopper goes still.
"…No," he mutters.
Nancy's voice is sharp. "You know him."
Hopper's jaw clenches like he's biting down on a memory.
"I know the name."
Nancy's eyes narrow. "Who is he?"
Hopper doesn't answer immediately.
Then, quietly:
"He's someone who shouldn't be here."
Silence stretches.
Nancy whispers, "He's a trusted adult. A face people would never suspect."
Hopper's voice turns grim.
"That's why it works."
Town Reaction
By lunchtime, Hawkins is a wildfire.
Rumors spread faster than truth ever could.
At the diner—
"I heard it was poison."
"No, it was drugs."
"They said it came from the school!"
"My daughter's not going back there."
At the grocery store—
"Two cheerleaders. Both perfect girls."
"What kind of monster targets girls like that?"
At Hawkins High—
Parents are pulling kids out early.
Teachers look over their shoulders.
The cheer squad sits together like frightened birds.
And Eddie Munson…
Eddie Munson is still being stared at like a stain that won't wash out.
Basement Fallout
Mike hasn't spoken much since the lab.
Will notices.
Of course he does.
They're in the basement again, the others gone for the moment.
Just the hum of the old heater.
Just them.
Will's voice is soft.
"Mike… about last night…"
Mike stiffens.
"About what you said."
Mike swallows hard.
"I didn't mean to—"
"You did," Will interrupts gently.
Mike looks up, startled.
Will's eyes are careful, raw.
"You said you'd stay with me."
Mike's throat tightens.
"I meant… we stick together. All of us."
Will nods slowly, but it doesn't hide the flicker of disappointment.
Mike's chest aches.
"That's not what I meant," he blurts.
Will freezes.
Mike exhales shakily.
"I mean—god, Will, I don't know what I mean half the time."
Silence.
Will whispers, "Do you ever think about… us?"
Mike's breath catches.
"Will…"
Will looks away, embarrassed. "Forget it."
Mike steps forward.
"No."
Will's eyes flick back.
Mike's voice drops.
"I think about you all the time."
The words sit between them like something fragile.
Will's lips part slightly.
His voice trembles.
"That's not fair."
Mike frowns. "What?"
Will swallows hard.
"Because you don't even realize what you do."
Mike's heart pounds.
Before he can answer—
Footsteps upstairs.
They pull apart like magnets forced away.
The moment lingers anyway.
Unfinished.
Steve Harrington Panic™
Scoops Ahoy is quieter than usual.
Steve is wiping the counter aggressively like the ice cream offended him.
Robin watches him with narrowed eyes.
"You're spiraling."
Steve doesn't look up. "I'm not."
Robin leans closer.
"You are. And it's because of Lena."
Steve's head snaps up.
"What? No."
Robin smirks. "She looks at you like you're a Disney prince."
Steve chokes. "That is not true."
Robin deadpans.
"She got kidnapped and still blushed when you held her arm."
Steve rubs his face.
"I'm twenty. She's—she's a kid."
"She's seventeen."
Steve points wildly. "Still!"
Robin's grin widens.
"Oh my god. You're panicking."
Steve groans. "I'm not panicking. I'm being normal."
Robin snorts. "You've never been normal."
Steve glares.
Robin continues, softer:
"She's scared. You make her feel safe."
Steve's expression falters.
"…That's all I want."
Robin's teasing fades.
"I know, dingus."
The Watcher Escalates
That night, Nancy sits at her desk, papers spread everywhere.
Brenner.
Poison orders.
Cheerleader connections.
Her pen scratches fast.
Then—
Her lamp flickers.
Nancy pauses.
The room goes cold.
A sound outside.
She stands slowly, walking to the window.
The street is empty.
Too empty.
Then her phone buzzes.
Nancy's stomach drops.
Unknown number.
One message.
STOP DIGGING.
Nancy's blood turns to ice.
Another buzz.
YOU'RE NEXT.
Nancy's hand trembles.
But her eyes harden.
She types back with shaking fingers.
WHO ARE YOU?
Three dots appear.
Typing.
Typing.
Then—
One final message:
YOU ALREADY KNOW ME.
Nancy's breath catches.
The lamp goes out completely.
Darkness swallows the room.
And outside—
Across the street—
A figure stands perfectly still.
Faceless.
Familiar.
Watching.