Stranger Things: Doomsday

Leaving his bike locked in the rack, Steven paused for a moment, his eyes scanning the vibrant movement in front of the school. Boys and girls arrived in groups, stepping down from noisy yellow buses or getting out of cars pulling into the parking lot. Clusters gathered in circles, laughing and chatting excitedly, while others hurried toward the entrance.

Steven closed his eyes, feeling the emotions flow in a chaotic mix of joy, nervousness, boredom, anxiety, excitement, and even anger. Despite months of trying, he hadn't managed to create the mental barrier to block them. Maybe his powers weren't capable of it, or maybe he still lacked the necessary control, but whatever the reason, that time hadn't been wasted.

Steven had learned to navigate his powers better, like a sailor beginning to understand the currents of the sea. He not only felt more resistant to the emotions of others, but had also discovered new "tricks." And now, standing in front of the school and focused on his goal of becoming famous, he knew exactly what to do.

Taking a deep breath, he dove into the emotional storm around him, searching for the brightest ones — happy, lively, confident, and vibrant emotions. Once he found them, he pulled them toward himself. The difference was instant.

It was hard to describe the feeling of being flooded with positive emotions. If Steven had to guess, he'd say it was like being under the effect of some drug — no, a thousand times better than a drug. It was a euphoria that danced through his whole body, making him feel light and invincible. Part of him feared becoming addicted to it, but for now, it was exactly what he needed.

He adjusted the straps of his backpack and, with a wide smile on his face, walked confidently into Hawkins Middle School. As he crossed the doors, he was swallowed by the chaos of the hallways. Blue metal lockers slammed shut, groups of students crowded together between laughter and shouts, and the scent of floor wax mixed with the sweet perfume of the girls. Colorful posters covered the walls, announcing a fall dance, basketball games, and other events.

Steven kept a steady pace and followed the hallway to a half-filled classroom. A few desks were occupied, some students resting their heads on their arms or scribbling in notebooks, while others leaned against the walls chatting. Steven chose a desk in the center, where he could observe the room's dynamics, and let his backpack slide to the floor before sitting down. He crossed his arms, feeling some eyes on him with curiosity, and others with caution.

He memorized the faces of those who seemed curiosity and turned to the boy on his left, who radiated boredom and disinterest. Steven decided to take a chance. "Hi, I'm Steven Harrington, but my friends just call me Steve," he said, offering his hand with a friendly smile.

The boy looked up, first at the extended hand, then at Steven's face. For a few seconds, nothing happened — and just as Steven thought he might be left hanging, the boy shook his hand. "You're new here, right?"

Steven laughed, letting go of his hand. "It's that obvious, huh?"

"Kind of," the boy said with a shrug. "I'm Tommy. Tommy Hagan." He straightened up a bit in his chair, boredom giving way to curiosity. "Where are you from?"

"Los Angeles."

Tommy widened his eyes a bit. "Ohh, that's far. What brought you to this middle of nowhere?"

"I was adopted."

"Oh..." Tommy looked away, scratching the back of his neck, visibly awkward. "Man, that's... like, cool, right? I mean, Hawkins isn't LA, but... uh... do you like basketball?"

Steven smiled inwardly, enjoying the conversation. "Of course I do. What about you?"

********

After a few minutes, the sound of the bell echoed through the school, and a mustached man entered the room, closing the door behind him. Steven paused his conversation with Tommy and turned his attention to the newcomer, who was practically screaming excitement and enthusiasm.

"Hello, class! First of all, a very warm welcome to Hawkins Middle School!" the man said with a wide smile. "I'm Scott Clarke, your science teacher." He lifted a stack of papers. "I've got your schedules here. So, I'm going to ask each of you to stand up one by one, say your name, share a few hobbies, and come pick them up."

Steven felt the nervousness sweep through the room.

"So, who wants to start?" Clarke asked, his eyes scanning the class "Come on, folks! No need to be shy. We'll be spending a lot of years together, so we might as well start getting to know each other!"

The students glanced at each other, each one waiting for someone else to take the lead.

'...I guess this is the moment,' Steven raised his hand.

"There he is," Clarke pointed at him.

Steven stood up, feeling everyone's eyes on him. "My name is Steven Harrington, but my friends just call me Steve. I'm new in town, so I hope I can get to know all of you. As for my hobbies, I like basketball, hanging out with friends, and lately I've been trying to learn how to play the guitar—though I have to admit my fingers aren't exactly cooperating."

A few students chuckled, and Steven felt their nervousness ease up.

"Well, Steve, let me also welcome you to Hawkins," Clarke said, smiling at him as he extended him one of the sheets. "I'm sure you'll be very happy here."

Steven walked over to him and took the sheet. "Thank you, sir." He returned to his seat and sat down, pleased to see that everyone's interest in him had grown.

********

[Three Months Later]

In the blink of an eye, three months had passed, and Steven had never been more satisfied with his life.

School was going great. He stood out in P.E. class, where his agility and precision in shooting caught the basketball coach's attention—who already saw him as a promising addition to the team. In regular classes, Steven impressed the teachers with quick, always accurate answers, quickly becoming a model student.

Socially, Steven was a hit. He knew pretty much all the "popular" sixth graders, from future athletes to aspiring cheerleaders. His way of talking, a blend of humor and confidence, naturally drew people in. That wasn't hard when he knew exactly when to crack a joke, listen closely, or flash a smile to defuse any tension.

But real friends—the kind he felt truly comfortable with—were few. Tommy was the main one. Since the first day of school, Tommy had become his adventure buddy, always ready for a hangout or a game of basketball. The two spent hours together, whether playing, riding their bikes around Hawkins, or talking about everything from bands to girls.

The other person who was always around was Carol Perkins, a sharp-tongued girl who spoke faster than she thought. Steven had met her through Tommy, who'd known her since kindergarten. Carol was like a storm—unpredictable, loud, and impossible to ignore. At first, Steven found it hard to deal with her constant teasing and biting remarks, but over time, he learned to tolerate her presence. Sometimes, he even liked the chaos Carol brought. Just sometimes.

********

Winter had hit Hawkins hard, and for the first time, Steven witnessed the aftermath of a snowstorm. He and Tommy were standing on the street in front of his house, the ground covered in a thick layer of snow that shimmered under the pale sunlight, squeezed between gray clouds. The cold air bit at Steven's cheeks, but he couldn't take his eyes off the landscape.

The snow looked like something magical — as if the world had been wrapped in a white blanket. He thought he'd hate it when the snow came because of the color, but this was a different kind of white than the lab walls. It was alive, bright, almost welcoming.

He crouched down, scooping up a handful with the wool gloves Mary had insisted he wear, and watched the flakes slowly melt against the warmth of his hands. 'Incredible...'

"Uhh, so cold!" Tommy grumbled with a trembling voice, stomping his feet on the ground to try and warm up. "Why are we even out here, Steve? It's freezing!"

"Quit being dramatic," Steven said, eyes still fixed on the snow.

"Dramatic? Dude, this stuff kills!"

"I know..." Steven shaped a snowball, a little clumsy, and held it like it was something precious. "It's just... I've never seen snow like this before. So can you shut up and stop ruining my first memory?"

Tommy raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't it snow in LA?"

"Not for as long as I can remember," Steven replied, tossing the snowball into the air and watching it fall apart on the way down.

Suddenly, the rumble of an engine broke the silence. A green Chevy Impala, its paint chipped in places, pulled up beside them. The driver's window rolled down, revealing Tina, Carol's older sister, a cigarette dangling from her lips and the look of someone having a rough day. Steven could clearly feel her frustration and impatience.

Carol stepped out from the passenger seat, a large bag slung over her shoulder. "What are you two idiots doing out here?"

"Don't look at me!" Tommy said indignantly, pointing at Steven. "It's his fault!"

"Nobody forced you to follow me!" Steven snapped.

"And what was I supposed to do? Sit alone in your living room?"

"Why not?!"

"Hey!" Carol interrupted, stepping in front of them with one hand on her hip. "Can we have this conversation inside?"

"Great idea," Tommy exclaimed, already heading toward the house.

Steven began following him alongside Carol, but Tina's voice made him stop. "Listen, I should give you a speech about how you need to be responsible and blah-blah-blah. But I'm not in the mood. Just don't do anything that lands you in jail or the maternity ward, got it?"

Steven felt his face burn as a wave of intense embarrassment surged from Tommy and Carol at the same time.

"See you tomorrow, Carol," Tina finished, stubbing out her cigarette in the car's ashtray, rolling up the window, and speeding off in the Impala, which left behind a trail of smoke and churned-up snow.

The three of them stood still, watching the car until it disappeared around the corner.

"Carol, why does your sister always have to be such a jerk?" Tommy asked, breaking the silence.

"Because she was born that way," Carol replied, huffing. "Ignore her. She's been PMSing since 1975."

Steven shook his head and started walking again. "She seems worse than usual today."

"It was kinda hard for us to get here because of the snow. Maybe that made her mood even worse—if that's even possible," Carol shrugged.

The three walked into the house, took off their boots at the entrance, and slipped on the slippers Steven had set out for them. The warmth of the living room was a welcome relief from the biting cold outside. Steven rubbed his hands together to warm them. "So, what do you guys want to do?"

Tommy threw himself onto the couch, stretching out his legs like he owned the place. "I was thinking…" He paused dramatically, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Since the house is all ours, how about we try something new? Like… snooping through your parents' liquor cabinet?"

Carol dropped her bag on the couch and raised an eyebrow, a smile already forming on her lips. "Seriously, Tommy? That's what you call 'something new'? You snoop through your uncle's liquor cabinet every week."

"Hey, that's different!" Tommy protested, pointing a finger at her. "Uncle Frank only has cheap beer and crappy whiskey. I bet Steve's parents have something way more… sophisticated."

Steven frowned. "I thought we were going to… watch a movie?" Since James and Mary were away on a work trip, he had the house to himself for three whole days. And not wanting to be alone, he had asked Tommy and Carol to hang out. But now, Steven was starting to wonder if that had been a good idea.

"We'll do that later, man," Tommy said, springing up from the couch with renewed energy. "First, the drinks. Where do your parents keep them?"

Steven hesitated, a knot forming in his stomach. He knew exactly where the liquor cabinet was, but the idea of messing with his parents' things without permission just felt… wrong. Still, the eager look on Tommy's face and Carol's teasing smile, along with the buzz of excitement radiating from both of them, made him give in.

"Alright," he sighed, gesturing for them to follow. "But if I get in trouble for this, I'm blaming you two."

"Relax, Steve," Tommy said, giving him a light pat on the shoulder. "No one's gonna find out."

'I hope so…'

********

[Two months later]

Since escaping the lab, Steven had learned a lot about human interaction and the countless ways people connected, laughed, and celebrated. But there was one tradition he never quite understood: birthdays.

Why did people make such a fuss over a day that simply marked the passage of time? Why celebrate the fact of getting older and closer to the end? He couldn't wrap his head around it, even after attending a few birthday parties and seeing how genuinely happy the birthday person seemed.

Until February 27, 1979, came.

It was a Sunday, and Steven sensed something was off the moment he went to have breakfast. Mary was buzzing with energy and oddly cheerful—completely out of sync with their usual morning routine. James, who usually slept in, was already up. And to top it all off, Tommy showed up uninvited, wearing a forced smile and claiming he needed help picking out shirts.

Steven didn't buy the story for a second. First, because Tommy would never ask for his help picking out clothes. Second, because of his emotions. Tommy was blatantly lying. Still, Steven decided to play along, following his friend to downtown Hawkins.

The next few hours were a string of odd moments. Tommy pointed at store windows, asking vague questions about shirts, clearly with no intention of buying anything. He also kept changing the subject too quickly, laughed nervously, and even tripped over a sidewalk while trying to act casual.

"You okay, man?" Steven finally asked.

"Me? I'm great! Totally fine!" Tommy replied, his voice rising an octave. He rubbed his hands together and glanced at his watch. "I think we can head back now, right? I'm tired of looking at shirts."

Steven narrowed his eyes but didn't push it. When they returned to the Harrington house, his confusion peaked as he sensed the presence of several people inside. His heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, fear took over. Instinctively, he reached out with his powers, afraid it might be an ambush from the lab.

But the emotions he picked up didn't match that possibility: a vibrant mix of tension, excitement, and anticipation, with hints of joy. No trace of hostility or coldness. He blinked, staring at the door, trying to piece things together. 'What's going on here?'

"Steve, what are you waiting for? Open the door!" Tommy urged, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

Steven turned to him, eyes half-closed. "What… is going on, Tommy?"

"Nothing! Just… open the door, come on!" Tommy insisted, his nervousness starting to spill over.

With a sigh, Steven turned the doorknob and pushed the door open. The living room was dark for a split second, and then—

"SURPRISE!"

The lights came on, revealing a burst of color and familiar faces. Mary stood in the center, grinning from ear to ear. Carol was beside her, holding a handful of streamers she tossed into the air with an exaggerated shout. A few classmates were scattered around the room, laughing and clapping. The dining table had been moved into the living room and was covered with a colorful cloth, a chocolate cake glowing with lit candles in the center, surrounded by plates of sandwiches, sodas, and bowls of snacks. Blue and yellow balloons floated across the ceiling, and a hand-painted banner read, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

'What the… fuck'

***

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, images or songs featured in this fic. Additionally, I do not claim ownership of any products or properties mentioned in this novel. This work is entirely fanfic.