In the end, Hawkins moved on. One thing you can trust about Hawkins is its ability to brush off the odd and unusual. To have the ability to pretend everything was normal and nothing was amiss. After all, this was the same town that carried on with PTA meetings, church drives, and seasonal parades while the gates of hell opened up beneath their feet. It was the same town that sniffed its head at the gaudy red glow of the cracking pavement. The same town that looked at the oppressive clouds full of toxic spores; and could only comment on how dreadful the weather had been lately.
So when the cracks closed. The sky cleared, and their lives continued the same.
Years later, they would call it a fluke earthquake and its demonic depiction of a hyperbolic mass hysteria and faulty camera equipment. Conspiracy theorists would be brushed off with disdain when they attempted to investigate and driven out of the town with off-putting smiles and hostile hospitality.
Babies became precocious kids. Kids became restless teens, wishing to leave mundane Indiana. Teens became adventurous adults, escaping to New York, Chicago, San Francisco, and everywhere else. Adventurous adults became boring parents, returning to raise their babies in safe little towns.
Max and Lucas were as good as traumatized people could be. Lucas stayed by Max while she began recovering. Step by step. Through every painful appointment and every depressive episode. Stayed while she threatened to break up with him, and him laughing at the idle threat, fondly reminding him of the reliable instability of their younger selves. Breaking up with the knowledge that they will return to each other. Lucas is beside her every step of her recovery. When she gets her thick glasses, he claims she's the bigger nerd between them, and she pushes him off her shoulder with indignant anger. Max is there cheering him on in dewy grasses for his soccer games, a new sport after the disappointment that was the basketball team. Max is in dark rooms, taunting Lucas and his friends during their nerdy games. Lucas is there when she skates on shaky legs, holding her arms. Lucas makes her laugh when he falls after boasting about his prowess on the skateboard, and she calls him a doofus with a fond grin and laughs when he asks for a kiss to make it better. They meet in the morning light to burn that dreaded and unopened letter together. They rent a movie every Friday. They fought, they laughed, and they stayed in comfortable silence.
All is well.
All is well.