Archive of Our Own ^beta

Hawkin's Deadbeat Dad Club had three regular members. Not for a lack of deadbeat dads, of which there were plenty in the sleepy town, but because of the exclusive circumstances of the first unofficial meeting.

In a cramped office at the back of the police department, young Jonathan Byers sat on a lumpy brown couch, stiff and alert, waiting for his mother to return. A heap of blankets obscured his little brother, five year old Will, asleep in his lap. He kept himself awake by looking over the pictures and paraphernalia hung on the walls, occasionally rubbing at his black eye. Mostly it was shots of the police chief, a gray old man Jonathan couldn't remember the name of, shaking hands with an assortment of people: suits in front of town hall, the staff at the diner, the highschool principal. But there was also a gun, a revolver, behind glass above a filing cabinet.

The door opened; Jonathan startled.

"Here you are," said Flo, the kind receptionist who had brought Will and Jonathan to the office while their mother talked with the chief. She held the door open, offhand holding a pitcher with a clutch of glasses balanced in the crook of her arm. She nodded at someone in the hall, offering the same smile Jonathan had received an hour earlier. "Come sit with the Byer boys."

And in walked an older boy he didn't recognize. A middle schooler with a mop of brown hair and a toothy grin.

"Thanks Flo, you're the best," he winked up at the old receptionist.

She scoffed at him, her smile brightening as she followed him into the room. Then she turned to Jonathan. "This is Eddie," she introduced the boy. "Eddie, this is Jonathan and—where's Will?"

"Sleeping," Jonathan mumbled, both tightening his hold on his brother while pushing back the blankets to reveal his downy hair.

"Ah, well," Flo fumbled a moment, then put the pitcher and glasses on the cluttered desk. "I brought you all some lemonade. Your mother is almost done with the chief."

"Thanks."

"Well, I think I've got everything handled here!" Eddie announced. "Unless you're hiding the donuts on me, Flo?"

She ruffled his curls, and Eddie batted at her arm until she stopped. "I'll see if I can find you something before your uncle gets here."

"Thanks, Flo!" Eddie beamed at her. "You're the best."

"Behave," she pointed at Eddie, faux seriousness pulling across her face as she backed out of the office.

"Who do you take me for?" Eddie raised both his arms in a sort of flailing shrug. In the hallway, Flo laughed and closed the door. 

For years to come, Jonathan kept that picture of Eddie in his head. Shoulders slowly crumbling, attention set on the door, smile squeezing his eyes to lash-filled slits. He wore dark jeans with stained knees, a too-long shirt decorated with music notes, and an unzipped sweater. A short sigh disturbed his curls, then he whirled around to sort the lemonade.

"Want some?" Eddie asked, already setting all three glasses in a row. He flashed Jonathan a smile, then peered over his shoulder at the door.

"Sure," Jonathan tucked the blankets back around Will; the younger boy squirmed but didn't wake.

"How'd you get it?" Eddie blurted, sloshing lemonade into all three cups.

Frowning, Jonathan blinked at the other boy. "Get what?"

"You know…" Eddie trailed off, setting the pitcher aside and taking one of the cups. Then he looked at Jonathan and gestured to his own eye, unbruised. "It's a good one," he rushed on, holding the lemonade out for Jonathan. "Fight at school?"

"Something like that," Jonathan lied. He kept one hand on Will as he took the drink from Eddie. "Thanks."

"No problem," Eddie grinned, moving around the desk with his own lemonade to take the chief's spinning chair. He fell into it with an oof of dust, then jittered in place. "What're you in for?"

"In for?" Jonathan frowned.

"Yeesh, tough crowd," Eddie pulled a face and tried again. "Why'd they put you in the time out room? They threw my dad in the drunk tank again, so I'm waiting for my uncle."

"Again?" His brow hurt where it pulled over his bruised eye.

"Yea, it’s like—" Eddie flipped a hand through the air, then tugged on one of the drawers. It was locked. "—a whole thing. I think Flo wants me to stay with Wayne—he's my uncle—but dad just, I dunno…" he shrugged, then chugged half his lemonade and put the cup aside. Scrambling up to his knees, he started picking through pen holders. "He's probably going to jail again."

"Again?" Jonathan repeated.

"Yea," Eddie laughed, scrunched his nose at Jonathan before finding a paperclip. "Aha! Ah—" he sat back, twisting the clip into a longer shape. "Haven't you read about the Munsons in the paper? Everyone knows."

Jonathan shook his head.

And Eddie's expression cleared. "Oh. Really?"

"Really."

"Oh."

Both boys were quiet, Jonathan sipping his juice as Eddie fiddled with the paperclip. At length, Eddie was happy with his modifications and bent over the corner of the desk to peer at the locked drawer.

"He used to steal cars," he continued, mostly hidden behind the desk. "Take 'em to the shop, chop 'em for parts, that sort of thing."

"People do that?"

"Yea, people do that," he leaned to squint at Jonathan, then went back to what he was doing. "But nowadays he just gets drunk and yells at everyone." Something clicked, and Eddie cheered as the drawer slid open.

Pulling his heels up onto the edge of the couch, Jonathan craned to watch as Eddie rooted through the illicit drawer. "What're you doing?"

"Just living up to the stereotype, Jonny-boy," Eddie winked at him, and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. "Deadbeat Munson and his freak kid, outcasts of Hawkins."

"I don't think you're a freak," said Jonathan.

"You don't even know me," Eddie countered, emptying out the carton to hide the cigarettes loose in his pockets. 

"You're not a freak," Jonathan clutched Will tighter. 

"Dude, it's fine," Eddie laughed, and Jonathan relaxed. "Freak is the new cool. It's metal."

Jonathan blinked at him until his eyes started to water.

Eddie pushed the drawer close and tilted his head at Jonathan. "You okay?"

"It was my dad," Jonathan blurted.

Eddie frowned at him. "Your dad?"

"My dad—" and he gestured to his black eye, then wiped the back of his hand over his wet lashes. "It's—uh…" he trailed off, bit his lip.

"A whole thing?" Eddie supplied.

"Yea," Jonathan sniffed. Letting go of Will, he pulled up the neck of his t-shirt and scrubbed at his eyes.

A beat of silence, then Eddie stood and walked around the desk to the lumpy couch. Lifting the edge of the blanket pile, he scooted onto the furthest cushion with his legs crossed. When Will twisted, little arms flailing as he turned further into the bedding, both the older boys spent a quiet moment resettling. 

Then Eddie sat back against the arm rest and grinned. “Sucks, right?”

Something about the older boy’s blunt tone pulled a laugh from Jonathan. “Yea.”

The door opened, and they both turned to watch Joyce Byers step into the room ahead of Flo. “Yes, thank you very much,” Joyce said over her shoulder. “I really appreciate you keeping an eye on my boys.”

“Of course, Joyce. And if you need anything, be sure to call.”

“I will,” she said, turning to the couch. Only then did she notice the third child on the couch. “Oh! Jonathan, who’s your friend?”

Flo opened her mouth to respond.

Jonathan leaned forward, rushed out. “This is Eddie.”

“Hiya,” Eddie waved.

“He’s cool,” Jonathan added, looking at Flo for a moment before fixing his eyes on his mom. “Metal.”

Joyce hesitated, but smiled. “Okay,” she nodded, smiling at Eddie. “Cool. Nice to meet you, Eddie.”

“Uh—” Eddie blinked at her, then frowned at Jonathan.

Jonathan only shrugged.

“Hey,” Eddie repeated, looking again at Joyce. “Nice to meet you, too.”

“Your uncle will be here soon, Eddie,” said Flo. “I just got off the phone with him.”

“Fifteen minutes?” Eddie tilted, setting his feet back on the ground.

“About that,” Flo agreed.

“Can we wait?” Jonathan asked.

“Oh, I don’t know—” Joyce inhaled, looking between the boys. Jonathan pressed his lips together, and Eddie hunched his shoulders. “Sure, why not?” They all breathed. “Fifteen minutes isn’t too long.”

“There’s lemonade!” Eddie pointed at the desk, where the third glass was half full next to the pitcher.

“Thank you, Eddie,” Joyce sunk into the chair opposite the desk, and Flo left them alone with a promise to let them know when Wayne arrived. “Metal, that’s a type of music, right?”

“Right,” and Eddie jumped into a ramble about all his favorite albums and which bands he wanted to see in concert. Fifteen minutes turned into half an hour. Jonathan was snickering into his hands, laughing inexplicably at Eddie’s impersonation of his music teacher at school, when the door opened again.

“I’m here, I’m here,” huffed a tall man with a passing resemblance to Eddie. But where Eddie had wild curls, Wayne had cropped his hair short. 

“Hey, Wayne!” Eddie cheered.

“Eddie,” Wayne breathed a sigh of relief. Then he took in the rest of the room, squinting at the Byers boys and stopping at their mother. “Joyce.”

“Hey, Wayne,” she gave a little wave, quieter than Eddie had been. “I didn’t realize you had a kid.”

“Yea, ha,” Wayne stepped closer to Eddie, rubbing his hand through the boy’s curls. “Nephew actually. But definitely a Munson.”

“I don’t know,” Joyce stood up with a stretch, rubbing at a sore spot on her back. “Sounds like Eddie’s going to be a musician when he grows up. Break the mold.”

“Yea?” Wayne’s eyes softened and he looked down at his nephew. 

Eddie shrugged a little, standing to lean into his uncle’s side.

“We should go,” said Joyce. She unearthed Will from the blankets and hoisted the little boy into her arms. Jonathan scrambled up after, hovering at his mother’s elbow. “It’s been a long night.”

“Thanks,” said Eddie. “For waiting with me.”

“Of course,” Joyce smiled at him. “A friend of Jonathan’s is a friend of mine.”

“Mom,” Jonathan hissed.

Wayne chuckled, only to stop when he got a proper look at Jonathan’s face. He cleared his throat, wrapped an arm around Eddie and pulled the door wide for Joyce to go thru first. “Lonnie’s kids?”

“My kids,” Joyce corrected. 

They walked together out to the parking lot, where their vehicles stood next to one another. Wayne unlocked his door and ushered Eddie in, and Jonathan fished out Joyce’s keys to help her settle Will in the back. From the passenger seats, the boys waved at each other. Then they were off, first Wayne with his truck then Joyce with her car, heading in opposite directions.

The first few minutes of the ride home were quiet, but eventually Joyce sighed. “Things are going to be different from now on,” she said. “Better.”

“Sure,” said Jonathan. He sank low in his seat, pulling on his seatbelt and staring out the window.

—

“Big day,” Joyce grinned at him from her spot behind the steering wheel. They inched down the road, clogged in the morning traffic between the elementary and middle schools.

The rest of the year had crawled by, then the next. Things were different, better. But in some ways, the exact same. 

“Yea,” Jonathan held his backpack closer to his chest, fiddling with its bright blue zipper. “I can walk the rest of the way.”

“No. No, it’s okay, we’ve still got—” she checked her wristwatch. “—five minutes? Come on!” And she banged the steering wheel.

Jonathan flinched, then sighed. “I’ll be fine, mom. There’s people all over the place, Lonnie won’t be able to get me.”

“I know, it’s not—” she breathed. “It’s not that. It’s your first day at a new school! I want to be there, and this stupid—” she laid on the horn.

Winching, Jonathan covered his ears. 

“—idiot!” She banged on the horn, breaking up the sound into a series of honks. “Won’t stop me!”

“Mom, that won’t work—”

But the car in front of them moved, a pink clad arm waving out the driver side window in some facsimile of an apology. “Aha!” Joyce cheered, reaching over to rub Jonathan’s shoulder.

The bell rang as they pulled up in front of Hawkins Middle School. Jonathan jumped out, swinging his bag onto his back as he jogged toward the throngs of kids. Behind him, Joyce called out “I love you!”

There was a starting assembly where all the kids were sorted, youngest first. Jonathan was at the front of Mr Clarke’s line up, shuffling awkwardly as the girl beside him talked to her friends. The teachers were busy, each with a clipboard that they marked up as they walked the length of their assembled students. So Jonathan was distracted and unsuspecting when someone sidled up to him and dropped an arm across his shoulders.

“Byers!”

He tensed under the weight, only to relax when he recognized who it was. “Eddie,” he elbowed the other boy for space, but grinned.

“Oof!” Eddie played up the injury, doubling over and clutching at his ribs. Then he winked and stood up. “Looking good, Jonny-boy. Gotten better at fighting?”

“No,” Jonathan rolled his eyes. “Don’t call me that.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Eddie raised both his hands.

“Munson!” Someone called from across the gym. Maybe half the students turned, at least for a moment, to see an old balding man leaning through the gym doors. “My office!”

“Oops, the authorities,” Eddie bared his teeth in a scowl, then smiled at Jonathan again. “I’ll find you at lunch?”

“Yea,” Jonathan nodded. “Sure.”

—

Two weeks later, Eddie came to school with a swollen jaw and a tender shoulder. Jonathan didn’t actually get to see him until the lunch hour was almost over. For forty five minutes he sat alone in the cafeteria, tangent to Eddie’s band friends who tolerated him but didn’t know his name. Then Eddie whooped from across the room, catching the attention of all the loiterers. 

Something in Jonathan settled, only for his hackles to rise as he noticed the stiff way Eddie moved his arms, mimicking an airplane as he wound through the tables. 

“Dude, where have you been!?” One of the other boys—Eric or Aaron, Jonathan couldn’t remember—laughed as Eddie dropped into an empty seat.

“Oh, you know,” Eddie wagged one of his hands, then both his brows. “Here and there, everywhere. And as soon as I got here, Coleman dragged me into his office.” He rolled his eyes, smile lopsided away from his bruised cheek.

“What happened?” Jonathan asked.

Eddie hesitated.

But someone further down the table—Gary or Joffrey, Jonathan couldn't remember—scoffed. “Getting into fights again? Man, who was it this time?”

Like a light switch, Eddie was all smiles. “No one who didn’t deserve it. Now, what did I miss?”

And the subject dropped, everyone accepting that it was just another day in the life of Munson. The lunch bell rang, and the older kids got up to meander to their lockers and be late to Spanish.

Before he could leave, Jonathan leaned across the table. “Eddie,” he kicked, hitting the bench seat beside the other boy.

Eddie scrunched his face, looking at his bare wrist. “Look at the time!”

“You don’t care about the time,” Jonathan widened his eyes. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Eddie lied, scrambling up after his older friends. “See you later?” but he ran off before Jonathan could respond.

“Yea,” he huffed to himself. “Later.”

—

After school, Jonathan checked the music room on the way to Eddie’s locker. Then he ducked into the library, peered through the window of the front office, and even checked both the change rooms. Eventually, he kicked open the bathroom and smelled smoke. 

“Eddie?” He leaned down to check the stalls.

They were empty for a moment, then two feet appeared in the middle stall. There was a shifting squeak, and the stall opened. Eddie exhaled a plume of smoke and frowned. “Jonathan?”

“Come on,” Jonathan grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him towards the door.

“What? What! Wait!” Eddie hissed, flinching.

But Jonathan didn’t let up. “I’m already late, hurry up.”

“Late for what?” Eddie managed one more inhale before tossing the smoldering stub of a cigarette into a sink as they passed. 

“I gotta pick up my brother,” Jonathan explained. 

“Yes, yes, I remember Baby Byers,” Eddie nodded. “Where do I come into this equation?”

“You—” Jonathan huffed, glaring back at his friend. “Look, I don’t wanna make a whole thing about it—”

“—oh,” understanding dawned on Eddie’s face.

“—so, you’re just coming home with me,” Jonathan finished. 

Outside, they doubled on Jonathan’s bike to the elementary school. Even half an hour late, William Byers hadn’t been concerned about his brother’s absence. The younger boy had been distracted with his friend, an equally as excited Michael Wheeler. Mrs Wheeler listened, tight lipped, to Jonathan’s mumbled apology; she stared at Eddie the entire time.

Will took Eddie’s addition in stride.

“How’re we all fitting on the bike?” He asked, frowning at the metal contraption.

“Uh—” Jonathan rubbed the back of his neck.

“We aren’t, obviously,” Eddie jumped in. “It’s your turn behind the wheel, Baby Byers.”

“I’m not a baby,” Will’s expression fluttered, but a smile won out as he turned to Jonathan. “Can I really?”

“Yea,” Jonathan laughed. “Of course. About time you learned.”

—

That’s how they made their way to the Byers house, Eddie and Jonathan each taking a handlebar as Will figured out how to balance. Confidence growing with each mile beneath the tires, Will pulled ahead of them on the final stretch down the Byers' dirt driveway and past their mother's car.

Eddie laughed, hands in his pockets and shoulders slack as he cheered on Will.

Jonathan slowed to a stop. "Hey," he waited until Eddie paused as well. "You really okay?"

"Yea," Eddie quirked a brow at him and grinned. "Great! Really man. Is this about..?" And he gestured to his own bruised jaw. "Cause its nothing, really. Just an accident."

"An accident?" Jonathan frowned. 

"'M fucking clumsy, man. Fell down the stairs."

Jonathan pursed his lips. "I thought you got into a fight."

The thing was, he might have believed Eddie. But the other boy floundered, teeth showing as the lie flinched over his face.

The front door opened, and Joyce stepped out onto the patio. She caught an exuberant Will up in a hug and called for Jonathan to come inside. Again, Jonathan grabbed Eddie by the wrist to drag him along.

"Hey, boys," Joyce smiled, waiting by the door after ushering Will inside. "I was expecting you an hour ago."

"Sorry," Jonathan mumbled.

"My fault," Eddie waved. "Sorry, Mrs Byers."

"That's okay," Joyce shared a look with Jonathan. 

He shrugged and let go of Eddie, then kicked off his shoes and dropped his bag. "Can Eddie stay for dinner?"

Joyce blinked at them both. "Of course, sweetie," she said. Turning to Eddie, she pressed her lips together. "You okay, Eddie?"

"Totally fine!" He laughed an octave too high and pressed a hand to his swollen jaw. "Just fell down at school, no biggie."

"At school?" She clarified, brows drawing together.

Jonathan shook his head.

"Yep!" Eddie popped the sound past his lips. "Nothing to worry about. I should go—"

"Sweetie, no," Joyce put on a smile. "You're staying for dinner, right?"

"Yea, man," Jonathan pushed his shoulder.

Eddie winced the injured limb, hissing.

"Sorry!" Jonathan rushed. "Can we— um—" and he stared, wide eyed, up at his mum.

"Let's get some ice on that," Joyce decided.

They were shepherded into the kitchen, where Eddie was put into a chair while Joyce fished a bag of peas from the freezer. Jonathan put bread in the toaster and poured three cups of juice, leaving one at the table where Will set himself up with paper and crayons.

"Eddie, sweetie, can you lift your arm?" Joyce asked, making a show of putting away dishes and checking the oven. 

"Course," Eddie laughed, one hand pressing the frozen peas to his face. He lifted his good arm, did a full rotation.

"Good, good," Joyce nodded. "And your other arm?"

"Ah—" Eddie choked up, grimacing. He put the peas in his lap and slowly raised the injured arm. At about shoulder height he paused, took a breath, and pushed on. Something popped, and he breathed a little easier. "Of course!"

The toast pinged, and Jonathan switched it out for more bread before grabbing jam and margarine from the fridge.

"Good," Joyce spoke slowly, tone and expression at odds with her words. "Does anyone know you're here? Can I call someone?"

"Um—" Eddie blinked rapidly, and pressed the peas back to his face.

Jonathan brought him and Will the first two pieces of toast, then paused to look at his friend.

"My uncle?" Eddie decided. "Wayne? But he's at work."

Joyce nodded, already moving towards the phonebook. "He still at the bar?"

"Yea," Eddie angled away, looking out the window above the sink.

"Here," Jonathan brought him the juice, but could only hold it out as Eddie laughed, juggling toast and peas.

They traded, and Eddie chugged the entire glass. "Thanks," he gasped, forcing another chuckle before shoving the toast in his mouth.

At the table, Will tapped one of his crayons against the laminate. "Was it your dad?" He asked.

Eddie tensed.

"Will!" Jonathan hissed.

But then Eddie relaxed, shrugging his good shoulder and craning to look at Joyce in the other room. But Mrs Byers was absorbed with the phone. "It's fine," he said. "Everyone knows." 

Will frowned. "If everyone knows, why is it still happening?"

"Well, I mean…" Eddie flailed, finishing off the toast and talking with his mouth full. "They know, they just don't care about Deadbeat Munson or his freak kid."

"You're not a freak," said Jonathan.

At the same time as Will said, "we care."

In the other room, Joyce hung up the phone. "Spoke to your uncle!" She called as she edged back into the kitchen. "He's going to swing by after his shift. What do you boys wanna do until then? Do you have homework?"

"We're just going to hang out," said Jonathan. "How long until dinner?"

—

They fell into a bit of a routine. Whenever they felt like it, Eddie tagged along to the Byers house after school and stayed until Wayne picked him up after dinner. Sometimes Joyce was there waiting for them, but just as often she worked late at the store and the boys heated up leftovers or foraged their own meal from the cupboards.

—

A couple weeks after Halloween, Eddie plopped down at the lunch table across from Jonathan.

"Hey," said Jonathan. He was focused on an overdue math handout, and didn't see the frown the older boy wore. "Do you think Ms Page will be upset if I hand this in tomorrow?"

"I don't know, man," Eddie answered. But his voice was low, distracted. "She's new, probably got something to prove."

Jonathan looked up and studied his friend. "You okay?"

"Yea," Eddie nodded, but looked around at their less than full table. The other band kids were preoccupied in their own conversations, so Eddie leaned forward. "I—uh—I think I saw your dad?"

"Lonnie?"

"Yea," Eddie nodded. "He—um—he was buying something? From my old man. Or selling, I'm not sure."

"What?" 

"I don't know," Eddie shrugged. "I was already late, I didn't stick around. I just thought you should know."

"Right," Jonathan chewed on his lip. "Thanks."

—

It came to a head in last period. Jonathan was sitting in the back row, reading over the corrections on his worksheet, when the door opened and Principal Coleman stepped in. "Byers?"

Jonathan startled, and everyone turned to look at him. The Principal waved him forwards, so Jonathan stuffed his books into his bag and slouched his way out of the room. Coleman said something that Jonathan nodded along to, but a ringing in his ears overwhelmed his senses.

He was escorted to the front office, where Lonnie Byers leaned against the desk talking to the receptionist. When they approached, Lonnie stood up and smiled.

"Happy Birthday, squirt," he said. "I already signed you out, let's go."

"I don't—" Jonathan started.

But Lonnie dropped a hand onto his shoulder and squeezed. "Thanks for the assist, teach," he grinned at Principal Coleman as he steered Jonathan out to the hall. "Come on, bud. We're burning daylight."

Lonnie had the same old corvette with the faulty seatbelts. Jonathan held his breath as they drove out of the parking lot, and only released it when they turned to drive away from the elementary school.

"Where are we going?" He dared to ask.

"To make you a man, Jonny-boy," Lonnie grinned at him.

They drove out to the forest past Loch Nora, abandoning the car on the side of the road. From the truck, Lonnie loaded them both up with hunting rifles and trip wire and beer. Then he led the middle schooler into the bush.

"We'll start with traps," Lonnie explained. He picked an arbitrary place to drop his gear and crack a beer. "Never know when you might need to trap something."

Jonathan frowned, but followed along. 

In a meandering way, they set up a couple dozen snares over a couple of hours. Lonnie pressured Jonathan into draining a beer; but he poured most of it against the base of a tree when Lonnie wasn't looking. Then Lonnie set the empty cans along a fallen log and talked Jonathan through pointing and shooting.

"Shit, Jonny-boy," Lonnie laughed after his third miss, then tipped back his latest beer. "You're terrible."

Jonathan just shrugged, lowering the muzzle of the gun.

"Here," Lonnie tossed aside the can—beer splashed out of it when it bounced on the underbrush. Then he grabbed the rifle out of Jonathan’s hand and took a stance. "I'll show you."

Wobbling, he missed the first two shots then whooped when he made the third, fourth, and fifth.

"See?" He grinned at Jonathan and ruffled the boy's hair. "That's how it's done."

"Sure, yea," Jonathan mumbled.

"Come on," Lonnie shouldered the rifle and picked up the last of the beer. "Let's check the traps."

They'd caught one rabbit, its leg twitching in a noose as it tired itself out trying to scramble away. Lonnie cheered, dropping all his gear then kneeling on top of the little beast.

"Come here," he waved Jonathan forward, then pulled something off his belt. A knife. "Take this."

He did, then Jonathan stood there looking between the knife, the rabbit, and his father.

"Two ways to go about it," said Lonnie. "You can cut its throat, let it bleed, but that takes awhile. Or you can give it one good hit—" he mimicked a chop, aiming at the air beside his son.

Jonathan flinched.

"And boom!" Lonnie finished. "Done."

"I don't—" Jonathan drew in a shuddering breath. "I don't want to."

"You don't want to?" Lonnie scoffed, a hard edge flattening his brow. "I don't give a fuck—life doesn't give a fuck if you don't want to. Sometimes you have to. Got it?"

Jonathan bit his lip.

Lonnie glared. "Got it?"

His shoulders shook.

"Don't make me repeat myself, Jonny—"

"I got it," he gasped, eyes wet. He knelt beside his father, held the knife in both hands.

"All the way around the neck," Lonnie drew a line across his jugular.

Jonathan held his breath and leaned forwards.

The blood was dark red in the dying daylight. Mostly it sprayed into the underbrush, the last arterial spasms fueling the death throes of the animals. But it also splashed on Jonathan's hands and jacket, and when he rubbed his nose he felt it slick across his cheek.

"See? Easy?" Lonnie laughed, clapping Jonathan on the shoulder. Then he paused and tilted his head to listen. "Fuck. Now what?"

Jonathan blinked, but it wasn't long before he heard it too. Voices in the distance, calling both of their names.

"Come on," Lonnie grumbled, cutting the rabbit free and picking up the rifles. He left the other traps. "Let's see what all the fuss is about."

"Jonathan!"

"Lonnie!"

"Jonathan Byers!"

"Here!" He called when they were closer. "I'm here!"

Lonnie scoffed at him, rolling his eyes. But then they were stepping through the trees towards two figures. Two men, one dressed in the Hawkins Sheriff Uniform and the other Wayne Munson.

"Jonathan," Wayne sighed.

"Munson?" Lonnie laughed. "And Hopper? Isn't that a conflict of interests?"

"Shut up, Lonnie," the sheriff spat. "What're you doing here?"

"Uh, teaching my kid to hunt?" He held the rabbit up by its feet. "What the fuck are you doing here, Hop? City get too big for you?"

Jonathan pushed past him and went to stand between Wayne and Hopper. They both reached for the boy on instinct, each taking a light hold of one of his shoulders.

"The fuck?" Lonnie glared, mood dropping. "Get back here, Jonny-boy."

"I'm taking him back to his mother," said Hopper. "And you are to leave town, and leave them alone."

"Fuck you, Hopper, you can't—"

"Fuck you, Lonnie."

And they broke into a screaming match, both men getting into the other's face. For a moment Jonathan stared, then Wayne pulled him away. "Come on," he muttered, keeping a hand on Jonathan’s back.

They stumbled back out to the road, where two trucks were pulled up next to Lonnie’s corvette. Wayne’s beater was familiar, as was the paint job of the Hawkins vehicle. And pacing between the bumpers was Joyce with a cigarette in her shaking hand.

She dropped it when she saw them, and ran the remaining distance to scoop Jonathan into a hug. "Oh, sweetie," she squeezed him close, running a hand through his hair. "I was so worried."

"I'm okay," he said. But he was crying.

"Good, that's good." She sniffled against his shoulder, then pulled away and wiped at the blood on Jonathan’s face. "He didn't do anything..?"

"I killed a rabbit."

"Oh," Joyce frowned, looking up at Wayne.

"I'll wait," Wayne said. He pulled out his keys and tossed them to her. "Take him home, I'll tell Hopper where to find you."

"Thank you, Wayne."

"S'nothing."

"It's not nothing," Joyce insisted, standing and pulling Jonathan to her side. "If it wasn't for you and Eddie, I wouldn't even have known what happened."

"Eddie?" Jonathan leaned back to look at her.

She rubbed his shoulders. "He told us what happened at school. Baby, I'm so sorry— "

"It isn't your fault," said Jonathan.

"I know, sweetie, but it is—"

"It isn't," said Wayne. "You get him home, okay? I'll come 'round with Hopper later."

They bundled into Wayne’s old truck, Joyce triple checking all the controls before starting the ignition. The trip home was quiet, the two passing along idle comments about the more benign parts of their day. At some point, Jonathan pulled off his jacket and used the stained material to scrub his hands and face clean. 

As they pulled into the driveway, Jonathan remembered.

"Where's Will?" He panicked. 

"He's fine," Joyce assured him. "Eddie picked him up after school."

Most of the lights were off, except the hallway and one of the bedrooms. Even across the house they could hear Eddie, plain as day, throwing his voice into a character.

"It cannot be seen, cannot be felt," Eddie crooned with a rasp. "Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt. It lies behind stars and under hills, and empty holes it fills. It comes first and follows after, ends life, kills laughter." 

There was a pause as Joyce and Jonathan crept down the hall, then Will spoke. "What is it?"

At the doorway, they saw Eddie and Will propped up against the headrest. Will was already in pajamas and tucked in, while Eddie sat on top of the blankets with his legs crossed. He had a worn copy of The Hobbit open between them.

Whatever it was, was forgotten as they both looked up at Jonathan and Joyce. The book snapped shut, and Will squirmed.

"Jonathan!" He lifted his arms but didn't get out of bed. "Eddie picked me up from school!"

"I stole your bike," Eddie added. "Dude, you really need a better lock. Took me no time to get through it."

Jonathan laughed, and took a single step before collapsing across the foot of the bed. He groaned into the blankets.

"How come you didn't tell Eddie it was your birthday?" Will continued.

"Yeah man, not cool," Eddie stretched his legs to push at Jonathan’s side. "I would've got you something."

Jonathan flailed a hand without answering.

"You boys okay in here?" Joyce asked. "Need anything? Water? Snacks?"

"I'm good, thanks," Eddie grinned.

"Lemonade?" Will asked.

"Of course, sweetie. Jonathan, would you like anything? I made cake."

"No thanks," he mumbled into the mattress. "Tomorrow?"

"Of course," she patted Jonathan’s leg. "Eddie, your uncle will be coming by later to get you."

"That's cool," he nodded.

"Keep reading," Will demanded. "Jonathan, want us to start over?"

"S'okay." He wrapped his arms around his head, bundling the blankets closer to block out the light. "Just keep going."

Joyce left them alone, and Eddie put on a high tone to recite Bilbo's answers.

—

At the end of the school year there was a half-day dedicated to a talent show; all the profits of the bake sale went towards the meager music program. Though Jonathan wasn’t participating, Joyce still piled both the Byers boys into her car and took a shift selling cupcakes while the students and teachers were setting up.

Jonathan and Will found aisle seats, saving a spot for their mother.

Will was excited, standing in front of his chair and looking around the large gymnasium. He kept turning in circles, every noise in the busy space catching his attention. Jonathan jittered his leg and thumbed at the strap of his new camera, a cheap polaroid.

Then Will jumped and waved. "Eddie!"

"Baby Byers!" Eddie called, breaking away from his friends-slash-bandmates to jog towards them.

Looking up, Jonathan laughed. Not at the ripped jeans or chains or eye liner, all normal features of Eddie's everyday wardrobe, but at his buzzed short hair.

"Yea, yea, laugh it up Byers," Eddie squinted at him. "It was supposed to be a mohawk, it was going to be so cool."

"What happened?" Jonathan snickered, and clicked the polaroid. The camera flashed and spat out a dark photo.

"Warn me!" Eddie pointed at him, then straddled a seat in front of them. He leaned on the back of the chair. "My hand slipped."

Jonathan scoffed.

"Where’s your guitar?" Will asked.

"Back stage," he gestured behind him. 

A platform had been set up with lights and amps and balloons. They could see several instruments leaning against the wall, mixed in with boxes and props. But mostly the view was blocked by a group of popular kids practicing a routine they'd put together in P.E.

"Are those your friends?" Will asked.

Eddie and Jonathan responded in unison: "no."

"Oh," Will frowned, then looked around again. "Can I go find mom?"

"Sure," Jonathan nodded. "Go straight there, okay? You remember where she is?"

"Yea, of course," Will rolled his eyes, smiled at Eddie, and left.

The older boy climbed over his chair to steal Will's seat, then slouched next to Jonathan and glared towards the stage. "Look at them, stupid perfect preppies. How long do you think Steve Harrington spent on his stupid hair?"

Jonathan looked at the collection of teens. Steve was one of three boys that Chrissy, Tammy, and Carol had roped into being the base of their pyramid routine. "I don't know?" He shrugged then looked at Eddie again; the older boy was rubbing at his buzzcut. "You jealous?"

"Of The Hair?" Eddie sat upright. "No. Why would you think that?"

Jonathan shrugged.

"What's there to be jealous of? The girls? Bland," he pulled a face, but looked at the group again. "The hair? So what, I was this close to having the best do, His Majesty Sir Hairs-a-lot could never pull off a 'hawk. The popularity? " He laughed. "Guys like that peak in highschool and grow up yelling at their kids. Who wants that?"

Jonathan rolled his eyes, then lifted his camera and lined up the viewfinder. He clicked the flash as Steve and Tommy H caught Chrissy from a practiced tumble.

"What are you doing?" Eddie asked, voice sticking in his throat.

"Taking a picture," he grabbed the polaroid as it spat out, and pushed it to Eddie’s chest. "It'll last longer."

"Ew, no," Eddie’s nostrils flared as he ripped the photo in two, long before it could develop.

Jonathan laughed.

—

In the summer, before Eddie moved onto highschool, Wayne snuck him and Jonathan into the bar to watch a band visiting from out of town. Not that much sneaking was involved. The manager, Eric, gave them all hard looks as Wayne ordered a round of colas, and then the three of them slipped into a booth in the back.

Eddie and Jonathan hung over the back of the seat, both up on their knees. Eddie was consumed, tapping along with the rock music—"It's alright, wish it was Ozzy"—and bumping shoulders with Jonathan. 

"Half an hour," Wayne said at ten. Eddie stuck his tongue out at him. They left at midnight, after the band had wrapped up and Eddie had dashed forward to talk to the guitarist.

Jonathan went home with a stack of polaroids, less than half of everything he'd photographed over the course of the evening.

—

They saw each other less during the fall, and Jonathan found himself spending more time by himself than his peers. He had his first kiss behind the bleachers with Samatha Stone—who promptly denied it had ever happened—and his first joint out in the junkyard with Eddie after. 

Eddie picked up a job, and started a club, and joined a band. He'd still drop by the school sometimes to walk the Byers home, especially after he got his own bike. The three of them would take turns, switching up who rode double.

Two years passed.

—

The first day of highschool, Jonathan got to homeroom early and first period late. He slid into the science lab as the teacher was finishing up the roll call with "Nancy Wheeler", and took the last seat in the front row.

At lunch, he took his camera, a new Pentax, to the cafeteria.

"Byers!" A familiar voice called out, and then Eddie was standing on a table. He picked his way between trays and books and limbs, ignoring the squawks of their fellow students. His hair had grown out, frizzy curls just covering his ears.

Waving, Jonathan crossed the space with the familiar weight of the school watching.

"What's up?" He greeted, reaching for a high five.

But Eddie grabbed his wrist and dragged him onto the table. "You, Byers!" He cackled, walking backwards. This way, he was less mindful as he stepped onto plates and scattered trays. "How was homeroom? Who're you stuck with?"

Jonathan snapped a couple photos of annoyed students, including the wrinkled face of an unamused Robin Buckley. "Mrs Click."

Eddie flinched as Jonathan took a proper picture of him. "That old hag?"

"She seemed nice."

"Sure, sure, if you butter her up."

"Didn't work for you?"

"There's only so many apples you can bring someone." At the edge of the table, Eddie jumped down and gestured to his friends, lower classmen that Jonathan recognized from his year. "You remember Gareth and Jeff?"

"Yea," Jonathan nodded at them, then crouched to sit on the edge of the table. 

—

He got a job washing dishes at the bar, Eric paying him out under the table. Most of the money he tucked away, but a little bit went towards the electricity bill or the mortgage. He bought Will a new bike, bought himself a second hand tape deck and a junk car. Got in the habit of buying extra groceries to keep the cupboards stocked, and enjoyed a little extra time as Will started spending weekends at the Wheelers.

Fall 1983 crept up on him, and then the world turned Upsidedown.

—

A week after Will was lost, presumed dead, and found again, Eddie pulled up to the Byers house in his beat up van of dubious origins. The front door was open, and Jonathan noticed him as he carried a box of disassembled lamps out onto the porch.

"Dude!" The driver-side door flung open as Eddie cut the ignition. He stepped onto the frame, head poking above the roof. "Where have you been!?"

"Around?" Jonathan managed a smile.

From inside, Joyce called "Who's that?"

"Just Eddie!" Jonathan called back.

"Just Eddie," he parroted, jumping down and rounding the van. "Wayne told me to give you some space, and I covered, like, all of your shifts." He pulled an envelope from his pocket, tossing it to Jonathan when he was close. "And then I tried to find you guys at the funeral. Not-funeral? What are we calling it?"

"A mistake," Jonathan intoned, mentally going over the cover story that had been drilled into his head by the feds. He distracted himself by putting down the box and checking the envelope, thumbing through a week's worth of wages. "Man, you don't have to give me this. You earned it."

"Peanuts," Eddie waved away the concern, then eyed the fresh paint hiding the patched wall. "Weird time to be redecorating."

"Yea, uh—" Jonathan rubbed his neck and avoided eye contact. "My mom had a rough time, you know, during." He waved a hand. "It was a whole thing."

"Gotcha," Eddie nodded.

Joyce appeared at the door, leaning on the frame. "Hey, Eddie. Sticking around for dinner? We're ordering pizza."

"If you don't mind?" Eddie smiled, then pulled a carton of cigarettes from his pocket. "Got you something," and he lobbed them at her.

Joyce fumbled, and had to pick them up from the porch. "You're a bad influence," she teased, already opening the package. "Will's resting, try and keep it down?"

"Course," Eddie's smile faltered. "How's he holding up?"

"Good. He's good," Joyce nodded, but there was a hesitancy in her words. Like she was still convincing herself. "He'll be thrilled to see you, I just want to let him rest."

"Sure thing," and Eddie bounced on his feet, looking between mother and son.

Joyce rolled her eyes and returned inside.

"Come on," Eddie walked backwards to his van, reaching blindly for the backdoor. "I need to know everything about your batshit week, and we definitely need to be stoned for it."

Jonathan tensed, watching as Eddie flung open the doors and turned to dig around for his stash-box. "Why would you think that?"

"Why wouldn't I think that?" Eddie raised his brows at him, then sat on the back bumper and patted the spot next to him. "The whole town has been talking about it. First your brother goes missing, then you run off with Nancy Wheeler for, how long? I'm still unclear on that, but don't even try to deny it I saw you leave the mistake-funeral together!"

"Yeah," Jonathan forced himself to relax and sit beside his friend. "She wanted help with her brother, Mike was upset."

"A reasonable explanation," Eddie nodded, putting a joint between his lips and taking a drag to light it. He took two lungfuls before passing to Jonathan. "Please, enlighten me on the tales of you beating the shit out of Steve Harrington."

Flinching, Jonathan took his toke. "He saw me at Nancy's and got the wrong idea."

Eddie wagged his brows as he took the joint back.

"Stop," Jonathan pushed him. "Nothing happened with Nancy, it was a misunderstanding. And Steve was a jerk about it."

"I'll say," he laughed. "I saw his and Tommy's shitty tags. Taken care of, by the way. Gareth and I painted a sick skull in the alley, and the theatre hired some fancy ass goons to clean up their sign."

"Thanks," Jonathan bumped their shoulders together.

For a while they were quiet, passing the joint back and forth until it burned their fingertips. Then Eddie stubbed it out and lit another.

"I'm good," Jonathan declined, then laid back and closed his eyes. He imagined he could feel the planet rotating beneath them, uncaring of parallel worlds or dimension hopping beasts. "That's it? No more interrogation?"

"So much more, you have no idea," Eddie laughed. "I'm trying to be respectful cause you've definitely had a worse week than me, but, like, I'm having a full on crisis over here."

Frowning, Jonathan looked up at Eddie’s profile. The older teen pulled on his hair; it was the longest it had ever been, brushing his shoulders. "What happened? You okay?"

"Yea, yea, its nothing," Eddie flailed his hand towards Jonathan's house. "Nothing like that."

"Your dad in town?"

"No, I wish. I know how to deal with that."

"Come on, man. Just tell me."

Eddie squirmed, face scrunched, then turned and pulled his legs to cross in front of him. His knees pressed into Jonathan’s sides, two familiar points of pressure. "Did you get a picture?"

He tensed again. "A picture of what?"

"God, you're going to make me say everything aren't you," Eddie laughed, took another long toke, and absently tried to pass the burning joint back to Jonathan.

"I'm good, man. Just spit it out."

"Of Steve," he rushed, then put the joint back between his lips. A splash of red coloured his cheeks.

Jonathan blinked, sitting up. "I mean, probably? I've taken pictures of everyone."

"After, Jonathan!" Eddie hissed, smacking at Jonathan's shoulder. "Like, did you get a picture of his busted face?"

"No?" Jonathan rubbed his thumb against his brow. "My camera's broken."

"What?" Eddie sat straighter. "When did that happen?"

"Beginning of the week," he shrugged, biting back an explanation. "It isn't a big deal, I needed to get a new one anyways."

"That shit's expensive. Man, I'm sorry."

"Not your fault."

"Still."

A beat of silence, another toke. Jonathan reached for the joint and filled his lungs with smoke. "Why'd you want a picture of The Hair?"

"Oh my god," Eddie pressed his hands to his face and leaned back against the side paneling. "It's disgusting, Jonathan. I can't believe myself, I've really sunk to a whole new low."

Jonathan laughed, flicking ash out onto the ground. "Lower than stealing my mom's nail polish?"

"Emphatic yes. I'll throw you the shovel I used and you can bury me alive anytime you want."

"Not a whole lot of explaining going on…"

"It was kind of hot, okay?" Eddie kicked up his feet, pushing his dirty soles against Jonathan's clean jeans. "Fucking prick had the audacity to still look good with a broken nose and black eye. Not fair." His hands still covered his face, but his fingers separated so he could stare at Jonathan.

"What?" Jonathan laughed. "I thought you and Jeff..?"

"Yes, but also no," he flung his hands out to the sides. "This has nothing to do with that, at all."

"But you wanted a picture of Steve Harrington?"

"Look, I've already masturbated an embarrassing number of times about this—"

"I did not need to know that," Jonathan pushed the joint back at him.

"Sorry, sorry," Eddie took a final toke and stubbed it out early. "But it's weird, right? I don’t, like, want to beat him up or anything. Or anyone!"

"It's a little weird," Jonathan confirmed. "Mostly ‘cause it's Steve The Hair Harrington."

"Fuck." Eddie groaned, and banged his head against the side of the van. "I mean, a little pain can be sexy. When everyone is into it."

"Spare me the details," Jonathan stretched to a stand. "I'd like to be able to look our friends in the eye at some point."

"I don't like him or anything," Eddie clarified as he followed Jonathan out of the van and to the porch. "Rich boy isn't even my type. Just, you know, he's objectively hot."

"Now he's an object?"

"A hot object, Jonathan. It burns me."

"Then why did you want a picture?"

"Um, I like a little pain? Obviously?" He gestured back towards the car as they entered the house. "We just went over this."

"But he isn't your type?" 

"Clearly," Eddie rolled his eyes and sighed, as if he was explaining the weather to a toddler. "Need me someone with daddy issues to go with mine." And he wagged his brows at Jonathan.

"I get it now," Jonathan nodded. "Jeff's parents finally got that divorce?"

"Eddie!"

They both turned to see Will, a little pale but still able to rush down the hall and barrel into the older teen.

"Baby Byers!" Eddie scooped him up, squeezing him close and shaking him in the air. "Looking good, little man!"

Laughing, he pressed close even when Eddie put him back down. "What were you guys talking about?"

Jonathan and Eddie shared a look and spoke together. "Nothing."

—

In June, Eddie failed one too many classes. Joyce bought them a six-pack of beer and sent Will over to the Wheelers. Eddie brought his guitar and jumped around the Byers' living room with his amp dialed up to eleven while Jonathan snapped pictures.

He never got around to explaining where his new camera came from.

—

The second time the world went sideways, Eddie didn’t end up coming by at all. It wasn’t until the New Year came and went without incident that anyone noticed. It was Joyce who commented, grabbing Jonathan as he rushed towards the door. Nancy should’ve been in the middle of sneaking out his window, and Jonathan fidgeted under his mother’s hold.

“Hey, sweetie, before you go…”

“Is this important?” Jonathan shook away from her. “I’m going to be late.”

“Well, it’s not not important,” she dithered.

“Mom.”

“I was wondering if you’ve seen Eddie lately?”

Stilling, Jonathan pulled on the straps of his backpack. “Eddie?”

“Yea,” she chewed her lip. “Hopper said he was busted last week, spent the weekend in holding.”

“What?” Jonathan frowned. “Busted for what?”

“Oh, you know,” she shrugged. “Hopper didn’t say, but I know he’s running some of Rick’s drugs around.”

“What?” Jonathan blinked at her, then shook his head and stepped back. “I don’t have time for this, I’m going to be late.”

“Right, of course,” Joyce nodded, following along to the door. “But you’ll check on him? Bring him over for dinner, it’s been awhile. You know I worry.”

Jonathan checked the driveway as he opened the door; but there was no sign of Nancy. “I will. Promise.”

“Thank you, Jonathan.”

She watched him from the door as he rushed to unlock his car. And there was Nancy, folded low on the front seat; she angled her head back to look at him, biting back a smile. “Hey,” she whispered.

“Hey,” he grinned at her, taking his seat and looking back at the house. Joyce waved, and Jonathan started the car. 

Safely away from the lot, Nancy righted herself in the passenger seat. “How was your mom?”

“Fine, great,” he alternated between looking at her and the road. 

“So, our resumes are done,” Nancy jumped straight to business as she clipped in her seatbelt. “Today we need to secure reference letters. You’re sure Principal Murphy will vouch for you?”

“I mean, pretty sure,” he shrugged.

“Good. That’s good.”

They spent the rest of the drive discussing their upcoming applications to the Hawkin’s Post, and other nebulous plans for the future. With twenty minutes to the bell, they pulled in front of the building. Jonathan kept the engine running as Nancy climbed out.

Leaning against the roof, she ducked her head to look at Jonathan. “Coming?”

“Um, yeah, I’ll be there soon,” he nodded at her, frowning. “I just remembered, I gotta go do something?”

“Okay?” She pursed her lips. “Everything okay?”

“Yea, everything’s fine,” he waved her away. “I just gotta go check something. But I’ll see you at lunch?”

“Lunch. Sure.”

He waited until she had entered the building before pulling back onto the street, then broke the speed limit gunning towards Forest Hills Trailer Park. First period started before he got there.

Both Wayne and Eddie’s vehicles were parked next to the rundown trailer. Jonathan opened the door as he cut the ignition, tripping out of his car. And the trailer opened before he even got to the steps.

“Jonathan,” Wayne waved. “Eddie’s in bed.”

“Still?” Jonathan frowned. “Is everything okay?”

Wayne rubbed his head and stepped back to let Jonathan in. “Not sure. Thought he might be depressed? But he won’t talk to me.”

“Right,” he squared his shoulders and marched down the short hall.

He pushed through Eddie’s closed door. It wedged halfway shut, stuck on dirty clothes and empty pizza boxes. Jonathan leveraged himself against the frame, forcing it open to find Eddie face down with his head under his pillows.

“Eddie?”

The older teen groaned.

Jonathan stepped over an open backpack. “Eddie, come on. We’re late for school.”

“‘M not going,” he mumbled.

“What? Yeah you are.” Jonathan dropped to kneel on Eddie’s low mattress, bouncing as he grabbed at Eddie’s pillows. “Come on.” He pushed on Eddie’s shoulders until he rolled onto his side.

“What?” Eddie blinked, his pupils blown wide.

“Are you high?” Jonathan frowned and took a better look around the room. There were empty pill bottles beside the bed, a scummy bong overturned on the dresser, and powder on the windowsill. “Fuck, Eddie.”

“I’m fine,” he pressed his hands over his eyes and flopping onto his back. “What are you doing here, man?”

“What are you doing here?” Jonathan shot back. “You can’t afford to miss class.”

“I can’t—” Eddie scoffed, pushing himself up on his elbows. He squinted at Jonathan. “Can you afford to be so far away from your little girlfriend? Or is Wheeler out there, making us coffee?”

“I already took Nancy to school,” Jonathan gripped at the sheets. “What’s she got to do with this?”

“I don’t know, Jonathan. What does she have to do with this?”

“Stop being weird, let’s go.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Eddie raised his voice. “Did you forget who I am? Eddie The Freak Munson. Being weird is kind of my whole deal!”

“It’s not,” Jonathan glared at him. “Come on, man. What’s this really about?”

“There’s no point, Jonathan!” Eddie groaned again, falling in between his pillows and staring up at the ceiling. “I’m just going to fail! Again.” His new position pulled up the hem of his shirt, revealing the red rimmed lines of a fresh tattoo beside a handful of bruises.

“What’s this?” Jonathan poked at Eddie’s side.

“Nothing.” Eddie pulled the shirt down. But that just tugged his collar lower, showing off ugly green blemishes ringing his neck.

“Jesus, Eddie.” Jonathan looked around the room again, picking out the other signs of neglect. “What’s going on? What happened?”

“Nothing!” Eddie repeated. “Just, go back to your girlfriend.”

“I get it, I’ve been spending a lot of time with Nancy,” Jonathan sighed. “I’m sorry. Leave her out of this.”

Flailing, Eddie screamed. 

“Woah, woah,” Jonathan leaned out of the line of fire. “It’s okay, you’re okay. We’re okay.”

“Am I?” Eddie groaned. “I feel like a fuck up, man.”

Lifting his hand, Jonathan chewed on his thumbnail. “We all fuck up sometimes.”

“Right.” A hollow laugh.

“Is this—” Jonathan hesitated, started over. “I heard you got busted.”

Another groan. “Fuck man. Isn’t that, like, classified information?”

“Yeah, well. Hopper told my mom.”

“Joyce knows?” He rolled away, pulling the pillows back over his head.

“Yea,” Jonathan leaned back on his hands and stared at the posters on the wall. “Since when have you been running drugs for Reefer Rick?”

“Um, since always?” Eddie waved an arm beneath them without moving from the windows. “Where did you think I got all my stuff from?”

“I don’t know. Your dad?”

“Fuck that guy,” Eddie laughed.

Smiling, Jonathan laid beside him and stared up at the ceiling. “I am sorry. For not being around.”

Eddie flopped back, their shoulders layering together. “It’s okay. You’re allowed to have a girlfriend, Byers. I’m just jealous that she’s prettier than me.”

“Don’t be like that,” Jonathan elbowed him. “I’m not dating Nancy just ‘cause she’s pretty.”

“Right.”

“She’s also, like, super smart. And a total badass.”

Baring his teeth in a grimace, Eddie turned his head to look at Jonathan. “Are we talking about the same Nancy Drew?”

The past year flashed through Jonathan’s mind. Matching scars on their hands, molotov cocktails and bear traps, fighting monsters. “You should see her shoot.”

“Right, sure,” Eddie rolled his eyes.

Jonathan smiled, but pressed his lips together. “Look, maybe you should stop dealing drugs?”

“It wasn’t drugs,” Eddie rubbed at his face, then cast his arms to either side. His left hand hit the wall, his right landing on the other side of Jonathan’s shoulders. “I mean, I definitely had drugs. Was totally selling; gotta pay for gas and records somehow.” Eddie bent his arm and dug his elbow into Jonathan’s solar plexus. “But… you know…” He twirled his raised hand.

“But what?” Jonathan pushed his arm away. 

Eddie popped his lips apart, playing with the sound. “You kiss the wrong dude, and suddenly it’s assault.”

“What?” Jonathan twisted up, propping himself on his elbow to try and catch Eddie’s eye. “Is that what—” he gestured at his own neck, bare beneath the polo shirt Nancy had dressed him in.

Snorting, Eddie rolled his head back to stare at the pictures he’d pinned above his bed. Mostly band photos taken by Jonathan over the years, but there was a nice one of Eddie and Wayne slouched together on the couch from the first day he moved in. “I don’t wanna make a whole thing about it.”

Fists clenched with nails biting into palms, Jonathan nodded. “Okay. Sure.” He laid back down. “My mom wants you to come over for dinner.”

Sniffling, Eddie rubbed at his eyes. “That’d be nice, dude. Not today thou.”

“Not today,” Jonathan agreed. “But soon?”

“Soon.”

“She’s gonna be pissed you didn’t go to school.”

“You gonna rat on me, Byers?”

“Dude, I bet she already knows. She told me about Rick.”

—

Nancy and Jonathan got their internships. Eddie flunked another year. Life continued.

—

“You have to come,” Mike insisted to them both.

“We don’t have to go anywhere,” Nancy stared down at her brother. They were half gathered in the Wheeler’s entrance way, Jonathan and Will slowly getting their shoes together by the door. Nancy stood halfway up the stairs, one hand pressed casually over the mark Jonathan had left a little too high on her collar.

“Please?” Mike begged. “You won’t regret it.”

“It is pretty funny,” Will confirmed.

Mike turned to talk to Jonathan, a smile cracking open his face and mischief in his eye. “You have your camera, right?” He looked back up at his sister. “You could put it in the paper.”

“That’s not how my job works, Mike,” Nancy snapped.

“Who cares!” Mike bounced, throwing up his arms. “Come on, Nance! It’ll be fun. You guys can, like, go on a date or something.” His expression dropped as he glanced back at Jonathan. “What do you guys even do?”

“None of your business, Mike!”

Jonathan laughed, leaning against the door. “Come on, Nance. Even Will says it’ll be funny. What could it hurt?”

“And!” Mike added, pointing at his sister. “I can get you guys into the movies for free.”

“Free?” Nancy frowned at him.

—

Which was how the four of them ended up piling into Jonathan’s car and driving to the newly opened Starcourt Mall. Jonathan bit his tongue the entire ride as Mike leaned over the seat to fight with Nancy over the radio controls. The parking lot was busy, and extra stressful with both Will and Mike yelling contradictory directions. But eventually they all entered Starcourt together, Will and Mike leading the way.

As they were passing the fountain by the escalators, Max and Lucas joined their party. They barely slowed down, Max inserting herself between Will and Mike as Lucas walked backwards to point at Jonathan. "You brought your camera?"

"Yes," Jonathan held up the device, strap going slack around his neck. "Are any of you going to tell us what this is about?"

"Just wait," Lucas insisted, then turned to drape forwards over Max's shoulders.

Nancy was doing a bad job hiding her smile. Jonathan leaned in to mumble in her ear: "mysterious."

The kids brought them to Scoops Ahoy.

"Seriously, Mike?" Nancy scoffed.

But Mike stood his ground. "Trust me."

With seemingly misplaced confidence, the four almost-highschoolers made their way to the counter. They ignored an exasperated Robin Buckley to rapidly ring the bell; but the older band student just rolled her eyes and continued carefully lettering something onto a whiteboard.

"Mike," Nancy sighed. "If you dragged us all the way here just to be a little shit and mooch—"

Then the staff door opened, and Steve Harrington walked out in blue short shorts and a sailor hat.

For a moment, Steve just glared at them. One hand on the door and the other touched loosely at the ice-cream scoop holster at his hip, he was an unsalvageable mess. His lips pulled back over his teeth, eyes narrowed as he turned his attention to an amused Robin.

Jonathan took a photo.

"I got it," Steve snapped at his co-worker. "Thanks."

"Anytime," Robin sent him a pained smile.

"Oh my god," Nancy wrapped one hand around Jonathan’s elbow, pressed the other over her mouth as she stared at her ex-boyfriend.

His camera flashed again.

"Really, Jonathan?" Steve groaned.

"You were right, Mike," Jonathan laughed. "This is hilarious."

Robin stood up from the counter. "So you do know people your own age," she shot at Steve. Then she put aside her whiteboard to point at Jonathan. "I still haven’t forgiven you for waltzing over my lunch the first day of highschool."

"Sorry?" Jonathan blinked at her. He had a vague recollection of that day; mostly of Eddie announcing him to the whole cafeteria and making a spectacle.

"So?" Mike stared at Steve.

Steve glared back. 

"I'm not even sure what I'm looking at," Nancy said, breathless. "Steve!"

The other teen flinched, but kept up his staring contest with Mike as he flung his arms into a dramatic arch. "Why are you dragging them into this? Haven't you ruined my reputation enough?"

"What reputation?" Max quipped. 

"Shut up, Max."

Mike jumped back into the conversation.  "Are you going to do it or not?"

"Yea, yea," Steve looked around the crowded storefront, then held open the door and waved them all into the back room.

Nancy bit her lips together as she passed, her eyes bugging out. Jonathan held up his camera to get a headshot framed against the circular window, and Steve managed a sarcastic smile.

"Beautiful," Jonathan teased him. 

"Shut up, Byers," he looked around the store again before shepherding them further back. "I didn't buy you a camera just so you could blackmail me."

"What's happening?" Nancy wheezed, pressing her second hand to her cheek in a continued attempt to stop the snickers shaking her shoulders. 

"Please forget this ever happened," Steve begged, pushing the kids aside with careful swipes at their heads. He opened the backdoor to the service hall. "Please."

—

A week later, he found Eddie and the rest of Corroded Coffin practicing in Gareth's garage. He rolled up in the middle of a set practice. They acknowledged him with a nod, but continued bouncing around each other as they finished off the song. Used to their routine, Jonathan took a couple of candids as he waited, perched on the hood of his car. Eddie and Jeff traded off solos as Gareth droned into an unplugged mic. They finished to Jonathan’s applause, all four taking deep bows.

Then Eddie strode forward, twisting as if he were addressing a crowd. "Thank you, Hawkins! You've been the best audience!"

"High praise," Jonathan grinned.

"Only kind I know," Eddie wagged his brows. "To what do I owe this unprecedented pleasure? Wheeler lose your leash?"

"I got something for you," Jonathan pulled an envelope from his back pocket.

"Oooo, gimme," Eddie reached for it.

But Jonathan held it away. "There's a catch."

"Of course there's a catch."

"You gotta go back and finish school."

Eddie groaned, moving to sit against the hood with Jonathan. "Don't be like that, man! I already promised Wayne and Joyce that I'd do it."

"Good, perfect. It'll be easy to earn it."

"It's one class!"

"Yep."

Eddie glared.

Laughing, Jonathan handed over the envelope. "There's more where that came from," he fibbed. A little white lie to last the school year. He was confident he'd have more opportunities for photos, and sure there was something on one of the hundreds of rolls of undeveloped film in the box in his closet.

Pulling out the photo of Steve Harrington—the sarcastic headshot—Eddie gasped. "No way."

Jonathan snickered.

"How did you—" Eddie’s expression shifted, landing on nothing as his lips and brows twitched. "This is not Steve The Hair Harrington."

"The hat kinda ruins his whole deal."

"He looks like a dweeb!" Eddie pressed his fingernails to his lips, enraptured. 

"It's worse in person," Jonathan insisted.

"I'll bet," Eddie choked, lowering the photo to stare wide eyed at Jonathan. "And you have more?"

"A couple," Jonathan shrugged. "But don't go showing them around, he'll kill me."

"Please," Eddie rolled his eyes. "You can take him."

"Well, yea," Jonathan knocked against his shoulder. "But I don’t wanna feed into the whole—" he pantomimed punching his own eye, pretending to knock backwards over the hood of the car in a toned down version of Eddie's usual theatrics. "—thing."

"That was one time."

"Are you forgetting Billy?"

And Eddie flinched away, photo wrinkling in his fist as his freehand flew up to his neck. His face paled, and his voice wavered too high. "Billy?"

Frowning, Jonathan turned to face his friend properly. "Billy Hargrove? They got in a fight last November. Split his lip, Steve had to get stitches?" 

"That was Billy?" Eddie's eyes stretched impossibly wider. "What—" he broke into a laugh and pulled on his curls. "Why were they fighting? Another, um—" his nose wrinkled. "Domestic?"

"No? Uh," Jonathan panicked, trying to remember all the details. "Something about his sister?"

"Harrington has a sister?"

"No, Billy's sister, Max," Jonathan sighed. "He was babysitting or something? And Billy came 'round looking for her, got the wrong impression."

"Wait, wait, wait," Eddie waved both his hands between them. "Are you telling me that Steve The Hair Harrington was babysitting?"

"Yea."

"Oh my god," and he looked again at the dweeby photo. "Soft boy Harrington, who knew?"

"Everyone?" Jonathan shrugged. "He dropped, like, all his old friends back when he dated Nance."

"That is pretty soft," Eddie pulled a face, then shoved the photo back at Jonathan. "If you're gonna try to bribe me with a photo, you could at least try to make it a good one. What am I supposed to do, jack off thinking about ice-cream?"

"Your words, not mine," Jonathan smoothed the picture out across his knee, then slipped it back into his pocket. "Man, is this going to be a thing now?"

"A thing? What thing?"

"A Steve Harrington thing."

Blushing, Eddie sputtered out a laugh. "If it is, it's entirely your fault."

—

The day after the Starcourt Mall fire, Eddie peeled into the Byer’s driveway honking his horn. From his place sprawled across the couch, head in Nancy’s lap and an icepack on his head, Jonathan groaned.

“Want me to get it?” Nancy asked.

“No, it’s alright,” Jonathan dragged himself upright.

Before he could stand, the door opened and Eddie slid in. “Dude! Did you see—” he froze when he noticed them, Nancy with her hand on Jonathan’s shoulder. “Shit, sorry. Am I interrupting?”

“It’s fine, Eddie,” Jonathan stood, tossing the ice pack onto the cushions. “What’s up?”

“What happened to your face?” Eddie tilted his head and bit his lip as he studied the bruise still blooming over the bridge of Jonathan’s nose. “Not gonna lie, Byers. It’s kind of doing it for me.”

Jonathan rolled his eyes. “Keep it in your pants.”

“I’m going to go,” Nancy stood up and moved over to Jonathan. She gripped his shirt as she leaned in to kiss his cheek.

“Do you need a ride?” Jonathan leaned his forehead against her’s.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Take my car.”

“Don’t you need it?”

“Nah, nothing for me to do in town.”

“You sure?”

“Yea. Just bring it back tomorrow?”

Eddie whistled, and the couple leaned apart. “You lovebirds are cute.”

Nancy took a turn rolling her eyes. She grabbed Jonathan’s keys and gave him another kiss, then took a wide path around Eddie and out the door. Jonathan and Eddie both followed her out, both waved on the porch as she got into his car and drove away.

Eddie waited until the tail lights disappeared before turning back to Jonathan. “Okay, you gotta tell me. Was it you?”

“Was what me?” Jonathan tensed, disguising the movement by moving back inside. 

“Don’t do this to me, Jonathan!” Eddie groaned, following along. He pulled his cigarettes from his pocket, fishing one out to put between his lips. “What, I’m supposed to believe it’s just a coincidence that you and Harrington both have bloody noses?”

“You saw Steve?” he continued to the kitchen, pulling open the fridge and staring inside for a lack of anything better.

“For like, two seconds at the gas station,” Eddie sighed and draped himself against the counter. “He was flipping his hair back for the lady behind the counter, being all—” he lowered his voice in a bad impression, “you should’ve seen the other guy.” Snorting, he looked back up at Jonathan. “But if you’re the other guy, then I’m seriously not impressed.”

“This wasn’t Steve,” Jonathan mumbled and grabbed a pitcher of juice.

“Then what was it?”

Jonathan rubbed his thumb across his brow. “I—uh—I think he got caught in the commotion, after the fire? I’m not sure.”

“Dude, not The Hair,” Eddie laughed and hoisted himself to sit next to the sink. “What happened with you?”

He grit his teeth, closed the fridge, and moved to grab glasses from the cupboard. “I slipped.”

“Slipped?” Eddie scoffed. 

“Yea, I was—” he grimaced through the lie. “Um, taking Nancy to see her Nana at the hospital. Slipped in the stairwell.”

A strained silence stretched between them as Jonathan poured two glasses of lemonade. He left one on the counter next to Eddie, then moved to put bread in the toaster. 

“Sooo…” Eddie drew out the syllable. “Nothing to be worried about?”

“Nothing to be worried about.” Jonathan promised. Then winced again. “But there is something I should tell you…”

—

California was hot, dry, and lonely.

On their first day at Lenora Hill High, Jonathan, Will, and Elle shuffled as a unit towards their respective classes. Jonathan walked them all the way to their homeroom, watching as they took adjoining seats before searching out his class.

At lunch he walked the perimeter of the football field, just wanting time and space for thoughts to form. Which is how he stumbled across the familiar stank of weed. He followed it to the parking lot behind the bleachers, watched two glassy eyed teens stumble away from a Pizza van.

The back doors were open, where a guy with long black hair sat rolling joints. When he noticed Jonathan, he grinned and nodded. “Hey man. What can I get for you?”

“Um,” Jonathan frowned, rubbing his neck and looking back towards the school. “Nothing, really.”

“That’s cool, man. Whatever floats your boat.”

“Yea, cool.” Jonathan bit his lip. 

The other teen licked the edge of the rolling paper, twisted the joint shut. “You’re the new kid, right? I’m Argyle.”

“Jonathan,” he managed a wave. “My friend was the dealer, back in Hawkins.”

“Is that right?” Argyle raised his brows, then gestured Jonathan closer. “Bet you miss him. Come tell me all about it.”

—

On Fridays, he had a standing phone date with Nancy. Saturdays through Thursdays he delivered pizzas with Argyle. Sometimes he got a postcard from Hawkins, a line or two from Eddie scrawled on a wrinkled picture. Sometimes he sent one back.

—

After the excitement of the Road-trip to Save the World, the drive back to Hawkins was long. The reunion was sweet, and Jonathan kept Nancy tucked under his chin as Mrs Wheeler returned inside to continue sorting boxes for donation. Steve and Robin whispered together as Argyle approached them to introduce himself. 

“Hey, um,” Dustin cleared his throat. He drew everyone’s attention though he only spoke to Mike, Will, and Elle. “We’ve, uh, got something to show you?”

“Right,” Nancy squeezed Jonathan closer, but sidestepped to fit under the curve of his arm. “You’re going to want to see this.”

“Oh yea?” Jonathan rubbed her shoulder.

They followed the kids inside, Steve and Robin waiting to trail behind Nancy and Jonathan. Argyle glommed between them, dropping an arm across both their shoulders and leaning to talk to them. “What do you think the surprise is?”

“Um?” Nancy frowned up at him.

“Nance, this is Argyle,” Jonathan explained. “He’s bad with boundaries, but he’s been a good friend.”

“Awe, thanks, Jonathan,” Argyle pulled them both closer, then stepped back. “And message received, loud and clear.”

Ahead of them, Dustin unlocked the basement entrance.

“Why do you have the key to my basement?” Mike asked.

“Nancy gave it to me,” said Dustin. “Now, it’s a long story but Mike, you already know half of it so just shut up and stand back. Okay?”

“Okay, sheesh,” Mike raised his hands and let Will and Dustin pass through first.

“Don’t freak out,” said Nancy. “My mom doesn’t know he’s down there, and we can’t let anyone find him."

“Find who?” asked Jonathan.

Downstairs, Will laughed. “Eddie!”

Jonathan frowned at her, and let her go to push past Mike and Elle. He took the stairs two at a time.

“Baby Byers!” Eddie scooped Will into a crushing hug, lifting the younger teen clear off the floor and spinning him around. “How’s California been treating you? Catch any waves?”

Dustin stared at the spectacle, frowning. “How do you know Eddie?”

And Mike shook his head, smiling. “Why are you hiding in my basement?”

“Eddie?” Jonathan jumped the final two steps. “What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

“Oh my god, Jonathan,” Eddie laughed, tipping his whole body back and shaking out his curls. “This has been the most batshit insane week of my life.”

“Oh?” Will, still tucked into his side, grinned. 

“You aren’t off the hook either, Baby Byers,” Eddie rubbed his knuckles into Will’s hair. “Apparently, you’ve all been dealing with this Upsidedown shit for years ?”

“You know about the Upsidedown?” Jonathan blinked.

Robin and Nancy descended next, with Steve and Argyle close behind. “A lot has happened,” said Nancy.

“Eddie’s wanted for murder,” Robin added.

“Murder?” Jonathan looked back at Nancy, who nodded, then frowned at Eddie, who shrugged. 

“It was Vecna,” said Robin.

“Who’s Vecna?” Jonathan rubbed his brow.

“Wait, hold up,” Dustin stepped between everyone, looking first at Eddie and Will and then at Jonathan and the other older teens. “How the hell do you guys know each other?”

“Relax, Henderson!” Eddie let go of Will to flop backwards onto the couch. “We’re long standing members of the Deadbeat Dad Club, no biggie.”

“Deadbeat?” Elle blinked.

Eddie winked at her.

Steve scoffed, moving to lean against the support post where the telephone was hung. “I guess our invitations got lost in the mail?”

Eddie tensed and stared at him. He whispered, “shit.”

Argyle raised his hand. “Can I get an invitation?”

Jonathan bit his lips together, took two steps to fall into place beside Eddie, and raised a brow at Steve. “You’ve got daddy issues, Harrington?”

Robin frowned, looking between the older boys. Nancy and the younger teens shared confused looks.

Steve shrugged. “He’s a fucking asshole. Yea, I got some issues.”

Eddie cleared his throat. “What, rich boy didn’t get enough hugs growing up?”

“You know,” Steve wavered his head side to side. His collar shifted, and a bright red abrasion peaked past the fabric. “Probably not? Henderson gets lots of hugs, he turned out alright.”

Dustin grinned, colour rising in his cheeks.

Eddie sunk a little lower on the couch and hissed. “Shit.”

“How ‘bout,” Nancy rocked forward, turning to look at the younger teens. “We let the original Deadbeat club catch up a little?”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “Grab your shit, I’ll drive you monsters to the hospital to see Max and Lucas.”

Dustin, Mike, and Elle ventured upstairs with minor complaints, but Will took the middle spot between Eddie and Jonathan on the couch. 

“Well, this has been nice,” Robin took a step back. “But—”

“Woah, woah, woah!” Eddie pointed at her, then turned to look at Jonathan. “Before it becomes a whole—” he waved his hand at the four still standing, Steve, Argyle, Nancy, and Robin. Though Argyle’s inclusion was incidental. “—terrible, terrible thing. I want to say I’m sorry, and it’s all Robin’s fault.”

“What?” Robin raised her hands. “What the hell are you talking about, Munson?”

Steve and Nancy both flinched, turning away from each other even though there were several steps between them.

“Yikes,” Argyle pulled a joint from his pocket. “I’m sensing some tension. May I suggest Purple Palm Tree Delight?”

“Hell yea, man," Eddie grinned. 

“Answer the question,” Robin pointed at him.

Eddie rolled his eyes, and angled himself to give Will more space and face Jonathan a little better. “I never would’ve jumped the bandwagon, but Robin was pretty sure Nancy was still in love with Steve.”

Simultaneously, Steve and Nancy shouted. “We’re not—!” and their yells turned unintelligible as they repeated a dozen arguments they had told people over the course of the week.

“And,” Eddie continued at a lower volume. “It was for my own emotional sanity.”

“Really?” Jonathan shook his head.

“You don’t understand,” Eddie leaned over Will to push at Jonathan’s shoulder. “He basically stripped naked and jumped into the lake.”

“What?” Will blushed.

Jonathan laughed.

The sound caused Nancy and Steve both to pause. Argyle quietly took a seat on the plush chair, lighting his joint.

“Then he was dragged under,” Eddie continued, pointing at Nancy then Robin. “And those two just, like, jumped in after him? I had no choice but to follow. The authorities were surrounding us, and they had guns, and they were serious about using them." He shuddered. "So serious, man, it wasn’t funny.”

Eddie paused as Argyle passed him the joint.

“What was in the lake?” Argyle asked.

“A gate,” Robin, Steve, and Nancy said together.

Eddie exhaled and offered the joint to Will; but Jonathan took it instead. “So obviously I followed them. And like, immediately we had to fight these crazy ass tentacle bats. They were,” he pantomimed being strangled, pretending to convulse. “Totally trying to eat Harrington alive. But he, like, bit one.” And he sighed, leaning back on the couch.

Jonathan took a toke and held the joint out for anyone standing to take. 

Nancy propped her fists on her hips. “How does that have anything to do with you guys trying to push me and Steve together?”

Steve stepped forwards and took the joint.

“In my defense,” Robin pointed at herself. “You two have crazy chemistry.”

Jonathan ignored them. “How banged up did he get?”

“So much,” Eddie flung an arm across the back of the couch and stared up at the ceiling. “They tried to eat his guts.”

Steve flinched as he exhaled, coughing. 

“Easy, man,” Argyle snickered, reaching out.

But Robin inserted herself in the circle. “I still don’t get why you’re throwing me under the bus.”

“Because!” Eddie raised his head to stare at her. “You started it!”

“It’s fine,” Jonathan rolled his eyes, but looked at Nancy and Steve. “You aren’t, right? Still in love with each other?”

“No!” They said together.

Robin coughed out a lungful of smoke and finally passed back to Argyle. “Bullshit.”

Steve shook his head. “This is what I have to deal with.”

“See?” Jonathan gestured at them. “Not in love with each other, no big deal.”

“But!” Robin wheezed. “The chemistry!”

Nancy bit her lip, and came to perch on the armrest next to Jonathan. She put her feet in his lap, and he wrapped his arms around her legs. “It’s really not a big deal?”

“Of course,” Jonathan rubbed her calves. “I trust you. And, I’ve been told that Steve is objectively hot—” Eddie sputtered, “—so I guess I understand why a little chemistry might have happened. You used to date.”

Nancy grinned, shrugging.

“Thanks, man,” Steve sighed. “That’s pretty cool of you.”

Argyle took another inhale, then gave the joint to Eddie to finish. 

Grinning, Jonathan looked up at Steve. “You gonna show off your scars?” Eddie smacked his shoulder.

“They’ve barely begun healing, Byers,” Steve crossed his arms. “Who’s been telling you I’m hot? We’re your only friends.”

“Stop honking your own horn, Harrington,” Eddie complained.

“It’s not exactly a unique opinion,” Robin agreed. “It is why Keith agreed to hire you.”

Steve made a vague sound of agreement.

Nancy leaned to kiss the top of Jonathan’s head. “I’m going to go find some air freshener. Do you need anything?”

“I’m good,” he pressed a kiss into her arm. 

“Gag,” Eddie groaned. “The rest of you, shoo as well! We said original Deadbeats, only.”

“And Argyle,” said Will.

“And Argyle,” Eddie agreed.

The trio grumbled final goodbyes as they climbed back up the stairs. The remaining four were quiet. Sinking back into the couch, Will looked between the stoned teens.

Argyle broke the silence. “You’re really living up to the stories, Munson.”

“Yea?” Eddie grinned, wagging his brows at Will and Jonathan before turning to Argyle. “All lies and slander.”

“Really?” Argyle tipped his head back, craning back and forth as he scrutinized Eddie. “Curly Qs, check. Big personality, double check. Total teddy bear, check.”

“Oh,” Eddie paused, smile dropping to something more sincere. 

“I don’t see a guitar though…”

—

Last minute, Will decided to go with the others to the hospital. Steve took Robin, the kids, and the donations while Jonathan and Eddie pressed their backs against the armrests of the basement couch. Nancy sat in Jonathan’s lap, and Argyle lit another smoke.

“For the record,” Eddie tapped Nancy’s shoulder while he spoke to Jonathan. “I take back everything bad I ever said about Wheeler. You were right, she’s a total badass.”

“Thanks,” she straightened her back, legs shifting in Jonathan’s lap. “I forgive you.”

“Yeah, well,” Jonathan shrugged, winding an arm around her waist to rub a circle into her hip. “To be fair, I couldn’t tell you all the badass things she’s done.”

“Ooo,” Eddie rubbed his hands together.

Argyle exhaled and passed him the smoke. “Sounds like Storytime, my dudes.”

"Spill the details, Byers," Eddie demanded. He took two lungfuls of smoke, then held the joint out to Jonathan. Nancy intercepted it with a considering frown. "Start at the beginning."

"Well…" Jonathan watched as Nancy held the joint to her lips and tried a cautious inhale. Then he rubbed her back as she choked and coughed. "Will didn't actually go missing in the woods. That was the Upsidedown."

"Fuck," Eddie bared his teeth, then leaned backwards behind the couch to fish for something. He resurfaced with a mostly empty glass, the dregs of lemonade sloshing as he held it out for Nancy to take. "Wait. Your fight with The Hair?"

Pushing off his hat, Argyle blinked. "What heir?"

"That was real," Jonathan took the joint from Nancy. "He saw us at Nancy's and got the wrong idea."

"We—" Nancy coughed again, making a face as she drained the last of the juice to sooth her burning throat. "We went searching for Barb."

Another exhale, and the joint was returned to Argyle. "That was the first time we saw a demogorgon."

"First time you saw a demogorgon," Nancy corrected. She rolled the empty cup between her hands.

Eddie tugged on his hair, pulled a handful of locks to cover his expression.

Jonathan pressed a foot against the juncture where Eddie’s ankles crossed. "If it helps, it was Steve who broke my camera."

Twisting toward him, Nancy frowned. "How does that help?"

"Dude, I get it," Argyle laughed. "Hair. Harrington."

It was Eddie’s turn again, and he took his time tailoring the joint between inhales and exhales. He offered the smoke to Nancy, but she shook her head, so Jonathan accepted it.

"What about—" Eddie bit his lip.

"Billy?" Jonathan guessed.

Eddie nodded.

"Steve was babysitting," Jonathan confirmed. "Dustin and Lucas dragged Max into a hunt for demogorgons, Billy came looking for her, Steve tried to run interference I guess. Lucas said he broke a plate over Steve's head."

"Shit," Eddie crossed his arms, fingers digging into leather.

Jonathan waved the joint at Argyle, pointing for him to crush it out as he frowned at his friend. "You okay?"

"These are the least important parts of the story," Nancy complained. "What about Elle? What about Hawkins Lab? What about Murray?"

Argyle perked. "The risotto dude?"

"The risotto dude," Jonathan confirmed.

"The little monsters already told me all about Supergirl escaping the Hell Lab," Eddie waved off the questions with a modicum of his usual theatrics. 

Jonathan stared.

Eddie squirmed, hand raising to touch the phantom of bruises around his neck. "Billy was the reason I was arrested last year."

"Shit," Jonathan reached out along the back of the couch, fingertips brushing Eddie’s shoulder. "Billy, really?"

"What?" Nancy blinked.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"He's not—" Jonathan glanced at Nancy, then Argyle, then scrunched his nose at Eddie. "You know…"

"My usual type?" Eddie offered.

Nancy stared, her brows drawing together like they always did when she was fitting together pieces of a puzzle.

Jonathan nodded.

"Sometimes you just take what you can get, Byers. What about your black eye after the Starcourt Mall? I know you didn't slip visiting Nana Wheeler at the hospital."

"Flesh monster," Jonathan relaxed against the armrest. "It was at the hospital, though."

"Fucking, what?" Eddie blinked.

Argyle shook his head. "Dude."

"So, what, you and the whole Scooby gang pile over to Hawkins Hospital and—"

"Not all of us," Nancy corrected. Her eyes stayed sharp, laser focused on Eddie. "The Scoop Suits were at the mall."

"Scoop Suits?" Eddie rubbed at the confused line of his brow, looking between Jonathan and Nancy. "Then how did—"

Jonathan and Nancy spoke together: "Russians."

"You guys are on a whole other level now." Argyle sat back. "The commies?"

"Wait," Nancy twisted in Jonathan's lap, pressing her back against his chest as she turned to point at Eddie. "What is this really about?"

"Uh—" Eddie put on an exasperated front. "Catching up on all the lies my friend told me over the years?"

"I couldn't tell you," Jonathan sighed. "It was dangerous, and I didn't think you'd believe me."

But Nancy was undeterred. "Lies about Steve Harrington?"

Eddie flinched and ignored her. "And Robin fits into all this—"

"They worked at Scoops Ahoy together," Jonathan tried to control his expression, but a smile crept across his face. "She helped Steve and Dustin infiltrate the Russian Base below Starcourt Mall."

Eddie pressed his fingernails to his lips.

Snapping her fingers, Nancy pointed at him. "You like—"

"Ah ah ah!" Eddie flailed forward, covering her mouth with both his hands to stop her completing her sentence. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Jonathan just laughed.

—

Property prices plummeted. Argyle returned to California.

When Joyce and Hopper came back, they were settled into matching houses, partially furnished, at opposite ends of an otherwise empty cul-de-sac. Someone was hired to pack up their house back in Lenora Hills, and the two families began the process of restarting their lives. In the meantime, they made due with borrowed clothes and gifted casseroles.

—

The first night in the new house, Steve, Robin, and Nancy showed up in his BMW. He honked the horn as he backed towards the car park.

Joyce followed Jonathan out into the driveway, hanging back a couple steps.

“Special delivery,” Steve announced as he stepped out of the car.

“More clothes?” Jonathan asked, looking at Nancy.

“Not exactly,” Robin smiled, following Nancy around the vehicle.

Steve moved to the back of the car, tapping twice before opening the truck. And there, folded into the small space, was Eddie and his guitar.

Joyce gasped. “Steve Harrington!”

Steve flinched, turning to Joyce as Eddie sat up.

“Did you really just—” she flailed her hands. “—stuff him in your trunk?”

“I had to?” Steve said slowly, frowning. He looked back at Eddie, then over to Nancy and Robin. “She knows, right?”

“Eddie, sweetie, get out of there,” Joyce pushed forwards and offered her hands.

“Thanks, Joyce,” Eddie smiled, handing her his guitar and stretching his legs towards the pavement.

She pushed the guitar at Steve and pulled Eddie into a hug. “Are you okay?”

Chuckling, he leaned over her little form to press his cheek against her head. "'M fine. Wanted for murder."

"What?" She pulled away, holding him at arm's length. "Is this what the kids were talking about?"

"Probably?" Eddie shrugged. "I'm sorry, I don't think I'll finish school."

"Bullshit," and Joyce stepped away, determination painted over her features. "That's not—" she huffed, then looked at Jonathan. "I'll be right back, I just need to go talk to Hopper." Then she squinted at Eddie. "Does Wayne know you're here?"

Eddie shrugged again.

Rubbing his neck, Steve had an answer. "He thinks Eddie is dead? We thought it might be easier."

"Easier?" Joyce scoffed at him, shaking her head as she stormed down the driveway and across the street.

"Well, that was fun," Robin rounded them forwards, pushing Eddie towards the door. "Let's not loiter around with public enemy numeral Uno, yes? We brought movies."

Which was how the five older teens proceeded to set themselves up in the bare basement. A couple of folding lounge chairs were arranged up with mismatched cushions, blankets were spread over the carpet, and snacks were produced from upstairs. Steve and Robin brought an old TV and VCR out of the backseat of the BMW and hooked them up on a couple of crates still housing old records.

Eddie stretched out on one of the loungers with his electric guitar, plucking the strings without any volume as Jonathan and Nancy took over the other. 

"I see how it is," Steve complained, pressing play on Footloose before claiming a spot next to Robin on the blanket. "We do all the work, you guys get the good seats."

"Should've thought of that earlier, Harrington," Eddie stuck his tongue out, and Steve threw popcorn at him.

—

Hours later, when the darkness of evening had long since settled over the house and the fifth movie—The Black Cauldron—was just starting the credits, the door to the basement opened. Light cut across the wall, a shadow flailing in the doorway for a moment. Then the light-switch was flicked on, and the lounging teens groaned.

"You all still here?" Joyce called as she descended. A second figured joined her on the stairs.

"Yea, mom," Jonathan rasped, voice harsh from the doze he'd fallen into.

"Hi, Joyce," Eddie chimed in, sitting forwards to straddle his seat. He kept rattling on, even though she hadn't fully entered their makeshift den. "D'you think I could bum a cigarette? It's been days, my hands are shaking."

"Eddie?" The second figure questioned.

Eddie stilled, and the other four teens twisted to get a better look as Wayne Munson followed Joyce down the steps. The older man stopped at the foot of the stairs, tears coming to his eyes as he pressed a hand to his mouth.

Abandoning his guitar on the chair, Eddie swung up to a stand. Wayne met him in the middle, and they wrapped themselves up in each other.

"You should've come to me," Wayne cried.

"Sorry," Eddie mumbled. "It was all fucked up, I didn't know what to do—"

"You come to me."

Joyce smiled and made eye contact with Jonathan and the others. Robin scrambled on her knees to pause the tape, setting it to rewind by habit. The Munson men sniffled and whispered to each other for another minute.

"One more thing," Joyce interrupted them gently. "Then I'll head back upstairs." And she held out a manila envelop for Eddie.

Wayne grinned as he pulled away, nodding for Eddie to take it.

"What is it?" Eddie asked.

"Just look."

He did, pulling out a freshly printed diploma. "What?" He gasped, then laughed. "What the fuck, Joyce?"

"Language," Wayne scolded him, smiling.

"I may have pulled a few strings," Joyce replied with a shrug. "What's the point of the government owing you favours if you never cash them in?"

"What?" He repeated, laughing.

"Fuck," Jonathan groaned. "Does that mean I have to give you that picture?"

"Obviously," Eddie turned to him. "All the pictures. I haven't forgotten, you said there were more."

"What pictures?" Steve asked, still sprawled on the blanket propped up on his hands. 

"None of your business, pretty boy," Eddie shook a finger at him.

Jonathan made a vague sound, raising his brows.

"Shush you," Eddie pointed at him.

"I don't know where it is, man," Jonathan defended. "But I'll take another one, promise."

"But the uniform, Jonathan."

"What?" Robin joined in on the confusion.

—

In spite of strings being pulled, it took months for Eddie’s name to be cleared and longer for rumours to die down. He spent the in between months hiding out in basements and writing new music. And, eventually, he moved into a little bungalow with Wayne. 

Nancy and Robin both graduated, but Jonathan was held back another year. He drove both girls to Emerson for the start of Fall term, heart aching but full as he returned to Hawkins alone.

—

The night before the first day of highschool, Jonathan and Eddie met Steve outside the public pool. They scaled the fence, backpacks full of beer and weed, and settled with their feet in the water. Eddie deliberately put Jonathan in the middle, one knee bent so he could face the other two.

"Wayne says I gotta lay low for a whole year," he complained as he lit a cigarette.

"Probably smart," Jonathan agreed. He lifted his camera to take a photo, the reflection of the distant streetlights lighting the underside of Eddie's expression. "You could do a resurrection tour?"

"Sick," Eddie nodded.

Steve cracked a beer. "A whole year, and you only get to spend it with us losers?" He sighed. "I think I would die."

"Harsh, man," Eddie glared at him. "I'm the brightest fucking spot in your day, don't lie to me."

"Have you met Robin?" Steve argued back, hands raising to emphasize his point. Jonathan took another photo. "Funny, smart, my actual best friend?"

"She doesn't count," Eddie argued back. "Even if your girlfriend was here—"

"Not my girlfriend."

"—you don't get to use your default. That'd be like Jonathan saying Nancy is his favourite friend."

"She is my favourite," Jonathan agreed, pointing his camera at the empty lifeguard chair.

"Ouch, dude," Eddie tapped his knee. "Take my side, would you? Not including girlfriends, who's your favourite?"

"Will."

"Dude!"

Jonathan grinned at him, lowering his camera. "You, obviously."

"See?" Eddie pointed at him, but looked at Steve. "A reasonable response."

"That's called pandering," Steve intoned.

"Big word for the pretty boy," Eddie goaded. "Come on, excluding girlfriends—or love interests!—who's your favourite?"

"Told you," Steve rolled his eyes. "Robin. But if it makes you feel better, Henderson is a close second."

"Riiight," Eddie rolled his eyes.

Steve grinned, something soft colouring his expression that Jonathan recognized from the past. A fondness the other teen had shown to just a handful of people. Only one, really.

"I just remembered," Jonathan pulled his feet out of the water, dripping as he stood up. "I've gotta pick up Will before I go home."

"What?" Eddie panicked. "But we just got here!"

"Sorry," Jonathan shrugged. "Meeting adjourned."

"You're my ride!"

"I got you covered," Steve interjected. "Chill out."

Eddie wavered, eyes wide, looking between a still lounging Steve and where Jonathan moved to grab his socks and shoes. "I hate you," he settled, pointing at Jonathan.

"You love me," Jonathan teased. He shoved his things into his backpack, putting on a serious face as he walked backwards to the fence they had climbed over. He pointed at Steve. "I don't want to hear about any funny business. Curfew is midnight."

Steve rolled his eyes.

"Fuck off, mom," Eddie raised two middle fingers.

On the other side of the fence, Jonathan paused to take one more photo. He got up close to the grating, angling the lenses between the metal; Eddie and Steve had shifted closer together, their profiles semi lit in reflection. He captured a moment when their hands touched, Steve passing Eddie one of the beers. Eddie tilted back to laugh, and Steve smiled. 

The world seemed, in that moment, properly peaceful.