Chapter Text
The woods shouldn’t sound like that.
They shouldn’t crack and breathe and shift like something is alive inside them.
—Don’t look back —Nancy says, even though she does.
Jonathan is running ahead of her. The flashlight bounces against his chest, his camera slams against his side.
Cold air burns his lungs. Something is following them. Something that doesn’t need light to see.
A root.
A misstep.
The ground disappears.
The river swallows him whole.
The impact is brutal. It isn’t just cold. It’s violent. Like a thousand needles piercing through skin at once.
Water rushes into his sleeves, down his collar, into his mouth when he tries to gasp.
He can’t breathe.
He doesn’t know which way is up.
The cold punches the air out of him.
His arms won’t move.
Darkness.
—
—JONATHAN!
Nancy’s voice cuts through the chaos.
She sees him surface once — just once — before the current pulls him sideways.
She doesn’t think.
She runs.
She drops to her knees at the riverbank and plunges her arm into the freezing water, catching the back of his jacket as he slips again.
The cold bites instantly, climbing up her arm, stealing her breath.
—Look at me! Look at me!
His eyes are open, but unfocused.
He’s not fighting.
That terrifies her more than anything.
She steps into the river up to her knees, ignoring the pain, and pulls with everything she has.
He’s dead weight. Slippery. Unresponsive.
—Come on!
With one desperate, shaking effort, she drags him onto the muddy bank. They both collapse.
For one awful second, he doesn’t move.
Then it starts.
The shaking.
Violent. Relentless. His entire body jerking as if trying to escape itself.
—Hey. Hey. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.
His lips are already turning blue.
His teeth chatter so hard it sounds like something breaking.
—
They barely make it back to the Byers’ house.
Joyce isn’t home.
Nancy doesn’t waste time.
She gets him inside, strips off his soaked clothes with trembling hands. He tries to help but can’t hold himself upright.
—Sit. Just sit.
She wraps him in a towel first. Then a blanket. Then another.
He’s still shaking.
His skin is ice beneath her hands.
She remembers something she once read.
Hypothermia.
Gradual warmth.
Body heat.
Her throat tightens, but she doesn’t hesitate.
She climbs under the blankets with him.
She wraps herself around him completely.
One leg hooked over his.
One arm tight around his back. Her free hand pressed flat against his chest, feeling the frantic rhythm of his heart.
He’s freezing.
—Breathe with me.
His voice barely works.
—Na… ncy…
—Shh. Just breathe.
She exaggerates it.
Slow inhale.
Slow exhale.
He can’t match her at first. His breaths are short, broken, uneven. But she keeps going.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Gradually — slowly — his body begins to follow.
The shaking doesn’t stop, but it softens.
Their foreheads touch.
—Don’t leave — she whispers before she can stop herself.
His eyes blink, sluggish but aware.
—I wasn’t… planning to…
Even now, he tries to joke.
She tightens her grip.
—
The bedroom door creaks open with an indignant little sound.
Rocket.
The small tuxedo kitten marches in, tail straight up like a banner.
He stops at the edge of the bed.
Stares at the mountain of blankets.
Mauls louder.
—Not now, Rocket — Nancy mutters.
Mistake.
Rocket leaps.
He lands on the bed and immediately starts burrowing under the blankets, paws pushing, nose determined.
Jonathan manages, weakly:
—We’re… overcrowded…
Nancy squeezes him tighter.
—Shut up and stay still.
Rocket successfully wedges himself between them, pressing his tiny warm body right against Jonathan’s chest.
And then he starts purring.
It’s loud. Steady. Vibrating.
The sound hums through Jonathan’s ribs.
Something shifts.
The tremors ease another fraction.
Nancy feels it — the change in his skin under her palm. It’s no longer painfully rigid. There’s warmth returning. Faint, but real.
—That’s it… — she murmurs. —Stay with me.
Their breathing begins to align.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Rocket’s purr fills the spaces between.
Jonathan’s body slowly mirrors hers.
Their chests rising and falling together.
The panic loosens its grip.
—I thought… — he swallows — I wasn’t getting out.
Nancy closes her eyes for a second.
—Don’t ever do that to me again.
—Wasn’t… intentional.
She lifts her head just enough to look at him.
Color is creeping back into his cheeks.
He’s here.
The relief hits harder than the fear did.
—Idiot — she whispers.
And she kisses him.
It isn’t gentle at first.
It’s urgent.
It’s a you’re alive kiss.
He freezes for half a second — then responds, weak but certain. His hand, still cold, slides up her back.
Rocket meows in protest, squished between them.
Nancy pulls back just enough to breathe.
—If you fall into an icy river again, I’m leaving you there for five minutes.
Jonathan rests his forehead against hers.
—You wouldn’t.
She smiles.
—No. I wouldn’t.
Rocket finally settles, curling tighter against Jonathan’s chest, as if guarding him personally.
Their breathing is fully synchronized now.
Up.
Down.
Up.
Down.
The house is quiet.
The river is gone.
The forest is gone.
There’s only warmth.
Blankets.
Nancy’s arms around him.
Rocket’s steady purring anchoring them both.
Jonathan’s eyes drift closed.
—Thank you… — he murmurs.
Nancy presses a softer kiss to his cheek.
—Always.
And this time, they aren’t holding each other to survive.
They’re holding each other because neither of them wants to let go.
Rocket, satisfied with his rescue mission, decides this arrangement is acceptable.
Even if it is a little crowded.