Chapter Text
November 5, 1988
"Jonathan"
"Jonathan"
"JONATHAN'
He wakes to the sounds of his friend's voices.
He's been sleeping in more again, now that he's fully comfortable in New York.
Even some of the nightmares are gone. Well, most of them.
More so because he's started to work his life into his classwork and projects than anything else.
He's coming to terms with it, facing it, looking it dead in the eye, and taking back what control he can of it.
Of course, right now, he has none.
"Jonathan. We have to go. Like now," Alexis is saying.
Then his sheets get yanked off, and there are joking sighs.
"Oh, Jonathan, you did this for me?" Robert's laughing.
Jonathan groans, then gets up, moves, and throws on clothes.
"What?" He blinks, and the guys are all there.
"It's time." Franz nods outside. "We have to get to Stonewall."
Since the seven of them have realized that a lot of them are queer of some kind or form (Jonathan doesn't doubt that one day could include him, but he's not quite there yet, still stuck on her, and honestly having no time to really think about it with an increased work and course load after his major switch), they've spent a lot more time down there, at the inn, or in the park itself, going to events or protests.
Besides, whenever crushes come up, or even Emma and Amy’s relationship is in the spotlight for a moment, Jonathan still feels like an empty space is in his gut, and he’s back looking through that frosted window, making out the shapes on the other side.
Sure, there have been moments: hands against his, a shared look, or a warmth that makes him think that he probably is, not just that he could be, but he’s letting that simmer as long as he can.
He really has no time...
Alexis has even made jokes that Jonathan has laughed at, and despite himself, tried to use to hint at his probable true self, but the others are waiting for him to say it, which he’s both grateful for and wishes they wouldn’t.
That they would just ask him. Just so he could see how it feels or confirm it.
He also wonders if it’s not just that.
Because sometimes, as they walk through those crowds, he thinks about Hawkins.
A place where being different means hiding away, and only revealing the truth through the thin lines between lies, or in unsaid glances or gestures.
Or the safety of his house, where he and Robin bonded, or the radio station where Will confessed his fears.
Friendships and relationships where layers of secrecy piled on, and what went unsaid was as important as what was said.
But here, he’s gradually becoming part of a found family where they can be themselves and open, at least amongst each other.
It’s an acceptance that he’s largely only ever dreamed about.
Sure, his old longing was a pure ache, but it feels like healing now.
He hopes Robin has been finding the same.
The Stonewall trips feel natural, and honestly, a bunch of Midwest gays and small-town college kids who didn't get to be themselves growing up sounds like the perfect fit for the place.
They like the inn and the people who run it, who have taken a bunch of outsiders in, just like they had hoped to be, and they love the history.
Jonathan also loves that it's so close, and that it has such great Party nights that he sees his friends let loose in a way they never could back in Indiana.
But now, they're doing it for something else.
The 1988 election is next week, and Jonathan almost wouldn't have known it if NYU hadn't become a rallying cry against 8 years of Republican rule.
Reagan, and now Bush, are threatening the same thing as ever.
ACT UP flyers litter the parks and NYU, with posters showing those lost to AIDS.
Posters for Dukakis are in the student union with Jessie Jackson speeches from the trail playing everywhere, and a fresh energy afoot that things need to change after so much fear and hate. Neglect and silence.
He’s even taken some photos for The Village Voice, through O’Brien’s friend, of the activists all around him.
Because he shares their foe:
The same government that Lonnie got his bullshit rhetoric from. The same government that kept his brother scared, keeps his new friends scared, and profited from the system that had isolated his family.
His mom had slipped her copy of the Communist Manifesto into his bag, and, well, maybe he's been reading it late at night in bed, and he doesn't necessarily disagree.
He kind of hates law enforcement anyway, and has punched several cops in his day, especially over his family.
Hopper being a cop is weird enough, but he knows he at least has a soul in there.
Or he did, remembering his kindness in 1983 and '84.
Now, it's just kind of weird that he's around again, like all the time, but he was trying before Jonathan left, while also trying to come to terms with losing another daughter, so Jonathan does appreciate it.
Genuinely.
Even if he doesn’t think much of him yet, besides that.
He’s distracted by rushing to classes, by the rage of the protests that feel as familiar as his blood, and how he wants a better world for maybe himself, but also for Will, Robin, and all of them.
Distracted by the growing fire of the fights even when pressed against barricades, as the unity of his community embeds itself in them.
The activism and calls for survival, the anticipation for Tuesday, is peaking this weekend, and Jonathan maybe has plans for the weirdest and best day ever.
There's a major march, starting outside the Inn, that almost everyone Jonathan knows is going to. And so is he.
He's even going to bring a handheld camera and document it all.
He'll work on some of the techniques that Folger has started teaching him.
And, well, his friends were going to be marching too, so he plans to work with them to highlight what needs highlighting.
How to capture the energy of the moment. Of the movement.
The odds are low, really, really low that it matters, but if they can even flip a few states, that's enough to show the discontent.
Flipping government as a whole would be a dream, honestly.
One day even...if Jonathan Byers' work can showcase the real, true world, and shock people to their core, that he can show the rot at the heart of the modern American system, of overflowing lines outside small clinics, the people shaking as they stand, of overcrowded streets and boarded-up buildings, and cause a change; he'd consider that a personal life and career highlight.
And then...John Carpenter's new movie, They Live!, has just come out. A sci-fi satire is what Jonathan believes it is.
So a bit anti-capitalist too, like he is quickly growing into, if not growing up as he did, and seeing how that destroyed his mother, then wrecked him and his brother subsequently; he hadn't already been pre-NYU.
But now, he's rushing to get ready, in the shower, then in his room, and the guys are waiting the whole time.
"Come on, man! We must slay the beast that is Reagan!" Alexis is laughing, but he means it.
So, taking his Walkman, Jonathan runs out.
Throws on his headphones and queues up Bowie.
Today... today is the biggest day.
He's listening to Life on Mars as they walk down the street.
He sees the life pouring out around them: people in cafes, or headed to the cinema, the parks and gardens.
Now, just over 2 months later, Jonathan feels like he knows these streets. Knows them from late nights and early mornings. From some of his favorite days ever.
"Here we are." Ken waves them down, and there it is, just as the chorus is soaring.
The sailors fighting are something entirely different now.
A massive crowd holding huge signs fills the park outside Stonewall, and they're all rearing to go.
And they're not just gathering there; a swarm of people is also standing just outside, ready to protest the government and demand change.
To end the bullshit world that they've been living in for 8 years.
To demand new leadership, to call out for, to rally for... It's time.
It's time for change.
They arrive, finding Emma and Amy, and they are ready to fight.
Robert and Amy lock eyes again, and Jonathan thinks he truly understands why now, having been around them even more since that September morning.
They've both... neither are entirely unscathed these days, from everything. Neither is Emma, nor is Jonathan, and he's...he's gotten very good with the others at bar fights, or at how to leave them.
So for them, for his brother still hoping for a better future, and for his mother and what had been foisted upon her, Jonathan picks up his camera and begins to film.
They walk chanting, demanding Reagan go, and Bush with him, who would otherwise just be another term of the same bullshit.
The word is coursing through him today.
A familiar word she may have felt toward him, but he admires this; she never threw directly at him.
Or if it was thought, at least it was never said.
As both knew what that was code for.
But hey, she's probably at the version of this in Boston.
Robin is, after all.
She's never been shy about this either, having a Mondale sign up in her room back in the day.
So for once, he lets himself feel everything, filming the signs and the crowd's raw power.
As he does, he feels its vitality pouring out of him.
The crowd pounds the pavement for their beliefs, a sheer outpouring of people from all walks of life demanding better, demanding recognition, or even just a shot.
It's the bustle of a new world, and it's knocking on the door of the old one and demanding they leave at once.
It's electric.
As Bowie blares, Jonathan even films the cops arresting the wrong guy, which feels a bit synchronous.
He's still swirling afterward, buzzing even, as he freshens up for the film.
The raw energy of the day, and of the march itself, lingers, not only as adrenaline but as being part of something bigger, that matters again, of student and city solidarity.
Not just NYU, but New York City... that is his future.
The lingering buzz of it, the unity and the purpose, is filling him up with a newfound hope.
That a new life is possible.
In some ways.
He left the film reels from earlier in the lab and is letting the tech develop them. He'll pick them up in the morning, or on Monday.
He doesn't really have any plans for tomorrow.
He'll probably call home, like he has been doing on the weekends now.
He catches Will a bit more often, too, which is nice.
Will
He will call Will tomorrow, as he looks at the calendar in his room. Sees that it's the anniversary.
He doesn't like to ascribe importance to dates, but he would like Will to know that he's thinking of him.
That he's there for him even in New York.
He should probably call North too, but... he'll see.
He hasn't heard anything about her since he left.
He doesn't even let himself count days anymore, but he still recognizes the haunted visions.
He really has come to terms with more of their lives back there, though, by no longer just seeing the same people every day who he fought with, and the same places they fought through and for, but by seeing the constantly evolving city as well, and never failing to find something new in it.
So, he meets his roommate and friends, and they go out to see They Live!
They walk in the chilly November air, with new hopes and the possibility for change still rich in the air, and Jonathan Byers thinks...
This is it. This is the night that Hawkins gets put to bed.
The same peace lasts as they arrive at the theater, debate food choices, and take their seats.
It's just the guys going for whatever reason, but that's okay.
They'll catch the others tomorrow, and besides, the march was a lot, so they deserve some time to rest.
Jonathan's with Alexis again, as they've largely become each other's best friends, and the others have all formed little worlds too; old friends and new, as Jonathan's remains grateful, still, nearly two months later, just to be included.
They're watching the trailers, and they're all very funny and cheesy, and it's the late 80s, and Jonathan doesn't actually know if movies got much better in the few years that he missed, but he's having a blast regardless.
People laugh loudly around him, wolf down their popcorn and soda, and every person who walks in is instantly given away by the squeaky, stained floors.
The sounds give way to a nice aroma as Jonathan closes his eyes for a second, in between trailers.
Popcorn, soda, and cigarette smoke, and it's like New York condensed into one room, minus the exhaust of a cab or subway car.
He feels at home in the theater as people laugh and whisper around him.
He forgets everything else in his life, forgets Hawkins, forgets the pain and the love of it, as now he's resting in a little bubble of warmth and comfort.
The film reels click and pop; the AC is blowing despite the nearly freezing temperatures outside, and he's at home.
So tension-free, so peaceful.
Holy shit
Well, that fucking ruled.
That's his new favorite movie.
A paranoia thriller, a sci-fi satire condemning the excesses of capitalism, and a badass action movie with the single greatest and goofiest fight scene he's ever seen.
It ran way too long and was incredibly silly, outlandish, and awesome in every way.
He'd always loved Carpenter, loved Escape from New York, loved The Thing, but that just... wow, that was awesome.
"Better than Hallmark?" Alexis teases him on the way back to campus.
"Better than Hallmark." He laughs. "Like, that was awesome. Like... dude, that's the coolest movie I've seen in years. Like, at all. Wow. Did I miss anything that good?"
"No, I think that's up there. But I'll keep taking you to other movies and screenings, and we'll find something else to give you that high. Because you seem high as a kite right now."
"Only on good cinema," Jonathan teases.
The other four groan from behind him in unison with Alexis.
"NO" Is the common refrain.
Jonathan just laughs.
The other four come up and begin to tease Jonathan, quizzing him about other movies,
"I only saw Evil Dead 2 this spring." He admits.
"Wow." Franz and Robert are stunned.
"Dude, how did it take you that long? That's like the only other thing this good??" Alexis is, too.
"We didn't get the VHS. And when our theater reopened, they only played Hallmark movies, or old movies too, trying to keep the people happy and ready to be good citizens again, like they were the aliens!" Jonathan realizes.
He feels as high as he ever got in Lenora.
"Are the government aliens? Did we protest aliens today? I want to protest ET."
He’s raving now, and there may have been something in the air in there.
"Let's get you home before the zoomies wear off," Ken says. "I have experience in this front."
He walks ahead, the possibility electric.
Jonathan's cooling off now, back in bed.
He's so tired, but he's also so alive, and a year ago, ascending the radio tower, he would've never thought that this life would've been possible.
So he tries to sleep, not actually sure what time it is.
But he could use one more sip of water before he does.
He grabs his bottle for it, and nothing comes out.
Not a drop.
He shakes it again; nothing.
Obviously, he used it all up earlier.
Well, that's fine.
He'll just go to the common room and fill up there.
They have water fountains and stations there. Not the best, but they’ll do the job.
So quietly, he puts his feet down on the carpet and sneaks out.
The hall is quiet for once, so it might actually be really, really late.
His heart burns a bit for some reason, so he decides to walk a bit quicker, just in case something is up.
Just in case he somehow ate a brownie or sat too close to someone tonight.
But he eventually reaches the other end and opens the door.
It's quiet.
It's so peacefully quiet, and as he's looking out over the square as he fills his water bottle up, he's just thinking.
I'm happy
I'm genuinely happy
I'm going to wake up tomorrow morning, call Will, and spend the day with everybody here.
Find a new way to define the day.
He takes one extra second to look out the window.
One more second to look out at his home.
He pauses, letting the silence settle, even as a subtle yet cold chill starts to run up his spine.
It's late, but even with the now-full water in hand, he can't let this sudden restlessness go, the growing sense that something unfinished is lingering in the dark of the night, in between his thoughts.
Thoughts of the shadow instantly creep into his mind, the one that keeps haunting him, day and night.
No matter how much he tries to forget her, how many new beginnings he tries to stack on top of their old love, no matter how much he likes to think that he's found a new life, her face is still the first thing he sees every morning, like she's always the last photo that he's developed.
In some ways she always will be.
Sometimes even, when the quiet city awakens from its slumber and the fresh morning light cuts through his window, he feels restless, almost even with anticipation, like something unfinished with her is circling ever closer.
He'll breathe in an air charged with a hint of possibility that she'll appear from around the corner or from out of the shadows with a smile.
That he'll step out of his dorm to her standing on the sidewalk.
That he'll walk out of the theater, and she'll be there, puffing a cigarette against the brick wall, and drag him in for a kiss.
And a fight.
His past is insistent, and it's all starting to feel different as the leaves fall, like she's being held back by a door that’s about to be cracked open on its hinges.
He runs through his memories of her and their love, his hand subconsciously tightening his grip on the handle of his water bottle as he does, thinking of the letter that he'd written, the feeling that he'd needed to put to paper to be able to finally expunge from himself, and to confess to her, to be able to finally leave Hawkins, even while never expecting to cross paths with her again.
It’s a chapter of his life that he expected to remain closed, despite things trying to pull it open here: hearing her name, or saying it, even hearing a song playing on a radio that they'd driven or danced to.
He tries hard to keep it to just memories, but they feel like threads, ready and waiting to burst open.
He wonders if he's ever actually moved on from her or if he's just been in a holding pattern for 11 months as he looks out into the moonlit city, suddenly tense.
He's about to turn and leave, though, thinking nothing more of it than the anniversary haunting him.
The yearly chill.
When
RING
RING
RING
Odd, no one else is here.
RING
RING
RING
He doesn't remember seeing anyone else awake.
RING
RING
RING
So, despite his better judgment, he shakes his head and walks over.
RING
RING
"Hello?" He cuts it off, trying not to wake the others.
"Jonathan? It's Nancy. Nancy Wheeler."
Like he could ever forget.