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The world is ending.
Jonathan’s certain his world has ended five times over at this point, nothing but a string of cataclysmic events since that cold night in November, the day that reset his entire life. He can pinpoint the ruinous moments on a map, stretching from Hawkins all the way to Lenora, circling around a road trip that weighs heavy in his heart; the first place he held Nancy, felt the warmth of her kiss. Indulged the feelings he’d spent so long trying to push away.
That dot is soft red, a beautiful rosy color, the same gentle shade of a setting sun. He thinks maybe that was the ending of a chapter in his life, saying goodbye to the boy who’d pushed everyone away, the Jonathan who thought it was easier to live alone than feel the stark shock of being known by someone. Really, truly, known. The way Nancy can recite his favorite books and the movies he’s shared with her, can list what he’ll order for dinner from his favorite Italian place. Can describe the birthmarks on his back and the mole on his shoulder, the one she likes to kiss early in the morning, waking him up with a teasing smile.
The pins in California feel like a light green, something pastel, a shade Will would use for a grassy hill (he should share that with Argyle if he wants a laugh.) It’s not home, and it never will be, but Jonathan’s a pragmatist. Things are what they are, and there’s no use in dreaming them different.
(Will’s the dreamer, he thinks. The one who keeps his wishes inside, because if he voices them, he fears they won’t come true.)
Lenora Hills is what they have, so Jonathan makes it work. He makes friends (okay, one friend) and gets solid grades, attempts to carve out a future path for himself. One that doesn’t necessarily involve Nancy, but late at night, when the missing feels tragically hard in his chest, he convinces himself that this is for the best. If he went to Emerson, he’d be so bogged down with working to pay for tuition, worrying about having money to send back to Mom, to help Will buy stuff for school. He’d barely have any time for Nancy, who’s sure to be a social butterfly, charming everyone she meets. A few weeks at college and she’ll forget all about him in favor of some well off junior, already lined up with a job at daddy’s firm. It’ll all work out for her.
(Maybe he’s better at fantasy, at lies, than he thought.)
The return to Hawkins is pinned in black, a terrible end to a cross-country escapade, one that leaves him more worried for his brother than the state of their world. It’s hard to tell when things are really, genuinely bad, because all of them have gotten so good at covering it all up. Even when the sky falls in, when monsters walk among them, there’s always a gentle quip from Dustin, a sarcastic remark from Nancy. Some half-hearted plea from Steve, a joke not to leave him with all these damn kids, even if he’s already ruffling Dustin’s hair.
Steve. It’s always a surprise to see him, even if Jonathan registers that he’s as much a part of their ragtag group as anyone else. A permanent fixture in his life, somehow attached to the kids (they’re not kids anymore, are they? Will’s fucking fifteen, and time keeps on turning,) closer than anyone could have ever predicted. And here he is, helping them try to patch together what’s left of the world, same way he helped patch up their living room wall three years ago.
Steve, Nancy says, and for the briefest moment, his chest squeezes tight. He hasn’t felt much anger towards the other boy (man? Steve feels older, somehow. Mature. Half an adult and half the high school freshmen he hangs around,) in years, but hearing Nancy mutter his name in that low voice, the one he desperately wants to pretend is reserved just for him, hurts a whole lot more than he’s expecting.
They don’t talk about it. Not in the way they should, probably. Not enough. Too few words unsaid, running so fresh in his mind that when the man himself appears beside him, grabbing the spare tire out the back in an attempt to help him fix up the van, Jonathan’s nearly at a loss for words.
“Sick car,” Steve offers, same Tom Cruise smile, same obnoxious hair rising three inches off his scalp. “You catch some waves out there?”
Jonathan blinks back at him, hand tightening around whatever device Hopper gave him to pop off their flat. “Huh?”
“In Cali. You, uh, you start surfing?” Steve raises his eyebrow, expression appearing like he’s genuinely curious about this answer.
“Nope,” he mumbles, ducking back over the busted tire. “Didn’t do that.”
He can hear Steve humming, the constant nervous energy he’s never been able to shake.
“You, uh, get into anything else?”
Jonathan has to fight the urge to roll his eyes, the same nasty monster who snapped at Nancy’s words rearing its head again.
“Do you need help with something?” He asks, popping the hubcap off with far too much force.
Steve’s silent for a moment, the only noise the sound of him setting the tire down in the dirt, pushing forward for Jonathan to grab hold of.
“Nah, I, uh-“ When he glances back over his shoulder, Steve’s doing the same, gaze focused back on the cabin and the two girls on the front steps, Robin tilting her head back as she laughs. “I just wanted to make sure you knew, like. Y’know. Nothing happened.”
That statement does nothing to lessen the harsh twist in his gut, the way he has to fight the urge to stand, to sulk away and let the confusion wash over him in private.
Instead, he turns back to the tire, dirty hands prying it up off the hub. He tries to concentrate on the feeling of the rough material, the way it scrapes his hands as he finally gets it free.
“Just in case- I dunno what she told you-“
“What should she have told me?” He asks, and it’s a miracle his voice sounds as flat as it does when there are tears pricking the corner of his eyes.
“That I’m a fucking idiot who can’t move on.”
That’s the first surprise hit in the conversation, and it makes him drop the tire all together, hand slipping against the side of the car as he finally stands up.
Steve looks as concerned as he feels, his eyes darting once again towards Nancy at the front of the cabin, before he turns back to face him.
“I said some stupid shit that I shouldn’t have,” he offers, hand slipping into his front pocket, another nervous tick that reminds him of high school, of a wholly different boy who used to walk the halls like he owned them. “I told Nancy… it doesn’t really matter. Just, like, it’s my problem. And not hers. And whatever she said to you, I know it’s not gonna happen.”
This feels a bit like trying to piece together an unheard conversation, like he’s only caught bits and pieces of something he should have had a front row seat to. It’s hard to know what Steve’s looking for here -forgiveness? Acceptance? The reassurance he didn’t do anything wrong?- so Jonathan’s really not clear how he’s meant to respond.
He settles on “okay,” after a long moment, letting his own gaze drift over to Nancy, who offers him a small wave and a beaming smile, just as she’s running her hand down El’s back, pulling the other girl in for a side hug.
The sight feels so warm, so lovely (his girlfriend and his sister, two of the strongest women in the world,) that he nearly forgets Steve is still waiting on an answer.
“That’s, uh. Yeah. Okay. Got it.” It’s not his best work, but it’s obviously not as bad as Steve was expecting, because the other boy turns on the mega-watt smile once more.
“Right,” Steve agrees, like any of this is really making sense. “So, like, as long as you know. And you’re not gonna beat the shit outta me again.”
That actually earns a little smile, curving up his lips before it softens again.
“Bigger fish to fry,” he jokes, and Steve nods hurriedly, his own grin twisting into a tiny grimace.
“Yeah, for real.” He turns away, finally giving into Jonathan’s own urge to retreat from this painful conversation, before abruptly spinning back towards him, sneakers skidding sharply in the dirt. “We’re good though, right?”
He’s unsure how to answer that. By his account, he and Steve haven’t truly had any problems for two years, although he certainly wouldn’t label them friends either. More like loose acquaintances, former monster hunters turned future world savers and/or monster bait, if things go far enough south.
It’s not worth it to think on that, any more than it’s worth it to hold a grudge against goddamn Steve Harrington just because he kissed Nancy first.
“Yeah, we’re good,” he echoes, and Steve answers with the most genuine smile he’s seen yet, real and true before he gives a little salute, turning back to head to the house.
They spend the night at the cabin, all ten of them crammed into a tiny building meant for two. Lucas calls the hospital just before bed, hushed words and a sad tone, and Jonathan doesn’t miss the way Steve claps a hand on his back, murmuring reassurance.
It’s the same smile he gave Jonathan himself a few hours ago, the soft maturity of a man who’s fully replaced the prom king of two years ago, the jock who tried to pick a fight outside the movie theater. And sure, he and Steve don’t need to be friends, don’t need to be anything more than allies against the unthinkable. But maybe, if he listens to the bravery peeking out of his chest, Jonathan can take a page from the playboy’s book.
The image turns over in his head as he lays down beside Nancy, tucked away into the corner, under the window and far enough from Steve that he feels he can voice the tiny thoughts echoing in the back of his mind.
“Hey,” he mumbles, inching closer on their shared blanket, his knee nudging Nancy’s. “Are you-“
“I’m awake,” she says, eyes opening slowly, little smile tugging on her mouth. “We just laid down. I’m awake.”
He nods, and the action brings him closer still, until he can feel her gentle breathing on his chin. It feels like home, like six months ago when things were easier, when the light at the end of the tunnel shown so bright, it was hard to remember there was any darkness at all.
“I got in,” he mutters, the words coming out so quickly they barely make sense. “I got my letter from Emerson. I got in.”
Her brows knit together in confusion, before something ecstatic crosses her face.
“Oh my god, Jonathan. That’s amazing!” She’s trying to stage whisper, excitement coloring her voice, pitching it a little too loudly for a room stuffed with everyone else they know. Nancy seems to catch on, craning in just that extra inch to brush a sweet kiss on his lips, before she continues. “That’s great, I’m so proud of you.”
Proud. That hurts worse than anything else, because he knows that feelings about to vanish right from her mind.
“I can’t go,” he finishes, and her expression shifts once more, back to the wrinkled nose, the concerned eyes.
“What?”
“Nance, I can’t- it’s too much money. I’d be working full time, and I’d never see you, and I don’t…” This is the hardest part, the thing that claws are his insides, the secret he’s been scared to admit to himself. “I don’t know if I want to go there.”
She takes a moment to absorb the confession, the silence of the room suddenly deafening. Someone coughs, and for a brief second he fears it’s Will, before he sees Dustin stand up and cross to the bathroom.
“You don’t wanna go?” She repeats, so low he almost misses it. “I thought… This was our plan.”
It was. It was her plan, mostly, but he went along, agreed on a dream life because he was too worried that if he didn’t fit alongside her dreams, then he wouldn’t fit with her at all.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and there’s a cold hand gripping his under the cover, little fingers he knows so well entwining with his own. “I want you to go. I want you to do what you want, but I don’t know-“
“What I want doesn’t have to be what you want,” she says, and it’s so easy from her mouth. “Where do you wanna go?”
NYU was always a pipe dream, but if he got good enough grades at LHCC, he potentially could have transferred. Of course, that’s a life that’s vanished with the cracking of the sky, the world they know being ripped away. Hawkins is turning into darkness, and he’s here telling his girlfriend he doesn’t want to go to Boston with her.
“Do you want to go?” She rephrases, always the journalist, always getting the answer. “It’s okay if you don’t. Or if you only said you did because of me-“
“I was scared.” That’s the hardest admission; even if Nancy’s seen him sobbing, held him as he cried for Will and his mom and himself, this feels worse, somehow. This fear isn’t rational, and he knows it, but it’s still lurking in his brain. “I thought you wouldn’t want… like, you’d wanna break up with me. If I didn’t want to go.”
Much to his surprise, Nancy laughs outright at that statement. It’s so loud she has to duck her head into his chest, letting the warm giggles fall over his shirt as he tries to compress the sound, to spare his mom and Hopper the unfortunate remembrance of teenage miscommunications.
“Jonathan,” she mutters, pressing a stark kiss to his chest, right above his heart. “You’re so smart, and that’s so stupid.”
She’s right, as always; it wasn’t a very logical response, but it was responsible for the fear that stuck to his brain, the constant worry of never being good enough for her.
“I wouldn’t break up with you because you don’t want to pay a shitton of money to go to a school you’re not interested in.” Nancy finally pulls her head back to peer up at him, wearing the sweetest smile he’s ever seen. “That would be insane of me. I’d be horrible. I’d be the worst girlfriend in the world.”
“Never the worst,” he mumbles, and she lets out another chuckle.
“I wouldn’t. And I know-“ She breaks off, smile dimming just slightly, eyes searching his face. “I know it’s been really hard being apart. But I don’t… I still want to try. If you do.”
If. Maybe they’re both equally smart and equally idiotic when it comes to this, to love.
“I do,” he promises. “I want to try.”
She nods against his chest, worming to rest her forehead right in his neck, a familiar positioning that he’s missed dearly.
“Me too,” she agrees, and there’s a soft squeeze to his hand, another kiss on his skin. For a long moment, there’s only her breathing, a steady rise and fall he knows so well, so soothing that he nearly drifts off to sleep, before she breaks the quiet again. “After we save the world, we can crack open some of my college guidebooks.”
After we save the world; she’s got her priorities straight, as always.
“Okay,” he whispers, because he can’t find a reason not to believe her. If Nancy’s saying it, it surely must be true. “Save the world. Find a school. Invest in travel insurance.“
Her answering giggle melts right into his skin, drifting up towards his head, and he can feel another pin sinking into the board, another legacy moment in the story of how the world ends. This dot is a sweet pink, like Nancy’s favorite skirt, a color that makes him smile. It marks something; an end and a beginning all at once, the knowledge that this world can change forever, but theirs is shifting right alongside it.
So long as he's beside Nancy, Jonathan's fairly certain he can live to see the world end for a sixth time. Maybe even a seventh, before he makes that first drive up to Boston.