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“When you’re different, sometimes you feel like… a mistake. But you make her feel like she’s not a mistake at all.”
Jonathan’s hands tighten on the wheel, tendons stretched taut over bone, knuckles whitening at the crack in Will’s voice. Every bone in his body aches to say something, anything, to grab Mike by the shoulders and just fucking shake him because he doesn’t understand how anyone could be so clueless.
“If she seems like she was pushing you away it’s probably just because she’s scared of losing you, just like you’re scared of losing her.”
There’s audible strain around every she and her, a physical fight to refrain from saying the words on the tip of his tongue, and Jonathan’s not sure if he wants Will to slip up or not. He doesn’t want him to say anything he’s not ready for, doesn’t want him pushed into anything too fast, but in the small rectangle of the rearview mirror, ignorant naivety is clear in Mike’s face.
Will’s desperation, his pain, is hard to watch, and Jonathan readily welcomes his role as driver if only because the never-ending desert road doesn’t make his heart wrench the way the sight of his brother does.
“If she was going to lose you, I think she would rather just get it over quick. Like ripping off a bandaid… El needs you, Mike, and she always will.”
El. Tightening his lips around the disdainful sound that wants to come out, Jonathan inhales deeply through his nose, fighting down every cell in his body just screaming at him to go comfort Will.
The boys know he’s there, they have to know he can hear them, but for the most part they seem locked in their own separate worlds. Mike’s riding high in the sky, bolstered by Will’s white lies as he likely imagines some not-so distant reunion with the girl he loves, while down below Will is clawing his way towards Mike, floundering for some acknowledgment that he’d truly been heard, his eyes bleeding so much hopeless love that Jonathan can’t believe Mike doesn’t see it.
When Will finally turns to the window, hand over his mouth like it might keep him from betraying himself, Jonathan is forced to blink back tears on his little brother’s behalf. Will’s never had it easy but this… this should’ve been smooth sailing. Sure, people like Troy Walsh and Lonnie Byers and every intolerant bible-thumper in their backwater town couldn’t make things simple for someone like Will, but this wasn’t them.
This was Mike Wheeler.
This was the same boy who had once fought tooth and nail against the world to find his best friend, now out of reach; distant and distracted, and everybody but him seemed to realize it.
But Jonathan can’t say anything without outing Will, and his advice would likely be unwanted at the moment, so he only returns his attention to the unending yellow lines, mile after mile swallowed up under the van’s wheels.
His attempts to get Will to open up in the Surfer Boy are fruitless but Jonathan has enough presence of mind to accept that it’s not about him, and he buries his frustrations for the sake of the mission. Watching Mike turn Will’s words against him to save El is infuriating, but it gives his sister the strength she needs to survive so he’s able to find it in himself to forgive Wheeler on those grounds, at the very least.
Then they’re back in that goddamn van for two thousand miles. Argyle’s stash is running low which means he’s almost sober and actually awake even when he’s not driving, and he and El get into several conversations that Jonathan finds confusing and completely unlistenable. Will’s quiet (more so than usual) and Mike’s an unbearable mix of anxious and elated and the entire experience is easily the worst car ride Jonathan’s ever been on.
All that on top of the Nancy Situation, which he’s pushing to the back of his mind for his own sanity, and there’s really no chance of having a private conversation with Will anytime soon.
Back in Hawkins shit has hit the fan again, in a way he’s not sure they can come back from, but it turns out that being back with family and friends, everyone alive and (relatively) safe, does wonders for a little peace of mind.
Eddie Munson (and that’s an addition to their little group Jonathan really wasn’t expecting) has been laid up in Hopper’s old cabin with El. According to Dustin he’d dragged himself through the portal in his trailer with one hand keeping his organs in and the other still clutching his homemade spear, but Jonathan heard from the man himself that it wasn’t quite so dramatic. Everyone’s taking turns coming by the cabin to tend to Eddie’s wounds, drop off food, or just keep the two fugitives company, but Will and Jonathan both do more than their fair share — Jonathan doesn’t feel right leaving his sister after everything they’d been through and he suspects Will feels much the same.
All that newfound time spent with both Will and Eddie just makes Jonathan mourn the fact that they ever left Hawkins. The two talk DND for hours, one Dungeon Master to another, Will more animated and excited than he’s been in months; the resentment that his old party joined a new one in his absence had very quickly melted into admiration and, perhaps, something more.
One day Mike accompanies Jonathan and Will to the cabin, very quickly disappearing into the old bedroom with El. They leave the door open slightly, greatly helping the peace of mind of everyone else in the cabin, but their murmured conversations are still quiet enough to be audible. From his usual torn-up armchair in the corner Jonathan tries to subtly keep an eye on Will over the top of his book, but the pained expression at El and Mike’s proximity hasn’t taken up residence on his face. He and Mike had been chatting amicably in the car (slowly, so slowly repairing whatever chasm had grown between them since last summer) but the moment Mike made a beeline for his girlfriend, Will’s focus was elsewhere.
Specifically, on Eddie.
Will had spent hours drawing DND character sheets for some of the party, and he now presented Eddie’s to him with a shy, tight-lipped smile. Eddie scrutinizes it for a long moment, dark eyes flickering up and down the paper, taking in his sorcerer’s details, stats and physical descriptions written out just as he’d narrated them to Will. Gaze animated yet somehow completely inscrutable, Eddie stares at Will overtop the finished character sheet with unwavering intensity. Will’s practically squirming in anticipation and Jonathan’s about to tell Eddie to cut him a break when his face splits into a grin.
“Astonishing work, little Byers, truly.” He places the sheet aside with reverence, his smile falling into something a little more genuine, a little more fond, as Will beams. “You made those for everyone?”
“Pretty much.”
Eddie leans his elbows on his thighs, hands clasped between his knees. Metal jangles with every movement, and though his baggy GNR t-shirt hides the bandages, Jonathan can see the way his eyes tighten at the corners in pain. “Fulfilling your sacred artist duties in addition to being our Cleric, then?”
Shrugging, Will looks bashful. “I like drawing, I always have. Did you ever figure out any more details on your next campaign?”
Eddie’s smile goes crooked. “Sure did,” he says, laughing at Will’s hopeful expression. “But we run the campaign when this is all over, and you’re all playing fair. No worming extra details out of me.”
Jonathan’s not sure if Eddie’s been making big talk about running a campaign “when this is all over” for weeks because he wants to give the kids a light at the end of the neverending tunnel or if he’s just that optimistic about Vecna’s defeat, but either way his words make Will brighten just a little. Will’s lips quirk up in that way Jonathan knows means he’s about to say something mischievous… Last time he got that look, he’d been suggesting they use El’s powers to clean out Vegas casinos. “Even though I’m your favorite party member?”
Eddie runs a hand through unruly hair as he leans back into the broken down sofa he’s inhabited nearly every time Jonathan’s seen him. “You’re only my favorite because of this,” he says, gently waving the character sheet with a softness around his eyes that tells Jonathan he’s kidding. “Don’t push your luck, William, or Erica’s going back into first place.”
“So it’s not Dustin!” Will says, bouncing imperceptibly in his seat.
“Nope,” Eddie pops the P with a little more emphasis than he needs. “But you didn’t hear it from me.” Eddie winks, Will’s face flames, and Jonathan pulls his book higher to hide his own exasperated head shake.
Will’s not over Mike, not by a long shot, but this crush he’s been harboring on Munson is harmless. Jonathan had heard the rumors about Eddie back in Hawkins High, crueler words than freak hurled at the teen, unsure what truth, if any, lay behind them. He’s wary of outing Will to someone he doesn’t know (wary of outing Will at all, except maybe to their mom because she’s always known in the same unspoken way Jonathan does, and loves her son too fiercely to ever care) but Eddie… Eddie’s an unabashed outcast who revels in the status he’s earned himself.
If anyone can help Will open up to himself and others, it’s Eddie Munson.
They’re not friends. Jonathan wasn’t there during the whole Hawkins adventure, didn’t get that life-threatening situation to bond with Munson the way Nance and Steve and Robin — another strange, if easily accepted, addition to their group — had over the past several weeks. Despite their shared outcast status, they’d never really talked in school, and since coming back Jonathan’s been preoccupied enough with his family and slowly-crumbling relationship that, even with all the time he’s been spending at the cabin, he and Eddie still aren’t close.
The hardest part is getting Eddie alone. He’s not really actively trying so much as waiting for the right moment, and it just never seems to come. Jonathan doesn’t have much of a reason to be at the cabin without either of his siblings and Eddie hardly dares to show face outside a small perimeter of woods around Hop’s cabin.
One day while some of the younger kids are hanging out in what’s been designated El’s half of the cabin, it’s Eddie who nods in the direction of the plywood door. Unsure what he wants, Jonathan shrugs amicably and follows him out to the porch.
Porch might be a strong word, it’s really just two beach recliners set up under what remains of the eaves, but they each take a chair and with the springtime sun just peeking through the trees it’s surprisingly pleasant. Eddie fishes a tin of chewing tobacco out of his pocket and Jonathan’s surprised for a moment, but he opens it to reveal several carefully rolled joints instead and yeah, that makes more sense.
Lighting it and taking a long drag, Eddie casts his gaze over to Jonathan with one brow raised in silent offer. He shakes his head. “I have to drive the kids back later.”
“Suit yourself.”
Jonathan watches pungent smoke curl from the glowing cherry and figures fuck it . If this isn’t his chance to probe Eddie about Will, then when?
“You’re good with the kids,” he says, shooting Eddie a sideways glance. “I’m glad they’ve got a lot of people watching over them through all this, even when I’m gone.”
“I heard you were one of the original ghostbusters,” Eddie returns, joint dangling loosely from heavily-ringed fingers. “You, Harrington, and your girl.”
“The nail bat was mine first,” Jonathan laughs, “But Steve’s successfully appropriated that one from me.”
If Eddie was a surprising addition to their group, Steve was even more so. It had happened slowly, but the asshole Prom King who’d hurled slurs at Jonathan and drank his way through high school was gone. There would always be a part of Jonathan who heard those ugly words ringing in his head whenever he looked at the guy and he doubted anything could ever change that, but the Steve Harrington that Argyle was meeting was a far different man from the one Jonathan had met all those years ago.
“That bat is one wicked piece of hardware.”
“You’re telling me?” The smile drops off Jonathan’s face and he turns to face Eddie fully. “I’m serious, man. Back when it was just me and Nance trying to figure all this out… it was tough. I’m glad you all got more people watching your backs, especially the younger kids.”
Eddie scoffs. “Don’t start on me like I’m some kind of hero.”
Jonathan sends a pointed look to Eddie’s ribs, healing well but still heavily bandaged under another old band shirt. “The kids seem to think you are. Especially Will. He likes you, you know?” he says, keeping his expression as neutral as possible. If Eddie understands what he’s hedging at, that’s on him, but if the man’s straighter than Jonathan thinks he is, he’ll probably just assume the words are innocent.
He’s expecting a knowing smile, a blank stare, a dismissive snort; any reaction, really, other than the anger. It’s there and gone in an instant, a shadow passing over his face before Eddie just… shuts down. Jonathan recoils, taken aback, but before he can say anything to rectify whatever mistake he’d just made, Eddie hisses, “You read me wrong, Byers.”
Opening his mouth to argue, Jonathan’s torn between fury and denial. “I don’t-” he starts, only to be cut off again.
Looking at Eddie, it’s hard to tell between the hard lines of pain and anger as he twists to face Jonathan head-on. “I’m not like that, okay? Don’t ever insinuate something so ugly again.”
Jonathan’s cursing himself now. He should’ve known better than to push such a sensitive topic with someone from goddamn Hawkins Indiana, and the only thing heavier than the guilt of putting Will in danger is that perpetual itch, the need for violence that’s sat deep in his gut for as long as he can remember. The trauma of fighting interdimensional beasts and losing his brother didn’t help, but he has a sinking feeling that deeply rooted anger is just one more thing Lonnie Byers left him with.
That and the raised, ugly scar above his left knee.
The last thing he needs is for Will (or any of the kids) to overhear this argument, so he lowers his voice to a murmur that doesn’t match his mood. “Careful, Munson.”
The warning lilt to his voice must tell Eddie how serious he is, because Eddie balks for the barest second before he sets his jaw and curls his lip in disgust. “I know you’re good in a fight but injured or no, this is going to end ugly if you even, for a second, imply I’d ever lay a hand on a kid.”
It’s Jonathan’s turn to hesitate, anger muddling into a murky kind of confusion. “What?”
“What?” Eddie mimics, laughing bitterly. “You know what. Predatory fag who’s corrupting the children, he probably likes how many freshmen are joining his little club…” He finally breaks eye contact, taking another long drag of the joint. “I’ve heard it all, Jonathan, and I’m done listening to that shit.”
The tension has dissipated into thin air. Jonathan’s floored; Eddie’s simmering with barely-contained temper but he hasn’t made a move to get up.
He’s heard those kinds of sentiments before, from a distance, gay men being predators, pedophiles, a diseased danger to the youth of America. Jonathan opens his mouth, realizes he’s gaping and makes an active effort to shut his jaw, tries to decide what to say and just settles on, “Good.”
Eddie’s giving him an arch look. He doesn’t say anything but his expression demands an explanation.
“Look, that’s not what- I wasn’t implying you’d ever go for my brother. Honestly, if I thought you would, you’d be a dead man already. I was just trying to hint that I think he’s got a kind of hero-worship crush on you.”
Shoulders still tense, face softening, Eddie settles back into his beach chair. “Sorry,” he says, curt.
“No, you had every right to react that way.” Jonathan’s been on the receiving end of scorn his entire life, but to be called something so foul… he’s not sure he could handle that, sickened by the fact that Will might one day be opening himself up to that kind of hate. “I know what it’s like… well, I don’t know but — I get it. How hard that must be.”
Eddie’s only response is another drag on the joint. “Yeah,” he says, clipped, tone disbelieving.
“Are you though?”
“A pedophile?” Eddie’s snort tells Jonathan he’s kidding. “Nah, but I am gay.”
It’s obviously not something he’s running around town advertising with a neon sign, but the ease, the hint of humor with which he says the word “gay” makes Jonathan think he’s had some time to come to terms with himself. “Do you think you could talk to Will? He’s been so closed off about this and I understand but… I worry. God knows I’ve done my best to be there for him but I think he needs a real role model, someone he can actually relate to.” The fact that the guy Will’s in love with is an unattainable idiot probably hasn’t helped matters either, but there’s little anyone can do about that.
Eddie’s head turns just far enough that he can meet Jonathan’s eyes. “The kid loves you more than anyone, you know. It’s not about a lack of trust.”
Jonathan dips his head. “I know it’s not. My mom and I love him, we’d go to the ends of the earth for him and he knows this but it’s like I said… I really just think he needs someone who’s been right where he is.”
“Yeah.” The word comes out on an exhale of smoke. Eddie doesn’t reply for a while, the forest noises replacing their voices until Jonathan’s almost forgotten he’s waiting on an answer. “I’ll talk to Will,” breaks Jonathan out of his reverie and he startles, hands reaching for a weapon that isn’t there before he remembers where he is.
“Thank you, Eddie.”
“Anything for the little demons, right? But I’m not telling him to come out to anyone, okay? I’ll just… let slip about an ex of mine or something, let him know who I am and see where he goes with that.”
Jonathan’s smile is wry. “I don’t need a coming out confessional, I need him happy and comfortable. Whatever way we go about that is fine by me.”
Eddie hums in agreement. “I’m glad you and Argyle were able to be there for him and the others.”
“I wish I’d been here in Hawkins to help out earlier. Coming back to that kind of destruction…”
“We already had one shotgun-toting maniac here, not to mention the same two idiots who managed to break into and, perhaps more impressively, out of a Russian bunker. We had plenty of reinforcements in Hawkins, Mike and your siblings needed you and Cervantez in California with them.”
Jonathan ignores the unsaid praise, attention snagging on a little piece of information Eddie had just dropped. “Argyle usually tell people his last name. You been spending time with him?”
“A little.” He waggles the joint in his hand as though that explains everything. Honestly, it kind of does.
“You still dealing at all?” Jonathan’s not judging, just curious.
“Nothing stronger than pot, not since Chrissy-” Eddie’s throat bobs and he cuts himself off. “But yeah, a little bit. Most of Hawkins might call me a degenerate and a killer, but that doesn’t mean they’re still too proud to buy my bud.” His head lolls to the side so he can kind-of see Jonathan. “What’s California like?”
“Sunny, dry.” Jonathan thinks for a moment. “Everything’s just a little more laid-back.”
“That’s not really what I was asking.”
He figured the weather hadn’t been what Eddie was getting at. “AIDS is really screwing things up everywhere, even in more tolerant states, but I’ve heard San Francisco is as close to a haven as you can get.”
Jonathan turns to look at Eddie, really look at him. He’s got the same wild mane of hair Jonathan remembers from school. Black band tee, black cargo pants with chains, studs and silver metal glimmering everywhere and dark tattoos stark against pale skin — a literal black sheep amongst all the small-town jocks and perfect, christian family units. For all he denied being a hero, Eddie was braver than he got credit for.
“I appreciate the attention, Byers, but I didn’t realize you swung that way,” Eddie chuckles. He’s not looking at Jonathan but seems to have felt his eyes anyways.
Jonathan scoffs, not bothering to dignify that with an answer.
“Jon?”
“Yeah, El?”
She’s cross-legged on her bed, watching Jonathan while he does his best to fix the crooked leg of an old bookshelf he found on someone’s curb. With so little to do out in the cabin, El’s reading is becoming proficient, and her stack of books in the corner (donated by friends and family) grows day by day.
“What does gay mean?”
His hands still for a long moment. “Uh, it’s when a guy likes other guys in a romantic way. I guess it can also be used for girls who like other girls, but there’s other words for that like lesbian too.”
El’s oh is soft. There’s another bit of silence and Jonathan resumes working. Then… “Is it bad?”
“A lot of people think so, but it isn’t, not really.” He stops again, looks up. “Why?”
“Will told me he is gay. I didn’t know what it meant but it seemed hard for him to say, so I did not want to ask.”
Jonathan’s head snaps up. “Will came out to you?”
“Came out,” El repeats, slow, like she does with all her new words and phrases. “Yes, he did.”
“What’d you say?” He’s holding his breath, hoping she handled it well, but he should know by now to have more faith in his sister.
“He seemed scared, so I hugged him and told him he is family, and I love him.”
El might’ve had the most dysfunctional childhood of them all, but the way she’s adapted to having family, friends, normal human interaction with the most perceptive care in the world just amazes Jonathan. “That’s a perfect way to react to that kind of news, El, you did good.”
“He was happy and…lighter after he told me.”
“I bet he was.”
Jonathan’s finally gotten the makeshift replacement leg screwed on tight and finagled the bookshelf into one corner before El speaks again.
“Is it not normal?”
“Being gay?”
She nods.
“Most people aren’t, but just because it’s a little unusual doesn’t make it a bad thing.” He leans against one wall with arms crossed, sensing that this conversation might be long.
“So it is okay if I am a lesbian?”
He blinks, long and slow, and doesn’t say anything. There’s at least a few pieces missing from this puzzle, but they’ve been lost on the floor somewhere and neither Jonathan nor El seems to know where they might be.
“Do you not like Mike?” he hazards, because that seems like the most logical place to start.
“I do,” El replies slowly. “Or I did, at least,” — and wow , he’s not going to start unpacking that past tense did right now — “But I think I also like Max.”
Okay, this he can work with. The piece buried in the carpet’s been successfully found. “Usually a lesbian is a girl who only likes girls. If you like guys too you could be bisexual.”
Eyes wide, nodding slowly, El silently tests the word, rolls it around her mouth for a moment. “Okay. Thank you.” Jonathan waits, but El seems otherwise unbothered by this revelation.
“Do you… do you need anything else?”
El shakes her head no and Jonathan can only nod. “Right. Well, if you decide you want to tell anyone else just… keep it to people you trust, yeah?” He doesn’t quite feel like explaining homophobia to a newly-come-out fourteen year-old but he needs her to be safe, at least. “There are people out there who won’t react kindly to that part of you.”
“I am used to that,” she says, and Jonathan’s heart maybe breaks just a little.
“Right, of course. And El?”
“Yes?”
“If you want to tell Will, I’m sure he’d love to know he’s not alone in this.”
“He is never alone,” she says, solemn, and fuck if that doesn’t make Jonathan’s heart swell to hear.
“None of us are.”