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A couple of years ago, if someone told Jonathan Byers that one day he’d be sharing an apartment in New York with his ex-girlfriend, his high school bully, and his high school bully’s best friend, he probably wouldn’t have believed them.
For one thing, Jonathan spent a heavy portion of his adolescence under the reluctant assumption that he was doomed to stay in Hawkins until he died, and that cause of death would likely be earlier than he’d anticipated and due to possession or an interdimensional monster or sentient vines, or some shit like that. But Jonathan used to think a lot of things that didn’t turn out to be true – like that the band geek he had math with sophomore year didn’t even know his name, or that he and Nancy would spend the rest of their lives together, or that there was no way he’d ever willingly speak to Steve Harrington outside of a monster attack.
But here Jonathan is: in his senior year at NYU and living in a shitty four-bedroom walk-up with the most unusual assortment of roommates he could’ve possibly conceived of.
In fairness, Jonathan fell into the whole thing by accident. He and Nancy broke up shortly after they saved the world for what Jonathan hopes is the final time, because Nancy was finally going to Emerson, and Jonathan was staying behind, and because – well, because they just weren’t working anymore. It was hard, yeah, but in the end, it was mutual, and Nancy headed off for bigger and better things with the promise to keep in touch.
Jonathan hadn’t actually thought she’d keep her promise. He’d thought Nancy would fade away from Hawkins without looking back, maybe thinking back every now and again about Jonathan Byers and their small town and small memories. Which is why he was so surprised when the first postcard arrived from Emerson University nearly a month after Nancy left.
But, really – Jonathan should’ve known better than to underestimate Nancy Wheeler.
They exchanged a few letters and phone calls that first year. Nancy was actually the first person Jonathan told about getting into NYU, even if it was only because no one else was home at the time and Nancy happened to call only ten minutes after Jonathan opened his acceptance letter. It was startling, actually, how naturally they fell back into being friends again. Long-distance, casual friends, with very careful boundaries, but still, friends. So two years ago, when Jonathan was a sophomore at NYU and Nancy called to tell him she would be in the city, it didn’t even feel weird for Jonathan to suggest they meet up.
And that’s when Nancy told him she was graduating from Emerson early and going to Columbia for grad school in the fall, and that Steve and Robin had been living in New York for about a year – which was news to Jonathan, since last he’d heard they were still working at Family Video in Hawkins – and Nancy was moving in with the two of them, and there was a spare fourth bedroom in their apartment if Jonathan needed a place.
It was a ridiculous offer. Jonathan couldn’t say yes, not to living in the same apartment as his ex, his ex’s ex, and a girl from high school he barely knew. Sure, it’d been years since Nancy had dated either Jonathan or Steve, and just as long since Jonathan had even spoken to either Steve or Robin, but still. He’d be crazy to agree to something like that. And just the idea of living in the same square footage as Steve Harrington was enough to make him want to outright refuse.
So Jonathan politely declined, Nancy took his declination in stride, and that was that.
Until two months later, at the end of the spring semester, when Jonathan’s roommate announced he was transferring and Jonathan, unable to scrounge up enough money to cover his rent, went to Nancy feeling remarkably like a dog with its tail between its legs.
The next thing Jonathan knew, he was moving in.
It was a very bizarre living situation at first. Now, after being there two years, what’s actually bizarre is how… not bizarre it is.
Yeah, their apartment kind of is a shithole. It’s also pretty small, even with four bedrooms. But the rent is way cheaper than it was at his old place, and it’s closer to campus, and even though Jonathan thought it’d be a nightmare to live with three other people, he surprisingly doesn’t mind the company. It’s nice to have people always around, to know there’s always someone nearby who will help him grab groceries or listen to him bitch about the pretentious assholes in his photography classes or just leave him to the solitude of his bedroom when he wants to be on his own instead. He thinks it’s especially nice that it’s people who are from Hawkins, too, who know all the shit Jonathan’s been through. His old roommate was cool, but he gave Jonathan weird looks when he couldn’t sleep or jumped at a loud noise from outside. Nancy, Robin, and Steve just…get it.
And if Jonathan’s being honest, living with the three of them isn’t even that weird, not like Jonathan thought it would be. Sure, maybe things were a little awkward with Nancy when Jonathan first moved in – one memorable occasion where he nearly walked in on her in the bathroom and then avoided her for a week after comes to mind – but they aren’t like that anymore. Jonathan and Nancy broke up nearly five years ago, after all. Jonathan moved on long before he moved in with her, and there hasn’t been anything between them since, no flares of old feelings or charged, lingering moments. They’re friends – just friends, in a way that feels easier than Jonathan thought it would be.
Robin, on the other hand, took a little longer to warm up to Jonathan after he first moved in. But Jonathan always thought she seemed cool in that math class they had together, and it didn’t take long after Jonathan moved in to figure out they actually have a lot in common: they like the same movies, they listen to the same music, and they both enjoy making fun of Steve whenever he does something stupid.
And Steve –
Well, to say that Jonathan and Steve got off on the wrong foot back in high school would be grossly understating it. Jonathan had always written Steve off as a bully and a narcissistic asshole who had all the things Jonathan never would and didn’t even seem to care that he did. Steve redeemed himself in Jonathan’s eyes a little after he saved Jonathan and Nancy’s lives from the Demogorgon and then started helping out with the kids, though. And when the two of them were pretty much forced by circumstance to spend some one-on-one time together in the midst of that final fight against Vecna and the Mindflayer, Steve hadn’t been that bad. He’d even apologized for everything that went down when Jonathan was a sophomore – the alleyway fight and all the shit he’d said and breaking Jonathan’s camera – and Jonathan had acknowledged that he hadn’t exactly been a saint either and apologized for the pictures while admitting that maybe he’d sort of deserved getting his camera broken in the first place. So they’d left things off on okay terms, sure, but they still hadn’t been friends, and so yeah, maybe Jonathan had been dreading the idea of living in the same apartment as the guy.
So it’s surprising, really, how much Jonathan doesn’t mind it.
For one thing, it’s obvious Steve isn’t the same guy he was in high school. He probably hasn’t been that guy in a long time. And yeah, he’s still annoying, and he argues with Jonathan a lot, but it’s over stupid shit like pizza toppings or which of them was the last to take the trash out. Steve is also a surprisingly good roommate: he never eats anyone’s leftovers and he always puts his dishes in the dishwasher instead of leaving them in the sink. And also –
Well, Steve is actually, surprisingly, just…kind of a good guy in general. He has his bitchy moments, because sometimes he gets so worked up and irritated he just snaps, even if he doesn’t mean to, and he can be shockingly judgmental, because once a douchey jock, always a douchey jock, deep down, Jonathan supposes. But also…Steve just cares about people. He picks up Nancy’s favorite food for dinner when she’s stressed over an upcoming deadline, and he leaves Robin’s favorite movie playing on the TV when she’s had a bad day, and he’s just perceptive, like he can tell what people are feeling without them saying anything.
It’s not something Jonathan would’ve expected Steve Harrington to be. He especially wouldn’t have expected Steve to be perceptive about him. And half the time, Jonathan doesn’t even realize Steve’s doing it. But one second, Jonathan’s in his room stressed about a class or feeling suddenly guilty over Will being states away where anything could happen to him without Jonathan knowing, and the next thing Jonathan knows, Steve’s just there, popping into Jonathan’s room and asking him about his records or something, letting Jonathan talk until he’s completely forgotten what he was upset about in the first place.
Once, several months ago, when Jonathan had been particularly moody about a bad project grade or something, Steve appeared in Jonathan’s room to ask if he wanted to take a walk through Central Park, maybe take some pictures, and when they were there, Steve made some stupid joke about the ducks that Jonathan can’t even remember anymore, and when Jonathan snorted, Steve grinned at him.
“What?” Jonathan asked.
“Nothing,” Steve shrugged. “Just I had a bet with myself that I could make you laugh within, like, the first hour we were here.”
And then Steve had the audacity to check the time on his watch, and his grin widened as he showed the watch face to Jonathan. 3:51 PM, it said. They’d gotten to the park just after 3.
“Just barely made it,” Steve said, sounding smug, of all things.
Jonathan stared at Steve, then declared, “You’re an idiot.”
Steve’s grin widened even further. “Nah. You’re just annoyed that your whole angsty loner rep was threatened over a joke about ducks.”
And Jonathan rolled his eyes and turned away because he knew if he didn’t, Steve would see him start to grin, too.
Anyway – Steve just does those kinds of things. All the time. And it drives Jonathan crazy, that Steve can know the things that are eating away at Jonathan and just fix them, that Steve would even want to do that. But maybe that’s just what having friends – plural – is like. Maybe, that’s just what being friends with Steve Harrington is like.
It’s nice. Kind of. Sometimes.
Other times –
Bang.
Jonathan snaps his head up, then after a pause, pokes his head out of his room and into the hallway, just before another loud bang emerges from the other side of their apartment’s front door.
It could be someone trying to break in, technically. That happened a few months ago, and Nancy had shouted through the door that she had a gun if they tried anything, and then she’d actually gone and got her gun while Robin frantically tried to get her to calm down because in the end it’d just turned out to be some drunk guy who thought their apartment was his. But it’s one AM and Nancy and Robin are both asleep, so Jonathan just waits pensively, staring at the door, because yes, it could be someone trying to break in, but he’s pretty sure –
There’s a jingling noise from outside the apartment door, then the sound of something dropping, and then a muttered, “Shit.”
And, yeah. That’d be Steve.
Jonathan sighs, lifting himself out of his desk chair and creeping quietly toward the front door. When he opens it, he finds Steve crouched down on hands and knees, searching for something on the ground.
It isn’t until Jonathan clears his throat that Steve looks up, blinks, then says brightly, “Oh, hey, Jonathan.”
“Steve,” Jonathan sighs. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Dropped my keys,” Steve says, and then he honest-to-God pouts. “Help?”
Jonathan raises his eyebrows. “Are you drunk?”
Steve lifts his hand and pinches his fingers together. “Jus’ a little.”
“Jesus Christ,” Jonathan mutters, but he drops to crouch next to Steve anyway. It takes Jonathan approximately thirty seconds to find the keys, namely because they’re on the ground right next to Steve’s shoe, and Steve has been too busy uselessly lifting the doormat up and down over and over again to notice them. When Jonathan snatches them up, dangling them in front of Steve’s face, he finally looks up, then his face breaks into a smile.
“Thanks, Jonathan,” he says softly.
Jonathan stands up way too abruptly and clears his throat. “Alright, c’mon, let’s get inside. And try to stay quiet, alright? Nancy and Robin are still asleep.”
“’Kay,” Steve agrees, and the second he stands up, he falls into the doorjamb.
“Whoa,” Jonathan says, just barely managing to catch Steve by the arm before he falls off the doorjamb and onto the floor. “Are you okay?”
“Dizzy,” Steve mumbles after a moment, trying to right himself but mainly just leaning heavily into Jonathan’s side.
“How much did you drink?”
“A lot,” Steve says mournfully. “It’s those fucking substitutes, I swear. They ordered, like, five rounds of shots.”
Jonathan snorts. The thing is, this isn’t completely uncommon. Steve goes out for drinks with the other teachers at his school about once a month. He doesn’t get wasted every time, obviously, but as Steve likes to tell him, Raising the future generation is a tough fucking job, Byers, so evidently it isn’t out of the ordinary for him to get a little sloshed with his coworkers. It’s not the kind of social outing he’d expect from middle school teachers, yeah, but Jonathan doesn’t feel like he can begrudge Steve of it, not when Jonathan’s pretty sure these are the first real friends Steve has had outside of Robin – and himself and Nancy, he supposes – in a while.
Sure, it’d made him kind of uncomfortable the first few times – Jonathan doesn’t drink, and is pretty sure he never will – but it isn’t like Steve makes a regular thing of it. Besides, Steve isn’t anything like Lonnie when he’s drunk. Steve, apparently, is a very happy, goofy, and occasionally blunt person when he’s drunk.
It’s kind of annoying. But mostly it’s annoying that Jonathan doesn’t think it’s very annoying at all.
Jonathan says, “I didn’t realize teachers get that rowdy on nights out.”
Steve hums. “Yeah. Those kids are watching a movie tomorrow f’r sure.”
“Tomorrow is Sunday,” Jonathan reminds him.
“Oh.” Steve blinks, then smiles again. “Oh, yeah.”
Jonathan snorts again. “Look, let’s go get you some water, okay? Then you can brush your teeth, and then we’ll get you to bed.”
“Okay, Mom,” Steve says, making a face, but he lets Jonathan lead him into the kitchen anyway.
They get through Steve’s necessary before-bed tasks easily enough. Steve finishes the entire glass of water Jonathan hands him, and he only stumbles once on their way to the bathroom. He also wrinkles his nose when Jonathan proffers him his toothbrush with toothpaste on it, but he takes it and obediently brushes his teeth after Jonathan nudges him. It isn’t until they leave the bathroom and Steve tries to walk on his own toward his bedroom that he trips once more, leaving Jonathan to catch him again.
“Sorry,” Steve mumbles, swaying slightly.
“Oh my God,” Jonathan mutters. “Steve, seriously, why did you drink this much?”
“I don’t know. I’m sorry,” Steve says, and shit, he actually kind of sounds sad, suddenly.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Jonathan says as gently as he can manage.
“S’not,” Steve says, shaking his head. “I woke you up, an’ now you hafta take care ‘f me – ”
“Steve, I said it was fine,” Jonathan says, firmer. “You didn’t wake me up, alright? I was already awake.”
Steve wrinkles his nose. “Why were you awake?”
And he doesn’t feel like he can tell Steve it was because he knew Steve was out and he wanted to make sure he came back in one piece, so instead, Jonathan says, “I was working on a photography assignment,” which isn’t a lie, technically.
“Oh. What assignment?”
“It’s a contrast on lights and – ” Jonathan stops. “You know what, it doesn’t matter. Let’s just get you to bed, okay? Do you need help?”
Steve blinks at Jonathan. “Please?”
Jonathan glances away from Steve’s big, stupid brown eyes, then carefully slides an arm around Steve’s waist, pulling him close so that he’s leaning up against Jonathan’s side, and then steps out of the bathroom with Steve in tow, watching to make sure Steve’s keeping up with him.
“This okay?” Jonathan asks.
Steve sighs. His head leans onto Jonathan’s shoulder. “Yeah.”
“In the morning, I’m definitely reminding you that you couldn’t walk on your two feet without my help, you know.”
“S’probably fair,” Steve agrees, and ironically, that’s when he stumbles over his feet again, lurching to the side. “Whoa – ”
“Hey, whoa,” Jonathan says, gently pulling Steve back upright, bringing his arm back around Steve’s side as they continue to move toward Steve’s bedroom, slower this time. “You gotta be more careful, alright? C’mon, we’re almost there, I’ve got you.”
“Yeah, I know,” Steve mumbles drunkenly into Jonathan’s shoulder. “Y’always take care ‘f me.”
Jonathan snorts. “Yeah, well. Somebody’s got to.”
Steve hums. “W’nna take care ‘f you, too. Wish you’d let me.”
And this time, it’s Jonathan who nearly trips over his own feet.
“What?” he says.
When Jonathan glances at Steve, he isn’t looking at him. Instead, Steve’s head is bent down, brow furrowed in concentration as he focuses on moving his two feet, even though at this point, Steve is barely walking, just kind of letting Jonathan do all the work and drag him to his room. He thinks maybe Steve didn’t hear him at all, but then Steve slurs, “I dunno, you just – you, like, take care of everybody. Wish you’d…wish you’d let someone take care ‘f you, too.”
He turns his head onto Jonathan’s shoulder again, and his voice is right by Jonathan’s ear when he says, “Wish it was me.”
Jonathan’s heart starts pounding.
“Steve,” he manages after a moment. “You’re drunk.”
Steve glances up, blinking slowly at him. “So?”
“So you can’t just – ” Jonathan’s voice breaks off. His face feels very, very warm. “You can’t just say shit like that. You’re drunk.”
Steve huffs, then says petulantly, “Doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”
And – this is ridiculous. This entire situation is ridiculous. He’s dragging Steve across their apartment floor, whose breath reeks of cheap margaritas, while Steve says stupid things he doesn’t even mean, all because he’s completely fucking wasted.
So Jonathan doesn’t say anything back. Instead, he concentrates on getting Steve into his bedroom. Once they’re there, he deposits Steve onto his bed, trying to be gentle about it, but Steve kind of just lets go of Jonathan and falls face-first into his pillow, anyway, and then Jonathan has to abruptly turn away from him when he starts trying to unbutton his jeans and yank them off. Jonathan busies himself with grabbing some Advil and another glass of water from the kitchen instead, and when he returns to Steve’s room and sets both on the bedside table, he finds that Steve has successfully taken off his jeans and shirt, and is now sitting in bed wearing just his boxers and a thin undershirt.
“Hey,” Steve says, beaming up at Jonathan when he re-enters the room, and Jonathan’s face goes hot for reasons that are obviously unrelated to this.
“Alright, do you need anything else?” Jonathan asks him. “Or can I go to bed now?”
Steve blinks, then suddenly, he pouts again. “You don’t believe me.”
Jonathan frowns. “What?”
“What I said,” Steve says. “J’st now, in the hall. You don’t believe me.”
Jonathan shifts on his feet. “Steve – ”
“Jonathan,” Steve mocks back.
“Steve,” Jonathan says, voice firmer now. “You’re drunk. Alright? Just…go to sleep.”
“I don’t wanna,” Steve says, petulant again.
Jonathan rolls his eyes. “Well, I do, so I’m leaving. Good night, Steve.”
“Hey,” Steve says as Jonathan turns to go, and then he snatches Jonathan’s hand, effectively stopping Jonathan in his tracks.
Slowly, Jonathan turns back around, glancing skeptically down at their hands. “What are you doing?”
For a moment, Steve just looks up at him, looking so suddenly lucid and serious that Jonathan would’ve thought he was completely sober if he hadn’t been tripping over his own feet just minutes ago.
And then Steve says, “Sometimes, when you get upset, I want to hold your hands so they stop shaking.”
Jonathan goes completely, utterly still.
“Once, when you were in a bad mood, I spent like an hour trying to think of something I could say to get you to laugh,” Steve continues. Steve’s hand is still holding Jonathan’s, Steve’s fingers brushing just barely against his, like he’s trying to intertwine them but he’s not sober enough to figure out how to do it. “And sometimes – sometimes when I say something and it makes you smile, I feel like…I feel like I’ve won something, or something.”
Jonathan’s heart is pounding so hard that he thinks everyone in their apartment building might be able to hear it. He feels almost dizzy, both under the intensity of Steve’s stare and from the words he’s saying, and he’d almost swear this entire situation was a dream, that he’d fallen asleep on his desk and imagined Steve coming home late, were it not for the very real feeling of Steve’s hand in his.
Jonathan swallows. “Steve,” he starts.
“You make me really happy,” Steve says, eyelids blinking heavily. “D’you know that? Just bein’ with you an’ hanging out – it makes me really happy. And you don’t even know it. I think…I think if I could make you even half as happy as you make me, you’d still be, like. One of the happiest people in the world.”
And then Steve lets go of Jonathan’s hand and falls back against the bed, and before Jonathan can react, he hears Steve let out a loud snore.
Steve passed out. The fucking asshole passed out.
For a long moment, Jonathan just stands there, stunned. It feels like an out-of-body experience, like the past half hour happened not to him but to someone else. A part of him wants to laugh incredulously. Another part kind of wants to throw up.
Jonathan does neither. Instead, he turns sharply on his heel and marches from the room, shutting the door quietly behind him and heading straight to his own bedroom, where he collapses face-first into bed and buries his face in his pillow, ready to fall asleep and forget that any of tonight ever happened.
He ends up barely sleeping at all.
Jonathan wakes up in the morning and experiences about three seconds of beautiful, blissful, ignorant peace, before his conversation with Steve comes flooding back and completely jolts him out of that illusion.
Jonathan stares up at the ceiling for a moment, then buries his face in his hands and mutters, “Fuck.”
All he wants is to screw his eyes shut and attempt to go back to sleep. But he can’t. For one thing, he still has that assignment to finish, the one he didn’t finish last night because he was busy taking care of a drunken Steve Harrington. For another, he’s actually pretty hungry, because it’s just occurred to him that he forgot to make dinner last night. And for another thing, he should probably do the adult thing and talk to Steve and tell him –
Well, shit. He has no fucking clue what he’s going to tell Steve.
But it’ll be better to get it all over with first thing in the morning than spend the entire day dreading the conversation, so reluctantly, Jonathan lifts himself out of bed and wanders out into the hallway. It’s not yet ten AM, but he can already hear quiet voices emerging from the kitchen. He can’t tell what they’re saying, exactly, but he knows it’s Robin’s voice, and as Jonathan gets closer, he hears her say, “...you sure?”
And then he hears Steve respond, “Robin, you don’t get it. I was – ”
“Morning, Jonathan,” Robin says very loudly, right as Jonathan turns the corner, and Steve goes abruptly silent.
The two of them are sitting at the kitchen table, two mugs of coffee and a plate piled with pancakes sitting between them, and when Steve looks up at Jonathan, he blinks, hard, as though he somehow forgot Jonathan lived here, too.
“Uh,” Steve says after a long pause. “Morning.”
He looks like complete shit. There are bags under his eyes, and his hair is messier than Jonathan’s ever seen it. A hangover will do that to you, Jonathan supposes. At least Steve’s fully dressed, if a t-shirt and sweatpants count for that.
“Hey,” Jonathan says after an equally long pause. He shifts on his feet. “Uh, so – ”
“So, listen,” Steve interrupts. “Thanks for putting up with me last night.”
Jonathan freezes, glancing away from Steve to look at Robin, who has suddenly become very interested in adding sugar to her coffee.
“Um,” Jonathan says. “You’re…welcome?”
“No, seriously,” Steve says, looking down to add another pancake to his plate. “I had, like, a raging headache this morning. I barely even remember getting home last night.
Suddenly, there’s a sensation in Jonathan’s chest that feels remarkably like some vital organ has shriveled up and died.
“Oh,” Jonathan finally says.
Steve shoves a bite of pancake into his mouth. “So, yeah, like I said – thanks for putting up with me. I mean, I assume it was you that left water and Advil next to my bed last night. You know how Nancy is about getting her eight hours of sleep, and Robin probably would’ve just left me to die.”
Robin, for her part, says nothing. She just looks between Steve and Jonathan very cautiously.
“It’s fine,” Jonathan manages. “Don’t mention it.”
Steve grins up at him like everything is perfectly ordinary, and then he stands and starts heading towards the sink with his dishes, stepping around Jonathan completely. Not even their elbows brush.
“Well, anyway,” Steve as he dumps a nearly full mug of coffee into the sink and then rinses it out. “I’m gonna go ahead and go to the gym. Gotta defeat the hangover before it defeats me, and all that.”
“Oh,” Jonathan says again, dully. “Okay. See you…later.”
“Sure,” Steve calls over his shoulder as he heads toward the door. “Talk to you later, Rob.”
“Um,” Robin says.
And then Steve grabs his keys from where Jonathan left them last night on the hook in the foyer and heads out the front door, letting it fall shut behind him.
For a moment, Jonathan just stares after Steve, stunned, before he finally turns to Robin, who’s still sitting at the kitchen table.
“You know what?” Robin says, scraping her chair back. “I’m gonna go fold laundry.”
“What – ” Jonathan starts, but before he can get a full sentence out she’s already gone, headed into her room and shutting the door behind her, leaving Jonathan standing alone in the kitchen, staring at nothing.
That’s where Nancy finds him minutes or hours later, when she wanders into the kitchen already fully dressed in jeans and a shirt, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. “Morning,” she says as she passes him. “Where’s Robin?”
“Laundry,” Jonathan hears himself say.
“Huh,” Nancy says, and then she pauses, giving Jonathan a double take. “You okay? Why are you just standing there?”
“I have no idea,” Jonathan tells Nancy honestly.
Nancy’s eyebrows arch. “Okay…” She shakes her head, turning to grab her purse from where it’s hanging off one of the kitchen chairs. “Well, I was gonna go grab coffee, but you can come, if you want. Unless you’re too busy with…whatever it is you’re doing right now.”
And honestly, Jonathan should really go back to his room and work on his assignment. But the idea of being alone with his thoughts right now for even a second sounds like honest-to-God torture, and he’s still hungry, so instead, Jonathan shrugs. “Sure. Let’s get coffee.”
They go to the place that’s just down the street from their apartment – the place that Nancy, Robin, and Steve really like, but Jonathan thinks makes their coffee way too sweet – and Nancy orders an iced vanilla latte while Jonathan just orders a plain black coffee and a bagel, and when they’re sitting at their table, Nancy raises her eyebrows at him again and says, “You sure you’re okay? You look like you’re having a crisis.”
And to think Jonathan thought he’d spent this entire trip thus far effortlessly pretending everything was normal, like Steve Harrington hadn’t completely tilted Jonathan’s world off its axis last night.
“I’m always having a crisis,” Jonathan mutters in between bites of his bagel.
Nancy lifts her eyebrows. “You look more crisis-y than usual.”
“I’m fine,” Jonathan says, but then Nancy looks at Jonathan with that soul-searching, assessing gaze of hers, the one that has never failed to make Jonathan crack since 1983, and then he lowers his bagel and blurts out, “You know how Steve went out last night?”
“Yeah,” Nancy says after a pause, sounding surprised. “With his teacher friends, right?”
“Right,” Jonathan agrees. Nancy lifts her eyebrows, expectant. “Just…when he came home, he was pretty drunk, I guess.”
Nancy rolls her eyes. “God. Who knew teachers were so rowdy?”
“Apparently, it’s mostly the substitutes.”
“Yeah, that makes sense. They usually just make the students watch a movie anyway, right?”
“Right. Well, uh. Anyway. He was kind of drunk, and I was still awake, so I was helping him get to his room in one piece, and then he started saying…stuff.”
Suddenly, Nancy looks curious. “Stuff?” She repeats.
Jonathan shifts in his seat. “Yeah,” he says. “Like…you know. Stuff to me.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“He…” Jonathan suddenly looks down, then picks up his spoon to stir his coffee. “You know what? Nevermind. It was really nothing.”
“Jonathan,” Nancy says exasperatedly. “Come on. You can’t just start to tell me something and then change your mind.”
“Alright, alright, fine,” Jonathan mutters. “I…he…”
And Jonathan thinks about how big and brown Steve’s eyes were last night, about Steve saying he wants to take care of him, of Steve telling Jonathan he makes him happy, and then blurts out, “I think Steve, um, has, like. Feelings? For me?”
Nancy is quiet for a long moment, her brows drawn together. Jonathan expects her to be surprised, or confused, or for her not to believe him. A part of him even wonders if she’s going to be upset; Steve is her ex, after all, and so is Jonathan, so it’d only make sense if she had some complicated feelings about the situation.
Nancy doesn’t do anything of those things, however. Instead, she blinks, then says, “Wait…are you just realizing this now?”
Jonathan stares at her. “What?”
Nancy has the decency to look sheepish, glancing down as she quickly becomes interested in twirling her straw around her iced coffee cup. “I’m sorry, it's just…well, this whole time, I kind of thought you already knew and just hadn’t said anything because you wanted to spare his feelings?”
Jonathan blinks, hard.
“What?” He says again.
“Jonathan,” Nancy says, and when she looks back up at him, she almost looks sympathetic. “I mean…come on. it’s been obvious for a while now, hasn’t it? The first word of half of the sentences that come out of his mouth is Jonathan. Well, unless it’s Robin, but…you know what I mean. And I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Haven’t you?”
And, actually…Jonathan has. Sometimes, when Jonathan looks over at Steve while they’re at the kitchen table, eating takeout on the couch, or walking through Central Park, he’ll find Steve already looking back at him with this odd expression that makes Jonathan immediately look away. He’s noticed. He just never once let himself think it could mean what Nancy evidently thinks it means.
“Shit,” Jonathan says distantly.
“Yeah,” Nancy deadpans. “Shit.”
Jonathan groans. “Fuck, Nancy. I – what do I do?”
Nancy arches her eyebrows. “I’m sorry, are you seriously asking your ex for relationship advice right now?”
“It’s not relationship advice,” Jonathan grumbles. “I just…I don’t know. I mean, you guys dated for like a year, so I thought maybe…”
“So you thought I could give you Steve-specific relationship advice,” Nancy finishes for him.
Jonathan’s face burns. “Look, I just don’t know what to do about this, alright? We live together. It’s going to be awkward as fuck if I talk to him about it but it’s going to be awkward as fuck if neither of us address it at all, and I don’t know which would be worse.”
Nancy sighs exasperatedly. “Jesus, Jonathan.”
“What?” Jonathan says defensively.
“Look,” Nancy says. “What do you want to do?”
“I don’t know,” Jonathan mumbles. “I’m torn between creating a time machine to make it so this never happened or changing my name and moving across the country.”
“What, you’re that scared of the idea of Steve having feelings for you?”
Jonathan frowns. “I – what? No.”
“Then what is it?” Nancy says, and when Jonathan doesn’t answer, she says, “How do you feel about him, anyway?”
Jonathan’s face feels warm. “I don’t – we’re just friends.”
“Okay,” Nancy says, sounding almost skeptical. She hesitates. “Is it…because he’s a guy?”
Jonathan fidgets, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. “I – ”
“Shit, sorry,” Nancy says, looking genuinely guilty. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have even asked that. It’s none of my business, and you don’t have to – ”
“No, it’s fine,” Jonathan says. He looks down at his coffee, stirring his spoon again, then blows out a breath. “I don’t – I don’t know.”
And he doesn’t, really. He’s never even thought about guys like that before. How could he, when he’s spent the entirety of his life having better things to worry about, like his mom and his brother and not dying at age seventeen from an interdimensional monster attack? And besides, he had Nancy. Even before they were dating, Jonathan had always sort of liked her – they’d known each other since they were kids, and she was the prettiest and smartest girl in their grade, so of course he did. And then once they were dating, Jonathan thought they were going to spend the rest of their lives together, and that was that.
Except for not really. Now they aren’t even together anymore. Now Jonathan has moved on, and now that Nancy’s brought it up…well, okay, maybe it isn’t true that he’s never thought about guys before. Like, maybe there was actually a reason Jonathan concentrated really hard on not looking at anyone else when he was in the changing room before gym class in high school. Or maybe there was a reason Jonathan always paid a bit too much attention to the careful, precise movements of Argyle’s fingers as they rolled a blunt back in Lenora Hills. Or maybe there was a reason that during his fight with Steve his sophomore year when he was hanging over Steve and his legs were straddling Steve’s waist, Jonathan had felt such a sharp, unexpected burst of anger, not because of all the shit Steve said but because something about being close to Steve like that had felt –
“It’s okay if you don’t know, you know,” Nancy says, and Jonathan guiltily shoves that train of thought away. “You don’t have to. And…if you just think of Steve as a friend…that’s fine, too. Steve will get over it, probably. Just…you know. You should probably tell him.”
Jonathan lifts his eyebrows. “You know, you’re being remarkably chill about this.”
Nancy lifts her eyebrows back. “What, with you and Steve?”
“Well. Yeah,” Jonathan says, and when Nancy just looks confused, he says, “I mean. we’re your exes. Isn’t this weird?”
Nancy snorts. “No, yeah, it’s definitely weird. But I haven’t dated either of you in years, Jonathan. We’re friends. Hell, we’re roommates. And I’ve already moved on with someone else, so – ”
“Wait,” Jonathan says, surprised. “You’re dating someone?”
Nancy goes still, as if she hadn’t meant to say that part out loud. “Did I say someone? I meant – ”
“Uh-uh,” Jonathan says, shaking his head. “C’mon, now you have to tell me.”
“Jonathan – ”
“Hey, there,” says their waitress, appearing by their table out of nowhere. “Do you two need anything else?”
“Just the check, thanks,” Nancy says, smiling politely at her.
“Sure, no problem,” says the waitress, dashing off.
“Okay, so, anyway,” Nancy says, before Jonathan can say anything. “What are you gonna do about this whole fiasco, exactly?”
Jonathan sighs, slumping in his chair. “I don’t know. Apparently, Steve was so drunk he doesn’t even remember it. That’s what he said this morning.”
“And you believe that?”
Jonathan shifts in his seat and glances away from her. “I just – I want to pretend like this whole thing never happened. Is that an option? Can I do that?”
Nancy chews on her bottom lip, then sighs. “Look. To be completely honest with you, I would love nothing more than to have nothing to do with this. Because frankly, this doesn’t concern me whatsoever, and also, I’d like to have nothing to do with either of your love lives ever again, no offense.”
“Uh, okay, offense, actually,” Jonathan mutters under his breath.
“But, if you want my honest opinion…” Nancy hesitates, then confesses, “I think you should learn from my mistakes, and at the very least, talk to him. And be honest. Even if you know you’re going to say something he doesn’t want to hear.”
Jonathan blinks. He wonders if she’s thinking about her and Steve’s blow-up in the bathroom at the Halloween party their sophomore year, the one that led to Steve cornering Jonathan and asking him to take Nancy home, the one that led to Jonathan and Nancy indirectly getting together in the first place. Regardless – he knows she’s right. Talking to Steve would make things easier for both of them at the very least.
But what would Jonathan say? Thanks for drunkenly bearing your heart and soul to me, but I think we should stay friends? Would he just have to stand there and watch Steve’s eyes get all big and sad again, and –
“And besides,” Nancy continues. “I think we’ve both learned the hard way that ignoring a problem and not communicating isn’t exactly the best thing for a relationship, no?”
Jonathan doesn’t wince, exactly, but it’s a near thing.
Still – he knows she’s right.
“Okay,” Jonathan sighs. “I’ll talk to him.”
“Good,” Nancy says primly, right as their waitress arrives with their check, and when she sets it on the table and walks away, Nancy nods down at it and says, “That’s my fee for acting as your couple’s counselor, by the way.”
Jonathan rolls his eyes but dutifully pulls out his wallet anyway.
Jonathan intends to talk to Steve about it. Honestly, he really does.
And then…he just, kind of doesn’t.
At first, Jonathan tells himself it’s because there’s never a good time. It’s the end of the semester at Steve’s school, so he spends a week locked in his room grading his students’ stuff. And then it’s finals week for Jonathan, too, and he spends a week locked in his room finishing up assignments. And then it’s the holidays, and he and Nancy are carpooling back to Hawkins to see their families, and when they come back in January, Steve just – he acts so fucking normal around him that Jonathan actually thinks that maybe Steve really doesn’t remember it. And if Steve doesn’t remember, then it’s not like Jonathan can bring it up now. What the hell would he even say? Hey, I know you don’t remember the shit you said when you were super intoxicated, but I’m gonna remind you of your moment of vulnerability anyway just to clear the air so I can reject you.
Yeah, there’s no way in hell.
So – Jonathan follows Steve’s lead and pretends like everything’s normal, too. Jonathan picks up everyone’s order from the Chinese place down the street and sits next to Steve on the couch while they’re watching a movie with Nancy and Robin, like normal. Steve picks up Jonathan’s regular coffee order and leaves it sitting for him on the kitchen counter so Jonathan can take it to class in the mornings, like normal. He and Steve take trips to the record store or walk around Central Park when they get too tired of hanging around the apartment, like normal. Like nothing ever happened at all.
Jonathan feels like he’s going to explode.
Nancy has made her disapproval of Jonathan’s silence very clear if the pointed glances she sends him nearly every time he and Steve are in the same room together are any indication. Robin keeps giving him looks, too, actually, or exchanging them with Nancy, which doesn’t even make sense, given she shouldn’t even know there’s anything to give Jonathan looks over.
But fuck, what else is Jonathan supposed to do? Things are okay, just like this, but if he talks to Steve, things will be awkward in ways Jonathan isn’t sure they’ll be able to come back from. And the truth is –
The truth is that living with Steve, Nancy, and Robin in their shitty four-bedroom apartment is the happiest Jonathan has been in years. Maybe ever. So is it so wrong? That he’s keeping a secret just so he can keep something good for himself for once in his life?
Selfishly, he doesn’t think so. Still, there are times he thinks about the things Steve said that night and feels like it’s eating away at him. Because how could Steve feel that way about him and say those things to him and then pretend like everything’s fine the morning after if he really meant them?
And maybe that’s the answer. Maybe Steve didn’t mean them. He was drunk, after all; he probably didn’t even know what he was saying. And someone flirts with Steve almost every time they’re out in public, so why in the world would someone like Steve Harrington ever have feelings for Jonathan when he could have literally anyone else? And sure, maybe Nancy seems to think Steve has some kind of feelings for Jonathan, but what the hell does Nancy know? She isn’t always right about everything. She’s only right about things, like…90% of the time.
And if Jonathan’s honest, what’s really eating away at him isn’t just the idea of Steve having feelings for him. It’s the things Steve said. Because it’d be one thing if he’d confessed he liked Jonathan, or he thought he was hot, or something stupid and ridiculous like that. If that’s all Steve had said, Jonathan would’ve waved it off as drunken rambling and never thought about it again. Instead, Steve had leaned his head on Jonathan’s shoulder and looked up at him with those big, brown eyes and told him he wanted to take care of him, that he wanted to hold his hands so they stopped shaking and make him laugh and smile and –
And it just doesn’t make sense. That Steve could feel that much for Jonathan, especially without Jonathan even knowing. There was something so unconditional about it, and that’s what eats away at Jonathan the most.
He isn’t used to unconditionality, is the thing. He’s pretty sure people started expecting things from him the moment he was born, and if he’s being honest, that’s probably what doomed his relationship with Nancy in the end. Sure, the long distance and the miscommunication had a lot to do with it, but it wasn’t just that. The truth was that as much as Jonathan loved Nancy and as much as Nancy loved him, by the end Nancy had just become another person Jonathan had to be someone for. A good son, a good brother, a good boyfriend – it was too much.
And that wasn’t Nancy’s fault. If it was anyone’s, it was probably Jonathan’s. But that doesn’t change the fact that that’s what their relationship felt like to him — like a chore. And even if the breakup had been hard at first, he realizes now it’s probably the best thing they could’ve done for both of them; the friendship he and Nancy have now is something Jonathan wouldn’t trade for anything. And sure, maybe if things were slightly different, like if Jonathan had never moved to California, they’d still be together now. Or, maybe he and Nancy were always meant to just be friends, people who confide in each other, who slay monsters and take down government labs together, who share an apartment and grab a coffee and visit bookstores on the weekend, not people who owe each other a level of responsibility that Jonathan never quite felt like he met.
But the problem is – Jonathan’s never felt that kind of responsibility with Steve. With Steve, he can shoot the shit while they’re traversing through Central Park or complain about the TA in his photography class or make fun of Steve’s top 40 music taste and then give him recommendations for actually good music when they’re at the record store. With Steve, he’s only ever been just…Jonathan.
And that night when Steve was drunk, the night Steve said all those things – it eats away at him, but not all the time. Sometimes, Jonathan pulls out the memory of everything Steve said and the way his voice had sounded as he’d said it and the way he’d looked up at Jonathan in the dim light of his bedroom and Jonathan feels –
Well, anyway. It doesn’t matter. Steve doesn’t even remember any of it, or is at least committed to pretending not to. It’s clear he’s never going to bring it up, and that’s fine. If Steve isn’t going to bring it up, then Jonathan just won’t, either. It’s okay. Things are fine.
And they stay that way for about two months, which is exactly when Jonathan goes and fucks everything up.
Jonathan’s alone in his room, working furiously on an assignment when he hears the front door to their apartment open. Several minutes later he hears his own bedroom door open, right before Steve pokes his head in the room and says, “Hey. Whatcha doing?”
“Assignment,” Jonathan mutters distractedly.
“Oh, cool,” Steve says. “Where’s Nance and Robin?”
“Hmm?” Jonathan mutters, only half paying attention.
“Nancy and Robin,” Steve repeats. “They’re not here.”
Jonathan does actually pause this time, glancing up at Steve with a frown. “Oh. Huh. I didn’t notice.”
“Well, that’s not like you.”
Jonathan rolls his eyes, turning back to his desk. “They’re probably out, or something.”
“Figures,” Steve sighs. “Well, I’m kinda hungry, so I’m gonna make a late-night snack. Thinking of mac and cheese. You want some?”
“No thanks,” Jonathan says automatically, and then he glances up at Steve. “Wait, late-night ?”
“Yeah, dude. It’s like almost midnight.”
Jonathan pauses. “Huh.”
Steve’s brow furrows. “Did you…not know what time it was?”
Jonathan hunches his shoulders and turns back to his desk. “I’ve been busy.”
“What the hell, how long have you been working on that thing?” Steve asks, and the answer is since at least lunchtime, but Jonathan isn’t sure that’s something he should actually admit out loud, so instead he says nothing. “What even are you working on, anyway?”
“I told you. Assignment.”
“And when’s it due?”
“Not until next week, but – ”
“Jonathan.”
“But it’s due the day before Will’s birthday, when I’m gonna be spending the day driving back to Hawkins, so I need to turn it in by at least Wednesday.”
“Yeah, which is still four days away.”
“Yeah, and I’ve only just started it today, and it’s this stupid eight-page photo analysis essay that’s gonna be a ridiculously huge part of my final grade, for some reason, and I’m busy with classes and work during the week, so I need to finish as much of this as I can today and tomorrow.”
Steve scoffs. “Jonathan, come on. Would it be the end of the world if you turned it in on the day it’s due and drove down for Will’s birthday a day later?”
Jonathan lifts his eyebrows at Steve in disbelief. “It’s a ten-hour drive to Hawkins, Steve. By the time I actually got there, his birthday would be practically over.”
Steve rolls his eyes. “I’m pretty sure your brother would be happy you drove ten hours to see him regardless. I doubt he’d care which day he actually saw you.”
Jonathan shakes his head, turning back to his desk. “You wouldn’t get it.”
He sees Steve wince out of the corner of his eye, and a heavy, guilty feeling drops in his chest almost immediately.
“Sorry,” Jonathan mumbles. “I didn’t mean to – I’m sorry.”
Jonathan risks a glance over at Steve, but Steve just looks across the room at Jonathan for a long time. Finally, Steve sighs. “I just don’t understand why you can’t take a quick break, just for one second.”
“Look, I’m almost at a stopping place. I’ll finish up in an hour and eat something really quick before I go to bed and I’ll take it easier tomorrow, alright?”
“No you won’t,” Steve says, shaking his head. “You’re gonna keep working on this until you go to sleep, and you’re gonna do the same exact thing tomorrow.”
And Jonathan hates that. He hates that Steve knows him that well, that he managed to crawl under Jonathan’s defenses that easily without Jonathan even noticing.
“Jonathan, come on,” Steve continues. “I get this is important, but you don’t need to work yourself into an early grave over an assignment that isn’t even due for a week. You’re not gonna fail if you take a quick break, just once. I just wish you’d relax for like, ten minutes and let me make you some shitty microwaved mac and cheese, or whatever.”
“Why?” Jonathan demands, and before Steve can say anything, he continues, “Because you want to take care of me?”
Steve freezes. And it’s then, in the abrupt silence of his bedroom, that Jonathan knows for sure that Steve remembers. That he knows exactly what Jonathan is referring to. Probably, that he never even forgot in the first place.
Not that it matters in the slightest, but Jonathan wants to take the words back almost instantly. He hadn’t even meant to say them out loud in the first place. But he’d been angry and frustrated, and it’d slipped out, and so now Jonathan has taken what Steve said to him in a moment of vulnerability, things he’d said with more earnest tenderness than Jonathan has ever heard in Steve’s voice, and hurled them back in Steve’s face like they were a bomb he was just waiting to deploy.
Jonathan’s heart is suddenly pounding, and he kind of wants to sink into the floor and die.
“So,” Steve says after a long pause. “You remember that, huh?”
The expression on his face is carefully, horribly neutral. It’s the same mask Steve used to wear in high school, pretending to be cool, like he was a normal guy who knew nothing about alternate dimensions. He still gets that look sometimes after a bad phone call with his parents. Jonathan has always hated that look. He hates it even more now that he knows the real Steve hiding beneath it.
“I was sober, remember?” Jonathan says finally, even as a voice inside his head chants, Stop talking, stop talking, stop talking. “You were the one who was so wasted you acted like you didn’t even know what you were saying and pretended like everything was normal the next day.”
Steve shrugs, like he’s unaffected. “Yeah, well. I only remembered the embarrassing parts.”
So, all of it, Jonathan thinks.
This, thankfully, he doesn’t say out loud.
“So,” Steve says again. “How long have you been waiting to throw that back in my face?”
Jonathan works his jaw but doesn’t answer.
“Seriously,” Steve continues, his expression still flat, but his voice rising in pitch. “I mean, were you just waiting until I really pissed you off to bring it up? As some sort of punishment, or whatever?”
“That isn’t what this is.”
“Oh really? Then tell me what this is, Jonathan. I mean, I’d fucking love to know.”
Jonathan barks out a humorless laugh. “I’m not doing this with you right now.”
“Seriously?” Steve says, but Jonathan’s already shoving his desk chair back, marching from his bedroom and out into the living room, no idea where the hell he’s going, just eager to be anywhere but here.
Steve laughs incredulously from behind him. “God , you are such a fucking coward, you know that?”
Jonathan whirls around. “Excuse me?”
Steve has stepped out of Jonathan’s room, too, facing Jonathan from across the living room, his expression no longer neutral but angry. “You knew this whole time,” he accuses. “You could’ve brought it up hundreds of times by now, and you never did. You just pretended like things were normal, like we were — ”
“Are you serious?” Jonathan demands. “I didn’t pretend anything, Steve! You did! Fuck, you pretended like you didn’t even remember it happening!”
“I know, alright? And I’m — ” Steve takes a deep, heavy breath. “I’m sorry.”
Jonathan blinks.
“I was just trying to… fuck, I don’t know. I just wanted the ball to be in your court,” Steve says. “I was the one who messed up, so I thought it was only fair if you got to decide how you wanted to talk about it and where we went from there. And when you never said anything, I thought…I thought, Well, there’s my answer.”
“Steve — ”
“But now here you are,” Steve continues, gesturing furiously at Jonathan. “Throwing it back in my face and walking away when I try to talk to you talk about it, because you’re still too fucking scared to actually acknowledge that any of it even happened.”
“Oh, whatever. You still pretended that morning. You lied. You made me think you didn’t even remember,” Jonathan says. “And I’m not scared.”
“Yeah, I might actually believe that if you could look me in the eyes when you said it.”
Jonathan forces himself to look up, meeting Steve’s eyes across the few feet of the carpet separating them. Somehow, the space seems smaller than it did just a minute ago.
“I’m not,” Jonathan repeats, and forces his voice to sound even as he says it.
Steve looks back at Jonathan for a long time, saying nothing, and then he sighs, heavy and almost defeated.
“Look,” Steve begins, his voice quieter, less angry now. “I thought about being the one to bring it up, after that morning. More than once. Just to…clear the air, or whatever. But you never mentioned it. You just kept pretending like everything else was normal, and well, what else was I supposed to do? I was embarrassed, Jonathan. I mean, fuck, do you think I wanted to say all that shit to you?”
Jonathan stares. It feels, for a moment, like he’s just been doused over the head with a bucket of cold water. “So, what? You didn’t even mean it?”
Steve frowns. “What?”
“What do you mean, what? You just said you didn’t even want to say it and you were so fucking drunk off your ass in the first place, that, what? You said all that shit and didn’t even mean it?”
“Jonathan,” Steve says, taking a step forward. “ I fucking meant it. Alright?”
Jonathan goes very still. Steve’s gaze flickers across his face, looking for a sign of something, and Jonathan feels pinned underneath it, has to fight the urge to look away. The living room really does feel much smaller than before, he thinks.
“Well?” Steve says finally. “Are you going to say something?”
Jonathan swallows. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
Steve laughs incredulously, dragging his hands down his face. “Jesus, Jonathan, anything. I want you to say literally anything.”
“Well, I don’t know, alright?” Jonathan snaps. “It’s — I’m — I’m trying to process!”
“What the hell do you need to process?”
“Are you serious? Do you have any idea how fucking terrifying it feels to realize someone loves you that much?”
Steve freezes almost immediately, and then Jonathan does, too.
“Shit,” Jonathan swears under his breath. “I didn’t mean — ”
“I thought you said you weren’t scared,” Steve interrupts.
It takes Jonathan a moment to realize what Steve’s referring to. It’s funny — Steve doesn’t look angry at him. He doesn’t even look like he’s going to deny Jonathan’s accusation. He looks, almost, caught.
Jonathan swallows. “I lied,” he admits.
Steve, to Jonathan’s surprise, snorts. A beat of silence passes before Steve asks, “Is that really what you’ve felt like, this whole time? Terrified?”
Jonathan wants to say yes. Despite the guilty feeling clogging his throat, Jonathan wants to say yes, because that is what it’s felt like. Jonathan has been spiraling over that night for two months now — trying to make sense of it, trying to cope with the idea of someone caring about him like that, of them caring so unconditionally. Add to it that someone was Steve Harrington, and fuck, of course, it felt terrifying.
But the truth is that it doesn’t always feel that way. The truth is that there were moments — rare moments, but still moments — where Jonathan had been stressed about finals or worried about his family so far away or feeling like he just wasn’t doing enough, where he’d thought about everything Steve had said to him in his drunken stupor and felt not terrified, but…comforted, almost. There had been moments where Jonathan crawled into bed after a difficult day and, in the privacy of his bedroom, played back that night like developing a film reel in the darkroom, and thought, nonsensical and half-asleep, Well, there’s still Steve.
So when Jonathan does finally answer, all he can manage is a hoarse, “I don’t know.”
Steve looks at Jonathan for a long moment. “It doesn’t feel that way for me, you know,” he says, his voice quiet.
Jonathan’s throat feels dry. He really can’t remember when he and Steve started standing this close together.
“How does it feel?” Jonathan asks.
“I don’t know,” Steve says. And then, “Sometimes it’s scary. And…inconvenient, honestly.”
Jonathan snorts in surprise.
“But sometimes,” Steve continues. “It…feels good. I guess.”
Jonathan swallows. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Steve echoes. He rubs the back of his neck. “Just…I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m kinda a hopeless romantic?”
Jonathan feels the bizarre urge to smile. He bites down on it. “Yeah. I’ve noticed.”
“Right,” Steve says. “So, yeah. I guess I’m just…used to the feeling. And it’s — it’s been you for so long that I guess I just started feeling…comfortable with it.”
“Steve — ”
“I feel comfortable with you,” Steve continues, his eyes big and brown and serious, like a stupid baby deer or something. “More comfortable than I do with — with anyone. Well, except for Robin. And Dustin, sometimes. But that’s different. Because, like…you already saw the worst of me in high school, and you still stick around anyway. And with everyone else I always feel like I have to impress them or pretend, just so they’ll stick around, but I don’t — I don’t feel that way with you.”
“Steve, I'm - ”
“I just like hanging out with you,” Steve mumbles, dropping his eyes. “It — I don’t know, Jonathan, it just makes me…like, happy, and stuff. And I just want to make you feel that way, too. I want — ”
“Steve, you do!” Jonathan bursts out. “Okay? Is that what you want to hear? You already fucking do, Steve!”
Steve falls silent, his eyes widening, and Jonathan, suddenly, isn’t sure he meant to say that out loud.
“I…That’s…” Steve’s gaze roves across Jonathan’s face. “Really?”
Jonathan’s first instinct is to take it back. But what would be the point? It’s true, isn’t it? Jonathan is happy in New York. And that’s for a lot of reasons: because he lives in a city with art museums and record stores and millions of people who are cool and interesting and almost never as small-minded as the people Jonathan left behind in Hawkins. Because his apartment is just a quick walk from the best bagel place in the city. Because Nancy studies with him on late nights in the library and goes to bookstores with him on the weekends. Because Robin listens to him talk about the cinematography in movies they both like for thirty minutes straight before she goes on about the characterization and directing and plot for just as long. Because the three of them and Steve spend most of their nights squeezed on the couch, watching movies and complaining about people they remember from Hawkins that they’ll probably never have to see again.
He’s happy because of all of those things. But he’s also happy because of Steve. He’s happy because Steve can make the best grilled cheese Jonathan’s ever had and always gives Jonathan the first plate if Robin doesn’t beat him to it. He’s happy because whenever the four of them watch movies together, Steve comes up with the funniest under-his-breath commentary, even when he doesn’t understand what’s actually going on in the movie. He’s happy because Steve goes grocery shopping with him and takes him to the park and picks up coffee for him in the morning and is always, always persistently and unflinchingly there. Jonathan is happy for a lot of reasons, but so many of them are Steve.
So, finally, reluctantly, Jonathan says hoarsely, “Yeah. You do. All the fucking time.”
“Jonathan,” Steve says, taking a step toward him.
Jonathan steps back almost automatically. “But I — Steve, I can’t. Alright?”
Steve comes to an abrupt stop. “What do you mean, you can’t?”
“I mean, I can’t just — I can’t just be this for you, alright?” Jonathan snaps.
Steve makes a frustrated noise. “What are you even talking about, Jonathan? I don’t want you to be anything. I just want you.”
He says it so casually. As if that’s in any way a normal thing to say. As if Jonathan’s heart doesn’t stammer in his chest just from hearing it.
Steve sighs. “Look. I don’t know why you’re under some sort of impression that this is transactional for me. I mean, childhood trauma, if I had to guess — ”
“Hey,” Jonathan says, offended.
“But it isn’t like that for me,” Steve continues. “I just like you. And I’m not expecting — I mean, I’m not gonna force you to say something you don’t mean. So if you — if you don’t want me back, then. Well, yeah, it’ll kinda fucking suck, but — it’s okay, Jonathan. It really is.”
And Jonathan wants to scream, because what a stupid, self-sacrificing thing to say, to tell Jonathan it’s fine if he wants Jonathan and Jonathan doesn’t want him back, because — because —
Because, if Jonathan is being painfully fucking honest with himself, that isn’t the problem. The problem, really, is that Jonathan doesn’t know how to let Steve want him.
Except — that isn’t entirely true, is it? Because now that Jonathan’s thinking about it — really, really thinking about it — he has been letting Steve take care of him. The very thing Steve confessed to wanting, the very thing Jonathan felt so scared of — Steve has been doing that for Jonathan this whole time, and Jonathan has let him. Jonathan lets Steve distract him from stressful assignments. He lets Steve take him to the park. He lets Steve tell stupid jokes that make him smile or laugh. He lets Steve do things like that all the time, and of course, he’s realized before that Steve was trying to help him or make him feel better in so many of those instances, but it’s only now he’s realizing the full extent of it.
And the thing is, taking care of people is Steve’s thing. Jonathan observes people all the time, but Steve is the one that’s actually good with them. Steve knows what makes people tick in ways Jonathan has never been able to figure out and knows exactly what to do to fix them, too. The problem is, Jonathan thinks Steve has a tendency to take care of others before he takes care of himself. After all, how many times in Hawkins did Steve get his face pounded in only to pretend like he was just fine afterward? How many times did Steve wave away concerns about his own injuries to take care of the kids? Too many times to count, probably.
It’s something that’s always frustrated Jonathan about Steve, but Jonathan knows he’s the same way. He’s pretty much been putting his family’s needs before his own since he came out of the womb. Leaving them behind to come to New York — that was a big step for him, one he still isn’t always sure is the right one. And it’s a burden to care for other people like that. As guilty as it makes Jonathan feel to even think it, as much as he’d do it all again and again if it meant Will was safe and okay, that’s exactly what it feels like sometimes: a burden.
But the problem is — it isn’t just his family that Jonathan tries to take care of. He takes care of Steve, too. A lot, actually. Jonathan always picks up Steve’s favorite kind of cereal when he goes to the store, even though it’s the gross sugary kind that Jonathan never eats. Jonathan always throws Steve’s dirty clothes in with his own when he’s doing laundry and there’s enough room in this hamper. Hell, the only reason Jonathan was even awake the night Steve came home drunk and this whole thing started was because he knew Steve was out with friends and Jonathan wanted to make sure he came home safe.
And Steve isn’t Jonathan’s responsibility. Jonathan didn’t have to do any of those things for Steve at all. But he did, and none of it ever felt like a burden, not once, because —
Because Jonathan had wanted to do them.
Oh, Jonathan thinks distantly.
“Well?” Steve says now. His voice sounds expectant, but his gaze is carefully hesitant as it flickers across Jonathan’s face, as if he’s trying to gauge his reaction. “C’mon, Jonathan. At least say something.”
Jonathan takes a deep heavy breath.
“Steve,” he starts quietly, shaking his head. “I — I just — all those things you said, everything you said you want, I don’t — I can’t. I can’t measure up to all of that for you.”
Steve blinks, and then his face softens. And maybe this — being looked at like that by Steve Harrington — should feel terrifying, just like so much has felt since that night Steve came home three months ago.
It is terrifying, partly. And yet, there is a small, distant part of Jonathan that wonders if it isn’t what Steve had drunkenly described that’s been terrifying him all these months, but the idea of Jonathan wanting all those things, too.
“Jonathan,” Steve says quietly. “You already do.”
Jonathan’s breath hitches in his throat. “Steve,” he starts.
“And I get it, if you’re scared,” Steve continues, taking a small step toward him. “This is new for me, too.”
“Steve,” Jonathan tries again.
“And yeah, I’m sure it seems like this is all happening really fast, like it’s all coming out of the blue, but — but it’s not, for me. I think a small part of me has had feelings for you since I bought that stupidly expensive camera back in high school, so — this isn’t, like, going away for me. Trust me, I’ve tried.”
“Steve — ”
“You make me better, Jonathan,” Steve continues earnestly. “I don’t even know the person I’d be right now if you hadn’t handed my ass to me my junior year. And so that’s what I’m trying to tell you — I don’t need anything from you, not when you’ve already given me so much, not when — ”
Finally, Jonathan gives up on trying to get a word in edgewise. Instead, he steps forward, grips the front of Steve’s shirt, and kisses him.
For a moment, Steve stands still, and it’s just Jonathan kissing him, his face tilted up toward Steve to meet his height, their mouths firmly pressed together. And then in the next second, Steve melts, taking Jonathan’s face into his hands and bringing him impossibly closer and kissing him back, and as it turns out, the Hawkins High hallway gossip was actually right. Steve Harrington really is a phenomenally good kisser.
I should’ve done this to shut him up months ago, Jonathan thinks distantly, and then he just kind of stops thinking at all.
It’s minutes or hours later when Jonathan finally pulls away, and Steve’s eyes flutter open, blinking down at Jonathan, slow and lethargic, like his brain is still coming back online.
“Yeah?” Steve says finally, and he looks so hesitantly hopeful that Jonathan’s throat feels momentarily tight.
“Yeah,” Jonathan echoes. And this, probably, is the moment where he should say something eloquent. Steve has done nearly all the talking this whole time; surely it’s Jonathan’s turn, time for him to start pulling his weight, for him to say something to assure Steve that it isn’t just him. But when Jonathan opens his mouth, he just says, lamely, “I, uh. Want to take care of you, too.”
It’s not romantic. Or at least, it doesn’t sound very romantic, given Jonathan stutters through saying it. It certainly isn’t a declaration of the same caliber as any of Steve’s. But Steve’s expression softens completely like it’s the most romantic thing he’s ever heard, anyway, and Jonathan feels heat rise to his face almost immediately.
“I have no idea what I’m doing here,” Jonathan adds quickly. “Just, by the way.”
Steve lets out a scoff. “And you think I do?”
“I’m just saying, it's — we have some really rocky history, and we've been roommates for two years, so we're already doing everything in the wrong order. And you’ve been on millions of dates, and I’ve only ever dated one person, who also lives with us, by the way — ”
“What, Nancy? ” Steve says in disbelief. “That’s what you’re worried about?”
“I’m not worried,” Jonathan mutters. “I’m just…mildly concerned. She’s our ex, so — ”
“Oh, please. Nancy’s long moved on,” Steve says with an eye roll. “She and Robin have been hooking up in secret for like five months now.”
Jonathan blinks, then says, “What?”
“Yeah. Robin still thinks I don’t know.”
“I — what — since when?”
Steve shrugs. “No idea. Like, five months, maybe?”
“Seriously? How do you even know this?”
“Because Robin and I are psychically linked,” Steve says easily. “And also, because I came home one night like three or four months ago and heard them very clearly screwing in Nancy’s room.”
Jonathan just stares at him, astonished.
“So, yeah, they haven’t really been all that subtle about it,” Steve says with another shrug. “Wasn’t hard to notice.”
“I didn’t notice,” Jonathan reminds him.
“You don’t notice a lot of things, Byers,” Steve points out, but his tone sounds remarkably fond when he says it.
Jonathan thinks about Nancy saying I’ve already moved on with someone else, the looks she’s been exchanging with Robin these past few months, and says, “Huh.”
“See?” Steve says. “Nothing to worry about.”
Jonathan rolls his eyes. “Look, whatever. That wasn’t my point. My point is — it just — it might be hard. Us, I mean. Hell, we’re two people who just spent three months avoiding a problem instead of just talking about it.” Steve says nothing, just looks at Jonathan quietly for a moment, and Jonathan glances away and exhales, “But…”
Steve lifts his eyebrows. “But?”
Jonathan admits, “I do want this. With…you.”
Steve smiles. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Jonathan says. “You make me better, too, you know. For a long time, I thought I didn’t know how to let someone else in like that until I realized you already were.”
Steve blinks, then his face softens. “That was, like, a really romantic thing to say, you know.”
Heat rises to Jonathan’s face. “Shut up.”
“No, I’m serious. I could swoon right here on the carpet.”
“I can’t stand you,” Jonathan grumbles, shoving at Steve’s shoulder, but Steve just laughs. “I’m just trying to say — maybe we should take things slow.”
“Yeah?” Steve says. “I’m okay with that. More than okay.”
“We’ll do it in baby steps,” Jonathan adds.
“Sure,” Steve agrees.
“And I could…I don’t know.” Shit, he’s definitely bombing this. “I could…take you on a date?”
“No way,” Steve says. “I’m taking you on the first date.”
Jonathan fights to keep a smile off his face. “Okay, fine. I’ll do the second date, then.”
Steve shrugs. “I could live with that,” he says, an easy, unselfconscious grin on his face.
“Yeah,” Jonathan murmurs. “Me, too.”
Impossibly, Steve smile’s widens, and then he closes the distance between them, kissing Jonathan first, this time. It’s shorter this time — almost chaste, even — but it’s because Steve’s smiling too much against Jonathan’s mouth for the kiss to actually go anywhere. Still, there’s an idle, warm feeling in Jonathan’s chest all the same, as though Steve’s happiness is tangible, like Jonathan can feel it, too, just by touch alone.
Then again. Maybe those feelings are just Jonathan’s entirely.
“So,” Steve says when he pulls back, a small smile still on his face. “Now what?”
“I don’t know,” Jonathan says. He pauses. “You still want Mac and cheese?”
Steve looks surprised. “Sure. Do you?”
Jonathan shrugs. “I could eat,” he admits.
“What about your assignment?”
It’s funny — it feels like hours or days have passed since he last worried about that. It still needs to get done, he knows. But, well. The world won’t end if he puts it off a little while longer.
So Jonathan shakes his head. “It’s okay,” he says. “We have time.”
Steve blinks, and then he grins, still wide and unselfconscious.
Finally, Jonathan lets himself smile back.