Chapter Text
"Are you sure about this? Hopper is too far, but we can try to contact Dustin. Without wanting to offend you, Byers may not be the most reliable person in the world right now."
Buckley is the one who blurts out the cutting remark with a laconic air. Little Sinclair shrugs and gives him a speculative look. Will can see a hint of a smile stretching across Steve Harrington's lips and a deep furrow of annoyance creasing Nancy's face, while her lips seem to narrow into a thin line of displeasure. His brother's girlfriend wears the same stubborn and disdainful look that Mike often displays before making a sharp comment of his own.
Certainly a family trait. Will doesn't know where they get their abrasive personalities and aptitude for sharp retorts. Even though she has a strong character, Karen Wheeler is a calm, pragmatic woman concerned with the opinion of the neighborhood; as for Ted, he is of rare indolence, rarely engaging in debates and often perfectly indifferent to his surroundings, seemingly letting everything slide off him. Not really the kind of people to seek conflicts and impose their views on others. Go figure how these two ended up with children with such bellicose tendencies...
Yet, to Will's great regret, after a few seconds of hesitation where her beautiful face contorts with anger, Nancy deflates and ultimately keeps silent. The usually unwavering girl seems preoccupied, and her annoyed expression slips for a fraction of a second, revealing fatigue and uncertainty.
Not the most reliable person in the world.
Is Nancy in agreement with such absurdities?
Will feels a strange wave of indignation swelling within him. It's as if a wave of cold is taking hold of his mind, numbing his reasoning abilities, as if an invisible hand is squeezing his insides and pushing him into a fight. Like an impulse urging him to say or do something he will definitely regret.
This is neither the time nor the place for a dispute: Erica, Nancy, Harrington, Buckley, and him are all five stuck in a perilous situation that could escalate if they don't get help quickly. The current debate about who among Dustin, Hopper, and Jonathan can reach and rescue them the fastest is legitimate. Robin doesn't know his brother: she's Steve's best friend who must have painted him in an unflattering light. And, a part of Will can understand where the girl's doubts about the potential reliability of a guy she's only met twice since their return to Hawkins, whose disheveled appearance and clothes still carry the scent of grass, might come from.
It's not the time for a conflict, and, thinking rationally, Dustin could certainly help them as quickly as Jonathan; yet, the words escape Will before he can restrain them, full of an anger that is not like him. He lets out a strange joyless laugh, and his voice cuts coldly through the air. His tone is unequivocal.
"My brother is literally the most reliable person in this damn town. Call him"
Not reliable. Of all the unfair or stupid remarks that could have been thrown at Jonathan, that was probably the worst. If no one steps up to defend his brother, then he will.
"Don't take it like that, mini-Byers. Robin didn't mean any harm. Admit that your brother hasn't been exactly reliable since your move to California. I mean, he let his stoner friend drive you completely high across half the country, that was pretty irresponsible, and Dustin is..."
The rest of Harrington's little speech gets lost in a fog, he can't make out the words spoken. It's as if anger engulfs him entirely. What he said wasn't that serious, it didn't matter at all, Jonathan would have thought it didn't matter. Just the insipid remarks of people who don't know and don't appreciate his brother: it made no sense to get upset over something like that, something so trivial when they are all in danger.
Maybe it's the lack of sleep due to constant nightmares that makes him irritable, but Will has never felt so enraged: not when his own father called him a faggot, not when Troy or other little bullies targeted Mike, Dustin, Lucas, and him, not when contemptuous people whispered "zombie boy" as he passed by, not when worthless bullies insulted Eleven, who was arguably the most fantastic girl who ever existed, not when he heard some idiots mock his poor family and label his mother as crazy, his brother as a pervert or sociopath. No, he had never fought against insults directed at those he loved. Never. But Will has changed, and Jonathan, among other things, is not irresponsible. This is Will's breaking point, and today, even if it doesn't matter, he feels angrier than ever.
Will can count on one hand the number of times in his life when he has truly gotten angry. Three times in all. Two were related to Mike Wheeler, the last to his mother, one of them even led to the destruction of the Byers' castle... the refuge his brother had built for him on the day their parents agreed on the divorce and when Lonnie finally took off. That was Will's drama; he never got angry at the "real villains," only at himself and the people he loved the most in the world. His anger was always tinged with sadness and disappeared as quickly as it came.
For once, he doesn't want to let it fall, for once he's not sad but genuinely indignant. He doesn't know Robin and Steve well, but they are not complete strangers, much less villains: they are among the few insiders who know the crazy situation surrounding the upside-down world and are helping to save Hawkins, even the entire world. They are all comrades in arms, companions in trouble, and he can't let them believe that Jonathan is a pathetic guy. Will himself had judged his brother quite harshly for those few months spent high up in the palm trees with Argyle. He hadn't been thrilled to see his usually caring and insightful brother become distant, with absent eyes and a silly smile, as if most of the events were slipping away from him, happening miles away. He had judged him harshly before remembering during their van journey what kind of person Jonathan had always been.
So, he opens his mouth and pours out everything that has weighed on his heart since the conversation he and his brother had at the pizzeria, all the things he couldn't say but has felt for years. The love and gratitude he has never quite expressed.
"Tell me, Harrington, do you think you're a hero because you act decently and play the protector for a few months, right? My brother has been doing it for years without expecting the slightest praise in return. He's always done it because he's a good person who puts others before himself, no matter what he feels. Jonathan hasn't smoked a single damn joint since government men landed at the California house to take El while she was under his guard. If he hadn't involved his friend in this crazy story, we would probably be dead, Mike, him, and me, by now! And if he let Argyle drive, it's because he wanted us to go save our sister as quickly as possible and come back to Hawkins to help you: he couldn't reasonably stay at the wheel for more than forty hours without sleep. So, how is he unreliable? In what way is he irresponsible? What do you know about my brother, damn it?!
Nancy stares at him without blinking, her expression unreadable. Steve and Robin exchange a strange look, and Steve raises a hand in a peace gesture, as if trying to interrupt his tirade. Will wants to stop his outburst, but now that the floodgates are open, he feels the words flowing out of his mouth as if driven by their own will.
-I'm not done! Have you even wondered how someone like Jonathan got the upper hand over an athlete like you in your fight? Have you wondered where he learned to take punches? How he could get back up after men, a head taller than him, under the control of the Mind Flayer, threw him into walls several times and hit him with a metal stool? Since he was a child, Jonathan is used to handling everything and enduring for others. Especially for me. When he was ten and our parents shouted horrid things at each other every other night, he was the one who came to my room to comfort me, read me stories, or played music until I fell back asleep. When my mother was stuck at work late at night, and we were alone with our father, who turned nasty after abusing whiskey, it was Jonathan who diverted Lonnie's attention and made sure the insults were focused on him. It was Jonathan who repaired all the damage our father caused, who consoled me when he called me a faggot or a sissy and tore up my drawings. He cleaned a good part of the house and cooked for us when Lonnie finally fell asleep or decided to leave us alone. And my brother wasn't even twelve when he did all that. He took, for no reason, dozens of beatings from our father but never let him raise a hand to me. You don't know my brother!"
It was one of the few unspoken truths in their family: their mother never knew how neglectful their father was with them and how violent he was with Jonathan when she closed the store in the months leading up to the divorce. Lonnie was mean, sad, and bitter at that time. More than usual. He sometimes became really bad when he was drunk: he mocked them and said a bunch of idiotic things to hurt them and try to get Jonathan angry.
"Will we ever make a man out of you, or are you also a little girl?" "Is he pretending to be a fairy or a woodland elf right now? What a shame!" "Do you enjoy playing the mop?" "You never know where you belong, huh?" "React like a guy, for God's sake!" "What's with that look? Do you want a fight, son?" "Stop treating your faggot brother as if he were made of sugar; your mother coddles him enough!" "Express your thoughts, my boy, show that you have a bit of guts to change!" "I don't know what I did to deserve such sons."
Jonathan almost never retaliated, mostly content to gaze placidly at ground or look at Lonnie with an air of dark defiance. The few times he reacted were when the insults aimed at Will became too harsh; then he responded with all the insolence he could muster to focus his father's attention on him. Some days Lonnie was furious and tired of his eldest son's disdain; he took any excuse to correct him... as if to vent. Will remembered perfectly Jonathan's defeated look and trembling hands when their father dragged him into another room "to privately discuss his attitude", the muffled sound of the belt snaps through the door, the tormented look and stiff gait of his brother when he returned from "his talk."
"Will, that's enough. Calm down"
It's Nancy who spoke; her tone is gentle, but she looks at him with a deadly seriousness. Robin seems on the verge of tears, and Steve is pale. Knowing him, his brother would be anything but happy that the hardships of their childhood were exposed like this, but Will can't stop anymore. It's as if he has to spit out everything he has on his mind now if he doesn't want to explode. He feels a sense of oppression taking hold of his gut.
"When I was almost eight years old, on a Saturday when my mother was working, my father had left the house, and Jonathan was coming home later because he was at a neighborhood kid's birthday party—I think it's probably one of the last parties he attended—I was alone at home, which never happened. I wanted to dress up; I wore my mother's clothes and put on makeup. I knew what I was doing wasn't normal, but I didn't think it was so wrong. My father came back; he caught me, slapped me, and threw me into a closet that he locked. I begged him to let me out, but he wouldn't hear anything. When my brother found me hours later, I was panicking so much that I couldn't breathe properly. I don't even know how he managed to calm me down. I just remember he said I hadn't done anything wrong and that everything would be okay. I never knew exactly what Jonathan had done to my father or said to my mother, but the next day, they both agreed to divorce, and Lonnie packed his bags. I kept crying and saying it was my fault, so Jonathan wanted to distract me and took me to build in the forest the castle I had drawn a few days earlier. We spent the whole night outside in the rain, and we didn't stop until he stood up... When he was thirteen, my brother took on as many part-time jobs as possible after school, saved all his salary to help my mother pay the bills, and refused her gifts for Christmas so I could get the toys I liked. My mother worked a lot to keep us afloat, and it was Jonathan who always took care of me: he prepared lunch and dinner for me, helped me with my homework, nursed me when I fell off my bike, and comforted me when I was bullied at school. As soon as he turned fifteen, he took as many shifts as possible after school, put all his salary aside in case one of us had health problems, an essential appliance broke, or to save for our future studies. He never complained about the situation and always did his best to handle everything... and protect my mother and me... From what I know, when I was fallen to the upside-down, he confronted our father... fought against an asshole who said I deserved to be killed because I came from a family of freaks...organized my funeral while my mother was on the verge of collapsing and faced a demogorgon. And, despite his hatred for firearms... and how much he hates to fight... he battled all the supernatural crap that came to Hawkins in recent years while trying to protect those he loves... That's the kind of man he is."
Will feels like his heart is about to burst out of his chest as it beats frantically. He feels like he's drowning in his explanations, but he can't stop babbling. His throat hurts, and he's short of breath. He feels some angry tears escape him. Nancy has come closer to him and firmly placed her hands on his shoulders, her concern making her pale blue eyes appear darker. She tells him to breathe.
"When my mother, who was grieving Hopper and had buried Bob less than a year ago, wanted us to move to California to protect ourselves... he didn't argue, no matter how much it hurt him to leave the girl he loves. So yes, maybe Jonathan deserved a break... and being stoned for a few months... to distract himself from his problems was his solution. That doesn't give you the right to judge him... You don't know him, you and Robin. Not at all. He's the best person I know... the bravest, the most honorable, and above all... the kindest man. So don't dare say in front of me that he's irresponsible... or unreliable, all of that is... Maybe he's my brother, but since he was a kid, he has acted as he should have... I really wish he was... you have no right... you don't have... you…"
"Breathe."
Nancy's voice sounds muffled, even though her face is just a few inches from Will's. Tears roll down her cheeks, and he can't stop them anymore. He feels like everything around him is slowing down. He feels like he's in cotton, and he can't find his breath anymore. It's like that time when Lonnie locked him in the closet years ago. The only time in his life when he had a panic attack. As if mentioning the incident brought back the feeling. He can't breathe. He hears frantic voices trying to break through the fog he's in, but he can't find his breath. Nancy's hands have slipped from his shoulders and are tightly gripping his arms, the painful grip is the only thing keeping him standing. He starts to see black spots obstructing his field of vision. He can't breathe, and everything becomes blurry.
He tries to calm down, tries to think about his friends, El, Mike... his mother, Jonathan. He really tries, but he feels like the feeling of oppression in his chest is suffocating him as surely as Vecna's tentacles could. It's ridiculous: he can't have survived the upside-down, a possession episode, Brenner's militia, and Vecna to die here from a sudden anxiety attack.
He feels a slap land on his cheek and vaguely registers that it's Nancy's doing, trying to bring him back to reality by any means possible. He knows she doesn't want to hurt him but to make him aware of his surroundings. Yet his heart leaps again in his throat; he chokes, and his panic rises another notch as he gets lost in his memories.
The shocked look on his father's face when he discovered him covered in makeup and wearing his mother's blouse. The shock quickly replaced by rage. The shouts and insults raining down. The violent slap that hits the side of his face. The tight grip on his arm as Lonnie drags him through the house and throws him into the laundry room closet. The cold terror that engulfs him when he hears the click of the key in the lock. His pleas going unanswered. Darkness all around him. Fear, pain, and shame mixing, overwhelming him. He has to get out.
He did something wrong. He doesn't want Jonathan or his mother to see him like this. Not in these clothes. He did something wrong; he's not normal. He can't breathe anymore.
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It's dark. He can't breathe. He's not normal.
"It's not my fault if you don't like girls!"
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He feels the cold ground under his knees and hears agitated murmurs around him. He takes in a bit of air.
"Do you know you can tell me everything? No matter what. And I'll always be here. Because, you're my brother, and I love you. And there are nothing in this world, Okay, absolutely nothing that will ever change that."
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The fog clears, and he feels something pulsing under his hand. He's not entirely conscious of his surroundings, but he realizes that someone is sitting on the floor in front of him and pressing one of their hands on his chest. He tries to focus on the beats. Inhale. Exhale.
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A soft, deep voice resonates, counting slowly from one to five. Brown, almost black eyes are fixed on him, lively and shining with tears that won't fall, deeply set in a serious and nervous face. Jonathan. Will takes shaky breaths, one after the other, and sees relief flood his brother's face.
"It's okay, buddy, everything's fine. I got you. Everything's okay. Keep it up."
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Will takes in his surroundings again: suddenly very aware of the presence of Harrington, Buckley, and Erica watching them with concern a few meters away. Steve's face oozes guilt, and Robin has obviously cried, her eyes are red, and her face is pale. Lucas's little sister has a sad expression he rarely sees. Nancy is kneeling just behind Jonathan, and her hands are trembling slightly. It's a first; this girl is a rock; she never trembles. Inhale. Exhale.
Will feels shame consuming him as he realizes the commotion he caused and the chaotic situation that resulted from it. He wonders if he'll be able to look at the others in the eyes again. Tears blur his vision, and he still struggles to breathe. He doesn't know why he got into such a state or why things escalated to this point. He put everyone in danger. They're still all in danger; they need to leave. He tears Jonathan's hand off his chest: he has to apologize and stand up. Now.
"I'm sorry... sorry... I…"
"Don't try to speak. You haven't done anything wrong. Don't move and keep breathing slowly."
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"There you go, like that. It's perfect. Take your time. Everything will be okay, I promise you".
The same words as nearly eight years ago.
His brother help him to stand up and Will is shaken by silent sobs, and Jonathan gently holds him in his arms, as he did years ago when his face was smeared with tears and dried makeup. And Will truly believes in it.
Because, as he always has, Jonathan takes responsibility.