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The bell was ringing, and Steve only half-registered the rush of students pushing past him. Nancy bumped her shoulder against his, snapping him back. He turned to her with a small smile. “Go. I’ll catch up later.”
Tommy and Carol were already walking away with Tommy's arm over Carol’s shoulders, so they didn't see Steve lingering there and watching at the door, which Steve couldn't be more grateful for.
Nancy gave him a confused look, “Are you skipping?” she asked.
Steve shook his head. “And miss you crushing that test? No way.” She rolled her eyes, though a smile tugged at her mouth. Steve lowered his voice. “I just need to take care of something. Cover for me?”
She gave Steve one last questioning glance, then let herself be dragged away by Barbara. Steve waited until they disappeared into the crowd, then scanned the hallway. Most students were already rushing into their classrooms. No teachers in sight. Good.
He walked towards the front door and slipped away before anyone could notice. The parking lot was almost empty now, scattered with a few late kids sprinting towards their classrooms. Steve’s gaze swept across the rows of cars, tension coiling in his chest for a moment, like maybe he’d missed him, maybe he was already gone. Then he spotted that familiar hair by the far end of the lot.
Steve exhaled and cupped a hand around his mouth. “Byers!” Jonathan didn’t turn. Whether he was being a jerk or genuinely didn’t hear him, Steve had no idea. “Byers!” he tried again, already running after him.
He saw him move his head subtly. Oh, he was definitely ignoring him, the little shit. Steve broke into a full sprint, irritation fueling his legs. Why did this parking lot suddenly feel like a football field?
“Hey!" Steve said one more time. “Jonathan!"
That finally did it. Jonathan stopped short and turned, annoyance already written across his face as he adjusted the strap of his bag. “What do you want, Harrington?"
Steve slowed to a stop a few steps away. He ran a hand through his hair, searching for what he’d planned to say, only to find his words suddenly knotted somewhere in his throat.
“I just—” he began, then shook his head, trying again. “You okay?”
Jonathan’s eyes narrowed. “Like you care.”
He started to turn away, but Steve stepped forward and caught his wrist without thinking.
“Wait, Jonathan. I’m serious.”
Before anything else could be said, some students passed by, their laughs loud enough to make Steve aware of where they were. He let go instantly, his hand dropping to his side as if burned.
Steve shoved his hands in his pockets. “I just meant… do you guys know anything? About Will.”
“Why? Suddenly remembering we exist?”
“That’s not—” Steve started, but Jonathan cut him off with a shake of his head.
“I don’t know what you are trying to do, Harrington, but I’m not interested. Go hang out with your people.” He gestured vaguely towards the school. “I have more important things to deal with than standing here and listening to whatever bullshit comes out of your mouth.”
Jonathan turned around and kept walking towards his car. Steve knew he shouldn't follow him. Jonathan clearly wanted nothing to do with him, and Steve couldn’t blame him for that, not after the last years. But even if they weren't exactly on the best of terms, Steve couldn't leave him alone.
“Jonathan, wait,” he called, hurrying after him. “Where are you going? We have class.”
Jonathan didn’t even acknowledge him. He crossed the lot without looking back, went straight to his car, and swung the door open. Jonathan clearly wasn’t going to answer. He was done talking, done listening, and clearly done with Steve. So he made a decision that wasn’t smart at all, but it was the only one he could think of.
Before Jonathan could get in and shut the door, Steve slid into the passenger seat and pulled it closed behind him.
Jonathan froze halfway into his seat, then stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “Harrington, what the hell are you doing?”
“Well, if you’re skipping class, why shouldn’t I?” Steve said with a shrug.
“Get out.”
“No.”
“Get out of my car before I—”
“You said you had somewhere to be.” Steve gestured vaguely. “So let's go. Unless you’re planning to stand here arguing with me all day.”
Jonathan just stared at him, jaw tight, hands gripping the top of the door like he couldn’t decide whether to yell, slam it shut, or drag Steve out by his collar.
Steve could practically see the fight happening behind his eyes, and he had never been more grateful when Jonathan apparently decided it wasn’t worth the effort. With a sharp exhale, he shut the door.
“Fine.”
He shoved the keys into the ignition, a little harder than necessary. Jonathan’s glare stayed fixed on the windshield as he drove away to the main road, knuckles white against the steering wheel like he was trying very hard to pretend Steve wasn’t sitting inches away.
Steve tapped his fingers against his knee, resisting the urge to say something stupid just to fill the silence.
“So…” he tried anyway.
“Don’t.”
“Right.” Steve shut his mouth, lips pressing into a thin line.
Steve wasn’t sure why this bothered him so much. Or, fine, maybe he did know, but what was he supposed to do about it? What did Jonathan expect, seriously? Things were different now. High school wasn’t the same as biking around town and sharing comic books on the Byers’ living room floor. They weren’t kids anymore, and people changed. Steve changed.
It wasn’t like any of that was his fault. He never sat down and decided, Hey, I’m going to ditch my best friend because hanging with Tommy and Carol gives me better party invites. It just… happened. One day, he and Jonathan were inseparable, and the next, Steve was laughing at stupid jokes in a hallway Jonathan barely walked through. He told himself it wasn’t personal. He wasn’t abandoning him, he was just growing up. Moving on. They all were. That’s how friendships worked, right? You didn’t lose them, they just faded. People grew apart. That was normal.
But sitting in the car where they both learned how to drive, inches from the boy who had once been his entire world, Steve’s excuses felt flimsy. Paper-thin.
The moment Jonathan turned onto the main road, his foot hit the gas harder than necessary. Steve’s hand grabbed the edge of the seat as they cut through a curve, tires humming angrily against the pavement.
“Woah, hey. Aren’t you going a little bit fast?”
“If you don’t like it, you can get out.”
Steve scoffed. “Right. Get out in the middle of the road. Great plan.”
He didn’t slow down, though.
Steve pressed his back into the seat, trying not to sound as freaked out as he felt. “Look, I get that you’re worried about Will, and yeah, I’m guessing wherever we’re going has something to do with him, but can you just think for a second?”
Jonathan stayed silent, eyes pinned on the road.
“Seriously, man. How do you think Will’s gonna feel if his big brother ends up with a cast or, I don’t know, a full-body brace because he was too pissed at me to drive like a sane person?”
“Oh, sorry. I forgot that now you care.”
Steve frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Jonathan’s eyes flicked towards him just long enough before turning back to the road. “Seriously, why are you even here, Steve? It’s pretty clear you don’t give a fuck about m—” He swallowed the rest of the word. “About Will.”
“Come on, man, don’t make it sound like I—”
“What is this, then?” Jonathan cut him off. “Something for you and Tommy, and Carol to laugh about later? ‘Hey, guess what, I messed with the freak again’?”
“Jesus, Jonathan, no! Why would I—”
“Because it’s what you do now,” Jonathan shot back, turning around to face him. “I saw you last week. Laughing with Tommy while you dumped fries on that freshman kid—what’s his name, the one with the yellow glasses? Really impressive.”
Steve felt his stomach drop. “Okay, hold on, that’s not fair. It was Tommy’s idea.”
“You were right there,” Jonathan cut in. “You laughed. Doesn’t matter whose idea it was.”
Steve opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He hadn’t planned it. It was stupid. Just one of those things people did to stay on someone’s good side. He hadn’t even thought about the kid afterward, hadn’t even remembered his name.
“I didn’t mean to hurt anyone,” Steve said quietly.
Jonathan scoffed. “That doesn’t make it better. You don’t even think before you do it. You don’t care who gets crushed under your feet, as long as you get to stay at the top with your stupid crowd.”
Steve felt something cold slip under his ribs. “That’s not—”
“And you think I don’t remember what it was like before them?” Jonathan said, his voice tight. “You think I forgot the guy who would walk miles to my house just to show me a stupid comic you found? You think that guy would’ve dumped food on a guy just because someone told him to?”
Steve looked at him, but Jonathan’s eyes stayed locked on the road. He was right. He knew he was right and that he would have never done something like that before, but Jonathan didn’t get it. He didn’t get how fast things changed in high school. How suddenly you had to choose sides, or you ended up the one being laughed at. How people could decide you were weird, or pathetic, or nothing at all, and then that was it—you were branded. You survived by being what everyone expected you to be.
But how was he supposed to say that without sounding pathetic?
Steve forced out a breath. “You don’t get how it is. It’s not—”
“Oh, please,” Jonathan snapped. “Go ahead. Explain how dumping food on somebody is a life-or-death social decision.”
“That’s not what I’m saying!”
“That’s what it sounds like.”
Steve felt heat rise in his throat. “You think I wanted to do it? You think I like that crap?”
“You sure looked like you did. You laughed, Steve. Real hard.”
“People expected me to—”
“Oh, right. Because being a spineless follower is better than being decent. Makes total sense.”
“I’m trying to stay out of the line of fire, okay?” Steve shot back, louder than he meant to. “You think people don’t mess with me? You think I don’t have to worry about that?”
Jonathan barked out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, must be real rough being King Steve.”
“You don’t know what it’s like!” Steve slammed his hand against the dashboard, frustration bursting out of him. “You weren’t there my first year. You didn’t see how fast people turn on you. One day you’re fine, the next, you’re the freak, you’re the loser, you’re—”
Jonathan’s voice cut through him, flat and cold. “Yeah. I know exactly what that’s like.”
Steve froze. The air between them shifted, heavy and uncomfortable. He suddenly didn’t know what to do with his hands, his voice, with himself.
Jonathan kept his eyes on the road. “Difference is, I didn’t step on someone else just to make sure it wasn’t me.”
Steve’s stomach twisted. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. There wasn’t an argument that didn’t make him sound exactly like the person Jonathan thought he was.
“Just forget it,” Jonathan muttered.
He swallowed hard and turned to the window, jaw clenched, watching trees streak past in a blur. The car was still going too fast, but he couldn't bring himself to tell Jonathan to slow down.
Steve tried to focus on anything else—mailboxes, fences, the long stretch of road—until a brown highway sign flashed past in a blink.
LEAVING HAWKINS. COME AGAIN SOON.
“Wait—” Steve turned fully towards Jonathan. “We just left town. Where are we going?”
“Lonnie’s.”
Steve stared at him. “Lonnie? As in your dad Lonnie? Why the hell are we going there?”
Jonathan exhaled sharply through his nose. “Hopper said Will might be with him.”
Steve’s eyebrows shot up. “Okay, and shouldn’t we let the police handle that? Why are you going?”
“I’m the one who’s gotta do it. End of story.”
Steve leaned back, pressing his palms against his thighs to keep them still. “So, what? You’re just gonna show up at his door and what? Demand he hand over Will?”
“If he has him, yeah.”
Steve’s mouth went dry. He remembered the nights Will and Jonathan slept over at his place—not because they wanted to play games or watch movies, though they pretended that was the reason—but because things at the Byers house were… tense. Steve knew enough. Lonnie yelled a lot. Broke things sometimes. Made Joyce cry. And Jonathan always tried to protect Will from that.
The thought of Jonathan walking back into that man’s house made Steve sick. He was glad he had followed him after school, and that well, Jonathan hadn’t kicked his ass already.
“You really think he’s just gonna open the door and what? Hand him over with a smile?” Steve asked. “You know what he’s like.”
“I know exactly what he’s like,” he said. “Which is why I’m not letting him keep Will, if that’s where he is.”
He stared at Jonathan’s profile, at the clenched jaw, the determined set of his mouth, and felt a tug of something he didn’t want to name. Fear, maybe. Or guilt. Or just the sick understanding that Jonathan had been doing this his whole life.
“You shouldn’t have to do this alone.”
“Well, I am,” Jonathan said. "That’s pretty much the story every time something goes wrong.”
“It doesn’t have to be like that,” Steve said quietly. “I’m here.”
“For what?” Jonathan shot back. “For moral support? Backup? You planning on charming Lonnie into cooperation?”
Steve didn’t take the bait. “I’m not letting you go in there alone,” he said. “I don’t care if you don’t want me here. I’m staying.”
“He’s my dad. My mess. I’ll deal with it.”
Steve shook his head. “No. Screw that. You don’t have to deal with him alone.”
Jonathan shot him a look. “Steve—”
“No,” Steve said again, louder this time. “If Lonnie’s got Will, we’re getting him back. We. I’m not sitting in this car waiting to hear whether you walked out or got thrown through a wall.”
Jonathan huffed.
Steve kept going. “And I don’t care if he’s your dad. You think I’m gonna let some washed-up drunk take a swing at you while I’m outside twiddling my thumbs? Not happening.”
“He’s not gonna—”
“He will,” Steve cut in. “You know he will. And I’m not letting you walk into that.”
The car fell quiet except for the low rumble of the engine and the sound of tires eating up the miles of highway.
Jonathan finally muttered, “I don’t need a babysitter.”
Steve snorted. “Good. ’Cause I’m not babysitting.”
Jonathan didn’t respond, eyes locked on the road ahead, as if he broke focus for even a second, everything might fall apart.
Steve stared at him for a long moment, then said, quieter, “You’re not the only one who cares about Will, you know.”
Jonathan’s eyes flicked his way, just a quick glance, but it carried a hint of surprise. And okay, maybe Steve hadn’t exactly done much in the last couple of years to prove he cared, but did Jonathan have to look that shocked?
Steve looked forward again. “He’s a good kid. And he’s terrified somewhere. So yeah, I’m going in with you.”
Jonathan swallowed once, hard. “…Fine,” he muttered. “But stay behind me when we get there.”
Steve gave a short, humorless laugh. “Yeah, right. Like that’s gonna happen.”
Jonathan didn’t smile, but his shoulders dropped just a little, the smallest sign of relief.
The car kept speeding down the highway, but something in the air between them felt different now. Not fixed, but better than before.
Neither of them talked after that.
The world outside changed fast, the warm stretch of Indiana sunlight giving way to colder, grayer air as they neared the city limits. Somewhere past the county line, a few cold drops hit the windshield—light, scattered taps, barely enough to blur the glass.
The closer they got, the more Jonathan’s posture changed. His breaths got shallower, like the air in the car suddenly wasn’t enough. He didn’t say a word about it, but he didn’t have to. Steve noticed everything.
Steve hated it there. He hated remembering that one Christmas years ago when Lonnie played nice for exactly fifteen minutes before ruining the night. He hated knowing Jonathan grew up with him.
And he hated—really hated—imagining Will anywhere near that place.
When Lonnie’s house finally came into view, Steve sighed. It looked worse than he remembered. Beer cans were scattered across the steps and yard, some crushed, some half-full, all of them telling the same story. The grass was dead in patches, and the curtains were half-hanging off the rod.
Jonathan didn’t even fully stop the car before he was unbuckling. The moment they pulled up, he was out, slamming the door and heading straight for the porch steps.
“Great,” Steve muttered, scrambling out after him.
Jonathan took the stairs two at a time, marching straight to the door. He didn’t hesitate, just raised his fist and knocked. Hard. Then again.
“Dude, seriously?” Steve climbed the last step and grabbed Jonathan by the sleeve, tugging him back. “Move.”
Jonathan shot him a confused frown, but Steve just rolled his eyes and stepped in front of him.
“I told you I’m not staying behind you.”
He knocked and glanced through the small window in the door, and he spotted someone moving inside.
A moment later, the door opened, revealing a woman Steve definitely didn’t remember from the last time he’d been here with Jonathan and Will.
“Can I help you?” she asked, giving them both a once-over.
Steve forced a polite smile. “Yeah, uh, hi. We’re looking for Lonnie. Is he around?”
“Yeah. He’s out back.” She leaned against the doorframe. “What do you want?”
“To look around,” Jonathan said flatly as he brushed past Steve and walked straight into the house without waiting for permission.
“Jonathan, hey!” Steve hissed, shooting him a look before turning back to the woman. “Sorry,” he muttered, then hurried after him inside.
“Hey!" She called after them. “What do you think you are doing?"
“We’ll be quick,” Steve called back, already moving deeper into the house as Jonathan started calling Will’s name.
The place wasn’t big, maybe two bedrooms, all of it cramped and suffocating. At the end of the hall, Steve tried the last door. The knob didn’t move. He frowned. “I’ll get this one open. Keep looking.”
Jonathan gave a nod and stepped into the next room that was open. “Will?” he called. “Will, you here?”
Steve was busy trying to open that damn door that he didn’t realize Lonnie appeared from God knows where and slammed a hand into Jonathan’s chest, shoving him hard against the wall.
Steve’s head snapped up. “Hey—HEY!” His hand clamped onto Lonnie’s arm and yanked him back with a force that surprised even him. “Get the hell off him!”
Lonnie stumbled, surprised, then straightened with a snarl. “What the hell do you think you’re—”
“Back. Off.” Steve planted himself between them, eyes blazing. “You lay a hand on him again, and I swear, I won’t care that you’re his dad.”
Lonnie raised his eyebrows like he found that funny. “Yeah? And what exactly are you gonna do?”
Before Steve could answer, the woman from the door finally appeared at the end of the hall, arms crossed. “Will someone please explain what the hell is going on?”
“Cynthia,” Lonnie started. “This is my son, Jonathan,” he pointed at Jonathan, and then he turned to Steve and let his eyes drag over him in a way that made Steve’s skin crawl. “And this is my son’s boyfriend. Steve.”
Steve scoffed, shaking his head. He’d always cared about what people said about him, everyone except Lonnie. He didn’t give a damn what a washed-up, sorry excuse for a man like Lonnie thought. But Jonathan did, if the way he tensed behind him was any indication.
“Yeah, hilarious,” Steve muttered, stepping forward without hesitation, and subtly shielding Jonathan with his own body. “Where’s Will?”
“Will?” Lonnie raised an eyebrow, looking between the two of them. “What makes you think he’s here?”
“If he’s not here, you wouldn’t mind if we check around, would you?” Jonathan said from behind Steve’s shoulder.
“The cops already did that,” Lonnie shrugged. “But suit yourselves. He’s not here and never has been.”
Without waiting for a response, Jonathan stepped past them and headed down the narrow hallway from where Lonnie had come. Steve followed close behind, his eyes adjusting to the dim light until they reached the backyard. There, parked among overgrown weeds, sat a car. Steve might have taken a moment to admire it if it hadn’t belonged to Lonnie.
“Should’ve seen it when I got it,” Lonnie said, because apparently he didn’t understand shit and had followed them. “Took me a year, but it’s almost done.”
Jonathan ignored the comment and immediately moved toward the car’s trunk, popping it open without hesitation. Steve stepped beside him, letting out a quiet sigh of relief as he scanned the empty space inside. He wanted to find Will, wanted to know he was safe, but he was also thankful he wasn’t trapped there.
“Really? You want to check up my ass, too?” Lonnie sneered from behind them.
Jonathan closed the trunk.
“I told you,” Lonnie said. “He’s not here and never has been.”
“Then why didn’t you call Mom back?” Jonathan asked.
“I don’t know.” Lonnie shrugged. “I just assumed she just forgot where he was. You know, he was lost or something. That boy never was very good at taking care of himself.”
Steve scoffed. “And would he need to take care of himself? He’s a kid. Doesn’t he have a father who should be doing that for him?”
Lonnie turned to look at him. “Shouldn’t he have a mother and a brother for that? Not that it’s any of your business, but Joyce doesn’t let me see them. So if he got lost, that’s on them, not me.”
Steve stepped forward and slammed his shoulder hard into Lonnie’s. “They do their best, which is more than I can say for you.” He shot a hard look at Lonnie before turning to Jonathan. “Let’s go. He doesn't know shit.”
Before they reached the backyard door, Steve stopped, turned back, and, without thinking, threw a solid punch right into Lonnie’s face.
The satisfaction of the hit lingered as Steve exhaled sharply. “Damn, that felt good.”
Lonnie’s head jerked back, a surprised grunt escaping his lips as he stumbled, clutching his jaw.
Jonathan froze, eyes wide, mouth slightly open in shock. “Steve—”
Steve cut him off. “Now we can go.” Before Lonnie could recover, Steve grabbed Jonathan’s wrist and dragged him out of that house.
Back in the car, Jonathan and Steve slid into their seats, and Steve let out a slow breath, rubbing the back of his neck, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up.
“I’m sorry about that,” he said quietly. “I know he’s your dad, but—”
Jonathan cut him off with a small, tired smile. “No, it’s okay. I probably would’ve done the same if I were you.”
“Good. Because I’m not actually sorry." Steve said.
Jonathan laughed, shaking his head, and Steve’s heart skipped a beat. When was the last time he’d heard Jonathan laugh like that?
“I wouldn’t expect anything less from Steve Harrington,” he said, eyes briefly meeting Steve’s.
Steve quickly looked away as Jonathan started the car. “Well, it's good some things never change.”
As they pulled away from Lonnie’s house, Steve noticed the silence between them felt different. It wasn't uncomfortable anymore. Maybe, just maybe, he was starting to get his friend back.
Steve glanced over, breaking the silence. “Sorry Will wasn’t here.”
Jonathan gave a bitter smile. “Maybe it’s for the better.”
Steve frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I didn’t want to imagine Will running away just to go to Lonnie.”
“Yeah. You're right." Steve nodded.
For a moment, the only sound was the soft patter of raindrops against the windshield. Then Jonathan broke the silence.
“Thanks. For coming with me.”
Steve glanced over, meeting Jonathan’s eyes for a brief second before looking back at the road.
“Of course.”
Steve couldn’t help but think about how much Jonathan had been forced to grow up too fast. Always looking out for Will. Hell, sometimes Jonathan even had to keep an eye on Steve himself, especially when Steve was busy convincing Will to pull some ridiculous prank or get into trouble.
Steve remembered one summer afternoon when they were about thirteen. Steve had talked Will into sneaking into Mr. Clarke’s backyard to “borrow” a garden gnome for a prank. Jonathan caught them right before they could grab it, and instead of yelling, he just sighed and told Steve, “You’re going to get us all in trouble.” Then he spent the next hour convincing Will to sneak back home without getting caught. Steve had thought Jonathan was just being a stick in the mud back then, but now he understood. It was Jonathan taking care of everyone, even when he probably didn’t want to.
“You want me to drop you off at school or your place?” Jonathan asked, pulling Steve from his thoughts.
Steve hesitated, thinking it over. Tommy probably had his stuff by now, and since they were meeting up later that night anyway, it made more sense to head home first. “Just drop me off at my place,” he said finally. He didn't have the energy either way to deal with Tommy or Carol, for that matter.
“Your house it is." Jonathan said.
As they drove back toward Hawkins, Jonathan reached over and popped a cassette into the player. The car filled with a familiar tune, and Steve’s eyes shot open in surprise. “Wait, no way. You still have this?”
Jonathan glanced over, a flush creeping up his neck. “Yeah, I kept it. Don’t laugh.”
Steve smiled, shaking his head. “No way I’d laugh. I made that for your tenth birthday. Thought you said you lost it years ago.”
"I found it recently, buried in one of my mom’s boxes.”
Steve nodded, grinning. “Well, that makes sense.” He didn’t waste a second before cranking up the volume, nodding his head to the beat of More Than a Feeling.
Steve glanced over at Jonathan, who was tapping the steering wheel softly, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
For a moment, it felt like things were normal again. Steve realized how much he missed this. Missed being around Jonathan without caring what people had to say about him.
Jonathan slowed as he turned onto Steve’s street, the familiar row of houses appearing through the light drizzle on the windshield. The car rolled to a stop in Steve’s driveway, the engine humming low beneath the fading guitar solo.
Steve rested his hand on the door handle but didn’t push it open. “Thanks for the ride,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “And for letting me come with you. Really.”
“Thanks for everything back there.”
Steve nodded even though Jonathan wasn’t looking at him. His fingers drummed once on the handle, then stopped. He wasn’t ready for the moment to end.
“Hey,” he said quietly. “If you hear anything at all about Will, can you call me?”
“Yeah,” Jonathan said immediately. “Of course. I will.”
“Okay. Good.”
He finally pushed the door open. A rush of cold air spilled into the car, breaking the warm little bubble they’d been sitting in. He stepped out but lingered, leaning down towards the window.
“You gonna be okay?” he asked softly.
Jonathan’s smile was thin. “I have to be.”
Steve’s chest tightened. “You’re not alone, you know.”
Jonathan’s breath hitched just barely, so small most people would’ve missed it, but Steve caught it.
"I know."
For a moment, Steve stood there, biting at his bottom lip. He swallowed, heart thudding harder than it should’ve.
“Hey,” he said, lowering his voice, “do you… wanna come inside? My parents aren’t home anyway.”
Jonathan blinked, caught off guard. Steve felt his pulse jump, heat prickling at the back of his neck.
“You don’t have to,” Steve added quickly. “I just—” he sighed. “Maybe you don't want to go back now?"
Jonathan looked past Steve for a moment, towards the quiet, empty house, then down at his own hands on the steering wheel. Then after what it felt an eternity for Steve, Jonathan finally exhaled, a long, shaky breath, and nodded. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Okay. I’ll come in.”
Steve’s eyebrows lifted just a little too fast. “Cool,” he said, voice cracking faintly before he cleared his throat. “Cool, cool. Yeah.”
Jonathan gave him a look, half amused, and Steve wanted nothing more than to sink into the floor.
“Uh, just park wherever,” Steve said. “Doesn’t matter. The neighbors won’t say anything.”
Jonathan nodded, pulling the car fully into the driveway as Steve stepped back, suddenly very aware of his own heartbeat and the weird fluttering feeling in his chest.
Once Jonathan finally parked the car, Steve hurried to unlock the front door and pushed it open, letting Jonathan step inside first. He shut the door behind them a little too fast and immediately winced at himself.
“Uh, kitchen’s that way. Living room’s, you know, where it usually is. Upstairs is, um… upstairs.”
Why was he talking so much?
Jonathan raised an eyebrow. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Totally.” He absolutely was not. Why did it suddenly feel strange having Jonathan in his house again? He shook his head. He was being ridiculous. “It’s just—been a long day.”
Jonathan nodded slowly, like he didn’t quite believe him but wasn’t going to push. He stepped further inside, glancing around.
“This feels… weird,” he admitted softly. “Us. Here.”
“Yeah,” Steve said, a breath of a laugh slipping out. “But good weird? Maybe?”
“Maybe,” he said quietly.
“Oh. Cool. Yeah. That’s—cool.”
Jonathan shook his head with a tiny smile. “You keep saying that.”
“I’m aware,” Steve muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “So, uh, are you hungry? I can make something. Or at least, like, find something you don’t have to heat up in the oven for an hour. We’ve got cereal. Uh. Bread. Chips? I can figure something out.”
He gestured vaguely towards the kitchen, and Jonathan followed his movement, only to frown.
“Steve,” he said slowly. “Your hand.”
Steve blinked. “My what?”
Jonathan reached out before Steve could pull away, gently catching Steve’s wrist. His thumb hovered just shy of the skin, not touching but close enough that Steve felt the warmth of it.
There, just below the knuckles, was a dark, ugly bruise.
“Jesus,” Jonathan muttered. His eyes flicked up to Steve’s face. “Is that from punching Lonnie?”
“What?” Steve frowned. He hadn’t even felt it during the drive. “No. I mean—yes. Probably.”
Jonathan guided him towards the couch.
“Sit,” Jonathan said.
Steve huffed a laugh. “Dude, it’s a bruise, I’m not dying.”
“Sit,” Jonathan repeated, giving him that older-brother tone, the one he used on Will, and sometimes on Steve when they were younger. Which was stupid, because Steve was older than him.
Steve dropped onto the couch, “You’re exaggerating.”
Jonathan ignored that entirely. “I’m getting ice. Don’t move.”
Jonathan disappeared down the hall, and Steve stared at the ceiling. He heard the fridge open. Some rustling. A quiet curse, and then footsteps back towards the living room.
“Okay, let me see,” Jonathan said, reaching gently for his hand.
Steve tugged weakly. “Dude, it’s just a bruise.”
“Yeah, well, I want to look at it anyway.”
Steve swallowed, letting Jonathan take his hand. Jonathan turned it, then tilted it slightly, inspecting the knuckles.
“You should’ve seen the other guy," Steve tried to joke.
Jonathan snorted softly through his nose, still focused on Steve’s hand. “I did see him. It ended pretty badly for him.”
Jonathan pressed the wrapped ice gently against Steve’s knuckles, and Steve hissed through his teeth.
“Sorry,” Jonathan said quietly, adjusting it. After a moment, he added. " You didn’t have to do that.”
“You’re kidding, right? He deserved worse.”
Jonathan shook his head, eyes fixed on the bruise instead of Steve’s face. “Still. You always jump in without thinking.”
“I did think,” Steve argued. “And that was the best I could do.”
Jonathan rolled his eyes. “That’s not what I meant. You don’t think about yourself. What if he punched you back?”
Steve shrugged. “I’m pretty good in a fight.”
“Steve.”
Steve let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders sinking. “What do you want me to say, Jonathan? You heard what he was saying. I wasn’t gonna just let him get away with that.”
Jonathan didn’t respond right away. His hand, still holding the ice pack, slowly stopped moving. He stared at Steve’s bruised knuckles for a long moment before lowering the ice completely, resting it on his own knee instead.
“He was right about one thing,” Jonathan whispered. “I wasn’t there for Will.”
Steve’s head snapped up. “No. Don’t start with that—”
“I should’ve been home. I should’ve been with him. But I wasn’t. Because I asked for an extra shift.” His breath wavered. “So I could buy him that stupid toy he wanted.”
“Jonathan,” Steve said firmly, grabbing him by the shoulders, “you can’t blame yourself for that.”
Jonathan pressed the heel of his palm to his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut. “I wasn’t there. And now he’s gone, and I—” His voice cracked. “I feel like I failed him.”
Steve reached out, gently prying the ice pack from Jonathan’s fingers. “Hey. Look at me.”
Slowly, reluctantly, Jonathan did.
“It’s not your fault,” Steve said. “None of this is on you.” He sighed. "Look, the truth is, no one knew it would happen. You’re acting like you should’ve had some kind of warning sign written across the sky.”
Jonathan opened his mouth, but Steve didn't let him.
“You were working, man,” Steve continued. “Trying to buy your brother something he really wanted. That’s not failing him. That’s just life. Normal life. And you don’t get punished for trying to make things better.”
Jonathan looked away, eyes shining but stubbornly holding back.
"You think if you were home, you would’ve magically stopped it? That you would’ve known exactly what was going on? You wouldn’t have. You’re not psychic, man. You’re not Superman.” He hesitated, then added with a lopsided smile, “Which is good, because that outfit would not suit you.”
A tiny laugh escaped Jonathan.
“You are a good brother,” Steve said. “A damn good one. And I know it probably doesn’t feel like that right now, but Will knows it. And it doesn’t disappear because you weren’t in the house for one night. That doesn’t erase everything you’ve done for him.”
Jonathan swallowed, throat bobbing.
“And yeah,” Steve admitted, “I know it feels like you should’ve been there. Like you could’ve stopped it. But you can’t rewrite it. You can’t go back.”
He hesitated, then added, “You can only be here now.”
Jonathan stared at him for a moment, then he let out a thin, shaky breath that wasn’t quite a laugh.
“Crazy,” Jonathan said, “I was starting to wonder if the Steve I grew up with was gone.”
“What? No. He’s still here. Just... you know. With better hair now.”
Jonathan’s mouth twitched, the faintest smile forming. “Yeah. I guess I can see that.”