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If there was anything Jonathan had learnt throughout his life, it was to appreciate the small things in life. Small things such as having syrup to pour on his breakfast, having cassettes for making mixtapes, and of course a roof to be grateful for those things under.
He’d moved interstate. He’d ended up back in Hawkins. He was stuck in Hawkins. There was an apocalypse brewing.
Despite all that, he found himself extremely grateful for the privilege of sleeping next to Nancy Wheeler, in her bedroom, under her pink floral sheets. Nancy wasn’t syrup and Cassettes and a roof; Nancy was water to a man lost in the desert.
Part of him felt guilty. Guilty that instead of sleeping in the basement the Wheeler’s had so graciously made up for them, he was sneaking up to their daughters bedroom to share her sheets.
He also felt guilty that he was leaving Will down there, all alone, in the dark Wheeler basement, while he was cuddled up to his girlfriend upstairs.
Will was not a child, but he shouldn’t have to wake up to find the couch empty because his brother would rather spend the night with his girlfriend.
So far, it seems Will has not yet caught on. There was one time where he admitted to waking momentarily and noticing Jonathan wasn’t there. Luckily he bought that Jonathan had simply gotten up to use the bathroom and it was never addressed since.
Jonathan’s body clock had shifted after living with the Wheelers. He was now able to without fail wake up at five in the morning to sneak back down onto the basement before anyone, including Will, would notice.
This was another one of those mornings. He stirs awake, carefully as to not wake Nancy. He opens his eyes to read the alarm clock. 5:02am. He slowly pulls the covers off himself before sitting up. Nancy shuffles beside him. Jonathan stands up and fixes the covers for Nancy before planting a kiss to her forehead.
He tiptoes towards the door, careful to avoid the one squeaky floorboard beside her dresser. He carefully opens the door and steps out. All is fine until he notices another figure, just across the hall.
His breath catches in his throat and he is paralysed. At first he thinks he’d been caught red handed by Mr Wheeler due to the figures masculine frame. He panics, standing perfectly still as though Mr wheeler wouldn’t see him, standing right there in the doorway of his daughters bedroom, so long as he doesn’t move.
But the figure stops abruptly too, and in the darkness, he makes out Will’s messy morning hair. Jonathan stares dumbfounded.
“Will?” He hisses.
Will tenses, “…Yeah?”
“What the hell are you doing up here?!”
“Me? What are you doing?!”
“Uh,” Jonathan turns his head back at Nancy’s door, his hand still holding onto the handle, “Just…uh…” He looks up to see Will doing the exact same thing with Mike’s door handle.
Will notices him looking and quickly lets go, standing still in the hallway, “I-I wasn’t — I mean, uh,” Will stammers.
Both boys just stare at each other for a moment in awkward silence.
“…let’s just…go back downstairs,” Jonathan whispers.
“Agreed.”
Both boys nod before sneaking back down to the basement. They don’t talk, they just go to sleep and try to pretend that exchange hadn’t happened, silently thanking the universe that it hadn’t been Mr. Or Mrs. Wheeler to catch them.
Although the next morning, Jonathan for the first time takes notice of the sweater Will woke up in, and just how similar it looks to the one Mike had worn the day prior.