Chapter Text
By now, stuttering awake was a familiar sensation for Will. At the grand age of 15 years and 11 months, Will can't bother waking up one of his family members to chase away the ache of the nightmare, so he opts for a glass of water.
Nightmares were never few and far between, but his subconscious was kind enough to not let him remember the dream's contents; so the residue of adrenaline was his only side effect tonight.
He crawls out of his (new) bedroom and quietly makes his way down the hallway that leads into the kitchen.
It was a dim night in Lenora. His adjustment period to this house and California in general had wrapped up a while ago. Months since the October they arrived in their new house in Lenora slipped away easily for Will. If "easy" was how you said stumbling, but getting the hang of things. In many ways, he was grateful for the move.
No one here knew what things to call him to get under his skin—whether it be "Zombie Boy" or "Queer"—and making friends wasn't the terror he thought it'd be. Even though El was still struggling a little, Will and Jonathan were there for her. If not them, Joyce was also the steady shoulder she had always been for El.
Will wanted to be able to say the same for Jonathan, but… he didn't really know. It seemed that his older brother was getting along fine with someone in his grade (some guy with long hair? Jonathan's only mentioned him a couple times, and even less by name) but he never seemed settled. He didn't expect him to be, but it wasn't like he was going through a period of unrest like El was either. Will didn't know if that was because Jonathan was good at hiding it, or if he was in a strange alternating state of "this is weird/this is cool/fucking whatever".
Panic wasn't usually an emotion Will usually ascribed to Jonathan. If he did, it was only ever during the worst periods of their lives. Like after Lonnie left, and Joyce was more frazzled than ever, Jonathan visibly panicked for maybe an hour before getting that uneasy determination about him. Or any of the times were Will's life was threatened, but even then Jonathan would usually square his jaw and kick himself into gear.
He has been like that all of Will's life; and if Will thought harder about it, he could remember instances from before Lonnie's disappearance where Jonathan was always there with a sure expression and guarding arms. Jonathan rarely didn't put himself between Will and whatever was going to hurt him—thinking about it made Will feel a little ill. How could he possibly repay the actions of a lifetime that kept Will safe? How can he show his gratitude and love for the person that was always there for him when no one else was… even Joyce?
It was something he forced himself to think about, now more often than ever.
Starcourt didn't have him front and center like he had been during their other disasters, he knows. But Jonathan was still there. Still there shielding him as he fell to the floor, still driving him away from the danger, and making sure he was okay. And, yes, Joyce was there immediately after for the fallout. But Will didn't know how Jonathan had been doing after. He always meant to ask, but Jonathan was swindled away by Steve or Nancy or Robin—
Yes, he was grateful that Jonathan had people like Steve, Nancy, and Robin in his life, but why the hell couldn't he muster up a couple words to check on his brother?
And then they were moving, and an entire new phase of their lives was starting. It never felt like the right time to bring up past tragedies when they were trying to move on.
Will would be lying if he said he didn't want out of Hawkins. That place, even if it was where he was born and raised, had thrown too many things at him to be comfortable. Joyce wanted to leave and start anew, and El didn't have enough healthy tethers to the place after Hopper's death. But it didn't occur to him that no one asked Jonathan for his opinion until the day they were packing when he caught Jonathan staring at his empty bedroom.
He thinks Steve had just grabbed the last of Jonathan's things to bring them out to the moving truck, but he left Jonathan behind for a second. It was enough time for Will to see that haunted, longing look on his brother's face. The kind of wistful grieving Will only knew when he lost something he loved.
Will had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn't his empty bedroom that was the subject of that look, but he hadn't been able to parse a different reason. Jonathan loved quietly, Will knew that much; and even if he has given Will hundreds of invitations to talk about his feelings, Jonathan has never offered his own perspective. He has seen many bits and pieces of Jonathan over the years, but never enough to complete the puzzle. Will doesn't know why it scares him to ask about, but it does.
The same way it scared him when a week or two ago, he saw Jonathan scramble to get out of his room in the middle of the night to get to their landline phone. Will doesn't think Jonathan saw him, because in that moment it was pure panic scrawled across his face. So Jonathan doesn't know that Will had overheard a wheezed out "Steve" that night either.
No matter how many times Jonathan reminded him that Steve and him have been friends since they were young—and even if Will has flickers of memories of Steve when Will was barely six—their friendship had always struck him as odd.
In middle school and a little before, all he heard about Steve was things from Mike that he had learned from Nancy. Especially when Nancy started tutoring Steve the complaints from Mike increased tenfold. But he never heard anything about Steve from Jonathan. Even if Steve was brought up in their house, it was usually Joyce asking vaguely about Jonathan's old childhood friend he never played with anymore. Jonathan never offered a name. He would just shrug and mumble an excuse about why the kid was never around anymore.
That all changed when Will was taken in 83', he knows. Suddenly, Steve was around all the time, like he never left Jonathan behind. At least, that is what Will thinks happened, because what else would excuse his disappearance from Jonathan's life for several years?
Besides his prods and nudges at Jonathan for Steve's presence in his life again, he could never bring himself to interrogate Jonathan about it either. The look on Jonathan's face whenever he started bickering with Steve while Joyce made dinner was too nice to potentially take away. If Jonathan was there for him, the very least Will could do was not be a dick about the apparently reformed-King Steve. (Not to mention that every time someone called Steve "King Steve", Jonathan became so incredibly irritable that it gave others no choice but to change the subject (Ahem, Mike)).
Tomorrow—today, he supposes, it's nearing 2 in the morning—would be a day full of classes, and his birthday is next week. Mike would be up here visiting for the break, and everything would be… okay.
Will sighs as he nears the corner that turns into their new kitchen, but comes to an abrupt stop. Was that… panting?
Not unlike a dogs in it's quality, but concerning how quick and labored it sounded. Will steps into the kitchen.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew it was going to be Jonathan in the kitchen. The straying thought that it was going to be El was just wishful thinking, because he knew how to help and comfort El. But El never had episodes like this… (Jonathan is curled up on the floor somewhere below the phone, like he tried to get to it but couldn't force himself to grab it and dial a number). El would usually wake with a scream, a nightmare about the Upside Down or her past plaguing her; and Joyce, who sleeps light from years of anxiety about Will and his own nightmares, would go to El in a heartbeat.
If Will happened to get to her first, usually a hug and calm words would be enough to get El out of her head. (Jonathan was quiet, Will has to remind himself. They were similar in that way, but not even Will could stop himself from crying out for help—Jonathan was clasping his hand around his mouth like he was trying to choke out any noise that dared to slip from him).
What the hell was meant to help Jonathan, though?
"Jonathan?" Will falls to his knees in order to peek at Jonathan's face that is being covered by his hands and hair. "You're okay, you're okay. What happened? Jonathan?"
Jonathan, thankfully, pulls his hands from his face, his mouth trying to form words but failing because he is still heaving in breaths. He shakes his head in the next moment, and he pushes Will's shoulder with a shaky hand . Was there something with his shoulder? Will looks for a second but realizes quickly that, no, it wasn't his shoulder. Jonathan was trying to push him away. Fuck.
Will shakes his head back, trying to catalogue all of Jonathan's body while filtering through old coping mechanisms that doctors gave him but never worked. His older brother was plastering himself to the wall next to their pantry, his shoulders hunched in on himself and chest furiously shuddering with the effort he is taking to suck breaths in and out. It was like he couldn't hold on to them long enough for the oxygen to get to his brain. If Will didn't figure out something and figure it out fast—Jonathan was going to pass out.
Jonathan lifts his face so that Will can finally see him without the shield of bangs. He is met with reddened cheeks and tear tracks, even though it seemed he stopped crying a while ago. He looks desperate to get out of this situation as fast as possible. Jonathan doesn't want Will to be seeing him like this.
Shit—what the hell freaked Jonathan out so badly to have a full-on panic attack? If he only had more time, if he only stopped being a coward and actually talked to Jonathan outside of platitudes—
Will scans the area around him, ignoring Jonathan's pleading eyes that he knows were meant to shoo him away, and stutters to a stop when his eyes land on the phone.
He snatches the handset off of the hook as he stands and furiously dials Steve's number. Will wouldn't have remembered it if it wasn't for a note on the corkboard—a set of important numbers written in between the number for the Mayfield Residence and their new school—otherwise he would've been stranded in his sea of worried half-baked thoughts and ideas.
The phone goes through three horrifying rings before the drowsy voice of one Steve Harrington picks up, "Hello?"
"Steve!" Will doesn't know why he sounds so surprised by his own success, but he'll take it.
There is a rustle and a confused noise from the receiver, "Will? Jesus, is something wrong? What time is it over there—"
"It's Jonathan." Will kneels back down next to the terrified looking Jonathan.
Steve suddenly sounds ten times more awake, "What? Is he okay—Will?"
Will makes eye contact with Jonathan, "He's having an attack. I don't—I don't know how to—"
"Okay." The steady way Steve says the word makes Will feel less out of his depth, even though he knows he should be questioning how Steve earned that confidence when it came to Jonathan. "It's okay. Is he sitting?"
"Yeah, yeah. He's against the wall and breathing really hard." Jonathan reaches out and squeezes Will's free wrist.
"Okay, that's good. Listen closely, I need you to have a steady voice and stay calm with him. You're free to panic later, but right now you need to be here for him."
Will nods, "Okay."
"Make sure he is sitting up as straight as he can. If he is hunched over it strangles his breathing." Will takes his free hand that is being held by Jonathan and pushes him upward by his shoulder. It's a clumsy movement, but Jonathan's breathing changes from harried to just unsteady. "Have you ever done a breathing exercise with him?"
"Uh—no. Not for someone else."
"That's okay, it's pretty similar." Steve assures. "I'll walk you through it. If you can, get Jonathan looking at you or his hand on your chest so he can follow along better. Okay?"
"Okay." Will huffs out a breath. "Hey, Jonathan. We're going to breathe now, okay? You'll be alright."
Jonathan, who has now given up on trying to shove him away, nods in defeat. He meets his brother's watery eyes and Will keeps his hand on Jonathan's shoulder to keep him upright.
Steve leads Will, and by consequence, Jonathan, through large exaggerated breaths that worked much better than Will thought they would. When Will would have panic attacks back in the hospital after his first brush with the Upside Down, he was too easily reminded of the choking vines for breathing exercises to calm him down. He had to resort to other coping mechanisms quickly so that the doctors could get back to work and Joyce to stop fussing over him.
Jonathan, however, takes the routine in stride. How often did he go through something like this? How often did it have to be that Steve of all people knew how to help—but Will didn't? Steve might have been the first person Will thought to call, but it was on a complete whim due to his memory of Jonathan being on the phone with him. Now that his head wasn't racing, he was surprised that it even worked. Calling Steve—that is—because he is pretty sure that is deep into the night in Hawkins. Was Steve a light sleeper, or was he always prepared to get a call from Lenora?
As Jonathan takes one last shuddering breath that leads into a normal breathing pattern, Will absolves to pay more attention.
"He's settling down." Will all but whispers into the phone.
Seemingly relieved, Steve clears his throat. "That's good, Will. You did great. Could you give the phone to Jon, Will? I want to talk to him for a sec."
Will looks back to Jonathan, who is rubbing at the bridge of his nose like he was disappointed with himself. Later, Will thinks, he would ask later.
"Okay. Thanks, Steve."
"You're welcome, kid." And Will hands Jonathan the phone, placing it in a hand that tremors slightly.
Before Will can fully pull away from the floor and relocate to his room, Jonathan grabs the edge of Will's sleep shirt. He turns back to his brother with a questioning look. Jonathan, now that he isn't fighting for breath, looks utterly exhausted. He clears his throat, and Will blinks when he says, "Thank you."
Will shakes his head, "It wasn't… it's fine, Jonathan." He would've left it there, but there was this weird quality to Jonathan's expression that makes him add. "I won't ask why. But I want to talk about it. If you want."
Something broken washes over Jonathan's face, and Will curses himself for not checking in with Jonathan after Starcourt. "Okay." He says. "Okay. Later."
Will nods. "Later."
While Jonathan lifts the handset to his ear, Will walks back to his room.
He is met with the slow, stark realization that Jonathan wasn't really a puzzle. It was just that the image of Jonathan Will holds in his mind was unfinished, like a painting. But the only reason that there were empty, untouched sections was because he neglected to fill them in. It wasn't like they were hard to reach, the large obvious ones, at least. Will felt harshly how terrifying that kind of vulnerability was, and maybe that was why he never bothered with it when it came to Jonathan. They were so different, but so similar at the same time, that the mere idea of pulling back the blinds to see Jonathan for who he really was, was almost like disturbing an uneasy truce they've had for years.
Will knew that if he had ever gotten any further, that there were secrets and questions he couldn't avoid; and he is starting to think that Jonathan has the very same dilemma. He was just going to have to wait to see what they were.