Chapter Text
As he walks through the high school campus, Jonathan kept to himself, walking to the next building at a slow pace. His next class was a free period and he usually spent it in the library, maybe the dark room. No need to rush or get to a specific location meant he could finally breathe. He'd been placed in two advanced classes, again. Hawkins isn't exactly the type of place to care for gifted students, so "advanced" simply meant shifting his English and History classes up by one grade. Ta-da, magically advanced; marked for life. It's like they want you to get bullied and squashed like a bug by the older kids, simply for understanding the material at a quicker pace than the rest of your class. What a fantastic prize.
He walks into the library and sees a few of the usual faces. The two other girls in his grade that also take "advanced" classes, huddled together over the same book as they highlight different passages in bright pink and purple markers. He knows one of them, from afar, anyway. His baby brother always hanging out with hers. He wishes they could be friends, too.
Too bad they take different classes. They're science and math smart, not read and remember smart, like me. Real genius types.
He then walks over to an empty desk, the corner one is the best. He switches on the lamp and finally, sets his books down. As he stretches his tired arms, he takes a peak out the window. His backpack had torn right over there, next to that bench, two weeks ago. Despite asking his mother to sew it for him three times now, she hasn't been able to find the time.
Maybe I'll ask around, see if any of the teachers need a temporary TA to grade their papers, and I can make a couple of bucks, like last time I needed money. Cradling these damn books like babies everywhere is a pain in the ass.
As he walks back to the desk, he hears a rustling sound. Now it's a crunching sound.
Is someone eating chips in here? You gotta be kidding me. This is the one place where people aren't always making a racket or mess.
He sits down and turns around in his chair to see if he can spy the outlier. He can't see anything, just keeps hearing that incessant crinkling of the bag, crunching of the chips, and smacking of hands on jeans.
He studies for twenty seconds, then gets up.
They're gonna get their oily mitts all over everything in here, aren't they?
He walks over towards the large bookshelves.
No one behind this one. Next aisle.
Nope. Ah. There they are.
What the hell? He's laying on the floor....
Why the hell is this guy laying on the floor, staring at the wall, with a bag of Ruffles on his chest, in the middle of the library.
He's wearing a puffy jacket with the hood up. It's not even cold in here, man.
Jonathan walks down the aisle and stops near the top of his head, and takes a closer look.
Oh, it's Harrington. Because of course it is.
"Want some chips, man?" Steve says as he waves the bag around in the air.
"They're the kind that smell really bad, but taste -." he continues, as he starts to shift his head to look upwards.
"Hey, you're not Tommy." he says, disappointment lingering in his face more so than his voice.
"Nope." Jonathan then sighs deeply. He wants to roll his eyes at him, but he's laying back down, looking at the wall again so it feels pointless.
"Well, then, can you like, not stand there and go back to whatever hole you crawled out of?" he shoots back, lazily, then pours some chips into his mouth.
Crunch, crunch, crunch.
"No, I can't. Because that hole, it happens to be right over there, and all I can hear is the annoying distraction that is you."
"Then... go somewhere else."
Crunch, crunch.
"Are you kidding me? This is the LIBRARY! You go somewhere else!" he was no longer speaking low, all respect out the same window he had been peering out mere minutes ago.
He hears shushing sounds, some giggles, and the librarian clear her throat.
"Look man, I missed out on breakfast this morning and I'm starving. If you want some chips, all you have to do is ask." he says with a shrug, but he also makes a wincing sound at the end.
God, I'm so sick of this guy.
"I don't want any of those disgusting things, what I want, is peace and quiet. You're always making a scene, everywhere you go. If you're not eating in class, while making a goddamn mess all over everything, then you're yapping it up with some guy or girl next to you while the rest of us are trying to learn. You never know when to shut up!"
He watches as Steve slowly sits up and turns around, brushing the crumbs off his jacket, and noisily scrunching the bag up.
He then fully stands up.
He forgot how much taller Steve looks compared to him. He forgot that while they're in some of the same classes, he is older than him.
I just gotta stand my ground. This guy acts like he really is the king around here.
"Anything else? No? Well, my turn, then." Steve then takes a look around, shoves his hands in the jacket pockets and gets closer.
"Because. What about you? Moping around all the time, acting like everyone is too stupid or boring to interact with, huh?
It's not my fault you never learned how to play well with others." he spits out at the end, lightly shoving him aside with his shoulder as he passes through the narrow aisle.
He winced again, didn't he? Looks like brushing against me kinda hurt, which is.... odd, for a big tough guy like him.
Before Steve could reach the end of the aisle, an older boy walks over and blocks the exit, both of his long arms leaning on either side of the bookcases.
"Excuse me, your highness, but if you and your peasant here, could tone down this little lovers quarrel? Yeah, it would be great, as some of us grown ups, have important things to concentrate on. Like a campaign to build. Y'know. Stories to tell and hopes to crush."
Jonathan watched from the distance, confused. He'd seen this guy around campus, he didn't have any classes with him, so he wasn't sure if he even went to school here.
Does he know Harrington? He's talking to him and making all these wild gestures and won't let him leave.
He decides to walk a little closer to where they're standing.
"Munson, I'm not in the mood for this right now." Steve says, but he's not as annoyed as he was before. Interesting.
"So, can we skip all of the theatrics this time around? Just let me through. I have to coach swim practice today and can't be late."
"Dude, you're kidding, right? It's like, negative zero out there." Eddie says, in a strange whisper-like-yell.
Steve stares at him.
"The pool isn't outside... You do know that, right? Besides, we're not even swimming, I'm just teaching the freshman some better breathing techniques."
Eddie stares at him now. Then smiles and laughs.
"Oh, I'll just beeeeeet you are."
"Ugh, Eddie, just for once, can you not get weird about everything. You said you were busy, so, y'know, go on back to it." Steve ushers him with his left arm, somewhat dramatically.
Hm. Now he's the one pulling the theatrics.
Jonathan makes a stifled laugh, and they both turn to look straight at him, surprised to see him there.
Guess they forgot I exist. Alright, well, shows over now, at least.
He watches as Eddie moves out of the way, then makes a fist and pumps it into Steve's right shoulder. It's a harmless gesture, meant to get him going, but Steve makes an audible gasp and scrunches his face up when the light punch lands.
"Woah, buddy, I didn't hit you that hard.... I barely even touched you through that coat." Eddie says while reaching out his hand towards him, in an apologetic manner.
"Did something happen to you?" Jonathan asks.
"It's fine. I'm fine." he answers, trying to play it off casually, with a shrug, but not really being able to pull it off.
"I really don't think so...? Maybe you should get that checked out...." Eddie says with a bewildered face.
"Tommy plays basketball a little too rough when we're on opposing teams. It's fine, I'm used to it, and I gotta get going, anyway."
Jonathan and Eddie stand and watch as he takes off, straight out of the library doors, into the icy weather. They can see him crossing the courtyard and stare until he's out of range.
They then look at each other, confused, both with equal concern.
Does this guy know him well?
Are they friends?
Should I say something?
I don't know this guy, like, at all. What if I make a mistake talking to him?
Jonathan's thoughts all stumble together.
He remembers being there. Watching, listening, as a concept unknown from someone's life was brought to light. That was a few years ago, but he still felt it, as real as today was. Only today, it was no longer a concept.
"Uh, I'm Jonathan, by the way." he says as he walks closer to Eddie, scratching the back of his neck, unsure of the other boy.
"Ah, yes, the loner child that I oft see, hiding away in dark corners." he says with a smirk as he points to the desk he chose earlier.
"Yeah.... That's me, I guess. Uh, do you know Harrington well?"
"Well, let's see.... We've been running into each other for what must be, the last decade of our lives, and yet, he still thinks that I'm but a mere extra in this grand cinematic production we call 'Steve Harrington's Life'. I'm Eddie, by the way."
Talking to this guy is a goddamn chore. Why can't he just answer with a. Yes. Or. No....
Jonathan tries his best to hide his exasperated sigh.
"I just... I feel like you two had something going on there, when you were talking to each other." he says as he raises an eyebrow at Eddie.
He looks a little embarrassed. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything. I'll just ask it straight out, I guess.
"Look. Honestly, the guy is an asshole and he's probably gonna end up the biggest loser ever after high school and he'd deserve that. But, he's also a person. So, I gotta ask, did you think he was being weird?"
Eddie stares at him for a beat.
"Steve Harrington? Weird? Oh, yah, definitely. That's what makes him so deliciously interesting." he answers, with more grinning as he leans back against the bookcase.
That's not what I asked.
Jonathan sighs and looks around the library.
"No man, I mean, like, he was wearing that big coat in here, and he was obviously hurt. I feel like he's trying to hide something."
He then lowers his voice and gets closer to Eddie.
"I don't know this for sure, but, from my understanding, his dad isn't exactly a stand-up kind of guy... Plus, I've seen Steve's reaction when the fear of even a possible punishment comes up."
"D'ya think he's got something to do with it, then?" Eddie asks, slightly confused.
"I dunno, it could be. Then again, that was a couple of years ago and he's older now. It could really be from all of the sports he's a part of." he says quietly, then shrugs his arms and folds them into himself.
Jonathan then shakes his head and looks up at Eddie.
"Maybe I'm just be projecting, y'know assuming the worst, so we should just keep this between us for now." he says as he starts to walk back to his cornered desk.
"Yeah, sure, man.... If you think that's best." Eddie answers.
The guy looks like I just hit him below the belt. Maybe I should've kept it to myself.
Jonathan sits back down, shoves every thought and conversation aside, eager to get back to his studies. He's really gotten quite good at separating the dirt piles in his mind. The good stuff over here to the right, the bad stuff to the left, and the really traumatic junk, that one gets buried under both. Not quite six feet under, but enough to not have it pop up. As long as it never rains, it'll be fine where it is.