Chapter Text
Steve skewers the demodog on a pitchfork and his biceps flex and his expression is stoic. When he pulls out the pitchfork – and who even knows where he picked that up so quickly – the demodog’s blood and guts spill out all over Jonathan’s sweatshirt and cardigan.
He probably did that on purpose, the bastard. Every single stupid thing he does is specifically designed to get on Jonathan’s nerves.
Jonathan stays where he fell when the demodog jumped at him, blearily blinking up at him and at Nancy. He crushes a fistful of leaves in his hands.
The thing came out of nowhere, with sharp claws and a million teeth. If it hadn’t, Jonathan wouldn’t have needed Steve Harrington of all people to come save him.
Then Steve runs his fingers through his hair in a way that shouldn't be hot - and Nancy won't stop looking at him.
That's the whole problem.
She does it all the time, little looks and glances and sometimes, rarely, long lingering stares like she doesn't even know she's doing it. The same way she doesn’t realize she’s bringing him up constantly. Like he’s there, between the two of them, even when he’s not there.
Steve offers Jonathan a hand – a taunt, most likely. So Jonathan ignores the hand and gets up by himself.
“You alright, Byers?”
Jonathan scoffs, but Steve keeps looking at him, so – “Yeah.”
That’s enough to satisfy him, enough for him to nod and turn away. Jonathan can breathe easier when that piercing gaze isn’t fixed on him. It’s not like he’s afraid of him but something about that gaze makes his hands go clammy and his heartbeat too fast.
Everything he feels is amplified by ten if Steve is around, for some reason. Dislike becomes hate. Irritation turns into blinding rage.
“Let’s keep going,” Steve says. “Got no time to lose.”
With that, he stalks forward, navigating through the forest like it’s all he’s ever done. Like they’re not in the Upside Down, with spores in the air and vines on the ground. Holding up his pitchfork like it’s a sword that can protect him from anything.
This stuff has always come natural to him. Just like when he took Jonathan’s nail bat and wielded it more confidently than Jonathan ever could. He makes it look all so – effortless. It’s infuriating.
Both Jonathan and Nancy start walking again, side by side. They’re headed for the lab. Dustin is ahead of them too. It’s as private a moment as they’re going to get any time soon.
Jonathan has to do it now. There's no other choice. They could all die any moment and he doesn't want to leave any regrets behind.
“Nance… Can we talk?”
She glances over just briefly, the corners of her mouth turned down.
“Does it have to be right now?”
She seems a bit annoyed, she doesn’t want to hear it. But Steve is walking in front of them and she is looking in his direction and they almost got killed again and he has to say this now.
“It can’t wait – it – Nancy.”
“I’m listening.”
But she’s not listening, she’s walking ahead, surveying the area, always on the look-out. Jonathan grabs her arm and she stops.
Why does it feel like they are always missing these moments lately? Like there are no more quiet, soft talks, little touches that only belong to the two of them?
It’s all been so different since Steve showed up in their lives again.
He can’t lose this, and he loves her and this is the right thing to do – this is what people do when they love each other.
“Nancy.”
“Yes?”
Still annoyed. Whatever. Jonathan pushes forward.
He fishes for the cassette in his pocket, fumbles with it for a second, then hands it over to her.
“What’s this? I didn’t bring a Walkman, if that’s what you’re thinking-”
“Open it.”
She does.
Her eyes widen, her mouth opens just so. She’s surprised. That’s fair. But that little furrow between her brows can’t be a good sign.
“What is this,” she says again. This time her voice is flat.
“You’re the love of my life, Nance,” Jonathan says helplessly. “Will you marry me?”
Nancy goes quiet completely. She’s just staring.
“You can’t be serious,” she says eventually. Faint. “Are you really doing this right now?”
Not the greatest reaction. Maybe Jonathan should have thought this through more. It’s too late to turn back now, though.
He just has to salvage this, to explain himself – he can still save this.
“We've been dating for a while, it can't be that much of a shock.”
“We are barely adults, Jonathan! We have so much time, why do you have to do this right now?”
Definitely not happy then.
Jonathan gulps.
This was supposed to be something good. He needs her to smile at him again. He needs her expression to soften, for her to take his hand and say something sweet. He misses that – her – the way they used to be, all the way back at the start.
This was supposed to bridge the distance between them, but she feels further away than ever.
“Well, okay, if you need some time to think -”
“I don't!”
Jonathan flinches back just so.
“Then -”
He can’t finish the sentence. He knows how it ends, but he can’t say it.
Something is burning in her eyes, in the way she looks at him. What she’s about to say to him is going to reach straight into his chest.
She’s looking at him like she wishes she could tell him anything else but she can’t.
“Then the answer is no, Jon,” she says, almost softly. “I’m sorry.”
It’s like the floor gives way beneath them. Like free fall. Like what? What are you even saying, how could you –
Her big shiny doe eyes. The pitying gaze he’s seen a hundred times before. (Oh, honey. Did you really think I’d be your friend, sad lonely Jonathan Byers?)
But this is Nancy. Nancy has never looked at him this way.
A straight no? Not even a ‘maybe’, not even ‘I’ll think about it’, not even ‘ask me again in a year’. Why is he the only one trying to save their relationship? Is he insane, trying to keep something alive that is already dead?
No.
That’s not it. Of course. Of course that’s the answer, of course that’s what this is about because this is what it always comes back to.
“This is because of Steve, isn't it?”
Nancy lets out an unhappy startled laugh. She turns away, one hand on her forehead.
“I can't do this with you right now.”
She shakes her head but it’s all starting to make sense.
She’s not going to say yes. There’s still the Steve of it all. The better option. The safer option. The man with the money who makes everything easy. (The man with all the courage who never lets you down. Who makes dorky radio noises. Who manages to look handsome in every boring sweater. With his charming smile and his stupid pick-up lines and his stupid floppy hair that you just want to run your fingers through.)
For a moment, it looks like Nancy is going to walk away but she stops in her tracks.
“Wait,” she says quietly, like something just occurred to her. “Is that the only reason you asked me? To stop me from getting back together with Steve?”
“I - no, this is coming out all wrong -”
“To trap me with you?”
Getting stabbed would be less painful.
“Trap you?!” Jonathan shoots back. “No! I asked you because I want us to be together, always - if - if that feels like being trapped to you, then -”
Then maybe there’s no point to this after all. Maybe she sees him the way she did all these years ago. She’s looking at him with the same eyes.
Or maybe they’re just saying the quiet part out loud now.
“You know that's not what I meant.” She turns to him, takes a breath. “Maybe - maybe I'm just not ready to be just some guy's wife.”
Oh, this is good. Some guy’s wife.
Maybe this is it, finally, the fight they should have had months ago. So many things he let die on his tongue rather than saying them out loud. It’s possible they’ve just been slowly poisoning him instead. And her too.
“Some guy - no, I'm asking you to be my wife. Would that really be so terrible?”
Nancy Byers. She hates the sound of it. She must.
Jonathan runs a hand through his hair. He can’t look at her anymore.
It’s not something good. This is starting to feel like something very, very bad. Something with no way to come back from.
“Nance, come on,” he says, trying to stay reasonable. “Don't do this. Matching scars, remember? We belong together.”
Her eyes glisten. This is what he was afraid of. She hates him. She has every reason to hate him.
“You know what, Jonathan?” she says. “I actually think maybe we shouldn't stay together because we both went through the same terrible thing once. Or twice. Or even three times! There should be more to it than that.”
“There is! I love you.”
Isn’t that enough? Has it never been enough?
“Do you? Or do you love the idea of me? Lovely girl-next-door Nancy Wheeler?”
There’s the déjà-vu. A forest, in the rightside up… but then, that was a beginning.
“Oh, it’s just like when we first met.” Jonathan rolls his eyes. “I thought we moved on from that!”
“I did too.” She covers her mouth. She can feel it too, the rumbling in the ground, the lightness in the air – an ending around the bend. “But you don't see me, do you? For a moment there, it felt like you did.”
For a beautiful moment that dissipated just as quickly as it came. Was this all doomed from the start? Whatever it was, it’s crumbling now.
“Of course I do!” Jonathan snaps back. “You're brave and you're brilliant and – and -”
“And am I human too? Or do I always have to be perfect for you?”
Nancy, with her big imploring eyes, looks like he feels – desperate to be understood.
And yet, he doesn’t understand.
“You don't.”
Of course she doesn’t, she never did. He never wanted her because she was perfect. He wanted her because she cared when no one else did. Because – because -
“Then tell me!” She leans forward, nearly panting. “Tell me why you want to marry me and don't mention Steve Harrington.”
(Because I can’t bear to lose you.)
(Because you’re slipping through my fingers all the time.)
(Because I thought you were it for me, for forever.)
All excuses. None good enough.
He says nothing.
“That’s what I thought,” Nancy says softly.
She waits for a couple of beats, giving him the chance to salvage this. His mind is empty. He has nothing to say, nothing that could ever make this right again.
Maybe – and this sounds so horrible but – he can’t help it but – maybe a tiny part of him wanted Nancy because she was Steve’s first. Because she was part of that shimmering golden world. Because maybe only half of him resented those stealthy pictures he took of both of them in Steve’s mansion and the other half –
The other half -
“Have a good life, Jonathan Byers,” she says in that same awful voice. “Goodbye.”
This must be the end. She hasn’t said it in so many words, but it’s her tone that does it. The finality in it.
He tried to fix something precious and instead, he let it drop.
She walks away from him and he waits for her to turn back.
Just once. Just a single glance.
She never does.
Steve Harrington has had a really rough year. And if sometimes it feels like everybody hates him a little bit… Well, he rolls with the punches.
But he has a terrible feeling that he is never going to make it out of Hawkins. That someone is going to die in the fight against Vecna, just like the last time… and he’d rather that someone be him. Maybe that’s the only way to escape this hellhole of a town.
Robin, Nancy, and Jonathan… they can make their own way in the world, go to New York, go to college. That’s not in the cards for Steve Harrington.
Now these waters are rising again.
This is where those bats attacked him, where Vecna disappeared, where Eddie died… He’s had nightmares about this place for years.
Whatever other drama is going on, he’s really starting to lose his patience of it. Don’t they have bigger things to worry about? These days, everybody’s got a bone to pick with him, all the time.
Byers is obviously stewing on something again, really letting it simmer this time. The scoffs and stares are really endless.
Steve would prefer he just come out with it, whatever is bothering him so much, get it over with, than stay sitting in these uncomfortable silences. He’s never been good at passive aggressive anyway.
He’s just waiting for the day Byers snaps and starts throwing punches again. It’ll be good. To feel it in his teeth, in his knuckles. It will be better than whatever this is. (Even if he’s bound to lose that fight too.)
Nancy and Dustin are already in the lab and Steve and Byers have never really been the brains of the operation, so they might as well have it out now.
Steve stares up at the façade of the building. Should he go in or let this happen now? It’s not a good time but maybe there’s a peaceful way of resolving this.
Any time soon, steam will come out of Byer’s ears.
“What is your problem, man?” Steve decides to go with.
Byers, who had wanted to enter the building a moment ago, whirls around on him. Instantly gets in his face. Dude has no respect for personal space.
“It's all your fault!”
Coming right out with the nonsensical accusations. At least it’s to the point. They have no time to waste.
“Oh yes, tell me, Byers. How is every single flaw in your life my fault?” Steve’s voice is dripping condescension. He leans forward too because he’s never one to back down, even when it’s the worst decision. “What has the big bad Steve done this time?”
Byers rushes forward, pressing his forearm to Steve’s throat. Steve has to stumble back until he hits the wall. It only works because this is too weird – who knew Byers had it in him.
“Nancy!” Byers yells, as if that explains anything. “You know why – it’s because you wouldn't stop flirting with her! Because she can't stop looking at you! Because of your stupid hair and your biceps and your clothes from the Gap!”
Steve tilts his head back as casually as he can with the arm restricting him.
“All I'm hearing is you think I'm hot.”
“No!” Byers is affronted immediately. Too easy. “Nancy thinks you're hot because she has no taste in men.”
Steve smirks. It would really be kind of fun if it wasn’t so annoying.
“That's a self-burn I think.”
Byers looks like he’s about to have an aneurysm, so Steve lifts his hands in a gesture of peace.
“Look, man, you know she wouldn’t give me the time of day. She only has eyes for you and we both know it.”
Byers seems a little lost, slowly removing his arm, but still not stepping away.
Steve sighs. Whatever stupid insecurity issues Byers has been struggling with seem to be not so easily dispersed.
So now it’s on him to save his and Nancy’s dying relationship? That’s just great.
“The problem is that you don’t talk to her, you know?” Steve says, all wise relationship guru. He channels his inner Robin. “Communication is key. You guys just have to talk it out, all your issues.”
Byers’ eyebrow is raised, sceptical, but at least it seems like he’s listening. Steve hedges forward.
“All you need to do is be the bigger man, admit it when you’ve made a mistake.”
Steve cringes a little at himself, remembering how he used to give advice to Henderson. Ignoring girls until they want you? No wonder Steve never had any luck in love.
But you learn, right?
Byers doesn’t realize the gold value of this advice, naturally.
“No!” he snaps. “It’s you, it’s always you!”
What’s the saying? You can lead a horse to water, but you have to hit it over the head to make it drink?
“Byers, I need you to use that brain of yours for once and realize that it’s you who’s been keeping her at arms-length all this time. It’s you who -” Steve searches for the right words, “-needs to open up your heart.”
There, that makes sense. Byers looks a little baffled, though. Maybe he needs a simpler metaphor.
“You need to, uh,” Steve casts around in his mind for what he saw in a magazine once, “let the flower of your… love… bloom?”
No, that wasn’t it, was it?
Byers’ mouth has dropped open.
“Sprout?” Steve tries.
Byers’ mouth drops open further.
“Prosper?”
“What the hell?”
Okay. Rude. Robin would have gotten it for sure.
Byers, however, is allergic to good advice and it’s safe to say he doesn’t have an imagination either.
“Whatever, the point is you need to open up to her. She can’t read your mind, you know?”
“I know that.”
They’re really getting somewhere now, aren’t they? Maybe Steve would make a good therapist after all.
“Even if I did…” Byers says. “There’s always you.”
Steve groans. What about all that progress they just made?
He crosses his arms, using the wall to prop him up.
“You need to let that go, dude. I know it’s tempting to see me as the centre of the universe, but -”
“God, will you just shut the hell up?”
“Hey, you’re the one who’s always bringing this up. I think we should have a truce, at least until all of this has blown over -”
“A truce, with you? Are you kidding me?” Byers shoots him a stony glare. “Never. Not with you. Never.”
Ouch. Did something happen? When did Byers stop pulling his punches?
“What’s your problem?”
Byers clenches his fist. He looks down to the ground, then back up, then down again. Grinds his jaw.
Like he’s finally building up to a real answer.
“She said ‘no’.”
“What?”
“I proposed, okay?! I proposed and she said no and now we’re probably done for good and it’s your fault.”
Steve can’t help the incredulous laugh.
“Shit, you’re serious? You don’t even need me to blow up your own relationship.”
Oh, this is good. This is better than anything Steve could have come up with. Steve has always been the king of self-sabotage but Byers is really coming for his crown.
“Murray thought it was a good idea -”
“Ah, so someone handed you the matches. It’s still you who had to light them, right?”
Steve chuckles again, but then he chokes. Nancy. How is Nancy feeling about all this? She was the one who said no, but it must have broken her heart.
What will it take for Byers to get his shit together and fix this mess? Steve can’t fix it for him, for her. Nancy has made it clear over and over again that it’s none of his business.
But he can’t bear the thought of her hurting. She must be in so much pain already, because of her family. Couldn’t Byers have picked any other time?
Maybe he should go to her. Just to check on her. Maybe she wants to talk about it. If she needs space, he’ll leave her alone. But he has to make sure…
He pushes himself off the wall, starts to reach for the door handle.
Byers’ voice stops him mid-motion.
“You want to know what my problem is? It’s you.”
Steve turns to him slowly.
Blazing fury in his voice. Will the delusions never end? He’s not even with Nancy anymore and he still won’t let this go?
Both of Byers’ fists are clenches now. He’s rocking back and forth on his heels.
“You, with your stupid hair. Because you always have to be the hero, always swooping in to save the day. What do you want, Steve? Applause and flowers? The whole world at your feet?”
Steve opens his mouth to retaliate but for the first time, he can’t think of a response.
The attention. The admiration. To feel like you have a place, like you belong.
(It was never selfless. He never really changed. Did he?)
(The road to hell. With or without the good intentions? It doesn’t even matter, does it?)
Byers is getting close again, always right in Steve’s face, always pushing.
“The world is already yours, Steve,” Byers says full of bitterness. “It always has been. I just wanted one small part of it too.”
Low and dangerous.
Any moment now. It’s happening, finally. Byers is like a pot that’s overboiling.
Pushing and pushing and pushing.
“Always you, always there, always her first thought,” Byers spits. He surges closer and Steve doesn’t back down. He never would. “Steve Harrington, the rich boy. Your life is so easy. And this routine you’ve been playing, the nice guy routine, it’s not fucking fair. You can’t have all that, the looks and the money and the charm, and be a good guy.”
Byers is trying to stare him down but Steve won’t look away.
“You just can’t, you have to pick one. You can’t keep doing this to me. You selfish fucking beautiful asshole.”
Beautiful? What?
But Steve doesn’t have time to be shocked because he can feel the energy building, Byers’ fists shaking at his sides. He’s going to hit and he’s going to do it soon. He wants a fight, he’s wanted one for months and Steve’s not going to deny him.
A perfect, vicious fight. He can have it.
“Oh, that’s rich, Byers, you goddamn hypocrite –”
That split second. Byers is not going to let him finish his sentence. This is what he’s made of.
This is him speaking the truth for once, spelled out in blood and bruises.
This is him finally – finally – surging forward and –
Kissing him?
What?
Like a thunderstorm. Like all teeth, all blood, all bruises.
Like a racing heart. In the Upside Down.
Like he has no idea what he’s doing. Like he has every idea what he’s doing.
Jonathan kisses like this is his worst nightmare and like this is a dream and like this is what he had before he lost it. Like he’s missed all his chances and like he doesn’t know what he’ll regret more: kissing Steve or not kissing him.
Like he hates Steve so, so much, but…
But…
Oh.
Oh.