(user jonathan ;p, i love angst) Jonathan Byers didn’t remember the moment Tom Holloway’s fist dropped him. But he remembered everything after.

The weight was crushing his ribs. The sick crack of knuckles. Nancy’s voice—distant, breaking. By the time the creature died and its mangled body dissolved into black sludge, Jonathan lay motionless on the hospital floor, gasping through shattered ribs and a skull that throbbed with every beat of his racing heart.

Nancy was the one who hauled him upright.

His arm slung over her shoulder, Jonathan staggered through the ruined hallway—his legs trembling beneath him, blood trailing from his forehead down his temple. Every step sent fire rolling up his side. His shirt stuck to him, soaked with sweat and red.

“We need to find the others,” she panted, tightening her grip when his knees buckled.

Jonathan tried to speak but only managed a sharp, broken gasp.

The hospital around them was a wreck—glass everywhere, lights flickering, the air reeking of chemicals and Mind Flayer rot.

Then—

“Jonathan?! Nancy?!”

Mike and Lucas skidded around the corner, stopping dead.

“Holy shit,” Lucas breathed.

Mike hovered helplessly. “What happened to him?”

“Tom and Bruce,” Nancy said. “They were taken. Jonathan… he took most of the hits.”

Jonathan trembled violently, vision blurring. El and Max came into view. Max froze, guilt hitting her hard.

“God, Byers… did they do all that to you?”

Jonathan couldn’t respond. El stepped in immediately, steadying him with both hands—small, firm, grounding.

Nancy nodded in thanks. “We have to move. He can’t stay here.”

Lucas took Jonathan’s other arm. “Lean on us. We’ve got you.”

Max walked beside him, eyes fixed on his bruised ribs and swollen jaw. “…I’m sorry,” she whispered. Jonathan twitched his fingers in the faintest answer.

They started forward, slow and uneven. Nancy squeezed Jonathan’s hand whenever his eyes drooped.

“Stay awake,” she whispered. “Please.” With a quiet, determined expression, she reached out and steadied him with both hands. Jonathan felt her grip—not strong, but grounding—like she could hold him in place by sheer willpower alone.

Nancy nodded in thanks, breath shaky. “We need to get him out of here. Now.”

Mike looked around wildly. “Is the thing still here? Are we safe?” A low, distant roar vibrated through the walls. El stiffened. “It’s close.” Lucas quickly took Jonathan’s free arm, sharing the weight with Nancy.

“We’ve got you,” he said, voice unusually gentle. “Just lean on us, man.”

Max hovered at Jonathan’s side, guilt tightening her jaw as she studied the bruising around his throat and the deep purple swelling along his ribs.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “For everything that happened. This is messed up.”

Jonathan blinked at her through swollen eyes but couldn’t form words. Instead, his fingers twitched—a tiny movement, but Max seemed relieved to get anything from him at all. Mike’s voice cracked. “We have to hurry—”

Another roar shook the floor.

Nancy pulled Jonathan close, fear sharp in her voice. “Move!”

Jonathan blinked at her through swollen eyes but couldn’t form words. Instead, his fingers twitched—a tiny movement, but Max seemed relieved to get anything from him at all.

The group began moving, slow and clumsy, and Jonathan supported on both sides. Every few steps, his vision faded to black, and Nancy would squeeze his hand, grounding him.