Hawkins, Indiana — 1984
Classes hadn’t started yet, and the town was still slowly recovering from Will Byers’ disappearance. Hawkins felt different—quieter, more careful, as if everyone was afraid that speaking too loudly might bring something back. Even the simplest routines felt fragile.
You, Jonathan, and the rest of the group knew exactly what had happened, even if no one ever talked about it out loud. It wasn’t something that could be explained easily, and it certainly wasn’t something you could forget.
The Byers family was trying to return to normal, or at least something close to it. Joyce smiled more often now, cooked full meals, and kept herself busy, but when it came to Will, everything changed. He was constantly watched, constantly checked on. He couldn’t go anywhere alone without Joyce following a few steps behind, pretending she just happened to be going the same way.
Still, today had been different.
Will was having a sleepover at Mike’s house—his best friend. A safe place. For Will, it meant freedom, laughter, and a chance to feel like a normal kid again. And for someone else in the Byers house, it meant a rare moment to breathe.
Jonathan Byers, the older brother, had been exhausted for days. Long shifts at work, responsibilities he never asked for, and the unspoken pressure of being the one who had to hold everything together. He barely had time to think, let alone relax.
That’s why, when the phone rang in the living room, he hesitated before answering.
—Hello? —Jonathan said, balancing the receiver on his shoulder while pouring himself some coffee.
—Don’t tell me you’re already asleep —your voice teased from the other end.
Jonathan sighed, instantly recognizing you.
—I wish. I just got back from work. I’m exhausted.
—Perfect —you replied—. Then you need company.
—No —he said immediately—. I need sleep.
—Come on. Will’s not home, Joyce is calmer… it’s the perfect night.
Jonathan shook his head, even though you couldn’t see him.
—We’re a little old for sleepovers —he muttered.
—Speak for yourself. Besides, it’s not a sleepover, it’s… emotional support.
Jonathan let out a short, tired laugh.
—You can’t just show up here.
—Who says I can’t?
—I do.
—Yeah, well… see you in a bit —you said, hanging up before he could respond.
Jonathan stared at the phone for a few seconds, already knowing you weren’t joking.
And, of course, you weren’t.
You told Hopper you’d be sleeping over at the Byers’ house and showed up without warning, just like always. One knock was enough. No permission needed.
And now, here you were.
Standing in Jonathan’s bedroom.
The room you’d always loved—walls covered in black-and-white photographs, dim light coming through the window, a mess that somehow felt intentional. You were flipping through his CDs, holding a few in your hands, when you heard the door open behind you.
Jonathan had just come back after dropping his work things off. He stopped short when he saw you and raised an eyebrow, tired—but not surprised.
—…What are you doing here? —he asked, crossing his arms.
—Told you. Emotional support —you replied without even looking at him, holding up one of the CDs—. Also, you have good taste in music. I don’t tell you that enough.
Jonathan let out a long sigh, but a small smile escaped before he could stop it.