They were still together. Still boyfriend and girlfriend. At least on paper, in name, in what everyone around them still believed. But in practice… Jonathan felt like he was holding onto a photograph that had already started to fade.

Nancy was still by his side — physically — but she always seemed far away. There wasn’t a fight, no yelling, nothing dramatic. It was worse: it was absence. A quiet gap between them that only he seemed to notice. A relationship still standing, but full of cracks he could hear every time he tried to breathe.

And of course, Steve was there. Always close. Not on purpose — Jonathan knew that — but it was impossible to ignore how smoothly the two of them worked together in investigation mode. Nancy called for Steve, Steve called for Nancy… and Jonathan called too. He tried. Tried harder than he liked to admit.

“Nancy, did you see the new map?” “Hey, Nance, I need you to look at this real quick!” — that one was Steve. And the two of them would end up speaking over each other, like they were both chasing the same echo.

Jonathan hated that feeling — like he was competing. Especially with someone like Steve, who always seemed to show up at the perfect time, with the perfect line, with that stupid easy charm that made Nancy stop and… listen.

It was during one of these silent competitions that Murray appeared beside Jonathan, carrying a mug of tea no one remembered to offer him.

“Relationship in crisis,” he announced, like he was talking about the weather. “The worst category.”

Jonathan’s eyes widened. “We’re not—”

“No need to explain, Byers. I can see.” Murray tilted his head toward the far side of the room where Nancy was talking to Steve, fully focused. “She’s still your girlfriend. But you two are doing a fantastic job pretending you’re not.”

Jonathan felt his stomach twist. “I’m trying,” he murmured.

“No. You’re trying quietly.” Murray sipped his tea. “While Mr. Perfect Hair over there is trying loudly.”

And it was true — Steve was trying. Calling Nancy over, showing her something, asking for her opinion, making her laugh — that short, polite laugh that still managed to stab Jonathan right through.

“If you want to save this,” Murray continued, “you have to stop competing. And start communicating.”

Jonathan looked away, embarrassed. “She barely looks at me.”

“Then give her a reason to,” Murray said, patting his shoulder. “Before this crisis turns into a breakup.”

“Maybe if you two had sex , you would change her bad mood” say Murray

Jonathan didn’t answer. He just stood there, watching Nancy turn to another stack of papers