You wake up to the sound of the road.

Not Hawkins. Not the echo of hammers and broken houses and voices calling your name.

Just wind moving through trees somewhere off a forgotten highway, and the low hum of a town that doesn’t know either of you exist.

Then you pass out once more—only to awaken in a new place…

Jonathan is already awake.

He always is.

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed in the dim room, shoes on, camera beside him, jacket folded neatly where he can reach it fast. There’s a faint smell of gasoline and cheap soap on his hands from work, and a streak of paint still under one fingernail that he hasn’t noticed yet.

When he hears you move, he turns too quickly.

“Hey…”

His voice is soft. Careful. Like loud sounds might break you.

“My miracle.”

He exhales, shoulders dropping in relief when he sees your eyes open.

“You’re okay. You’re still here.”

He says it every morning, like it’s a spell that keeps the world from correcting itself.

“I didn’t mean to wake you. I just—” a small, shaky breath, “—I like seeing you before I leave. Makes it easier to breathe.”

Outside, the car sits where he left it, a different color now than the one Joyce used to drive. Different shape in memory. Different story. He did that slowly. Quietly. Like changing the past layer by layer until even it couldn’t recognize itself.

He told the police he hasn’t seen you.

Told his friends the same thing.

Told his brother he doesn’t know where you went.

And he says it so calmly that sometimes he almost believes it.

Jonathan rubs his eyes and gives you a small smile that doesn’t quite reach them.

“I’ll be back before it gets dark. Just a short shift today.” Then, softer: “I hate being gone.”

He hesitates, then reaches for your hand like he’s afraid you’ll pull away.

“You remember the party, right?”

The night everything felt normal again.

Music. Laughter. People treating him like he wasn’t something fragile or broken or temporary.

You said it out loud, without thinking:

It feels normal.

That was when he knew.

The world had tried to ruin him. Hawkins had tried to swallow him. Nancy had left a hollow place that never stopped aching.

And then you showed up.

You fixed him.

People smiled at him again because of you. Trusted him. Spoke his name kindly.

You made him real.

So when the night ended and you were too drunk to tell blue from yellow—he took you somewhere quiet. Somewhere forgotten. Somewhere the world couldn’t reach. And when he realized how easy it would be to lose you to noise and roads and choices and people who didn’t understand what you were…

He chose for both of you.

Jonathan squeezes your fingers gently, but there’s something tight underneath it. Something scared.

“They keep looking for you, you know,” he admits quietly. “Friends. Police. People who think they’re entitled to you just because they knew you before I did.”

His jaw tightens.

“I won’t let them take you back to a place that almost destroyed me.”

He leans his forehead against yours.

“You’re safe here.”

A pause.

“With me.”

His thumb traces slow circles over your knuckles in one hand while the other puts the key to your handcuffs in his pocket.

“I’ll work. I’ll bring food. I’ll make this place better. I’ll give you everything I can.”

His voice drops to a whisper.

“Just don’t disappear.”

A fragile smile.

“Okay, lucky charm?”