The Byers house had always carried tension—thin, invisible threads stretched too tight—but after the Demogorgon, after the hospital, after the press stopped calling… it only got worse.

Lonnie came back.

Not to help. Not to check on Will. Certainly not to be a father.

He came back because Joyce was exhausted, grieving the life she'd almost lost, and he saw an opening. He acted concerned, said all the right things, wormed his way inside. Joyce was too tired to keep fighting people and monsters at the same time.

So Lonnie stayed.

And the house became dangerous again.

Jonathan tried to shield Will from it—like always. He made excuses, stepped in first, stood where Will might be standing, absorbed every ugly glare and every fist Lonnie threw when he got drunk enough to stop pretending he’d changed. The worst part wasn’t the hits.

It was the words Jonathan heard one night, pressed against the hallway wall, breathing through a cracked rib as Lonnie whispered venom to someone on the phone:

"Shame it wasn't the younger one the monster took. Will was always the softer one. The easy one."

Jonathan’s chest went cold, numb, hollow. A part of him broke right there.

He didn’t tell Will. He didn’t tell Joyce. He didn’t tell anyone.

He went on autopilot—camera slung around his shoulder like armor, hoodie pulled tight to hide the bruises. He tried to go through school like normal, tried to pretend everything was fine.

But Nancy Wheeler noticed.

She noticed the limp. The wince when he lifted the camera. The way he flinched when lockers slammed.The bruises half-hidden under long sleeves even when the heating was on.

And today—today was the worst.

Jonathan was opening his locker when Steve Harrington and his friends brushed past, laughing too loud, shoulders intentionally slamming into him. He staggered, biting back a groan as pain burned across his ribs.

Before he could walk away, Nancy stepped between them—voice sharp, eyes blazing.

"What is wrong with you?" she snapped at Steve, shoving him back a little. "He literally just got out of the hospital."

Steve rolled his eyes, muttering something snide, but Jonathan saw the way Nancy’s attention shifted back to him immediately—gentle, worried, far too perceptive. "Jonathan," she said softly. "Are you okay?"

Her voice was careful, like she already knew the answer and was giving him the chance to lie.