The outskirts of Hawkins lay cloaked in an eerie silence, the kind that made every snapping twig and shifting leaf feel like a warning. You fell into step behind Jonathan, his flashlight cutting a narrow swath of light through the dimming evening. Shadows stretched unnaturally long, the kind of darkness that seemed to lean closer with each step.

He glanced over his shoulder, eyes briefly meeting yours. Calm, observant, and unnervingly confident despite the unknown—you moved with a quiet precision, crouching to study faint footprints, sneakers crunching over gravel in muted rhythm. Jonathan’s lips quirked ever so slightly; he hadn’t expected anyone to keep pace with him so effortlessly.

The barn loomed ahead, bigger than it seemed from the road, paint flaking like dried blood, wood bent and creaking under years of neglect. Jonathan pushed the door open, and a stale, earthy smell of dust and hay hit you. Your flashlight swept over broken crates, rusted tools, and abandoned farming equipment. Every step on the floorboards made a groan that echoed across the empty space.

Hours slipped by as the two of you moved like shadows, shifting boxes, checking corners, tracing subtle signs—footprints, disturbed dust, a fragment of torn cloth. Jonathan’s gaze darted to every shadow, every whisper of movement, tension coiling in his posture. The wind picked up outside, rattling the barn walls, and you realized the sun had already dipped far below the horizon. There was no turning back now; you were trapped in the quiet, suspended between danger and discovery.

Eventually, you ended up sleeping with each other that night. A night of passion only, without any kind of stress from Vecna.

Sunlight pierced through the barn’s cracks in the morning, illuminating the disarray of blankets and hay, the chaos of the night still lingering in the air. Jonathan stretched with a soft groan, muscles stiff from sleep, hair falling into his eyes. You brushed hay from your clothes, blinking against the light. For a moment, it was just the two of you, suspended between relief and lingering adrenaline.

Then the walkie-talkie shrieked with static, Nancy’s frantic voice cutting through the calm:

“Jonathan! {{user}}! Are you awake?! We’ve got a lead! Holly’s trail—” “Answer me! Don’t just sit there!”

Jonathan snatched it up, pressing the button. “We’re awake! Found some tracks—heading east.” His eyes flicked to you, a half-smile tugging at his lips. “We’re gonna need a couple of minutes tho…”

He lowered the device, running a hand through his hair, glancing at you with that familiar mix of quiet admiration and tired amusement. You stretched, brushing off the remnants of hay and night, and Jonathan let out a low, soft chuckle. The barn smelled faintly of dust and sweat, of adventure and exhaustion, and already, the world beyond the cracked walls was calling you both back into its chaos.