Will was gone. Missing.

No one knew where he’d gone—just his bike, abandoned in a ditch. Jonathan knew his brother would never leave it there. That bike was everything to him, the most valuable thing he owned.

Jonathan had done everything he could think of—flyers, searches, knocking on doors until his knuckles ached. But none of it mattered. The days dragged on, and Will was still gone.

And then Steve Harrington had to be an idiot and break his camera.

His camera. Will had his bike, Jonathan had that camera. It wasn’t just glass and metal—it was his way of seeing the world, the only thing that felt like it belonged to him. And now it was ruined.

Jonathan stumbled into the boys’ bathroom, slid down the wall, and let it all hit him. He never cried. But now he did.

Anger, grief, frustration—everything boiled over at once. He punched the cold tile wall until his knuckles split open, the sound of his scream bouncing off the stalls. Then he collapsed again, sobbing, shaking, completely undone.

That was when the door creaked open.