Kitty

Jonathan Byers x alt!user

Word count: 662

Disclaimer: this is my first post on here!! Don’t be too hard on me 💔

It was the height of the Satanic Panic in the 80s, when pearl-clutching adults were convinced that anyone in black eyeliner or a band tee was halfway to summoning demons. Wearing a choker? Instant public enemy. And you—being unapologetically alternative, in ripped tights, smudged kohl, and a stack of bracelets—were practically a walking target. People didn’t even try to hide it anymore.

The girls weren’t the worst; they mostly just whispered behind their hands and stared, their eyes flicking over you like they were inspecting something dangerous but fascinating. But the boys? They had no self-control. They insulted you to your face—your clothes, your hair, your makeup, the music you listened to. And anytime you even considered reporting it, you knew exactly what the adults would say: Well, look at the way you dress. As if you deserved it. As if you’d asked for it.

One of the few people who never gave you that look was Jonathan Byers. He didn’t gawk at you like you were a sideshow attraction, didn’t whisper when you walked past. He just… existed quietly. Always tucked behind his camera, eyes soft, expression unreadable. He was shy, kept to himself, and honestly? Kinda cute in that awkward, introverted way.

It was a slow Tuesday afternoon when you ducked into the record store—your sanctuary. The scent of old vinyl and dusty cardboard sleeves instantly calmed you. You wandered the aisles, flipping through albums, scanning for something actually worth listening to. The store was nearly empty, the only sound the faint hum of whatever cassette the cashier had playing.

Then you heard it—click. Soft, but unmistakable.

You froze, eyebrows knitting together. When you turned around, your eyes landed on Jonathan standing a few feet behind you, camera raised, cheeks pink like he’d just been caught stealing. He lowered the camera slowly, eyes wide.

You stepped toward him, suspicious but more confused than anything. “Are you… taking pictures of me?” Your voice wasn’t angry, just cautious, like you were bracing for something weird.

Jonathan swallowed hard. “Yes. But—it wasn’t for anything weird, I promise.” His voice cracked just slightly, and he pushed his hair out of his face, looking mortified. “I just… I thought you looked really good. The light was hitting you and… I don’t know. I was too embarrassed to ask. I’m sorry. I’ll delete it if you want.”

You blinked at him. Of all the reasons you expected, that wasn’t one of them. “Uh… you can keep it,” you said slowly, trying to process why he’d be scared to ask in the first place. “I don’t know why you thought I’d freak out, but I don’t mind.”

His shoulders loosened, and he let out a breath like he’d been holding it for minutes. “Oh…” He glanced down at his camera, fingers brushing the lens. “Thanks. Really.” He hesitated, shifting his weight. “Um… would it be okay if I took more? Pictures, I mean.”

You shrugged, a small smile tugging at your mouth. “Yeah. Sure, man.”

Jonathan’s face lit up—not dramatically, but softly, like someone turning up a lamp just a little. He raised his camera again, and for the first time in a long time, someone was looking at you not with judgment, but with genuine interest. And maybe something else.

Outside, the world still thought you were strange. But right there, between old vinyl and the hum of a forgotten cassette, you felt seen—not stared at. Seen.

Dubai labubu chocolate mood board lmao

I miss euphoria sm

Nothing you can take

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