Jonste

"What the hell's wrong with me..." He mumbles under his breath, splashing cold water in his face and shaking loose strands of hair off his forehead. "Ollie's a friend... A friend. A boy. A boy friend—" NOPE! Wrong line of thought, Byers! Male friend, he meant! Male friend. Not a boyfriend. No. A friend who happens to be a boy! Yeah, that's it. No boyfriend.

Jonathan huffs a little louder than intended and quickly goes to do his business in the bathroom, emerging from it some seven minutes later, with his teeth brushed, changed, and sprayed with a nice deodorant Joyce got from Melvald's. He opens the bathroom door, peeking outside—no one seems to be awake other than him—and heads to the kitchen, his socked feet thudding softly against the hardwood floor.

Besides his room, the kitchen is Jonathan's second-favorite room in the house. He just loves cooking, making coffee, baking cookies for Will and his friends, and arranging the drawers—teaching Joyce that knives, forks, and spoons are in the first drawer. Other kitchen utensils are in the second drawer; it is still an in-development project. Jonathan begins making breakfast, flipping some pancakes for Will, eggs for Joyce, setting some cereal on the table, making coffee, and squeezing some oranges for fresh orange juice. "Smells divine."

"ACK!" The boy practically jumps like a frightened cat when Oliver's voice suddenly fills the kitchen, and Jonathan swiftly turns around with his heart practically at his throat.

"Sorry, mate," Oliver smiles apologetically, leaning against the fridge and still clad in his pajamas. "Didn't mean to startle you."

Jonathan huffs, trying to calm his racing heart before turning his attention back to the stove and avoiding burning Joyce's scrambled eggs. "You're silent like a damn cat, Ollie," He playfully glares at his boyfriend, pointing the spatula at him. "I'm gonna make you wear a bell."

"Meow!" Oliver mimics the noise and winks at Jonathan—inadvertently almost giving Jonathan a heart attack—before walking in to help his friend with the food and set up the table.

Soon, Joyce joins the teens in the kitchen, dressed for work and running as fast as the damn Roadrunner—but misplacing things and forgetting where they are like the dumbass Coyote. Jonathan insists she sit down to eat, but Joyce merely gobbles up the food and takes a big gulp from her coffee mug before going back to search for her accursed purse, which seems to be nowhere in sight.

Jonathan wonders how long it will take for Joyce to realize her purse is strapped to her shoulder. It would seem quitting smoking made her more anxious and fidgety—but that's quitting for you; the accursed cravings will do anything for you to feed them again, but Joyce is resisting the urge like the brave trooper she is! For her sons. "You're not gonna tell 'er?" Oliver mutters to his friend, raising an eyebrow. Jonathan shrugs and makes a "meh" noise as he washes the dishes.

"She'll notice it," He says. "Eventually."

Oliver chuckles at his friend's indifference before peeking inside the hallway at hearing footsteps. The sleeping beauty—Will—rubs his little tired eyes as he joins the rest of the group, grabbing a bowl of cereal poured to him earlier by Jonathan before making his way to the living room. "Mornin'..." He mumbles, disregarding Jonathan as his older brother tells him not to eat in the living room. "I'm gonna watch the news!" The 12-year-old pouts and whines at his older brother before slumping down on the couch and turning on the device.

"On today's news, Hawkins Middle and High Schools are closed for fire department inspection—"

"Aaaand good night," Will turns off the TV and immediately turns to go back into his room, still clutching the cereal bowl.

"Ey, wait a second!" Jonathan calls his brother with an annoyed frown. "It's your day to take out the trash, Will—!"

"I'll do it later!" The boy's whiny, petulant voice echoes in the hallway before Will closes his bedroom door, much to Jonathan's annoyance.

"Tsk," The older boy clicks his tongue. "I'm gonna ground him for a week if he forgets to take out the trash again— Mom, it's on your shoulder!" Jonathan snaps at his mother as Joyce continues searching for her already-in-her-possession purse.

"Oh! Right," Joyce slaps her own forehead before rushing to grab her car keys from the kitchen counter, giving Jonathan and Oliver goodbye kisses and rushing to give one to Will as well before leaving for work.

Once Joyce leaves the house, the British boy turns to face his friend. "Quite the lively home you have." He smirks, taking a sip from his glass of juice. "I'm jealous."

Jonathan scoffs and rolls his eyes. "Jealous? Of this?!" He gestures to their surroundings—the messy kitchen and living room, where Will and Joyce were just seconds ago. There's no way someone in this world is jealous of the Byers.

"Yeah." Apparently, there is. "It's nice, you know? To have a lively home. Feels cozy. Mine is so... Quiet." Oliver's voice dropped to a low whisper. His green eyes fell slightly before the boy immediately shrugged the sadness away and resumed his friendly, charming, and funny personality—though it didn't escape Jonathan's sharp senses. "Though I reckon my opinion is biased because I like you and your family, mate." He chuckles softly, his words causing Jonathan to choke in his own spit and avert his gaze as his cheeks flush pink.

He clears his throat after a while. "A-anyway, since school's cancelled for today, how about we go... Out...?" Wait, that sounded like he's asking Oliver out on a date. Rephrase it! "I mean... Do something, like... A-a car ride!"

"A car ride?" Oliver perks up at Jonathan's suggestion and nods with a smile. "Yeah, a car ride sounds fun! Lemme get changed. Be back in five!" Jonathan nods as he watches Oliver rush back into his room to change, then emerges precisely five minutes later, dressed in a yellow jumper, jeans, and red Adidas sneakers. He looks nice. Really nice. Jonathan shakes his head again, dispersing the thoughts, before standing up from the table. He grabs his old Converse shoes by the front door, quickly laces them, and grabs his car keys.

The Galaxie 500 rests in front of the house, shadowed by a nearby large tree, not that it would make a difference at this point to try to protect the car from the sun. The Galaxie looks like the Japanese superbattleship Yamato after being attacked relentlessly by more than 100 US aircraft; i.e., beaten as hell. But unlike the Yamato, which sank and let down the Imperial Japanese Navy during the last battles of the war, the Galaxie never let Jonathan down. It never failed him. A miracle, really, considering how old this car is.

Jonathan unlocks the car and steps inside, unlocking the passenger door for Oliver to get in, and turns on the engine. The old Ford roars to life like an old lion, and Jonathan grabs one of his many tapes from the glove compartment and puts it in the radio. David Bowie's voice takes over the interior of the car as Jonathan pulls out of the front lawn. Oliver bobs his head and drums his thighs to the song's tune—Hunky Dory.

"You have nice taste, y'know?" Oliver speaks up after a few moments of comfortable silence.

"You're just saying that because Bowie's English."

"Guilty as charged, Your Honor," Oliver smirks and raises his hand in a playful gesture of surrender. "But still, you have good taste. I like your tapes. Wonder when you're making one for me..."

"Make one..." Jonathan felt his cheeks growing warm, and his chest felt funny—tight, but warm, too. No one's ever asked him to make a tape, bar Will. Yeah, he'll make Ollie a tape. A good one. With some Clash, Beatles, Bon Jovi—he looks like he'd like it—maybe some Madonna, too. The Cure and some Toto. Oh, and Queen! Definitely add Queen.

Jonathan's mind raced with thoughts and ideas, all of them Oliver Bancroft-related, as he drove through the empty streets of Hawkins, drumming against the wheel to the song's tune, until...

"JONATHAN, STOP THE BLOODY CAR!" Until Oliver decided to give him a damn heart attack, startling Jonathan. He slammed his foot on the brakes, causing the tires to screech like Nancy Wheeler when she got a B- in Math—a painful noise.

He didn't even have time to turn at Oliver and curse at the boy as the ginger leaped out of the car, leaving the door ajar. "What the hell...?" He mumbles under his breath, parking the car on the side of the road before following after his friend as Oliver rushes to the tree line by the road and tucks his head between some bushes. "The hell's he doing?"

Jonathan approaches Oliver, the sound of dry leaves crushed under his shoes filling the air.

"Ollie...?" The ginger stands up as Jonathan stops right behind him and turns around, his hands cupped in front of his body, holding a small, frightened-looking bunny. Jonathan's eyes widen at the animal his friend is holding, then soften with worry.

"Must have gotten lost from the mother..." Oliver speaks, his voice hushed to avoid frightening the little creature. The bunny's ears flicked at the sound of the teenager's voice. It fussed a little in Oliver's hands as the boy shushed it gently. "Shhhh, shhh, calm down, you. It's alright. We mean you no harm." It would be criminal to have such a soft voice and charming, posh accent and be a threat—Jonathan's opinion on Oliver's British lilt. "We should take it to a vet. See if it's hurt."

Oliver's suggestion snapped Jonathan out of his thoughts, and he nodded, his head bobbing up and down quickly. "Yeah, yeah. Good idea. I know a vet close by. She takes good care of Chester."

Oliver nodded. "Lead the way, then."

Dr. Martinez is, in the Byers' opinion, the best veterinarian in all of Roane County. She's a miracle-maker, honestly, and is the only person they trust Chester with. Plus, she doesn't charge a fortune for the animals' healthcare. Dr. Martinez, 1; the United States' healthcare system, a big and fat 0.

Jonathan stands in a corner with Oliver, watching as the woman carefully examines the bunny. Poor little thing must be frightened from being around all these strange creatures. Jonathan can see that little pink nose sniffing the air; it must be trying to find its mother's scent.

"Is everything okay with it?" He asks with a soft tone.

Dr. Martinez finishes examining the bunny before gently placing it in a small cage. "Everything's fine," She says, turning to the boys with a soft smile. "Poor thing is just scared, but thankfully, no broken limbs or fractures."

Jonathan's shoulders relax at the vet's reassurance, and he lets out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. "That's a relief." He says, his voice low. "We should look after it. At least until it's grown into an adult." He turns to Oliver, whose green eyes are already sparkling with joy at the idea of taking care of a bunny.

"We should give it a name. Oh, I know! Diana!" He grins like a child on Christmas morning. "In honour of the greatest future Queen the UK will have!"

An amused snort escapes Jonathan. "Seriously?" He rolls his eyes fondly.

The vet chuckles softly at the boys' antics, giving Oliver the cage. "It's a wonderful name, dear," She smiles. "But I don't think it's a good name for your bunny."

Oliver's grin wavers, replaced by a confused stare. "Why not?"

"Well, for starters..." Dr. Martinez smirks. "It's a boy."

"... Ah," Oliver chuckles sheepishly, caressing the bunny's soft fur through the bars. "Well, that makes sense. Any suggestions, then?"

Jonathan looks at Oliver's curious face, then at the bunny huddled in a corner of the cage. "Well..." He starts. "He kinda looks like... Thumper."

"Thumper?" Oliver furrows his brow. "Like... The rabbit from Bambi?" He looks at Jonathan, then at the bunny, then back at Jonathan again. His friend is technically correct. The bunny does look like Thumper. Tiny and cute. "I suppose we have a name, then. Thumper."

Jonathan nods at his friend, a soft smile playing on his lips as he crouches to peer at the tiny bunny inside the cage. "Yeah. Thumper it is."

Oliver nods with a happy smile, looking at Jonathan and the bunny. How cute; they have the same big, adorable eyes. "You know..." He begins, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "We'll need to share custody of our child now, Jon."

"O-Oliver!" And there goes Jonathan's face, turning all red again. And that funny feeling on his chest returns, increased tenfold now. Why does Oliver have to say it like that?! And in Dr. Martinez's presence, on top of that?!