#jonathan: asks

@lunarruled sent: "And they tried to warn me about you." (for Jonathan Byers)

Jonathan's gaze flicking to her with a mix of caution and curiosity. He shrugged as if to say he didn’t care, but as he looked away, his eyes told a different story. ❝Yeah, well, people say a lot of things.❞ He murmured, his voice low. ❝Most of it’s probably wrong.❞

There was a mix of hurt, mistrust, but yet there was a stubborn spark that refused to disappear. ❝But … ❞ His voice dropped, a little quieter now, almost a confession. ❝I like being on my own. Not everyone’s cut out for the circus out there.❞

@formerfirstson sent: we worked it out last time. (for jonathan)

This was the kind of summer heat that made tempers sit right under the skin. Or maybe that was the excuse. Or maybe it was just him.

Jonathan huffed a small, humorless laugh. He finally lifted his gaze to TJ, dark eyes steady, but his jaw was tight before he spoke. ❝You think one conversation fixes what's happened?❞ His voice stayed low, even, but there was something sharp buried under it. ❝Fixes what your dad has let happen to my family?❞

Jonathan shrugged one shoulder, masking hurt with indifference in that way he always did. ❝I’m here because Nancy said you had information. That’s it. We don’t have to pretend we’re suddenly cool.❞

He slung the camera over his shoulder, stepping closer. ❝So if you’ve got something that can help us this time … talk. Otherwise, don’t act like we’re friends.❞

@loudbark--deepbite sent: 𝐟𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 : a cul-de-sac where every house is identical. the lawns are perfectly maintained but there is nobody in sight. the streetlights flicker. johnathan b?

It had gone too quiet. Not the kind of quiet that came after curfew in Hawkins, when the only sounds were crickets and the far-off hum of power lines. This was ... weirder. Jonathan’s shoes crunched against the perfect asphalt, the sound dull and swallowed before it reached the end of the cul-de-sac. Every house around him was a mirror image of the next — white siding, black shutters, two windows on top, one door below. Not a curtain twitched. Not a car in the driveway.

He turned slowly, camera strap digging into the back of his neck. He raised the camera halfway, instinctively trying to find something to capture, but all it saw was static symmetry. Like the world had been copy-pasted and then scrubbed of life.

But there was a figure, halfway down the block, standing dead center in the street. Shoulders squared. Watching him.

Jonathan blinked behind the viewfinder and zoomed in — a kid, maybe around his age, though it was hard to tell in the dim light. His clothes didn’t match the place.

@popularmxnster sent: ❛ here, i made some hot chocolate for you. ❜ (for Johnathan)

Jonathan hesitated before taking the mug, fingers curling carefully around the warmth. The smell of cocoa pulled tight in his chest with familiarity and comfort. Things he’d learned not to expect from people. ❝ … Thanks.❞ His voice was quiet, a little rough, eyes flicking from the steam rising off the cup up to Billy’s face, then away again. ❝You didn’t have to do that. But ... it’s nice.❞

@liftedrelics sent: that was uncalled for! - Steve @ Jonathan

@nysusmuses sent: that's some of my best work. - Eddie to Steve or Jonathan

Jonathan just stared for a beat, trying to suppress the small, crooked smile tugging at his mouth. ❝Yeah?❞ He said, leaning his elbows on the table. ❝You looking to win awards now? ‘Most Artistic Use of Rolling Papers’?❞

Despite the teasing, Jonathan reached out and plucked the joint from Eddie’s fingers, turning it over like he was inspecting a rare artifact. Truth was, it was a pretty clean roll. Cleaner than the ones he’d clumsily been rolling.

He set it back between them again, eyes lifting to Eddie’s with a quiet curiosity. ❝So … what’s the occasion? Avoiding impending doom? Celebrating the fact that your, I dunno, alive? Last I heard, you weren't.❞

@hargrove sent: 'There's nothing you can do.' - for Jonathan Byers

❝You can’t mean that.❞ Jonathan said quietly, more offering the words instead of forcing them.

But there was something in the way Billy said it — flat, final — that told Jonathan it wasn’t just about this. It was the kind of tone that belonged to someone who’d been told the same thing one too many times and started to believe it.

Jonathan took a slow step closer, keeping his voice low like he was talking to a spooked animal. ❝Maybe you think nothing can change, but I know what it’s like when it feels like the fight’s already over.❞ His eyes flicked over Billy’s face, searching for the cracks in that wall he always had up. ❝It’s not. You might not see a way forward, but that doesn’t mean it’s not there.❞