Chapter Text
Jonathan hated the mere idea he got angry. At Dustin of all people. Because he knew he had no reason for snapping at him, in truth he should act as an older brother, give him a hug, tell him he understood and that things would be alright, he could be angry and sad and everything, but not blame himself. Yes, Jonathan knew that was what he was supposed to do, he was old enough to act that way, and Dustin needed it.
Instead he snapped.
The problem was, he would have snapped at anyone in that moment, even his own brother, and he hated himself for that. Dustin had simply been in the wrong place, saying the thing at the wrong time.
Yes, Jonathan was going to apologize to him, and hug him, and tell him he was wrong, and ask forgiveness. And Dustin would forgive him, because Jonathan would explain himself this time. Once he was ready.
Except for now he didn't see himself getting ready to explain anything. He saw himself broken into pieces, his heart hurting, his throat dry and raw from screaming and crying as Wayne Munson held him in his arms. Because in the end no one mentioned Eddie more than necessary, and he went to the one person he would surely know something. And that was how he found out. That was why he snapped.
He was hurt. Hurting .
He felt hollowed, like bits and parts of him had been snatched out of his body and he was left to live with everything left, and it wasn't a lot. Because Eddie was gone. Eddie was dead. Eddie was--
Jonathan hadn't wanted to get angry and snap at Dustin, he just... It hurt. Everything hurt so much. He wanted to carve his heart out and drop it and leave it. He wanted to-- he wanted to join Eddie. Fuck . He really wanted to join him. Be with him.
The thought hit him unexpectedly, after some time that it left him alone. It would be easy, he thought, vertical lines, faded scars looked back at him when he looked at his arms.
It had been Eddie, the first time, to stop him. It had been Eddie who found him. He was glad of that, he was glad it hadn't been Will. But now Eddie was gone, and the thought knocked softly at his mind. Perhaps... Perhaps it wouldn't hurt that much anymore if he gave in.
But there was a war coming, he couldn't exactly clock out and be done with it, who would protect Will?
(yes, but who was protecting him? Who protected Eddie? No one. Maybe he could give in. Like a coward. Was he a coward? What would Eddie say?)
"You know... Dustin didn't mean it that way, what he said. It's just because he doesn't know." Will's voice cut through his spiraling thoughts, a pale ray of light, blink and it was gone.
"I know. I shouldn't have snapped."
"You just found out your boyfriend's dead, Jon. You're allowed to snap or whatever you feel. Just because people don't know it doesn't mean you have to keep emotions to yourself."
Jonathan hummed, he forced his mind to focus on his brother's voice instead of drifting toward the void. It would be easy to get lost in the void, there had been times, when his control faded, when the void was so easy to reach. He didn't do it again since the day they found Will, since the day their mother asked him, begged him, to do it after saying the contrary over and over again for a lifetime. But it was for Will's sake. Jonathan didn't have to be asked to do it.
"But I need you, here." Will said again. Did he know? Or perhaps he noticed when he began spacing again. Jonathan blinked and nodded.
"I know. I won't-- I won't go. I won't try it. I promise."
"I was thinking of that." he touched his arm, the faded scars. He didn't need to raise the sleeve to know they were there. "but the powers count too."
Jonathan hummed again, he lowered his head on Will's shoulder and sighed.
"I know. And I will apologize too... I just need to stay there a little longer. I need--"
Will slipped something in his hand, before raising to his feet.
"It's alright. I'm here for you, okay?"
The d20 he slipped in his hand was the one Eddie gave him, the one they exchanged and Jonathan had probably dropped earlier, or left it on the bed. He held on to it, curled on himself and cried. He thought he dried up all the tears left in him, he was wrong.
In the end, he didn't need to use his powers, not even accidentally. He didn't even think of it. He was walking back to the cabin after checking in with Wayne, he promised to do it, not to leave him alone, not to be a stranger. Wayne liked him from the moment Eddie brought him home the first time.
He tripped on a root and fell, slamming his face on the ground. Great, now, on top of a crying-induced headache he was gonna have a bruise too.
When he stood and looked around he immediately noticed the change.
"fuck... Oh, fuck fuck ... Did I drift accidentally? Did I lose consciousness and--"
A growl made him turn, finding himself face to face with a demodog. Cursing again he turned and ran.
He didn't end up running far before the demo dog came on him, or perhaps it was a different one. Jonathan tried, he really tried, to move on the side, avoid impact, any kind of impact. Usually drifting meant it was only his consciousness walking around, he would feel pain, but no damage would come to his body.
Which meant--
He tripped, a sudden, sharp pain erupting from his arm, he bit his lip hard not to scream and attract more creatures.
He rolled on the ground, over rotting leaves, and vines and rocks. He rolled and rolled and tumbled down, the growling fading, the pain stronger than ever.
It took him long, long minutes before finally opening his eyes after he stopped. His head hurt, he felt dirt over his face and mouth. His arm hurt like hell, the sleeve sticking to it, wet. When he looked down, in the dim lights, he saw red. Bright, expanding on the ripped shirt, dripping on the ground. He felt faint.
Injuries didn't occur in drifts, because his body wasn't a real body. Yet now he was bleeding fast. It wasn't right.
It wasn't caused by his powers either, it was clear by then. Painfully clear.
Well , he thought, trying to stand, holding his arm, pressing above the injury, attempting to slow the bleeding, at least they won't find me dead in the woods .
But perhaps they would never find him. Maybe he would never find his way home. He had no idea of how he ended there, how could he know how to get out?
But perhaps-- he stumbled, tried to regain his balance, held out his uninjured hand to grab a tree, missed and fell again with a groan. Perhaps he will stop hurting now. Perhaps he could be with Eddie, now. Would it be that bad? He thought of worse ways to get to that ending, no one would lay the blame on him, no one would call it a suicide. No one would know he didn't fight back.
But... But Will needed him. His family needed him. His friends, in this last, hopefully, fight against Vecna. They needed him.
Pushing himself up and sitting, he tore the shirt and wrapped it around the wound, not daring to look, blood kept seeping fast, as he dragged himself back on his feet and took some slow, tentative steps.
He had to find a way back.
He wanted to stop and lay down and rest .
He had to return home to Will.
He wanted to close his eyes and sleep and maybe not wake up.
Will, his little Will, needed him,no matter how grown up he would be. He would always need him, they were brothers, Jonathan swore to him.
He. He needed Eddie.
He missed Eddie. He missed his voice, and his laughter, and his warmth, and his arms wrapping around him, his chin resting on top of his head. He missed running his fingers through his hair. He missed grabbing his camera and taking random photos to immortalize any moment that happened. Half lidded eyes, looking up to him in a mixture of bliss and tiredness.
Eddie said that Jonathan had a power, not knowing the truth behind his words, and it was to steal someone's soul by capturing them in pictures. Or in smiles.
"My soul belongs to you from the moment Will dragged you in our little Hellfire lair and you looked at me; swear you won't ever give it back."
Jonathan felt like he took it to California with himself, leaving his own in Hawkins, and that was why he felt so lost and empty now.
Or perhaps it was the blood loss talking, he reasoned dazed. He stumbled and caught himself again, there was a trail behind him, little drops of blood that will surely attract every monster to him. Did it matter, at this point?
The makeshift bandage was wet and red, black spots danced in front of his eyes, shivers causing him to pause every few steps.
Maybe... Maybe he could rest, just a bit, just a minute or so. He was so tired.
Maybe-- maybe he would see Eddie again. In dreams.
He slid on the ground, his back against a rock, or whatever it was, and closed his eyes, feeling his breath slow as he slipped into unconsciousness, blood railed from the bandaged shirt in red lines over the faded scars.
Dustin paced by the door, looking worried, anxious.
"I think I've angered your brother a little too much." he mumbled, eyeing Will looking out of the window.
"no, he... He probably lost track of time. He does that sometimes. He's not angry at you, believe me. Actually..." he briefly hesitated, not sure where it was his place to say it or not. "he's angry at himself for snapping. He's just really stressed, this lately, with all the shit in California, and then here, and everything..."
"yeah... Where did he go, anyway?"
"Wayne Munson... That's Eddie's uncle, if I remember right..."
Dustin blinked, he frowned.
"Did he knows him? He knew Eddie?"
"yeah, he-- he knew him. Pretty well actually." he wanted to say more, he almost said more. Dustin only made a little " oh " sound, took place next to him, looking outside and waited. Soon Jonathan would get back to the cabin, and perhaps they could make it alright.
Or something along the lines.
Cold sweat rolled down his forehead, a shadow moved closer, stopping in front of him, crouching, holding a hand out and brushing on the pale face, eyeing the bleeding wound and the darker vein spreading from beneath the bandage.
" Jonathan ?"