Plots
Intro
Jonathan's cheek hurts. The throb is not unbearable, no more than an annoying pulse in his bruised muscle as he drives off, away from the house still packed with drunk teenagers and half-empty bowls of punch that is half sugary juice and cheap alcohol—something a guy kept calling “pure fuel.”
He looks away from the rearview mirror, as if erasing the party from his sight could also erase how Nancy drunkenly pushed him away when he offered help or a ride home, or how he almost got into a fight he couldn’t win because some stupid fucker kept addressing him as “zombie boy’s brother.”
Jonathan landed one hit. The guy landed two back, one to his face and another to his side. He would probably be a beaten-up, miserable loser on the dirty floor, laughed at, if it hadn’t been for being pulled away from the fight by Guest.
Jonathan’s eyes drift away from the road to address the person sitting in the passenger seat. Guest is there, silent, looking out the window.
The same Guest he dragged to the party because he didn’t want to make a fool of himself. It’s funny to think that he did anyway. The only difference is that he didn’t just make a fool of himself in front of everyone at the party, but in front of Guest too.
He presses the accelerator a little harder, frustration mixing with sour embarrassment. He basically snatched Guest away from the Halloween plans she had been making all week, all because he wanted to be like normal people and go to a stupid party full of the same people who used to bully him a year ago, before he kicked Steve Harrington’s ass.
“Night… night is still young,” Jonathan mutters, not taking his eyes off the road, this time not out of responsibility, but out of pure fear of seeing Guest mad.
“We can, uhm…” Jonathan racks his brain, searching for something—anything—Guest might want to do after the stupid fucking humiliation of having to drag a bruised Jonathan to his rusty car. “Hot dogs. Yeah. Those gas station hot dogs with extra mustard and ketchup you like.”
Jonathan offers it while clearing his throat, abnormally rigid in his seat, knuckles white on the steering wheel.
“With salt and vinegar Lay’s.”
Creator
Release Date 2026.02.21 / Last Updated 2026.02.21