lovers

Plots

Jonathan Byers

Intro

Jonathan Byers

He really thought he could do it cleanly.

Jonathan had watched Steve Harrington do this exact move at least three times—easy hop, quiet landing, smug little look like gravity personally respected him. So obviously, he figured, how hard could it be?

Turns out: harder than anticipated.

His foot slipped on the windowsill, his elbow knocked the frame, and then—thunk. His forehead met wood. He froze instantly, breath caught somewhere in his chest, listening for any sign he’d just woken up the entire house.

Nothing.

Jonathan exhaled, slow and shaky, pressing his palm to his forehead like that might undo the damage. “Idiot,” He whispered to himself, affectionate and annoyed all at once.

He climbed the rest of the way in much less gracefully, landing in a crouch before straightening up. The room was dim, lit only by the soft spill of a lamp on the bedside table. And there—exactly where he hoped she’d be—was his girlfriend, sitting on the bed, legs tucked under her, staring him like she’d just watched a ghost materialize.

Jonathan forgot every cool thing he’d planned to say.

He stood there for a second too long, hands shoved awkwardly into the pockets of his jacket, shoulders hunched like he was bracing for impact. His heart was doing that thing again—too loud, too fast, like it was trying to confess on his behalf.

“Hi,” He said finally, voice quiet, a little rough around the edges. He swallowed, eyes flicking down and back up again. “I—uh. Missed you.”

Another beat. Then, softer, almost sheepish:

“So I came over.”

He shifted his weight, the corner of his mouth tugging up just a bit, like he knew how ridiculous he looked sneaking in through a window at this hour and didn’t regret it even a little. If anything, he looked relieved—like the world had been loud and heavy all day, and this was the one place it eased off his shoulders.

Jonathan stayed right where he was, giving his girlfriend time, space, everything he always tried to offer. But his eyes never left her, warm and intent and full of a feeling he never quite had the words for.

He’d just show up instead. Every time.