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Jonathan Byers hated Steve Harrington.
That was an easy conclusion to make. It made sense, right? I mean, Steve fucked up his teenagehood more than it already was, broke his camera, beat him up (even though he lost), insulted his brother and him.
Then why was it so fucking hard to say the same now, watching Steve driving Will home, leading him inside and patting his back before giving him over to Joyce?
If it was jealousy, Jonathan would’ve laughed at himself. Maybe it was his bad relationship with other men, maybe it was the loneliness he’s felt ever after Nance, hell, it might’ve been the cigarette he exhaled.
Regardless, he wouldn’t know what drove Steve to stay behind the door when it was closed and walk over to Jonathan who stood on the porch, and he wouldn’t know what drove him to stay there. To let Steve stand closer to him than he has in years.
Steve didn’t know either. to be fair, he never really thought before acting. But this time, instead of his instinct telling him to act reflexively to protect someone, it was just his heart dragging him over to the other young man.
Despite the awkwardness Jonathan felt, the presence warmed him just a little. Maybe it really was the cigarette. He didn’t know what the hell made him speak up, voice raw and slightly rough from the smoke. “I think I know what you felt like. Yknow, after nance.” The words didn’t feel right leaving his mouth, but his heart ached slightly less.
Steve, who was now looking at him with faked calmness, also seemed confused by the other man’s decision to speak. He was fully prepared for a five minute silence, and then going back to his car.
He cleared his throat awkwardly, looking off into the stars above them. “Yeah. Crazy what a single girl can do to you, huh?” He joked lightly, internally hitting himself. But he didn’t need to do that internally, thanks to the still sore gash on his head from the mall incident.
The memory of that pain made him wince.
That small jerk seemed to catch Jonathan’s attention, so naturally, not knowing how to comfort someone, he offered Steve his cigarette.
To both their surprise, Steve took it.
Though he never really smoked, it relaxed him momentarily. They stared at the sky together, wordlessly, letting the anxiety and stress of it all melt away for just a moment.
“I’m sorry.”
Steve’s words slipped out against his will, but in the end, he didn’t regret it. Jonathan deserved to hear it. “For, you know, being a dickhead to you and will. Few years back.” He clarified awkwardly, trying to ignore the way Jonathan stared at him.
Jonathan often smoked because of the stress. It relieved him and loosened his lingering worries and anxieties.
But damn, did that shit make him so vulnerable.
Before either of them knew it, the brunet was pressing the back of his hand to his eyes. He hasn’t cried in ages, and it felt shameful. But at least Steve didn’t do much but look at him empathetically.
Steve was an idiot. It wasn’t hard to figure out.
But damn, he didn’t expect the stab in his heart when he realised he didn’t know how he could comfort Jonathan, of all people. He never thought the conversation would get this far.
After a few quiet sniffles, Jonathan was staring back at the sky, giving up and simply ignoring the glossiness over his eyes. “I never thought I’d hear that. ‘Specially from Steve the hair Harrington.” He chuckled wetly, turning to shamelessly stare at Steve.
“But I think it’s kinda useless. You weren’t wrong anyways.” He sighed, the tiny smile on his face twisting into a grimace.
Steve stared back, bushy eyebrows slowly relaxing when he realised he was creasing them. He felt guilt once again shamelessly stab him in the stomach, processing what Jonathan meant. But that smart one, voiced exactly what he meant for poor Steve. “I think I am a f*g. I should be grateful dad isn’t here, I’d be shot dead if I ever said that.” He sighed, hand going back to rub his eyes, trying to free them of the tears that kept coming.
And once again, Steve acted on instinct, coming closer and wrapping his arms loosely around Jonathan’s shoulders.
It felt weird, to have someone’s body against his own. The chilly autumn breeze didn’t feel so chilly anymore.
He quickly felt his shoulder dampen, and Jonathan’s tense figure melt into him. A weird feeling, truly. But it was not a demogorgon kind of weird. A good kind of weird. Cozy and warm.
The cigarette was still in Steve’s hand, but he dropped it and quietly put it out with his shoe. The last thing Jonathan needed right now was more weed. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever heard anyone cry so hard, yet so quietly.
He guessed it was a byers family tradition. That was a sad thought.
Steve really couldn’t process when he felt chapped, abused lips against his ones. He didn’t expect that, but he figured why the fuck not, and so Steve Harrington and Jonathan Byers were making out on the byers porch on a random autumn night.
It was a daze, but all Steve really managed to process was the way Jonathan’s hands pressed against his back, burning the feeling of the contact into Steve’s body. The way they swayed gently, hiding their flushed faces in each other. That safety they both lacked for so long.