Chapter Text
"They always leave, always leave you behind. You deserve better, more!"
...
"They will never choose you."
"They don't need to choose me for me to choose them."
***
Outside, the morning sun blazed, yet its light did little to warm the ground. Its brilliant rays struck Jonathan directly in the eyes, forcing him to squint, but they brought no heat whatsoever. This year's summer in Hawkins was proving to be abnormally chilly: frost still clung to the grass, even though the sun had been shining for ages. A t-shirt and shorts were out of the question.
Jonathan pulled his dark brown jacket tighter around himself, clutching an old camera in his slightly reddened hands. He had been thinking about buying a new one all this time, even getting the money for it, but it just never worked out. The money was needed elsewhere, in more important places, and he couldn't afford to be wasteful for a hobby that didn't even feed him. Jonathan was an adult, he had many worries, and some silly photographs, which he should have outgrown, had long ceased to be among his concerns. Although, nevertheless, now, when it becomes particularly difficult to breathe at home, he still resorts to the old ways: he grabs his camera and hurries into the forest, hoping to find solace in the only thing that makes him himself.
Jonathan absolutely did not want to be in Hawkins right now. He liked New York, he liked that dingy dorm where he lived throughout the school year. There he felt free and normal; here, at home, he found it hard to breathe. Here he was a freak, there he was a quiet and mysterious young man. Although Jonathan knew it was only a matter of time before they considered him strange there too, he still breathed easier in the big city.
If it were up to him, he would never return to Hawkins, but his mother insisted, saying she missed him and asked him to visit. And Jonathan, who always had a soft spot for his small, nervous, beloved mother, of course, returned at her first request. He truly believed she missed him. And perhaps Joyce really did miss him, but he was needed here more as a helper with household chores than as a son, because his mother's new-old boyfriend – Hopper – was constantly working and wasn't accustomed to most domestic duties. Sometimes Joyce seemed to forget he was even there.
Jonathan wanted so badly to be angry with her, to be offended, maybe even to cut all ties in a fit of pique, but he never managed. All he could do was silently grieve, look with a hunted gaze, and wait to be noticed. To hear the words that he was truly needed here.
Pushing through the forest, Jonathan felt it getting colder.
"Perhaps from the tree canopies, which didn't let even a small fraction of the rays through?" he thought, frowning slightly.
It seemed like no one had walked in the forest for a long time, considering how overgrown the path was, to the point where it was even difficult to walk. This was unusual, because just last year Jonathan had blazed a trail all the way through here, and it couldn't have become like this in such a short time, but now it resembled a jungle.
"There are even vines," the guy chuckled to himself, "what is this even? It looks like beans."
Jonathan went deeper and deeper into the forest, stopping periodically to use his camera, but he didn't like the results. Yes, he hadn't developed the photos yet and didn't know what they looked like, but as soon as he took his eye away from the lens, the scene before him immediately ceased to be magical. Jonathan felt he was becoming more and more disappointed with the day. He had run away from home hoping to feel better, but obviously, he was out of luck again.
Jonathan didn't even notice when the birds stopped singing outside, and it became so cold that no jacket offered any protection. The sun's rays, less and less frequently, filtered through the treetops, plunging the forest into darkness.
When the cold became unbearable, Jonathan noticed a small spiderweb stretched between two bushes. The web was splattered with dewdrops, and it was barely visible itself. Byers wouldn't have seen it if not for the spider proudly perched upon it. It wasn't large, but it was bigger than any Jonathan had seen at home. Its body was longer, a black torso with truly long legs. Jonathan had never seen anything like it: it resembled other species so closely, yet there was something subtly off about it.
...Absolute stillness, as if it weren't even a living creature.
Byers crouched down and pointed his camera at the spider, trying to focus the lens on the tiny creature, but it seemed to refuse to work. Jonathan cursed, wiped the lens, but it didn't improve. He had to stand up to focus and figure out what was hindering the camera and, if possible, remove it.
And then his gaze settled on a sneaker peeking out from under a bush. The area there was particularly overgrown, with vines, presumably from beans, covering patches of the forest floor. They had clustered particularly densely around this bush.
"Did someone lose it?" Jonathan frowned and, carefully stepping over the spiderweb, headed straight for it.
Approaching the bush, Byers realized it wasn't just a sneaker; it was a leg. A human leg.
All the blood drained from his face, and the surroundings seemed to grow even colder. Jonathan immediately began to push his way through the bush, almost tearing it out by the roots. His trembling hands ripped away pieces of the growth, which seemed to have completely intertwined with the plants, protecting the person on the other side.
Having destroyed the unfortunate plant, Jonathan finally saw him – a boy, or rather, a young man, whose cheeks still bore a childish roundness. His face was pale, almost gray, and his chestnut hair was damp and disheveled. He wore loose blue jeans and a light t-shirt with yellow and red stripes, which exposed his arms, and oh, his arms... They were completely covered in black, wavy lines, and in combination with his gray skin, they looked like:
"...veins," Jonathan whispered.
Bayers froze for a few seconds, not knowing what to do. The boy looked as if he would fall apart from just one especially deep breath from Jonathan. He felt as if he had fallen into a trance, studying him: a small mole above his chapped and bitten lips, the thin skin around his eyes revealing veins, though not as prominently as on his hands; scattered here and there across his face were small scratches and bruises. While Jonathan had lived in Hawkins, he had never seen anyone like him—so where had this boy come from?
Jonathan only snapped out of his daze when he noticed the boy’s chest moving. Berating himself for his foolishness and inaction, he immediately pressed two fingers to the boy’s neck, trying to find a pulse.
One, two, three...
There was a pulse, but very weak; the chest moved barely noticeably, and the boy himself was as cold as if made of ice.
Jonathan hurriedly took off his jacket and draped it over the cold body. Help was needed—and fast. There was a road near the forest, and there was a telephone pole. He could call Hopper and summon a whole rescue team, but he had to move as quickly as possible.
Casting one last glance at the boy, Jonathan took off running at full speed. He didn’t know how much time he had before the situation became completely irreversible.