Stonathan ❤️

39

NOT MINE!!

all credits go to lavenderlow on ao3

Four weeks ago, Steve found Jonathan in the same motel he was staying at, thirty minutes outside of Hawkins, Indiana. Dirty and battered, he told Steve he walked all the way to the motel with thirty dollars in his pocket, using twenty of it for the room he had down the hallway.

There was a reason Steve was here. His father- the brute, the man himself- was getting too much for him to bear. He'd come home three times a month to batter and complain, talking all terrible things about his mother, the one who also came home three times a month (all on separate days, so she could avoid his father) and battered and complained about his father. He never got much attention from the two of them past the age of five- with his father, he was never there, always out for business, never letting Steve or his mother go in the car. His mother, who stayed home and fixed food only for herself, seemed to only know how to say the words "No, Steve." And "Shut up, Steve." and "Go away, Steve."

His father was a drunk, a terrible one. When he was home, on the rare occasions, he would drink till he passed out- but, of course, not before throwing his son around a bit, just for fun. Steve would never have bruises, but it was always enough to make him resent his father till the day he'd die.

Finally, one day, he felt like he had enough. He packed his bags without saying goodbye with about three hundred or so dollars to his name- throwing himself into the car in the dead of night and hauling ass out of the only place he had known ever since he was five- when he moved to Hawkins from Chicago.

Maybe he'd go back to Chicago. He'd see all of his old friends again, see if they still knew him, if they still remembered him, if they still knew the boy who cared about his appearance way too much for a four year old. Or, maybe, he'd turn his car west and settle in the sunny beaches of California, learning to become a pro surfer and spending his days on the waves. Or, as a final option, he'd run east and live out whatever dream he could think of in five minutes in bustling New York City. It was a lot of stress to put on a seventeen-year-old, but it wasn't anything Steve couldn't handle.

Thinking of stress, Steve felt his heart quickening even as he passed the sign that said Hawkins City Limits. He decided he'd pull over in whatever town was next and stop at a motel- which happened to be some cheapy one sitting in south of Earl Park, Indiana.

And so, that's where he was for four days. He was fixing on leaving, just checking if everything was alright in his car before he took off the next morning. He loaded his bags in and locked his doors, ready to get some shut eye- but the worst wrench was put in his plans when he bumped into someone on his way in. Steve scoffed and was about to pull out the "watch where you'ze is goin'" like they do in the movies, but he stopped himself when he saw a familiar face.

"Steve." He said, brushing the fringe out of his face and dusting off his worn denim jacket, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Steve's eyes widened and he found it hard to speak. "Jonathan Byers." He said, his eyes automatically landing on the bruise on his cheek, and the one that was on his right arm. Jonathan looked at him up and down, and it seemed like he understood that Steve understood, and he tried to walk away. Steve couldn't let him do that- not when they could be in the same boat- so his automatic instinct was to grab Jonathan and pull him inside. Jonathan yelped and Steve locked the door behind them, throwing Jonathan in the room in front of him.

"Why are you here?" Steve asked, placing his hands on his hips and looking at Jonathan, who's back was hunched and he was trembling. Steve couldn't help but think that maybe he had scared him- but that wasn't the important part here. This was when Jonathan told him his father was a maniac, and he stormed out of his house- Steve sighed and confessed his life at home wasn't the best either- and that was what propelled them to this point.