𝙏𝙀𝙀𝙉 𝙓 - Max Mayfield

- shut up, I'm trying to nap-

If you've never watched your closest friend in agony, Jordan could tell you—it's hell.

In the back of Hopper's truck, he held Sam's left hand in both of his, vision blurring as she woke screaming again.

"Sammy, I know... I know, but stay awake, please," he managed through tears. His shoulder throbbed where the Demodog had bitten him, but it felt like nothing compared to the gash in Sam's side. When they pressed down on her wound and she writhed in pain, he wanted to shove everyone aside and cradle her to his chest.

His eyes flicked up. 'Why Sam? Why her?'

"If you can hear me, breathe slowly... please, for me," he squeezed her hand gently. "Can you do that?"

No response—but then her breathing shifted. Slow. Deliberate.

"Well... this is a hole new... gaping issue..." she whispered.

Jordan blinked. Stared at her. Then at Lucas. Then he laughed—breathless, broken—because of course Sam would make puns while bleeding out.

"Doctor Sinclair, Doctor Buckley..." Sam's voice was barely there. "Am I... gonna make it?"

Jordan's laugh turned into a wince as pain shot through his shoulder. He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. "You're doing great, kid..."

"What is wrong with you two?!" Lucas hissed. "You're both bleeding and cracking jokes?!"

"Jay and I have... great humor..." Sam whispered.

Jordan opened his mouth to respond—

—and the world tilted.

His grip on Sam's hand loosened. He felt himself falling backward.

"No no no, not you too!" Lucas yelled. "Hopper, Jordan's going out!"

Max caught him before he hit the floor, cradling his head in her lap. "Hey—hey, stay awake, okay? Keep your eyes on me."

"Quit worrying, Max..." Jordan slurred. His eyelids were so heavy. "Can't even... feel it... numb... helps..."

"Jordan. Jordan, stay awake!" Maya's voice came in, sharp with panic.

"Shut up... trying to nap..." he mumbled.

Max was saying something. Everyone was yelling. And he could've sworn his hand was still holding Sam's when everything went black.

At least his brain could finally be quiet.

---

Sam walked into the muted glow of the Byers' living room lamp.

Steve had just finished bandaging her side. The pain was dulled now—sharp only when she breathed too deep. She moved slowly, wincing, and looked around.

Everyone was there. Alive. Exhausted. Watching her with relief and worry.

Then her eyes landed on the couch.

Jordan.

Unconscious. Shirtless. A blood-stained gauze wrapped around his shoulder. His face looked peaceful—but his lips were moving.

She stood, ignoring the pull in her side, and crossed the room. No one stopped her.

She knelt beside him.

"...make them stop..." he whispered. His brow furrowed. "...please..."

Sam's breath hitched.

First Bob.

Now Jordan lying here, whispering to ghosts.

Her chest tightened. She'd just finished crying in the bathroom—thrown up everything in her stomach after realizing Bob was gone. And now this.