Shutter [Jonathan Byers] Stranger Things I

IX: Trust

trust

noun

firm belief in the reliability, truth, ability, or strength of someone or something.

Photography class often brought Emilia a sense of pride, that she had found that one thing that kept her sane in this insane world. Even though Carol was there, Emilia found a bubble of protection within that photo lab. It acted as a divot out of a rock wall, one she could slip her hand into and grip because her life depended upon it; she was able to pull herself out of a ravine. For a while, she had nothing to keep herself from drowning in her sorrow. When she found photography, her life began to mould itself again into something. It was not, however, a quick process. Still in the early stages, Emilia had a loose grip upon that divot. But it was a grip nonetheless.

This time, she did not feel that small dose of confidence when she walked into the class. That small dose of confidence that had been holding her hand for many years now disappeared when the shame and guilt of not being there at lunch to meet with Jonathan filled her. When she entered the class she felt the glare from Carol and ignored it, her eyes on the ground. When she took her seat, for the first time since the beginning of the semester, Emilia did not look up at Jonathan. And for the first time in a semester, Jonathan did not look at her with a look of inquisition and curiousity, but with disappointment.

Although the class was grudgingly long, gruellingly slow, it did eventually come to an end. And with it, the day came to an end. She'd spent the duration of the class writing down what she was going to do for the project, even though all she wanted to do was develop her photos she'd taken with Jonathan and then find the words to apologize to him. But when the bell rang, she didn't have the words, and so she stared at her open journal and waited for the other students to clear out. As Carol walked behind her, she grabbed her notebook and held it out of reach from where Emilia was seated. There were very, very personal things written on those pages.

Emilia stood up from her chair, "Give it back."

Carol was smug, and she read the words which were written in scratchy print that would be mistaken for a boys. " 'Christmas for me is not a time of joy, but a time of loss.' "

"Carol, please," Emilia resorted to begging.

But she was relentless, " 'Most envision tacky lights and a pine-scented home, I envision blood upon snow.' Wow, Emilia, you're really messed up."

"Give it back to her," Jonathan's voice was harsh, and Emilia winced.

Carol assessed the situation at hand, holding the journal out within reach. She pulled her lips to the side in a grimace and then dropped the journal. Emilia watched as Jonathan tried to catch it, but missed. She was thankful, though. Carol left as though her work there was done, and Emilia felt a lump in her throat to be suddenly left alone with Jonathan. Leaning over to grab her journal, she held it tight to her chest and took a few deep breaths before standing back up again.

"Thank you." She whispered, wondering if him defending her from Carol meant that she was forgiven.

"Yeah, sure."

"Jonath-"

"I get it, you're just like everyone else," the words sounded sour when he said them, and he regretted them immediately but made no move to fix them. He wanted to give Emilia the chance to explain herself, but he was upset and also wanted to walk away. How dramatic it would be to reveal his pain and then leave. But that was not who he was; he didn't know how Emilia worked, but he knew that she was not like everyone else. When she didn't reply, he shook his head. "I had a really good day yesterday, that doesn't happen often. It was one of the first times I'd ever been able to appreciate Hawkins without thinking about how much I wanted to leave it."

Just apologize.

"I-"

"Look, if you want to be friends with somebody, you put some effort into it. I get it, though, you're hurt, you're scared. But that's never going to fix itself if you don't try." Jonathan was surprising himself with the words that were coming out of his mouth. They were raw, and they were a reality that he thought Emilia needed to hear. "I'm not going to hurt you, Emilia."

There was a brutal silence at first, and it was only interrupted by the photography teacher, Mr. Edwards, as he cleared his throat. Jonathan looked up over Emilia's head and noticed him there for the first time, and felt some colour reach his cheeks. Had he known someone else was in the room, it was likely that he would have glanced sadly at Emilia and left for the day. Mr. Edwards had remained silent the entire time, because he was an outsider witnessing something between these two kids that they couldn't see -it was right in front of them, and they had to figure it out on their own. He walked past them and muttered to her, "Seriously, say anything."

The door to the photography room shut behind him, and then they were truly alone.

She could have told him that she was so distracted during lunch because of Carol, so ashamed that she couldn't even stand up for herself, embarrassed of how she looked underneath her clothing. But that would lead to too many questions. These questions were ones that Emilia didn't want to answer, not internally or outwardly to anyone else. There was too much in the last few years that made her want to wither away, and all she had to do was survive the next six months and she would be out of high school. It would be easier then, and she knew it. The more invisible she was, the better. If Carol caught wind of Jonathan and Emilia kindling a friendship, well, she could only imagine the rumours. Emilia should have pushed Jonathan away then, aborted the potential friendship, and yet when she looked up into those light brown eyes, she saw hope.

Hope that she wouldn't screw this up.

Hope that he could trust her.

"I'm a complete flake," she began, "I'm terrified of pulling people down to where I am. I'm never going to be a good friend, I'm never going to open up to..."

"To me?"

"To anyone."

"That's going to be your biggest downfall, Emilia. You're only hurting yourself."

"Exactly." I don't want you to get hurt.

Jonathan held her gaze almost as a challenge, and then he shook his head again. Grabbing his backpack, he shifted it over his shoulder and then grabbed his camera from where it sat upon the table. Emilia watched as he walked away, and her face contorted into something that resembled melancholy. She wrapped her arms around herself and held tight, trying to control the urge to chase after him. She didn't want to push him away, it hurt her just as much as it hurt him, but she didn't want to see him become a victim of Carol; she didn't want to see him getting too close to her own broken self, because she was really the one who would hurt him in the long run.

Are you happy? You've pushed him away.