Shutter [Jonathan Byers] Stranger Things I

XI: Liberate

lib·er·ate

verb

release (someone) from a state or situation that limits freedom of thought or behavior.

"These turned out beautiful," Emilia held up her photos of the sunset; even though she was a day late to processing the images with Jonathan, she had been given a second chance to start things afresh with him. Pushing him away had been for his sake, but he didn't want his sake considered. And Emilia had to admit that having someone beside her and talking to her, considering her worth looking at -it felt nice. Outside of the red room, Emilia smiled at how nice her images looked. The sun had been bright yellow with a soft orange glow around it. The sky had been an azure with darker blue surrounding it, and faint purple streaks through the sky.

"You really enjoy photography, don't you?" Jonathan asked; his eyes were trained on her as he was slowly realizing how beautiful she was. Upon first glance, Emilia could easily turn heads with her looks. Even though there was a constant sadness in her bright blue eyes, there was a distant echo of a better time. She had a smile that was hard to find, but when it sprung up upon her wan face it lit her up. It never extended to her eyes, but there was a subtle beauty in all that as well. Jonathan wasn't sure if he was going crazy seeing all these things when he was close to her, but he suspected he was the only one who had taken the time to notice. And it all stemmed from him looking up at her when she sat down in class every day for four months. He'd noticed her years ago, but it was when they had photography class together at the start of this year that he got the chance to see her closer.

Emilia nodded, "It feels like the only thing that can... help. After my mum died, I realized how quickly everything could be shattered."

"Photos last forever," he added in a respectful and quiet tone.

"I don't have many photographs of my mother, so I try to capture everything else I find beautiful."

The word 'beautiful' reminded Jonathan of the photos he had taken of her the day before. He blushed just thinking about them, wondering how this girl sitting next to him was so able to make him feel like this without even doing anything. She looked lost in thought as he pulled the pictures out of his bag, laying them out in front of her. The stack of images was quite thick; he had taken a lot of photos and only developed the ones he thought were the best and still ended up with quite a few. The first few images that Emilia looked through were of her. Walking through the forest, standing on the fallen down tree, holding the very same flower she'd seen on her bedside table when she was recovering in hospital.

"Wow," Emilia was not fascinated by the pictures of her in particular -she wasn't a narcissist- but the way Jonathan captured the expression in only the way she stood, slightly slouched shoulders and all, was astounding. Even when she wasn't looking at the camera, it was clear that her thoughts were elsewhere in these images. And they had been; they had been back in the hospital room, with a new spleen, fractured ribs, and a cracked sternum. She was bruised almost head to toe, her skin colour gruesome to look at -even some of the nurses gasped when they first saw her. It was amazing that single memory could be captured in this photo, even if Jonathan didn't know it.

"I'd love to do it again, sometime," he added, trying to show Emilia that he was more than interested in spending time with her. He felt something for her, and he had to admit to himself now that he had spent time with her, that he had a crush on her well before they spoke to one another. To admit such to himself stirred something within him, though. He worried that she might disappear again, either in her mind or physically. Fickle was a word to describe her from what he had seen, but because of his attraction and feelings towards her, he knew that he had to try. She had a shell or a wall around her, and Jonathan knew he had already begun pulling at it, brick by brick. One day, she might open up to him. One day, she might feel the same. Maybe he could liberate her.

"Look," Emilia began, turning in her seat to directly face Jonathan. "I'm failing a course -it's stupid really, I should be doing better- and if I don't pull my grades up by next week, I'm going to have to drop the only course that gets me through the day... The only course with someone who helps get me through the day."

"M-me?"

She nodded, "I can't make up for what I did yesterday, but I am sorry. I'm just so scared to get attach- close to somebody. I guess what I'm saying is that..."

You bring something out in me that has been dormant for years.

"I was wondering if I could ask for your help, t-to bring my grades up so I can keep coming to this class... with you," she changed her conversation route last minute.

"Of course!" He kicked himself mentally for being so enthusiastic. "Yeah, I mean, I'd be happy to help."

"Can we start this afternoon?" All she wanted was to avoid going home. After the gong show with her father the night before, she was scared to go home. She'd not gotten rid of the images of the house, because she still intended to use them whether her father approved or not. She was waiting on developing them, however, because if he ever saw them, he would lose his mind. She shuddered at the thought of what he might do to her; kick her out? She didn't know, and she certainly didn't want to find out either.

Jonathan thought about it; it was a Friday which meant that his mother worked late. Will would likely go to the Wheeler's home to play with his friends, which meant that the house would be theirs, and theirs alone. The thought of being that alone with her scared him, but in a good way. Even though he'd been out in the woods and in his car with just her, it was the thought of being at his house and maybe even in his room that excited him and scared him. He liked Emilia, more than a friend, but he knew that showing such now would only lead to trouble. The friendship that they were slowly developing was healthy, moving nicely, and if he were to expose his feelings to her things could go quickly downhill.

"Of course." He nodded, wondering if the house was a total mess or not. When he had dropped her off the other day, the house that she lived in was quite nice, and quite a bit larger than his own. Her family was small, only two people, and he was surprised that they lived in such a nice place. His family had once been four, and the house was just big enough for all of them, crowded even. When Lonnie, his dad, left it became a kinder place, a quieter place, and truly felt like home. The size of his home mattered not, not when he had the family that he did. Still, he was worried about what Emilia would think of it. Little did he know, her house was not what he believed it to be. "My place? Yours? The Library?

"Yours," she replied sharply, bringing her lower lip between her teeth nervously. She'd had him drop her off one road down from her house, where the houses stood tall without leaky roofs and filthy windows. He didn't know where she actually lived. "There is one other thing..."

"Yeah?"

"My dad... He's a little overprotective." The word was an understatement, or a misuse. He didn't seem to care about her, ever, and yet he didn't want her to have a male tutor. It boggled her mind why he even cared. Perhaps he didn't want her to get knocked up like her mother did, and end up stuck with a kid she didn't want. She rolled her eyes at the thought. "He wants me home by six, I can try to push that. He also wants me to have a female tutor only."

"So why me?" He asked, confused why she would disobey her father's rules so blatantly.

"You notice me," she said it so matter-of-factly that both of their stomachs flipped.