Shutter [Jonathan Byers] Stranger Things I

XIX: Candid

can.did

adjective

1.

truthful and straightforward; frank.

2.

(of a photograph of a person) taken informally, especially without the subject's knowledge.

A dark silence followed Jonathan's re-entering of the room. Something hung between them that made everything tense, and Emilia's silence didn't seem to make anything better. Jonathan managed to shuffle slightly, and then all movement finally came back to him. And yet, he found himself unable to move any closer to her in fear that she would tell him to get away from her. The sun had long since disappeared, and with it the joy between Jonathan and Emilia.

No, he couldn't blame this on anything but himself.

"Emilia..." His voice cracked, "You weren't... Supposed to see those."

When he spoke the last word his voice was so quiet, Emilia didn't even hear him.

A dull throb filled his head, Jonathan had no idea what to do.

"Please say something, Emilia," his voice wavered.

She looked up at him at last, hand still holding the pictures; unreadable blue eyes pierced through him and Jonathan wasn't sure if he wanted to run away or drop to his knees and cry. As though her eyes were tracing him, outlining his body, she scanned over him over and over. And then her lips parted ever so slightly. Jonathan waited with brutal anticipation for what she was going to say, and feared that this was going to be the end of their friendship, and whatever else that went along with that.

"When... How?" She flickered her eyes back at the photos, and Jonathan felt he could breathe for just a second, until her eyes held him again. "Jonathan, how did you get these pictures?"

He dipped his head; he had to be candid about this. "It was after the accident... I knew you were at Hawkins General. Emilia, I wasn't thinking when I took those photos..."

Emilia looked back down at the picture of herself. Post-operation, she was lying upon a hospital bed with tubes and needles in her arms, tubes in her nose to keep her breathing properly. Ugly fluorescent lighting made her skin look jaundiced, the pale hospital gown she wore was unflattering. Around her head was a tangle of black hair, knotted and matted with dirt and blood. And yet, upon her unconscious face she had the most serene look; Jonathan had managed to capture the bliss of being unaware when everything around her fell apart.

"Jonathan," she looked up, he froze. "These are beautiful."

"What?"

"I mean," she furrowed her brow, "I look awful, and yet... I look so serene."

"You mean you're not mad at me... For- For taking the pictures?" He asked.

She looked up at him with a candidness in her eyes. "No, Jonathan, not at all."

Standing up a little too fast, Emilia wavered slightly. She regained her footing and took a deep breath. Crossing over to a still-nervous Jonathan, she stood just in front of him, so close that she was practically underneath him. He titled his head down and studied the expression upon her face. For the first time ever, he realized that the sadness was gone, and something inside of him burst. Warmth spread throughout his core and to his fingers as he realized that he had finally helped her reach this point. He didn't take all the credit, of course, but some.

"You were the one who left the flowers. The Heather," she realized.

He nodded.

"Why?" She asked, wondering why Jonathan was hardly saying anything, and for once she was the one who had the most to say. She had so many questions that she never knew needed answers until now. She'd never cared who brought the flowers before, she let it go from the hold of her mind so that it didn't disturb her. Now more questions were arising.

"I was the one who...."

She didn't blink as she put her hand upon his wrist gently, urging him to go on.

"I was the first person at the accident. I pulled you from the car before it, you know..."

She wrapped her arms around him and held him tighter than she ever had before. It didn't matter how many times they had kissed before, that embrace penetrated through Jonathan's entire body and made his heart stop; there was something stronger than infatuation behind that hug. Something grateful. Slowly, almost awkwardly, he brought his arms around her and held her back. His chin rested atop her head, her hair getting messed up as he moved so that he could plant her lips on her forehead. She leaned herself against him as though she was relying on him just to stand upright, and she didn't realize she was crying until she pulled back and saw the wet marks upon Jonathan's shirt.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled.

He smiled that crooked half smile. "Don't be."

"Can we go?"

"Where?"

"I want to see it," she looked up at him, and realized that he didn't understand her request. She was trying to avoid saying the words, but she knew now that she had to. For years she had been neglecting this part of her life, she hoped that she could have ignored it for the rest of her life. Only now was she understanding that she had to go back there in order to fully heal. She took a deep breath, and looking Jonathan in the eyes she said, "Where the accident happened. I want to go back there."

"Are you sure?" He asked, nervous.

"I've never been so sure about anything in my life," she released Jonathan and stood straight, "I need this."

He nodded, and reached for the keys for his car on the bedside table. Still stunned by the fact she hadn't just walked out on him for having images of her from her time i the hospital, Jonathan was almost at a loss for words. Emilia was full of surprises, and Jonathan knew that there would be more to come. His thoughts lingered on what his mother would say if she knew everything that had happened, and wondered if Emilia would throw a curve ball his way sometime soon. But thinking like that wasn't healthy, and he was just happy that she hadn't slapped him and ended whatever weird, three dimensional thing they had between them.

It was something he didn't think could be captured in a photo.

He didn't have time to explain to his mother what they were doing, and he only caught a slightly uncomfortable glance from her as they disappeared out the front door. Part of him felt guilty, but he knew that his mother was simply paranoid, a little worried about him. The car ride was silent, but it was only a few minutes before they turned onto the road where it all happened. Emilia was leaned forward in her seat, one hand clutching the handle of the car door, the other on the dash. Her nails were digging into the leather, the seatbelt was hard against her chest, locking her in place. They neared the scene, or where it had been two years prior, and Jonathan stopped the car.

"It looks so different," she whispered, although it was more directed at herself, and so Jonathan didn't reply. A shudder ran through her, chilling her entire body as she began to cry. Not holding back, Emilia felt the build up of years of grief, guilt, and remorse flow out of her. Heavy sobs filled the vehicle and Jonathan simply waited, nonjudgmental. Fat tears dropped down from her eyes to her lap, leaving large wet marks upon her blue jeans. After a few minutes, it was all out; Emilia wiped her red eyes and gulped for air that didn't seem to want inside of her lungs. She took one more shuddery breath and turned to look at Jonathan with a sheepish smile on her lips.

He returned the smile and watched as Emilia unclipped her seat belt.

She crawled over the gear shift and awkwardly placed herself upon his lap.

Jonathan's eyes were wide with surprise, his hands hovering at her hips.

She planted her lips on his, hands upon either side of his face.

Jonathan felt everything in his body light up.

Uh, questions... I don't really have one today. Uhm, what's your hobby?