Summary: Jonathan has his first day at school and meets a rather unusual student.
Word Count: 2.4k
A/N: Ugh, I know it's been so long since I last updated my fics. It's just been... Hard lately. But I'm trying, I swear!!!
School sucks. That's a universal truth. Whether it's in Hawkins or Lenora Hill, school will always suck. The difference, though, is that Lenora has one key differentiator: the boy next door who kindly offered to show Jonathan, Will, and Jane around. That is really the only thing that got Jonathan out of bed. Those amber eyes are the only reason why Jonathan opened his own brown eyes this morning and wasted the little energy he has in the morning to get out of bed.
The 17-year-old changed into some of the few clean clothes he has—light jeans, his old white Converse, a blue T-shirt, and a dark gray, short-sleeved shirt over it. A quick combing of his light brown hair, and a splash of cold water to wake up properly—perfect! Looking like a thousand bucks! Okay, maybe, 99 bucks; those bags under his eyes haven't vanished completely. Well, you can't spell Jonathan Byers without "bags under his eyes." It's part of his package, really. Love it or hate it.
"Hm, maybe I should put on some cologne, too..." Jonathan muses under his breath. Oh, well, why not? He still has some of that cologne Nancy gave him on their first anniversary—she forgot it was their anniversary, actually, and just stole one from Ted, but still. He sprays the cool liquid against his neck and pulse points, wincing at the strong smell that hits his nostrils. Now he looks like a thousand bucks.
Fine, 99.99 bucks.
Jonathan meets the rest of his family downstairs. Joyce runs from one side of the house to the other, scurrying through some of the boxes they still have around, searching for her belongings to start her new job—phone saleswoman. Hey, it's an honest job! And one that pays a handsome extra depending on how many encyclopedias Joyce sold. A Steve Harrington level of handsomeness.
She gives her three kids quick kisses on the cheeks before retreating to her home office area in the foyer, wishing them a good first day of school. Will ate his pancakes as if the world was about to end. But Jane, poor girl, just gave small bites on her waffle before pushing the plate away and taking a microscopic sip of her orange juice and heading to her room to pick up her backpack. Jonathan watched his sister disappear upstairs with a small sigh, wishing to go after her. But knew it was best to give Jane some space before intervening. Nevertheless, Jonathan will keep a close eye on Jane, and he'll be there for her when she needs him, like a good big brother.
The teenager picks up a toast with butter and practically swallows it whole before grabbing his old, worn backpack and gesturing for Will to follow him. "Jane! Time for school!" He calls, picking up his car keys. The girl descends the steps like a man on death row; quiet, her head hung low. Jonathan offers her a small smile before guiding his younger siblings to the garage, where his old Galaxie awaits.
It's showtime!
***
"Fucking hell..."
"Will, language!" Despite the scolding, Jonathan shares Will's reaction. Yep, fucking hell! Compared to Lenora High, Hawkins High looks like a pigpen from the Victorian age. The school is massive, with a big, tree-filled courtyard and large windows showing some of the bright halls inside. The students here also seem more... warm than Jonathan's previous (and accursed) Hawkins peers. Still, he'll keep his guard up. Better be safe than sorry.
Jonathan parks his car in the school's large parking lot, next to the bicycle parking area, and turns off the engine. Opening the door, his left foot touches the ground first, followed by his right one. Jonathan Byers made landfall at his new school. No turning back now. And in the distance, by the entrance, he sees him; that black hair and those amber eyes scanning the crowd in eagerness and anticipation. Kenji is waiting for him. Kenji is waiting for him! Exactly like he promised! Dear God, it's unfair how nice he looks under the bright, morning sun. Criminal, even. Kenji's existence should be a damn felony! "Control your gay thoughts, Byers!" Jonathan scolds himself, shaking his head before urging his siblings to follow him towards the entrance, entering Kenji's line of sight. And, damn, how big his smile grows when he spots Jonathan.
"Hey!" He waves at the three siblings, his white teeth gleaming under the sun. "Welcome to Lenora High!"
How can one be this excited at school?! There's a first time for everything, it seems. Jonathan huffs, a ghost of a smile forming on his lips. "Morning, Kenji," He greets the boy, stopping in front of him and giving Kenji a quick—and not as discreet as he thought—once-over. Kenji's dressed in a light, long-sleeved yellow shirt, jeans, and green sneakers. He has what seems to be a baseball cap attached to his jeans. A fan of the sport, perhaps? A player, even? He has the physique of someone sporty. And Jonathan shouldn't be checking him out. Bad Jonathan. Bad Jonathan!
"Thanks," The oldest of the siblings replies, feeling his cheeks getting warm. Jonathan shuffles awkwardly and shyly, tucking his hands in his jeans pockets. "Thanks for... Showing us around, Kenj— Kenji! That's... Really nice of you."
The nickname—Kenj—escaped him faster than Jonathan could correct himself. Jonathan mentally cursed himself for being so pathetic. He was never good at first meetings and talking in general.
"Ah, no worries! Always happy to help." Kenji, thank God, seemed not to notice the slip-up, and flashed the Byers (+ Jane) a friendly smile. "So, which classes do you guys have first? And tell me your locker numbers."
"Right..." Jonathan retrieved a crumpled piece of paper from his backpack and handed it to Kenji. He never took good care of school papers. His is a stark contrast to Will and Jane's.
The Japanese boy grimaced as his amber eyes scanned their schedules. "First class is Math with Mrs. Marker."
"Bad teacher?" Will asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Demonic, actually." Kenji smiled apologetically at the kids before eyeing Jonathan's schedule. His facial expression softened almost immediately. That did not escape Jonathan. "Hey, we share all classes!"
God exists.
"And our lockers aren't very far."
God is making His presence very known.
"We'll be seeing each other a lot, then, Jonathan."
Perhaps Jonathan should go to church and thank God in person.
"Great!" Wait, that sounded too happy. Jonathan immediately schooled his expression. "I-I mean... Cool. It'll be nice to have... A familiar face around." Smooth, Byers.
Kenji chuckled softly, returning Jonathan's crumpled schedule and gesturing for him and his siblings to follow him. "Come on. I'll show you guys to your locker. We have some time to kill before the bell rings. Yours is first, Will. 1138." Like THX. Neat.
***
Lenora High is... Surprisingly neater than Hawkins High. The lockers are in much better condition; the halls are well-illuminated, with no flickering lights. The walls, decently painted, are decorated with murals, trophies, and pictures of graduates. Lenora Hill's graduation gowns are, thank God, dark blue. Jonathan would rather die than wear the hideous orange ones from Hawkins High. Rumor has it that former Hawkins High principal Duffer got drunk when he ordered the school gowns, and refused to fix his mistake because he was too proud of himself. What a jerk. Another rumor was that he was so incompetent that his wife, the former Biology teacher, had to run the school behind the curtains for him. Yet another case of stupid people in positions of power.
This country's going to lose the next war, for sure. Or maybe cause the next war. Or maybe cause the next war and lose it.
Kenji walked them around the large school, showing them the gymnasium area, classrooms, offices, library, and lockers. Jonathan's was last. His locker was just a row away from Kenji's. He could still see the Japanese boy from his locker. Yes, he already tested it.
"First class is History. Room 5-B. It's just down the hall," He informed Jonathan, pointing in the classroom's direction. "I lent someone my notes, and they still haven't returned them. So I'm going to take them back."
"You sound like a gangster." The corner of Jonathan's lips twitched upwards at Kenji's words.
Kenji made a "meh" noise and shrugged. "I may or may not have an uncle or two in the yakuza."
"... What?" Jonathan's eyebrows disappeared in his hairline from how much they shot up. "Wait, for real?"
"Hm-hn," The boy nodded. "They both have their little left fingers amputated. They said it was an 'accident at the harbor.' But everyone knows it's the yakuza's yubitsume ritual of cutting their members' fingers. Plus, there's that one time a neighbor my uncle didn't like died under 'mysterious circumstances.'" He made air quotes, face stone serious.
Jonathan's jaw muscles loosened, and his lower jaw dropped with each of Kenji's words. The fact that the boy was saying all that with a stone-cold expression and a casual shrug—
Kenji snorted. "I'm just messing with you!" He grinned, patting Jonathan's shoulder—God, that touch! "My uncles wouldn't hurt a fly. One's a flower grower in Okinawa and the other's a fisherman in Kobe."
"O-oh, right. Heh." Jonathan chuckled. Of course this guy's uncles are two softies. Must be in their DNA.
"Anyway. I'll go there to get my notes back. Meet you in class. Save a seat for me, yeah?"
"Save..." Jonathan's breath hitched. Save a seat for Kenji? Kenji wants to sit next to him? Oh, dear Lord! "Y-yeah, sure! I'll save you a seat! By the... Windows? That okay? I like sitting by the windows."
The other boy nodded, a friendly smile on his face. "I do too!" Okay, Universe! They're compatible! Point taken! "I'll be right back!"
Kenji sent Jonathan a wave before turning on his heel and walking down the hallway. He disappeared amidst the crowd of students. Jonathan kept his eyes on the tall boy the entire time, until Kenji was gone. And even then, he kept looking, hoping the boy would return soon. God, he wasn't this much of a simp since Na—
"Yo, bro!" An excited voice boomed from behind Jonathan, startling him. He hated loud noises—bar his music. And loud people. And loud and strange people. Behind him stood perhaps the weirdest specimen of the human race Jonathan has ever encountered; a guy with long, black hair that reached his waist, a hat so colorful it looked like it was vomited by a rainbow, long, purple socks, dirty shoes, and four different sets of clothes—long-sleeved T-shirt, a T-shirt over it, an open-button, short-sleeved shirt, and pants—all in different colors. None matching. Now, Jonathan's no Guccio Gucci; his clothes usually vary from black to a "light shade of black", but this guy is, in every sense of the word, a fashion disaster. He doesn't seem to care, however, judging by his big, goofy grin. "You're new here, right? I've never seen you around. Where you from? No wait, don't tell me! Lemme guess! Hmmm... England!"
"Uhhhh..." Jonathan's not sure if he is even meant to partake in this conversation.
"And I bet your name is... Charlie! You look like a Charlie!" Yeah, apparently he's just a spectator in the dialogue—or, monologue. "I'm Argyle, by the way!" He offered Jonathan a hand. A big and sweaty hand, which, of course, Jonathan took.
"... Jonathan." He replied curtly, guard up as always when meeting someone new and abrasive.
"Jonathan!" The guy, Argyle, didn't seem to catch on to Jonathan's lack of enthusiasm, and pulled him into a big, tight hug, much to Jonathan's confusion, shock, and slight dismay. "Welcome to our seventh circle of Hell, Jonathan-who-looks-like-a-Charlie! Ey, do you know your way around? I can show ya if ya want!"
"Ah, no, no, no!" Jonathan was quick to raise his hands in front of his body, waving them and shaking his head. "It's alright. Someone already showed me around. Kenji."
"Ohhhhhhhhh!" Argyle's eyes sparkled. It would seem he knows who Kenji is. "Yeah, the one-third Asian! He's a nice guy!"
Jonathan raised an eyebrow. One-third Asian? What is that even supposed to mean? Kenji seemed three-thirds Asian to him. And what's with the fractions, anyway?
"Oh, speakin' of him! There 'e is!" Argyle pointed down the hall, where Kenji returned with a notebook in his hands. His amber eyes locked onto Jonathan's brown ones immediately, and he smiled. But that smile faltered once he saw Argyle, and Kenji made a face of, "Oh no." "Hey, One-third!"
Kenji huffed under his breath. "Argyle."
Jonathan watched the interaction with curiosity and confusion, his right eyebrow raising. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Argyle's expression lit up even more, and Kenji sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Oh, you know, Jonny boy..." Jonathan frowned. Jonny boy? "Our boy Kenji here is one-third special, one-third okay, and one-third Asian," Argyle smirked like he was about to deliver the best pun the world has ever seen. "He's a special okaysian!"
Argyle wheezed and laughed like he just heard the funniest joke in existence. Meanwhile, Jonathan and Kenji exchanged deadpanned looks.
"Still as funny as the first three thousand, eight hundred and sixty-seven times you told this joke, Argyle," Kenji rolled his eyes while the other boy coughed and cleared his throat like an old man who choked on his own spit. Argyle smirked at the two, then ruffled Jonathan's hair—God, Jonathan wants to shove that big hand of his somewhere the sun doesn't shine.
"Ey, man, I like you!" Argyle smirked at Jonathan, finding his pout funny. "We should hang out more often. Oh, oh, I know! You're in woodworking class too, right?"
"I—" There was no need for a reply from Jonathan.
"We should share a workbench! I'll save ya some! 'right, see ya, brochacho! Nice to meet ya!"
"Wha—" And just like he appeared, Argyle vanished into the crowd. Kenji followed his movements, shaking his head in mild disapproval.
"He's going to the wrong classroom," The Japanese boy clicked his tongue. "Again."
Jonathan turned to the taller boy, cocking his head to the side. "Again?" He echoed. "Does that happen a lot?"
"More frequently than it should." He shrugged. "Way, way more frequently."
Argyle entered the sophomore year's Geography classroom, only to be immediately banished by the teacher, and then turning around a corner, still going in the other direction.
"What's that dude's deal?" Jonathan inquired, following after Kenji into class. "He's drugged or something?"
A huff of amusement escaped Kenji's lips. "You can say he put the high in high school."
Jonathan blinked once. Twice. Thrice. Too naive to understand Kenji's words. "What...?"
Couldn't find him? He's right here! Next to the single-season druggie who served no other purpose than being the "killable Steve", and who is, by the way, much bigger than him in the poster.
Summary: Jonathan and Oliver share custody of, as Oliver puts it, "their child."
Word Count: 2.3k
Jonathan's always been a morning person. He'd wake up between 06:00 and 06:30am without even needing an alarm. He has his own biological clock. Today, precisely at 06:15, Jonathan Byers opened his brown eyes, and the sight that met him made his cheeks blush a soft pink—the soft, slightly freckled, and covered in loose strands of ginger hair face of his still-sound-asleep friend Oliver. He's too close. So close, in fact, that the tip of their noses is almost touching, and Jonathan can feel Oliver's soft breath tickling his skin. It makes him shiver—in a confusing but good way—and Jonathan carefully scoots away as fast as he can, climbing out of bed and making his way to the bathroom, picking out new clothes along the way. The boy rushes to the tiny bathroom of the Byers residence and shuts the door, eyeing his tired, still-sleepy reflection in the mirror, feeling his heart thumping in his chest.
"What the hell's wrong with me..." He mumbles under his breath, splashing cold water in his face and shaking loose strands of hair off his forehead. "Ollie's a friend... A friend. A boy. A boy friend—" NOPE! Wrong line of thought, Byers! Male friend, he meant! Male friend. Not a boyfriend. No. A friend who happens to be a boy! Yeah, that's it. No boyfriend.
Jonathan huffs a little louder than intended and quickly goes to do his business in the bathroom, emerging from it some seven minutes later, with his teeth brushed, changed, and sprayed with a nice deodorant Joyce got from Melvald's. He opens the bathroom door, peeking outside—no one seems to be awake other than him—and heads to the kitchen, his socked feet thudding softly against the hardwood floor.
Besides his room, the kitchen is Jonathan's second-favorite room in the house. He just loves cooking, making coffee, baking cookies for Will and his friends, and arranging the drawers—teaching Joyce that knives, forks, and spoons are in the first drawer. Other kitchen utensils are in the second drawer; it is still an in-development project. Jonathan begins making breakfast, flipping some pancakes for Will, eggs for Joyce, setting some cereal on the table, making coffee, and squeezing some oranges for fresh orange juice. "Smells divine."
"ACK!" The boy practically jumps like a frightened cat when Oliver's voice suddenly fills the kitchen, and Jonathan swiftly turns around with his heart practically at his throat.
"Sorry, mate," Oliver smiles apologetically, leaning against the fridge and still clad in his pajamas. "Didn't mean to startle you."
Jonathan huffs, trying to calm his racing heart before turning his attention back to the stove and avoiding burning Joyce's scrambled eggs. "You're silent like a damn cat, Ollie," He playfully glares at his boyfriend, pointing the spatula at him. "I'm gonna make you wear a bell."
"Meow!" Oliver mimics the noise and winks at Jonathan—inadvertently almost giving Jonathan a heart attack—before walking in to help his friend with the food and set up the table.
Soon, Joyce joins the teens in the kitchen, dressed for work and running as fast as the damn Roadrunner—but misplacing things and forgetting where they are like the dumbass Coyote. Jonathan insists she sit down to eat, but Joyce merely gobbles up the food and takes a big gulp from her coffee mug before going back to search for her accursed purse, which seems to be nowhere in sight.
Jonathan wonders how long it will take for Joyce to realize her purse is strapped to her shoulder. It would seem quitting smoking made her more anxious and fidgety—but that's quitting for you; the accursed cravings will do anything for you to feed them again, but Joyce is resisting the urge like the brave trooper she is! For her sons. "You're not gonna tell 'er?" Oliver mutters to his friend, raising an eyebrow. Jonathan shrugs and makes a "meh" noise as he washes the dishes.
"She'll notice it," He says. "Eventually."
Oliver chuckles at his friend's indifference before peeking inside the hallway at hearing footsteps. The sleeping beauty—Will—rubs his little tired eyes as he joins the rest of the group, grabbing a bowl of cereal poured to him earlier by Jonathan before making his way to the living room. "Mornin'..." He mumbles, disregarding Jonathan as his older brother tells him not to eat in the living room. "I'm gonna watch the news!" The 12-year-old pouts and whines at his older brother before slumping down on the couch and turning on the device.
"On today's news, Hawkins Middle and High Schools are closed for fire department inspection—"
"Aaaand good night," Will turns off the TV and immediately turns to go back into his room, still clutching the cereal bowl.
"Ey, wait a second!" Jonathan calls his brother with an annoyed frown. "It's your day to take out the trash, Will—!"
"I'll do it later!" The boy's whiny, petulant voice echoes in the hallway before Will closes his bedroom door, much to Jonathan's annoyance.
"Tsk," The older boy clicks his tongue. "I'm gonna ground him for a week if he forgets to take out the trash again— Mom, it's on your shoulder!" Jonathan snaps at his mother as Joyce continues searching for her already-in-her-possession purse.
"Oh! Right," Joyce slaps her own forehead before rushing to grab her car keys from the kitchen counter, giving Jonathan and Oliver goodbye kisses and rushing to give one to Will as well before leaving for work.
Once Joyce leaves the house, the British boy turns to face his friend. "Quite the lively home you have." He smirks, taking a sip from his glass of juice. "I'm jealous."
Jonathan scoffs and rolls his eyes. "Jealous? Of this?!" He gestures to their surroundings—the messy kitchen and living room, where Will and Joyce were just seconds ago. There's no way someone in this world is jealous of the Byers.
"Yeah." Apparently, there is. "It's nice, you know? To have a lively home. Feels cozy. Mine is so... Quiet." Oliver's voice dropped to a low whisper. His green eyes fell slightly before the boy immediately shrugged the sadness away and resumed his friendly, charming, and funny personality—though it didn't escape Jonathan's sharp senses. "Though I reckon my opinion is biased because I like you and your family, mate." He chuckles softly, his words causing Jonathan to choke in his own spit and avert his gaze as his cheeks flush pink.
He clears his throat after a while. "A-anyway, since school's cancelled for today, how about we go... Out...?" Wait, that sounded like he's asking Oliver out on a date. Rephrase it! "I mean... Do something, like... A-a car ride!"
"A car ride?" Oliver perks up at Jonathan's suggestion and nods with a smile. "Yeah, a car ride sounds fun! Lemme get changed. Be back in five!" Jonathan nods as he watches Oliver rush back into his room to change, then emerges precisely five minutes later, dressed in a yellow jumper, jeans, and red Adidas sneakers. He looks nice. Really nice. Jonathan shakes his head again, dispersing the thoughts, before standing up from the table. He grabs his old Converse shoes by the front door, quickly laces them, and grabs his car keys.
The Galaxie 500 rests in front of the house, shadowed by a nearby large tree, not that it would make a difference at this point to try to protect the car from the sun. The Galaxie looks like the Japanese superbattleship Yamato after being attacked relentlessly by more than 100 US aircraft; i.e., beaten as hell. But unlike the Yamato, which sank and let down the Imperial Japanese Navy during the last battles of the war, the Galaxie never let Jonathan down. It never failed him. A miracle, really, considering how old this car is.
Jonathan unlocks the car and steps inside, unlocking the passenger door for Oliver to get in, and turns on the engine. The old Ford roars to life like an old lion, and Jonathan grabs one of his many tapes from the glove compartment and puts it in the radio. David Bowie's voice takes over the interior of the car as Jonathan pulls out of the front lawn. Oliver bobs his head and drums his thighs to the song's tune—Hunky Dory.
"You have nice taste, y'know?" Oliver speaks up after a few moments of comfortable silence.
"You're just saying that because Bowie's English."
"Guilty as charged, Your Honor," Oliver smirks and raises his hand in a playful gesture of surrender. "But still, you have good taste. I like your tapes. Wonder when you're making one for me..."
"Make one..." Jonathan felt his cheeks growing warm, and his chest felt funny—tight, but warm, too. No one's ever asked him to make a tape, bar Will. Yeah, he'll make Ollie a tape. A good one. With some Clash, Beatles, Bon Jovi—he looks like he'd like it—maybe some Madonna, too. The Cure and some Toto. Oh, and Queen! Definitely add Queen.
Jonathan's mind raced with thoughts and ideas, all of them Oliver Bancroft-related, as he drove through the empty streets of Hawkins, drumming against the wheel to the song's tune, until...
"JONATHAN, STOP THE BLOODY CAR!" Until Oliver decided to give him a damn heart attack, startling Jonathan. He slammed his foot on the brakes, causing the tires to screech like Nancy Wheeler when she got a B- in Math—a painful noise.
He didn't even have time to turn at Oliver and curse at the boy as the ginger leaped out of the car, leaving the door ajar. "What the hell...?" He mumbles under his breath, parking the car on the side of the road before following after his friend as Oliver rushes to the tree line by the road and tucks his head between some bushes. "The hell's he doing?"
Jonathan approaches Oliver, the sound of dry leaves crushed under his shoes filling the air.
"Ollie...?" The ginger stands up as Jonathan stops right behind him and turns around, his hands cupped in front of his body, holding a small, frightened-looking bunny. Jonathan's eyes widen at the animal his friend is holding, then soften with worry.
"Must have gotten lost from the mother..." Oliver speaks, his voice hushed to avoid frightening the little creature. The bunny's ears flicked at the sound of the teenager's voice. It fussed a little in Oliver's hands as the boy shushed it gently. "Shhhh, shhh, calm down, you. It's alright. We mean you no harm." It would be criminal to have such a soft voice and charming, posh accent and be a threat—Jonathan's opinion on Oliver's British lilt. "We should take it to a vet. See if it's hurt."
Oliver's suggestion snapped Jonathan out of his thoughts, and he nodded, his head bobbing up and down quickly. "Yeah, yeah. Good idea. I know a vet close by. She takes good care of Chester."
Oliver nodded. "Lead the way, then."
Dr. Martinez is, in the Byers' opinion, the best veterinarian in all of Roane County. She's a miracle-maker, honestly, and is the only person they trust Chester with. Plus, she doesn't charge a fortune for the animals' healthcare. Dr. Martinez, 1; the United States' healthcare system, a big and fat 0.
Jonathan stands in a corner with Oliver, watching as the woman carefully examines the bunny. Poor little thing must be frightened from being around all these strange creatures. Jonathan can see that little pink nose sniffing the air; it must be trying to find its mother's scent.
"Is everything okay with it?" He asks with a soft tone.
Dr. Martinez finishes examining the bunny before gently placing it in a small cage. "Everything's fine," She says, turning to the boys with a soft smile. "Poor thing is just scared, but thankfully, no broken limbs or fractures."
Jonathan's shoulders relax at the vet's reassurance, and he lets out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. "That's a relief." He says, his voice low. "We should look after it. At least until it's grown into an adult." He turns to Oliver, whose green eyes are already sparkling with joy at the idea of taking care of a bunny.
"We should give it a name. Oh, I know! Diana!" He grins like a child on Christmas morning. "In honour of the greatest future Queen the UK will have!"
An amused snort escapes Jonathan. "Seriously?" He rolls his eyes fondly.
The vet chuckles softly at the boys' antics, giving Oliver the cage. "It's a wonderful name, dear," She smiles. "But I don't think it's a good name for your bunny."
Oliver's grin wavers, replaced by a confused stare. "Why not?"
"Well, for starters..." Dr. Martinez smirks. "It's a boy."
"... Ah," Oliver chuckles sheepishly, caressing the bunny's soft fur through the bars. "Well, that makes sense. Any suggestions, then?"
Jonathan looks at Oliver's curious face, then at the bunny huddled in a corner of the cage. "Well..." He starts. "He kinda looks like... Thumper."
"Thumper?" Oliver furrows his brow. "Like... The rabbit from Bambi?" He looks at Jonathan, then at the bunny, then back at Jonathan again. His friend is technically correct. The bunny does look like Thumper. Tiny and cute. "I suppose we have a name, then. Thumper."
Jonathan nods at his friend, a soft smile playing on his lips as he crouches to peer at the tiny bunny inside the cage. "Yeah. Thumper it is."
Oliver nods with a happy smile, looking at Jonathan and the bunny. How cute; they have the same big, adorable eyes. "You know..." He begins, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "We'll need to share custody of our child now, Jon."
"O-Oliver!" And there goes Jonathan's face, turning all red again. And that funny feeling on his chest returns, increased tenfold now. Why does Oliver have to say it like that?! And in Dr. Martinez's presence, on top of that?!
Damn Brit ginger and his superpower of making Jonathan feel all flustered and fuzzy on the inside.
Would you be interested in doing a Justice for El Hopper massive analysis post? Because God.. this series and its ending treated her awfully.
I don't feel like it, tbh. Talking about ST just feels exhausting to me, and I don't see a point in, as we say here in my country, "kicking the dead dog".
ST sucks, El deserved better, nancy can't treat a person right unless it's interesting to her, Steve's a pathetic simp, Robin likes to humiliate Steve, billy's a racist pos, eddie's a drug dealer and an asshole, Mike has the emotional range of a tea spoon, hopper wants to die, Joyce is a bad mum, Vecna is just there to "farm aura", duffers can't write for shit, Jonathan is just there to simp and have petty arguments with Steve, Karen is a cheater, Dustin is now eddie 2.0, Vickie was just there to remind the audience Robin is a lesbian and then she vanished. We all heard those things in the past six months.
I'd rather just focus on Jonathan and Stonathan from now on.
I dont like Nancy at all, but even I have to admit that she deserved a better ending and story than St5 gave her.
It's called reasonable criticism, disliking a character but still wishing they were treated differently. Rare in the world of 2026, where you either worship a character blindly or despises them.
I don't like nancy at all, and yet I still made a post back in the dark ages (the era of S5) about how she was treated:
(this post was before vol. 2 btw)
It goes to show how much duffers can't write female characters and good relationships.
