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Jonathan had been distant for years, Joyce knew that. He was a very quiet boy, after all. Plus, he could handle himself. Will and El Jane were so young, only sixteen and having their world literally collapse beneath their feet. They needed their mother at all times. Jonathan knew he could come to her if he needed help, but he didn’t, so he must’ve been fine.
The day after it all ended, Joyce woke up in a cold sweat. Everyone had been interrogated for hours the night prior, after the world that had plagued her life blew up, taking her only daughter with it. None of them would forget the wails coming from Mike, the pain on Steve’s face, Hopper’s roars of terror.
Looking at the body next to her, she placed a soft hand on Hopper’s sleeping face, kissing his forehead before sitting up on their bed. The silence was enough to drive a man mad, leaving her alone with her thoughts of the past 24 hours.
The little girl she had met in 1983, the girl who helped her find her boy, was gone after only four years of getting to be a kid. The walls were decorated with photos taken by Jonathan of soft, familial moments.
Will teaching Jane how to paint.
Jane, Max, Erica, Robin and Nancy doing their makeup, not to impress anyone, but just to have fun.
Will, Lucas and Mike desperately trying to console a grieving Dustin, convincing him to watch Return Of The Jedi with them.
Nancy, Robin and Steve sitting at Eddie’s grave, laughing and talking as if he was still there.
Jane, Will, Joyce and Hopper watching Purple Rain.
Robin and Vickie laughing over some shitty romantic thing that Murray put together.
Jane and Hopper eating Eggos and watching Miami Vice.
It all made sense that Jonathan wasn’t in any photo, he was taking them, but it still felt odd to Joyce. He was her son, yet she had next to no pictures of him, and she hadn’t even noticed. Had Jonathan noticed? If he had, did he hold it against her? Or did he understand, given that nobody else knew how to use a camera with the precision that he did?
Slowly standing, Joyce grabbed one of her flannels from a chair, throwing it over her shoulders. Stepping into the hallway as the November breeze blew through the rickety wooden walls of the cabin. As she walked, soft hiccups came from the living room.
“Will?” She said softly, moving a bit closer. She knew Will would be distraught, but it wasn’t normal for him to be so…conservative with his tears. “Honey, are you okay?”
As she continued to walk, the floorboards creaked under her feet. The living room came into view, but she froze for a moment.
It wasn’t Will.
Jonathan sat on the couch, knees curled tightly to his chest, near silent sobs seeping out as if he was a child again. He trembled, but whether it was from the cold or his tears was unclear. Joyce shook herself out of her stupor, approaching her eldest as quietly as she could. Sitting down, she placed a hand on his arm.
“Jonathan?” She whispered, her soft voice reminiscent of a daycare teacher speaking to a scared little kid. “Honey, it’s me. What’s going on?”
The young man looked up, eyes wide as he realized whom he was crying in front of. Jonathan Byers wasn’t supposed to show pain. Jonathan Byers wasn’t supposed to cry. Jonathan Byers has been an adult since he was ten years old.
“M-Mom I-...” He choked, wiping his tears away, “Nothing. I’m fine.” Joyce knew when her children were lying, at least most of the time, and this was the biggest lie she had ever heard.
“Jonathan, talk to me please.” She grabbed his hand again, massaging it softly with her thumbs. As she took in the scene in front of her, Joyce saw a pile of photos in her son's other hand. Her eyes softened with understanding, taking in the moments of joy that were solidified within Jonathan’s art. Jane’s beautiful brown eyes, Will’s big kind smile.
“I could’ve stopped it.” He muttered, “I told them to not touch her, I was gonna run to her!” Jonathan’s face got redder as his tears began flowing again. “If I was stronger, I could’ve gotten them off of me and I could’ve stopped her!”
Memories of 1983 flashed within Joyce’s mind.
“We have to deal with the funeral.”
“That’s not his body, because he’s in the lights, right?!”
“You’re…You’re sorry? That is not good enough, Jonathan!”
“I thought I could save Will… I still do.”
Joyce cupped her son's face, wiping his tears with her thumbs.
“You still think you’re all alone in this world.” She whispered, pulling him into her chest. “You’re not.” Jonathan tried to keep his voice steady, tried to be strong.
“That’s not true.” He murmured, “I’m not a kid, so everyone treats me like I have everything figured out. I almost died, and nobody came to check on me. Do you know how painful it was seeing Will run past me straight to Max?”
Joyce’s eyes widened, not sure what to make of the situation. Jonathan never had outbursts like this.
“You volunteered me to go on the crawl with Steve, which would’ve been fine, but you only did it because you thought it was too dangerous for Will!” His tears came faster and faster, “A-After Starcourt, everybody was checking on Steve and Robin and Jane but I was in so much pain, mom! M-My back was broken!”
It was true. Doctors from Hawkins General had checked on Jonathan after everything, and had discovered severe spinal fractures, a grade 3 concussion, and bad bruising.
It was true. Joyce did run straight to Will, then to El. Never to Jonathan, who drove his family home that day despite the agony he was in.
Jonathan collapsed fully into his mothers embrace, letting out loud, raw sobs.
“I miss my little sister…”
That set of a chain of emotions from Joyce. Happiness, that Jonathan considered Jane his sister. Sadness, because she was gone. Fear, because her son, her strong Jonathan, was shattering in her lap.
“Jonathan, I’m so sorry…” She said, the words muffled in the boy's hair. “I’ve been a horrible mother. You’ve always been so strong, and I wasn’t paying enough attention to be able to tell what was happening in your head.”
These apologies weren’t just apologies. They were pleas for forgiveness. Attempts to make up for the times she hadn’t supported him. Begging for him to understand that she loved him more than the sun in the sky
“Jonathan, what is wrong with you?”
“Jonathan, you…You can work it, right?”
“Jonathan, you have to make sure he’s up!”
Jonathan’s breathing slowed, his tears soaking into Joyce’s worn out brown flannel. His grip was like solid rock as he held onto a crumpled piece of lined paper, tears from heavy erasing littering it. Joyce eyed it, curious but worried at the same time. She slowly took it as Jonathan looked away, seemingly nervous for Joyce to read it.
Dear Mom,
It really isn’t fair, is it? Will was a kid, Jane was a kid, Mike was a kid, Dustin was a kid, Lucas was a kid, Max was a kid.
I was a kid.
All of this happened because I wasn’t home when I should’ve been.
I know why you’re protective over Will, and I know why you were protective over Jane.
I think I craved that attention sometimes. Most times.
I never told you that I went to Lonnie’s that day. He pushed me against the wall and told me I “got stronger”.
I’ve always been the strong one.
I can’t do that anymore.
I’m sorry, but I can’t live after losing a sibling again.
I love you mom. I always have and I always will.
Love,
Jonathan L. Byers
Joyce’s eyes were wide and wet, hands trembling.
“Jonathan, baby, please.” She begged, “Please never do it. I know it feels impossible but you can’t let yourself resort to that.” The thought of losing a child, albeit Will came back, for the third time was almost unbearable.
Looking at her son, she could only see the little boy who wore earmuffs in the summer because it was ‘too loud’. The boy who happily ran to her when he took his first picture, which was later torn to unrecognizable shreds by a drunk Lonnie. The boy who did the dishes without complaints, even though he hated the feeling of the water dripping down his wrists.
He looked at her, opening his mouth ever so slightly.
“I’m sorry, mom…” He whispered, feeling the scar across his palm with a calloused thumb.
“No, you have nothing to be sorry for.” She reassured him, “I love you, Jonathan. I will always love you.”
He looked up once more, sniffling.
"I love you too mom.”