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Jonathan was sat by the shore of Sattler’s quarry, a few feet from the water's vast edge. A joint rested between his middle and index fingers. A small pile of smooth stones sat beside him, neglected. Long, slender fingers drifted toward them. He took a hit from his joint and picked one up. For the better part of an hour, he had been skipping them across the water. Some stones would skip across the quarry effortlessly, while others would sink with a 'plop' the second they touched the cool liquid. He cast the stone in his hand across the reflective surface. Plop. Damnit, a sinker. It had been a long day, and Jonathan had gone to the quarry to relax. Things had been rough at home. Tension was thick and heavy in the cabin - and Jonathan knew he had been the cause of it. It was suffocating at times. His attached bedroom - a small extension off of the main building to accommodate the boys - had been the only place it seemed he could go that allowed him some relief. That relief was stolen from him that morning. His parents had torn apart his room and removed the locks on his door. His unlocked window was bolted down with heavy screws. They were concerned about him; they had made no effort to hide it. Jonathan was distant and unusually aggressive, with thick, tall, defensive walls surrounding him at all times. Hopper and Joyce had known that something was up. Hopper had known that he was taking something and hiding something else and had no doubt told Joyce about it. El had seemed guilty about something. Will was silent but had spared Jonathan a concerned glance here and there when they passed in the halls or sat at the dinner table across from one another. That small interaction was becoming a rarer and rarer occurrence as both boys pulled away from one another. Every conversation turned into an interrogation. Every attempt to approach Jonathan about whatever was wrong was met with yelling, thicker walls, and a slammed door. He always failed to notice the brew of emotions that showed on their features. How Joyce would stand outside of his door and plead to him to open up and talk to her. No one could understand why he just... couldn't. No one knew just what was at stake. Jonathan had dreaded going home. He knew it would be more of the same. More attempts to get him to open up, another interrogation about where he was, another—
SPLASH!
Jonathan was drawn out of his thoughts as he jumped, knocking over the pile of rocks with his foot as he scrambled up the shore in alarm. He wasn’t sure where nor what the splash had come from. No fish inhabited the quarry. He was the only one there, wasn’t he? He scanned the shores and found that no one had joined him. His gaze drifted to the top of the tall, treacherous ledges that edged the lake. A few stones and grassy dirt clumps had let go of the cliff above him and were falling to their doom in the water below. Ah. The ledge gave way. That’s all it was.
He let out a breath of mild relief and shut his eyes, his hand on his chest as he stabilised his breathing. There was no reason to panic. He had become so jumpy, always fearful that his secrets were about to be unearthed. He was like a scared rabbit, always awaiting danger, perhaps for good reason. A little rabbit had found a home in his chest. It screamed whenever danger approached. He had become accustomed to it and quickly learned that it never cried without reason. Why was the rabbit telling him to run so urgently now when no danger seemed to be near? He grabbed another stone, took another hit of his joint, and looked back to the water. Oh. There was a body. That explained it. Jonathan felt his blood run cold as he scrambled to his feet to get a better view of the sight before him. His heart stalled. The rabbit in his chest clawed at his ribs and told him to turn back now. " ... Will?" No. It couldn't be. Jonathan had seen him that morning in the kitchen. He was alive. Healthy. He had been humming a song he had heard on the radio as he poured himself a bowl of cereal. It couldn’t be him. Yet, the body looked strikingly similar. The body was face up in the water. His head was tipped back. His hands and legs weren’t visible. It possessed his bowl-cut hair, his striped t-shirt, his hand-me-down jacket, his facial features. It was undeniably him . Jonathan felt sick. A feeling of dread overtook the eldest Byers boy as he dropped the joint to the ground. A lump had formed in his throat. His heart was pounding against his ribcage. The rabbit in his chest screamed.
No. No, no no no no no.
"Christ, Will!" Jonathan exclaimed and rushed into the water. The water was ice cold, and an intense chill overtook him as it steadily rose on his body. Cold burned his nose. His diaphragm spasmed as the water reached his chest - his breaths quick and sporadic. The rocks beneath Jonathan’s feet had begun to slip out of place, and he wasn’t sure how much farther he could go before he lost the safety of the solid ground. He had never been a great swimmer. His mother didn’t need two dead sons. The body was a few feet away, and he couldn’t reach it. It was infuriating. If it was his brother, he wasn’t going to let him sit in the water for any longer than he had to. The body taunted him by drifting closer. Jonathan reached for his brother’s too-cold, thick, wrinkly hand and hurriedly pulled him back to shore. He tried not to notice the slimy, unnatural texture of his skin. "Jonathan." A voice, the corpse , sobbed. Jonathan’s breath caught in his throat as he froze and turned back to the body in disbelief. Oh, what a mistake that was. Its- Will's lips weren't moving. The skin was a sickening green colour, wrinkly, and thick from water exposure. The veins were discoloured and purple, trailing across the exposed, puffy skin like vines. Bloody froth gathered at the corpses’ lips. The only thing Jonathan could be thankful for was Will’s closed eyes. "Why weren't you there for me?" Jonathan gagged and turned away. He forced himself to keep walking to shore with the corpse in tow. The rabbit’s terrified screaming was drowned out by the sound of his rapidly beating heart. Something long and flexible wrapped around his wrist and tugged like tendrils pulling him under. He did his best to ignore it.
"Why weren't you there for me, Jonathan? You said you would be. You promised you would be."
The promise. Jonathan had never told him about the silent promise he had made when Will was born. His baby brother was barely a day old, and Jonathan was barely three. He had vowed to protect Will and to always be there for him, no matter what. It was ambitious for a three-year-old, sure, but Jonathan had always kept his promises.
Except for this one.
Jonathan had broken it by putting himself first. He had broken it by running away from his problems with joints and edibles and god knows what else. He had broken it by pulling away from his family and hiding in his bedroom. Will wouldn’t be in the water, unbreathing, unmoving, dead if he had kept his promise.
This was all his fault.
How was he supposed to tell his parents what he found at the quarry? How was he supposed to tell them what happened to his brother? How was he supposed to tell them that it was his fault? "Why didn't you protect me ? The voice deepened as Jonathan exited the lake. He dragged Will up the gravelly beaches and watched the body decay further. The gravel grated the white, wrinkly skin off of the body, and some of the flesh slid off of the bones. Jonathan lost his voice, the colour draining from his face. The rabbit in his chest began to throw itself at his ribs in alarm. If screaming didn’t work, pain would. The eyes snapped open. Jonathan scrambled back and let go of his hand with a yelp, but the corpse held onto his wrist. The skin peeled away from the corpse’s hand layer by layer like an onion. He felt bony, sharp digits dig into his sensitive wrist. He thought he felt blood trickle. He couldn’t tear his eyes away long enough to check. The corpse's eyes followed his movements, glassy and unseeing. It felt like it was looking into his soul, damning him, judging. Jonathan forced his eyes shut and helplessly fought against the piercing grip. Wasn't he already in hell? A clock sounded somewhere in the distance, and the corpse let go of his hand. Jonathan opened his eyes and took the opportunity to back away. The corpse had vanished from the beach as if it had never existed in the first place. His heart was still beating rapidly inside his chest. The rabbit was still screaming. This time, Jonathan listened. He rose to his feet, cautiously scanned the beach in search of any other danger, and ran.