Secrets // Steve Harrington

Chapter Four - Joyce

Word Count: 3,581 words. 

Warnings: None. 

When I drove up to the Byers' residence, I noticed that Jonathon was already rushing out of the house towards his car. Noticing that I had pulled into his driveway, he stopped for a moment to greet me.

"How is she?" I asked, turning the ignition off and stepping out of the car. "That's a stupid question. She can't be good."

"She's..." he trailed off, tilting his gaze back to the closed door. His left hand tensed into a fist. Letting out a small sniffle, he looked back at me again. "We got a call last night and she swears that she heard him breathing Lia. Breathing. How can you tell who it is from breathing?"

I sighed, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him into a tight hug. Jonathon was hesitant to return it but eventually did, letting the palms of his hands rest gently against my shoulder blades.

"Her son is missing. She'll believe whatever she needs to and we'll let her," I muttered.

He rest his head against my shoulder and I heard him sniffle again. His grip tightened slightly. "We have to find him."

Pulling away, I placed a gentle hand on his face. "We will. You go start putting up flyers, I'll make sure Joyce is alright and then follow you."

He nodded. "Yeah."

Smiling, I shoved his face playfully towards his car. "Now go."

Jonathon got into his car, turning on the ignition and reversed out of his driveway. I waved shortly, sighing. He was a sensitive guy. That was something you learned after being friends with him for years. He tried to be strong for everyone else. In this case, Joyce, but he himself struggled more than everyone else combined.

I knew that he blamed himself for Will going missing. I wasn't sure what had happened that he didn't come home from Mike's but I knew that Jonathon blamed himself. It was what he did. Will got bullied last year in a completely different school to us, where we had no idea what was going on, and he blamed himself for letting it happen. He blamed himself for their dad leaving, even though Jonathon hated Lonnie Byers. Perhaps more than Joyce. He took on everyone else's problems, and I found a way to relate to that. My issues weren't important as long as everyone else was happy.

"Thalia?" Joyce's feeble voice asked, turning my attention to the woman at the door.

I felt a harsh pang in my heart once I saw her state. Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying and the dark rings that usually hung around them – from working double shifts most days – were more prominent that they ever had been. The woman hadn't slept a wink.

I didn't even greet her. I didn't say hello. I didn't ask how she was. That was the last thing a mother whose child is missing should be asked. I just hugged her.

I wrapped my arms around her, pulling the small woman close to me. We were roughly the same height and yet in the state she was in, it felt like I was the adult, and she was the scared child whose mother had just jumped off the bridge.

"Do you..." she tried, wiping tears from under her eyes. "Do you want a cup of coffee?"

I nodded gently. "Do you want to make or will I?" I offered. The right thing to do was insist that I make the coffee, but by doing that, it would be the same as reminding her that her son was missing.

I knew what it was like. To be on the other end of someone's condolences. They were all sorry for your loss and none of them could imagine what you were going through. Every single person you met was there when you needed them and they understood what you were feeling. No they fucking didn't. How could they?