Chapter Text
“Mike. Mike, just calm down,” Jonathan stammered, holding his hands in front of him placatingly.
Mike scrambled over his discarded bike. Wincing, Jonathan closed his eyes for a moment. Mike was just a kid, he shouldn’t have to hear this. Jonathan said as much.
“Bullshit,” snapped Mike. “Are you kidding me? What, were you just gonna keep this a fucking secret until Steve dug himself into the ground?”
Immediately, Joyce went on damage control. “That’s not going to happen. Steve’s just going through something, hon. He’s going to be fine. ”
Jonathan nodded. “He always is.”
Mike’s eyes flashed with anger. He opened his mouth, ready to yell, and then abruptly closed it, as though he’d thought better of it. He took a deep breath, barely concealed rage hiding behind gritted teeth. “Have you ever thought,” Mike began, deadly calm, “that maybe that’s the problem? We just expect Steve to be fine, ‘cause he’s King Steve or whatever.”
An unbidden memory flitted through Jonathan’s mind. “What have you ever lost, huh? A little sleep? Your fucking prom king title? Give me a break. I’m sick of you acting like you know what we’ve been through, you weren’t even there when it started!” Jonathan grimaced. He’d made it worse. He knew he had. And now, here he was, airing out Steve’s dirty laundry to Steve’s ex-girlfriend’s younger brother, who’d never even particularly liked Steve. Or so Jonathan had thought, anyway. Clearly, he’d been wrong about Mike, just like he’d been wrong about Steve. “Mike, I know this is hard to believe, okay? I get that. But you can’t mention this to the others.”
Mike stared at him, his gaze softening. “Are you planning on ignoring this?”
Yes, Jonathan wanted to say. Yeah, I wish I’d never known Steve felt like this, because it would have made it so much easier to hate him. Instead, he said nothing.
Sensing Jonathan’s discomfort, Joyce gently interjected. “Of course not. We’re going to talk to Steve, alright? We just… we just don’t want Steve getting scared off. You can understand how the idea of all of you knowing might upset him, right?”
Mike blinked. He clearly hadn’t thought of that. The fight left his stance, and he deflated. When he quietly spoke again, his words were sharp. “And what about Dustin?”
Jonathan stiffened. “What about him?”
“Were you planning on telling him?”
“Well, no. It’s not like he and Steve are exactly on good terms right now.”
Mike sighed. “I know, but still. Maybe it would help-”
“No,” snapped Jonathan, suddenly tired of the whole idea. “End of discussion, Mike. It’s not your business, and Steve would be embarrassed,” he said, hoping he sounded convincing. But deep down, Jonathan knew the real reason he didn’t want to tell Dustin, even if he would never admit it: If Dustin reacted badly, or worse, didn’t react at all, that would ruin Steve.
“Fine,” said Mike, taking a few steps back. “But for the record, I still think keeping this from him is a bad idea.” He picked up his bike, and started walking it back towards the garage. He paused, gripping the handlebars tightly, the conversation from earlier still occupying his thoughts. “Does Nancy know?”
Joyce looked to Jonathan for confirmation. He shook his head. Fuck.
“No,” he said at last.
“She should,” Mike said.
“What, so she’ll cozy back up to him?” sneered Jonathan, shocking even himself at the animosity in his voice.
“Jonathan!” Mrs. Byers scolded. “Jealousy is not a good color on you.”
Mike chose to ignore Jonathan’s comment. “No. I just thought she might be able to get through to him. But whatever. It’s your funeral. Or Steve’s, I guess, since you’re so keen on keeping his issues a secret.” Throwing a final glance over his shoulder, Mike disappeared into the garage.
“Asshole,” Jonathan muttered.
It didn’t change the fact that Mike was right.