John drove slowly through the quiet streets, April resting her head on his shoulder. She wasn't in a rush to get home. Neither of them was. The usual seven-minute ride stretched to fifteen.
When they finally pulled up to her house, John parked and stepped out with her. He walked her to the front door. She unlocked it, and they went in together.
Inside, Lisa was sprawled on the couch with a bag of frozen peas on her knee, eyes glued to the TV. She didn't even look up when she said, "Finally. Took you long enough."
April answered, "We had to finish our homework."
Lisa smirked. "Don't lie to me, sweetheart. You've got a wet spot on your pants."
April turned bright red. John just smiled.
"You love teasing my little bunny, don't you?" he said.
Lisa grinned. "It's one of my favorite things in the world."
"I'm taking a shower," April said, and gave John a quick kiss before disappearing down the hall.
Lisa raised an eyebrow. "She's gotten bold."
John nodded. "Yeah. A lot more confident lately." His eyes flicked to the peas on her knee. "What happened?"
Lisa waved it off, trying to play it cool. "Just something this morning. Nothing serious."
John's face darkened. "Wait. Your boss fired you over that?" His jaw clenched, fists tightening. "I swear, if I see him—"
Lisa cut him off gently. "I appreciate you being upset for me… really. But it's okay."
John softened. "What about the house? You said things were already tight."
Lisa hesitated, looking down at her lap. "We might have to move. Maybe an apartment…"
Before she could say more, John sat beside her and wrapped his arm around her. "Don't worry about it. I'll take care of you guys."
Lisa shook her head. "No. I can't let you—"
She stopped when John pulled out a small box and opened it.
Inside, an elegant silver ring sparkled under the dim living room light.
Lisa gasped. "John…"
John held out the ring between them, voice steady but low.
"I'm going to ask April to marry me… not today, not tomorrow. But I want you to know—I've got her. And I've got you too. We're family. I'm not going anywhere."
Lisa froze. His words cut through her like sunlight after a storm. Tears welled up in her eyes, uninvited but undeniable. For a long time, she'd been the one holding everything together. Now someone was offering to carry some of it for her.
And that someone wasn't just anybody. It was John—solid, kind, maddeningly good.
She nodded, voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you."
She meant it. With everything in her. But gratitude isn't simple. It cracked something open in her, something she'd kept buried too long—loneliness, fatigue, maybe even envy. April had someone who showed up. Who stayed.
Lisa looked at John, her heart swelling and twisting at once.
For a moment too long, the silence stretched.
She leaned in—kissing him, instinctively—before catching herself and pulling back fast. Her breath hitched, realization slamming into her.
"Oh God," she muttered, eyes wide, avoiding his gaze. "I—I don't know why I—"
John didn't move.
"It's okay," he said quietly.
Lisa wiped her eyes, humiliated and confused.
"I'm sorry."
"You don't have to apologize," John said. "But maybe… maybe you should rest. Let yourself feel everything. You're not alone!"
She let out a shaky breath and nodded.
There was nothing else to say. But for the first time in a long time, Lisa didn't feel like she had to carry everything.
Just then, the bathroom door creaked open.
April stepped into the room, towel around her neck, hair damp. She paused, sensing the tension. "What's going on?"
Lisa jerked upright, startled, and winced as pain shot through her knee. She wobbled, and John instinctively reached out to steady her.
April's eyes darted to Lisa's leg. "Wait—what happened to your knee?"
Lisa tried brushing it off. "It's nothing. Just twisted it this morning."
But April was already moving closer. Her eyes narrowed at the sight of the swollen, bruised skin peeking from beneath the bag of frozen peas.
"You need to see a doctor," April said, concerned. Then she sniffed the air, face scrunching. "Also… you seriously need a shower."
Lisa flushed red. "You think I don't know that? I tried. Nearly fell on my ass. Getting into the tub with one leg doesn't exactly work."
April glanced down at her own arms, then back up, doubtful. "I don't think I'm strong enough to hold you up."
They both turned toward John.
He had been silent, letting them talk, but now he spoke up. "I can help her."
Lisa shook her head, embarrassed. "John, no. It's fine. I'll figure it out."
But April cut in, already nodding. "No—thank you, John. Really."
Lisa hesitated, pride and practicality at war. She sighed. "Fine. I can't stand how I smell anyway."
John gave a small smile. "I've got you."
Lisa looked down, trying not to read into the words. But her heart was already two steps ahead of her brain.
John scooped Lisa up with ease.
She yelped, swatting his shoulder. "Hey! Don't just pick me up like I'm a sack of flour."
He chuckled. "You're lighter than you think."
April laughed as she walked past, already headed to her room. "You two behave," she teased, disappearing down the hall.
John carried Lisa into the bathroom and gently set her on the closed toilet lid. Then, without hesitation, he started pulling off his shirt.
Lisa blinked, stunned. "Wait—what are you doing?"
John glanced at her, a slight smirk playing at his lips. "I can't shower in jeans."
She looked away quickly, cheeks warming. "I—guess not."
She fumbled with her clothes. Her fingers trembled trying to unfasten her skirt, the awkward angle and her injury making it nearly impossible. John, now down to his boxers, stepped forward.
"Here," he said softly.
Lisa hesitated but then let him help her. She kept her eyes away as he gently peeled the fabric from her legs. He made no comments, no jokes—just helped.
They stepped into the shower together. John stood behind her, careful and steady, helping her balance. He guided the water over her shoulders, fingers gently massaging shampoo into her hair, then rinsing her with a cupped hand. He moved with precision, with care—never straying from the task. Never crossing a line.
Lisa waited for something—an inappropriate touch, a suggestive glance. But it never came.
When it was over, they stepped out. John wrapped her in a towel, drying her with the same careful attention. Once she was clean and wrapped in a soft pink bathrobe, she watched him dress. Something in her fluttered when he buttoned the last button of his shirt—final, polite, distant.
He picked her up again and carried her to her room, placing her gently on the bed.
"Thanks," she said, voice quiet.
John leaned down. She kissed him—just a brief press of lips. "Thank you," she repeated, more clearly.
He nodded. "No problem."
After a few moments, he stepped back. "I have to go."
Lisa frowned. "Where?"
"I'm joining the search party. They're still looking for Will."
Her expression shifted. "Oh… be careful, okay?"
"I will. Don't worry."
But Lisa was worried. She held his hand, not letting go.
"Why do you have to go?" she asked. "Can't you just stay here? With me and April?"
John didn't answer right away. His gaze drifted for a moment, thoughtful. When he looked back at her, his expression was soft but firm.
"Because someone has to. And I'd want someone to look if it were one of us."
Lisa looked down, chewing her lip. She didn't argue.
He gave her hand a squeeze, then let go.
John exhaled slowly. "Believe me, I'd much rather stay here with you and April. But Will's missing. He might be in danger. He's my little pal—I can't sit this out."
Lisa looked up at him, searching his face. She could see it: there was no changing his mind. She sighed and leaned in to kiss him one more time—soft, lingering. Then she eased back into the pillows.
John lingered, watching her with concern. Then he sat beside her, gently taking her hands in his. He rubbed them slowly, grounding both of them in the moment. Lisa's green eyes searched his again.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Blondie," he said with a soft smile.
Lisa pulled him into a hug. She held on for just a few seconds longer than she meant to, then let go.
John stood, called out a goodbye to April, and walked out. A few minutes later, the sound of his car faded into the distance.
---
Meanwhile, at the Wheeler residence…
The family sat around the dinner table. A perfectly roasted chicken sat in the center—skin crisp, juices pooling on the platter. It should have been a comforting meal, but tension hummed through the air like static.
Mike dropped his fork with a clatter. "We should be out there right now. Looking for Will."
Karen sighed. "We've been over this, Mike. The Chief said—"
"I don't care what the Chief said."
"Michael," Karen warned.
"He's out there! Will could be in danger and we're just sitting here?"
"Exactly why you're staying home," Karen snapped. "You're a kid. You're not running into the woods in the middle of the night."
"Mom!"
"End of discussion."
The table went quiet. The only sounds were clinking forks and Ted chewing. Nancy stared down at her plate.
Finally, Nancy broke the silence. "So… Barb and I were gonna study at her place tonight. That cool?"
Karen blinked. "No, that's not cool."
Nancy frowned. "Why not?"
Karen's tone sharpened. "Why do you think? Until we know Will is okay, nobody leaves this house. I'm not speaking Chinese here."
Nancy threw down her napkin. "This is such bullshit."
"Language," Ted muttered without looking up.
Nancy muttered, "So we're under house arrest now? Just because Mike's friend got lost on the way home from—"
She stopped mid-sentence, realizing how harsh she sounded.
Mike's voice cracked. "Wait. You think this is Will's fault?"
Karen's eyes narrowed. "Nancy. Take that back."
Nancy swallowed. "I didn't mean—sorry. That came out wrong."
Mike glared. "You're just mad you can't go hang out with Steve."
Nancy's head snapped toward him. "You little—"
Ted cut in again. "Steve?"
Karen's brow furrowed. "Who is Steve?"
Mike didn't hesitate. "Her boyfriend."
Karen's eyes flashed. I thought she was in love with John, she thought. There's nobody better than John.
Nancy hissed at Mike, "You're such a douchebag!"
Ted: "Language."
Nancy pushed back from the table and stormed out.
"Nancy!" Karen called after her. "Come back here!" But the stairs thudded with Nancy's stomping retreat.
Karen sighed and turned to Holly, who sat wide-eyed and silent. "It's okay, sweetie. It's okay. Here—have some juice."
Ted said to Mike, "You see what happens now?"
Mike exploded. "What happens when what? I'm the only one acting normal here! I'm the only one who cares about Will!"
Ted said flatly, "That's unfair. We all care." Then he took another bite of chicken.
Mike stood up, done with all of it. "Screw this." He stomped out.
Karen called, "Mike!" but Ted just mumbled, "Let him go."
Karen looked at Ted, then at his plate as he kept eating, seemingly detached from everything.
"I hope you're enjoying your chicken, Ted," she muttered.
She picked up Holly and left the room without another word. Ted blinked. "What did I do? Hey! What did I do?!"
Karen found Mike in his room, sitting on the edge of his bed, face hard.
She spoke softly. "Sweetie, I know you're worried. I am too. But it's not safe out there for you."
"I should be with them," Mike muttered. "I should be helping."
Karen sat beside him. "I'm sorry. I can't let you go. But… you'll feel better knowing this—John's out there. He joined the search party."
Mike's head snapped up. "Really?"
She nodded. "He left just a little while ago."
Mike didn't smile exactly, but some of the tension eased from his shoulders.
Karen kissed his forehead. "Goodnight. I love you."
"I love you too."
She stood and walked out quietly, heading to her room. She closed the door and locked it.
Then she pinned a note to the outside:
You're sleeping on the couch, Ted.
She set Holly gently on the bed, pulling the covers over her as the little girl curled up without protest.
Karen turned to the closet and changed out of her clothes. Standing in the nude, she caught her reflection in the mirror.
She paused.
Her hands ran over her sides, her hips. A little softness here. A fuller shape there. She tilted her head, assessing.
"Getting a little plump," she murmured to herself. "Guess that's what happens after a baby and too many quiet dinners."
She touched her chest, noticing the difference. "Definitely fuller too…"
She smiled faintly, a little embarrassed by her own thoughts. Then she shook her head and chuckled to herself.
John wouldn't care, she thought. If anything, he'd probably like it. She smiled at the thought of his hand grabbing at her body with lust. 'That'll never happen. A woman can dream though, right?'
The smile faded as her eyes drifted back to the door.
Her thoughts turned to Ted—how distant he'd become, how removed he was from her and the kids. Always present but never there. He didn't really care. Not the way a husband, a father, should.
She had thought that maybe… maybe having another baby would bring them closer. That a new start might fix what had faded. But it hadn't. Ted hated the crying. The sleepless nights. He hated the way her body had changed, the new stretch to her hips, the softness she hadn't shaken off.
But Karen didn't regret having Holly. Not for a second. Holly was her shadow, her sidekick. Pure and curious. She looked at Karen with love and wanted her attention.
Nancy and Mike still loved her, sure, but they were growing up. Pulling away. Wanting space.
Her mind drifted—again—to John.
He'd been over so many times these past few weeks. Helping her with different chores. Things her husband had never bothered to do. Cleaning the gutters, teaching Mike how to do so while being safe.
Taking a look at her car, when it was giving her issues. She remembered the ease at which he took off the carburetor and cleaned it.
He even helped her start a small garden in the backyard. She reminisced, thinking of his strong form tilling an area. Working hard just to make her something special. Ted never did such things.
He was always checking in. Talking with the kids. Playing with Holly.
He had even given her some money for a spa day.
He cared. More than her own husband.
He made Mike laugh when no one else could. Karen remembered the way Nancy used to light up when John came around.
She had a crush on him once, Karen recalled. Who wouldn't?
A quiet pang of envy bloomed in her chest. I should have found a man like John.
She'd moved too fast when she was younger. Chosen Ted because he was stable, respectable, on track for success.
But he wasn't kind. Not the way John was.
She thought about John's hand, big and strong. Yet gentle.
His steady voice. His warmth. How he anticipated her needs.
Her heart fluttered, just a little. Her skin flushed with the heat of wanting something she knew she shouldn't.
She forced the thoughts away.
Stop it.
Her mind snapped back to where it should be—Mike. Nancy. John, out there in the woods. And Will… still missing.
The silence in the house suddenly felt too heavy. Too fragile.
She slipped on her robe and tied it at the waist. Then sat on the edge of the bed beside Holly, brushing her fingers softly through her daughter's hair.
"We'll be okay," she whispered.
She hoped she was right.
...
At the meeting point just off the road, John pulled over behind a line of cars. Around sixteen vehicles were already parked on the shoulder, headlights cutting through the dark. He killed the engine, stepped out, and walked toward the cluster of people gathering near Chief Hopper.
He arrived just in time to hear instructions.
"All right," Hopper said, voice firm. "We'll spread out—five feet between each of you. Move forward slowly. Eyes open. If you see anything, shout."
He scanned the group. No one spoke.
"Good. Let's move."
Everyone nodded and began to fan out into the woods. John stayed near the middle of the line, not far from Hopper and Mr. Clarke.
They called out into the trees—"Will!" "Will Byers!"—voices echoing off the trunks and underbrush. John shouted a few times himself, scanning the ground for signs, trying to remember where the drainage pipe near Hawkins Lab was.
Nearby, Hopper and Clarke fell into an awkward conversation.
"He's a good student," Mr. Clarke offered.
Hopper glanced over. "What?"
"Will. A good student. Great one, actually." Clarke extended a hand. "Scott Clarke. Earth and biology at Hawkins Middle."
Hopper shook it reluctantly. "Never had much love for science."
"Maybe you had a bad teacher."
"Ms. Ratliff," Hopper said with a dry chuckle. "She was a piece of work."
Clarke grinned. "Still is. She's somehow still kicking around."
"Mummies never die," Hopper muttered. His voice shifted—lower, more thoughtful. "Sarah, my daughter… She was into that stuff. Galaxies, atoms. I never needed to look beyond Earth, but she… she loved looking up."
Clarke tilted his head. "What grade is she in? Maybe I'll get her in my class."
Hopper slowed for a second, then cleared his throat. "She, uh… lives with her mom. In the city."
He picked up his pace before Clarke could respond. "Thanks for coming out, Teach. We appreciate it."
John watched the chief silently. The heaviness in his tone wasn't lost on him. He didn't need the woman who walked up to Clarke and quietly said, "His daughter… she died," to understand.
The air grew colder.
John stepped ahead of the others by ten feet or so, eyes trained on the trees. Then something moved in the underbrush.
A wolf stepped into the clearing—alone, hackles raised, teeth bared. It growled low, staring straight at John.
Hopper instinctively reached for his weapon—but paused.
The wolf didn't lunge. It didn't charge. John, calm and still, crouched down and extended a hand.
The wolf froze, then lowered its head and allowed John to stroke its fur before slipping silently back into the forest.
Hopper watched, stunned. A lone wolf was supposed to be dangerous—abandoned, unpredictable. But this one hadn't attacked. It had trusted.
He shook his head and moved on.
---
Back at the Wheeler house...
Mike sat in his room, storm clouds behind his eyes. Enough was enough.
He picked up his walkie. "Lucas? You there?"
Static. Then, "Hey, it's Lucas."
Mike said, "I know it's you. And say 'over' when you're done, so I know you're finished. Over."
Lucas: "I'm done. Over."
Mike: "I'm worried about Will. Over."
Lucas sighed. "Yeah… this is crazy. Over."
Mike leaned forward. "You remember the campaign? Will could've cast Protection. But he didn't. He cast Fireball. Over."
Lucas was quiet. "What's your point? Over."
"My point is… he didn't play it safe. He put himself in danger for the party. Over."
More silence. Then:
"Meet me in ten. Over and out."
Mike shoved the radio into his backpack. Sneaking out was easy—Ted was lost in his TV, Karen nowhere in sight.
He wheeled his bike out through the garage—and stopped.
Steve Harrington was halfway up a trellis, struggling to climb to Nancy's window. Steve saw Mike. They locked eyes.
Mike said nothing. He had bigger things to do. He turned away and pedaled into the night.
---
Upstairs...
Nancy heard tapping at her window. She opened it to find Steve clumsily climbing inside. He grinned. She rolled her eyes, then smiled back.
They talked for a bit. Then they kissed.
---
At Benny's Diner...
Eleven sat at the counter, legs swinging, face lit up with delight as she spooned strawberry ice cream into her mouth. Her cheeks were clean now. Her eyes brighter. Her guard lower.
Benny dried a pan and smiled at her. "You like that ice cream, huh?"
She nodded, grinning.
"That smile looks good on you," Benny said. He flashed her a goofy grin of his own. She giggled.
A few minutes passed. Then—knocking at the diner's front door.
Eleven froze. Benny raised a hand.
"It's okay. You just sit tight. I'll be right back."
He walked into the dining area and opened the front door to a woman with short blonde hair and a friendly smile.
"Hi," she said. "You must be Benny Hammond."
"I'm afraid I am," Benny said. "But we're closed. Try back in the morning."
"Connie Frazier. Social Services."
Benny blinked. "Ah. Right. Sorry—I didn't expect you so soon. That's a heck of a drive."
"Not too bad this time of night."
Benny scratched the back of his neck. "I, uh, didn't tell her you were coming. She's skittish. Ran off before."
"The children I work with usually are."
"Right, right. She's in the kitchen. Come on, I'll introduce you."
They stepped inside.
"Sorry again for trying to turn you away."
"It's fine."
"You know, it's funny. Your voice sounded different on the—"
The shot rang out before he finished the sentence.
Benny dropped like a stone. Blood pooled across the floor.
Connie—if that was her real name—stepped over his body without a flicker of emotion.
The sound echoed like thunder in Eleven's ears.
She flinched, dropping her spoon, the pink ice cream splattering across the counter. The radio in the kitchen buzzed softly, static hissing into the silence.
Then—nothing. No footsteps. No voices. Just the low hum of the fluorescent lights above and the cold stillness that settled over everything.
Eleven slid off the stool. Her bare feet made no sound on the tile. She crept toward the kitchen doorway, drawn by instinct and fear.
She peeked out.
And saw Benny.
Lying still. Face down. Blood dark and wide beneath his head.
Her breath caught in her throat. Something primal surged inside her—danger.
She didn't understand what had happened. But she knew what it meant.
Run.