Jonathan is sitting on the floor using Joyce's tweezers to pull glass out of Steve's left foot. Steve must've stepped on one of the shards that scattered the room as he scrambled to his feet to get away.

Jonathan was the one who had noticed it was bleeding.

Steve hadn't even felt it. Still doesn't.

He's too numb. (And not just from the cold.)

"You doin' okay?" Jonathan asks, looking up to meet Steve's eyes.

"Yeah," Steve answers automatically.

Jonathan's gaze lingers on him a little longer, unbelieving. But Steve is being halfway honest.

At least here he feels safe.

Dare he even say loved?

xxx

Jonathan works diligently and intently as he patches Steve up.

Steve barely knows Byers, but he knows enough to know that the guy isn't much of a talker and at the moment, he's not pressing for answers.

Steve is grateful. He doesn't think he can speak over the lump in his throat.

Jonathan is overly delicate as he cleans the cuts on Steve's arms with antiseptics that he seemed to produce from nowhere. Steve lets him.

He's so tired.

xxx

"Where's your mom?" Jonathan asks quietly, once he's stopped his ministrations and has joined Steve on the bed. He sits close, thighs lightly touching.

Steve swallows hard, feels emotion rise back up in his chest. "Don't know."

"What do you mean?"

Steve runs his hands through his damp hair then lets them fall against his sides. "They were in Paris."

"Your mom and dad?" Jonathan clarifies.

Steve nods. "My dad had a business trip. They weren't due back for another week." He clears his throat gruffly, tries to get a grip. It's all starting to hit him now.

"They came back early?"

"He did. She wasn't with him." Steve bites down on his lip. "He said she wouldn't get on the plane."

"So they fought." It's not really a question.

"I-I don't know. I c-couldn't… I had to get out." His hands feel numb. This is too much to deal with. He's going to fucking lose it.

"Okay," Jonathan says quietly, putting his hand on Steve's knee and squeezing gently. He can sense that Steve is on the brink. "We'll figure this out. You're safe now."

You're safe now.

xxx

Some amount of time later – Steve has lost all track of time – Jonathan asks if he wants to lie down.

Steve does. His lower back is aching something awful. He winces as he remembers his dad shoving him into the island counter. No fucking wonder his back hurts.

Jonathan helps bring his legs onto the bed while Steve relaxes into his pillows.

"Close your eyes if you want to, man. I'll wake you up when Hopper gets here."

Steve lets his heavy lids close and listens to Jonathan putter around his room.

He's out within minutes.

Xxx

Steve rouses slightly to hushed voices.

"He thinks his mom's still in Paris." That's Jonathan.

"Did he hit his head?" That's Joyce. "Because he's still recovering from that concussion, and if he hit his head…"

"I don't think he did, Mom. He got out of there fast."

"Is his dad still at the house?" That's Chief Hopper.

"As far as I know, yeah."

Steve opens his eyes then, sees Jim, Joyce, and Jonathan hovering by the bedroom door. He pushes himself up into a seated position, head feeling like a thousand tons. "Hey," he croaks.

"Oh, Steve, you're awake," Joyce says, crossing the room to sit next to Steve on the bed. "How are you feeling, hon?" She gives Steve a warm side-hug and then pulls away to run a hand through his mop of hair.

"I'm okay," Steve says earnestly, because he should be okay. This is nothing compared to fighting Demodogs, right?

Right?

"Let me take a look at him," Hopper says. "You two mind giving us a moment?"

"Sure," Jonathan says. "Mom?"

Joyce sighs, not fond of being dismissed in her own home. "Fine," she says. She squeezes Steve's knee and stands up.

"We'll just be a second," Jim assures her, walking her to the door. He closes it behind them and then turns to face Steve.

He's in his officer get-up minus the boots. He must've kicked them off at the front door. "Hey, kid," he greets gruffly as he removes his hat and sets it down on Jonathan's dresser.

"Hey, Chief," Steve returns awkwardly. He's finding it hard to meet Jim's eyes; he's always been a little intimidated by the man.

"Those kids out there are pretty freaked out on your behalf, Harrington," Jim says, thumbing over his shoulder.

Steve tries to find his voice. "Yeah. I s-showed up l-looking pretty rough, I guess. I'm okay now – you really didn't have to—"

"Nonsense," Jim states bluntly, and holds a stare until Steve meets his eyes. "If any of you kids are ever in trouble, of any kind, I am only one call away and I will be here. You understand me?"

Steve looks down abashedly, can feel the honestly in Jim's proclamation. "Yes, sir," he says quietly, and reaches up to rub the back of his head. "So, uh, did Byers fill you in?"

"He did."

Steve bites down on his lip. "O-Okay. Okay, good."

Hopper clears his throat. "And I'm sure Jonathan did a good job patching you up, but I still want to take a look. If that's okay."

Steve nods. He sits still while Jim kneels down in front of him to peel off his sock and take a look at his injured foot. He only shudders a little as Hopper removes his sweatshirt to look at the cuts on his arms.

But he flinches when Jim puts a delicate hand on his lower back because it hurts. "Son of a bitch…" Jim growls. "Jesus, kid…"

Steve sucks in some shuddering breaths as Jim continues to lightly press the bruises on his back.

"That's it," Jim says firmly, resolutely.

"What?" Steve breathes.

"Here, kid, get this back on," Hopper says as he helps guide Steve's arms through the sweatshirt so he can pull it back over his head. "I'm going to go pay your dad a visit."

Steve's heart stutters and a wave of nausea washes over him. But he feels himself whispering, "Okay," because that's what his father deserves.

Hopper crosses the room to open the door, to which Jonathan and Joyce are still standing right outside. "I'm going to the house," Jim tells them as he puts his hat back on.

"But Hop, there's a flashflood warning for the county," Joyce protests. "I just saw it on the news… It's not safe."

"I will be fine," Jim says. "It's not that far."

Joyce brings her hands to her head. "Fine," she allows. "Just be careful, alright? And come back here when you're finished."

Jim puts both hands on her shoulders and squeezes gently. "I will. Take care of the kid."

Joyce nods as a tear slips down her cheek. Jim disappears down the hall and Joyce steps in Jonathan's room to give Steve a watery smile. She brushes the tear off swiftly. "The boys just started watching Ghostbusters," she says. "Why don't we go join them?"

Steve swallows hard, wishes he didn't have to face the kids, but also doesn't want to be alone. Besides, he knows he's going to have to face the kids eventually; might as well get it over with now. They deserve the truth. "Okay," he says softly.

"Let me give you a hand," Jonathan says, crossing the room to help Steve off the bed.

Steve lets him, and together they walk to the TV room.