He doesn't know why. He doesn't really like being known-and honestly doesn't like most people knowing his name.
(more) But something about the way Nancy says it makes him feel warm. Something about the way she croons his name while stroking his hair, calming him down after he's had a nightmare, makes him feel warm and safe and important. A name is important, but his is important only to Nancy. He doesn't care about anyone else.
So it's interesting the first time he feels his attention bloom wide open when sitting with Steve and Nancy, watching some old-time horror show, and Steve, half asleep, just says his name.
His voice is low, soft. Nancy's already fallen asleep. It's been an interesting road, forgiving him and feeling comfortable enough with him to let him stay the night at Jonathan's with Nancy.
"Yeah?" he asks, ignoring the funny way his chest feels.
"What time's it?"
He glances at the wall. "Just past 1."
Steve, sitting on Jonathan's opposite side, sighs and leans his head against Jonathan's shoulder. His hair tickles Jonathan on the cheek, but he doesn't comment on it. "We sleep here?" Steve asks, voice still sleepy and low.
Jonathan wants him to say his name again. He bites his lip and doesn't respond.
"Yeah," he says. "We can, I guess. My mom won't care." He feels guilty. Jonathan always feels guilty, but for this especially. He reaches down, pulling up the blanket set under the table, and gently tosses it over Steve's form and his own. Nancy has her own blanket. "Thanks for lettin' me come," Steve says, and when Jonathan turns his head he sees his eyes are already closed.
"No problem, Steve."
The boy's mouth quirks upward in a smile. (less)