Chapter Text
you don’t love me?
it’s bullshit.
the first time robin buckley sees nancy wheeler was at a party.
actually, that isn’t all true, the first time robin buckley saw nancy wheeler was during mrs. hansen’s third-period chemistry class.
the first time robin buckley saw how human nancy was, and how delicately she moved, was at a party.
she’s dressed in the most off-putting al pacino costume from the movie dog day afternoon. the costume isn’t bad, and she doesn’t blame anyone for not getting it, but something a little more mainstream could have scored her some free booze, or maybe a pack of semi-expensive smokes. but god, robin hates mainstream movies, and re-creating the dress from carrie would have made her skin crawl once she put it on.
nancy’s dressed like an angel. not literally, of course, but her and steve harrington are the dynamic duo of the night. robin spots the flow of the baby-white skirt nancy has on, and the tie around her neck is a rich black velvet that looks expensive. she tries to mimic the shimmy nancy does to the music playing from piss-poor speakers across the house.
once the song finishes robin watches as she runs to the kitchen, skirt swaying in the sickly yellow-lit room as she pushes her cup under a clear bowl of a red, syrupy liquid. the cup comes up full and drips down the sides of her fingers. robin watches intently as one-by-one nancy puts her fingers in her mouth and sucks the juice off. not soon after, steve is right behind her with a tense grip on the cup, shaking his head back and forth.
the tussling, robin assumes, goes on for a good five minutes. all she can do is watch and observe. she doesn’t even want to interfere, or find out what they’re fighting about. what’s so important that hot people have to argue at a party about it?
robin can’t make out what he’s saying but it can’t be good. the cup is placed on the counter and nancy’s eyebrows furrow, like she’s angry. robin thinks if she were steve harrington she would do anything within her reach to not make her angry. robin would hold her like water in her hands.
she takes a deep swig of her beer and when she looks back up nancy wheeler is covered in red. the stains on her shirt resemble blood, and steve harrington is in front of her with his hands together, like he’s praying; begging, almost. robin lifts her eyebrows and just laughs.
what a fucking dumbass.
she stands around for a few and then things get fuzzy. her brain short circuits, and in a split second she’s so bored she might die.
robin decides, very quickly, that it’s time to dip. she makes a beeline for the bathroom and manages to make it within a good five seconds of fast-paced walking and rushed sorry’s and excuse me’s. she shuts the door behind her and tries to twist the lock but all it does is go around in circles. robin slides her back down the door and hopes nobody tries to open it on her. it hits her all too quickly that she’s at a party she really has no business attending.
robin has suddenly become too aware of her surroundings and all of the hunched-over standing while mouth breathing she has been doing for the past hour.
she feels as if she’s trapped in a zoo cage.
a muffled version of the human league’s don’t you want me can be heard from outside the door. robin picks herself up and takes off her blazer. god, it’s hot, she thinks. robin loosens her tie a smidgen and unbuttons the top two buttons from her shirt. she walks over to the toilet and puts down the seat, then sits.
what the fuck is she doing?
the song plays on and robin hums along, picking at the skin on her fingers. she wants to go home very badly. she can’t drive, and even if she could, she’s about three beers deep and the existentialism is coming in waves, making her so far gone if she got behind the wheel of anything she might run it off a bridge.
when the sweat dries off her palms and her heart rate slows down, robin walks herself over to the sink and spins the handle. she notices the wallpaper, and how ugly it is. florals on florals in the nastiest shade of blue she’s ever seen. the water runs cold, and soaks robin’s fingers like how lake water feels. she bows her head and splashes it on her face.
robin stands up straight, letting it soak her neck and shirt. she stares at herself intensely in the mirror. what am i looking for? what am i waiting for? robin doesn’t know. she tilts her head, closing her eyes. the water is still running.
and then the door opens.
robin hears a girl crying, some sniffling, and then a coughing sound that sounds sporadic and nasty; like hyperventilating. the water is still running.
robin opens her eyes, turns off the faucet, and wipes her face with her sleeve. the material is coarse on her cheeks, and the backs of her hands feel how warm she is.
“god, fuck, i’m sorry,” the girl – nancy, robin sees, says, “i didn’t know anyone was in here, fuck.”
“the door doesn’t lock,” robin starts. “and it’s not like i was pissing, so,” she laughs out.
nancy braces herself on the counter of the sink, with her hands on either side of the counter.
robin slowly walks past her and closes the door, then grabs a roll of toilet paper from the top shelf above the toilet. the packaging is loud like wrapping paper in her hands. she tears off a thick fold and holds out her hand.
“do you want this?” robin asks, weak.
nancy heaves a shaky sigh but reaches out to grab it. her hands are shaking at speeds robin can barely comprehend, and when she wipes her face it’s fast and rough. robin sees her in the mirror, all pink tones with streaks of black and red beating into her face. her eyes are wide, and filled with glossy tears. she watches as a teardrop slides down her cheek and under her chin.
“i’m – god i never act like this,” nancy says, fast, then sighs. “i’m sorry, really, it’s just,” she says after, still very fast.
“i think i’m hyperventilating, swear to god,” nancy says. robin laughs nervously.
robin’s hands brace nancy’s shoulders as she turns nancy from facing the mirror to facing herself. she can’t even believe she’s allowed to do this. the music is still so loud.
robin and nancy are now facing each other, eye to eye.
“you need to like, take a fucking breather, dude,” robin says. she tries to be nice but unfortunately, she doesn’t think it’s in her genetics. she can, however, be real. she can only hope nancy takes it as nicely as possible.
lucky for robin, and the unfortunate circumstances that have brought her into this situation, she doesn’t really have to worry about her words being skewed.
“deep breaths in and out,” robin says, and nancy follows.
nancy’s breathing is shaky, and her chest twitches as it goes up, and then slowly goes back down. after a few rounds, it begins to even out. robin mimics the breathing as nancy does it, and gently takes her hands off of her shoulders.
“now, are you okay?” robin asks.
nancy shrugs.
“i’m just – god, i didn’t even want to go tonight,” nancy says, and robin slides in a smooth “me neither,” after her. nancy doesn’t catch it.
“i don’t even know whose house this is. and i’m – i’m just so angry, it’s like all steve does is piss me off,” nancy says.
robin notices how her tone isn’t necessarily full of anger as much as it is full of disgust.
“and i have fucking vodka-punch all over me,” nancy adds, and then begins to sob again.
robin assumes she is very drunk.
“first off, i’m very sorry this happened. second off, do you want my blazer, or like a shirt or something?” robin asks.
“i – yeah, help me strip,” nancy replies, and robin feels grotesque. it feels almost inappropriate.
nancy props herself onto the counter and holds her arms up. robin gets between her legs and holds her head straight, looking at herself in the mirror. her stomach feels as if it’s a hornet’s nest that has just been swatted at. nancy lifts her arms and robin starts at the waistline, grabbing the shirt and then firmly pulling. the texture is cashmere, and when the material graces her fingers it feels soft. robin assumes it’s very expensive, but figures it quite rude to ask, so she keeps silent.
the sweater is removed rather quickly and all that remains is a very spaced-out nancy in a bra that looks tight and uncomfortable. robin finishes her task and sets the sweater down beside nancy.
“i don’t think the stain will come out, sorry,” robin says.
nancy doesn’t speak, but closes her eyes and falls back onto the wall, her head making a thud sound against the wallpaper. robin is still pushed between her legs, and nancy’s arms cross against her waist.
robin watches her, as if she’s waiting. she doesn’t move or speak, but robin can see she’s awake. her left hand lays atop her right, with her index finger going over her thumb. her breathing is evenly spaced. this must be the closest thing to peacefulness nancy has seen all night.
then, nancy swallows and opens her mouth.
“i’m just not having fun anymore,” she says. her words are slurring, and robin levels the causes to alcohol and general sleepiness. when she checks her watch it is a quarter past ten.
“like, did you know he asked me if i loved him tonight? holy fuck,” nancy adds, surprised. “it’s just – it feels like a chore. i don’t even get it.”
robin is unsure of what to say. she doesn’t even want to add anything to it, given she’s never had a relationship before. this sounds like entirely new ground for her.
“and i thought i did, or at least, like, i told myself i did,” nancy says. her eyes are open now, but rolled back. it’s almost like she’s recounting her epiphanies. “love him, i mean.”
it gets quiet. robin feels like she’s in way over her head, like she shouldn’t be hearing this at all.
she breaks the silence with, “yeah, i get it.”
she does not get it. nancy is still shirtless.
“and, like, i was so excited when we first started dating.” nancy slurs, her head rolling to the other side.
she is looking at robin, and robin is looking at her, and she’s still shirtless. robin moves from the space between her legs and picks up her blazer, then places it on nancy’s lap.
“here’s the shirt, by the way,” she says, and nancy picks it up and wiggles the coat on. robin takes notice on how it falls quite long on her, thinks it looks quite endearing.
“and i don’t really know what all you’re going through, but sorry it happened.” she adds, and nancy sighs, smiling.
nancy rubs her eyes and replies, “it’s whatever, i just don’t know what to do.”
robin thinks about the manner of time in which these two have found themselves in and banters back and forth with herself. would her advice be helpful at all? what exactly could she say without saying too much? is it worth it to say anything at all, to give yourself away at an angle to a girl you may never speak to again? who may look at you under the wrong type of light?
“fuck, i’m tired,” nancy says. rubbing her eyes. the fabric of robin’s shirt rustles as she moves and catches robin off guard. she isn’t tipsy as much as she is just a little dizzy. but one look at nancy and she can see she is the epitome of fucked up. robin wouldn't be surprised if she just fell over.
“hey, i’m not really familiar with like – your situation,” robin starts. nancy looks at her clean in the eyes, all wide and full of attention. “but it sounds like you don’t really like him.”
“fuck if you know anything,” nancy says. “no offense.”
robin attempts not to take offense. the truth is, robin can’t really understand anything like that at all. the first boy she had ever kissed was named matthew and robin almost started crying whenever he touched her. the day he asked her out she went home from school early to just stare at the wall. his hand in her’s made her feel like there were spiderwebs all over her. the nerves settled in quickly as rotten, and robin had never felt the need to transform them into something that they weren’t.
the next week robin never talked to him again. when she saw him in the hallway she would speed up, and if he sped up she would walk faster. it did not take her very long to understand the object of her desire was ginger with thick, bulky frames upon her nose. the object of her desire never touched her like matthew did but looked at robin as if she was more than something to want to fuck.
robin thoroughly enjoyed looking into the eyes of her. matthew moved schools and so did robin and there were other girls to stare into the eyes of. now she is in a bathroom with one who has the prettiest eyes of them all.
“do you not just feel forced?” robin asks. it’s blunt, and really out of nowhere. she watches nancy’s eyes widen from her peripheral and sees how nancy takes a minute to process the question.
“too loaded of a question.”
robin rolls her eyes. “like, is this not what everyone else wants?”
“i guess.” nancy says, flat and low. “my mom really likes him.”
robin sighs. nancy is still looking her in the eyes.
“nancy, what do you want?”
the words come out of robin’s mouth slow, almost painfully so. she says it in a way that’s so quiet that if anyone heard it besides nancy the world would crumble beneath her. the clicks of the words coming out of her mouth ring in her ears. what does she want? nancy’s mouth falls open but no words come out.
she doesn’t know. neither does robin.
“i want –” nancy starts; says.
the sentence could very well never be finished. robin doesn’t know if she wants to hear the end of it. she’s scared. robin wants everything. robin wants to scream so loud, and for so long, glass breaks. she wants to feel dirt in her teeth and gums. she wants to have her cake and eat it, too. she’s scared of what nancy could want.
she’s scared of what nancy already has.
“i want to be held,” nancy says. it is just as, if not more quiet than the question robin had just asked. “but i think more than anything i just want to go home.”
the world feels like it’s stopped turning. it’s not quiet, god, it’s far. robin’s mouth is propped open but no words come out. she’s staring a bullet hole into nancy’s eyes, and to robin’s surprise, nancy is returning the favor. she likes the moment, she wants to live in it forever. they could sleep in the bathtub and then wake up and stare at each other again for twelve hours straight until it’s time to get back into the bathtub.
“i can do that,” robin says. a chuckle leaves her lips but nancy doesn’t catch it. robin doesn’t know what part she just agreed to but to be fair, she’s down for anything.
instead, nancy falls full force into the pit of robin’s shoulder. her arms are loose, like the bone has disappeared. they tickle robin’s thighs and her hands feel like tall grasses in the wind between the fabrics of her pants.
“my ass hurts,” nancy says, laughing. “i feel like jello.”
robin assumes nancy has forgotten about everything she just said only moments before. she stands there, silent, and holds her for a moment too long. nancy’s hair is quite thin as it tickles robin’s bare shoulder, and the hands in her lap makes the heart in her chest beat faster and faster as the seconds pass.
to robin the world feels completely stuck in place. this house and the rest of planet earth exists in a separate vortex, and only this room is the difference. the little things, maybe. the air is different. the air her and nancy are breathing is different. the lightbulbs in this bathroom are the only pit-stained, dirty sunlight colored lightbulbs in existence. robin and nancy exist in between the crevice of space and time.
robin knows it won’t last forever. it won’t even last an hour. after this night ends and the fluids in nancy’s body thickens up to pure blood again, robin won’t see her ever again. or she will and nancy will remember absolutely nothing from the last forty minutes, but robin will cry into her pillows at night for the rest of her days knowing her massive little heart is tied to a princess who wears cashmere sweater vests and owns an almost horrifying amount mary-jane flats. nancy’s breathing might be heavy, but only god knows robin’s heart is heavier.
“nancy,” robin whispers, her breath unsteady. “are you ready to go home?” she asks.
“mm,” nancy replies. the sound echoes throughout robin’s skin, her skin prickling.
“yes? no?” robin says. her voice moves up and down, like she’s unsure. nancy picks up her head slowly and robin sees her face is red and sweaty, her eyes are closed.
“sure but,” nancy hiccups. robin sees she’s getting restless. hell, she’s scared nancy will blow chunks right in her lap. “i mean, my house isn’t like, ideal.”
“right.” robin says. her words are sharp as a knife.
“mom’s a bitch.”
“right, um,” robin completely blanks. her breath catches on the nerves in her throat as she thinks about what she had to do in her past life to be able to take nancy fucking wheeler home. holy fuck. she didn’t clean before she left. her house is probably a mess, her room even moreso.
“my house isn’t far,” robin says. fuck it.
really, fuck it.
“you can just crash there if you want.”
“are you sure?” nancy says. “‘cause it’s, i mean, if it’s too much for you i can just walk home. i’ll call steve.”
“it’s fine, really. you don’t seem very stable right now anyway.” robin says. “fuck, no offense.” she adds. she doesn’t even know why she said it, nancy won’t remember her last name in the morning.
robin slides away from nancy’s body and gets beside her, with one hand placed on the counter and the other placed firmly on her hip. nancy is looking at her with wide eyes, and robin’s hearing just got very fuzzy. nancy slowly slips off the counter and braces her hand on robin with a tight grip. every muscle in robin’s body tenses.
“you ready to go?” robin asks. she places both her hands on nancy; one on her shoulder and the other across her stomach. robin wonders if there are butterflies in nancy’s stomach the same as the one’s inside of her. maybe nancy’s are a different color. maybe it’s a different species. robin knows her bleed a vibrant maroon.
“yeah just, can you keep holdin’ me?” nancy says. robin continues.
she knows she’d do anything nancy asked. a moment passes where the glimmer in nancy’s glass eyes holds robin captive for what drags out as a lifetime in nancy’s mind. then – the shuffle of feet. scuff marks and fabric moving. robin’s hand is still on her stomach. nancy’s hand touches the door. the creak of the door breaks the vortex. there’s a song playing on the speaker that robin doesn’t recognize, and nancy puts her hands up to her ears and her neck scrunches up, uncomfortable.
robin, with a touch of adrenaline and a few splashes of anxiety-filled shaky bones, places the same grip on her shoulder to her hand, and squeezes. she slides herself in front of nancy, removing her hold from nancy’s stomach. the air feels thick and muggy, and too many people are moving for her eyes to focus on one thing. her heart is going to fall out of her ass and she might as well trip on it to really ruin the rest of her night.
“god it’s so fucking loud,” nancy yells. robin nods furiously to show nancy she knows what she said.
robin misses the bathroom. god, she really misses the bathroom. whenever her hand touches the front door knob she feels more relieved than ever. when the door finally opens the outdoors hits her like a brick. it’s cold, painfully so, and the night sky is a cool blue with little stars shining like gemstones. crickets chirp. when robin breathes it’s like a morning fog.
nancy slams the door behind her and rubs her arm’s with robin’s jacket. robin forgot she had it, and is very suddenly hit with the chill on her bare shoulders. she looks over at the side of the house and her stomach drops.
motherfucker. someone stole her bike.
“nancy i’m sorry,” robin starts, “someone stole my bike. fuck.”
nancy rolls her eyes and, to be fair, robin deserves that. it’s cold as fuck out. and nancy is a walking hazard.
“we’ll have to walk, i promise it’s not that far,” robin says. she scrunches her face as she estimates the time it takes to get there on foot.
“maybe like, ten minutes. probably less if we walk fast enough.” she says.
“good god,” nancy says. she’s laughing. robin’s heart sings.
“well let’s go,” nancy says.
she throws her arm over robin and picks up her feet. robin grabs the hand nancy flung over her shoulder and intertwines their fingers. the streetlights have moths flying around them. the sidewalk has cracks in it, robin scans the cracks and keeps a mental note of the numbers in her mind. nancy’s hand is warm on robin’s, and she’s grateful it’s too cold she can’t sweat. robin would be a pile of nerves on the floor if not for this weather.
“you ready?” nancy says. robin freezes, and realizes that as much as she fucking hates steve’s guts for upsetting nancy she also knows that he’d worry himself sick if she just disappeared into the night.
“i, um, forgot something in the house. sorry,” she says, almost entirely way too fast. “it’ll only be a minute, promise.” robin says.
nancy groans but loosens the grip from robin and let’s her enter the house again. robin feels nancy’s eyes on her as she walks up the porch steps, burning holes into her like fire. nancy yells something robin doesn’t hear.
the lights are still dim and robin doesn’t understand how these people still have so much energy when her feet are hurting so much. she sees steve across the living room, dancing mindlessly. he’s off beat, but that’s besides the point. before leaving her spot she rips a piece of paper from the three day old newsletter and grabs a pin from her back pocket and writes something down. she places the paper in her front pants pocket. robin darts over to him, scaring him. what a bitch, robin thinks.
robin freezes trying to think of something to say. how do you even word a conversation like this? she’s not an axe murderer, she just wants to make sure nancy’s head rests on a safe pillow tonight. who can blame her for wanting to play safety net?
“hi, harrington, i know you don’t know me but i guess now you do.” she says. is this weird? is she making this weird?
“to keep it short, because she’s freezing outside, i’m taking nancy home. she’s too drunk to drive, or walk, really, so she’s sleeping over with me. my name is robin, and on this little slip of paper is my landline so you can call me tomorrow morning but just know she’s quite cranky anytime your name leaves anyone’s mouth.”
robin shuts up and waits a beat for a response. steve opens his mouth and just sighs. he doesn’t even say anything.
“sound alright? you hear all that?” robin says, nodding. she waits for steve to do anything, even a thumbs up would satisfy her.
“alright,” steve starts, and robin takes that as her cue to jump.
“great, talk to you tomorrow!” she says, and runs out of the kitchen, bumping into many of her peers on the way out.
when she walks out of the door she sees nancy with her torso leaned up against the side of the house, eyes closed. her breathing isn’t as equalized as it’d be when she’s sleeping so she taps her gently and grabs her hand.
“you ready?” robin says, gentle.
“mhm,” nancy says.
and so they walk.