Work Text:
---Letter 1---
November 6th, 1982
Dear Nancy Wheeler,
I've been told that writing things down helps you get your feelings out. I don't know if that's true, but it can't hurt to try, right? You'll never ever read this as long as I can help it, but I can at least pretend. You don't know me, so I should introduce myself. I'm Robin, I'm in your English class. You sit two seats in front and three to the right of me, which would be three to the left and two down for you. Every day, you come into class five minutes before the bell rings, so I started to come in ten minutes before so I could see you walk in. Well, that is when I'm not late, but I do try I swear! You sit down at your desk, pull out your books and your pencil case...
And don't even look at me.
I don't blame you. I wouldn't look at me either. Even though my mother says I talk way too much, I never seem to draw much attention at school. That's okay, I kinda like it like that, but sometimes I wish certain people would see me. Like you. I just want you to look at me once. One time and I'll be forever satisfied. Okay, that's a lie. It'd probably only make it worse. Anyways, what I wanted to do by writing this letter is pretend like someday you'll read them. Maybe it'll finally get you out of my head.
From, Robin Buckley.
---Letter 2---
February 8th, 1982
Dear Nancy Wheeler,
It didn't work. Well, it did for a little bit, as you can see from the time jump in my letters, but when you came back from Christmas Break and started hanging out with Barb, you drew the attention back to yourself. How do you do that? You're like your own star, pulling people into orbit with your gravity as they pass by. You're not some huge star like Steve Harrington, who has his whole group of cronies all the time, you draw people in quietly. It's a passing glance, a fleeting smile, a small laugh. I don't think even you've noticed the way people look at you.
By the way, I don't mind you being friends with Barb. Sure, she doesn't hang out with me as much, but she's allowed to have other friends. I hope you two are having fun wherever you are when she tells me "I can't. Nancy and I are studying." I don't think you're really studying. You're far too smart to be studying as much as she wants me to believe. It's fine. Friends grow apart, right?
I don't know what it is about you that keeps me looking. You're really a mystery, Nancy. Sometimes, when I look at you, I can't tell at all what you're feeling. Most people show it on their face when they're angry or sad or happy, but you're harder to read. I've seen you smile in the hallways with Barb, but when you're alone you're quiet. What's going on in that head of yours?
From, Robin Buckley
---Letter 6---
May 24th, 1982
Dear Nancy Wheeler,
I think I finally figured it out. Well, figured it out and got up the courage to actually write it down. You're not going to like it though. But, to be fair, it was entirely your fault. It started last week when Mr. Hauser changed the seating arrangement last minute, which you know, and we ended up next to each other, which you also know. It felt almost surreal because I think it was first time you'd actually looked at me, and I felt my stomach go all weird, but more on that later. You probably won't remember this, but halfway through class I was drumming my pencil desk (sorry about that by the way. I couldn't tell you were annoyed until after) and it went flying onto the floor. Before I could get it, you grabbed it and said "Here," before passing it back. I know, I know, it doesn't seem like much, it's literally just a pencil, but the moment when I took it back I was so nervous and I didn't know why. That was until was reading one my books at home, you won't know it it's in French, and I realized that the girl was feeling for the guy exactly what I was feeling when you handed me that pencil.
I know. It sounds wrong. It is wrong. It's probably illegal. I'm really sorry. Good news though, you never have to find out! I should probably burn this letter or tear to shreds or something. If you're somehow reading this, I really hope I've skipped town.
From, Robin
---Letter 9---
October 12th , 1983
Dear Nancy,
Happy new school year! I was planning to write last month, but totally forgot. You're in my history class this year, Mrs. Click's, and you sit a few rows in front of me, next to Steve. God, I think I hate him Nancy. I can't even believe he's still in this class. Surely, he can't be that stupid as to fail history of all things. Not that history is super easy or boring anything! It just shouldn't be that difficult for him to scrape by a pass. Memorize a few dates. Talk about some white guys shooting each other in fields because they hate each other. Pretty simple. Yet, even in all his idiotic glory, he seems to still be the most eligible bachelor in the entire school. The way some girls look at him, you included. Yours is a bit different though. More calculating, like he's some advantage you need to get to win a game. I'm probably just reading too far into things.
I hate how he draws your attention though. He doesn't deserve it, doesn't deserve you, anyway. Did you know, before you come into class, he eats a bagel. Every morning like clockwork. The pig spills crumbs everywhere! It's disgusting! He might be a bigger star than you, Nancy, but you shine far brighter than he ever will. I wish I could get you to look at me like you look at him. Every night I want to come home and just tear my entire room, my entire life, apart. Do you know how hard that is? He doesn't even know you! He doesn't see the way you smile a little every time you get a question right, even though of course you were going to get it right, or the way you always freeze for a second or two when the lead in your pencil breaks, like you never expected it to do such a thing, or how the edges of your eyes crease when Barb gets you to laugh at something in the hallways on the way to class. He'll never see that. I'd bet money on it.
This is stupid. Why do I even write these anyway?
-Robin
---Letter 14---
November 14th, 1983
Dear Nancy,
They're all saying Barb ran away. Good. Maybe she got out of this hellhole. I know I keep implying I won't write again, but I need to get my thoughts out on paper.
The first day she didn't show up to school, when you were asking around, you looked scared. I wanted to say something to you, but what would I say? Hey, I've been watching you for years so I know something's up with you, you doing okay? You'd probably slap me or something. You haven't been around since then. I hope you didn't run off with her somehow. As much as I want for you to get out of here, I don't want you to go. It's selfish, but I think I'd drive myself insane.
I saw that sign Tommy. H and those assholes put up on the movie theatre. I'm so sorry. I hope you're okay. If it helps, I hope Steve trips and falls in a pit he can't get out of. Literally or metaphorically, I don't care.
From, Robin
---Letter 16---
November 14th, 1984
Dear Nancy,
If I'm being honest I forgot I had these letters. I found them under my bed last night. God, it's been a crazy year. Hell, it's been a crazy last couple of weeks. You and Harrington broke up, something about a party is circling around the rumor mill, but I try not to listen to it. There was also Barb's funeral. I went. I saw you. I miss her. You've looked so broken these past weeks, Nancy. I can see it in your eyes. I wish I could tell you that I understand, but I can't even bring myself to approach you. You need someone on your side, and I hope you find that someone.
From, Robin
---Letter 24 ---
July 1st, 1985
Dear, Nancy
I got a job at the new Starcourt Mall. With Steve. I don't even know what to say about his miserable attempts at flirting with anything remotely resembling a female that walks into our sailor themed hellscape (yes, he did accidentally flirt with a guy once and his ego is still bruised). If I'm being honest, he's odd. He lets this bundle of children, I think one's your brother, use our staff hallways to sneak into movies. It's almost sad that these seem to be his only friends anymore, mainly due to the massive dose of sense (not intelligence unfortunately) you've seemed to knock into him. Congratulations, you've done the impossible.
I haven't seen you around Starcourt at all. It's a bit of a relief since these stupid uniforms Steve and I are forced into are the most unflattering and uncomfortable pieces of shit I've ever worn, and I do not want you to see me with it on. Despite the fact I have zero chance at you due to you dating Jonathan Byers and not liking girls, I still want to look good, you know?
I hope your summer has been more entertaining than mine. I'm so bored I think my brain has been melting into a pile of mush inside my skull. I'm sure you're doing great things, but you should stop by Scoops sometime, see who can make a fool of themselves faster, Steve or your resident disaster stalker. We're all like moths to your flame, Wheeler, trapped in a doomed pursuit that ends only in death, or in our case, heartbreak. What's your secret to getting everyone to fall in love with you?
From, Robin
---Letter 25---
Dear Nancy,
I talked to you for the first time tonight. That's probably the easiest thing for me to focus on rather than getting captured and tortured by Russians in a a secret base under the mall, hitting Billy Hargrove with a car, and getting chased by a giant human flesh spider. How many times have you guys done this again? I have so many questions, mainly about your superpowered child, who seems to have lost her superpowers after she literally ripped part of that spider out of her leg. I'm sorry for the nervous rambling about soccer by the way.
I tried to wash Steve's blood off my hands. It didn't work very well. I think some might have gotten on this paper. I hope you don't mind.
How did you stand in front of that car and stare him down? Billy was driving that car full speed at you, and you didn't even move. You just shot him with a gun you literally stole off of a Russian until we slammed into him. You could have died, Nancy, but... it was the hottest thing I've ever seen. I'm sorry if that makes me a creepy weirdo, but I think I'm still coming off of that truth serum shit. After it was all over, Steve drove me home. He's actually a really good guy now. I never imagined coming out to Steve Harrington of all people on the floor of the mall bathroom while he professed his love to me. What a day of firsts, huh?
I wonder if everything is about to change.
From, Robin
---Letter 30---
March 20th, 1986
Nancy,
I don't think I've ever told you this, but your articles are really good. I've got clippings of them in my other secret bedroom box that definitely makes me look even more like a stalker than I already do. Sorry about that. Anyways, I know from passing conversation that you run that journalism club like the navy, and good for you. We need a little more structure and discipline in our school. Maybe if we get you on the job, you can finally get the drummers to actually march in a straight line. Seriously, you'd think they were drunk or something.
There's this girl in band, her name is Vickie, and Steve's been pushing me to try and ask her out. Obviously, it's a terrible idea in and of itself, but I also haven't exactly gotten around to telling him about these letters. Or the fact that I might be in lov have a crush on you. Honestly, thank every god that may or may not exist that he's oblivious to way I catch myself looking at you when you bring Mike into Family Video to grab a rental. I love him, but sometimes he can miss those things, like how I miss social cues. Honestly, thank you for never approaching me when it's time to check out because despite me desperately hoping you'll talk to me again, I'd probably start talking and then never stop. It would be bad. Sometimes I feel like the wind, blowing all over the place, but you're steady, like a resolute stone that can't be moved. I've got a feeling you're stubborn like that too.
Question. How old do you think Eddie Munson is? Genuinely. How many times has he failed senior year? Three? Four? Is there someone who keeps track? I admire his complete confidence and staggering audacity, but he's kind of crazy if I'm being honest. If he keeps making himself the town pariah, maybe there's nothing I have to worry about.
Robin
---Letter 32---
Nancy,
Jesus. Am I allowed to say that? Will he send me to hell to how close I was to kissing you today? Nance, you do not understand the amount of pure willpower and fear that kept me in that seat when you looked at me like that. You can't be allowed to do this to me! Can you get heat stroke from blushing so hard your face feels like someone set it on fire and threw it into an active volcano? When I just pulled out a light joke, just to ease the tension, I did not expect for you to lay that look upon me. Or stand that close. Honestly, this isn't very fair.
Did you honestly think Steve and I were together? I know we're close, but I didn't think we gave off that image. You were really frustrated at me, and honestly it was kind of scary.
I'm worried about Mayfield, obviously. I mean, who wouldn't when there's some psycho, interdimensional, dark wizard serial killer after her. Anyways, I've got to go. Tomorrow you and I have some credentials to fake, and a mental hospital to break into. You're one crazy force to be reckoned with, you know? Like the winds of a hurricane, blowing through my life and tearing everything up before putting it back miles from where you found it. I don't know what to feel, but it certainly doesn't feel bad.
Robin
---Letter 35---
Nance,
I can't believe that son of a bitch didn't die. You shot him, like a total badass by the way, and he's still somehow alive and kicking. Plus the bastard won. He got Max. How she is she even alive? Is she even alive? I don't know if that coma counts.
I was so scared, Nancy. I was more scared this week than I was under Starcourt. I was scared of losing you, of losing everyone else. When Vecna had you, and we were trying to find music, I don't think I've ever felt more panicked before in my life. I seriously thought we'd lose you. You'd never (hypothetically) get the chance to read a single letter from me. You'd never (once again, hypothetically) get to hear me tell you how much I love that determined look you get, or how good you look with a shotgun in your hands. I'd ask you to teach me, but I'd probably end up shooting off my own foot.
You're like the sun, Nance. I know I've compared you to a star before, but you just keep adding more fuel to my fire of words. You're bright, live-giving, but you also hold so much danger. If I get too close, will I burn up in your flames? Would it be worth it?
Robin
---Letter 46---
Nancy,
I can't say this to your face, so I have to say it here.
You stupid, stubborn, prideful, dumbass. You could have died, Nancy Wheeler! Do you have no sense of self-preservation? Do you actually have a death wish? You're so focused on your investigation that you don't even consider your own safety? I don't care if you don't want to mess up my life, you being alive if more important than that! Joey died, Nance. Georgia died. I will leave my job for you. I will travel to the goddamn ends of the earth to help you find what you're looking for. Just stop trying to get yourself hurt! I want to throw my police scanner out the window, smash it to pieces, but it's you that is the biggest reason I still have it. You, who seems to always find your way into trouble. I have nightmares about just waking up and hearing that you, or anybody I love, died while I was sleeping you know. I listen to that horrible devices for hours and hours.
You just walked from me. You stubborn ass. You can't admit it when you're wrong, so you double down. When someone makes an ultimatum, you don't try to win them back. You give them up. You push them away. You're like fighting the sea. Somedays you're calm, and other I'm fighting currents so strong and so dizzying that the water's closing over my head. I can't breathe, and I can't deal with this.
Robin
---Letter 50---
February 14th, 1987
Nancy,
I counted out all the letters I've written since freshman year. This is the fiftieth. Happy Anniversary? No. That isn't how anniversaries work. I haven't even dated half of these letters looking back. I can remember writing all of them though. It's been worth it to see myself, and you, grow like two trees in a forest, connected but distant. We're close, yes, but I'm afraid my branches will never grow far enough to reach yours. I'll always just be in the shade of the canopy, while you build it from the ground up.
A bit poetic of me to write this one on Valentine's Day. I swear, it wasn't planned. I don't know what you're doing today. I'd say you're out with Jonathan, but you haven't been out with Jonathan in forever so I don't really know. I'm sorry about him and Steve's whole macho-competition. If anything, Steve's doing it for Jonathan's attention more than yours. He found out about the letters around Letter #40. Little snoop was looking my stuff. He was... actually kind of chill about it.
Anyways, I've not nothing planned. I'll probably just sit around, running my little radio show and hiding the letters here since Steve keeps finding them at my house. I think I've found a pretty good spot for them. It's a bit higher risk since you're here all the time, but who doesn't like living life dangerously?
Yours, Robin
-----
Nancy sat still on the floor of the Squawk's basement, letters scattered before her. She'd come down here while Robin was still in the booth, not wanting to interrupt, and was going to finalize some plans and finish unpacking some boxes. When she'd moved the box with the projector in it though, her eye had caught a loose brick on the wall. Curious, she'd tugged at it and it gave way, revealing a satin green box hidden behind it. Feeling the excitement of a good mystery, she'd carefully removed the box and returned the brick to it's place. Then sitting down exactly where she'd been standing, she'd opened it.
Inside had been a stack of folded papers. Some were relatively new looking, crisp paper on the top of the pile. The bottom of the pile was more crinkled, some a bit yellow with stains, and looked older. She opened the one on the bottom first.
November 6th, 1982
Dear Nancy Wheeler,
It was a shock to see her own name written in scribbly font. Even further of a surprise was Robin's name claiming the letters. None of them were very lengthy, just short bursts of Robin's thoughts on certain days, some weren't even dated, but all were addressed to and centered around her. She didn't go through all of them, she couldn't possibly, but she went through enough to gain all of the messaging she needed.
Yours, Robin
Something burned in her chest, something that had been burning for quite some while, but had been repeatedly pushed away. Seeing the proof in the letters, the devotion and the care, Nancy didn't know whether she wanted to laugh or cry. She could finally let herself believe she had a chance.
"Is someone down here?"
Suddenly Robin appeared, coming down the steps at high speed before Nancy could even react. Her eyes landed on the scattered pages on the floor, then to Nancy, and her pace paled. She took a step back.
"H-how did you..."
"Robin—"
"I-I'm so sorry. I should have burned those."
"Robin, wait!" The taller girl raced back up the stairs and Nancy scrambled to her feet to give chase. Robin had the advantage of longer legs and a head-start, as she'd already burst outside into the cold rain before Nancy had even reached the door.
"Robin! What are you doing?!" She shouted over the wind. "You can't ride home in this weather!" Nancy threw herself into the storm, racing to stop Robin before she could leave. She grabbed onto the front of Robin's bike just as she hopped on.
"Nancy, let go," Robin's voice trembled.
"No! Listen to me!" Nancy shouted. Thunder crackled. "Come back inside right now! I'm not letting you ride home in this rain."
"I said let go!" Robin yanked her bike out of Nancy's hands and took off down the road at break-neck speeds. Nancy's first thought was to follow her in the car, but knew it'd be a bad idea in the long run. Damn it! How could she fix this? Nancy went back inside, wracking her brain for something to do. Suddenly, it came to her. She ran for the extra towels they kept lying around and dried herself off as well as she could before grabbing a piece of paper.
------
Robin hit her bed with tears in her eyes, shivering from the cold rain. She should have never moved the hiding place. It was so stupid to bring the box to the radio station when everyone was there all of the time. Of course someone would find it! She was such an idiot.
She changed out of her wet clothes into something drier before curling up into her bed. She must have fallen asleep because she woke up two hours later to a knock. It was her mother.
"Nancy stopped by! She asked me to give this to you." Her mother handed her a sealed envelope before disappearing back into the depths of their house.
What was in there? A declaration of hatred? A threat to never talk to Nancy again? Her curiosity beat out her fear as she tore open the envelope. Inside was a single sheets of paper.
------
Dear Robin,
I'm so sorry that I went through your stuff. I wanted to start with that. It was a complete invasion of your privacy and I'm so so sorry. I would do it again though, just to read those letters once in my lifetime.
The truth is, I've been confused. I've been confused for a couple of weeks now. What you don't know is that I broke up with Jonathan, a month or so ago. It wasn't working the way a good relationship should. We love each other, but just not like that anymore. He asked me, when it happened, if it was to make room to love another person. I told him that I don't love Steve like that, but I didn't say no.
Your letters explained a lot of things, not just about you, but about me too. I could never hate you, Robin. You're the light to my darkness. You're the one that holds me back, in a good way that keeps me from doing something stupid. You're the good cop in our investigative duo, who keeps me from scaring off the witnesses. You're my first call, and you're going to be my first call over and over again until you don't pick up the phone anymore, but I know won't. You're the one who pulls in people with a gravity you don't even know you have, didn't even consider you could have.
I don't think I fully realized it, but I started falling that day in the library. It was subtle, so I couldn't see it. I thought I hated the fact that I thought you and Steve were a thing because of Steve, but I think I was actually jealous of the idea that he had you. So, I lashed out. I didn't get it. Then, I started to get to know you better, and you just kept giving me more reasons.
Robin, I love the way you talk when you get excited. I love the way you can sing the lyrics to any song you've heard a lot, even if it's been years. I love the way you can remember the details of every movie you've ever watched, and pay attention to the ones nobody else does. I love the way the kids look up to you, like they also see just how amazing you are. I love your ridiculous friendship with Steve, and how you two can't ever get a job apart. I love the way you face lights up when somebody walks in the room. I love that you can speak so many languages. I love that you actually listen to and value people's opinions and what they have to say. I love the way your laugh fills up a space. I love the way your hand are just barely bigger than mine, and you'll never let me forget. I love your blind trust in the absurd and crazy. I love the way you're loyal beyond measure. I love the color of your eyes when the sunlight hits them just right.
What I love most of all is that you see me. You see me as who I am, with all my faults and flaws, and you don't care. You adapt to them. You love me anyways.
I love you, Robin.
Yours, Nancy
------
Nancy waited. In the car outside Robin's house. She wrung her fingers as she started nervously at the door, waiting for the possibility of Robin. This was stupid. Maybe she should just—
The door banged open as Robin rushed once again into the rain, pausing on her front steps to see Nancy's car waiting on the side of the road. In seconds Nancy had thrown herself once again into the rain as Robin ran down the water-soaked driveway and met her at the edge of the road. The cold seeped into bones for the second time that day.
"I take it this means you read my letter?"
"Nance, can I just kiss—" Nancy had pulled her down before she could even finish speaking.
It's always described as fireworks. Not this. This was a pure, burning flame that tore through her, fighting off the pounding rain as her fingers tangled in Robin's hair. They both were shaking and shivering, different reasons for each as they let themselves have something that was denied for years.
"Aren't you worried someone's going to see us?" Robin breathed against her lips.
"No," Nancy whispered. "I have better things to worry about."
"Like what?"
"How much convincing it'll take to do that again." Robin laughed.
"No need to worry. I've got the answer right here."