#best friend Nancy wheeler

[gaysforbyler]

This means either platonic mlvn or romantic bancy. One of the Wheeler siblings is gay for sure

[withapurplestripe]

wayne never trusted the suburbanites of hawkins. he’d been fine with them before, but once eddie started living with him, and he heard the way their kids spoke to his, he quickly turned his back.

when eddie came home crying because some girl called him a freak, or hid his bruised wrist behind his back and insisted he’d fallen over, he would say, some kids just follow their fathers, ed, there ain’t nothing you can do or not do about it. just count your lucky stars you’re smarter than them. it was a small comfort but the best he could do without his voice cracking.

so when nancy wheeler, robin buckley, steve harrington started showing up, packed into a beemer the boy had been bought at sixteen as a ‘starter car’, he had been nervous. buckley was okay, she wasn’t so prim and proper, and he’d heard enough stories about wheeler’s gun storage from eddie to see through any facade of manners. but harrington.

harrington was different. he stared at eddie whenever he laughed loud, or changed his voice, or gesticulated wildly. he smirked softly to himself when eddie referenced dnd.

he was the embodiment of hawkins.

when the four of them tumbled through the door together, laughing and nudging each other in a scramble for the sofa, wayne stood from his chair and left. he couldn’t bear to see his boy mocked all night by someone pretending to be a friend.

(what he didn’t notice was the way steve soaked up the sounds of eddie’s laugh, trying to work out how to be the one to cause it; or how proud he felt when dustin’s reluctant tutoring paid off and he could understand a nerdy comment.

steve harrington was in fact the antithesis of hawkins.

because he loved eddie munson.)

[italiansteebie]

steve is like... really good at laser tag.

it was supposed to be a fun double date that wasn't really a date because the kids were all with them too, but steve. he really took it seriously.

it was a wonder he was such a bad fighter, based on this, maybe they should give him a gun? no...

robin, nancy, and eddie watched in curious amazement as steve bobbed and weaved through the dark course. (eddie's not proud to admit that he may have drooled watching steve hop over one of the foam obstacles). "agh! steve, no!" they heard dustin whine in the distance, smiling when steve only cackles in response.

"oh! fuck you steve!" there was mike, "cmon man, i thought we were friends!" lucas, "you're really just gonna stand there and shoot me? im not even playing!" and max.

it was definitely comedic, and a little scary.

they heard his footsteps, "oh shit. he's coming, run!" robin squealed, grabbing nancy's hand and dragging her after her. eddie kept his place in the corner, it was fun but he wasn't really into all that... running or "exercise."

soon enough he was face to face with steve. "hey baby,"

"hey ed's."

"rob and nancy ran that way," eddie said pointing towards their direction. steve grinned, "thanks ed's." he said pressing a kiss to his lips before running away.

distantly, eddie heard nancy and robin shout, and he shook his head. soon enough the lights came back on and the game was over.

now steve wasn't a competitive person, however, he knows when he's good at something, so it wasn't a surprise to eddie when they all trailed out of the arena, a huge smile on steve's face.

the bored employee started, feigning excitement, "okay! the winner is steve ahoy, congratulations steve. yay." steve whooped, doing a stupid little dance, smacking a celebratory kiss on eddie's face, laughing at the kids disdain.

"that's not fair! steve didn't tell us he was super good at laser tag!"

"ha ha!" steve teased, smiling when eddie grabbed his hand. "don't worry, next time he's not allowed to play. only normal people." robin assured, smirking at steve. "oh, so you're not playing either?" he retorted. robin scoffed and rolled her eyes. "what ever laser rambo."

[jonathanbyersphd]

Something so "they had a fight" "then why are they still holding hands" "they get sad when they fight" about this image.

[artiststarme]

From Alibi to Reality

A little something different, I hope you guys like it! Title brought to you by @nburkhardt. Please leave your thoughts in the comments!

~*~*~*~

Steve knew he was going to act as Eddie’s beard for the cops and the town. That was a no-brainer, it was the only way to clear Eddie’s name. He discussed it with Hopper, the kids, and Robin. Everyone determined that the shock factor of Steve “The Hair” Harrington dating the town freak was the only thing that was going to change Powell’s mind and make him drop the charges. The thing no one could agree on was how to broach the subject. 

Dustin thought that telling the police directly would be the best way, Robin thought they should build up to the declaration, and Nancy thought it was a stupid idea because no one would believe that lady-killer Steve Harrington was into a guy (little did she know). Regardless, all of his friends thought talking was the best course to take. 

But Steve was a man of action, not words. All of the Party’s plans involved discussing their “relationship” like civilized adults. The problem was though, they weren’t talking to civilized adults. They were talking to his brother, a known dumbass, and the new Chief of Police that wanted to hunt down a bunch of kids because Jason fucking Carver told him to. 

So he was going to handle this the way he handled every shitty situation thrown his way. He was going to wing it. It had worked for him thus far and it hadn’t failed him yet. So, for the rest of the Party’s meeting, Steve zoned out. He thought about how fucked he was going to be when his parents found out about this, how much shit he’d have to take from the rest of the town, and how ostracised he’d be. But it was the only way to clear Eddie’s name. 

Eddie had jumped into the lake after him and saved his life before protecting Dustin from demobats. He was a part of the Party now and Steve would do anything to protect the Party. So, he was fine with ruining his reputation and probably being disowned by his parents for  tainting the Harrington name. As long as Eddie was okay in the end, nothing else mattered. 

~*~*~*~

They neglected to tell Eddie the plan. He hadn’t seen any of the Party members since the police realized he was being treated at the hospital and barred anyone from seeing him until they questioned him. He was just minding his own business, ignoring the two doofus cops trying to question him, and looking forward to whatever the Party came up with to clear his name. Eddie wasn’t sure if whatever their plan was was going to work or even if they meant what they’d said. However, he had hope. Mostly because the only other option would be joining his dad in a cell for murders he didn’t even commit. 

That’s when it happened. Steve stormed into his hospital room with a flourish, slamming the door against the wall and scaring the two cops. 

Eddie watched as the tall one’s eyes narrowed, “Steve, you better have a good explanation for this one-“

He didn’t pay attention to what else was said. One minute, he was looking at an angry Harrington walking into his room and the next, said Harrington was kissing him. On the lips! 

Mother of fuck, Eddie had died and gone to heaven because all of his dreams were coming true. He didn’t know what Steve was playing at but Eddie wasn’t complaining. He just slipped his eyes closed and kissed him back with equal fervor.

He was pulled from their passionate kissing by a loud, “Son of a bitch, Steve! The murderer?! What the fuck? I thought your taste was bad when you were dating the priss but now this? Jesus Fuck, bro!”

“Officer Callahan, please maintain your composure.”

“My composure?!” His voice was shrill as he shrieked in his own defense. “Powell, my brother is macking on fucking Munson! What the fuck? How am I supposed to maintain my composure?!”

Eddie pulled away from Steve, “your brother is Officer Callahan?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did that not come up when you were defiling my baby brother?!” Callahan yelled at him, waving his hands in the air maniacally. 

“No, actually. It didn’t,” Eddie told him. 

Callahan let out a sound of frustration before pointing at Steve, letting out another frustrated noise, and stalking out. Steve and Eddie turned to Powell who just looked tired. 

“I assume this is why you wouldn’t tell us your alibi for the night of the murder, Munson?” He sighed. 

“That’s right, there was no way in hell I was going to out my boyfriend. Apparently he does it himself though,” Eddie gave Steve the side eye. Why had he chosen to do this? He’d known the guy for like two weeks and he was just throwing his life away to protect Eddie. What the hell?

Powell turned to Steve, “is that true? Mr. Munson was with you the night that Chrissy Cunningham was murdered?”

“That’s right. We were watching The Rocky Horror Picture Show and Alien before going to bed. He stayed the whole night laying in bed next to me, there’s no way he could’ve murdered anybody,” Steve nodded. 

Powell just shook his head at them, “fine, Munson. I’m clearing you but don’t leave town.” 

“I won’t sir, thank you for doing your due diligence. It was at my expense but still, thanks,” Eddie said sarcastically. 

He shot them one last disbelieving look before following his partner. Then all that was left was Eddie and Steve. 

Eddie whipped his head around to Steve. “Now what the hell was that?!”

“Hey! Don’t talk to your boyfriend that way!”

“Seriously Steve-”

“Eddie, I swear to god if you don’t kiss me again in the next twenty seconds, I’ll go get Powell and tell him I changed my mind,” Steve threatened him with narrowed eyes. 

How was Eddie supposed to refuse him after that?

My Permanent Tag List: @doubleb11 @nburkhardt @zerokrox-blog @newtstabber @i-less-than-three-you @straight4joekeery @carlyv @pyrohonk @ksherlock15 @conversesweetheart @estrellami-1 @suddenlyinlove @yikes-a-bee @swimmingbirdrunningrock @perseus-notjackson @anaibis @merricatty @maya-custodios-dionach @grtwdsmwhr @manda-panda-monium @lumoschildextra @goodolefashionedloverboi @mentallyundone @awkwardgravity1 @anzelsilver @devondespresso @gregre369 @mysticcrownshipper @disasterlia @lillys-weird-world @messrs-weasley @pnk-lemonades @orangesunsets12 @awkotaco24

@strangerthingfanfic @dangdirtydemons @bookworm0690 @hannahhook7744 @dreamlandforever @marsbars97 @precursorandthedragon @romanticdestruction @5ammi90 @death-thee-nervousqueer @panicatthediaz @justforthedead89 @futuristicnachostranger @breadboi66

[sapphicstoria]

Seeing Nancy’s hand right on top of Jonathan’s is giving me such a buzz…. Oh, they’re still so close and in love. 😵‍💫😵‍💫

[leslie057]

stranger things 4 is just like yess lets give nancy wheeler some friends. and then her friends mistreat her for nine episodes straight <3

[figthefruitfaeth]

season 2 stancy and the trauma leading up to the breakup haunts me cause like--they are two sides of the same fucking coin. 

barb dies. there’s no warning, nothing smart, good girl nancy could’ve done. she just dies, and there’s no way to prove it, no body to show, no car, no adult who will listen. she died because nancy didn’t go home on a school night, because nancy had a beer and had barb try one too, because she jumped in the pool and slept with her boyfriend. barb died because nancy took the night off. nancy--standing in the early morning light in her boyfriend’s hoodie, looking around for her best friend and knowing deep in her bones something is wrong--dies that day too.

a girl dies in his pool. barb, nancy’s friend. he didn’t know her except through nancy, wouldn’t have been able to pick her out of a lineup and now she’ll always be in his house, he’ll always see some outline of her sitting there from his bedroom window--an outline too hazy to pick out detail and too solid to deny because king steve didn’t hang out with her crowd but new okay human being steve can’t ignore her either. barb died because he wasn’t a good person, because he cared, but not enough. steve--byers’ bruises along his temple and nail bat in his hand--dies that day too.

so nancy grows up too quick too fast, learns that anything good has to be hard to get or it’s bullshit, doesn’t make new friends doesn’t get tied down to more than what’s leftover--steve, who ties himself to everything, who embeds himself in the role of loving, caring boyfriend and babysitter and the fun high school senior, cause what else does he have?

and they love each other, they do, but they can’t see each other. steve--eyes shut tight, hoping if he doesn’t look maybe he can blip right over it, maybe they can both still be stupid teenagers who love each other, and nancy--looking straight ahead, still looking for barb because she never found a body and only ever seeing the stupid, naive nancy in her stupid, jerk boyfriend’s hoodie. and they can’t see each other, and more than that, even if could, they wouldn’t, they won’t. they won’t.

they’re both stuck in the same burning house, but where one of them is trying to run out, popping back in another door every time she gets just far enough, the other is running in turning the locks and shutting the windows tight. and it’s still burning. it’s still burning.

barb dies in the pool and nobody lives.

[unamused-boss]

California Dreaming pt3

Billy Hargrove x Reader

Last part! Warning: Kinda short, but I still hope you love it!

Summary: Max and Billy could only agree on one thing in common.... and that was you. You were their neighbor when the lived in California and Billy had the biggest crush on you. Plus it helped that you babysat, more like hangout with, Max. You were his California dream. And sometimes dreams come true.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You couldn't stand the time you had away from Billy. Your best friend and boyfriend were gone all in one on the same day. You've been writing to Billy which is a plus. Turns out he joined the basketball team. He's been to every party thrown in town, but he says they're all a bust. Met a guy named Munson that gets him weed, but Billy quotes "It's nothing like the shit in Cali...". You can't help but laugh at his sarcastic tones through the letters.

You know he misses it here. He tells you in every letter the love that he holds for you, that nothing will change. He admitted to going on some dates with girl to get you off his mind. He felt guilty, he wanted your forgiveness even though you told him to try an move on to at least have fun. Billy said ,once again, in his letter that he wants no one else but you. Your eyes were something he missed most of all. He said that you had a light in them that he felt only he saw. You always giggled when it came to the gushy stuff in his letters. Billy was a flirt with girls but he was a romantic with you.

Since graduating high school early you've had a lot of time on your hands. You were still gonna walk at graduation, you just weren't going to do anything else. Cause by god you are getting that dumb piece of paper in front of everyone. It was a couple of days before the week up spring break but for you it was a regular working Wednesday. You currently work at some clothing store in the mall and oh so excitedly deal with mother's trying to get some sort of deal out of you.

The time was 5:00pm you are now pulling into your driveway of your house for the night. Happy that your got off early you notice your parents aren't home yet. You make your way down to the mailbox to check for anything. Which you find a bunch of letters piled onto one another. You begin to sift through it.

"Bill, Bill, Coupon, post card from Aunt Shelly, Bill...y." You stop at, what you thought was another bill but was actually, a letter from Billy. You rush up to your front door to be able to read the letter. Throwing everything onto the kitchen table an make your way to your room. You bounce on your bed at tear open the letter...

Hello Y/N, I hope you are happy with what you're doing. I just read your letter. God I wish I could graduate early to get this shit hole. Anyways, Max is doing good. She still with those little balls of snot for friends. Hopefully you wrote her, so she can stop asking me to check the mail for your letters. I miss you very much. Spring break is about to start, since the public pool opened I got a job there. Hopefully I can get enough money to be able to come an see you and to stay with you. You probably already know me, I'm not really good at this writing shit. But if it's for you, I'll do it. I love you, -Billy

You smiled down at the words on the paper.

"I love you too." You said down to the paper. That feeling came back again. The feeling of wanting to see him. You can't help it, you miss him so much. You go over to your landline in the kitchen to lunch in a number you have memorized by heart now.

"Santa Monica airport, what can I help you with today?" The droned out employee said.

"Hey, I wanna know if you have any direct flights to Hawkins Indiana?"

"Hold on, let me check..." You hear a faint typing for a few seconds.

"Anything?" You question.

"None to Hawkins but we have one to Indianapolis flying out this Friday at 5:00am." They said.

"Perfect!" You shouted. "How much?"

"That will be a hundred an thirty dollars..."

"I've got that!" You race around to your purse to fish out your debit card to pay for the ticket. You give them the info to send the ticket via email for you to print out. It would be thirty more dollar but you didn't care.

"Alright, thank you choosing Santa Monica airlines tod-." You didn't even let them finish. You hung up the phone right away to go pack an call off work for the next week or so. You couldn't stop giggling the whole time. Seeing Billy and Max is going to be the best thing to happen to you in the past few months. Then you hear your front door open and shut. Then you realized something...

"Hey mom, I gotta tell you something!" You shouted running out of your room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were honestly shitting your pants the whole way to Hawkins from Santa Monica. You currently stand outside of Hawkins High School waiting for Billy. You slept during your flight over at 5 am but once you were on the ground you couldn't hold still. Your stuff is at the motel just outside of town for the next week.

You passionately waited for Billy to walk out of the school. You could see his car from a mile away. Plus with is reputation it wasn't hard to find out about him. You turned your wrist to look at your watch, 3:15 it read. the bell rang and school was out for spring break. Students passed by you, giving you weird looks.

"Who is that?" "Does Billy know them?" "Probably a desperate Ex." Were some of the things that were thrown around you. As if you couldn't hear the. 'Geez do these people know how to shut up...'

"Billy. Who's that?" An oddly pitchy voice said breaking you out of your thoughts.

Billy ripped his head around to you. You being the last person he would see by his car. The girl he, once had his arm around, was with was now forgotten. Billy thought he was gonna vomit at the sight of you.

"Shit.." You mutter.

"Holy fuck..." He said.

"Billy who is this?" The girl said once again getting annoyed. Billy turned back to her.

"Why are you still here?" He questioned. The girl now looked perplexed. She thought Billy was gonna take her out but now he wants nothing to do with her. Before she could say anything Billy spoke, "Go the hell away. Ya stupid cow..." He muttered the last part.

Billy walked up to you, star struck. He now had you trapped between him and the car with his hands on your hips. Holding you gently. You were smiling up at him.

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

"I wanted to see you." you said. "Is that so bad?" You teased him. When you both could call one another you would constantly tease him over the phone.

"No!" He answered quickly. "It's actually great, cause I was loosing my damn mind being away from you." You giggled at him. He his lips down to your temple, kissing you gently. To the students around you it was shocking to see Billy Hargrove be gentle with anybody. But to you this was your Billy.

"Y/N!!" A familiar voice shouted out to you. You turned to her direction to see Max running full speed to you. You part from Billy momentarily to hug Max.

"Hey MadMax!" You exclaimed. Even though Billy thought Max was a pain in the ass most of the time; he loved seeing you two together. He was happy that she got to see you.

"How long are you here for?" She questioned.

"I'm here for all of spring break." You smiled. They both looked at you dumb founded. You were gonna be with them for a week.

"Yes!" Billy said excitedly, pulling you into a hug. You laughed as he squeezed you.

"How about we go on a date tonight?" You asked him.

"Hell yeah!" He shouted. Crashing his lips onto yours. Desperation and love pouring into the moment. He missed your lips. How soft they were and smooth. He missed you so much.

"ew..." It was faint but you both knew it was from Max.

"Get in the car shit bird." Billy said.

"Hey be nice." You sternly said, mighty sapping his arm. He huffed at you, looking at you with soft eyes. The eye you fell in love with.

"Let's take Max home and we can go on our , much needed, date."

"You took the words right out of my mouth." Billy smiled.And that's how it went for the next week. You spent your time with Billy and Max, well more so Billy. Billy held you so close not wanting to let you go when you both cuddled. You met Max's friends and some more people around Hawkins with your small time there. You had some sleepovers with Max, trying to make up for lost time. Neil wouldn't do anything while you where here in town, so that meant a safe environment for Max and Billy even though it was for a week. You found the town cute, but you prefer Santa Monica.

Most of all, you and Billy got time alone. To be with each other in each others arms. Going on cute dates, walks, drives, everything. You became the envy of the town. The one that swooped Billy Hargrove off hid feet the spring break of 85'. He wouldn't have it any other way though. He would stay in this shithole town if it meant being with you.

When it came time for you to go home, it was full of tears and heart felt kisses. You didn't want to leave them again but you had to.

"Once I graduate I'll be back, I promise." You said.

When it came time for you to go home, it was full of tears and heart felt kisses. You didn't want to leave them again but you had to. 

"Once I graduate I'll be back, I promise." You said.

That promise was made two months ago. In those two months you also visited Billy three more times over the summer. In your last visit you brought him back home with you. To California. You got him far away from his pain. 

You both have an apartment near the beach, like you both wanted. You stared college; while Billy started work at a car restoration shop. Billy could surf everyday while you laid in the sun. You both loved each other even more with every day that passed.

A California dream come true.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I know its a cheesy ending but I hope you like it.

@capitanostella

@maackiimoo

@mystargirl-interlude

[gaysforbyler]

“Stancy is Mlvn and Jancy is Byler” WRONG Bancy is Byler.

They were childhood best friends. Barb was super supportive of Nancy’s new relationship, third wheeled at a party, got secretly jealous when Nancy abandoned her for alone time with Steve, and called Nancy’s name when stuck in the UD.

Bancy is Byler’s unhappy ending

[vesselforsatin]

Eddie thinks that Nancy and Steve are getting back together. He sees their heads pressed together and laughing while smiling at each other. Wayne comes home to find Eddie laying on the floor and blasting “Jolene” on repeat. He goes about his business while his nephew sings the lyrics into the rug in between mumbled curses at the concept of love.

Turns out Steve and Nancy are not getting back together. They were actually bonding how hot they think Sigourney Weaver is and giggling about how she reminds them of their respective crushes. Eddie finds this out after Wayne calls Nancy to come talk some sense into him after the fourteenth repeat of “I Will Always Love You.”

[upiri-entita]

I've been thinking, steves and nancys relationship in season 2 of stranger things and adult shaunas and jeffs relationship in yellowjackets are same relationship, aren't they?

[persuaison]

Hot take, Nancy Wheeler needs a best friend not another love interest.

[fastcardotmp3]

Nancy & Eddie; Nancy & Wayne; 1.4k; post-S1; the melancholy of Christmas; grief/mourning

That night, after Steve goes home and the leftovers are put away and the voices from Mike's walkie talkie murmur through the walls, Nancy creeps past the gleaming tree in the living room and out the front door.

The dark of the sky is gray with the potential for overnight snow and her layers of shirt and sweatshirt and coat and scarf and gloves keep the cold from permeating too quickly, but her cheeks pink over before she reaches the end of the cul-de-sac, let alone her destination.

She shouldn't be out this late. Her mother would hate it if she weren't wine drunk and sleepy enough not to notice, and there's not a good place for Nancy to do what she needs to do, but it's also not an optional thing.

It's not, to her.

There's no grave to visit at the cemetery, because Barb isn't dead to anyone else the way she is to Nancy, but she goes there anyway. Has been. Will continue to.

She's making do, in this and in so many other ways, and so she tries not to feel the utter not enough-ness of the little stack of stones she's built in a lopsided pyramid under a big oak tree with far-stretching branches right at the highest point of the cemetery.

She tries not to think about how she can't add Barb's name to this sham of a grave, can't even call it that when Barb's body is trapped somewhere she can never reach and thus can't bring home either.

Nancy just lowers herself to the cold, hard earth and goes about straightening the pile again, as she always does. She uses them as a barrier this time, a little fenced-in square to hold up the poinsettias she'd stolen from the centerpiece that had sat in the center of their Christmas dinner.

Her hands tremble. She lets them.

Her swallow grows thick. She lets it.

Her tears do not fall. They stay caught in her gut where the rest of her guilt resides, the rest of all her worthless searching, the rest of the hope she never got to mourn for fear of seeming ungrateful for the return of her brother's best friend.

Nancy sits here in front of her makeshift memorial and she does not cry, because there are no tears, and she does not speak, because there are no words, but her heart screams loud enough to shake the town apart.

Her soul wails and laments and begs. She lets it.

She lets it be loud enough that she doesn't hear the footsteps coming up behind her until there's the quiet clear of a throat and question of--

"Hate to bother you, kiddo, but can I bother you a moment?"

Nancy startles, both at the gentle gruffness of the self-contradictory question and the realization that her face is damp with the silent remnants of tears she cannot feel past the numbness of the cold.

"Sor-- Sorry?" she clears her throat as she stumbles quickly to her feet, brushing off her skirt and the thick tights beneath it as she does.

The man behind her isn't someone she knows, which would be a frightening thing if she were in any other mental state than this one, so doused in apathy for her own self that danger doesn't really register.

He wears a warm looking hunting jacket, a thick winter cap with flaps over the ears, and holds a thermos out in front of him.

"S'only, my boy spotted you out in the cold over here," he gestures to Nancy's left where she sees a boy she does recognize, the flit-away of his gaze back to a headstone at his feet all she gets out of Eddie Munson before his arms are crossing over his chest and his shoulders are hiking up around his ears. "Wondered if maybe you couldn't do with some company? Or just somethin' warm to drink?"

He holds the thermos up, this-- this person speaking for Eddie Munson when Nancy has never seen the guy be anything other than outspoken.

The sky is gray in its darkness, a muted sort of black that doesn't allow for stars beyond the heavy clouds.

There's a little pile of stones which are the only remembrance for a girl who deserved so much better than she ever got on the ground behind her.

"You want me to...?"

"We're visitin' his Mama," he says gently, and Nancy understands Eddie's posture better now, that distance away feeling shorter between them. "Anyone out here on Christmas oughtn't be alone, though, don't you think?"

"She didn't run away," Nancy blurts, the sudden need to explain overwhelming any of the kindness being offered to her.

He just nods. Succinct but not dismissive.

"Okay."

"She--" Nancy chokes. She can't tell if her cheeks are still wet. "She didn't run away."

She's not allowed to say it. She's not allowed to talk about it. She can't impart the seriousness of how much Barb didn't leave, didn't go, didn't get far enough away before her time ran out.

But this man, this Munson, he just takes a step closer with the suggestion of an offer with the slightest raise of his arm and Nancy is-- Nancy is hugging him.

She's leaning into the warmth of him, letting him wrap his arm across her shoulders and rub her back with a gloved hand because-- because no one, not a single person, none of them listen when she says it.

Not even the ones who know, not even the boy who loves her, not her own mother who cared more about the fact that Nancy lost her virginity than her best friend.

"I hear ya," he says in a quiet murmur and Nancy believes him. Can hardly breathe past the force of what it feels like to have the words she speaks land softly, with understanding.

"Sorry, sorry," she swipes at her face as she pulls away, and he lets her go without argument, but stays standing there. "Sorry, I know I look hysterical, I just."

A hitching breath. She doesn't hear these footsteps getting closer either, but she feels Eddie's presence in that familiar posture she has gotten to know too well since that first week in November.

She's about to enter a new year, a year with a new number and a new turn of the earth that Barb will never see.

"We're going for pie," Eddie says, even as Nancy wipes her face with the tail of her scarf like a child. "Diner off Walnut's open on Christmas. If you wanna come and be a fuckin' mope with me."

And there's something to it, this undeniable acceptance that Nancy is, in fact, facing the same sort of loss as a boy without a mother, that has her snorting with laughter.

There's something about them, the Munson's with their seeing of her in the most vulnerable state she's allowed herself to express outside the privacy of her shower, that feels like the same sort of relief as the release of pressure that comes along with laughter.

"Do you always pick up strays at the cemetery?" she asks with an attempt at humor, expecting the same dry witted sarcasm in response.

Instead she gets a softening.

Instead she gets this: "I was in band with her," with the lowering of a gaze to a pile of mismatched stones, only to raise back to meet Nancy's with intent, "she made me laugh."

Nancy's chin wobbles. Her lungs too tight in her chest.

She knows then, even before she says it and earns the drape of Eddie's arm around her narrow shoulders, that she'll go with them and eat pie with them and grieve with them.

They'll tell her about the woman they've lost and maybe Nancy will be able to choke out a sentence or two about the girl who raised her only for Nancy to fail her.

They'll eat and she will listen to them because she knows the importance of such a thing and it will hurt.

It will always hurt.

"You said something about pie?" she manages to get out with a hard sniff of her frozen nose.

There is a piece of her lost to a world locked off from the rest of them.

She wonders, tucked into the Munson's pickup truck on a journey in search of pie, whether maybe that's not such an isolated feeling as she thought.

[thaliagracesgf]

Chapter Three: Holly, Jolly

wc: 5.7k

divider from @saradika-graphics, images from pinterest

general CWs, not necessarily all in this chapter: drinking, alcoholism, drug abuse, smoking, cancer, hopper being kind of a deadbeat, usual canon violence. not entirely proofread.

masterlist (incl. series)

a/n: wow. this chapter took so much out of me. it was intense. it’s been in progress for over a month (thank you for bearing with me! i was on vacation!) and i had a lot of important scenes in it that i wanted to do well. truly what got me through the last bit was chapter one of season four of @stevie-petey’s “come home” coming out last night (which you should go read, if you haven’t yet!). i hope you enjoy this!

You are absolutely fucking dead when you wake up. “Tina,” you groan. “Does your head also feel like a million nails are being drilled into it?” You look around her room, feeling absolutely attacked by the pink and the sparkles that you’ve seen a trillion times before. 

“Yes! How did you know?” She gasps sleepily, and you’re so sure she’s still drunk. “Owwww,” she moans, “that hurt.” 

“What, speaking?” you reply, and yes, it really does hurt. “Fuck me, I need to either drop dead right now or someone needs to feed me, like, all the food in Hawkins.”

“Ughhhhh,” she responds, your faces still in your pillows. “That sounds so good.” 

“We have to get up.”

“No, no no no no no no,” she cries. “We can skip today. Can we skip today?” 

“You can knock yourself out. My dad would actually lock me in jail, probably.” You don’t let yourself fall back asleep, because if you do, you know for a fact that you will not wake up again in time for class. You shuffle painfully to the edge of the bed, swinging your legs off as you continue to lay down, and eventually muster up the courage and strength to sit upright. The pain in your head gets a million bajillion times worse, and you moan again. 

“Don’t do that. Don’t do what I just did. It was so bad.” 

“I’ll suffocate you if you suffocate me,” Tina mumbles. “Then we definitely don’t have to go to school.” 

“I really, really like that plan.” You push yourself to your feet, fighting through the throbbing pain that feels like your brain is too big for your skull, and walk the two steps to your duffel bag before collapsing on the floor again. 

“I’m wearing your jeans,” you mumble to her. “I can’t wear my red pants two days in a row.”

“Wonderful,” she responds. You’re pretty sure she’s asleep again. You pull on a sweatshirt you’ve had since second grade—you can’t even remember where it came from at this point. 

You make it to school alive, by some miracle. And you definitely still look like a corpse when you walk into class, taking your seat behind Nancy. The bell rings, and your head starts to throb again. You take note of her concerned looking face, and assume she must be suffering similarly. At least you aren’t alone. 

That is, until she leans forward in her desk, “Hey Ally,” she gets the girl’s attention. “Where’s Barb?” 

“Um, shouldn’t you know?” the girl responds, turning back around.

“You haven’t seen her, anywhere?” Nancy continues. “At all?” 

Ally shakes her head, and Nancy slouches back in her chair, noticing you. Before she can ask you, you shake your head, biting your lip. This cannot be good. You don’t know Barb well, but she definitely doesn’t seem like the type to skip. 

You look ahead, forcing yourself to pay at least some attention to class, because you cannot for the life of you figure out the difference between antiderivatives and integrals, but you’re still running through possibilities of how or when Barb could have left Steve’s last night in your head.

You walk into the cafeteria, making your way over to your table in a headache-induced haze. You almost don’t notice the interesting look Steve gives you as you sit down, but you can’t figure out what it means. You manage to drown out a bit of the conversation as you think about Barb, Will, your Dad, Will, your grades, your headache, until Tommy raises his voice. 

“That’s why science doesn’t make any damn sense to me,” he says with food in his mouth, gesturing at Carol’s foot up on the table. It’s got some nasty thing on the ankle, and she’s decided that the best place to examine it is your lunch table. It’s making you nauseous the more you see it. You’re trying to avoid looking, but that’s only so possible when it’s next to your applesauce. 

“Nothing makes sense to you, dude,” you roll your eyes, and Steve snorts. 

“I swear, look at this. It’s totally frostbite,” Carol whines. 

Steve passes his applesauce over to Tommy, who thanks him before returning to his girlfriend. “It’s a heated pool,” he says dismissively.

“Well if it’s not frostbite, then what is it?” 

“Ugh,” Steve interrupts. “I don’t care what it is, it’s disgusting! Get it off the table. We’re eating here.” 

“What he said,” you add. 

Tommy touches it with his spoon, and Carol smacks him away. Much to the rest of your disgust, he continues to use the spoon for his applesauce. 

“Hey Tommy,” Nancy cuts in, trying and failing to ignore the spoon disaster, and narrowing her eyes. “When you left, did you see Barb?” 

“What?” 

“Barbara. She’s not here today.” 

“I seriously have no idea who you’re talking about,” Tommy snickers, and you roll your eyes, leaning back in your chair as he leans across the table. You’re trying to keep as far a distance between yourself and that spoon as possible. 

“Come on, don’t be an ass, man,” Steve says. “Did you… Did you see her leave last night or not?” He doesn’t actually look all that concerned with what Tommy has to say. 

“No. She was gone when we left,” Tommy says, as though he’s annoyed at Nancy and she’s asked him a million times. 

“Probably couldn’t stand listening to all that moaning,” Carol adds. The pair of them start mocking Nancy, loudly, turning heads in the cafeteria. You kick her across the table.

“Come on, that’s so disgusting, guys.” 

“You say that because you got out of there, Y/N!” she laughs. “It was bad.” 

“Can you… can you just cut it out?” You glare at her, and she gives you a puzzling look back, smirking at you. 

Your friend is trying to hide his smile, though. And it’s extremely troubling for you. Why are all your friends turning into extra special assholes this week? 

“Listen…” he turns to Nancy, not doing anything about how uncomfortable she looks as Tommy and Carol die of laughter across from them. “I’m sure she’s fine. She’s probably just… she’s probably just, like, skipping, or something.” 

“Yeah.” Nancy replies, totally unconvinced. You catch her eye. “Yeah, probably.” 

You sit on the brick ledge just outside after Chem as Nancy tries to call Barb’s mom. You made the suggestion after class, after watching her skittish looks and jittery vibe for an hour, and offered to come with her. Now you fiddle with the fraying edge of your hoodie as she stands by the phone. 

The line rings. “Come on, come on, come on…” Nancy mutters.

You’re not sure what to do with your eyes, whether you seem uninterested and bored if you stare at the ground or a creep if you watch or check up on her as she calls. As you kick a rock on the pavement, you think about driving by Dustin and the Sinclairs’ houses tonight. You realize you haven’t seen the boys since Will went missing. Since you let him go home on his own. You blink back sudden tears in your eyes. You’ve been trying not to vocalize it in your mind, knowing it would send you over the edge, but you know Will’s disappearance is your fault. If you had just driven him the rest of the way, seen that Jonathan had eyes on him before taking off…

“Hello?” You startle at the faint voice of a woman who must be Barb’s mom through the phone. 

“Hi!” Nancy also jumps. “Hi, uh, Ms. Holland, it’s Nancy.” 

“Oh, Nancy, how are you?” the muffled voice returns. 

“Good… I’m good. Um, I was just wondering, is, uh, is Barb there?” her voice sounds a little higher than normal. 

“Mmm… no…” you can’t hear the rest of the sentence, but Nancy winces, so you assume she’s not there. A growing pit makes you sick to your stomach. Are you cursed? Are people you sort of hang out with doomed to go missing? Are you being incredibly narcissistic by thinking about that right now instead of Will and Barbara, their families? 

“But she did come home, right? After the vigil?” You can’t hear Ms. Holland anymore over a ringing in your ears. 

“Right. Yes. She did, sorry. I meant, did she come home this morning? I think she left some textbooks and she was gonna go pick them up.” 

“Oh, um, no, I haven’t seen her,” Ms. Holland’s voice comes back through. You fiddle with the edges of a food drive poster on the side of the phone box. 

“Do— do you know what? I just remembered… she’s at the library.” Nancy is not doing a great job at this, you hate to say it. You make eye contact with some sort of leopard or cheetah on a Battle of the Bands flier, and wonder briefly if Eddie Munson is doing it. You can hear his fucking guitar every single night at home. There was a point when you thought about starting a band together, when you were in fifth grade, but your music tastes were completely different. You argued for hours on what your band’s sound would be before finally calling it quits. You sort of drifted from Eddie, after that. He always thought you were trying too hard to fit in around Steve and Tina, trying to convince you to hang out with kids “like you.” I.e.: other poor kids.

“Yeah. Yeah, I will,” Nancy responds to something you missed. “Sorry to bother you.” She hangs up the phone and sighs. You bite your lip again, and the end of school bell rings. You grab her hand, in an attempt to comfort her, you guess, and the two of you start walking up to the parking lot. 

The pit in your stomach grows again when you see your friends at the top of the hill, leaning on what you recognize as Jonathan Byers’ car. Although, even if you didn’t know the car, you’d probably have been able to figure it out. Jonathan shuffles uncomfortably near them; his presence, especially, is the concerning part. Steve, Tommy, and Carol are rifling through some papers, and you hear Steve’s voice, sounding harsher than usual.

“No.” He rolls one and waves it at Jonathan. “No, this is called stalking.” 

“What?” You exclaim, and their heads turn to you and Nancy as you come up the slope. 

“What’s going on?” Nancy asks, a little hesitantly, observing Jonathan and furrowing her brows.

“Here’re the starring ladies,” Tommy jeers. 

“What?” Nancy adjusts her bag. 

“Jonathan?” you can see Steve grit his teeth as you address the other boy. You’re about to stop yourself and start on him when Carol interrupts. 

“This creep was spying on us last night,” Carol looks a little too happy to illuminate the pair of you. “He was probably gonna save these for later.” She passes you photo sheets, and the picture she passes you might honestly surpass all of the shitty things that have happened to you this week. It’s you, sitting on the edge of the pool, lifting your arms in the air as you shotgun a beer. 

Your red bikini top, here in black and white, is pushing up your chest, and to be honest, your first thought is that it’s a great photo of your boobs before you remember why it exists, and the world seems to come crashing down on your shoulders. 

Your headache worsens, and the tears you’ve been holding back throughout the day threaten dangerously to spill over, and you have to fight not to let them. You’re not going to cry in front of Tommy and Carol, and you don’t think you want to cry in front of Jonathan Byers right now, either. 

You glance at Nancy’s, and it’s somehow worse. It’s her, from the back, at least, pulling her shirt off in the window you know is Steve’s room. It’s sick. You knew they had sex last night. Jonathan Byers is a creep. You knew he liked her. You never want to see Jonathan Byers again in your life. You knew it was going to happen. You think you’re going to throw up, or cry, or both. 

“See, you can tell that he knows it was wrong, but…” Steve starts, clicking his tongue, “man, that’s the thing about perverts. It’s hardwired into them.” He ruffles Jonathan’s collar. He looks like a total douche. You don’t know what’s going on right now, what you’re thinking. You can’t breathe. “You know, they just can’t help themselves.” He tears up the photos left in his hands, and Tommy laughs. Nicole, the girl you’ve really only just noticed, crosses her arms smugly. You want to yell at her, of all people, right now. Why the hell is she here? Why is she pretending she cares about any of you, any of your friends? Who gave her the right to look at Jonathan the way she is? You want to slap her. 

“So… we’ll just have to take away his toy.” 

For some reason, that’s what snaps you back to reality. “No!” You think you shout but it comes out as a murmur. Steve looks at you incredulously, and Tommy and Carol snicker. 

“Steve…” Nancy starts. 

“No, please, not the camera,” Jonathan almost begs. It’s pathetic. You hate him. So much. He moves for the camera, and Tommy blocks him. 

“No, no, wait, wait,” he holds out his hand. “Tommy, Tommy.” The other boy backs off, and Steve turns from Jonathan to look at you. “Are you serious, Hopper?” There’s so much in the way he says it. You can read his voice like the back of your hand, now, after ten years of being his best friend. You hear him asking you what the hell has come over you, why you’re taking this pervert’s side. 

Then he addresses Jonathan again. “To be honest, man, you’ve got some balls, taking these of her.” Your heart is beating out of its chest, and the ringing is coming back around you. “I mean, do you know who her dad is?” 

“Steve,” you warn. 

“Oh,” he clicks his tongue again. “That’s my bad. I guess you’ve been spending a lot of time around him lately, huh?” 

“Steve!” You shout. 

“It’s okay,” he holds his hand out at you for a second, offering the camera out to Jonathan. “Here you go, man.” He reaches for it, but Steve drops it on the pavement, and you watch as the lens, and probably all the machinery you don’t understand inside, shatters. 

“Steve!” You cry out as it happens. You don’t really know what else to say. 

Will bought him that camera. Will bought him that camera. Will bought him that camera. 

“Y/N, do you have any quarters?” Lucas’s voice ringing in your head. “Will’s got nothing, he’s totally saving everything for this dumb Christmas present for his brother.” 

Steve Harrington is a rich asshole, and you don’t know why you ever thought he could be a good friend. 

The realization hits you like a million bricks, and you bend down to desperately scoop camera pieces up, in part to cover the tears that have actually started rolling down your face. He’s not a good person. He’s not a good person. And there’s nothing you can do about it. And you don’t have any other friends, because at this point your only other option is a pervert who was taking pictures of the boobs you’re never going to be able to look in the mirror at again. 

As Jonathan bends down beside you, it takes a lot of strength not to shove him on his back. Let him know you don’t care about him. You care about the bits of her paycheck that Joyce Byers put aside for Will’s small allowance, all of which went into that piggy bank for that camera. You care about the quarters that Dustin, Lucas, and Mike sacrificed at the arcade when he showed up with nothing because he had saved it all for that camera. You cared about the hours you had spent at the grocery store with Lucas as he rolled his eyes at Erica, who was berating him for being picky over lemons for the lemonade stand they were building, where all the profits were going to the stupid fucking camera. 

And now it was laying in shards in the Hawkins High parking lot, and your best friend in the entire world was responsible for it. 

And he was walking away. 

You make a split second decision to abandon the camera, chasing after Steve down the hill. As you get up, you kick a bit of what was the lens, and you hope it cuts Jonathan open. 

“Steve!” You bark, turning the heads of your friends up ahead. You storm up to him and shove him backwards. 

“What the hell, Hopper?” He stumbles back. You’re almost stronger than him. You’re certainly a better swimmer. 

“You’re such an asshole, Harrington!” You shout.

“I’m sorry,” he shakes his head in disbelief, “did you not see the photos he was taking of you? Or of my girlfriend?” You think the last sentence hits you kind of hard, but you don’t think about it. You’re too angry.

“You don’t think! You don’t think about anyone except your fucking self, Steve.”

You can see in his eyes that he genuinely doesn’t understand why you’re angry at him. And of course he doesn’t. He doesn’t know about the camera, or Will. But he has to know the Byers don’t have money, right? He has to know that Jonathan can’t buy a new camera, right? He has to know the sacrifices someone in that family made to get him that, right? He has to know that you’re just like Jonathan Byers. Right?

You don’t realize at first that you’re hyperventilating. Or that you really are crying, now. You can’t breathe. You’re vaguely aware of being lowered to the ground, and of Steve crouching in front of you, rubbing your arm. Of him calling Nancy over, and of her stroking your back, and telling you you’re okay. Of your breathing slowing down, and of them helping you back to your feet. Of trudging to the gym as Nancy helps you walk, and Steve looks at you from her other side as if for the first time in his life, he can’t figure you out. 

You sit with your back against the lockers, staring at the side of the bench Carol’s laying on. 

“So,” she laughs from Tommy’s lap, “I told Mr. Mundy, the solution of ten plus Y equals… blow me.” Tommy snickers. 

“Bull,” Steve calls. “If you did that you’d be in detention right now.”. You realize you’ve ditched Nicole somewhere on your way back in. Good riddance, you figure. She was probably just trying to get in with the four—five?— of you. You realize you probably sound like a narcissist. You don’t entirely realize that you’re definitely projecting your anger about this from Steve onto this random girl. 

“Saturday,” Carol replies.

“I bet Mr. Mundy’s still a virgin.”

“Oh, he’s so a virgin.” 

“Maybe you should blow him, Carol. Help your grades a bit.”

“Nice, Tommy,” you mutter. Tommy gives you a look, as if to say, “She speaks!” Carol smacks him.

You can’t see Nancy from the floor, but as she walks away your eyes follow her. 

“Hey! Nance, where you going?” Steve calls. 

“I totally forgot,” she stammers, turning back. “I told my Mom I would… do something with her.”

“Well, what do you mean? The game’s about to start!” 

“I’m sorry,” she winces as she walks down the hall.

You watch Steve watch her go. Good for her, honestly. You’re thinking about doing the same thing, and the only thing stopping you is still that raging headache.

“What the hell’s wrong with her?” he turns back to the three of you. 

You shrug, sinking deeper into your hoodie. 

“Maybe she freaked out when you went all psycho on the psycho,” Tommy jeers, looking over at you as he says it. You jeer back at him, silently. 

“Oh, give me a break,” Steve dismisses him.

“What’d you expect, dating Miss Perfect?” Carol’s bubble pops loudly, echoing in the cinderblock hall. 

“Can you guys just…” you trail off. “Shut up?” 

“Okay, what the hell is going on with you?” Carol rolls her eyes.

“I just… stop making this into such a thing. I don’t want my dad finding out about this.” 

“Yeah, no shit,” Tommy chortles, and you look at him, surprised. 

“No one’s telling your dad,” Steve says. “None of us were supposed to be there, not just you and Tina.”

“Really, Steve?” you raise your voice. “I don’t want him to get mad at Mrs. Byers, or anything that’s going to stop him looking for Will,” you scoff at him. “To be honest, I could care less right now whether he finds out about your stupid fucking party.”

Tommy whistles. “She got you, man,” he reaches out to push Steve, and you glare at him, too. 

“Jesus Christ, Y/N, I just—” he trails off. “Can we just go to the game?”

You look up at him, meeting his eyes. For the second time today, you don’t think you understand each other at all. “I think… I think I’m gonna go home,” you say, and confusion passes through his eyes. 

“What?” 

“Yeah, I just… I don’t feel great. And I probably have to make dinner, or you know, my Dad won’t eat anything, and…” 

“Yeah. Fine. Whatever. Just go, Y/N.” He waves his arm at you, dismissively. 

“I… I’m sorry.” 

“Yeah.” 

Tommy and Carol are watching the interaction, Tommy almost wide-eyed and Carol blowing another bubble, bored. You scoop your backpack off the floor, looking for Steve’s eyes one last time, but he’s not looking at you. He stares at the ceiling instead, so you turn and walk down the hall, between the green and orange striped cinder block, the same way Nancy’s just gone.

You feel like the empty roads of Hawkins are closing in on you. Empty branches reach across to close in on you and your car. You swear you keep seeing shadows pass among them, and you jump at every one. You’re scared that you’re going to swerve and crash your car, but the thought of pulling over, any closer to these woods, is unthinkable. So you speed along towards the park, trying to keep your eyes on the asphalt as opposed to the forest, and think about anything other than Will or Barbara, and the serial kidnapper that’s lurking somewhere around this town. 

As you drive into the park, the lights from the trailers around you provide some small comfort, but you curse your father for choosing a spot so far from everyone else, and by the open water that seems to absorb all the light for twenty yards around your house. The sun set in the short while it took to drive home. If there was a graph charting the correlation between the amount of sun and your level of fear, it would have an approximate slope of negative one. Or negative ten. Or negative ten thousand. 

Gravel crunches under your tires as you pull in, and you turn the car off as soon as possible. You think you’re hoping that if you’re completely silent, and completely invisible, that whatever monsters are lurking around town won’t come for you. You sit in your car for what seems like hours, but is probably closer to twenty minutes, before you decide that you don’t want to get out of it. It’s warm, and your house is definitely freezing. So you dig the walkie-talkie out of the bottom of your bag, and fumble with the dials, tapping into the police office’s main line. 

“Flo?” You start. 

It takes a moment, but her voice crackles back through. 

“Hi, sweetie.” Her voice sounds strained. 

“Is something wrong? I was just wondering if you knew where my dad was.” 

“Oh, sweetie. He’s… he’s heading down to the quarry, but you shouldn’t go down there—” You tune her out. Why would you go down there? You never follow your dad to work. Why would you…  

“Will,” your voice creaks. 

“Oh, sweetheart, would you like to come over here, and wait for your father to finish up?” You know she’s nervous, you know she’s looking out for you, but the way she says “finish up”, as if Will is some menial task, makes your stomach drop.

“No, Thanks, Flo,” you mutter. You can hear her responding to you, but you’re not listening. You toss the walkie into the passenger seat, and before you can think about what you’re doing, you reverse your car and fly back out of the trailer park. 

You race back down the tree-lined streets, no longer caring that they’re closing in on you. It’s only five minutes or so to the quarry, but it feels like twenty with the way your heart is pounding out of your chest and you feel your breath leaving you again. 

You hear the sirens before you see them, but as you turn the corner your eyes are assaulted by the flashing red and blue of what must be every law enforcement, firefighting, or ambulatory vehicle in Hawkins. 

You let out a strangled cry as you park your car and jump out, starting towards the water before you see the boys peeking out from behind a fire truck. There’s so much going on, there’s so much happening. Will. Why are they here, how can they be here? Will. You need to get them out of here. 

“Hey!” You shout and they all jump. “You guys need to get out of here, come on— who is this?” There’s another boy with them,  or at least you thought at first, but now you’re pretty sure it’s a little girl with her head buzzed. None of them answer you, all watching your father storm past officers at the quarry. 

You all watch as a small body is pulled out of the water. Your hand flies to your mouth, and you cry. 

“It’s not Will,” Mike says, holding the pole on the back of the truck for support. “It can’t be.” 

You can’t find words to respond to him. Officers pull a stretcher further up the shore, and you would recognize that little red vest anywhere. But Lucas shakes his head, and tears start to fall from his eyes. “It’s Will. It’s really Will.” 

Mike straightens, turning away from the sight. You’re holding Dustin’s shoulders from behind him, as tightly as if you can stop this from happening if you hold on to him like this. 

“Mike…” the girl says, but he slaps her hand away. 

“”Mike��? “Mike,” what?” He shouts. “You were supposed to help us find him alive. You said he was alive!” You’re so confused, so lost, and staring at the water. You don’t know what the hell is going on with these kids, but you know that their best friend is dead on that stretcher, and Mike is distraught, and he’s taking it out on this girl, possibly in the same way you were taking out your anger at Steve on Nicole. “Why did you lie to us?” His voice cracks. “What’s wrong with you!? What is wrong with you?” 

“Mike…” 

“What?” The girl shakes her head, and Mike prods her for an answer with his eyes, before he turns and storms off. 

“Michael!” 

“Mike, come on,” Lucas protests. “Don’t do this, man.” 

“Mike, where are you going? Mike!” Dustin shouts.

But Mike ignores all of you, picking up his bike and getting away as fast as he can.

You don’t know what you’re supposed to do here, left with two of the kids you babysit and some random girl that you think they might have kidnapped from a cancer ward. But you have to pull yourself together. They can’t be here. You can’t be here, but them especially. You think this might be one of the worst places for them to ever be. 

“Come on, guys,” you manage. “Get in the car.” 

Dustin and Lucas nod solemnly, and carry their bikes to your trunk. The girl stands awkwardly back, until you look between her and the boys and gesture for her to hop in. 

The car is silent, except for the few seconds where you ask where you’re supposed to drop this girl off. Some sad whispering and hesitation determines that you should take her to Mike’s, and you do, watching her climb in through the basement window. 

“Okay,” you start, as soon as she’s inside. “I realize that this is one of the worst times for this, but one of you needs to tell me what the hell is going on with her.” 

Dustin and Lucas argue muffledly in the backseat.

“Today,” you drum on the steering wheel. You’re trying to distract yourself—one problem at a time. 

“She has superpowers,” Dustin mumbles, as Lucas says:

“We just found her.” 

You try, and fail, to make sense of their words. 

“Okay…” you look at Dustin in the rearview mirror. “What do you mean, “she has superpowers”?” Lucas gives him a look that you interpret as warning him not to say anything else. 

He talks anyway. “She lifted Mike’s Millenium Falcon with her mind.” Jesus Christ. 

“Dustin, I’m being serious here,” you sigh. “I just want… I just want to help.” 

“I am being serious!” 

You sit in silence, mind reeling. Obviously this is some bit that he and the others have made up, and he’s confused. Surely. But how would you feel if you were bringing something like this to your dad, and he didn’t believe you? But you have no reason to believe him. Superpowers don’t exist. The kid’s best friend has just been found dead in the quarry you’ve all swum in since you were kids, and he’s been reading too much X-Men. 

“He’s not lying,” Lucas says quietly. He’s staring out the window, tears still rolling down his cheeks, but he mumbles at you as you drive. 

“We found her in the woods the night of the storm.” 

“You were out at night in the woods? In a storm!?” You almost crash your car. “Are you guys insane?” 

“We were looking for Will!” 

“That’s not for you to do, Lucas! That’s what the police, and the adults who are volunteering are for! And you certainly shouldn’t have been alone!” 

“Yeah, well, look at what a great job your dad did,” he snaps. 

You purse your lips and stare at the reflected traffic lines ahead of you. 

“I’m not… I’m not saying… Look, you guys just have to be safe, okay? Will isn’t the only kid who’s gone missing.” You realize as you say it that Will’s body doesn’t solve the mystery of Barb’s disappearance. Impossibly, a sliver of hope rises that there’s more to this than meets the eye, but you shove it back down. You’ve just seen Will’s body raised from the water. The water. Barb was by the pool. 

“What?” They ask together. 

“I… forget I said anything,” you rush. 

“Who’s missing?” 

“Friend of Nancy’s.” Dustin rolls his eyes. 

“Who, Steve Harrington?” Lucas scoffs. 

“I— no.” Why would you ever introduce Steve as a friend of Nancy’s? “Barb. Red hair? Nevermind.” 

“What if…” Dustin turns to Lucas. 

“No, dude. He’s dead. Dead!.” Lucas crosses his arms, going back to his position at the window. 

“Okay,” you mutter, and startle the boys as you pull the car over to the side of the road. “You both need to tell me exactly what the fuck is going on here.” 

They do their hesitation and bantering dance again, before the mumbles all rush out, and you can’t make sense of who’s saying what. 

“She’s psychic, or something.” 

“She tried to get naked in Mike’s basement.” 

“She said she could find Will.” 

“She said he’s hiding.” 

“Okay, okay, okay!” Now this is making a little more sense. A skill at guessing what people are thinking, or something, is much more reasonable than telekinesis. And they must have let their minds run a little amok. 

“You find this girl, and she says she knows something about Will?” They nod. “And you don’t take this to the police?” They shuffle uncomfortably. “Chill. I’m not a spy for my dad. I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on here.” 

“She said bad men were after her.” A chill runs up your spine.

“What do you mean, bad men?” 

Dustin raises his hand, holding it like a gun, and starts to point it at your head. “Dude!” Lucas shouts. “You’re going to freak her out.” He turns to you. “Guns. Basically.”

“Military, maybe?”

“Why would the military care about some kid?” Lucas asks. 

“I don’t know. I don’t know.” You stop to think for a second, but your mind is exhausted. You’re so, so, tired. And the boys must be as well. You’re glad, at least, that you seem to have distracted them from the body for a moment, even if it’s with more of this weird situation. But you need to sleep, and so do they. You tell them so, and they try to protest at first. “I’ll come by in the morning, okay? We can talk more then. Just… radio if you need anything, okay?” 

“Yeah, okay,” Lucas murmurs. Dustin nods in agreement. You drive them back to their houses in silence again. You’ve all resolved to your quiet mourning, but at least in you, something is stirring. Something that wants to get to the bottom of this, to find Barbara if you can’t find Will. And to at least find out, for sure, what happened to him. Hold someone accountable, if there is anyone. In a strange way, you hope there is someone. 

As you drop each boy off, you watch as they walk in through their doors. You know you won’t be making that same mistake again. 

a/n: thank you for reading! as always, all reblogs, shares, comments, asks, etc are so so appreciated! let me know what you think!

taglist (just ask if you'd like to be added!): @thisisourlovestory, @ladygrey03

[empress-of-snark]

and there’s a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you dear

have I known you twenty seconds or twenty years?

can I go where you go?

can we always be this close forever and ever?

stranger things rarepair collection