Chapter Text
chapter 3: i pictured you with other girls in love, then threw up on the street
Nancy tries to cover her eyes from the morning light, unsuccessful. As she sits in Steve’s bed, she brings her hand to her forehead, as if massaging it would make the headache go away. She looks down and sees she’s wearing one of her boyfriend’s shirts, which, as always, looks stupidly oversized on her.
“Hey, good morning,” Steve says with a smile. Nancy lies back down on the bed.
“I hate to be the one with the bad news, but you’ve got classes today. You’ve been saying something about…” He scratches his hair. “Actually, I don’t really remember, but you’ve got something important to do.”
“Damn it,” she sighs. “My English assignment, I have to hand it in today.” She gets up and looks for her bag. “I don’t even have clean clothes.”
“You can grab one of mine,” he says.
“Yeah, sure. I’ll just have to walk all day holding my pants.” Steve walks to his closet. “Hmm, I’m pretty sure I have something old from middle school here.”
“Good,” she says. “I’ll look like a thirteen-year-old Steve Harrington.”
(...)
It didn’t matter how hard Nancy tried, she couldn’t keep following what Miss Click was saying about the ’29 crisis. History has always been her favorite class after English, but her mind kept leading her to think about the freckles all over Robin’s face. They covered her nose, which stood out in the best way, making her look even more charming. The short red skirt she was wearing gave Nancy the opportunity to notice her long legs, and her red heeled shoes made her look taller than she already was.
But it was the way she smiled, calling her a princess, that wouldn’t let Nancy think straight. That idiot smile kept lingering in her mind and made it even worse for her to remember what Robin looked like when she said she thought Nancy wouldn’t like someone like her. What’s it like being like her? Liking girls? Nancy kept thinking that maybe she was right, because it did make her nauseous seeing Robin with a girl, and she felt even worse picturing her and Vickie kissing each other.
How can I be grossed out by her liking girls? That shouldn’t be a problem. That isn’t a problem, she thought. So what could explain her feeling sick when thinking of Buckley touching another girl’s lips?
She knew that almost everyone in Hawkins acted like being gay was the same thing as having a contagious illness, as if “these kinds of people” would get into their homes and destroy their perfect lives.
Nancy had noticed it years ago, when Will Byers was even younger than her and was already being called “queer” or “a faggot” by other kids, and even by adults. She couldn’t understand what would change about him if he actually liked other boys. She couldn’t see why, suddenly, that sweet, smart, and creative little boy was perceived as a freak, like Robin had been called last night. She could never think of Will that way, nor Robin. She might not have made good assumptions about her at first, but even if she wanted to — and God, how she wanted to last night — she couldn’t get mad at her. In fact, she kept thinking about how her cheeks burned when Robin talked about her eye color, and tried to remember a moment when Steve had made her feel like this.
He’s every girl’s dream boyfriend, she thought. And she knew it was true. He was always funny, kind, and caring, and made sure he was never overstepping Nancy’s limits about anything. Their first time together, he had tried his best to make Nancy feel comfortable, and he knew better than anyone how to make her feel safe and seen. It was easy being with him; it felt like how it was supposed to be. More than feeling her heart racing, Nancy felt like they worked together. It’s not like passion lasts forever, she thought. It wasn’t like everyone felt that urge to be as close as possible to their partner, or that butterflies in your stomach were actually a thing. That kind of romance was only something that sells movies and books, and that’s all. For Nancy, love was real, but it was perceived as being with someone who could give you security and friendship. That breathtaking, uncontrollable kind of love just wasn’t something real. She kept convincing herself that she shouldn’t wish to feel like that about anyone. Why would she want to feel that anxiety, to feel like she couldn’t control her emotions around someone? To act stupid, inconsequential, when she had stability with Steve?
Lost in her thoughts, Nancy only noticed the bell had rung when the other students started leaving the class. She had a free period before her English class, so she headed to the library to review her assignment about their last reading, George Orwell’s 1984.
As she approached one of the library’s round desks, she noticed Robin and Vickie next to the bookshelves. The redhead was laughing quietly while Robin was talking and moving her hands, like she always did when she got nervous or excited about something. Nancy thought about how Robin seemed comfortable around Vickie, like they knew each other better than anyone. She also looked like that around Steve, and that was the only explanation Nancy could find for why she felt so weird seeing them together. It just wasn’t helping her understand why she was feeling this way again in the library. She tried to hear their conversation.
“Why didn’t I know your French was that good?” Vickie asked, smiling.
“There’s a lot of things no one imagines about me, ma chérie.” Vickie laughed softly.
“And actually,” Robin continued, “there are only two sentences that I really have to know for sure.”
“Which ones?” she asked.
“‘Je voudrais un croissant, s’il vous plaît,’ and—” the second bell rang, announcing the start of classes. Nancy couldn’t hear what she said.
“Shit,” Vickie said. “I have to run. See you later, madame.” She kissed Robin’s cheek, making Nancy feel nauseous again. God, she thought, what’s wrong with me?
Alone now, Robin looked around the library, noticing Nancy seated, reading her notebook. When she woke up next to Vickie that morning, her friend told her that she had found her with Nancy last night, completely drunk. She spent all her first period remembering what happened, gradually feeling more ashamed about the things she had said to Wheeler. She remembered that she had apologized for the “boring Barbie” thing, but she felt like it didn’t count, since she hadn’t actually been thinking about what she was saying. Not that she needed to be drunk to only think after she had already spoken.
Nancy pretended that she didn’t notice Robin approaching, looking at the words she wrote about 1984 and not being capable of connecting them into something that made sense. She felt her cheeks burning again, like last night, and like every time Steve made Robin laugh about something he said.
“Hey,” she said shyly, “is it okay if I sit?” Robin asked, looking down.
“Sure, no problem,” Nancy answered, trying to act nonchalant. Why am I acting like this?
“Look… I came to say that I’m sorry about last night, but… no, I mean, I’m sorry about last night! But, um… actually, I wanted to say thanks,” Robin said, feeling like a jerk.
“Thanks?” Nancy asked, wondering how she could make her feel even more confused every time she talked to her. “For what?”
“I mean, you didn’t have any reason for… looking out for me, I guess? But even so, you did. And it was really nice of you, so thanks, Nancy.” Robin looked for her eyes, but she was staring at her notebook. She noticed that Nancy used cursive handwriting, a really pretty one.
“That’s alright, I would do it for any girl,” Nancy said, only noticing how rude she sounded after hearing her own voice.
“Oh! Yeah, totally, I know. It’s just that, you know, we aren’t friends or anything… and still, you were really cool for doing it, and I don’t know, I just thought I might let—” Nancy interrupted, looking at her.
“Robin,” she said softly this time, “it’s okay. I’m glad you let me know that.”
“I… I’m still sorry for what I said to you. You’re not boring, not at all. You are as pretty as a Barbie, for sure, but you’re a really cool one. Like an astronaut or surgeon Barbie.” At that point, Robin didn’t know what she was saying anymore. “And I’m sorry too for oversharing, and maybe ruining your night.” She always felt quite awkward talking to people she wasn’t close to, but she was feeling especially weird today. More than usual.
She thinks I’m pretty? Nancy realized that she was taking too long to give her an answer.
“It’s okay, you didn’t ruin my night. Actually, I’m glad we talked. I thought that you didn’t like me.”
“Yeah… Steve let me know that.” He and his big mouth, Nancy thought. “But he didn’t say anything about you!” Robin hurried to explain. “He just told me that I was making it weird for you. And I didn’t know that people insinuated that we’re together. We’re totally platonic soulmates. He really is like a brother to me.”
“No, I know that! And I guess I didn’t give you a chance either. It’s just… Steve always says good things about you, funny stories of you two together. I just wondered why you couldn’t be like that when I was around.” Oh, Robin thought, she wonders about me. So she didn’t think of her as a freak, after all.
“Well,” Robin started, “now that I know that you don’t hate me either, I think we should try getting to know each other better, Nancy Wheeler.”
“Yeah,” she smiled, “I think that would be good, Buckley.” Robin looked down, seeing the doodles on her red Converse.
“I think we could start with you not staring at your shoes while talking to me,” Nancy teased, just so they wouldn’t break old habits all at once. She could see Robin’s face turning red, which made her suppress a chuckle.
“I think I can try it, princess.” Damn it, Nancy thought as she felt her cheeks burning again like last night.