Chapter Text
The drive back to campus is quieter than the drive home.
The car hums steadily beneath them, tires kissing asphalt, the radio murmuring low enough to be ignorable. The sky is overcast, that soft gray that makes everything feel paused, like the world is holding its breath.
Nancy watches the road blur past, hands folded tightly in her lap. Hawkins is already shrinking behind them, but the weight of it lingers. Home always does that to her. It settles into her chest and refuses to leave quietly.
Mike drives with one hand on the wheel, the other tapping absently against his thigh. He doesn’t push the silence. He learned, somewhere along the way, when to let it stretch.
Nancy breaks it first.
“I think I messed up,” she says, staring straight ahead.
Mike glances at her, then back to the road. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”
She exhales. “Robin asked about me. Will told me.”
Mike nods. “Yeah.”
“She thinks she did something wrong.” Nancy’s voice cracks on the last word. “And I let her.”
Mike’s jaw tightens. “Nancy.”
“I was scared,” she says quickly, like it might excuse everything. “And I didn’t know how to explain it without saying too much or not enough or—” She swallows. “I didn’t want to lose her.”
Mike signals, merging onto the highway. “Avoiding her was never going to help with that.”
“I know,” Nancy sighs, quieter. “I know.”
They drive in silence for a few moments. Trees rush past. The world keeps moving, inconsiderate and relentless.
“She likes you,” Mike says finally. Not teasing. Not gentle. Just honest.
Nancy closes her eyes. “Will didn’t say that.”
“He didn’t have to,” Mike replies. “He was trying to protect you. And her.”
Nancy presses her forehead lightly against the window. The glass is cool. Grounding.
“What if I’m not ready?” she asks. “What if I say something and everything changes?”
Mike sighs. “Everything already changed.”
She knows he’s right. That’s the worst part.
“I don’t want to hurt her,” Nancy says.
“Then don’t disappear,” Mike says simply. “Talk to her. Tell her the truth. Even the messy parts.”
Nancy thinks of Robin’s smile outside her dorm. The postcard tucked into her bag. The space between them that feels louder than any argument.
“What if I freeze?” she asks.
Mike smiles, small and knowing. “Then she’ll probably ramble until you don’t.”
Nancy laughs despite herself. It slips out, surprised and shaky.
The campus signs start to appear in the distance. Familiar. Inevitable.
Mike glances at her again. “You don’t have to have this all figured out. You just have to show up.”
Nancy nods, heart pounding.
She doesn’t feel ready.
But for the first time, she feels willing.
Nancy slings her bag higher on her shoulder as Mike pulls up to the curb outside her dorm.
“You okay?” he asks, already knowing the answer will be complicated.
She nods anyway. “Yeah.”
He doesn’t press. He just smiles, soft and encouraging. “I’ll be around,” he says. “Text me.”
“I will.” She shuts the door before she can talk herself into staying inside the car.
Mike waits until she reaches the steps before pulling away. The car disappears around the corner, engine fading into the campus noise.
Nancy takes a breath as she reaches the dorm building.
“Nancy!”
The sound of her name stops her cold.
She turns.
Robin is halfway across the walkway, grocery bag swinging wildly from her hand, hair slightly frizzed from the wind. She’s breathing a little harder than usual, like she’d been moving faster than she meant to.
“Oh,” Nancy says, eloquent as ever.
Robin slows when she reaches her, offering a small, careful smile. “Hey. Sorry. I—” She lifts the bag like it explains everything. “I just came from the bodega and then I saw you getting out of Mike’s car and I didn’t want you to disappear again.”
The words slip out before she can soften them. Robin winces immediately.
Nancy’s chest tightens. “I wasn’t trying to disappear.”
“I know,” Robin says quickly. “I mean— I think I know. I just…” She trails off, shifting her weight. “Can we talk? If you’re not busy. Or tired. Or—”
“Yes,” Nancy says, too fast. Then, steadier, “Yeah. We can talk.”
Robin exhales, relief flashing across her face. “Okay. Good.”
They stand there for a beat, the dorm door looming behind Nancy, the afternoon air buzzing with distant voices and footsteps.
“My room?” Nancy offers quietly.
Robin nods. “Yeah. That’s good.”
They walk inside together, not quite touching but close enough to feel each other’s presence. Robin’s arm brushes Nancy’s once in the stairwell and neither of them pulls away.
Nancy’s heart pounds, but this time she doesn’t run.
She opens her door.
Robin steps inside.
And for the first time in weeks, the space between them finally closes.
Robin doesn’t sit.
She sets the bodega bag down by the door like it might explode, then immediately starts pacing, hands running through her hair, stopping, starting again. The room feels too small for everything she’s holding in.
“I wasn’t planning to ambush you,” she blurts. “Just— I saw you and I thought if I didn’t say something right now, I never would.”
Nancy closes the door softly behind them. The sound feels final somehow.
Robin laughs, sharp and breathless. “God, okay. I’m already doing this wrong.”
“Robin,” Nancy says gently.
“I know, I know,” she says quickly. “You can stop me if you want. Please stop me if you want.”
Nancy doesn’t.
Robin swallows and keeps going.
“I noticed,” she says, voice lower now. “You pulling away. At first I told myself you were just busy. Midterms. Life. Whatever. But then it kept happening.”
She gestures vaguely between them. “No more walking back together. No more museum-level enthusiasm about literally anything. You stopped texting like you used to. And when you did text, it was… careful.”
Nancy’s chest tightens.
“I kept replaying everything,” Robin admits. “The club. The museum. That stupid postcard. I thought maybe I imagined it. Or worse, that I misread you and made you uncomfortable.”
She lets out a shaky breath. “I talked to Will.”
Nancy’s eyes widen slightly.
“Not like— I didn’t ask him to out you or anything,” Robin rushes. “I just… I asked if you were okay. If I’d done something wrong. And he did that thing where he’s kind but also says nothing?”
Nancy winces. That tracks.
“He said you were figuring stuff out,” Robin continues. “Which somehow made it worse? Because then I didn’t know if I should give you space or fight for you or pretend nothing was happening.”
Her voice cracks now, the rambling finally catching up to her.
“And I really tried to pretend,” she says. “I tried to be normal. But every time I saw you laugh with someone else or walk away too fast after class, it felt like I was losing you inch by inch.”
Robin’s words are tumbling over each other now, apologies stacking on top of confessions, her voice thin with nerves. Nancy has to stop her somehow.
“Robin, I-” Robin barely hears her in her rant.
“…and I don’t need you to feel anything back, I swear, I just, I miss you, and I don’t want this to be the thing that ruins us, because I can handle liking you quietly if that’s what it takes, I can, I just—”
There's only one way she'll be able to stop her.
“Nancy—”
Nancy steps forward, heart pounding so loudly it almost drowns out the world. She grabs Robin by the jaw and presses her lips to her lips.
It’s tentative. A brush, really. Soft enough to still be a question. Her stomach knots at Robin freezing. Free hand clenching at her side.
For half a breath, Robin doesn’t move. Her mind stalls, like she’s afraid this is something she imagined out of longing alone. Heartbeat loud in her ears. Her hands hover uselessly at her sides, fingers twitching.
Then she exhales, a shaky little sound that barely makes it past her throat, and everything in her softens. Nancy feels her relax.
Robin kisses back gently, carefully, like she’s handling something fragile and precious. One hand comes up, almost without permission, and settles at Nancy’s wrist, grounding herself there. Her thumb presses into warm skin, reassurance in the smallest gesture.
Nancy feels it then. The way the world steadies. The way her chest loosens, like she’s been holding her breath for days without realizing it. She leans in, just a little more, letting the kiss deepen naturally. Not hurried. Not desperate. Just present.
Oh my god.
Robin's lips is softer than she thought it be, in the best way. Nancy feels butterflies erupting in the pit of her stomach. Her reaches her free hand up and rest it as Robin's waist.
Robin’s lips curve faintly against hers, something like relief blooming there. She shifts closer, close enough that Nancy can feel the warmth of her, the familiar scent of soap and something sweet from the bodega clinging to her jacket. It feels achingly domestic, achingly real.
The kiss was sweet and soft but sure. An action for the words Nancy couldn't get in.
Nancy pulls back a fraction, forehead resting against Robin’s, eyes still closed.
“I like you,” she breathes, the words finally easy. “I just didn’t know what it meant yet. I was scared it would mean everything all at once.”
Robin laughs softly, breath warm between them, eyes shining.
“Yeah,” she admits. “I fully spiralled.”
“We both did.” laughs Robin.
That breaks something open. Nancy smiles, a real one, the kind she hasn’t felt in a week. She squeezes Robin’s hand, fingers threading together this time, deliberate and sure.
Robin squeezes back.
“Whatever this means,” Robin says quietly, earnest as ever, “it can mean it slowly. I’m not going anywhere. I just want you. In my life.”
Nancy leans in again, this time without hesitation. Robin’s hands are on either side of her jaw, creasing her face gently. She kisses Nancy hard in return. Like it’s something she’s wanted to do for a long time. Nancy’s world spins.
To be kissed like this feels so different than anything she's known before. Someone she genuinely has feeling for, having genuine feelings for her too. Wanting and knowing exactly how they feel about you and you them.
Nancy finally got a taste.
It tastes like relief. Like warmth. Like the beginning of something she’s finally ready to let herself want. A feeling she wishes to hold, and feel for as long as she can.
A taste of life, right there on her lips.
They spent the next 2 hours sitting on Nancy's bed, holding hands, catching each other up on what the other had missed in the last few weeks. Occasionally blushing when they felt the other staring too long.
Robin realizes how dark it's gotten and remembers her bodega bag sitting by the door.
“I would absolutely love to stay here and talk with you all night but I don't want you to get sick of me just yet,” Robin's jokes. She gives Nancy's hand a gentle squeeze, looking at the older girl.
“I don't think that's something that can happen,” Nancy reassures, ”We have in fact stayed up talking many times.” Robin nods in agreement.
“Right, and somehow you still managed to fall for me.” She teases, eyes gleaming.
Nancy leans close, resting her jaw of her free hand. She's mesmerized by Robin's crystal blue eyes.
“Maybe that's exactly how I fell for you,” Nancy feels the heat rising to her face as she realizes what she said aloud.
Robin can't help but chuckle at how adorable it is seeing Nancy like this.
“So,” Robin starts off, “Do you wanna get coffee tomorrow morning?”
Nancy nods in obvious agreement, “Of course.”
“Amazing , it's a date!”
~
Mike tells Will the second he gets to their shared apartment.
He doesn’t even take his jacket off, just drops his keys on the table and says, “So. Robin caught up to Nancy.”
Will looks up from his sketchbook so fast his pencil skids across the page. “What do you mean caught up.”
“I mean bodega bag, power-walking straight towards Nancy,” Mike says. “I caught a glimse of her in the rearview mirror.”
Will’s stomach does a slow, anxious flip. “Okay,” he fretted. “Okay.”
They pretend to do normal things for exactly twenty minutes.
Mike paces. Will rearranges his art supplies three times. At some point Mike checks the clock and blurts, “It’s been an hour,” like that means anything at all.
“Don’t rush her,” Will stressed, even though his knee is bouncing.
Another hour passes.
Finally, Mike grabs the phone. “I’m calling her.”
Nancy answers on the second ring.
“Hey,” she says.
That’s it. Just one word, but it’s lighter somehow. Brighter. Like she’s smiling while saying it.
Will and Mike exchange a look.
“You’re smiling,” Will blurts out, leaning toward the phone.
There’s a pause on the other end, and then a soft laugh. “Is it that obvious?”
“Yes,” Mike remarks immediately. “Painfully obvious. We’ve been spiralling for two hours.”
“I made popcorn,” Will adds. “And then forgot to eat it.”
Nancy laughs again, and this time it’s unmistakable. Warm, full, like something finally clicked into place.
“So,” Mike prods, trying for casual and failing. “You want to, uh. Tell us what happened?”
Nancy exhales, long and shaky in a way that sounds like relief. “She… caught me before I went inside. She thought she’d made everything awkward. She thought she ruined our friendship.”
Will closes his eyes.
“And?” he asks gently.
“And she started apologizing,” Nancy says. “Like, rambling. A lot. About missing me. About how she talked to you, Will. About how she noticed I was gone.”
Will nods as if Nancy can see him.
Nancy’s voice softens. “She said she had this huge crush on me. That she thought I might feel the same, and then she convinced herself she imagined it.”
There’s a beat of silence.
“Well,” Mike says carefully. “Did you?”
“Yes,” Nancy replied, without hesitation this time. “I do.”
Will smiles so hard it almost hurts.
“And?” Mike presses. “Please tell me you didn’t just… stand there.”
Nancy laughs, a little embarrassed now. “I kissed her.”
Both of them lose it.
“You kissed her,” Mike repeats, stunned and delighted. “Nancy Wheeler.”
“I know,” she says. “I know.” Her cheeks are flushed red and ache from smiling but she cannot
“How was it,” Will asks, quieter. “How did it feel?”
Nancy thinks about it. About how Robin softened. About how everything stopped buzzing for once.
“Like I stopped being scared,” she says finally. “Like I didn’t have to run anymore.”
There’s a pause, then Mike clears his throat. “I’m really proud of you,” he says. “For what it’s worth.”
“Me too,” Will adds. “And… she’s good, Nance. She’ll go at your pace.”
“I know,” Nancy says. “She told me that. She just wants me in her life.”
Mike grins. “So. What’s next?”
“Already planned,” Nancy says, smiling so wide they can hear it. “Tomorrow.”
When they hang up, Will leans back against the couch, lighter than he’s felt in weeks.
“She’s happy,” he observes.
“Yeah,” Mike replies. “She really is.”
And for the first time in a long time, none of them are worried about what comes next.
~
The next morning feels different in a way Nancy can’t quite explain.
Lighter. Like the air has shifted overnight and no one told her why.
She gets to the coffee shop early, nerves buzzing under her skin, fingers wrapped too tightly around her phone. She tells herself this is ridiculous. They’ve known each other for years. They literally kissed last night. Softly. Slowly. Like neither of them wanted to spook the moment.
Still, when the bell above the door rings and Robin walks in, Nancy’s heart does that thing again.
Robin spots her immediately. Her face brightens, unguarded, a little shy in a way Nancy’s never seen before. She tucks her hair behind her ear as she approaches, like she’s suddenly aware of her own hands.
“Hey,” Robin says.
“Hey,” Nancy answers, smiling before she can stop herself.
They hover for a second, both unsure, then Robin gestures toward the counter. “Coffee first?”
Nancy nods. “Yeah. Definitely coffee.”
They order the same things they always do. Robin’s an Americano. Nancy’s a Latte. It feels grounding, comforting, like a reminder that this didn’t come out of nowhere. That it grew here.
They sit by the window. Sunlight spills across the table, catching on the rim of Nancy’s mug. Robin keeps glancing at her like she’s checking to make sure Nancy is still real.
“So,” Robin starts, wrapping her hands around her cup. “I feel like there’s… a lot I probably should’ve said sooner.”
Nancy tilts her head in curiosity. “Like what?”
Robin laughs, soft and self-conscious. “Like the fact that I have absolutely been in love with you for a stupidly long time.”
Nancy’s breath catches, not in fear this time, but something warmer. “Robin.”
“I mean,” Robin continues, words tumbling now that she’s started, “not dramatically. Or… well, okay, maybe dramatically. But quietly. I kept almost telling you. Like, so many times.” She smiles a little at the memory. “Every time you did that thing where you’d lean into me when you were tired? Or when you asked me to walk you back after class even though you were perfectly capable?”
Nancy presses her lips together, heart thudding.
“And every time you dated a guy,” Robin adds, gentler now, “I’d tell myself I was being ridiculous. That this was just how friendship works. But I also couldn’t stop thinking that I could’ve treated you better. That I already was, in every way I knew how.”
Nancy blinks, emotion creeping up on her. “I don’t think anyone’s ever thought about me like that.”
Robin's expression softens. “Well. I have.”
Nancy ducks her head, smiling, then looks back up. “I feel a little ridiculous.”
“Why?”
“I keep rethinking everything,” Nancy admits. “And realizing I didn’t just like you as a friend. I just didn’t have the language for it yet.”
Robin’s smile reaches her eyes. “You do now.”
Their fingers drift together on the tabletop, tentative at first. Nancy initiates it this time, reaching for Robin’s hand. Robin freezes for half a second, then curls her hand around Nancy’s like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Nancy feels something settle in her chest with a smile she couldn’t hide, even if she wanted to.
After that, everything feels easier.
They walk to class together, hands linked, neither of them making a big deal of it. Robin swings their joined hands slightly as they go. Nancy lets her.
In the hallway, Robin leans in and presses a quick kiss to Nancy’s temple before darting off to her lecture, grinning over her shoulder like she can’t believe she gets to do that now. Nancy stands there for a second, dazed, fingers still warm where Robin held them.
Later, they meet up again outside.
They sprawl in the grass between buildings, backpacks abandoned, shoulders pressed together. Clouds drift overhead, slow and lazy. Robin points out shapes, narrating them like a story only she’s telling.
Nancy listens, then turns her head.
She watches the way the sunlight catches in Robin’s hair. The way her eyes crinkle when she smiles. The way she looks relaxed in a way Nancy realizes she’s always wanted to be around her.
“I think,” Nancy says suddenly, “I like girls.”
Robin freezes. Then she bursts out laughing, pure and delighted, turning onto her side to face her. “Full circle moment, huh?”
Nancy laughs too, shaking her head. “I feel like I should’ve figured this out sooner.”
Robin reaches up, brushing her thumb across Nancy’s jaw. “You figured it out exactly when you were supposed to.”
Nancy leans in. Their kiss this time is unhurried. Gentle. The kind that lingers, like neither of them is in a rush to get anywhere else.
When they pull back, Robin rests her forehead against Nancy’s. “I’m really glad it’s you.”
They lie there a while longer, hands tangled, watching the sky change shape above them.
Naturally, they start spending more time together.
It isn’t something either of them plans. It just happens. Conversations linger. Walks stretch longer than necessary. They begin building their days around each other without ever saying that’s what they’re doing.
They fall into a routine of small things. Making time. Saving seats. Bringing each other coffee without being asked. Affection becomes easy and unforced. Nancy reaches for Robin’s hand without thinking. Robin rests her head on Nancy’s shoulder like it’s always belonged there.
Afternoons come first.
Study sessions that turn into shared headphones and knees tucked together on the dorm floor. Robin slides her notes toward Nancy, already knowing which parts she’ll need. Nancy learns which mug Robin always reaches for when she’s tired. Robin learns when Nancy needs quiet more than reassurance.
They don’t rush to name anything.
There are late-night diner runs with Mike and Will, cramped booths and shared fries, Mike and Will sharing looks when Nancy and Robin lean into each other. There are afternoons sprawled on the grass, all four of them talking about classes and music and nothing important. Will smiles to himself a lot. Mike checks in with Nancy using a look instead of words.
Time passes gently.
There are still moments where Nancy pauses, catching herself in the middle of happiness, half-expecting it to disappear. Robin meets those moments with patience. She never pushes. She stays close. She lets Nancy move at her own pace.
Some days end with laughter and quick kisses. Others with kisses that linger, soft and careful, like they’re still learning. Each one teaches Nancy something new. That wanting doesn’t have to be terrifying. That love doesn’t have to arrive all at once to be real.
A couple months go by almost unnoticed.
And somewhere between shared mornings and borrowed sweaters, between inside jokes and the way Robin always reaches for her first in a crowded room, Nancy understands it clearly.
She’s fallen in love with her.
The certainty doesn’t rush her. It settles. Warm and steady.
So one afternoon, sitting on the grass with Robin’s head resting against her shoulder, Mike and Will nearby lost in a conversation, Nancy takes a breath.
“Hey,” she says, fingers threading through Robin’s.
“Do you want to be my girlfriend?”
Robin’s smile is immediate. Soft. Certain.
“I thought you already were,” she says, leaning in to kiss her.
Life keeps moving. Classes. Deadlines. Family calls.
But threaded through it now is something solid. A love that grew quietly, patiently, and on purpose.
Nancy used to think love would arrive like a revelation.
Now she knows it arrives like this.
Slow. Chosen.
And real.