Chapter Text
Will Byers is a good son. He has always been well behaved and never spoke out of place. Helps around the house as much as he can and goes to church every sunday with his mom. He doesn’t believe a single word pastor Henry preaches but he does think the man has the perfect cheekbones for him to sketch.
“Your eye candy-ing your pastor, Will? That’s sacrilegious, even for you!”
“Shut up, Robin!”
He tries to get along with his mom’s new boyfriend, Hopper, the town’s chief of police but he’s just as good at making conversation with him as he is talking to girls. It usually pivots towards hunting, the only thing they have in common, apparently. Something to thank Will’s poor excuse scum of a father.
They both not so secretly hate it. But at the same time, they both would do anything to make Joyce happy. A somewhat middle ground. For now, that is.
Will Byers is a good brother. He has always been supportive of Johnathan’s passion and creativity and one of a kind vision. Pushing him to pursue opportunities he constantly thought were way out of his league, which lead to him proudly participating later on in little photography and filmmaking pet projects of his.
And if he had caught him smoking pot once or twice— four times, it was four times, and he kept the secret, even from Jonathan himself, no one needed to know.
Last but not least, Will Byers is a good friend. The best one. The bestest, some might say, actually.
Which is why he’s currently spending his weekend eve driving his mom’s shitty car to the Wheeler’s house. On a night that he wasn’t supposed to, mind you. Not that he had any other plans but, you know.
We’re getting side tracked. Whatever.
Robin just started seeing this girl she has had a crush on what felt like forever now. The beautiful, the cunning, the charming. The one and only. Nancy Wheeler.
Who, according to Robin, became much of a regular customer at Scoops Ahoy around a month before Steve and herself were eventually fired for not taking their job seriously— whatever that meant, and giving away way too many free samples.
Or, as Robin so elegantly put it,
"Steve, you can’t whore out ice cream.”
“Watch me. Ahoy there, ladies!”
She never let herself get too hopeful about it. Too afraid whatever pseudo friendship— if you could call it that at Nancy ordering and Robin biting her tongue so hard she could taste blood not to tell her her hair looked so so pretty today and also maybe ask her hand in marriage— she and Nancy had going on might turn into something like what they referred to as The Tammy Thomsom incident.
Cue the war flashbacks.
So, yeah. Nancy probably just really liked ice cream. Nancy probably was just being nice. Nancy probably just had a crush on Steve.
Nothing soul crushing and heart wrenching about that. Life goes on. People move on.
That was until one faithful day, Robin was waiting for Will and Steve at the Mall while playing thumb war with herself— and winning, when someone taps on her shoulder. Finally.
“Didn’t you guys know it is rude to make a lady wait? Unbelievable.”
“I almost didn’t recognize you without your uniform.”
Suddenly Robin wants to die because that someone not only isn’t Steve or Will but Nancy fucking Wheeler. Oh my God. What is Nancy doing here? Smiling and talking to her. Unsolicited and unscripted.
I mean, sure it’s a public space and a free country and whatever but, still. What are the chances?
“Heard about Scoops tho, sorry.” She gives her a small shurgh and Robin feels like putting her in her pocket. Protect her from the world. Tries not to picture Nancy going to the ice cream shop asking about her.
The hidden implication of it. Devastating and unnecessary.
“Oh, don’t worry about me,” Robin rushes to make her happy again, even when she isn’t cracking silly jokes behind the counter anymore. Some second nature, force of habit. She wonders if Nancy knows the power she has over her. “I already have a new job and it’s better than what I could ever dream of.”
Nancy’s lips curl at the corner and Robin feels like doing something stupid. “Oh, I know. Rockin’ Robin.”
Robin stops dead in her tracks. Her cheeks feel warm, her skin tight. Oh God, has Nancy been listening to her? “You—?”
“Yeah, I mean, my brother was skipping through channels the other day, thought I heard a familiar voice.” Suddenly Nancy looks shy, tucking one of her perfect curls behind her ear and shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Once, twice. “You’re good. Great, actually.”
Oh, Robin Buckley is a weak weak woman alright.
“I could show you around the studio one day, if you’d like.”
A silence charged of hesitation, longing, hope, and then,
“I’d love that, yeah.”
That day Robin walked out the Mall wearing the Wheeler’s house phone number written on her hand like a gold medal.
Okay, so maybe Nancy didn’t have a crush on Steve.
But Nancy wasn’t out to her family. Robin used to joke about how sometimes it seemed like she wasn’t out to even herself.
But it wasn’t a joke, not really. Both Will and Steve knew this. They just silently shared looks and let Robin vent till she eventually passed out on Steve’s bed. What she did best. Besides picking a good record for a road trip.
Now, what she was awful at, besides keeping her attention focused on something beyond a three minutes mark, was driving. Absolute safety hazard for everyone involved. Will is a first row witness.
Although victim or survivor just might be a better word to describe the experience as a whole.
But since she insisted on not wanting to seem like a complete loser in front of her fingers crossed potential girlfriend, Steve and him came up with a shared custody agenda where they took turns driving her around.
Will was never having kids. Unrelated, of course.
Tonight was Steve’s night— he’s sure, he checked at least four times, which meant Will could finally finish that painting he’s been looking forward to the whole week.
That was until his house’s phone rang.
“Heeey buddy, you’re not gonna believe this.” The increasing pitch on Steve’s voice could only mean trouble, he knew this much.
Will could only roll his eyes, throwing his paint covered rag over his shoulder. Hand already on his hip like a magnet, ready to listen to whatever excuse his best friend was about to come up with at the other side of the line.
“Oh yeah? Try me.”
Of course Steve Harrington of all people had a last minute date on a friday night. And of course he was going to ask Will to cover up for him this one time while he went out with a girl. A girl he insisted on keeping a secret ‘not to jinx it’. Whatever that meant.
Will could have hung up the phone, pretend the call never happened and ended things right there and then.
But the thing is, Will loved Robin way too much to say no. The other thing was, Will also loved Steve way too much to say no.
He just hates how the situation does a really good job at reminding him how chronically and tragically single he currently is. Not that it is his friends’ fault, of course. Will just wishes they’d stop accidentally rubbing salt on the wound.
And like, he gets it. Hawkins is small— maybe too small even, for his liking, and in retrograde.
It’s not like one day he’s going to open the door to the love of his life. And until that happens, he’s stuck here, outside the Wheeler’s porch on a friday night.
Like he has for the last fifteen minutes. Sigh. It’s his first time there. The last two times he had to pick up Robin were at an aquarium— he’s not jealous at all, why you ask? and at the library— honestly, who is this Nancy girl?
Will practically deflates in his seat, looking at his watch again. He’s gonna have to get out of the car isn’t he?
He fixes his fringe in the rear view mirror, making himself somewhat presentable. Looks for possible paint smudges on his face— it happened once and he intends to keep it that way. Thank God he’s wearing one of his good shirts.
The blue one that always makes Steve’s mom pinch his cheeks and call him ‘handsome’ whenever he drops by the Harrington’s household.
He thinks of Steve again and slams the door of the car maybe a little harder than he should. Stupid Steve. Stupid Steve and his stupid date. Stupid Steve and his stupid hair and stupid ass that probably got him that date.
God, Robin better be so ready to go.
Will kicks the air. Will rings the doorbell of the Wheeler’s house and waits. Will Byers is a good friend.
“Coming!”
Will blinks once, twice. Well, that for sure wasn’t Nancy.
“Hey!” Robin‘s voice startles him from above, like God himself on judgment day. Takes him a second to realize she’s whisper-shouting from what Will quickly guesses is the window of Nancy’s bedroom. Lucky bastard. He really couldn’t wait for this night to be over. “Where's Stevie?”
Exactly, thank you.
“Your precious Stevie ditched you to go—“
Any possible petty brain activity Will could aspire to achieve dying the moment the prettiest boy he has ever seen opens the door.
“Fuck.”