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Lesbians were predatory, intimidating and sinful. They took advantage of unsuspecting women and invaded their spaces in ways creepy men could only dream of doing themselves. Even the way they carried themselves - dared to even exist - reeked with sin and corruption. They coerced, terrorized and extorted poor defenseless women into becoming like them.
Some were put on Earth as a test by God Himself; others were spawns of the devil, sent there directly from Hell. Others had failed the test, good girls that had fallen on the path of sin, or been manipulated into joining the devil themselves.
The sympathy for these girls was mixed; some said their faith was weak and flaky in the first place, nothing but a thin veneer put forward to trick people. The kinder people shook their heads and lamented their lack of will, how they’d fallen victim to the devil. The saints - the ones that would so surely fall into God’s favor - even prayed for them, deserved or not.
Robin Buckley was meek, awkward and naive. She always made a point of turning away if a girl’s skirt so much as rode slightly up her thigh and kept her head down in the high school changing rooms. She had trouble making friends, and gave up entirely at one point. There was no reason to keep stumbling over her words to be met with blank stares and slightly mocking frowns.
She wasn’t exactly the picture of a perfect christian but she believed in God. She believed in Him - even if she wasn’t sure God would be a Him or not - firmly and loved Him the way she’d never loved anything before. Her faith was what she turned to when things got hard. She prayed regularly and made sure to take extra care of the things around her; they were, in the end, on the same level as her - His creation - and were deserving of the same respect, or at least that’s what she thought.
Sure, her faith was a bit more abstract than that of most but she went to Church. She didn’t follow the rules exactly but she made sure to care for the world around her - not out of obligation but out of respect, love . She prayed (it felt like telling someone she was okay). She still went to Church, read the bible, and avoided sinning. She wasn’t the perfect christian, not guiding herself completely by her religion but for her, it was enough. It was respectable.
She was respectable.
Lesbians weren’t respectable. They didn’t have faith, or a God, or anything remotely as pure as her genuine love. It wasn’t possible, she reasoned, they were supposed to be sinful and wrong . A test, people said, to see who was genuinely good. They were sent by the devil.
So why did Robin feel this inexplicably deep, ingrained need to hold a girls’ hands. To kiss them - she often imagined if girls’ lips would taste like their chapstick - softly. Robin wanted to care for them and hold them, she wanted to protect them and play with their unequivocally soft hair. A more selfish part of her wished a girl did something similar for her.
Romantic love was the purest form of affection between two people. That’s what her parents had said when she was seven, looking at them with her big, innocent eyes and declaring she loved Barbara Holland with her whole entire heart. They had laughed in her face.
“Oh, Birdie,” Robin had come to despise that nickname somewhere down the line, not by then, though, she just grinned at her mom that time, “you’re so funny.”
“But why?” She had asked, confused. “It’s true.” (It was!)
“Listen, kid.” Her father’s voice was soft and her mother was still giggling, but Robin had never been a dumb kid. Whatever they were saying, they were serious. “The purest form of love between human beings is romantic.”
“Then I love Barb in a romantic way!” She declared, happy they’d cleared the whole thing up.
Her mom’s laughter suddenly ceased, both wrinkled their brows. It made them look serious and worried, which they rarely were. The gesture made Robin frown too. “Romantic love can only be between a man and a woman, understand? Like crushes. It’s just what God intended.”
Robin nodded, not knowing why she felt like she wanted to cry after that but knowing her parents wouldn’t steer her wrong. She never said anything about loving a girl ever again. (After all, she was a good, christian girl and it simply wasn’t what God intended.)
Until she was fifteen and Tammy Thompson smiled at her, white and toothy. Her blonde hair was teased and created a sort of halo, framing her face. Her cheeks were soft pink, like she’d been in the sun a little too long but it brought out the light freckles dusting her face, so Robin thought she looked like an angel. Her stomach did weird little flips and she spent the rest of the class in a weird balance between staring intently and looking in all directions but at her .
The next day, she hoped and begged and pleaded, but Tammy didn’t smile at her ever again. Instead, she looked at fucking Steve Harrington , who was probably the biggest douchebag to exist. It didn’t even matter, anyway, because everyone knew he was utterly in love with prissy, little Nancy Wheeler.
It took her a couple of months for her to realize what all the feelings that swirled inside her during that semester even meant. When she did, it felt like her heart was sculpted glass that fell off its ill-positioned place on the highest shelf. Surely, she wasn’t a… Surely she wasn’t gay.
She couldn’t be, it was simply impossible. Robin Buckley believed in God, she was good, she didn't sin. Maybe this was some sort of weird test? But how could that be? Why was she being tested? People like her didn’t get these kinds of tests because there was no doubt she was a good person, it was obvious.
It felt like a punishment. That felt even stupider to consider. She couldn’t understand what she was even being punished for, she didn’t think she had anything worth this kind of punishment. Briefly, she considered if that was it, maybe she was just too vain. Maybe this was some sort of wake up call, a way to bring her back down to Earth.
It still felt way too cruel.
She prayed, like she often did, she prayed it away the best she could. She tried so hard but she met Vickie Ryans and she knew for sure it didn't work. The thought made her angry. She had tried, she genuinely had. It wasn’t fair ! This wasn’t supposed to happen! Hadn’t she had enough?
On the nights she crawled into herself, a tight little ball, she somehow understood it wasn’t enough. Those nights she dreamt of fear and rejection. She dreamt of Hell, pretending she hadn’t seen it already.
She wasn’t even sure where she stood on christianity - on God - after that. She didn’t see how a benevolent ruler would let that happen, how he’d punish her for no apparent reason. It felt like a slap in the face, like being stabbed in the back. Her devotion had been scorned. The more rational part of her knew it probably had nothing to do with any of that but she was so very tired, and she found anger was easier to feel than grief.
She had so much to grieve already, anyway. She wasn’t exactly thrilled to add her lost self of identity and faith to that list. Instead, she closed her eyes and hoped Barb was somewhere better. She hoped Barb had found peace. The peace she’d been chasing her whole life, ever since she was seven and told her parents she loved her. (It had been true, she knew it, even now, years later.)
When she opened them again she would usually see Steve Harrington. Hating him felt ridiculous now. Sometimes, the thought of it made her laugh out loud, a bubbly and choked sound that made him turn to her, curiously. Usually she just shook her head and smiled. She’d tell her about all of this, though, some day, she trusted him. It felt nice to trust someone the way she trusted Steve.
After spring break, Robin found herself with two more friends. They were almost as close as Steve and felt like a family. The thought of a family like them made her want to cry. Most important of all, they knew about her, they knew what she was - she still couldn’t quite say anything beyond gay or queer - and didn’t care. They were actually like her ; the thought made her feel warm.
(Something about it solidified the growing belief constricting her chest and twisting her heart. God wasn’t real. Her faith had been stupid and harmful. She knew this because it was simply impossible for a god to punish Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson and Nancy Wheeler like that. If anything, they deserved a prize of some sort.
Later on, she’d think maybe the prize was finding each other but she wasn’t there yet.)
In May, Robin Buckley said the word lesbian out loud for the first time, and got a girlfriend. All within the same breath while Steve and Eddie cheered happily in the background because they had no sense of personal space of boundaries.
Nancy’s lips tasted like strawberry and Robin was delighted to find out that her younger self had been right because it was the flavor of the chapstick she’d bought her the previous month. (The fact that she wore it made her even happier.)
When Nancy Wheeler kissed Robin Buckley, she became an atheist.
Her lips were soft and moved methodically against hers and she knew, then, it wasn’t wrong. Nothing about what they had was wrong in any capacity. They worked too well, the whole thing felt too good and too rewarding for it to be anything but fate. There was no godly test and no devil, there was just Nancy Wheeler and the inherent intimacy of her hands pressed against her neck.
When the both of them started dating, she’d been over the moon. It was truly amazing, how someone could fit so well with her and love her so much. Her parents had been right, all those years ago, the purest form of love was romantic. But it wasn’t between a man and a woman, it was between her and Nancy.
Some part of her still probably had its doubts but she shoved that down and away from her. It was impossible to deny there was something electric and meant-to-be between the both of them, and while she missed what she once thought she believed, all of that disappeared when Nancy’s fingers traced the lines on her hips.
Steve and Eddie got together soon after, through not-quite dates and rushed confessions. Robin was happy for them. She’d never seen her best friend look so happy. Some part of her felt stung at the fact that she’d never gotten a joy so pure out of him but then she remembered her mother’s words and it went away. It was just how things worked.
It was how she thought they were, anyway.
Until she had her first fight with Nancy and her first conversation about religion with Steve. The world felt like it had been flipped on its axis, then. Something wasn’t right. It almost felt like before, except it didn’t. She’d never go back to how she was before she turned fifteen and she knew it. But it wasn’t like when she’d kissed Nancy either, it was new and terrifying. She didn’t know if she wanted to explore it, this time, not wanting to get her heart broken again.
Nancy declared herself agnostic and denied loving Robin in the same breath. Looking back, it probably created a weird association in her head, the kind that didn’t even make that much sense and was mostly just detrimental to herself. She wasn’t sure how it had turned into a fight, but she knew one thing for certain, it was based entirely on the resentment she’d built up.
She left Nancy’s house in a rush that night, rubbing her eyes furiously and trying not to cry. Her girlfriend called after her but she shook her head and willed herself to walk faster down the street. She was being stupid and immature, she wasn’t even sure if she was crying about the god that was dead to her or the growing insecurity that her girlfriend didn’t love her at all.
She still wasn’t sure when she finally got to Steve’s house. The walk had probably been just over five minutes but had felt like five hours to her. The air had turned thick and liquid, filling her lungs in a desperate effort to drown her. She told herself that was why she was hyperventilating; her watery eyes weren’t helping at all. The air turned back to normal when Steve opened the door and pulled her in, looking at her with all the love in the world.
That night, she curled into him, like she’d done into her pillow so many years prior, and let herself be held. She deserved it, at least on some level. It turned out, the boy had his own mixed experiences with religion but mostly, he found himself lost and uncertain. He just said he was open to the idea of God but didn’t know what he believed. He’d comforted her the whole night when the topic shifted to Nancy.
Robin wanted to kiss him.
She knew, then, that the purest form of affection wasn’t romantic. It couldn’t be when the idea of kissing Steve Harrington made her feel nauseous but when he held her she felt like not even Vecna could touch her. Whatever it was they had, it ran so much deeper and purer than anything romantic. She loved Steve with her whole entire heart, and she found it was probably the most perfect form of love, the one between them.
His bedroom wall was white and the paint was starting to chip, she was worried it would crack and fall in her eye, though she guessed it wouldn’t even be that catastrophic. She stared at it for most of the night and found herself wishing she was in love with him, instead. It would be so easy, she knew.
She’d want to kiss him, genuinely, not in the fake, secretive way she’d wanted to kiss him that night. The thought would make her feel fluttery, and she’d genuinely say that romantic love was the purest form of affection. It would be easy, she mused, oh so easy, to be Steve’s girl. He’d treat her like a princess and she’d kiss the corners of his lips, while counting the freckles in his hazel brown eyes.
The thought made her chest ache and fill, at the same time. Part of it was just a genuine rush of affection for the boy, she knew she loved him in a different way to anything else in her life. It was love so strong it was a physical feeling and she liked how it made everything feel tighter, leaving no crevices inside of her. The ache she recognized as longing, a deep yearn for something she’d never have.
It would be so easy, she thought, to fall in love with her best friend. They’d be so perfect together. She could still be a christian, she could still be good, and she could still be happy. Steve would make her laugh, she’d make him laugh, it had been a while since she’d made Nancy laugh. Really, what more could she ask for?
Desperately, she pulled on whatever trace of hope was left in her. She pulled at that old, dead string and pulled herself up in a prayer. Maybe when she woke up all that would come true. She knew it wouldn’t.
She was woken up with a kiss at her temple and a fresh batch of pancakes set on the table. Steve was in a blue plaid pajama and a top that was a bit too short and too tight for him, which is how she knew it was hers. He smiled at her sleepily over breakfast, humming and closing his eyes at all the right parts - like when the sun lit his face through the kitchen window -; a picture of perfect domesticity.
It made her cry.
“What’s wrong, Robbie?”
“Why can’t I just be in love with you ?” She blurted out.
Steve looked at her sadly. She felt his sympathy and melancholy roll off him in equal amounts. It felt so nice to be understood the way he understood her. With his arms wrapped around her, she sent out another desperate prayer she didn’t believe in: for it to work out with Nancy .
Nancy showed up knocking at the Harringtons’ door a couple of hours later and Robin wondered if god existed after all. Maybe Nancy had a point somewhere in there, something she refused to listen to. It wouldn’t have surprised her, considering all the screaming. The fight in itself had been too immature for anyone to actually listen.
They made up on Steve’s couch and Nancy held her hand the whole time. They talked about insecurities, communication, love, and faith. Robin felt like there was some sort of glass barrier that had been lifted between them. She felt like something was clearer, even if she wasn’t sure what it was. She was struck by how lucky she was to have someone like Nancy in her life.
Maybe god wasn’t so false or cruel, after all.
The next two months were spent researching exhaustively at any library she could find that had anything on theology. She learned about early interpretations and manipulations of the bible, as well as early stories that had been cut out or modified. She learned about other religions, and historical context. The way she viewed religion shifted, guided by Nancy’s soft reassurances.
She saw a problem with people manipulating religion that she didn’t see with god.
She went down to the forest, one night, to sit down by the river and soak under the moonlight. The whole thing felt kind of unhinged but she couldn’t find herself to care. Something about how everything around her was alive brought her a deep sense of comfort that settled on her very bones. She was even sure a fish swam by her hand when she dipped it into the cold water of the stream next to her.
She couldn’t even remember how long she spent there, sleeping and waking up, comfortably leaning into the nook of a tree - the tree seemed to lean into her too - and closing her eyes to listen. Morning came at one point, accompanied by the soft singing of birds and the movement of the forest around her; it seemed to come to life with the sun.
Looking around her, she couldn’t fathom even thinking about believing in a cruel, merciless God. The thought was ridiculous. Everything around her was alive, it was Holy; it almost felt like the world had synched itself to the beat of her heart, or maybe it had been the other way around.
That morning, when she got home, she felt like a person again. What previously felt constricting, now felt like sweet, familiar hope. Nancy didn’t ask where she’d been and Robin knew she didn’t have to tell her. (She knew she’d probably tell them all anyway, one day.) Instead, her girlfriend smiled and placed a cup of coffee in front of her.
Robin smiled, the corner of her eyes folding, and leaned into her wife. When she kissed Nancy Wheeler, Robin Buckley believed in God again. The God of her childhood.
And all the learning and unlearning she had left? She’d go slow.