Chapter Text
There were some things that you only reacted to if they somehow were something you had experienced yourself. To anyone else, they might as well be nothing. Robin knew this well. She had spent 18 years trying to find signs her whole life, and she very seldom had.
Maybe she had seen them in Vickie, who she had spent more time with lately, at the shelter. She wasn’t very sure, because she had tricked herself into believing it prior and then being kicked out of her orbit upon seeing the redhead kissing a guy at the gun shop, but Steve was adamant he was right — just like he had been before. Robin didn’t want to hope, she didn’t want her heart broken, but she couldn’t stop herself from the yearning. Not when Vickie was the one to seek out her companionship.
But yeah, Robin figured that had to take a backseat in her life, seeing as the end of the fucking world was upon them. She didn’t want to pull Vickie into it either. She did promise herself, though, that if she survived, she would ask Vickie out. And judging by the googly eyes Vickie shot her — Steve’s words, not hers — maybe Vickie wouldn’t mind?
Still, it wasn’t a priority. Just a sub-priority.
It was really crazy that chief Hopper had come back from the dead, from being in a fucking prison in Russia, and that the Byers and El were back too. El had apparently recovered her powers, and Robin didn’t see her much outside of their meetings. The girl remained behind closed doors to find signs of Henry, or to find Max’s consciousness.
Just like the last few times, El hadn’t been successful on either of those.
“I can’t find Henry”, she said in a flat voice, sitting pressed against Hopper on the sofa. “It seems he is hiding. It took him a lot of power to cause the drift between the worlds”.
She said nothing about Max, but Robin figured that said everything. Lucas had yet to join them on a meeting, still sitting by her comatose body in the hospital.
It was unsettling, like the calm before the storm, and Robin leaned more against the wall. She didn’t know how El could do this at fourteen, when she was scared shitless at 18. Not for the first time, she wondered if she truly could bring anything to the team. What was she but 5”7 inches of pure anxiety?
She let her gaze flicker over the room as people started talking inside the cabin, not really listening anymore. She knew no one really expected her to say anything in the first place. And, even if it was the calm before the storm, she would enjoy that solitude as much as she could.
She could hear Nancy Wheeler say something, from where she was positioned on a chair next to her boyfriend — poor Steve, she couldn’t help but think — but she didn’t really listen. If it was anything important, Steve would fill her in. Instead she just looked around, thinking that this could actually be one of the last times she saw some of these people. Or that they saw her. Sure, she didn’t really know anyone but Steve, but she had come to like Nancy, and she supposed she did by definition see Dustin enough to be acquainted. She didn’t want to think about Eddie Munson.
Joyce Byers was a really interesting woman, and Robin couldn’t believe she had been to Russia, too. The man with the beard — Murray? — was a bit weird, but weirder so were the Russian men accompanying the trio of Hopper, Joyce Byers and Murray.
She didn’t know Jonathan Byers, although she had heard of him, and not only from the group. The Byers were kinda infamous, after all. His friend, Argyle, was kinda nonsensical, and he smelled of pot, but he seemed fine.
Mike Wheeler was sitting on the sofa next to his girlfriend, but they had quite the space between them. He had kept throwing glances at the girl all throughout the meeting, but she hadn’t met it even once. Robin supposed she, too, felt romance wasn’t a priority in this situation.
She moved her gaze one last time, and let it rest on Will Byers, who was standing against the wall on the opposite of the room. She didn’t know him either, he hadn’t been close to Steve, but of course she knew of him, too. He was too staring at El, she saw.
Robin was about to force herself to actually focus, when she paused, and looked at him again. Actually, though… was he really looking at El?
Robin furrowed her brows, and tried to follow his gaze. He didn’t really look like he was focusing either, with his dark under eye-circles and lips pressed together, eyes looking zoned off from where she was standing. No, he looked completely out of it, almost as if he was in pain, staring at–
Robin’s heartbeats picked up.
Will Byers was not staring at El. He was staring at Mike Wheeler.
Robin couldn’t help the small intake of breath, immediately catching the attention of her best friend.
“You alright, Robin?” He whispered into her ears.
Robin blinked, and turned to him. She was well-aware she had to look crazy, eyes blown wide. But what the fuck?
She swallowed.
“Yeah”, she lied. “Uh, this is just… scary”.
She felt bad about lying, more so at the sad frown forming on Steve’s face. But what could she do? Tell him she thought there was another queer in the group? She could never do that. And she couldn’t be too sure in the first place, after all.
And she supposed she was scared shitless, so it wasn’t too much of a lie.
Steve nodded.
“Yeah”. Then he gave her a small, albeit tense smile. “Glad you’re here, though”.
Robin’s chest grew warm, and she forced whatever she had just seen out of her head. For now, at least.
She elbowed him lightly in the side, but a small smile formed nonetheless.
“Likewise”, she simply said.
They shared another smile, and then they both turned forward. The meeting was coming to an end, and this time when she looked at the youngest Byers, he was staring at his shoes.
Robin’s heart was still beating.
Being back in Hawkins felt like falling asleep and revisiting an old nightmare. Will had truly thought he had gotten away, that he would be able to at least try to form something resembling a normal life.
He should’ve known that was a privilege he wasn’t entitled. Those things didn’t come for him.
And everything was weird. Max was in a coma, and they didn’t know if she’d ever wake up. From Lucas’ hands, he’d gotten a letter, a white envelope that just said Will. He hadn’t opened it. Opening meant admitting it was over, and every time he saw her on the bed, he was brought back to the memory of her, happy and alive, and he kept it hidden in his backpack. He wouldn’t give up on her.
It was hard spending time by her side, but he tried. That was where Lucas was, after all. His bruised face was starting to heal, but when he had told him as much, Lucas hadn’t seemed too happy. Will supposed it reminded him that he was okay, while she was still struggling. Will didn’t mention it again, and just stayed by his side for hours, listening as Lucas read to her.
Dustin spent the most time at the shelter, and it was only when Will took a break with him, that Dustin told him about Eddie Munson. Eddie Munson, the MC of their D&D club, Hellfire, who had died sacrificing himself. For a town that had never shown him that same love. It never did to people who didn’t fit in, after all. Sure, the mention of that club had hurt, especially seeing as they had all been too old for games when Will was still there, but it was not the time nor place for that. Will simply hugged Dustin when he cried. He even managed to make him smile through his tears upon telling him he would’ve liked to meet Eddie, something to which Dustin had responded with ‘he would’ve liked you, y’kno. He was always so curious about Will the Wise. He said the party would have been benefitted by a cleric’. Will had just hugged him closer.
Talking to mum was hard, seeing as she wouldn’t let him out of her sight, unless he stuck with someone else in the group. He understood, but it was suffocating, just like it had been the years prior. Jonathan was hard, too, for several reasons. It was obvious he was struggling with something, and he stayed tight-lipped on whatever it was. Will just understood it as being about Nancy, but when Jonathan shut him down, he didn’t ask again. And also because Jonathan knew. They hadn’t revisited the conversation in the pizzeria kitchen, but nonetheless it made him feel an itch sometimes, the knowledge that Jonathan knew. He didn’t know who he was if he wasn’t in hiding.
He tried his best to be a good brother to El, but it was hard getting through to her. She didn’t push him away when he went to her, but she also wouldn’t let him in. She’d hug him back for a few seconds tops, before pulling back, big eyes just looking at him. He knew she blamed herself for Max’s coma, even if he knew she was the reason why she was still alive. El hadn’t said so, but he knew she had saved her life. She pushed herself fully into finding Max’s consciousness, and Will worried for her. This was too much on her plate, she was too young for this. They all were, but especially her.
And Mike… Mike kept seeking out his company, like they still were like who they had once been. But Will kept him at an arm’s reach, even if he saw the hurt flickering over his best friend’s face each time he got the cold shoulder.
It was too hard, though. Each time Will saw his face, he was reminded of the painting and that he lied. He lied to Mike, and he knew eventually it would all crash and burn. He knew Mike and El weren’t doing well, seeing as El wouldn’t let him in either, seemingly less than she’d let Will, so his own thinly veiled confession just hung in the back of his head.
He just hoped it wouldn’t happen too soon. He wasn’t yet ready to really ruin the best thing he’d ever had, even if it was inevitable at this point. In the midst of it all, he privately wondered if it would be his last straw.