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The world is ending, and all Nancy can think about is the fact that she owes Steve a very similar conversation to the one she had with Jonathan. Well, that's only half true. Her thoughts swirl with worry for her mother and father, for Holly, for the people surrounding her in the back of the delivery truck. Her hands are steady around her gun, but she feels jittery with the knowledge of all they have to do in such a limited amount of time. It seems almost impossible, but they've done the impossible before.
She hopes they can do it again.
At the other end of the truck, Dustin and Steve stand side by side, conversing quietly with a nervous Robin. She leans around Steve, halfway pressed against his side, as she says something to Dustin on his other side. The younger boy chuckles, and Steve rolls his eyes before lightly elbowing Robin out of his space. He looks… happy.
It makes her chest ache.
Steve is a great guy. He deserved better than the ending that she gave them. She still remembers his confession from the year before - still remembers the sad but understanding look on his face when he told her that it was fine before that.
She joked with Jonathan about what Steve confessed to her, and now it tastes like ash on her tongue. She hadn't meant to make fun of what he wanted in life. Nancy had only wanted to make a point to Jonathan that whatever she wanted, it wasn't that.
A warm hand wraps around hers - squeezing her fingers against the butt of her rifle.
“Nance?” Steve's fingers are calloused against her own in an utterly unfamiliar way. The last time he touched her like this, his fingers were still smooth. “You okay?”
She tilts her head back to rest against the wall as she meets his gaze. There's concern and affection on his face as he stares down at her, brow furrowing gently at her silence.
Nancy nods. “Yeah, I'm just - thinking. About things.”
Steve's expression softens into something full of understanding as he nods. “Ah, the familiar Nancy Wheeler thoughts of destruction.”
The laugh that leaves her startles not only them, but the entire truck. Nancy is quick to cover her mouth, blushing at how much attention is suddenly on them, even as her joy settles warm beneath her ribcage. It's the happiest she has felt in a very long time - similar to the moment with Jonathan when she was flooded with relief despite her fear. It almost feels taboo to be laughing here, to feel joy when she knows they're on the edge of something so dangerous, but Steve is grinning as he shifts to lean against the wall of the truck on her right side, giving them the illusion of some privacy in the moment as he crosses his arms loosely across his chest.
“So, anything you'd like to share with the class?” he asks.
Nancy opens her mouth to say no, but then pauses. Her hand slips from her mouth, revealing the tight way she has pressed her lips together. Steve's expression shifts into something slightly more serious as he waits her out.
She misses the warmth of his hand against hers.
“I'm sorry.” The words come out in a rush, tumbling over one another in their haste to be free.
Steve looks utterly confused.
Nancy berates herself. She is a writer at heart - a journalist. She prides herself on giving facts and turning them into something that is both interesting and informative.
She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.
She can do this. She tilts her head back until they're eye to eye.
“In the lab, earlier, I had a conversation with Jonathan that made me realize I owed you the same thing,” she states softly. Steve looks even more confused than before as she holds his gaze. “When we broke up, I was kind of a bitch.”
Steve's expression falters before it shutters over completely - smoothing out into something flat to mask the lingering hurt.
Nancy's fingers squeeze against her rifle as she breathes through the echo of Steve's pain.
“You deserved better than that. You were a good boyfriend, Steve - but I wasn't ready for that. I'm still not ready for that,” she admits softly. “I was still blaming myself for what happened to Barb. I felt overwhelmed in our relationship, and instead of being honest with you, I got drunk and shoved all of my insecurities in your face. I thought I needed something different, that I needed -”
“-shared trauma,” Steve finishes her statement softly. Her eyes dart away from Steve's for just a moment, searching over his shoulder until she finds Jonathan standing near his brother and Hopper. She wonders if Jonathan is the one who told Steve those words or if he figured it out on his own, if he looked at their matching scars and thought the same thing that they did.
She shouldn't be surprised, in hindsight. Steve is much more than his good looks, even if it took her far too long to realize that.
“You were a good boyfriend, Steve,” she whispers. “Any girl would be lucky to have you.”
Steve's smile is soft and sad yet full of understanding. “Just any girl but you,” he whispers. It's not accusing or hurtful - it's just a fact. She thinks they’ve both known the truth for a long time now.
“Yeah,” she agrees past the growing lump in her throat. “Just not me.”
Steve nods once before he shifts, leaning back somewhat while still occupying a little bit of her space. He stands there for a moment before awkwardly clearing his throat. “Thanks for the apology and thank you for, uh - just thanks.”
His grin is a bit sheepish, but it’s endearing in its own way, and Nancy remembers, very briefly, why she started dating him in the first place.
“For the record,” Nancy offers with a soft smile, “you're still one of my best friends.”
Steve's eyes shift to Dustin and Robin across the truck. Nancy turns to look as well, finding them bickering good-naturedly about something that is probably very, very nerdy, before she turns back.
“You'll have to fight those two for an official title, but-” he glances back toward her. His expression is soft. The same fondness she noted earlier when he looked at Dustin and Robin is present now,”- you'll always be the first girl I fell in love with, Nance. I'm always gonna care about you, whether it's five years from now or fifty.”
There is so much baggage between them, and holding onto it has never done her any favors, but maybe letting go of some of it will.
Nancy feels the familiar prick of tears, but blinks them back. She wants to cry and laugh and scream (just a little bit) at the overwhelming relief she feels. Instead, she settles for reaching out and squeezing Steve's arm affectionately. “You're a great guy, Steve Harrington.”
Steve smiles. “You're not so bad yourself, Nancy Wheeler.”