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It had started in Middle School.
Fleeting glances, pink blushes, shivers down your spine. In gym class, you started changing in the bathroom. Once a month, you forgot your gym clothes at home.
You couldn’t swim, you were too afraid of the water, you told the teachers.
When your friends started talking about their crushes, you made an internal list of who was the most popular boy, and you picked him, each time. You gushed about platitudes, hair and strong muscles, everything you’d read in magazines.
Everything to not stand out.
You were a Harrington, after all.
You were born to fit in. To be popular.
When Steve started bringing in one girl after the other when your parents weren’t at home, you hid downstairs. You had heard his girlfriend moaning one single time in your room next to his, and you swore you could never take it again. It took you weeks to calm down. So now you hid in front of the TV, safe in inaudible distance. Downstairs, everyone was fully clothed and decent.
A year after him, you brought home your first boy. He was a basketball player, second best in the team, of course.
You fought with Steve after. Although nothing of note happened — you couldn’t take the musky smell and the rough lips of this guy — Steve almost killed him. You wished nothing more than to send him away anyway, but he made a big deal of it, and he ridiculed the poor guy at school, long after you stopped talking to him at all.
Steve had influence like that. The girls adored him, the boys respected him, and you were right there with him, getting on everyone’s good side, befriending the most popular people, joining the cheer squad. You were good. You were happy.
Guys chased you, and you turned them away. Your reputation spread, and soon everyone wanted to get with you. It helped you immensely. You just had to make them believe that any of the guys would even have a chance, when they most definitely, absolutely didn’t, as you one day realized in horror.
It was during a game your junior year when you noticed an unfamiliar pair of eyes glued to you. You were used to be watched, everyone adored you after all, but it was gazes of envy you were used to, and of lusty gross boys.
But she, she looked at you like you were precious. Like she was curious. Like she couldn’t look anywhere else but you. But when you looked back, she looked away.
And oh, you knew the feeling so well.
She played the trumpet in band. You never talked to anyone from band outside of class. Cool people were in sports, and so were you. You didn’t even have classes together. She was older than you, Steve’s age, a senior.
It was in the bathroom where you first talked to her.
You were just entering the girl’s room, when she barged out of a stall and almost hit your nose with the door, hadn’t you jumped back and squealed.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry.” She held her hands before her mouth in shock, her eyes widened. You had to breathe a few times to recover from the shock.
“Are you okay?” she asked and scanned you head to toe. She lingered. Too long.
You cleared your throat. “Yeah. I’m fine.” You dusted off your mini skirt even though it was perfectly straight and clean, but you needed something to do. “I sounded like a little girl,” you added under your breath, mortified.
She grinned. “Only a little. It was c— cool.” She corrected herself mid-word, and she held her breath. You met her scared gaze for a second, before she replaced it with another grin.
You raised an eyebrow. “Cool? Sure.” You rolled your eyes, and moved towards the sinks, splashed cold water in your face. Calm down. You could feel her presence still behind you, she was fidgeting, nervous.
You’d watched her often during games, so you knew she was always on her toes. She talked to her band mates a lot. Once you left for coach’s fetch quest, returned about ten minutes later and still found her telling the same story, gesticulating wildly, excitement engraved in her face. You remembered wishing you could have listened to what she had to tell.
“You’re Y/N, right? Harrington?”
You held eye contact through the mirror in front of you, and you nodded.
“Robin,” she said. “I don’t think we ever see each other outside of games.”
“We don’t,” you said, drying your face with a paper towel. You knew it was best to look away now. To leave. If you were anything like your cheerleader friends, you would. It’s what you learned to do from them. How to survive High School, 101. Stay away from the uncool kids.
But your heart had other plans. It started picking up pace, and fearing the treacherous color of your face, you faced down, splashing more cold water.
Robin just watched. You prayed for her to go away. But neither of you did.
“You want to…change that?” you heard yourself say suddenly, facing the sink. Your breath stopped. Seconds passed. It was fine. It was fine. You didn’t say anything stupid. She could think you wanted to be friends.
When you looked up, it was Robin instead who turned pink.
Robin and you started talking after school. You had invited her to get coffee, somewhere at the edge of Hawkins, not so many high school frequenters. She invited you to a movie, and you had the best talk of your life after.
When you weren’t with her, each time you found yourself wishing she was there. Each time you passed each other in the hallway, and each time you saw each other during games, you wanted to run to her, tell her about your day or the new music you’d found. But you didn’t. You agreed to leave it at after-school hangouts only.
You were too scared of what the others would see.
Would they see how Robin brushed your hand ever so slightly, how she touched you more often than she needed to? Watch you as you stared in each other’s eyes like they were gates to another universe? You couldn’t hold any of that back. So you couldn’t be seen.
It was Robin’s idea to go to her place one day.
Her parents were out of town, and she didn’t have any siblings, so you would be alone.
Alone.
You trembled at the thought.
Robin had picked up a dozen movies from the video rental store, and had spread them out on the floor of her room. You were sitting across from each other, eyeing the selection.
“This is impossible,” you said, defeated, falling back on the soft fabric of her carpet.
You could hear and feel her move, and soon she had crawled over to where you were spread out on the floor, her face above yours. She was crouched next to your torso, her short hair falling in her face. She nudged your side with her hand, and you squealed, ticklish.
Her face lit up. “There it is!” she exclaimed.
“No fair,” you complained, “I said I was embarrassed last time.”
Robin’s face turned more earnest. She hesitated. “Are you still?”
You locked eyes.
“Embarrassed?” She spoke softly, intentionally.
You held your breath and shook your head, slowly.
It all happened so fast, then.
As Robin was leaning down to you, you were pushing yourself off the ground, and your lips met in the middle. You held on to her for dear life, crossed your arms behind her neck, still leaning somewhere in between laying and sitting. She held your back, supported you, kept you from falling.
She was so intoxicating. Robin smelled warm — like the beach on a mild day, gentle and comforting. Her lips were the softest thing you ever touched, her embrace felt like a safe shelter, like home. You could feel all your muscles relax and all your senses attune to this moment, to her and her alone. Everything else seemed so pointless now.
Until you heard the muffled sound of a familiar voice.
“What the fuck?”
Robin spun her head so quickly you barely realized what happened. Despite the urgency, she still held on to you, not letting you fall, until you found yourself back in the present. Enough to move, enough to take in the surroundings of Robin’s room. There, pressing his face against the window, you saw him.
Your brother.
You sat up quickly, and pushed yourself off the ground, eyes wide. Robin was faster, she hauled towards the window, and slid it open.
“What are you doing here?” Robin’s voice trembled.
Steve climbed through the first floor windowsill, almost hitting his head in the process. You were standing bolt upright, mouth agape in shock, and your eyes darted from Robin towards your brother and back, not even comprehending to see them in the same room, in Robin’s room.
“S-Steve,” you stuttered. He stared at you, indecipherable look. At Robin, he looked angry, and she seemed to shrink a little, shoulders slouching, face cringing.
You swore your legs would give in at any moment, your heart would jump out of your chest and helplessly race in a puddle of blood on the floor, all alone. Ruined. Over. That was it.
The face Steve made looked just like when he kicked your first “boyfriend” **out.
“I swear, I can explain,” Robin took a step towards him, but he raised a finger as if to tell her to stop, but then he directed all his attention away from you toward Robin. His back was now to you, and you frowned.
A stupid thought, delayed by the panic formed in your mind: Why was your brother here?
“Why did no one tell me about this? My sister Robin, really?”
“I thought you’d be angry and I’m sorry. I’m sorry, it was stupid I know, but we were just getting to know each other and I swear I would’ve told you eventually, sometime, when I was sure. I mean when we were sure—”
Robin stopped, her gaze darting to you, but she saw nothing but a puzzled face, a deep panic, and then you interrupted her.
“Steve, I swear it’s not what it looked like—”
He turned towards you. He scoffed. Then pointed at Robin, angry. “So you weren’t sucking my fucking baby sister’s face just now, I just imagined it?”
Robin cringed. “N—No, you didn’t.”
Your heartbeat exploded. “Yes!” You corrected, “Yes, you did, we were just—”
“Y/N, it’s okay.” But Robin’s calmer voice got swallowed by your own fear.
“I just asked her to practice. I have this crush, and he told me I’m a bad kisser, so I asked Robin to help. It was silly, I shouldn’t have—”
“Y/N, stop.” Robin tried again.
“I would never just kiss a girl without a reason, why would I?”
Robin was suddenly in front of you, holding you by the sides of your upper arms, and she moved her head so you were forced to look into her eyes. They were so calm, suddenly, and she smiled.
You realized you were trembling all over.
“Stop,” she said, softly.
You looked into her eyes a little longer, soaked up the calm like a sponge. But it made the confusion resurface, and looking for an explanation, you searched for your brother.
You found Steve walking towards the both of you. The anger had faded from his face, he was still frowning but now he looked sad. Heartbroken. His eyes were glistening.
Robin and him exchanged a knowing glance and she stepped back, making room, as Steve suddenly moved to pull you into his arms and squeeze you tight. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling, he hugged you often, but it felt particularly warm now, like an apology. Like a safe place.
When he stepped away, you were frowning deeply.
“I— I don’t understand,” you said, fighting for words.
“He knows,” Robin just said, and she smiled at Steve, whose expression suddenly changed to glare at her, and she flinched.
“I thought you just caught us—”
“I know about Robin, Y/N.”
“You two know each other?”
They shrugged, and then, like a secret code, a shared mystery, they grinned widely at each other.
“Sorry for not telling you,” Robin said. “But yeah, I know it sounds strange, but we’re friends.”
“Were,” Steve cautioned her. “Until you decided it was a good idea to snatch my sister behind my back, Buckley. She is way too young for your dirty ass mind.”
Robin rolled her eyes.
But then Steve smiled at you, and he lifted his arm to ruffle your hair, destroying your perfectly combed ponytail. “It’s okay. I’m not mad at you. It’s cool.”
You blinked. And felt the faintest feeling of water rising in your eyes.
“I don’t know what to say,” you said. And you collapsed to the floor, crouched on your knees, like a wet sack devoid of strength. Steve sat down near you, on Robin’s bed. She just watched the both of you.
Steve groaned, but it sounded relaxed, playful. “I should have known, honestly. That boy was disgusting, and you never touched another one again.”
Robin laughed.
You scoffed. How could he have known you better than even you?
“Thanks for scaring the hell out of me,” you nudged his leg in an attempt to punch him, but your arms were weak from all the trembling, and it was barely a graze.
“Steve, why did you come here though?” Robin asked.
That seemed to shake him awake a little, and he looked like he had forgotten something, suddenly.
“Right,” he said, and stood, facing Robin, “you need to come with me.” His voice had a serious tone like you’d rarely heard from him before.
Robin looked like she knew without any further explanation. She sighed.
Then she sat with you, took your hand. “I’m so sorry to leave you standing in the rain like this, but we have to leave.”
“Both of you? Why?”
They exchanged glances. “Hard to explain, but, uh—” she squeezed your hand. “We’ll talk about this later, okay? I promise. We’re good, right?”
You nodded, slowly, confused.
She got up, and you followed her, and before you really registered you all were leaving her house.
“I’ll take you home,” Steve said, the keys to his beloved car dangling as he pulled them out his pockets.
You tried to get in the back seat after Robin, but Steve held the door shut in front of you. “I can’t take this shit in my car, not yet, people.”
You felt your cheeks flush, and scurried for the front seat.
“Why can’t I come with?” You asked as Steve started the motor, and headed for your house a few streets away.
No one answered your question, not really. They were dodging it, saying they can’t tell you now, maybe later, that it was all a little complicated. Nothing major though, really. Robin rambled, none of the words she was saying made you any wiser until you reached the Harrington house, and before it stood two kids you recognized from school. A boy with dark curls, carrying some sort of technical equipment, sprinted for the car when Steve pulled into the driveway.
“What is going—”
“Hurry up, we don’t have any time to lose,” the boys tore open the car’s back door, and Robin made room for them and their equipment to sit, while you were just sitting there, blinking.
Robin reached for your hand and squeezed it. She gave you a weak smile. “See you later?”
You nodded, slowly. Looking for Steve, he nudged his head towards the door, needing you to leave.
“Give me a heads up next time, you two. Please.” He then said to you and Robin.
You got out of the car, hesitantly.
Robin waved to you as they drove off.
You didn’t sleep the whole night. Steve only came back early in the morning, cuts and bruises on his face.
But he hugged you as you went downstairs to greet him, and you knew that whatever crazy things could happen, your brother would always be there to have your back.