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Barbara Holland had always smelled of apples and cinnamon.
Nancy had first noticed this in the seventh grade, when she'd slept over at the girl's house for the first time. She had been sitting on the bed, only half-looking over the science flashcards they'd made as she waited for Barb to get out of the shower. On the fifth or sixth card about biotic and abiotic factors, she'd sighed and dropped the stack dullishly down onto the comforter.
She rubbed her eyes, trying to dull the ache in her head from hours and hours of continuous reading. Her teachers had always told her she needed glasses, but every time her mother brought it up, Nancy would refuse adamantly. She'd tried Barb's glasses on before, and, though they had improved her vision, she knew she looked silly. They always looked better, she thought, when placed aside soft red curls and a shy smile.
Nancy gazed around the room, looking for literally anything that wasn't basic earth science to turn her attention to. Barb's bedroom walls around her were a muted, dusty shade of lavender, illuminated through lace curtains by late afternoon sunlight. The loose, dirtied pieces of tape that covered them implied that at one point she had covered them with posters, but she'd since taken most of them down, only a few torn pages of muscular male movie stars that Nancy couldn't remember the names of surviving.
She hopped off the bed and stepped over towards the dresser, gazing down at the small array of items placed against the wood. Barb had never worn much makeup, but she kept a hairbrush and a few flavors of chapstick in a neat line next to her jewelry box.
And as her eyes flickered over to the corner of the wood, she saw it -- a bottle of apple-pie-scented drugstore perfume. She squinted down at the clear plastic, running her fingers carefully over the label. She hadn't seen anything like it, then. The girl's locker room in Hawkins Middle School was sickeningly sweet in its scent, a flurry of vanilla and baby powder and candy that often gave Nancy a headache when she dared to linger after gym class. She'd never heard of anyone using a perfume that was meant to be anything specific, anything other than vaguely sweet. Then again, she'd never heard of anyone else that was quite like Barb.
"Apple Pie Delight?" she'd gestured vaguely towards the dresser once the girl had returned to her bedroom, hair wet from the shower.
"Yeah, so?" Barb had replied, running her brush through her hair.
"I've just…” Nancy trailed off, pursing her lips together. "It's weird. Different."
"Different how?"
"I've never really seen anything like it," she tried, her cheeks dusted a light pink. As Barb stepped closer, she told herself the blush was from uncertainty.
"Well," Barb picked the bottle up in a theatrical sort of way, pulling the cap off and spritzing herself. The scent filled Nancy's nostrils, a warm, sweet sort of spice that she found she didn't mind quite as much as the vanilla she'd grown so accustomed to. "I like it." Barb laughed, spraying it towards Nancy, who covered her face and erupted into giggles. They'd returned to their studying a few moments later, still smiling warmly at one another.
Now, Nancy wished, more than anything else, that she could hear that laugh just one more time.
Barb had continued to wear her signature scent for years after that. Nancy always noticed. As their friendship grew, she even started to find comfort in it. She loved stopping by her locker in the morning and quietly inhaling warm, freshly-baked cinnamon, cracking a joke before heading to class. It became routine. Barb smelled of apple pie all the way through middle school, and for the first two years into high school. She would've smelled of it at graduation, Nancy thought, if she'd gotten to have one.
She'd smelled of apple pie that night, beside Steve's pool, sweet cinnamon mixing with chlorine in the air around her.
She'd smelled of apple pie when she was dragged into the Upside Down, freshly-baked warmth turned rotten as it was overwhelmed with sulfur and toxic air.
She'd smelled of apple pie as she decomposed in the foul darkness, wretched slugs crawling from her mouth. Gone, El had yelled. And gone with her, the apples. They, too, had rotted; left to compost in the damp, disgusting dirt.
Nancy tried to stay busy, to spare herself from the overwhelming despair and rage she felt when she thought of the girl who used to be her best friend. Of what had happened to her. Of what Nancy had done to her.
And that was it, wasn't it? She wasn't going to lie to herself, to act like anything less than a murderer. Not when she knew the truth. If Nancy hadn't dragged Barb to that party, if she hadn't abandoned her to hook up with Steve Harrington of all people, Barb would still be alive.
During the day, Nancy tried to focus on anything else. She thought up plans to defeat Vecna, once and for all, to finally save the world and get out of Hawkins. Hawkins, which held far too many memories. She knew she couldn't stay. Her downtime – which she had very little of in the first place – was spent researching the city of Boston. Tourist traps, local restaurants, music venues. She tried to look forward to the happiness she wasn't even sure she could find on the other side. That is, assuming she were to survive at all.
Overnight, she had nothing better to do but to lay back and feel badly about herself. She avoided sleep for this reason; almost always preferring to sit at her desk and write, or draw maps, or anything else. But, of course, she had to give in every once in a while. She had to keep her body alert and functioning and able to handle whatever the world had to throw at her. She had to, because it had been throwing like hell for the past five years and it would be stupid of her to believe it was going to stop now.
On this particular night, Nancy found herself trying to recharge. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laid back on her pillow – had it been two days? Three? The heavy, dark bags under her eyes suggested that it might have been even longer, but still, she found herself lying awake, tossing and turning in a cold sweat. When she stopped working, she started thinking. Nancy hated to think. She could hardly live with herself when she did. The image of Barb’s mangled body flashed against her eyelids whenever she tried to close them, the scent of moldy, decaying apples filling her nose. She rolled over frustratedly, pulling her pillow over her head as tears threatened to fall to her cheeks. Briefly, she considered getting up, but her muscles ached as she tried to move; the human body wasn’t built for constant monster-fighting with zero sleep. It was cruel, in that respect, not fit for a life like hers.
She couldn’t go on like this. She knew she couldn’t. At some point, she had to rest, otherwise she would pass out from exhaustion on the next Crawl, and get eaten by a Demogorgon, and fail her family just as she had failed her best friend all those years ago. Distantly, she knew just what to do, just who to call.
There was exactly one person in this world who Nancy could trust. Exactly one person who would understand, and who would come running as soon as she said the word.
Robin Buckley was her best friend, now. Robin was the one to comfort her in her times of need, to hold her tightly against her chest until she fell asleep. Robin was the one to play with her hair, whispering sweet ramblings about whatever her mind could conjure up to fill the silence. Nancy wasn’t sure why she felt so drawn towards the girl, specifically. She figured it was a facet of female friendship she never quite got the chance to discover in her lonely youth. She had only really come into her own in middle school, after all – and the tender, soft spot she had for Robin wasn’t entirely unlike the one she had for Barb. It was deeper, she figured, because they were older and more mature. That’s what she decided to tell herself.
That’s what she decided to tell herself as she made her decision, pulling her pillow from over her eyes to stare up at the ceiling. Nancy wasn’t sure it was the truth, but she knew she could fake it. That applied, she thought with a bit of humor, to a pretty wide variety of things going on inside of her head.
Nancy hesitantly picked up the rotary phone from her bedside table, her hands still trembling as she resigned herself to dialing the ever-familiar number. She bit her lip, trying not to think too hard about what she was doing.
After a few rings, a groggy voice rang through the speakers. "Robin Buckley speaking, and you better have a good reason for calling at two in the morning, because I swear to God if this is a telemarketer --"
"Robin," Nancy cut her off, trying to stabilize her own voice before she continued. "Not a telemarketer. It's -- it's me."
"Nance?" Robin's voice grew soft with worry, and Nancy felt her shoulders relax. She tried to ignore the warmth that rose to her cheeks. "What's the matter? Are you okay?"
"I'm home," she replied, her voice still quiet, a whisper underneath the screams of stop inside her own head. "Can you come over?"
She drew in a sharp breath as she finished speaking, bracing herself for the inevitable flurry of questions. What's the matter? Can it wait until the morning? Why can't you go downstairs and get Jonathan? She felt a pang of guilt at the last thought; she really should be asking her boyfriend, who was asleep soundly in the basement below her. But she and Jonathan had grown so distant lately -- or, really ever since he'd gotten back from Lenora. His embrace would be cold, his words hollow as he wrapped his arms around her, undoubtedly just counting the seconds until he could go back to bed.
And he wasn't there, an accusatory, frightened voice in her head, something akin to a rabid stray dog, reminded her. He wasn't there, when you were Vecna'd. He was driving your teen brother and his friend around high, trying to get back to Hawkins, where he should have been in the first place.
She shook the thought out of her head, her dark curls bouncing as she squeezed her eyes shut. She shouldn't think like that. Jonathan was trying his best, and it wasn't his fault that she'd been taken. None of this was his fault, and clearly whatever this was with Robin was a mistake. She opened her mouth to call it off, to tell Robin that she'd be fine and to go back to sleep.
"Yeah, okay. I'm on my way." The girl's voice crackled on the other end, the line going dead before Nancy could protest.
Twenty minutes after her initial call, Nancy was picking at her nails when she heard a faint tap against the glass of her window. She smiled fondly, despite herself, before forcing her body to roll itself out of bed and draw open the curtains. And there she was, in all her glory.
Robin’s tanned face was damp with sweat, her freckles extra pronounced from the day’s early-autumn sunlight. She had a serious case of bedhead, and Nancy briefly felt guilty for having dragged her out of her slumber. Robin’s brows were furrowed with worry, but she sported a goofy, encouraging grin all the same. Nancy’s gaze raked down her body before she could stop it, lingering for half-a-millisecond too long over her toned biceps, only partially exposed through her white The Cure shirt. She snapped out of it after a moment, blinking as she turned the lock and pulled the window open. She tried to shake the odd feeling she’d had a moment before out of her head.
“Hey,” Robin breathed, climbing off the roof and into the warmth of Nancy’s bedroom. She struggled for a moment to maneuver her long legs through the opening, nearly falling flat on her face before she caught herself.
“Hey,” Nancy smiled at her, eyes tired and full of unshed tears. She caught Robin’s wrist before she could fall, pulling her upwards to her full height before staring up at her. “Sorry, for this.”
“It’s fine,” Robin ran a hand through her own hair, not quite meeting her gaze. “I was having a nightmare, anyway.”
Nancy looked down, smiling, half to herself. “Me, too,” she replied. “A waking one, though.”
“Yeah, you look like hell.” Robin sputtered out, then inhaled sharply. “Not, like, you look bad. I don't think you could ever look bad, but, like, you look like you haven't slept. When was the last time you –”
“Robin.”
“Yeah?” The girl’s voice was quiet and raspy now as she looked down at Nancy, her face red. With embarrassment, she imagined.
“It’s fine. You’re right, I haven’t slept.” Nancy said softly, her hand reaching forward to brush against Robin’s before she could stop herself. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Robin’s breath caught in her throat, deep blue eyes staring into Nancy’s soul through her eyelashes. There were a few beats of silence before she finally spoke. “Yeah. Okay.”
Nancy grasped down on Robin’s hand, then, dragging her to the bedside wordlessly and leaning her body against the taller girl’s. Robin, knowing this routine like the back of her hand by now, shifted to pull her closer, arm resting over her shoulders. Neither had to ask if their position was comfortable. They already knew.
For a few moments, the two sat in comfortable silence, breathing in each other's body heat as Nancy’s hair draped gently over Robin's arm. Her worries were far from gone, but she could already feel herself relaxing into the touch. She wasn’t typically one for physical affection – just a few days before, Jonathan had reached for her hand, and she still regretted the kicked-puppy expression that washed over his face as she flinched away – but Robin’s hands were soft and comforting, her lanky fingers brushing lightly against her shoulder.
“So,” Robin said, finally breaking the silence. “D’you wanna talk about it?”
Nancy hesitated, chewing her lip. She really didn’t, but she knew she should. “It’s Barb,” she admitted, not moving to meet Robin’s eyes, her voice growing quieter, raspier. “She’s all I think about. I just… I don't know how I could do that to her, you know?” She paused for a moment, and when Robin didn’t speak, she continued. “I don't know what got into me. Obviously, I couldn't have known it would kill her, but I was a pretty shitty friend regardless, you know?”
Robin drew her lip between her teeth, still rubbing circles into Nancy’s shoulder. “You were a kid, Nance. Kids make stupid mistakes all the time.”
“She was a kid, too.”
“I know.” Robin’s voice was sweet but firm as she cut her off. “I know. But she wouldn't have blamed you.”
The tears stuck behind Nancy's eyes finally welled up towards the surface as she considered Robin’s words. The agonizing, guilty ache in her chest refused to dissipate as she gripped the sheets with her free hand. “That doesn't matter,” she insisted, her voice growing angrier and more desperate. “I blame myself.”
“Well,” Robin’s answer was quick, her voice still warm despite Nancy’s newfound rage. “I don't. And neither do her mom, or her dad, or Jonathan, or Steve, or anyone else who knows what happened to her.” She shifted their positions, then, inviting Nancy to lay her head against her chest.
Sniffling, Nancy allowed herself to be guided down against the fabric of Robin's t-shirt, tears wetting the fabric. Robin didn't mind, wrapping both of her arms around the shorter girl’s body and running a calloused hand through her brown curls. Neither of them spoke as Nancy cried softly, weeks and weeks of well-hidden guilt spilling from her eyes.
Typically, Nancy avoided showing her near-constant despair in front of her loved ones, but Robin always made it a point to know that she saw it, saw her. Any front Nancy could put up would be cruelly ripped apart by the girl, through subtle reminders of her sympathy. At first, Nancy had resented this. Something about being known, for the first time since Barb’s death, had terrified her, shaken her to her core. As time went on, though, she had come to realize that Robin not only knew her feelings, but knew how to handle them. Much better than she herself did; though, she thought wryly, that wasn't saying much.
Nancy’s avoidant nature was something she’d been trying to work on, for a number of reasons – for one, it was counterproductive for her to present herself as a protector for her loved ones, and then to turn around and leave them alone for weeks because she was a little sad. If she was wallowing in her own melancholy, it was likely that they were, too, and she couldn't stand the idea of leaving them alone.
But the second, more currently-relevant reason, was that it made Robin happy to see her acting like a person, as she’d so eloquently put it. If they shouldn't have to go through it alone, the girl had said one night a few months ago, a night much like this one, then neither should you, and that’s what I’m here for. Nancy, at her core, relied on logic in her decision making. And, no matter how much her heart had told her no, she couldn't help but recognize the truth in that.
Now, Robin’s hands traced gentle patterns in her hair, and she leaned into the touch as she tried to get a hold of herself. She took a few breaths, her fingers grasping for the fabric of Robin’s t-shirt at her waist to ground herself. She ran her fingers over the hem, trying not to think too hard about the way that Robin’s chest seemed to tighten, her breath catching in her throat as Nancy’s fingers danced haphazardly against the stitching. As she let go, pulling herself up, the girl finally exhaled as Nancy met her eyes.
“Thank you,” Nancy whispered. “I’m sorry.”
“Don't be.” Robin's voice was soft as she responded, and, even in the dim lighting, Nancy saw a red dust once again laying itself over her cheeks. Robin didn't have anything to be embarassed about this time, so she figured it was from the heat, and internally set a reminder to turn the thermostat down.
The two settled into bed after that, never truly detaching from one another. Nancy shook slightly against Robin’s chest, still sniffling as she slotted herself comfortably against the girl’s body. Robin’s chin lay atop her head, keeping her close and warm as they pulled the blanket over themselves. Drowsiness finally overcame her, and Nancy found herself falling asleep against Robin, against the cool moonlight that illuminated her room.
And as Robin curled her arms around her waist, long, lanky fingers brushing against the bare, exposed skin above her hips, Nancy thought faintly through heavy eyes that the girl smelled of clementines and honey.