Chapter Text
It starts out small at first.
So small Nancy thinks she might just be overthinking it.
Sometimes Robin will decide to bike home after her shift instead of coming over to Nancy’s to talk (or make out) for a few hours before bed, like she always used to do.
Lately they’ve been having fewer movie nights. Instead of every weekend, sometimes twice a week, it’s only been once every week or two.
Often Robin will forget to call her back, not realizing until Nancy calls again and catches her, or mentions it the next time they see each other in person.
Robin always apologizes. She says she’s tired. She says she’s stressed about school stuff.
She says she’s fine, really, she’s just busy.
It makes sense. It does seem like she’s getting more and more shifts these days, and also she’s been slammed with finishing up school and getting ready for college.
Nancy believes her, of course. All of the things Nancy notices in the beginning are so small, obviously everything is fine, she doesn’t need to read into it.
It’s not until she notices the larger, yet more subtle behavior changes that she decides that yes, maybe there is something going on here.
They’re at a group hangout at Steve’s when it really dawns on Nancy.
Robin arrives fifteen minutes late, as she always seems to do these days. Nancy, Jonathan, and Steve are sitting in some camp chairs in the yard while the kids play in the pool when Robin comes wandering in.
Her shoulders are slumped, head tipped down and eyes heavy. Nancy’s heart gives a confusing surge in her chest at how beautiful she looks despite seeming more run down than Nancy’s seen her in a long while.
She wishes, not for the first time, that she could get her to take a few days off and hole away in her room with her for a while, just to sleep and decompress and resettle.
She’s just been so stressed lately.
So distant.
She wants to hold her. To melt her back into the warm, goofy, happy person she loves so much.
But Robin says she’s fine. And Nancy knows she needs to work and finish up school and get things figured out.
She also knows she’ll do whatever it takes to support Robin through this, to make sure she feels loved and cared for even while everything else seems unstable, and she won’t make it harder for her.
So Nancy pushes it aside and focuses on the fact that Robin is here now, with them, with her, and that’s what matters.
The kids call out various greetings to her, and Nancy’s chest lightens when a smile grows on Robin’s face and she waves back enthusiastically. She grabs a drink from the cooler and heads in the direction of the chairs, but the smile slides off her face as soon as her back is to the kids.
Nancy’s face pinches into a small frown, the beginnings of an uncomfortable ball forming in her stomach, but she stands up, preparing to give her a hug and a kiss when she gets closer. She thinks she might even be able to get her to snuggle together in one of the chairs so that she can rub at the muscles on the back of Robin’s neck, the ones that are always far too tight for someone so young, and get her to relax more.
Except, when Robin gets to their group she barely glances at all of them before collapsing down into the chair closest to her, not even coming close enough for Nancy to reach for her. Not even attempting to hug or kiss Nancy like she always has done anytime she’s come into Nancy’s orbit since they started dating. Always until recently, at least. Instead, as soon as she’s sitting she opens her drink and takes a long sip, closing her eyes and tipping her head back.
Nancy’s frown grows deeper and she exchanges an awkward glance with both Steve and Jonathan before jerkily sitting back down. The ball in her stomach solidifies and sinks deep, burrowing a hole as far as it can go. Her posture stays stiff. She props herself on the edge of the chair, unable to relax. It’s like her body’s magnetized to Robin, drawing her in, and it can’t stand the fact that they’re this close now without touching.
“Long day, Robs?” Steve calls, tone not quite light enough to hide his concern.
Robin opens her eyes and tips her head back up to look at him, only barely glancing at Nancy and giving her a small half-smile on the way by. “It was fine. Sorry I’m late.”
“You know we don’t mind. You sure you’re ok?” Nancy jumps in.
Robin’s eyes finally find hers but she only offers another small smile before dropping them back down to the dirt. “Just a little tired.”
Nancy nods and makes eye contact with Steve again for a second before dropping her own eyes down to the ground. “Right.”
The silence smothers them for a long beat.
Jonathan eventually cuts in, filling it with a disjointed story about something that happened at his job the other day, but Nancy barely listens.
Robin and Steve both engage with him though, Steve adding in enthusiastic commentary and Robin inserting jokes. But, it’s still off. Robin slips more jokes in than Nancy’s ever noticed before, while at the same time she never actually laughs at them herself. She’ll just drop a one liner and stare as Steve and Jonathan laugh. Sometimes she’ll smile a bit, but more often than not it just seems like she’s waiting for the story to pick up again with a determined look on her face, like she’d delivered her line in a play and is just waiting for her next cue.
Occasionally she’ll glance back over at Nancy, too, and when she catches Nancy watching her she’ll make an effort to acknowledge and smile at her, but it still feels flat. Something doesn’t make it to her eyes.
The pit in Nancy’s stomach grows.
Eventually, Nancy caves to the pull.
In the middle of Jonathan’s next story, she gets up under the guise of getting a new drink from the cooler. She routes herself past Robin’s chair, intending to trail her fingers along Robin’s shoulder or head on the way by just to satisfy that burn under her fingertips, but when she gets close Robin stands abruptly and lingers on the opposite side of the chair.
“Going for another drink?” she asks.
Nancy nods, heart soaring when Robin finally makes lasting eye contact with her.
“Great, I could use one, too.” Robin walks in the direction of the cooler, clearly expecting Nancy to fall into step next to her.
Nancy grins and hurries closer, sliding up next to Robin and reaching for her hand. Sparks trail up her arm when they touch and Nancy practically feels the way her muscles relax at the simple contact, so happy to just feel her warmth.
Robin holds her hand loosely for the short walk to the cooler, and then separates herself as she bends down to retrieve drinks for each of them. She hands Nancy her new drink, but instead of reconnecting their hands, she just turns and walks back toward the chairs, obviously expecting Nancy to follow without pausing or reaching for her at all.
It slides harshly against Nancy’s heart and she swallows tightly before jogging a few steps to catch up with her longer ones.
“Hey Robin?” she starts, keeping her voice intentionally low to avoid being overheard. “Are you sure you’re ok? Something seems wrong. You can tell me.”
Robin barely turns to look at her. “I’m fine, just tired. You know how it is.”
Nancy hesitates but then reaches for Robin’s arm, grabbing it and pulling gently in a silent request to stop and look at her.
Robin does, but her eyes settle near Nancy’s chin instead of fully making eye contact.
When they’re facing each other, Nancy steps even closer and tips up on her toes to press a light kiss on Robin’s lips.
“You can tell me,” Nancy whispers again.
Robin sighs, face melting a little bit in reaction but eyes still not finding Nancy’s.
“We could just get out of here? Go lay down inside? Go to mine? I’m happy to,” Nancy offers.
Robin’s eyes close for a moment and something kind of sad and tight flashes across her face, but Nancy can’t quite read it. “Thanks but no. We should stay here with the others. I’m fine.”
Nancy studies her face for a few more seconds, wishing she knew what exactly was running through Robin’s mind, before finally agreeing.
She leans in, intending to press another kiss to Robin’s lips, but Robin steps back and jerks her chin toward the chairs.
“Come on, let’s get back.”
She doesn’t wait for Nancy to follow.
She doesn’t look back.
Nancy stares at her, body suddenly chilled to the bone.
When Nancy eventually trails behind her and settles back into her own chair, not bothering to try and join Robin in hers like she would have a minute ago, Robin doesn’t even glance her way.
Nancy exchanges another bewildered look with Steve.
All of the little ‘inconsequential’ things Nancy has been noticing for the last several weeks pile up in her mind and she realizes one very clear thing.
Something is wrong.
The rest of the night follows largely the same pattern.
Robin spends practically no time with Nancy.
She keeps herself strangely distant, barely letting Nancy touch or kiss her again in the few more times Nancy tries.
She continues making those frequent, forced jokes in any conversations she’s in.
She smiles genuinely for the kids, but the rest of the time she seems forced and sad.
It all just sinks deeper and deeper in Nancy’s stomach.
At the end of the night, when normally Nancy would have used the excuse to strap Robin’s bike to the back of her car and drive her home so that they can sneak in a few more minutes of hand holding and kissing, Robin doesn’t even act like it’s an option. She just climbs back on her bike and pedals away, calling a short goodbye over a shoulder at them all and leaving Nancy to stare after her with nothing but a frown and a gaping hole in her belly where her stomach used to be.
Four days later, Robin sits on the floor with her back pressed up against the side of the couch. Her elbows are propped up on top of her knees so she can brace her head in her hands, pulling at her hair and rubbing at her scalp in alternating, chaotic patterns.
The sting helps.
The ache grounds her.
The answering machine sits on the floor in front of her, wires tangling together and pulling tight to the corner by the counter where it’s plugged in.
The light’s blinking.
She knows who it’s going to be from.
Nancy.
They’re always from Nancy.
But now, Robin can’t get herself to listen to it.
Her soul aches to, bones practically crawling out of her skin with her desire to press play just to listen to Nancy’s voice.
But Robin holds herself back.
If she listens to Nancy’s voice, then she’ll just want to be in Nancy’s presence.
To feel her.
To touch her.
To kiss her.
If she listens to Nancy’s message, then Nancy will invite her over again and Robin will have to find a way to stop herself from going again. And Robin’s not sure how much longer she’s going to survive it.
All she wants is to be with Nancy. To see her joy and hold her hand and share in her life. But she knows she’s on borrowed time. She knows the more she sees her now, the harder it will be to stop when the time comes.
For the both of them, but especially for Robin.
Her soul is going to rebel, shredding itself from the inside out at the loss. It’ll only make it worse if it’s been nothing but happy and whole in Nancy’s presence right up until then.
Yes, it’s better to do it this way. Slowly increase the absence, the separation, until the time comes. Numb herself to it by introducing it slowly, like boiling a pot.
Better for Nancy, too.
Kinder.
Easier.
This way Nancy doesn’t need to feel bad about it when the time comes. She won’t have to question if it makes sense. She won’t be tempted to try and make it work. Robin’s constant presence won’t guilt her into trying for longer than she should.
No.
No, this way she’ll come to realize it more slowly, with the clarity of separation to help her see.
She won’t have the misleading feel of Robin’s lips on her own swaying her decision.
She won’t have the distracting drone of Robin’s voice pulling her away from her thoughts.
She’ll be able to make a clear, honest choice.
It’ll be for the best when she finally makes the decision.
It’ll be what’s right.
Because Nancy deserves so, so much more and Robin knows that. Robin has always known that.
Every minute she’s had with her has been a loan Robin has never had the collateral for, and will never be able to pay back.
A gift Robin knows she was never going to get to keep.
Nancy is going to go to college, learn, grow, and do amazing things. And she deserves someone who can support her through that. Someone who can be calm and quiet. Someone normal who she can be with in public.
Someone she can be proud to love.
Someone else.
Robin’s always known that.
So, really, this is for the best.
It doesn’t help either of them to be connected at the hip in the way Robin had attached herself to her in the beginning. Even if Nancy had enjoyed it. Even if Robin craved it more than anything in the world.
No.
Better to do this now, slowly, over a long period of time, so Nancy can realize it for herself and make the decision. Sooner rather than later.
No need to let her see what it’s going to do to Robin.
No need to make it harder on her.
It gives her time to prepare.
It doesn’t matter if it tears Robin into pieces every single time she holds herself back.
It doesn’t matter if it’s physically painful for her to fall asleep without having pressed a kiss to Nancy’s lips.
It doesn’t matter if she’d rather jump into a portal to the Upside Down instead of ignoring Nancy’s calls.
It’s for the best.
Because Nancy deserves better.
Robin’s always known that.
She’s just waiting for Nancy to see it, too.
And when that time comes, she’ll do everything in her power to make it as easy as possible for Nancy to let her go.
Robin loses the battle with herself and the answering machine around midnight.
Nancy's voice plays out, soft and sad, in the empty house.
"Hey, it's me. I- I just wanted to call and say I missed you today. I know it's been a busy couple of weeks, but if you get any free time after your shift and you want to come over, you know my window is always open to you. I- I'd really like to see you. Even if it's just to sleep, ok? So, just, I'd really like to see you. Please? Ok, that's all. At least call me, if not, so I know you're doing ok. I love you."
There's a long silence before Nancy finally hangs up.
The click of the tape ending is so loud against Robin's shaky breathing that she actually startles back, shifting to burry a sob into her hands.
She listens to it again and again and again.
It's nearly 1am when she finally forces herself from the floor, grabs her keys, and heads for her bike.