âI do notâ need your help,â he hissed, interrupted by a raw hiccupping sound.
âNo? And here I thought you hated being wrong.â Jayce shook his head, glanced out into the empty lab, glowing in grey, unnatural tones like a crypt.
This was somewhere the dead got buried.
âAlright, V. Get up, then.â
The plates of armor fluttered, pulsing up and down like a dying bird's ribcage. Viktor was trying to breathe. He wasn't doing a very good job of it, and the angry sparks from his chest suggested he wouldn't be able to for much longer.
âGo on. If you don't need my help then get up and fix yourself--â
Viktor's boot hit the ground, the ring of metal tinging through the air. His shoulders rose in a moment of hesitation, and then he braced a hand on his knee â his bad knee â and pushed.
 Or, when Viktor is gravely wounded, he shows up on Jayce's doorstep, not sure exactly what he's looking for.
Cee and Ezra stood shoulder to shoulder. She held the strap of her bag with one hand at her chest, resting the weight of her arm against it. Together, they surveyed the opening.
âThink we'll find any fancy walnuts in there?â
Cee stopped a smirk from reaching her lips, but not her eyes.
âNo,â she said. âBut if the ceiling falls on me, I'm never leaving the ship again.â
Ezra laughed. It rang bright and clear in the cool mist of the morning. Cee took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the fresh air, relaxing at the sound of her own breathing free of a filter. Next to her, Ezra did the same. Their eyes met and he wiggled his eyebrows at her.
âVacation, huh?â he grinned.
Cee smiled so hard her face ached.
âVacation.â
She turned her smile to the cave system in front of them, this one much smaller and holding no threat of violence, but rather, a profound peace, if only they could locate it. And, looking at Ezra, she was pretty sure they could.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters Summary:
It must have stormed again while they slept, somewhere between four and the morning traffic, because leaves were stuck to the wet concrete around the pool and the trees looked shaken. Steve collected the dishes, and Robin followed him, and so she dried while he washed. She told him about how sometimes she wished her mom would leave more often because she was always hanging around and hovering, and sometimes it drove Robin crazy -- and he knew she was trying to help, in her own way.
When he didnât say anything after a while -- not because he didnât want to, but because he wasnât sure he could -- her voice tapered off to silence, and then a little while after that, she asked him, very softly, if he was feeling okay.
âGrade two concussion,â he murmured with a faint smile. âRemember?â
She smiled back at him, but it was sad around the edges.
In the tail end of that roll of thunder, there was silence.
âWhat?â Robin demanded. âWhy?â
âI don't know, itâs just⊠weâve worked together for, what is it, like two months, almost?â He shrugged and left out the part where theyâd held hands when both of them thought they were about to die. The part where theyâd thrown up together. The part where Robin had told him she was jealous because girls liked him, and she liked girls.
Robin seemed to be thinking about it, though, just like he was. There in the darkness, all those things they didnât say gathered around them like mourners at a wake; stood tall, faceless shadows, taking up space and almost proving that, really, they should know each other's favorite color. It was like they were all pushing him and Robin closer together, even though their elbows were already touching.
âI guess you have a point,â she said, tapping invisible patterns onto the table. âI like hazel.â
Steve blinked, searched for a few more pretzels.
âWhat, like, brown?â
âNo, dingus, hazel's a completely different color.â
âHow is it a different color, itâs literally just brown.â
âItâs -- brown adjacent. Like, if you run brown under the sink for a while so it gets those blueish edges. If weâre being specific, technically itâs two different colors rolled into one.â
âWait, so, like⊠if you put your eyes and my eyes together?â
There was a sound behind him, like an exhalation of breath or the flutter of a curtain settling after everyone had left the room.
âThey're coming. But you already knew that.â
âAre you cold?â Jayce wondered, suddenly realizing he might be.
âCold? No. No, I'm not cold, Jayce⊠I'm dead.â
 Or, what if Viktor died in the initial attack and Jayce was left to pick up the pieces of himself (spoiler: he doesn't -- he hallucinates Viktor instead)
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Summary:
Starcourt Mall was on fire, and Steve was learning all sorts of new things. Like, Robin was the spitting image of her mom, and defeating Russians often came with a concussion. Like, concussions felt a lot like your brain trying to escape from your skull, and Robin was hard to keep secrets from. Like, his parents traveling for the Fourth of July hadn't bothered him before today, and the idea of Robin coming home with him brought... relief? Yeah. Relief.
Starcourt Mall was on fire, and Steve wasn't exactly sure when things had turned from his to theirs, but he was pretty sure he didn't mind it.
âSomething is wrong.â Viktor stopped just behind him. âWhat is it?â
Jayceâs shoulders shifted, a ripple of something. A flinch, Viktor wondered, and he frowned.
âItâsââ an exhale. âComplicated.â
Viktorâs face softened.
âJayce.â He thought he saw the man shiver. He made his voice even smaller. âWhat is it?â
Thirteen years ago, Jayce had almost died.
Or, in all possibilities, Viktor cannot bear to let Jayce remain cold, even when he doesnât realize heâs always been the one to make him warm. Or, Viktor keeps saving Jayce over and over again like a paradigm.
âSomething is wrong.â Viktor stopped just behind him. âWhat is it?â
Jayce's shoulders shifted, a ripple of something. A flinch, Viktor wondered, and he frowned.
âIt's--â an exhale. âComplicated.â
Viktor's face softened.
âJayce.â He thought he saw the man shiver. He made his voice even smaller. âWhat is it?â
Thirteen years ago, Jayce had almost died.
Or, in all possibilities, Viktor cannot bear to let Jayce remain cold, even when he doesn't realize he's always been the one to make him warm. Or, Viktor keeps saving Jayce over and over again like a paradigm.
Yennefer lifted his hand up to where it was framed by the sunset, and Jaskier was thinking about fire.
âIâm fine.â
âDonât be stupid, bard.â
Bard. She still called him that. But then, hadnât he called her witch even when chaos had forsaken her.
 Or, Jaskier is hurting and Yennefer loves him through it.
Hey, itâs been a while since you posted so I hope you get this. I just want to tell you that I LOVE your Western Bucky Au and it means so much to me. Thank you for writing and sharing this masterpiece. Itâs just so creative and fantastic. I'm stunned and I will come back to it over and over again!!
I hope you are doing well!!! Lots of love đ€đ€
Ahhhh, thank you so much!!! I loved writing that series, it was a lot of fun. At the time I was working as a trail guide, so I would spend my rides thinking about cowboy Bucky haha.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapter summary:
Ezra had all but mastered the art of reading faces. Every face was different -- the twitch of an eyebrow might mean something on one but a different thing on another. Each person revealed different signs, many of them unintentionally, and Ezra could read them all. He spoke the language of expressions fluently.
His mother had pursed her lips when she was mad; his brother had smiled when he was nervous; Cee fiddled with the lobe of her ear when she was working through writer's block. Cee clenched her jaw when she wanted to say something but wasnât sure if she could. Cee stepped closer to him when she was excited.Â
Ezra could read Cee like she was written in a language heâd created himself.Â
âDo you maybe⊠want a hug?â she offered unassumingly, turning to cross one arm and glance off into the trees before feeling her attention pulled inevitably back to him.
âDo Iââ Astarion took a step back, angling his shoulder toward her. His eyes were wide, and suddenly the anger was gone from his face. It had been replaced with⊠surprise. Genuine, raw surprise. It made Karlachâs engine ache.
âWhat,â he cleared his throat, trying to recover his biting tone. He only half managed. âWhat the hells would I want a hug for?â
Or, one time Astarionâs grumpy and one time heâs not. Both times end in hugs from a certain fire girl.
âDo you maybe⊠want a hug?â she offered unassumingly, turning to cross one arm and glance off into the trees before feeling her attention pulled inevitably back to him.
âDo Iââ Astarion took a step back, angling his shoulder toward her. His eyes were wide, and suddenly the anger was gone from his face. It had been replaced with⊠surprise. Genuine, raw surprise. It made Karlachâs engine ache.
âWhat,â he cleared his throat, trying to recover his biting tone. He only half managed. âWhat the hells would I want a hug for?â
Or, one time Astarionâs grumpy and one time heâs not. Both times end in hugs from a certain fire girl.
âDo you maybe⊠want a hug?â she offered unassumingly, turning to cross one arm and glance off into the trees before feeling her attention pulled inevitably back to him.
âDo I--â Astarion took a step back, angling his shoulder toward her. His eyes were wide, and suddenly the anger was gone from his face. It had been replaced with⊠surprise. Genuine, raw surprise. It made Karlachâs engine ache.
âWhat,â he cleared his throat, trying to recover his biting tone. He only half managed. âWhat the hells would I want a hug for?â
 Or, one time Astarion's grumpy and one time he's not. Both times end in hugs from a certain fire girl.
Summary: It was the summer of â87. Nothing in your life had prepared you for Robin, but somehow everything had begun falling into place. It all started with a movie and a pair of ocean-blue eyes, and suddenly you were dancing to a Jukebox in a long-closed diner, or racing down the length of a pier, swimming in the moon-dipped lake and walking her home down yellow-lit streets, talking about the way The Smiths sound like indigo and the best time of the summer is when the fireflies start to come out.
It was the summer of â87, and you were falling in love.
Word Count: 7.9k
A/N: ........ Hello, I am still alive. Good god, sorry for the wait -- I kept wanting to work on the final chapter and only recently got around to it but it's here! I adored writing this fic, even if it took me almost a year to finish it off. Thank you all for bearing with me, and I hope this final chapter is at least a little worth the wait. Love you all <3
Fic Playlist! Â Also on Ao3
Previous Chapter Masterlist
Chapter 8: Tango in the Night (Remaster)
"Remind me again?"Â
"Robin," you said, trying not to sigh. "Buckley. She invited me to the movies that one time..."Â
"Right, okay," your mom nodded. You sat your fork down.Â
You hadn't been eating dinner much with your parents. Between working at the diner and spending the night at Steve's, they'd started to notice -- and they'd started to suspect something was going on. Which, it sort of was. Just not what they thought.Â
"And that Harrington boy--"Â
"Is just a friend.â
Your dad raised an eyebrow at you.Â
"And anyways, he's not even going to be there."Â
âMy parents are going to some festival this weekend,â Robin had said. âIt's like this end-of-summer thing to celebrate the solstice, I don't know. Anyway, would you want to maybe come over?â
It had all come out in a rush. Sheâd been nervous. It was cute. She'd said to tell her with enough time for her to make her room presentable and âNot like a herd of raccoons lives here -- actually, what are a bunch of raccoons called?â
A gaze. That's what a bunch of raccoons are called.
You'd said yes.Â
"Good," your dad was saying. "Becauase you know how I feel about you spending the night with a boy."Â
"I know," you said, voice empty, just enough to get by.Â
There was so much your parents didn't know and even more they didn't understand. But that was okay. You had a coffee tin stashed under your bed. One night after staying late at the diner at the end of your shift, you, Robin, Steve, and Eddie had gotten it in your heads that, soon, Hawkins would see the last of you -- and the conversation by Steveâs pool had become less of a late-night musing and more of a reality that you could touch with your hands. The night ended with Eddie digging through the recycling bin and pulling out four coffee tins with a dismissive, âIâll just, rinse them off in the sink or whateverâ before handing one to each of you. Â
"Gross," Robin and Steve had said at the same time.Â
Four tins. Four incomes. A chance to get away. To find your own place. To make it if you had to.Â
"But not too far," Steve had said like he didn't really care even though he clearly did. And you had all agreed. Not too far. Close enough to still see the kids. Close enough for Eddie to see Wayne. Close enoughâŠÂ
So, what your parents didn't know wouldn't kill them.Â
âWeâre just having a⊠girls' night,â you said, and it felt wrong, but it seemed right.Â
âThatâs good,â your mom said. âIâm glad youâre making friends.â
Your dad was silent, turning back to his dinner, and the topic passed. It stayed that way until you finished eating, stayed that way as you helped with the dishes, even stayed that way when you retreated to your room to grab your overnight bag. With all the spontaneity over the summer, you werenât used to having a bag with you. Something about it felt final, like the way the nights were starting to get cooler and the kids were planning their last adventures before heading back to school. And, perhaps, the tin under your bed made everything feel changed. You couldnât stop yourself from kneeling down to search it out behind folded sheets and old shoeboxes. Ten dollars and twenty-nine cents in odd change. It was a start. And the bag slung over your shoulder was just the beginning.Â
âWill you be home tomorrow?â
âIâm not sure. I can call you.â
There was a dissatisfied silence. âOkay. Be safe, make wise decisions.â
âI will.â
Those two words cut the string binding you there. It furled away from you, carried by its own momentum. You waved goodbye to your parents and pulled the door shut behind you. Outside, the sky was blue and the air hummed softly with cicada song. The summer might have been coming to an end, but the pavement still swam with the heat and beads of sweat still collected across your forehead as you pedaled down the road, feet pumping, heart beating, every inch of it drawing you closer to where you wanted to be. To Robin. Maybe even something beyond that.Â
The world was starting to feel more like your own.Â
But, for now, the world was still only as big as Hawkins, Indiana, where all the streets you passed looked the same and you knew familiar faces were nearby. Familiar faces that you loved. That loved you. And you knew youâd carry that with you. Youâd carry them with you wherever you went. It felt good, to know that. To feel it in your bones, in your soul, in everything that had ever made you who you are. Robinâs street was the only one you were looking for; white letters printed on a small blue sign. When you saw it you smiled, and then you turned your bike, and you thought about the time sheâd helped you pull it out of Steveâs trunk and how that seemed like such a lifetime ago.Â
You left it along the side of the house, leaning it on a rock next to wildly growing vines and blooms of flowers, their petals starting to fall as summer was on its way out. They decorated the ground of the flower bed like a bright, living blanket. You never would have guessed that theyâd fallen because they were already dead. Your bike, its pedals still whirring, became one with the image of Robinâs house. It fit in like it had always been there, along with the half-rotted shed in the backyard and the sun-bleached wood of the porch. There were repairs made, only evident by interruptions of brighter, smoother pieces of lumber. They hadnât been weathered by time like the boards around them.
You left your bike, its pedals now slowing to a stop, along the side of the house, and you thought youâd be okay if was consumed by the vines, too. If it was covered up by a shower of petals. You thought it would be fine if it blended into the background completely, just another distant color on a polaroid or a picture in a magazine -- just another feature of a quiet house in a sleepy neighborhood where, from the outside, nothing particularly interesting was happening. On the inside, thoughâŠÂ
Robin opened the door without a word -- found your pinky and linked it with hers without a word. And you hugged her. Without a word, you wrapped your arms around her neck as hers settled onto your waist, and you felt the warmth of her all at once, became overwhelmed with the smell of her chapstick and her hair and her skin. It was familiar in a way youâd never known possible at the start of the summer, mere months ago. It made your chest open up like a flower and bloom right there under the warmth of the sun she held within her. All you could do was take deep breaths of each other.Â
She tucked her face into your neck and you hummed lightly, sighed heavily, loved overwhelmingly. And outside, a leaf from the big oak tree in Robinâs yard -- the first leaf of the year to fall, perhaps a month too early -- drifted through the air and landed in the basket on your bike. And from the street, if anyone had been there at all, they could have seen Robin pull you through the door and spin you around to kiss you. If anyone had been there. If anyone had been looking.Â
She gave you a tour of her home. Where sheâd played with pots and pans when she was five. Where sheâd kept her pet goldfish until it died when she was twelve and it was three. âI won it at the fair. I didnât even know those things could live that long.â She showed you the porch where sheâd lost her lucky bracelet when she was fifteen -- dropped it straight down one of the cracks between the boards. She wondered if it was still there. Wondered what had happened to it if it wasnât.Â
âIt was probably the raccoons,â you said, smirking at the amusement in the crinkles around her eyes.Â
âYou should be a comedian. Then maybe we could all afford an apartment for real.â
She sat on her kitchen counter and stirred the brownie mix sheâd started before youâd arrived because âI got nervous and didnât know what to do with my hands.â
âDonât you think weâll make it?â you asked her, leaning by the sink. âI mean, with all four of us⊠I donât know, I think we can do it.â
She set the bowl down next to her, kicking her feet softly as she pulled the spoon out and tilted it in her hands.Â
âI want to believe we can,â she said. âI mean, if anyone could make it happen, itâs us.â
And it was enough of an answer, even though it wasnât really an answer at all. It was enough because you knew youâd never really have an answer. Life gave few certainties, and staying with the people you love wasnât one of them. But in the same way, you couldnât envision a life where you didnât wake up next to Robin, or find Steve cooking breakfast in your kitchen, or see Eddie off to work every morning. You couldnât imagine a version of Hawkins where they werenât in your life. Funny, seeing as you hadnât even known them before this summer. Lucky, how things work out.Â
But then, maybe they were one of your lifeâs certainties. Maybe it was always meant to be.Â
âAnd hey, if it doesnât work out, we can always just go to the same retirement home,â she dryly joked, licking batter off of the spoon.Â
âYou should be a comedian,â you grinned wryly.Â
âWe can be a double act. Make double the money that way.â
The sun was setting as Robin pulled the brownies out of the oven. She had to leave her place between your legs to do so, and you sat at the kitchen table missing the warmth of her skin against yours.Â
âWell, at least I didnât burn the house down,â she said, setting the pan on the stovetop.Â
âShame Steve isnât here to see it.â
Robin crept back over, frizzy strands of hair framing her face. You were pretty sure sheâd washed it recently -- it always got frizzier when it was clean, and its strawberry smell was especially strong when she pressed her cheek against your ear.Â
Wrapping your arms around her back, you pulled her onto your lap. Sitting on your legs, she relaxed against you and traced lines across the base of your neck.Â
âCan you imagine,â she started, that quiet, contemplative tone to her voice. You loved her like this as much as you loved her joking and her energy. âEvery day being like this? This⊠quiet. Just us.â
You hummed softly and rested your chin on her shoulder, hugging her tighter; feeling the weight of her.Â
âOne day it will be,â you replied.
Robin inhaled a breath through her nose, shifting so her face was pressed into your neck. âYou really think so?â
âI know so,â you said. âI feel it in my bones.â
âIn your bonesâŠâ Her smile pressed against your skin and you could hear the raise of her eyebrows in her voice. âWell, if your bones say so, then it must be true.â
âIt is. You wait and see.â
Leaning back, Robin hooked her arms around your neck, hands draping lazily, fingertips brushing your back.Â
âOh, Iâm waiting,â she said, voice low, the faintest smile sparking her eyes. Sureness in every line on her face, every freckle. You felt her hands slide up your spine.Â
âIâm waiting,â she whispered, eyelids fluttering closed as she leaned forward, letting your lips meet slowly -- so slowly that you felt your heart beat faster and your muscles tighten with something that fluttered through your whole body.Â
âGood,â you whispered back, the words pinned between your lips and hers.Â
You watched her smile. You tasted it.Â
It tasted sweet.Â
By the time you ate the brownies, they were cold. The night was cold, too -- a new change from all the other nights before. The crickets were still singing, though, and the sky was still indigo. And Robin -- she was still here, only this time her thighs were warming your shoulders from where you sat, on the ground now, between her legs. Her chest was holding you up. You leaned back, head bumping her collarbone, and looked up at the sky.Â
âI think I got brownie crumbs all over you,â she said, brushing your shoulders off. You smiled and knocked your socked foot against her ankle.Â
âHey, Robin?â you suddenly said, and there must have been something in your voice to change the way the air was settling around the two of you because Robin sat up a little.Â
âYeah?â
There was a gathering of energy and matter sweeping into the center of your chest, like the quiet friction before the creation of a universe. Before the bang. Before everything thatâs been building begins.Â
âRobin, I love you.â
She sat up further. Feeling something twist in your stomach, you moved off of her enough that you could turn around.Â
âYou,â she started, her eyes wide, already searching yours. âYou⊠do?â
âYes,â you breathed, chuckling nervously. âI-I mean, yes? I canât help it, when Iâm with you -- even when Iâm away from you, I⊠You donât have to say it back, I just c--â Robin grabbed your face with her cold hands and kissed you.Â
âOh,â you sighed in the moment she pulled back to breathe, and then she was leaning forward and kissing you even harder. Your hands slid up to rest on her jaw, thumbs brushing over the soft skin there and she rocked you backward. You would have lost your balance if she hadnât snaked her arm around your waist, but she did, and she used it to pull you back into her. Your chest brushed hers, and you felt something twist in your stomach again. This time, it wasnât nerves.Â
Robin ducked back and tilted her face down to brush her nose against yours. Your face was warm where her hands were cupping it. You felt her thumb explore the edge of your lower lip.Â
"You're--" she caught her breath in a laugh. "You're my favorite person in the whole world."
You smiled, caught your breath in a laugh of your own. Robin didn't let go.Â
"I never want to not have you," she whispered, eyes dropping to your lips.Â
"You have me," you whispered. "Always."Â
Robin pulled you into her and the last of the summer crickets chirped as you kissed under the indigo sky which had begun to grow cold. The same sky that had watched a similar scene unfold under the same moon reflecting off a lake, mosquitoes swimming in the hot air. You hadnât cared about them back then, and now, you didnât care about the cold. It was different -- it was a sign of change, of life -- and it was good.Â
So, as the crickets sang the outro to their summer symphony, you and Robin finished where you began; kissing under the moonlight in a world that was all yours.Â
The sun was shining through the windows. When you opened your eyes, it was like a picture staring back at you -- the kind someone would hang on their wall because it was warm and perfect and it lit up the place. A curtain, eggshell blue and half-translucent, captured the yellow rays and held them, glowing, between stitches of fabric. Youâd never been in Robinâs room before. It had always been Steveâs house.Â
Her room smelled like⊠her. The laundry detergent she used, the berry shampoo that lingered around her like a halo the day after sheâd washed her hair, the vanilla lotion she liked. All of it was contained inside the four walls like a time capsule. And you thought, maybe the world would go on without you if the two of you could just stay here. If that was all the rest of your life was -- a sunny morning in late summer laying in Robinâs bed -- you would be content. You would be happy. You could have spent forever in this picture and you wouldnât have missed out on a single thing as long as Robin was lying beside you. Inhaling a sleepy sigh through your nose, you stiffly rolled over. The sheets were tangled up between the two of you. By the door, a chair was left overturned from where you and Robin had knocked it over, too tangled up in each other to notice where you were going.Â
Your clothes had found homes across the floor. Your shirt was caught on the leg of the chair, your pants were near the window next to Robinâs bra. You smiled faintly, eyes tracing over the edges of her room. It was messy in a lived-in way -- you could see the impressions sheâd made on the space, how sheâd made it her own. Posters hung on the wall. A small, well-loved desk sat in the far corner, off to your left. In the light of the morning, you could see stickers, now faded remnants of childhood, that you hadnât noticed last night, when youâd been occupied with other things.Â
Like the girl next to you, who still lay sleeping. The beautiful, mind-blowing, wonderful girl. You could still taste her lips on your tongue, could still feel her hands on your skin, the way her hair had felt tangled between your fingers. Everything was golden and ethereal and⊠perfect. It felt fitting, as if your lives had always been heading toward one another. And, you decided as you propped your head up on your hand and brushed a strand of hair out of Robinâs face, the waiting had been worth it. Every moment youâd been made to feel alone was worth a single moment with Robin. To think things were only beginning.Â
How exciting.Â
Now that youâd touched her again, you couldnât keep your hands off of her. You smoothed your thumb over her cheek, your touch light enough not to wake her. You traced the tip of your finger along her temple, connecting freckles with invisible lines before dipping back behind her ear, feeling the warmth of her skin and the softness of her hair. When her eyelids began to flutter open, you were smiling. When her eyes found your face, she was smiling too. Closing them briefly, like she was stealing a moment in time, she sighed deeply. Contently. And then she dug a hand out from under the nest of blankets and caught yours, guiding your wrist to her lips.Â
âHey there,â she murmured, and you felt her breath on your skin a moment before she pressed her lips against your wrist, right over your lifeline.Â
âHi,â you sighed.Â
She inhaled deeply, her nose pressed into the palm of your hand. She inhaled like you were made of oxygen and starlight and everything she needed to survive. Laying back onto your side, you scooted forward until you could rest your forehead against hers.Â
âThis is, like, everything Iâve ever wanted,â she whispered. You could hear the smile in her voice.Â
âYeah,â you smiled back.Â
Your bodies were maps. Youâd never known just how much time you could spend exploring the beauty of someone else before youâd met Robin. Before sheâd brought you to her bed and let you touch her softly. Before sheâd touched you. Youâd never known how quickly a morning could pass when you were learning the language of another personâs freckles, when you were becoming fluent in every beauty mark and blemish -- how it could be so perfect that it felt like an eternity all the same. But with Robin, you discovered it all. And the morning passed quickly, and it was eternal all the same.Â
Eventually, she had to get up.Â
âNot to shatter this perfect moment, or anything, but I really have to pee.â
âEvery moment with you is perfect,â you grinned, eyes roaming her skin unashamedly as she tossed the sheets off. You watched the skin on her back, scattered with freckles, while she reached down to search the floor for a shirt.Â
âUh, cheese alert. Did you read that one in a greeting card?â
âOuch,â you played up a wince. âGuess that means I should stick to comedy, huh?â
Turning around, Robin gave you a sly grin before leaning down. Very, very slowly, she kissed you. Your hand found the soft skin over her ribs.Â
âWhatever makes you happy, Earth girl,â she murmured against your lips. Your head spun. And then, like nothing at all had happened, she hopped up and pulled a shirt on. Your shirt.Â
You watched her as she hopped off to the bathroom, stopping by the door to lazily spin around and give you one last look that made it clear she knew what she was doing to you. You hurled a pillow in her direction hoping that it would distract her from how flustered you were. The moment she disappeared into the hall, you yanked the blanket over your face. It smelled so much like her that it didnât help your case, but in the few minutes that Robin was gone, you managed to cool your face down.Â
You heard her return before you saw her. There was a click and a whirr, and the sound of music had you throwing the blanket off and blinking around.Â
âOh my god, is that Aretha Franklin?â you asked as Robin gave a little spin before dropping onto the bed. She tossed her legs over yours.Â
âYeah. It was my momâs tape when she was little. She gave it to me when we were going through the attic a couple years ago. You, uh⊠you donât mind, do you?â She glanced up at you, hair framing her face like a halo.Â
âAbsolutely not,â you replied, shifting so your hip bumped against her. She sighed, closing her eyes with a smile.Â
The cassette sounded old -- parts of it warped by years of being played, parts of it sounding like they were coming through a portal from another time to slide comfortably into the room.Â
âBaby, baby, baby
This is just to sayÂ
How much Iâm gonna miss youÂ
But believe while Iâm away
That I didnât mean to hurt youÂ
Donât you know that Iâd rather hurt myselfâ
Your hand found Robinâs hair. The sun had taken up a patch of wall; lit it yellow and bright. The ceiling felt wide. You could feel the room heating up; it was going to be a hot day. Rubbing your thumb along her forehead where you knew there was a garden of freckles, you raked your fingers back through her hair. Robin hummed and tilted her face up. You tucked a strand behind her ear and moved down to her neck.Â
âThink of me sometimes
Because if loving you was so wrongÂ
Then Iâm guilty of this crimeâŠâ
âWhat,â you faltered for a moment, your voice sounding like an intrusion; a tear in the canvas. âWhat do your parents think of me?â
Robinâs thumb was pressed against your wrist.Â
âWhat do you mean?â She lifted her chin further; she was listening, even though both of you were staring at the sun-covered wall. The corner of one of her posters had peeled back. There was a sticker a few inches from the ceiling. Robin must have jumped to put it there.Â
âI mean, likeâŠâ You meant: did they know you kissed their daughter. Did they know you were saving up to get her an apartment, a life away from here. Did they know you wanted to spend the rest of your life with her.Â
âThey, uhm, donât know about us. I-If thatâs what youâre wondering.â
âMine neither,â you quickly said. Robin let out a breath -- you realized that it was a relieved one.
It was a hard thing to tell someone. It was hard to tell your parents anything at all.Â
âDo you⊠want them to know?â Robin slowly asked. She hadnât stopped running her thumb along your wrist. You felt like there was something to that. Something important.Â
âNo,â you were honest. Then, âIâm⊠sorry.â And it was honest, too.
âNo, donât be,â Robin moved to sit up, then changed her mind and pulled your arm closer, sliding your hand down to settle below her ribs. She tucked her face into the crook of your elbow. âDonât be. I get it. Trust me,â she blew out a breath that was almost a laugh. âI definitely get it.â
âI was scared you were going to hate me, once,â you murmured. âBeforeâŠâ You shook your head, fingers wandering over her shirt. Your shirt.Â
You were scared of her, once -- back before youâd realized there was a world where she would ever be wearing your shirt. Back when youâd read her bubbly writing on a nametag and known that you were absolutely, helplessly caught up in her.Â
Robin took a breath, lips forming the almost-beginning of something. And then, instead, she said, âI never could have hated you.â
You tried to imagine a world where Robin hated you, but in all of them, she was only ever wearing your shirt.Â
Sliding your arm out of her grip, you folded your fingers between hers, squeezing onto them like you never planned to let go.Â
âBut whatâs inside
Canât be denied
The power, the power of love
Is my only guideâ
Robin hummed softly to the music, and you felt the vibrations when she moved your hands up to kiss your knuckles. The world felt heavy, but the room felt light. You breathed deeply from the air inside Robinâs bedroom, preserved in time like a painting, just like the yard outside where your bike sat collecting falling petals and blades of grass weaving between the spokes. Inside -- inside her house, her room, the painting -- you wrapped your legs around her hips to hold her closer. You always wanted her closer. Ever since that moment in the lake, with water dripping off her hair and her skin soft under the moonlight, youâd known that you couldnât live without the feeling of her. And Robin -- she leaned into your knee, turning her cheek to it and settling in like she couldnât live without you, either.Â
âCan IâŠâ she murmured. âHere, let me see something, justâŠâ With her words floating into the summer sunlight, she lifted your hands up, holding them out so your intertwined fingers joined the scene of her room in delicate brushstrokes.Â
âHm?â you hummed. It joined Robinâs words as they floated.Â
Pulling her fingers free, she arranged your hand in the air, uncurling your fingers, smoothing over your skin like she was opening a flower. With a quick gesture, she told you to âstayâ -- a painter with her brush, a master at her craft -- and you watched as she hovered over the rings stacked on her left hand. A simple silver band -- âMy dad gave it to me when I was eight. It barely fits my pinky, but I canât get rid of it. Feel like I would get ten years of bad luck or somethingâ -- a small flower made of wire, two guitar strings twisted together; made by Eddie, whoâd given her and Steve each one for Christmas last year. Heâd promised to make you one, but âNot for Christmas. That would be too predictable; who likes knowing what their presentâs gonna be? Ruins the Christmas spirit if you ask me.â -- and finally, on her ring finger, the silver band with the pale blue gemstone. This ring, you rarely saw her without. The others she would rotate, wearing one or the other, but this oneâŠÂ
Robin slid it off her finger, holding it up and watching the gemstone pick up the light and fracture it into a thousand splitters, like shatters of blue glass reflecting onto the ceiling. She tilted it, then dropped her arm to rub the gem against your shirt over her stomach. And then, then she lifted your hand with the gentlest of touches and slid the ring onto your finger. Your ring finger. And that was about as important as anything ever could be.Â
â...What--â
âItâs yours,â she nodded, raising your hand into the morning sunlight. She smiled distantly at it, as if she was the only one in the room, and then she turned to look at you. âAnd, uh⊠Iâm yours, too.â Her smile turned shy, her freckles bedding down in a garden of rosy blush. You leaned into her and tried to kiss every single one of them. Who could guess how long it would take? You both had the time.Â
You were wearing her jacket and your arms felt warm. Part of that, you thought, was from knowing that sheâd worn it before you. That you now existed in the space she had occupied. Across the room she sat, looking at you with a softness and an eagerness. You smiled. You couldnât help it.
âWhat?â you asked, rubbing circles on the sleeve of her jacket where it was pressed into your palm.
She sprung up from her desk chair, all tawny hair and long limbs and mischievous smile, which you knew meant she was especially excited about whatever she wanted to show you. Placing her hands just above your knees, her squeeze made your head feel dizzy.
âAn alien spaceship,â she murmured. With a wink, she pushed off of you and skipped for the door, waiting until sheâd reached it to twirl languishly around. She smirked, one of those secret smirks that you knew no one else in the world had seen because they were meant for you alone, and leaned toward the hallway alluringly.Â
âAlright, space girl,â you said -- the first time youâd called her anything like that. It was fitting; there was no one in the world like her, and the version of yourself that you became in her presence couldnât be explained by anything that belonged to this world.Â
She was something else, your girl.Â
Yours.
The ring on your finger felt heavy. Heavy like grounding. Like the thing that tied you both to this world even if you didnât quite belong to it. Your thumb moved from the sleeve of her jacket to press onto the gem laid in the silver band. It was cold, but it soon warmed against your skin.Â
Robin was waiting by the door.Â
You stood and took her hand.
Hours ago, the two of you had returned to her room, but now it was draped in afternoon sunlight. It was stronger and not as soft as the morning light that had covered you like a sheer fabric -- the afternoon was more like fine silk. Robin looked the same in every shade of the day: beautiful. Always. Even when -- no, especially when she was hanging upside down on her chair, swiveling it from side to side while she talked animatedly with her hands about something that had happened in Family Video the other day. Especially when she laughed so hard at some stupid joke youâd made that she snorted and nearly choked on her lemonade. Especially when she got annoyed at the TV when it wouldnât pick up a signal unless she was holding the antenna just right.Â
âSorry, but we have to break up. I only have eyes for this television now, and sheâs a demanding lover.â
Youâd laughed, heart swelling at the confirmation that âbreaking upâ gave you. She truly was yours.Â
Well, unless the TV stole her away.
Hours ago, the two of you had returned to her room, fingers intertwined as she led you through her home even though you knew the way by now as if youâd known it in a past life, but hours before that, youâd sat in the kitchen, in the living room, on her lap. Hours before that, youâd kissed her just as passionately as you had the night before, when youâd felt her skin grow hot under your fingers.Â
But now, hours later, you were following her out into the yard. You were pulling your bike from the bushes along the side of her house, feeling satisfied when you had to tear away a few vines that clung to the wheels. And then you were running, bike trailing by your side, after Robin, who laughed into the sunlight and shook the hair out of her face. You could see enough of it to notice the way her nose was crinkled, and then she turned forward again and swung herself up onto her bike. You followed suit, the soles of your shoes striking the pedals, and you relished in the solid pressure of them under your feet, the way your muscles sang when you pushed yourself forward after Robin.Â
The air carried a warm breeze and, though you missed the weight of it, you were glad to have shed Robinâs jacket in favor of lighter layers. Sweat beaded on your brow as you pumped your legs, soon catching up. Robin threw a grin over her shoulder, her hair furling around her face wildly. You laughed into the late summer sky.
You had no clue where you were going, but you rode through town, swerving around evening traffic as tired office workers made their steady way home. Some of them stopped at the general store or the post office. Robin rode past them like they werenât even there. You followed her like she was the only person in all of Hawkins. Where it counted, she was.
She swiftly led you out of town, breaking into the backroads like some mermaid slipping into water; suddenly, she could breathe again. And you felt like you were breathing for the first time. You took a deep, gasping breath of air and let it out in a whoop. Standing on your pedals, you raced in front of her, hearing her high, husky laugh. A moment later she swam into view beside you.Â
This road you recognized, and you were only slightly surprised when Family Video and its sister shops appeared in the distance. You and Robinâs pace had slowed, though it remained steady. The parking lot outside Family Video was empty except for two cars: a BMW and a big, familiar run-down van.Â
Steve and Eddie were outside, lingering after Family Video had closed. Steve was leaning back against the rough side of the building, and Eddie had his arm propped above Steveâs head. You grinned, lifting your hand in reply to their sudden waving. Even from this distance, you knew each other. Robin whooped loudly, and Eddie made devil horns and pulled a face like he might chase after her, and you could see Steve roll his eyes even from the center of the road. And then they were gone, left in the rearview as the two of you peddled on. Â
The breeze had turned cooler -- a reminder that summer was at the end of its life -- and the sun was nowhere to be found, lost somewhere behind the endless forest of trees that ran parallel to the road. You recognized the spot where Robin had met you all those weeks ago, when youâd walked and listened to The Smiths and wore flower crowns. That, too, passed behind you -- slipping by your shoulder and, just as you turned to look at it, growing distant and seemingly unimportant.
You knew, though. You knew what it had meant. But things were also so different now. Time kept going, and it pulled you with it. For once in your life, you were grateful for that.
Your pace had slowed again, and just like the buildings and the people, the trees gradually began to thin out.Â
âRobin,â you called, unable and entirely unwilling to keep the smile from your voice, âWhere are we going?â
âI told you,â she grinned, falling back to set a new pace -- a much more relaxed one. âSurprise.â She lifted her eyebrows and gave them a wiggle.
Now that you werenât peddling so hard -- now that you could sit back and catch your breath -- you looked around, taking in the far less populated corner of Hawkins. On either side of the road, which had cracked and crumbled and faded to a pale asphalt blue under the relentless scrutiny of the sun, there stretched wide open fields. At the start of the summer, they would have been overflowing with growing stalks of corn -- even now, you could see the hollow stumps; all that remained of what had once been a sea. Now, the slightly rocky and almost alarmingly flat farmland bared itself to the sky like the underbelly of a beast that had rolled over to take a nap.Â
Even the fields were preparing for the coming winter. Unlike the fields, the rest of Hawkins would be continuing forward in motion; it was only the land that would get to rest.Â
Speaking of rest, you only just realized how late it had gotten. The air was significantly cooler now, making you think of the jacket youâd once been glad to have left behind. You shivered, but it was from excitement as much as it was the chill.Â
âHere,â Robin suddenly said, pushing her heels down into her brakes. You hurried to follow, and the sound of tires dragging across the asphalt was the only sound for miles. Even the birdsong had faded away, still back with the trees and the busy Hawkinâs streets. They would be dead by now. Everyone would be settled home, eating dinner or watching TV, surrounded by the quiet glow of their home. Your own parents, you thought, were likely sitting in the living room, illuminated by the light of the television and that old lamp that had been passed down by your Grandmother.Â
Standing in the middle of the road, cold fingers gripping the handlebars of your bike, breathing heavily into the wide open sky, you felt like maybe, in a way, you were home, too.Â
âThis is it,â Robin whispered, perched on the seat of her bike like a bird in a high tree. Her eyes were on the sky.Â
You took a moment to look at her, her face framed by all that open space, and you only realized the whole world had changed color because Robin looked particularly beautiful in that shade of orange.Â
And then you looked up.Â
The whole sky was red. Orange bursts of clouds like paint-soaked cotton rolled across it, so still it was like you were looking at a photograph. The deep maroon melted into a rich pink at the horizon, and every inch of it glowed radiantly. You'd never seen so much sky in your whole life. You thought you could hear the world singing.Â
âHoly shit,â you breathed, catching your balance on an outstretched foot. Your bike teetered as you craned your neck.Â
âExactly,â Robin grinned like the two of you shared a secret. More secrets than just this, you realized.Â
You shared so much with her; this sky was just another thing.Â
Next to you, Robin reached across the point that marked the center of the road -- that invisible line that you could almost see if you looked hard enough and imagined that it should be there -- and she held out her hand. You took it, spinning the ring on your finger around until the gemstone was pressed into your palm. You held it close until it warmed. The cold air blew between you, not enough to push the clouds in the sky, but just enough to make you shiver.
Robin squeezed your hand and, at the edge of Hawkins, under a sky on fire, you could see the rest of your life on the road in front of you.Â
âHi there, Iâm calling for Steve Harrington. He gave me this number to get ahold of him.â You glanced up at Robin, her face coming into focus, and were briefly distracted by the realization she still had the bluest eyes youâd ever seen, even after all these years; even after all the places youâd been and people you'd met.Â
âYes--â you raised your eyebrows at the voice on the other end of the line. Robin bounced carefully, like if she got too excited the hotel receptionist would be able to hear it.Â
âYeah, sure,â you repeated, then gave the receptionist your name before holding your hand over the phone and whispering, âSheâs gonna call up to their room.â
âRight, of course. She has to make sure weâre not stalkers or something.â
âWell,â you drawled, tilting your head.Â
âWe are not,â Robin grinned, gently slapping your arm. âWeâre just -- worried friends.â
âI think that fits into the realm of âstalkers.â Might even be a subcategory-- Yes?â you pulled your hand away, straightening up. Robin drifted in your line of vision as you turned to the wall, unwilling to let your face out of her sight.Â
âUh-huhâŠ. OkayâŠâ
âWhat?â Robin hissed. You held up a finger. The woman in your ear was talking fast, obviously eager to get back to some task that didnât involve you.Â
âOkay perfect. Thank you.â
âWhat did she say?â Robin asked, fiddling with her hands. You titled the mouthpiece away, just in case, and listened to the cheery music crackling through the receiver.Â
âSheâs sending us up. Should only be a few minutes before--â
âYou guys couldnât wait another day could you?â
âSteve!â you grinned, and Robin flapped her hands excitedly.Â
âHi Steve!â she yelled, and you held the phone out so he could hear her. He probably could have heard her anyway.Â
âObviously not,â you replied, pulling the phone back to your ear. Robin behind you and pressed her cheek against yours so she could hear his replies. You wrapped your arm around her waist and gave her a squeeze.Â
âHow was the ride up?â Robin asked.Â
âLoud, crowded--â
âSmelling of old socks.â
âEddie,â you grinned.Â
âMy fair ladies,â his voice got closer. You imagined him and Steve standing in a similar fashion, sharing the phone in a dimly lit hotel room.
âGross,â Robin muttered, rolling her eyes fondly. You checked your watch.Â
âYou donât have Dustin and Will yet, do you?â
âNot yet,â Steve replied.Â
âTheyâre still prisoners at the moment. Go figure,â came Eddieâs voice. You could practically hear Steve roll his eyes. He and Robin were more similar than theyâd care to admit.Â
Living together might have contributed.Â
âWould you knock it off,â Steveâs voice grew distant, then returned. âThey took their finals yesterday. Spring break officially starts tomorrow.â
âWhen do you plan to leave?â you asked, pulling the pen off the notepad that hung by the phone.Â
âProbably around ten. Gonna take the little shits for breakfast before we hit the road.â
âDonât hit it too hard,â Robin leaned in to say. You both heard Eddieâs barking laughter.Â
âHey new girl, tell Robin to add a dollar to the jar,â Steve said.Â
âBut I didnât swear.â
âNo, but Iâm about to--â
âOkay,â you butted in, smirking. âMattresses are blown up, snacks are stocked -- that table you wanted is all set up, Eds.â
âYouâre my hero,â Eddie replied. His voice kept fading in and out, and youâd shared space with him long enough to know that he was probably bouncing around the room.Â
Steveâs groan, on the other hand, was loud in your hear.Â
âDâyou guys really have to play that dumb game? Itâs vacation, youâre supposed to have fun. â
âThis is fun, Harrington.â
âWhatever.â
âUm, guys,â Robin interjected using that exaggerated voice she reserved for them, particularly when they were annoying her. âCan we stay focused, please? If you keep bickering like an old married couple, youâre going to scare the kids away before you even get here.â
âPlease--â Eddie scoffed, again from a distance, while Steve said, âWe donât bicker.â
You and Robin shared a look. It would have been a lie to say it wasnât a little bit fond.Â
âBesides, theyâre not really kids anymore,â Steve added, suddenly sounding wistful.Â
And he was right. They werenât kids anymore. Dustin and Will had been in college for almost two years now. Lucas was on the other side of the country thanks to a basketball scholarship, Max was interning at a non-profit in California -- which put her closer to Joyce and El. You knew she was happy about that. So, Steve was right: the kids werenât really kids anymore. And though you hadnât known them as long as the others, watching them grow up and move on -- watching the effect it had on your three friends; a mix of pride and sorrow -- had changed you as much as it had changed Robin, Steve, and Eddie.Â
The four of you had stayed in Indiana, but the people youâd stayed for had all left.Â
It wasnât bad, though. For the first time in your lives, you had total freedom. You didnât have to hide from your parents, or the world -- the world had moved into your two-bedroom apartment; everything outside of here was nothing.Â
It meant that you could give Steve and Eddie as honest of a goodbye as you wanted to without anyone reading into it or asking what they were to you. It meant that, after hanging up the phone, you could pull Robin against your chest and kiss her. It meant that, in the spirit of enjoying an apartment that wouldnât be empty for much longer, you could do so much more to her than that.Â
A few states and a few hundred miles away, your friends were making their way home, to a little building that sat just outside of Hawkins, Indiana. It was a modest building, with weeds in the flowerbed outside and cracks in the walls. The windows let the winter air in, sure, but there was enough warmth to go around. And maybe everyone had moved on and away, but by staying, you and Robin had found something youâd never thought youâd have before, something youâd only dared to dream of during the summer of 1987âŠÂ
A corner of this Earth that could be your very own.Â
âI love you,â Robin slowly whispered, each word a promise, her hands in your hair like the endless galaxy that stretched above you, just beyond the ceiling. âEarth girl,â she smiled.Â
You leaned forward and tasted it. It tasted of tall grass and indigo and The Smiths.
âI love you more,â you murmured against her cheek.Â
In the empty space above the cupboards, four coffee containers looked down at you, unaware of the role theyâd played in anything at all, hardly remembering the diner theyâd come from. And, somewhere off in the distance, as if it was floating through the window from another room, lazy on the spring breeze, you thought you could hear the soft sounds of a familiar tune.Â