summary: Nancy thinks, if he’s going to torture himself by prevalently driving past her window, down her cul de sac and around again as he coils memories of them around both their heads like vines - he could at least do it with the headlights off.
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The first time it happens, she jumps.
For a second, one stupid minuscule second, she thinks she’s forgotten.
Her head crashes with memories, Jonathan hadn’t mentioned he was picking her up tonight. Had he? Had he told her through a discrete raised eyebrow at dinner with his mother? Or through a reassuring squeeze of her hand when he dropped her off? Were they going somewhere tonight - some sort of concert or pop up that hadn’t been on her radar?
She was a second from jumping for her desk, throwing on something instead of pajamas and dabbing perfume on her wrists. She was a second away from applying cherry lip gloss and scaling her own window before he decided to come up.
summary: Nancy thinks, if he’s going to torture himself by prevalently driving past her window, down her cul de sac and around again as he coils memories of them around both their heads like vines - he could at least do it with the headlights off.
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The first time it happens, she jumps.
For a second, one stupid minuscule second, she thinks she’s forgotten.
Her head crashes with memories, Jonathan hadn’t mentioned he was picking her up tonight. Had he? Had he told her through a discrete raised eyebrow at dinner with his mother? Or through a reassuring squeeze of her hand when he dropped her off? Were they going somewhere tonight - some sort of concert or pop up that hadn’t been on her radar?
She was a second from jumping for her desk, throwing on something instead of pajamas and dabbing perfume on her wrists. She was a second away from applying cherry lip gloss and scaling her own window before he decided to come up.
He always did that, made the effort to come up if she didn’t meet him in the driveway. At first she thought it was just to be gentlemanly, but now she realizes it’s not so much as to make a good impression more as it’s just a Jonathan thing to do. He doesn’t get anything out of opening doors for her or walking her to Calc when his class is on the opposite side of the school. It’s just something he does.
She doesn’t remember how long they’ve been doing this for, but the rush of adrenaline is always the same. An intoxicating feeling she’ll never be used to but is addicted to it nonetheless. It feels so stupid - so teenage and normal, just sneaking out of the house but it's enough to make her almost giddy with anticipation and the fact that she’ll soon be seeing Jonathan only magnifies it.
Most of the time they do nothing. Drive in circles around Hawkins, or down the dirt roads outside of their small town. Sometimes a town or two over and every once in a while down the freeway that leads out of their shitty small town and they can just pretend they’re running away. Sometimes it is concerts or bars Nancy charms them into and those are the nights she puts on a skirt and that same cherry red lip gloss and they spend the night pretending to be the normal teenagers they are. But most nights it’s her in an oversized t-shirt of his, listening to mixtapes or making out in the backseat.
And she’d never admit aloud how much she misses it.
So, she supposes it’s a coincidence. Sure, she hadn’t noticed anyone else on the roads during their 2 am adventures, but perhaps she’d been too high on adrenaline and love to pay anything else mind. It’s just a coincidence headlight beams past her window pane. Maybe some other girl down the road found a boy to take her away for the night and she surmises she’s happy for them. (She’s not stupid and she knows that there’s not, but she also hates this fictional girl).
She tells herself the same thing the second time it happens. And then the third.
By the fourth she stops trying not to cry.
She stops counting past ten, and while she can’t be sure of how often it does happen, she somewhat knows when to expect it. Often enough for it to hurt and infrequent enough to catch her off guard every single time.
Sometimes she’s working away at her desk, furiously on whatever school assignment she pretends to care about. Sometimes she’s reading, or listening to her Walkman, or something else to distract her and to tell herself she’s doing something, not waiting for Jonathan to drive by.
The nights she falls asleep beforehand are even worse somehow. It’s the closest she’s been to him in months and it kills her to not know if he came by - if he’s even okay. It kills her she’s still reliant on him despite the fact she shouldn’t even want to know him anymore.
It’s mainly on the weekends, but sometimes he surprises her. Maybe he gets out early at work on a Wednesday or maybe he’s having a rough day on Sunday but her heart still skips a beat and she wills herself not to wish for him to just stop in her driveway one more time.
She forces herself to turn off her light, to get under the covers and stop depending on a boy with shaggy hair and soft eyes who she’ll never not be in love with.
It doesn’t work. She’s not stupid, she knows there’s no one else. She also knows she can’t just call him or talk to him to tell him to stop and moreover than that, she knows she can’t because she doesn’t even want him to.
But, Nancy thinks, if he’s at least going to torture himself by prevalently driving past her window, down her cul de sac and around again as he coils memories of them around both their heads like vines, he could at least do it with the headlights off.
-
She’s kind of grateful, at least it’s not cold enough to be a bitch to wait in. Winter’s just melting off and sure she needs a cardigan over her dress but at least she’s not waiting for him in ice.
She never used to sneak out the front door when he came to pick her up, it was always too risky. Especially if her loud mouth of a younger brother heard her footsteps on the stairs. She remembers when he’d flash the headlights once, a surge of light hitting her window and then killed again and knew that meant they had to be fast. That living room lights were on somewhere and if not her own parents, nosy neighbors would squeal and she could only imagine how dead she’d be.
Now, she thinks she doesn’t care as she tiptoes down the steps. The front door closes louder than she would’ve liked but if her parents grill her about it, all she could do was tell them she’s in love with Jonathan Byers’ and its driving them both crazy dancing around that. She doesn’t care how they’d scold or punish her, in fact she almost pities her mother for never understanding love like this.
Thankfully, he doesn’t keep her waiting long. Long enough for her to doubt if he was coming, if she should’ve brought a book or a magazine but she finds herself sitting on her front steps looking up at the stars distracting enough. She doesn’t even know how much time has past when she hears the car before seeing it.
She knows he sees her the second her pulls down her road, but he takes the cul de sac down and around so by the time he’s parked she’s walking up to the car.
“What the hell, Jonathan?”
She wants to be angry, but she hates how soft her voice sounds. She’s supposed to be angry at him for disrupting her life like this.
“Nancy, what’re you doing out here?” He asks as he slams his door, going to meet her in her own driveway.
“What am I doing out here?! What the hell are you doing here?”
Nancy hates stupid questions, questions she already knows the answer to, but she stands there and asks him anyways.
He shrugs, in that nonchalant way he never perfected. “It’s a nice night for a drive.”
“Oh?” She demands, her eyebrows raising. “It’s been a nice night for months now?”
“Nancy-”
“You don’t think I know it’s you? You don’t think I know you drive down and around and again? You think I don’t know-”
“I miss you so much I can’t sleep.” He blurts out, and she wonders if he even meant to confess that or not. It doesn’t matter that she already figured.
She hates how her voice gets softer. “You think I can?”
Jonathan stands there, confused but defiant in the dark and she knows she doesn’t have to spell this out for him but does it anyways.
“You think I don’t stay up, waiting for you to drive by? You think I can sleep knowing that you’re so close but just out of touch? Or, do you think that I stay up just to see your headlights so that just for a second I can pretend you’re still out here to pick me up?!”
“Nance,” He starts, not looking her in the eyes. “I-”
“What is it Jonathan? What do you think it is?”
“I don’t know!” He sighs. “I just, hadn’t thought about it. I drive by and I see your light, on or off or whatever, and I know that you’re okay. Asleep or something.”
He buries his hands in his pockets. “You don’t come every night.”
“I can’t.”
Nancy nods. “I know. But the nights you don’t,” She looks down, “It’s just...nice to know you’re okay too. I spend the whole night wondering if you were working late, or if you didn’t have enough gas money, or…” Her voices breaks. “Or if you realized that tonight was the night you didn’t miss me.”
“Nancy-”
“And all I have are these stupid nights to be close with you, before I have to wake up in the morning and go to school and pretend we’re strangers. And I hate it, I hate feeling so weak and reliant on you and I hate waiting for the day where you’re not going to want to waste all your gas driving town my street because you’re going to realize you’re not in love with me anymore.”
“I’m always going to be in love with you.” He cuts her off, and it registers to her that he has tears in his eyes too. “Damn it, Nancy, I’m always-”
“Me too.” She breathes, moving closer without thinking twice. “Every night I just want to call you. Or to climb down and have you be waiting for me with a mixtape of whatever weird new music you’re into,” He chuckles with her at that, “And just pretend that...that fight never happened and that you do still want me the same way I still want you.”
In the dark, he sounds so small and vulnerable. As if this wasn’t exactly what she’s been dreaming of happening since the day they broke up and it takes everything in her not to run to him.
“You do?” He nods. “But Jonathan-”
“Nancy.” He cuts her off, “Are you still in love with me?”
His voice breaks this time and Nancy can’t believe he even has to ask.
Still, she nods. “Of course. Always-”
That’s all it takes. Whatever willpower Jonathan had been holding onto crumbled and she’s not really sure who made the first move after he moved towards her. The next thing she knows is his hands are in her hair and he’s kissing her in the same way that’s made her knees weak in the past and still continue to do so.
She doesn’t know how long they stay out there, just that her lips are definitely swollen and Jonathan’s arms are wrapped around her again and that’s all she ever wants to feel again.
-
She wakes up at 2:03. For a fraction of a second, she’s scared she missed him or that he’s waiting outside for her right now. But her mind catches up quickly, racing in circles before it dawns on her and she knows she won’t be seeing any headlights tonight.
She takes a deep breath, her eyes still adjusting to the darkness of her room and the neon numbers of her alarm. She thinks she’s okay with that, with no more headlights passing her window pane, as she resettles herself into her sheets. As she moves her position and a voice mumbles groggily in her direction.
“Nance?”
Nancy can’t help but smile as she shushes him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“Are you okay?” Jonathan mumbles, his voice still thick with sleep. She takes the opportunity to shift in his arms, to face him more as she brushes some hair out of his eyes.
“Yeah,” She whispers. “It’s just…” She can’t help her laugh. “It’s 2 am.”
Jonathan chuckles, but his sentence is interrupted with a yawn. “We better get on the road then.”
“Not tonight.” She mumbles back, curling back into him as she places her head on the crook between his neck and shoulder. She knows in the morning it’ll be a bitch to get him up early, sneak him out of here before she’s really dead - and for a brief second she contemplates which fate her parents would be more furious at, sneaking out and spending all night driving around with her boyfriend or sneaking him into her own bed.
She doesn’t care as his arm tightens around her. He kisses her top of her forehead and she thinks she may have heard him barely audibly tell her he loves her but he’s fallen back asleep anyways now. Nancy sighs against him, she doesn’t mind that he doesn’t pick her up in the middle of the night as much anymore.
“I’m very skeptical of [the industry]. You wanna do cool projects, work with cool people, be cool characters, work on cool movies with cool story lines, but there is an element of a game or strategy to this industry. I feel skeptical of some of the politics of it, I guess. So I take everything with a grain of salt, and try to figure out what’s important to me before I put myself out there.”
“Guys, we’re going to JJ’s for victory waffles, then we’re staying up all night talking about our lives and feelings. Non-negotiable. Let’s go! City council, bitches!”
we’ve never said this as a fandom, but i think its time we do. i am SICK of pretending that… jonathan byers doesn’t smoke weed.
we never discuss bUT WE ALL KNOW ITS TRUE. WE ALL KNOW THIS DUDE WOULD BE DOIN IT ALL THE TIME!!! THATS WHY NO ONE IS HIS FRIEND BC THATS ALL HE TALKS ABOUT
jonathan byers is that kid whose car constantly smells like weed and he’s always talkin about how he doesn’t drink or smoke cigarettes bc weed is all natural
baratheonpilled
kianamaiart
annaxmalina
germansingergirl
dededos
romaincrisis
