eddie is obsessed with steves hands. he just likes to look at them, and likes the feeling of steves skin against his.
steve has a bandaid on his pinky finger and eddie just reaches for his hand without even thinking. "what happened here?' and he starts feeling the bandaid, bending steves pinky at the knuckle. 'oh got a box cut unloading the tapes'. and they. they stay like that, eddie on the counter and steve leaning against it until the bell rings alerting them that someone has entered the store. then they both jump away like they'd been caught.
one day eddie notices sharpie on steves hand and once again just grabs it without asking. numbers. he feels someone caught in his throat but he still lets himself hold onto the back of steves hand 'inspecting' the number. "some girl give you her number?" Steve shakes his head "shipment number". and if he likes the feeling of eddies thumb rubbing the back of his hand, he doesn't say anything.
eventually robin picks up on it and doesn't say anyrhing, but starts an argument about who has bigger hands and eddie is way too excited to just compare hand sizes. and steve is too blase to actually be uninterested. so when robin gets eddie alone she tells him that steve gets really scared during scary movies and needs to hold someone's hand but is to embarrassed to tell anyone, and then tells steve the same thing.
so neither of them are shocked, but neither are really prepared for when the next movie the party watches is horror (introduced by eddie, seconded by steve, ultimately decided by max).
and maybe they take that as invitation to fully interlock fingers whenever they please. never in front of anyone except robin, though.
Summary: Robin has been hiding her relationship with you for a long time. Even to the people she loves most. And when she sees how much it breaks you down, she comes to the decision she's feared all along.
Requests: OPEN
The last bell rings for ninth period. Students rush in from the hallway, sitting down as quickly as possible before the teacher begins his instructions. You sit with your head resting on your arms, ready to get the day done and over with.
You look up as you see three familiar figures walk down the aisle.
Dustin and Mike both give you a slight wave, plopping down at the table next to you with a somewhat excited expression on their faces.
Robin follows slowly behind, rounding the table sitting next to you as well, brows furrowing as she looks at all the beakers and glasses set up in front of you.
Robin leans closer, squinting at the line of liquids in front of you. “What… exactly is all this?” she asks, tone somewhere between curiosity and disbelief.
You shrug, glancing at the colorful mixtures. “It’s supposed to be a simple reaction. Something about acids and bases or… something. I forgot the part where it matters.” You give a small, self-deprecating smile.
Dustin nudges you excitedly. “I think it’s gonna work, though! You’ve got the ratios right, right?”
“Mostly,” you mumble, keeping your eyes on a small bubble forming in one of the beakers
Robin tilts her head, crossing her arms. “Mostly isn’t exactly reassuring.” Her voice has that teasing edge, but there’s a weight behind her eyes like she’s trying to figure you out.
You glance up, noticing her studying you. “I’ll be fine,” you say, a little too quickly.
For a second, she just watches, then smirks. “Famous last words.”
"Alright, class!" Mr. Clarke starts, clapping his hands together once. "We've got one last lab before Christmas break, and I think you all are going to like this one." He smiles warmly.
The class groans in unison. You lay your head down on top of your arms, sighing and already giving up.
"I know. I know." Mr. Clarke reassures. "But, this one is different. We are going test different enzyme reactions." He pauses and lifts up a packet from his desk. "You all have this packet on your desks, which you will follow to do this reaction the correct way. I want you working in groups of four since it is a longer experiment."
He turns around, writing different formulas on the chalkboard as everybody rushes to get with their groups. Dustin and Mike walk over to your table, sitting down across from you, and smile widely.
"Hello..." Mike says, giving a small wave.
"Hi," Robin exhales, flipping over her packet.
"So... how we doing?" Dustin asks, particularly close to you.
The three of them go silent, all glancing your way. Dustin puts a hand on your shoulder, making you look up at him slowly.
"Yes?"
Dustin's hand lingers on your shoulder for a moment too long, and you feel a little heat rise to your cheeks. You force a small, awkward smile, trying to act casual.
Robin shifts in her seat, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, but her eyes flick toward you for just a second longer than necessary. You catch it, and quickly look back at your packet, pretending to be absorbed in reading.
"So... enzymes." Mike starts, breaking the silence. "We're mixing these and then waiting to see what happens?"
"Yeah," you mumble, still keeping your gaze fixed on the paper. You can feel Robin's presence beside you, and it makes your stomach tighten in a way that has nothing to do with the experiment.
Dustin grins. "This is gonna be fun!"
You force a laugh, hoping it sounds genuine. Robin leans a little closer under the table, brushing your hand lightly with hers. You catch it, but move your hand away instantly.
Mike flips through his packet carefully, trying to follow along, while Robin is already measuring liquids with precision, muttering numbers under her breath.
You sit there, arms crossed over the edge of the table, watching them move.
Dustin glances at you and tilts his head, noticing your quietness. He nudges a small beaker toward you. "Here- try this." He says gently, his smile encouraging. "C'mon, it's easy. Just pour it in here, see what happens."
You pour the solution into the main glass, but your movements are slow, almost careless. Your eyelids feel heavy, and the weight in your chest makes it hard to focus. Dustin notices first, his brows furrowing.
"Hey... you okay?" He asks, leaning a little closer. His voice is worried, the excitement from before gone.
You force a small, hollow smile and shake your head. "I'm fine." You lie, keeping your voice light. But as you speak, the lump in your throat makes the words sound empty.
Robin's eyes narrow slightly. She watches you for a moment, then nudges your hand gently under the table. A flicker of warmth hits your skin, but it's bittersweet because she knows.
"Watch it." Mike says suddenly, pointing at Dustin, breaking the tension with a chuckle. But Dustin is still looking at you, concern etched on his face.
Before anyone can see more, you accidentally knock over a small beaker, the liquid splashing across the table.
"Oh-!" Dustin jumps up, reaching for the towel next to Mike. "Careful!"
You just sit there, letting him clean it up while Robin leans close enough for her voice to brush your ear. "Hey... don't worry," she says softly, low enough that no one else hears.
Dustin wipes up the spill quickly, like it's no big deal. "Okay, crisis averted." He declares, putting the towel off to the side. "See? Totally fine. Nothing exploded."
Mike snorts, shaking his head. "Yet."
Dustin straightens, grinning again like the moment never happened. "Hey, if something does explode, at least it's ninth period. Worst-case scenario, we get sent home early."
"Pretty sure that's not how school works." Mike says, glancing back down at the instructions. "Alright, step four-"
Mr. Clarke clears his throat, looking straight at you as he steps up to your table. "Y/N, mind if we talk in the hall for a second?"
He nods toward the door. You sigh, standing up and following him through the rows of experiments.
The hall is quiet, the click of the door echoing throughout. You stand against the lockers, fingers tapping against the cool metal surface. Mr. Clarke stands in front of you, arms crossed loosely, expression drawn with concern.
"What's been going on with you?"
You shrug, glancing down both sides of the hallway before landing on the floor. "...Nothing."
He sighs through his nose, tilting his head. "I'm not going to pressure you into talking." He starts. "And of course, the day before break is always hard for students. But you've been acting off lately."
You shrug again, gaze shifting to a door opening and closing down the hallway.
"I just want to make sure nothing is going on at home that is affecting you."
You nod along slowly, feeling the day catch up to you second by second. "I just... haven't been getting a lot of sleep. And I'm getting a lot of homework from teachers I haven't been able to catch up on."
He nods understandingly, posture loosening just a fraction. "Alright. Maybe this break will do you justice and get some of the energy back in you." He smiles.
Your lips curve into the smallest smile as he opens the door. You walk back in first, dodging all the students who are cleaning up their stations. Robin sits alone at the table as the boys head back to their seats.
"Everything okay?" She asks quietly, slinging her bag over her shoulder.
You nod. "Yeah."
She studies your face like she might say more, then doesn't. Instead, she nods once and zips her bag shut, fingers lingering on the zipper.
Dustin and Mike are half-packed, half-arguing over who forgot to rinse the beaker out.
"I told you I'd do it." Mike mutters.
"You said you'd do it." Dustin counters. "Big difference."
They fall silent for a second, and then Dustin leans closer to Mike, lowering his voice in what is very clearly meant to be a whisper.
"She doesn't just look tired," he says. "She looks like she's holding something and doesn't know where to put it."
You still for a fraction of a second.
Your shoulders tense before you force them to drop, eyes fixed on your bag as you adjust the strap like you didn't hear a thing.
Mike freezes. "Dustin-"
"No, like," Dustin continues, quieter but still very much audible, "that kind of tired where sleep doesn't even help. Like when someone's pretending they're okay because they don't wanna make it weird."
Your fingers curl around the zipper.
Mike glances at you, then back at Dustin. "You're... really bad at whispering."
Dustin winces. "Oh. Oh no." He lowers his voice again, somehow worse. "Okay- I didn't mean it like she's doing anything wrong. I just- she's different lately. Quieter."
You don't turn around. Don't react.
You zip up your bag, slow and steady, like nothing about that hit too close.
The bell shrieks overhead, sharp and sudden.
Everyone jolts into motion at once, chairs scarping back, backpacks slung over shoulders, voices rising as if the room has been holding it's breath all period.
"Alright, everyone- have a good break, get some rest-" Mr. Clarke calls, his voice already being swallowed by the noise.
No one slows.
You're on your feet before you really think about it, bag already on your shoulder. You don't look back. You don't wait.
The hallway floods instantly, bodies moving in every direction, laughter echoing off lockers, someone shouting about plans, someone nearly tripping over a dropped notebook. You move through it on instinct, head down, pace quick.
Behind you, Robin hesitates.
She watches you disappear into the crowd, confusion flashing across her face for just a second before she grabs her bag and pushes after you.
Outside, the cold air hits you hard. You breathe it in like you need it, like it might clear something out of your chest. The parking lot is loud, engines starting, doors slamming, voices calling out goodbyes.
You keep walking.
Keys jingle in your hand as you reach your car. You unlock it and throw your bag into the passenger seat, bracing your hands on the roof for a second longer than necessary.
"Hey."
Robin's voice cuts through the noise. Not loud, but urgent enough.
You straighten slowly and turn.
She stands a few steps away, hair slightly windblown, backpack hanging off one shoulder. She looks like she followed you without stopping to think, like she couldn't let you walk away.
"You didn't wait," she says, not accusing but stating.
You shrug, eyes dropping to the pavement. "Didn't think you'd want to.
She scoffs softly. "Since when?"
The words hang there.
Cars continue to pull out around you, the world moving like nothing's wrong. Robin steps closer, lowering her voice. "You just... left."
"I know," you say quietly. "I didn't mean to."
She studies you for a moment, expression unreadable, then exhales. "You don't have to run."
You don't respond. Your fingers tighten around your keys.
Robin glances back toward the school, then back at you, like she's weighing something. Finally, she shakes her head and steps closer, close enough that the space between you feels intentional.
She watches you for a second before jerking her chin toward the car. "Come on, it's freezing."
You nod, grabbing your bag and tossing it in the backseat. You round the car, somewhat matching Robin's pace as you shut the door.
The car stays off for a long moment.
You stare at the dashboard, watching the faint reflection of students passing by ripple across the windshield. Your fingers roll the keys back and forth in your palm, metal clicking softly against itself.
Robin watches you from the corner of her eye.
"You wanna tell me what's going on?" She asks eventually. Her voice is careful, like she's stepping on thin ice.
You exhale slow. "I'm just tired."
She doesn't respond right away. Not because she believes you, but because she knows better than to push.
"Tired." She repeats quietly, more to herself than to you.
You nod. "Yeah."
The silence stretches again, thicker this time. Robin shifts in her seat, turning more fully toward you now.
"You've been tried a lot lately." She says in an observing tone.
Your jaw tightens. You finally turn the key in the ignition, the engine rumbling to life like a way out. "It's been a long semester."
She watches you for a beat longer, eyes sharp, thoughtful. She doesn't argue. But the look on her face says she doesn't buy it.
"Okay,"
You pull out of the parking lot, tires crunching under the snow. The school fades behind you, replaced by quiet streets and bare trees blurring past the windows.
Neither of you speak.
The radio stays off. The heater hums quietly. Every stop sign feels longer than it should. You keep your eyes on the road, hand steady on the wheel, while Robin stares out the passenger window, jaw resting against her knuckles.
It's not an angry silence. Just and awkward one. Heavy. Like both of you are aware of something sitting between you that neither of you knows how to move.
At a red light, Robin glances at you again. "You don't have to do everything alone," she says, voice louder than the engine.
You swallow. "I know."
But knowing doesn't make it easier.
The rest of the drive passes in fragments. Turn signals clicking, tires passing over cracks in the road, the quiet weight of each other's presence.
Robin sits with her hands tucked into the sleeves of her jacket now. Streetlights pass in slow, steady intervals, flashing across her face and then disappearing again.
"You sure your okay to drive?" She asks after a minute?"
"Yeah," you say. "I'm fine."
She hums quietly, not convinced, but not arguing.
The silence settles back in. Not uncomfortable, but careful. You turn down the familiar streets of Hawkins. The trees and wooded areas blur by quickly as you drive.
Robin shifts in her seat. You feel it more than you hear it.
"Hey,"
You glance over briefly, then back to the road. "Yeah?"
She opens her mouth, closes it. Tries again. "Um... do you wanna come over? To my place?"
Your fingers tighten on the steering wheel. You don't answer right away. The clicking from the indicator fills the silent space as you turn a familiar corner.
She glances at you, hands fidgeting with each other. "It's fine... you don't have to."
"No, no." You shake your head lightly, snapping out of your thoughts. "Sorry, I was concentrating." You say softly. "I'll come over."
A small smile twitches at the corner of her lips as you take another turn, going a different route to her house.
You prop your arm on the door and rest your head in your hand, eyes focused on the road ahead as a small neighborhood comes into view.
Robin shifts in her seat again, glancing out of the passenger window as you drive by.
A familiar white-and-yellow house appears at the end of the road, surrounded by dead trees and a smoking chimney poking out of the roof. You pull ahead into the driveway, parking and letting the car sit for a silent moment before cutting the engine.
The cold bites at your cheeks as you step out of the car, both of you grabbing your bags from the back, slinging them over your shoulders.
Robin leads you up to the front porch, fiddling with her keys as she unlocks the door.
The house is warm and quiet inside, the hum of the tap running before dishes gently clink together. You and Robin slip your shoes off, hanging your coats up, and stepping further inside.
"Mom?" Robin calls out, peering her head around.
"In the kitchen!" Melissa says.
You both step in closer, standing in the doorway of the kitchen as Melissa wipes down the counters. Dishes dry slowly on the drying rack in front of her, and homemade sauce comes to a tiny boil on the stove, letting out a faint smell of garlic and herbs.
"How was school?" Melissa asks gently, drying her hands with a hand towel before leaning back against the counter.
"Good," Robin nods, glancing around the spotless kitchen. "Glad we've got two weeks off at least."
Melissa chuckles, nodding her head understandingly. "Two weeks to lounge around." She reaches for the wooden spoon again, giving the sauce a slow stir. "You hungry?" She asks casually, glancing between the two of you. "Pasta will be done shortly."
"That sounds great." You say automatically, voice polite and practiced.
Robin nods. "Yeah-yeah, pasta's good." She leans against the doorframe, arms folding loosely, rocking back on her heels the way she does when she doesn't know where to put her energy.
Melissa smiles at the two of you, warm and easy. "I'm glad you both came over.. Robin's been cooped up lately, and honestly..." She pauses, turning back to the stove. "I'm really glad you two are friends. It's nice knowing she's got someone she trusts."
The words land heavier than they should.
The kitchen goes quiet in a way where nothing is wrong, but everything feels suddenly too loud. The ticking clock on the wall, the hum of the refrigerator, the bubbling sauce.
You feel it settle in your chest, the familiar tightness. The careful distance. The pretending. Standing right next to each other and acting like that's all it is.
Robin shifts slightly beside you. You can feel her there without looking, close but not close enough.
Melissa keeps her back turned, oblivious, reaching for the lid to the pot. "You two make a good team," she adds lightly. "i like seeing Robin with people who-"
Robin clears her throat a little too loudly. "Uh- hey," she says quickly, glancing at you. "We were gonna head up to my room, if that's okay. Just... homework. And stuff."
You blink, then nod, grateful for the escape even as your chest aches at the reason you need one. "Yeah. That's... fine."
"Of course," Melissa says, waving a hand without turning around. "Dinner'll be ready in a bit."
Robin doesn't wait. She gently catches your wrist, tugging you toward the hallway. Her fingers brush your for the briefest second, accidental and unintentional.
You follow her up the stairs, footsteps quiet on the carpet.
Robin's room is exactly how you remember it. Posters layered over posters, a half-crooked corkboard pinned with random notes and ticket stubs, stacks of notebooks teetering on her desk like they might collapse if someone breathes too hard.
Robin drops her bag by the desk and flops back onto her bed with a soft thump, crossing her legs underneath her. "Okay, so- wow. Today was... a day." She mutters, staring up at the ceiling.
You linger by the door, one hand still on the strap of your bag, eyes drifting over the room like you're seeing it for the first time instead of the hundredth. You shift your weight from one foot to the other, unsure what to do with yourself now that there's no hallway noise, no excuses, no moving crowd to hide in.
The silence stretches.
Robin props herself up on her elbows and finally looks over. She clocks it immediately, your stillness, the way you haven't moved. "Hey," she says gently, patting the bed beside her. "You can sit, you know. I don't bite. Usually."
You nod once, not saying anything.
You cross the room and sit down beside her, careful to leave enough space to look normal. Your hands fold together in your lap, shoulders slightly hunched, gaze fixed somewhere past the opposite wall.
Robin turns back toward her desk, grabbing a notebook and pen. She sits cross-legged on the bed again, flipping pages. "Okay, so Clarke assigning an enzyme lab the last day before break?" She scoffs. "Unhinged behavior. Like sir, read the room."
She keeps talking as she scribbles something down. "And then Dustin- which, by the way, love him, but also? Zero volume control. Like I'm pretty sure the entire tri-country area heard him whispering today."
She snorts to herself, shaking her head. "And Mike trying to act like the responsible one? Please. The boy panics when his pencil breaks."
You stare straight ahead, listening. every word lands. You just don't reach for nay of them.
Robin flips a page, still rambling. "Also, I think our lab result was wrong. Like, scientifically wrong. Like 'we should not have passed' wrong. But Clarke just nodded like, 'Yep. Science.' Incredible."
She pauses, pen hovering. "You're... really quiet."
She finally turns to look at you properly.
"Hey," she says softer. "You okay?"
You blink, like you'd forgotten where you were. Forgotten the room. Forgotten her sitting right next to you.
"Huh?" You inhale sharply, snapping back into yourself. "Yeah- yeah. I'm fine."
Robin studies you, eyes narrowing just a little, not suspicious, just concerned. She doesn't call you out. Doesn't push past. Just nods slowly.
"Okay," she says, not fully convinced.
She sets the notebook aside, turning toward you more now. The joking edge fades, replaced with something careful. "You sure?"
You nod again, a little quicker this time. "Yeah. Just... spaced out."
She hums quietly, accepting the answer for now, even if she doesn't buy it. The room settles again, quieter than before, the weight still there.
She reaches for her notebook again, flipping it open and dragging it closer to her. She writes a few things down, short, quick lines like she's copying notes rather than actually thinking about them. The pen scratches softly against the paper, the sound filling the silence in a way that almost helps.
Almost.
She pauses. Sighs. Drops the pen onto the notebook with a soft tap.
Then she turns fully toward you.
"Okay," she says, calmer now, but more serious. "I'm gonna ask again."
You blink, glancing over at her. "I'm-"
She lifts a hand gently, stopping you mid-sentence. "No." She says quietly. Not sharp. But firm. "Don't answer that yet."
You close your mouth, throat tightening.
Robin shifts closer, her attention completely on you. "You've been quiet. Like... really quiet." She continues. "And I know quiet. I am quiet sometimes. But this?" She gestures vaguely between the two of you. "This isn't you."
You look down at your hands.
She softens her tone, but not her point. "You're usually the one making jokes when things get awkward. Or rolling your eyes. Or saying something sarcastic to break the tension." A small crooked smile flickers across her face. "You don't just... disappear."
Silence.
The kind that presses instead of drifting.
Your breath tightens, chest heaving slightly.
Robin exhales slowly, like she's choosing her words carefully now. "So if you're about to say you're fine," she tilts her head slightly, eyes searching yours, "I just want you to know I'm not really buying it."
Her hand hovers for a second, unsure, before resting lightly on the bed between you. Not touching you. Just there.
"You've been off," she says shortly. "And I don't know why. But I can tell."
You exhale through your nose, the sound coming out unevenly. You don't answer right away.
You just sit there, staring at your hands like they might tell you what to say if you look long enough. Your fingers twist together, then apart, then together again. Your chest feels tight, like every possible answer is wrong.
Robin waits.
She doesn't rush you. She doesn't fill the space this time. She just watches your face, eyes soft but searching, like she's bracing for something she can feel coming.
The silence stretches until its unbearable.
You sigh again, sharp and shaky, and suddenly your on your feet.
"I-I can't do this," you blurt out, words tumbling out too fast as you grab for your bag. "I shouldn't have some over, I just-"
"Hey-!"
Robin moves before you can take a step.
She's up, and in front of the bedroom door in an instant, hands braced against the frame, eyes wide with alarm. "No. No, don't- don't do that."
"Robin," you say, voice strained. "Move."
She shakes her head. "Not until you tell me what's going on."
You clutch your bag tighter, knuckles whitening. "I don't want to talk about it."
"I do." She says, quieter now, but just as firm. "I need you to."
You shake your head, swallowing hard. "Please. Just-just let me leave."
Robin opens her mouth to argue, then stops.
She sees it then. The way your eyes glass over, the way your breathing turns uneven, the way you blink too fast like you're trying to keep something back. Her posture softens instantly.
"Oh," she murmurs.
Her voice drops, gentler than it's been all day. "Hey... hey. You don't have to go anywhere."
You laugh weakly, the sound breaking halfway through. "I do."
"No," she says, stepping closer, not touching you but close enough that you feel her presence. "You don't."
Tears burn at the corners of your eyes now, and you hate it. You scrub at your face with the heel of your hand, but it's already too late.
Robin's voice is barely above a whisper. "What's really going on?"
That's what breaks you.
You let out a shaly breath, shoulders slumping like you've been holding yourself upright for too long. "I can't keep doing this," you say, words spilling out before you can stop them. "I can't keep pretending."
Robin's brows furrow. "Pretending... what?"
"This." You gesture helplessly between the two of you, then toward the door, the house, the world outside her room. "Us. Or- not us. Whatever this is supposed to be."
Her eyes widen slightly, but she doesn't interrupt.
You pace a step away, then back, emotions trembling over each other. "I'm exhausted, Robin. Like- not just tired. I'm mentally exhausted. Every day, it's watching what I say, where I stand, who's looking. I can't hold your hand, I can't look at you for too long, I can't even sit too close without wondering if someone's going to notice."
Your voice cracks. "Do you know how hard it is to love someone and act like they're just... nothing?"
Robin's breath hitches, but she just stays silent.
"I feel like I'm splitting myself in half," you continue, tears slipping free now. "One version of me gets you, the real you, and the other one has to lie to everyone else. Your parents. My parents. Our friends. Everyone. And I'm so tired of carrying it by myself."
You wipe at your cheeks angrily. "I don't even know who I'm allowed to be anymore. I'm scared all the time, and I hate that I am, because I don't hate you. I hate hiding."
Your voice drops to a whisper. "I can't keep hiding."
Robin stands there, stunned, watching you fall apart in front of her, really seeing it now. Not just tired. Not just quiet.
Hurt.
"You think I don't feel that too?" She says quietly. Her voice trembles just enough to give her away. "I do. I really do. I just-" she exhales, dragging a hand through her hair. "I thought if we waited a little longer. Just until break. Just until things were calmer."
You shake your head, tears still streaking your cheeks. "That's what we said last time."
Robin winces.
"I'll tell them." She says quickly, urgency bleeding into her voice. "I swear. I will. I just- I need a little more time. Please."
You look at her then. Really look at her.
And it hurts.
"I can't." You whisper. Your voice is steady now, but only because there's nothing left to hold together. "I hate that it's coming to this. I hate that I even have to say it." Your fingers curl into the strap of your bag again. "But I can't keep doing this for someone else. Not anymore."
Robin's chest rises sharply. "You're saying-"
"I'm saying you tell them now," you say softly, painfully, "or I walk out that door and I don't come back. I don't know how to stay without losing myself."
The words hang between you like glass.
Robin looks devastated.
She looks at the door. At you. At the floor. Her jaw tightens, eyes shining as she presses her lips together like she's holding herself back from breaking.
A long, unbearable moment passes.
Then she nods.
"Okay," she says, voice shaking but sure. "I'll do it."
Your breath leaves you all at once.
“Yeah?” you ask, barely daring to believe it.
Robin lets out a nervous laugh that sounds almost like a sob. “Yeah. I- yeah.” She wipes her palms on her jeans. “We’ll do it together. I’ll talk. You don’t have to say anything unless you want to.”
She takes a breath, then another. “We’ll tell them.”
Before you can respond, a voice floats up from downstairs.
“Dinner’s ready!” Melissa calls.
Robin freezes.
You look at each other, panic flickering briefly before Robin nods again, this time firmer. "Now," she says. "Guess now is... now."
You walk downstairs side by side, close but not touching, every step feeling heavier than the last.
The dining room is warm and softly lit, plates are already set on the table, steam rising from the pasta. Richard sits at the head of the table, smiling as he looks up.
"There they are," he says warmly. "Smells good, doesn't it?"
You murmur greetings, sliding into your seats next to each other. Silverware clinks softly as everyone begins eating. The normalcy of it almost makes your chest ache, small talk about school, about break, about nothing important at all.
You chew without tasting. Your hands tremble just slightly as you set your fork down.
Robin goes quiet.
Too quiet.
She clears her throat once. Then again.
"Uh-" she starts, then stops. "Okay. Um."
Melissa looks up immediately, concern flickering across her face. "What is it, honey?"
Robin's hand grips the edge of the table. She glances at you, just once, then back at her parents.
"There's... something we need to tell you."
The room stills.
Richard sets his fork down gently. "Alright," he says calmly. "You've got our attention."
Robin swallows hard. "This is really hard for me to say, so... please don't interrupt."
Melissa nods immediately. "Of course."
Robin exhales shakily. "Y/N and I- we're... we're not just... friends." Her voice cracks. She pushes through it. "We've... uh- we've been together. For a while."
Your heart pounds loudly, so loud you swear they cna hear it.
Silence settles over the table. But not the sharp and scary kind.
Melissa is the first to move.
Her expression doesn't harden. It softens. Her shoulders relax, eyes flicking from Robin to you and back again, like she's seeing something finally click to place.
"Oh," she says gently. Not surprised. Not upset. Just... understanding. "That makes sense."
Robin blinks. "It- it does?"
Melissa smiles, the kind that reaches her eyes. "Yes. It really does."
Richard lets out a quiet breath beside her, leaning back in his chair slightly. He studies Robin for a moment, then looks at you, his gaze steady and kind.
"Well," he says simply, "are you happy?"
Robin's voice wobbles. "Yeah. I am."
Richard nods once, decisively. "Then that's all I need to know."
Robin stares at him. "You- you're not mad?'
He gives a small, almost amused smile. "Kiddo, I don't care who you love. I care that you're safe, healthy, and happy." He gestures lightly between the two of you. "And it's pretty obvious you make each other better."
Your chest tightens painfully.
Melissa reaches across the table, placing her hand over Robin's, then extends the other toward you. You hesitate for half a second before taking it.
"I'm really glad you told us," she says softly. "I know that couldn't have been easy." Her thumb rubs a comforting circle against your hand. "You're always welcome here. Both of you."
Robin lets out a broken laugh, half sob, half relief. "Oh my God." She breathes, pressing her palms to her eyes.
Richard chuckles gently. "I was wondering when you'd say something. You two have about as much subtlety as a marching band."
Robin groans. "Dad-"
He smiles wider. "What? It's a compliment. You love loudly."
The weight you've been carrying finally slips off your shoulders.
Robin reaches for your hand under the table, this time openly, deliberately, and doesn't let go.
And for the first time, sitting there under the warm kitchen lights with plates cooling and hearts racing...
It feels like you can finally breathe.
Hey my loves! Hope you like! Tag list for stranger things is open for anyone who wants to be added!
