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Nancy appears quite small in Jonathan's old T-shirts. She has kept two of them: a faded white one with a Clash print, which she does not particularly like but has chosen to retain as a reminder of the reasons behind the dissolution of their relationship, and a yellow one with a red Squawk logo print. She wears them as loungewear, swapping them every three days, making them comfortable, and trying to make them lose their weight with every single spin in the washing machine. They are also useful. They are doing their job well, covering her and keeping her warm enough.
Robin observes the process, noting the gradual change in the detergent's effect on them, and how Nancy becomes more comfortable with them over time. They suit her well, and it seems almost right that they envelop her, leaving her all that space. That's exactly what Jonathan is doing. He remains present, checks on the Wheelers' well-being, and occasionally drops by to greet them and offer food prepared by Joyce. His approach is familiar, and he continues to care, though now from a distance.
It's Robin, though, the one who has been helping the Wheelers, and she witnessed the shirt swap and the way Nancy swims in it more and more, one pound at a time. Initially, she wasn't entirely certain. It would be unfair to accuse Nancy of self-starvation as a means of overcoming her difficulties; she needs time and, above all, evidence. She has time: Robin has become a highly regarded guest at the Wheelers' residence, making frequent visits, at least twice a week. Her primary motivations are not necessarily to spend time with Nancy, as there are other opportunities for that, such as car rides and even Robin's house, where the parents are very welcoming and can boost anyone's mood. However, she has expressed a preference for Nancy's, particularly for the esteemed Mrs. Wheeler — it's just Karen, dear — without whom Robin might not have survived.
She offers her assistance when it's required or accompanies Karen when Nancy is occupied with her regular tasks. Currently, if she doesn't take on these responsibilities, there is no one else who can fill in. Mr Wheeler's recovery is also not yet complete. At times, he can be seen making his way from the bedroom to the bathroom, very slowly. Regarding Mike...
In any case, Jonathan has certainly not disappeared from Nancy's life, but it is understandable that their relationship has drifted apart. They are doing so in the healthiest way possible because this breakup, unfortunately, is not only useful but necessary. It seems to have little to do with love, affection, or their shared history. It seems to be related to the sense of transition that occurs when love becomes affection, rather than being a continuous cycle of exchange with it.
It's interesting to note that Steve is maintaining a certain distance. Robin perceives a measure of consistency in this behavior, given his affection for Nancy, yet he finds himself weary of being confronted with the implication that his actions suggest an ongoing desire for her. He's feeling tired because he's a really good friend and he doesn't want it to seem like he's that way with Nancy just because he still loves her. He loves her, he won't stop, but there's no point in begging for the love of someone who has already rejected him once. Besides, there is a growing friendship between him and Jonathan, with Nancy being the only topic they don't discuss.
While others may drift away, still making their presence felt through their absence, Robin is the one who stays. She remains and looms over them. She even envelops them, because she is the one who tries to cultivate relationships with everyone. She is the latest arrival who has grown fond of them all and has stayed to face the monsters just for that reason. She has found a home in them, thanks to this.
There have been occasions when Nancy invites her to stay over and she graciously accepts. They have found refuge in the basement, where they sleep on couches covered in blankets. They recline with their heads facing each other and engage in conversation late into the night while a movie plays in the background. It is in these moments that Robin becomes aware of the signs of trauma in Nancy, who she perceives to be growing more and more withdrawn within her T-shirts and beneath that impressive mass of curls. However, it seems prudent to withhold any definitive statements until more time has passed and additional evidence has been gathered.
"Have you considered the fact that Steve doesn't necessarily have to prove anything? If you think about how he is such a good friend to you, it's really something" Nancy says one evening, as the credits begin to roll before their tired eyes.
"It is different. You know that."
"It's quite similar. He felt the same about you..."
"It seems that the difference lies precisely here, Nance. You were in a relationship with him before you rejected him. You were his first love, and I believe you were also his only love up to this point. The dynamic between us was never quite as it has been portrayed. He is eager to demonstrate his commitment to your friendship."
"That's a nice way to prove it to me. I haven't seen him in a month" It is not an accusation, but rather a fact. Nancy always presents facts, irrefutable facts. "You, on the other hand, are always with him."
Robin lets out a soft sound as she lifts herself from her sprawled position on the couch. She finds a position that allows her to observe Nancy—or, rather, her unkempt curls, as Nancy remains in a prone position on the opposite sofa.
"Do you realize that I've been asking you to come to WSQK to help us and you've always refused? Besides, there are only a few weeks left and then Dingus and I will be done working together. And this time, it appears to be a final decision."
Nancy doesn't respond, but Robin is aware that she is still awake. She can see her foot tapping rhythmically to the movie soundtrack on the arm of the couch. Otherwise, she can easily imagine her, tiny in the oversized Clash T-shirt she has expressed some reservations about. The issue emerges when Nancy rises and her figure comes into view: Robin is momentarily overwhelmed by the prospect of Nancy's presence being absorbed by the garment.
How many pounds has she lost? A lot. Robin has clearly gained about five pounds, now that she's managed to eat a meal without feeling anxious about Vecna's fucking existence. These changes are obvious. She definitely notices them, especially since she spends so much time with Nancy. She's clearly her new Steve. She immediately dismisses the thought, feeling guilty.
"Where do you want to work next?" Nancy suddenly asks, turning off the TV and grabbing another blanket. She wraps it around her shoulders, and Robin almost bursts out laughing because she is so ridiculously small. It's clearly a joke. Nancy, however, doesn't seem to notice.
"The library. I need to spend time cataloging, sorting, reading, and studying languages. When I go to the Smith, I'm going to hit the ground running."
"So I didn't convert you to Emerson. You've made up your mind."
"You really tempted me, Wheeler, but I'm definitely more attracted to the women's college. And its curriculum, of course," she adds with a completely silly wink that makes Nancy smile.
"The library is a great idea. I'll keep writing for a few small newspapers before I move."
Nancy lies down on her sofa and disappears from Robin's view again, were it not for her foot tapping to the rhythm of her heartbeat. A rhythm that reveals her nervousness.
"It's clear that we're both going to regain a significant amount of independence."
"You practically live here, Buckley, do you realize that?"
"And I'll even be moving to your state."
"Absolutely. I won't miss you."
Robin wants to tell her that she'll never make her miss her, but she just keeps talking nonsense until they fall asleep. It's like a family. They are like two...best friends. Robin has never felt so safe except with Steve and Vickie. She hopes that Nancy will feel it too, and that she will be able to tell her all her truths.
*
The next time she stays overnight, it wasn't actually planned. It's not Nancy who extends the invitation, but rather Karen. That evening, they share hot chickpea soup, hoping it will offer comfort to one another. While Holly appears to be managing the recent traumas she has faced, Nancy is withdrawing into herself, and Mike has adopted a pallor that is now accompanied by dark circles under his eyes. At this rate, it seems inevitable that he will become transparent one day, and his presence will likely go unnoticed.
Robin recalls that fleeting moment when Steve was falling into the unknown, in the Upside down. She remembers, or rather relives, the way her insides were sucked into a wave of panic before Jonathan saved her best friend from certain death. She feels a sense of unease, and the weight of the soup increases within her stomach. Only then does she feel a sense of empathy toward Mike and the emotions he experiences daily. Ultimately, it is he who is facing the greatest challenges. It is not uncommon for them to keep him company, ensuring he is never alone: at least one of the children is always present, offering distraction, laughter, and a sense of vitality. However, Mike is currently spending time alone. Tonight, Karen has made every effort to ensure that only one of her children grappling with trauma has company.
Even when a demodog almost tore Mrs. Wheeler apart right in front of the stove, even when those two poor parents still can't explain what really happened, Robin's presence brings a sense of comfort and humor to the situation. In the meantime she observes the way Karen keeps shifting her gaze between her children, trying to embrace them with a single glance. Ted continues to read the newspaper, but it's possible that he is still so frightened that he holds it lower and tries to listen to the sound of his loved ones' voices.
Holly appears quite composed, though she does recall the tiles her mother's blood was spattered on and unconsciously avoids them. She also has a habit of keeping the door open and turning on a night light while she sleeps. Mike's approach is similar to Nancy's, characterized by minimal verbal expression, a smile without his lips reaching his eyes and a self-imposed starving, effectively withdrawing even the energy to experience discomfort.
Nancy moves her spoon around her plate, picking out chickpeas, squeezing them and releasing their soft texture that flavors the soup, but she doesn't eat it. In an effort to maintain a harmonious atmosphere, she discreetly exchanges plates with Robin's once she has completed her own meal, silencing her weak protests with a kick under the table. And as time passes, the familiar patterns of conversation persist, fears are gently set aside, and Mrs. Wheeler graciously offers Robin a place to stay whenever she may need it, much like she does with Will, Dustin, and Lucas, or Max, or Holly's friends. She graciously accepts, noting that she often stays over at people's houses, like Steve's, so she has a spare pair of pajamas in her backpack.
"You could just keep it here," Nancy suggests, as if it were normal, obvious, and no big deal.
"And take advantage of your washing machine, just like that? Never!"
Ultimately, however, she recognizes the value of Nancy's suggestion when she realizes that the pajamas are not in her backpack, and it is too late to retrieve them.
"What is the issue here? Nance can drive you to get them," Mrs. Wheeler politely suggests.
"Unfortunately, I'm not sure if I left them at home or at... well, anyway, I couldn't go back to get them. Not at this hour."
She blushes intensely, so Nancy is able to discern the location of the missing pajamas. Since it is just after sunset and Vickie's house is quite close to the Wheelers', Nancy considers the possibility that there might be another reason why Robin is unable to retrieve them.
"You couldn't get them even in broad daylight, could you?," she says, as they sit down on their usual sofas.
Robin, on the other hand, doesn't blush this time, She simply looks up, her expression conveying a hint of surprise. As always, Nancy is one step ahead of her, or at least that is how it appears to her. As always, she can read her like an article in the newspaper, like a scoop, like the news of the day.
"How the hell can you be so damn perceptive?! It's unnerving."
"I would appreciate it if you would be mindful of your choice of words, Buckley. My mother is sleeping upstairs."
"Two floors up," Robin offers, with a slight smile.
"It seems you have a great deal of knowledge about my house, as you clearly spend a considerable amount of time here. Perhaps you could consider spending it at your girlfriend's house, for instance."
"Believe me, my girlfriend wouldn't agree with you right now."
Silence falls. Nancy's eyes seem to penetrate her head, like X-rays passing through her, as she stares at her red Converse, keeping her gaze fixed on the floor. However, Nancy refrains from probing further; she is merciful tonight. For tonight, she decides to conclude the investigation and offers a potential solution.
"I'll go get you some of Mike's pajamas. You're too tall to wear mine," she says, standing up immediately.
Robin glances up from the floor and observes Nancy get absorbed by Jonathan's yellow T-shirt, dancing around in it. She does look like a little girl. This thought gently eases the intensity of Robin's initial impression, as it contrasts starkly with the image of Nancy taking on a leadership role, brandishing a rifle, and offering herself as bait, or being emotionally manipulated by Vecna to serve as an ambassador, learning resilience, maintaining a calm, composed, organized, and almost detached state to overcome these challenges.
The truth is that Nancy is only twenty years old, just like her. She just became an adult on paper and had to grow up earlier than other kids. She has collected so many life experiences that she is fully satisfied. She has seen many friends die and many people she cared about drift away. She has had to abandon the child within her who should have had every right to remain so. But she is still only twenty.
Now, she floats in the yellow T-shirt, convinced she is a failure. Robin knows this because she recognizes the feeling immediately. It's written in every bone of Nancy's body and made visible by the way she starves herself, meal after meal and pound after pound. Something tells Robin that what happened with Jonathan is just the last straw, but the camel's back was broken long before that.
"No, wait," Robin says before she can stop herself.
"Mhm?" Nancy is already heading up the stairs but stops and turns her head back to look at Robin over her own shoulder.
Robin gets up from "her" sofa and approaches Nancy's. There, on the armrest, lies the faded Clash T-shirt. Robin doesn't ask; she just picks it up, unfolds it, holds it against her chest, and smooths it over herself. It looks like it will fit her perfectly. She looks up to meet Nancy's eyes, silently asking for permission.
Nancy's face changes at least ten times, displaying expressions of amazement, horror, awareness, curiosity, and, finally, agreement. In the end, she nods, perhaps too wearily. What reason would she have left to object? As she continues to watch and scrutinize Robin, she can't find one. First, Robin takes off her Michael Jackson T-shirt, then the shirt underneath. She remains in her bra, without any modesty or restraint. A few moments later, she puts on the Clash T-shirt, and something inside Nancy finally falls into place. It's like a puzzle piece that was placed randomly by inexperienced hands until an expert arrives and puts it in the right place without thinking.
The T-shirt fits Robin well; it's almost too small, squeezing her chest and bothering her. Nancy then sees Robin reach behind her back, under the fabric, she hears the snap of the bra hook and watches her take it off and throw it carelessly onto the sofa. Shortly afterward, Robin sits down again in the middle of the pile of blankets. Now, the T-shirt fits her so well that Nancy finds herself thinking, "How much longer do I want to keep her away from a garment that was clearly designed for her?"
Nancy feels a new warmth burning her neck. She is still slightly shaken by the way Robin took the T-shirt, stripping it of its peculiar, secret meaning and taking away Nancy's vivid memory of everything that went wrong between her and Jonathan.
"We finally found you some pajamas to keep here," Nancy whispers.
Robin may not have solved Nancy's problems, but damn if she's not helping her do it.
*
The following week, it happens again. This time, Robin invites herself over, saying, "I already have my pajamas here, don't I?"
When she comes down to the basement, she's wearing one of her light-colored shirts as a jacket over a T-shirt and jeans. She then comes back up wearing Mike's old Bermuda shorts and the Clash T-shirt, causing Nancy's heart to skip a beat. Nancy feels like she's only just beginning to see Robin, while Robin has always seen her. This is probably not true. At some point, Robin must have hated her, especially when she unintentionally pushed Barb away so she could become her best friend.
This thought devastates Nancy to the point that she has to take refuge in the kitchen for a moment and consider filling a glass with vodka, as she would have done with Jonathan if he had lit a joint.
Robin pretends not to notice, but she loves to observe, and she immediately sees the dark cloud descending on Nancy's face. She knows that there won't be a detective to expose her lies tonight. She has to do it herself with Nancy if she wants her to talk to her and cross that invisible line they've drawn. They've spent all this time together on the condition that they don't talk about trauma, Vecna, demogorgons, or broken relationships.
She gives Nancy time to make a decision - and she makes the wrong one for both of them. She fills two glasses with white wine, a drink Karen hasn't had since a Demogorgon kidnapped her daughter almost without her noticing because she was so drunk - then joins a few minutes later, calmly. She turns on the radio and plays a rock station with slow, delicate love ballads—even sad ones—that seem to match their mood.
They can stay quietly in the kitchen because the Wheelers—plus Mike and Holly—have gone to dinner at the Byers'/Hopper. Nancy preferred to avoid it and asked Robin to have dinner with her instead. Afterwards, Robin invited herself to stay the night.
"You know," Nancy begins without preamble after sipping her wine halfway, "Barb cared for you. Right?"
Robin freezes mid-motion, glass raised and bent toward her mouth. She abruptly sets it down on the table and turns to Nancy with a shocked look. She doesn't respond immediately, carefully weighing her words before speaking. But, clearly, because it's Robin, her good intentions are lost.
"All I know is that there wasn't a good reason for us to drift apart. It just happened. It was like when autumn leaves fall from the branches and to the ground. Any one of them could fall; you can't know which one. Maybe you thought it would be the driest, most shriveled leaf, but in the end, it's the orange one—the big, wide, incredibly thick leaf—that falls first. Why? Who knows?."
"I think that's exactly how it went. But what I'm asking you is if you know that Barb continued to care."
Robin drinks her wine slowly, unsure why Nancy is talking about such a thing right now. There are no obvious triggers; it's spring, far from the time when Barb was kidnapped or her birthday.
"Don't say it, Nance..."
"I'm not just saying it. I really mean it. I saw how she looked at you when you walked down the hallway to your locker. A couple of times, she's shared memories with me about doing nice things with you."
Nancy doesn't really know what she's saying. She only knows that seeing Jonathan's T-shirt on Robin pushes her beyond limits she didn't know she was setting for herself. In a way, it was the cage she had imposed on herself. The very act of breaking up was aimed at being free and feeling good, certainly not at trapping herself.
However, Nancy knows how to trap herself in her own mind very well. She puts herself in all the cages she finds. To demonstrate, she finishes her drink, opens a specific kitchen cabinet door, and reaches all the way in to pull out a bottle of vodka from behind a thick row of well-preserved oil bottles. It is half empty, which makes Robin wonder how long it has been there, forgotten by Karen — or, she suspects, Nancy.
Nancy leans against the stove with her back to Robin, who is sitting at the table. The lamp illuminates her gently, highlighting the curve of her shoulders, which are slightly covered by her long hair, as well as her hips. Robin wisely keeps her eyes away from them. Tonight, however, as Nancy turns and stands slightly sideways in front of her, lifting the bottle of vodka and drinking directly from it, Robin's eyes slide down, tracing Nancy's entire silhouette as one would a beautiful sculpture displayed in the corner of a museum, far from prying eyes, yet right under the gaze of true connoisseurs.
Robin finally looks away, distracted by the radio, when she realizes she is lingering too long with her eyes on the movement of Nancy's throat as she takes small but full sips of hard liquor. She turns up the volume just in time to hear the next song: "Behind Blue Eyes" by The Who.
"You know," Nancy finally says, her voice slightly uncertain and almost burned by the heat of the alcohol, "sometimes I just think that if Barb had stayed your friend, she'd still be alive."
Robin trembles violently in her chair as an ice-cold shiver shakes her. She would like to respond, but Nancy has left her speechless. Moments like this have been rare in Robin's life. She speaks four languages, yet she can't utter a word in any of them now.
Nancy drinks until she is satisfied with her blood alcohol level. Then, she puts the bottle on the counter, leaves the room, and goes down to their refuge. She walks down the stairs so lightly that Robin doesn't hear her.
"No one knows what it's like to be the bad man. To be the sad man behind blue eyes," the radio sings.
Robin feels something break inside her chest because, deep down, she agrees with Nancy. She thought so when she heard about Barb's death—or rather, when she heard that Nancy was with her that night at Steve's party. Robin learned these things from Steve, not Nancy. Robin learned about it before they became friends, and they never discussed the subject after that.
'No one knows what it's like to be hated, to be fated to telling only lies'.
She doesn't notice how white her knuckles have become from clenching the glass until she hears a strange cracking sound. She loosens her grip, realizing she has also been holding her breath. The words of the song push her to face the situation like an adult, not a drunk teenager. Without thinking, she empties the bottle of vodka into the sink, peels off the label, crumples it up, and slips it into her pocket. She places the bottle with the other empty glass bottles to be disposed of.
Taking the label, the radio, and the song with her, she goes downstairs and finds Nancy sitting on the floor between the two sofas, her hands in her hair and her head tucked between her bent knees. She's not crying. She's not making a sound. She's just sitting there, tiny in Jonathan's yellow T-shirt, now relegated to being just pajamas and no longer her second skin. Still, in this pose, where everything about her appears small—even her clothing—Robin gets the impression that Nancy could disappear into herself, sucked into her own bones.
"You've stopped eating," Robin accuses her from the stairs and places the radio on the bottom step, right in the middle, almost as if it were a barrier in case one of them tries to run away. But she knows they won't. This is finally the time for confrontation, for truth, and for pain.
"What is this, an interrogation?" Nancy replies sharply. Her tone is firm, contrasting with her posture, which seems fragile but is actually a protective shell.
"I'm not asking; I'm calling you out," Robin continues, moving closer.
"Fine. If we're stating facts, you're breaking up with Vickie."
There it is again: Nancy's insight, which usually excites her but right now just pisses Robin off. She finds it unfair and inappropriate.
"You couldn't wait for Jonathan to leave you."
"Vickie is afraid of losing you."
"It's not Vickie who fears this. You do."
Nancy looks up for a moment and gives her a poisonous look, her blue eyes growing as dark as the depths of the ocean.
"Why do you want to break up with her? Don't you love her anymore?" she hisses, more to defend herself than accuse Robin, completely ignoring the turn the argument was taking.
"It's precisely because I love her that I have to leave her."
"You're full of shit."
"No, I'm telling the truth. I have to leave her because I don't want her to limit her dreams by trying to make a long-distance relationship with me work. You know how it feels. It's exactly the same reason your relationship ended.”
Nancy is silent, unable to argue with the truth of her words. Robin is right; it's true. Nancy is the one lying now. Once, it was Robin with her notebook of lies, excuses, and secrets. But now, Robin is so free that it scares Nancy. Robin almost shines with her own light, leaving Nancy breathless and filled with envy.
Nancy is trapped, despite destroying the bridge, sacrificing herself, saving Holly, and protecting everyone. Nancy has been trapped in her own fears ever since Vecna entered her mind and revealed her true self and the potential consequences of being her friend.
"But my dreams aren't as empty as my conscience seems to be," the radio continues. Nancy dwells on every word, losing sight of Robin when she lowers her face between her knees again, clenching her fists tightly.
"You've stopped eating," Robin repeats, kneeling in front of Nancy. "But it's not just about Jonathan, is it?"
Nancy doesn't answer, but Robin sees an angry tear glistening in the soft light of the abat-jour. Robin can't expect more, knowing that alcohol is Nancy's way of hardening herself, and it's still too early to really talk about it.
"True," Nancy whispers. The radio fades into a less gloomy, more cheerful rhythm, but they both remain serious. Nancy is closed off, smaller than ever, and Robin looms over her. Robin is wrapped in Jonathan's T-shirt, which was once Nancy's weakness and is now just a memory.
Robin approaches, crawling on her bare knees across the floor. She reaches out and grabs Nancy's clenched fists, wrapping them in her own. Her fingertips find Nancy's knuckles and apply gentle pressure, forcing Nancy to open her fists, lower her arms, stretch her legs out in front of her, and look at Robin.
"Everything will be fine, Nance. I won't leave you. Jonathan and Steve won't either. We just need to get ourselves together.”
Nancy doesn't reply; she just throws herself forward. She collapses straight into Robin's arms and then laughs with that drunken yet alert sound—unhealthy yet sincere. Robin grabs her as she has for all these weeks and nights, albeit from a distance. She holds her tightly, then effortlessly lifts her and pushes her to sit down on the sofa, and finally to lie down. Nancy keeps her eyes closed, and a small, unhappy smile crosses her face. At least she lets herself be carried and cared for.
"I want to try something, but don't get angry," Robin murmurs cautiously.
Nancy nods. What else can she do? Robin has exposed her, but she hasn't humiliated her. She has only listened to her, understood her, and held her close. So when she sits down beside her, grabs the edge of Jonathan's yellow T-shirt, and starts to lift it up, Nancy remains motionless and breathless. She doesn't even protest. In fact, she leans forward to assist Robin, helping her remove the garment in a fluid...right way.
Robin rolls it up under her arms and pulls it off almost gracefully, leaving her half-naked in shorts and a bra. She doesn't linger with her gaze, doesn't sexualize her body, judge her, or desire her. If there's anything she desires about Nancy, it's her mind. She just looks at her.
She messily folds the yellow T-shirt and throws it on the other sofa. Immediately afterward, Robin gets up and fetches two clean T-shirts from a cupboard: one that actually belonged to Nancy, which will fit her perfectly without making her look like a small buoy floating in an immense sea, and one belonging to Mike. She returns to the sofa and places the T-shirts on the armrest. Unaware that she is now illuminated by the lamp with the same magic with which the kitchen light embraced Nancy's body before, she takes off her Clash T-shirt and throws it on top of the other one. Then, she just stands before Nancy's shocked eyes, bare-chested.
"Tomorrow, we'll wash and hang up the T-shirts. If you want, you can iron them. You can take as much care as you like because it will be the last time. Then, I'll take them back to Jonathan's house myself. I'll give them to Will so he won't notice, and this gesture won't be given more importance than it deserves. Okay?"
Nancy feels her heart pounding in her chest and her breath racing. She struggles to respond and even to move. She remains in her bra and shorts for a few more minutes, unable to take her eyes off Robin's figure standing before her. Robin stands like Aphrodite must have stood before Paris, offering him what he had always desired.
Once she has composed herself, she simply nods. Then they both get dressed. Tonight, Robin doesn't sleep on the other sofa; she lies next to Nancy. For the first time in a long time, Nancy stops feeling guilty.