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Ring.
Ring, ring ring.
Ring.
The persistent jingling of the telephone jostles her awake.
Nancy’s eyelids peel open, her eyes blurred with slumber. She'd be lying if she said sleep came easy to her these days. Most nights are unbearably long and restless, consisting of aggravatingly frequent tossing and turning. Nightmares plague her mind and her every waking moment. Coffee has become a staple in her morning routine—and her afternoon. And evening.
Although tonight has been better, and her dreams have whisked her away into a restful darkness.
Ring. Ring.
Well, so much for that.
She huffs, shoving her warm, dense comforter down and out from where it has been wedged between her chin and torso. She drops her head to the side obnoxiously, eyeing the alarm clock that perches on the table at her bedside.
3:27am.
Who on earth calls someone at this hour in the night? Does it even count as nighttime anymore?
Ring.
Nancy clambers out of bed, tripping over copious amounts of blankets that have become twisted around her limbs as she sleeps. She has never been one to stay still while she rests; she kicks and rolls—and, to Jonathan’s misfortune, sometimes even punches. She doesn’t bother to slide her slippers on as she marches out of her bedroom, too focused on stopping the ear-piercing drone of the telephone.
As she passes her vanity, Nancy catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her pajama shirt has slipped halfway off of one shoulder and her pant legs are bundled at her knees. She clumsily kicks at the fabric, sliding it semi-successfully back down her leg.
Her hair is tangled into a hive-like state. Rogue curls moistly stick to the top of her forehead and are pinned down to the sides of her face with sweat. She picks a particularly long strand out from the corner crease of her lips, it unravels from inside of her mouth. Sticking her tongue out in distaste, she attempts to rid it of the fuzzy feeling the hair leaves.
Ring, ring, ring.
Jesus Christ. Whoever was on the other end of the line sure was insistent on getting Nancy to pick up.
She slips out of her room and into the hallway, switching on the lamp nearest to her. It flickers a dim amber, illuminating where she stands groggily. She folds her arms habitually before reaching a hand out.
Ring.
Nancy picks up the phone.
“Uh, Nancy Wheeler speaking,” she rattles out her usual answering line, proper and matter-of-fact. Except, unlike usual, her voice comes out croaky, still laced with lethargy. She cringes—she hopes there’s no one important on the other end.
Silence.
Neither her or the caller makes a move to speak. Impatiently, Nancy skids her feet across the hardwood floor, tracing out little shapes with her toes.
Still no response.
She tuts and turns to jam the phone back onto the cradle when she hears tiny, clipped gasps on the other end.
Shit.
She yanks the phone back to her ear. This was someone important. Nancy would recognise those squeaks anywhere—she’d grown up hearing them.
Mike was calling.
“Mike?” She coaxes gently, although she really doesn’t have to ask. “Is that you?”
Deep, heaving breaths buzz through the receiver. It's definitely her little brother calling—she was sure of it. She waits for a moment in case he decides to speak before she presses.
“Is everything okay?” She asks, voice still soft.
The breathing fades slightly as if the person on the line has stepped away from the handheld. A strained gulp vibrates into her eardrums. Then, abruptly, there’s no sound coming through the phone.
Suddenly awake, Nancy immediately begins to panic. She squeezes the telephone between her ear and the top of her shoulder as she rummages around the hallway for her shoes. Manoeuvring around the curling chord, she retrieves her sneakers and hastily drops to the ground—yanking them onto her feet carelessly without untying the laces.
“Mike, are you safe?” She swaps the phone to the other side as she begins to slip on her remaining shoe. “Do you need me to come get you?”
A miniscule sob stops her frantic questions. She pauses, two fingers wedged between her heel and the back of her sneaker. She listens for a response—for a sign he’s okay.
“Are you alright?” She whispers.
Nancy knows she sounds frightened and concerned, she can’t help it. Since leaving Hawkins, being so far from her brother has been hard. She constantly worries about him. About if he’s taking care of himself properly, or if he’s spiralling out of control again. They talk often—well, as often as they can.
Although Mike has never done this before. He’s never called so late and he’s never been so timid with her. Nancy knows he’s technically an adult now, but he’s still her baby brother—nothing could ever change that.
“Mike?” She tries again, her throat bubbling. She hates this. She hates not knowing how to fix things.
More heavy breathing blows through the receiver.
A shaky sob.
And a response.
“I’m gay.”
A scared weep rattles into her ear and Nancy’s chest squeezes. Her ribs cave in, shards of bone piercing her heart at the harrowing sound of Mike’s sobs. She slides backwards across the floor and rests her back onto the wall, one shoe still halfway on. She shakily exhales an air she didn’t realise had been aching in her lungs.
Fuck.
A saltiness coats her lips, she wipes at her damp cheeks firmly with the sleeve of her shirt. She isn’t sure when she started crying—she can’t seem to stop. She opens her mouth to speak and only a crackle comes out before Mike cuts in.
“I’m sorry, Nance. I’m really sorry, I swear I am,” he blubbers, hyperventilating. Nancy can’t get a word in edgeways over his agonising apologies. “I’m sorry. I tried—I really tried to stop. I tried to be—to be—be normal. I’m—Nancy, I’m just so—so scared.”
Nancy sobs. A hand flies to her mouth to muffle the sound of her cries. Tears cascade down her face, seeping through the gaps in her fingers, pooling beneath her chin. Mike has gone silent apart from the occasional short and wet hiccup. Her brain races away from her body as she chases to grasp the situation.
Except Nancy knows exactly what she’s going to say. It’s almost as if her mind had been preparing subconsciously—truthfully, she just never knew if the day would come. She could never be quite sure of it. Despite this, the words struggle to come out, itching the tip of her tongue. She chews at her bottom lip and steels her resolve. She tips her head back against the wallpaper, and it thumps loudly.
Nancy inhales, breath quivering. Everything is going to be okay.
“I love you, Mike,” she tenderly affirms, “and nothing will ever, ever change that. Do you hear me? Especially not this.” She sniffles, the tears beginning to gather behind her eyelids again. “I am so proud of you.”
Mike sobs with her.
Their parents and friends had always said the two of them were painstakingly similar in a multitude of ways. They look the same, they talk the same, they act the same. Nancy and Mike Wheeler, both headstrong and stubborn. Both selfless leaders. Both bossy and quick-tempered. Both creative and articulate. Both calculated and witty. Both courageous.
Nancy disagrees on that last one.
Mike is braver than she’ll ever be.
“There is nothing wrong with you, Mike. You are normal—,” she cuts herself off and laughs wetly, “Well, actually you’re not very normal but—but that’s not because—because you’re gay.”
She swallows. The word isn’t foreign to her but, still, she takes a pause. She can’t let it come out wrong. She doesn’t want to scare him because there’s nothing to be scared of here. Nancy still loves him. And it’s not despite the fact he’s gay—that makes it sound like there’s something wrong with being gay. There’s not. She still loves him because why wouldn’t she?
It’s part of who Mike is.
And Nancy loves everything about him.
“It’s because you’re my weirdo baby brother and nothing will ever change that,” she reiterates, adoration seeping through her vocal chords. She wills a hug to him. She hopes Mike can feel it. “You will never lose me.That’s a promise.”
A silence hangs on the line.
Nancy nervously wraps the chord around her pointer finger. She hopes she’s said the right thing. She prays Mike is still on the other end. She sniffles, patiently waiting on a sign of life from across the country.
The silence feels everlasting.
Until Mike speaks.
“I love you so much, Nance.”
His voice is trembling and airy. She can hear the upset in his throat and the telltale crunching noise of him chewing at his fingernails. A bad habit Mike’s had since he was a kid. Usually she’d reprimand him for it—she lets it slide this once.
Mike continues, his voice muffled by, what Nancy only assumes to be, the fingertips in his mouth, “Thank you. I’m so—Fuck. I’m so sorry.”
His voice cracks and Nancy’s emotions threaten to spill over again. She can’t bear to listen to him croak out a sincere apology for something that doesn’t require even a fake one.
She wishes she could scoop him into her arms like she would when they were younger. Stroke his hair and swear to him that everything is going to work out just fine. Nancy needs to protect him. She needs to see him in person. She needs to go home—not yet, but soon. She’ll drive there in the morning.
“Mike, please stop saying you’re sorry. You haven’t done anything wrong.”
“But—”
“No buts!” Nancy cuts him off before he can justify his apologies. She refuses to let him continue feeling like this is wrong. Like there’s something wrong with him. The thought drags her heart down to her gut. She sighs, “Listen. I’ve shot people—”
A bewildered laugh reverberates through the phone. Nancy huffs, amused as well, but bulldozes on. She has a point to make here.
“Stop—No, listen,” she chuckles, “I’ve shot people…with a gun. Multiple times. If anyone here has done anything wrong and should be apologising for it, it’s me. Have I once said sorry for shooting someone? No! Will I ever? Absolutely not!”
Mike bursts into a fit of giggles, “Nancy, this is the dumbest connection you could be making right now. Me being gay and you being a demon with a gun is not the same thing!”
A contagious hilarity descends on them. The awful signal causing Mike’s crackling laugh to cut in and out is making this so much funnier. Nancy clutches at her stomach, a stupid grin plastered on her face. This is better. Hearing Mike finally laugh makes her heart swoop, a joy thrumming through her veins. She’s aware Mike is still terrified—but not of her. That matters to her the most right now. They can work out the extra details later.
“So…” She drags out mischievously, kicking her sneakers off. God, she really did love her brother—putting on shoes with no socks should be a crime.
“So..?” He returns, an inquisitive tone wavers through his words. He’s onto her.
“Feel free to shut me down here.”
“Uh huh?”
“Got any cute boys on your radar?”
There’s a deafening clatter on the other end.
Mike lets out painful yelp and a string of curses. Nancy assumes he’s dropped his phone on his foot.
There’s a resounding scramble as he presumably flusters to pick the phone back up. It clangs against whatever he has in his room. Mike fumbles, losing his grip on the receiver repeatedly—it falls a couple more times before he has a solid grip back on it.
“Nancy!” Mike squawks dramatically. “You can’t—Oh my god, you’re unbelievable.”
“What?” She exclaims, feigning offence, “Can’t your big sister be interested in your love life?”
Nancy wiggles her eyebrows and pokes her tongue out evilly. Despite Mike not being able to see her, he knows exactly what she’s doing.
“Stop making that face.”
“I’m not making a face!”
“Nancy.” Mike warns.
She groans and collapses to the floor. She sprawls out, gazing at the ceiling, “Ugh! God forbid I want a little bit of gossip.”
A comfortable quiet falls over them.
Nancy’s eyelids begin to flutter shut. A weight has been lifted off of her shoulders despite her not doing anything. Her baggage is still heavy but she’ll take that any day if it means Mike can live light. She can feel herself starting to drift, her nerves relaxing as she sinks into the hardwood of her hallway.
Mike clears his throat.
“Well—Uhm, there is—There is this one guy.”
Nancy’s eyes snap open.
Fuzzy stars cloud her vision as she shoots up way too quickly. She clutches the phone to her ear with both hands, eager to hear more. Why have her palms gotten so sweaty? Why is she so invested in this?
“Go on,” Nancy smirks as she gets situated snugly in her new sitting position. She rests her elbows on her knees, leaning into the handheld.
Mike falters but she can tell he’s considering it. A whispered “fuck it” ebbs through the speaker.
“Yeah, so—Uh, he’s really sweet and he’s a super good friend,” Nancy nods along, humming as Mike gushes about this mystery boy, “He’s talented and, like, scarily funny. We’ve uhm—Uh, known each other for quite a while so it’s not like—Like a one night stand or anything—.”
Before she can stop herself, Nancy cackles. She slaps a hand over her mouth. “Sorry, sorry! It was just—Sorry, please continue.”
Hearing her brother talk about having a crush is exhilarating. She hasn’t heard him this giddy in a long time. To her relief, Mike snorts.
“Right, anyway, I really like him, Nance. He's the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen,” a sincere admission—one he’s clearly been holding in for a while. “I think—I think that—”
He gulps.
“I think I’m in love with him.”
Nancy inhales pointedly.
Holy shit.
The words crash through her in one giant wave, sweeping her out into her thoughts. When she washes up, it truly dawns on her. This isn’t just a silly crush. She knows her brother, this isn’t how he usually feels about relationships. He really tries, she isn’t saying he doesn’t. It’s just that… Mike isn’t the in love type. She can say this because she gets it—she wasn’t for a long time either. He’s flakey and distant, he won’t admit when he’s wrong. She knows that Mike knows he’s not the best at playing boyfriend.
When Mike and Jane broke up, Nancy was the first person he came to. She expected him to be heartbroken, grovelling and asking her all the tactics he should apply to win his girlfriend back. Except he didn’t do that. He was strangely content. He’d admitted to her that he loved Jane, just not in the right way–and that was that. Nancy had hugged him, told him she was always there for him, and then they never brought it up again.
Thinking about the Jane-Mike situation now clarifies a lot for her. Maybe Mike is the loving type. He had just gotten it wrong the first time—picked the wrong person. Picked the girl when he should’ve picked the boy.
Huh.
The boy.
Oh my god.
Mike is in love with Will.
“Uh, Nance, you there?”
Mike’s wary voice snaps her back into reality. She’d been silent for an abnormal amount of time. Her brain works overtime to analyse the sudden realisation—this epiphany. How did she not work it out sooner? It all made sense.
Mike and Will had always been closer than the rest of their little group, even when Mike and Jane were still together. Their fights were always more serious, their hangouts more intimate. Mike had never cried over a disagreement with Lucas, had never held Dustin’s hand when he was scared. He had, however, done all of these with Will. They came as a pair.
Mike and Will.
Will and Mike.
She kicks herself for being so blind.
“Yup! I’m here,” her voice cracks as she answers way too hastily, “Sorry, I was just…thinking.”
“Thinking?” Mike coaxes, and suspicion plagues the question, “Thinking about—”
“Nothing, I’m being stupid,” She cuts the idea off, unsure of if it would be wrong to ask if the mystery boy is Will—if the person he is in love with is Will.
“Just you being Nancy, then,” Mike teases, attempting to aggravate her.
Usually she’d bite, a scolding response followed by a fit of giggles. But this time she’s too lost in enlightenment.
She had to ask, but maybe he’d tell her if she was smart about it. Would it be an invasion of his privacy if she interrogated him about Will? Perhaps Mike was waiting for her to ask—maybe he wanted to talk about it. The more she ponders on the concept of Mike and Will, the more puzzle pieces that slot together in her brain.
When Will went missing, Mike jumped to investigate, even if it meant disobeying their parents. She’d never admit it, but at the time Nancy thought her little brother was pretty cool for it—dismantling their nuclear family brick by brick. A memory flashes into focus of her aged sixteen at the dinner table, awkwardly sitting in on an argument between Mike and their dad.
“You see, Michael? You see what happens?” Her dad spits out between mouthfuls of food.
She picks at her dinner, swirling her fork around her plate trying to disengage from the conversation. Mike slams his cutlery down.
“What happens when what? I’m the only one that’s acting normal here! I’m the only one that cares about Will!”
She had never fully understood what her dad had been getting at. The snide comment about Will’s disappearance had been infrequent but harsh. You see what happens? Her lungs seize, she’s starting to get it now.
It wasn’t only when he went missing–Mike was always jumping to protect Will. Constantly putting himself in danger if it meant he could be by his side.
Mike came home aged six with scraped knees and elbows after catching Will when he jumped off of the swingset. He’d been successful—if successful meant breaking Will’s fall with his body. At the age of twelve he sported a gnarly gash on his chin after being thrown to the floor by his bullies while defending Will. It left a reminder in the form of a scar. And more recently, aged sixteen, he’d risked being mauled by a demogorgon if it meant he could carry Will to safety—though Will had ended up saving Mike that time around.
It reminds Nancy of herself and Jonathan—back when he punched Steve for humiliating her in front of their friends. Way back to when he had gotten himself arrested for her.
Only love makes you that crazy, sweetheart. And that damn stupid.
She guesses that the Byers and Wheelers are destined to go crazy together.
“Mike, can I ask you something?” Nancy probes gently, tracing circles onto her kneecaps, “Just please—Please don’t freak out on me, okay?”
There’s shuffling on the other end. The scuffing of shoes on floorboards as if Mike is pacing anxiously. She attempts to calm his nerves.
“It’s nothing… Nothing bad,” she reassures carefully, “And you don’t have to answer, just—Just humour me for a second?”
Mike swallows, “Okay, shoot.”
Nancy hesitates. She could just leave it be and not meddle in his love life like an overbearing sister would. Although, something niggles inside her, an instinct to press on. She brings her voice to a whisper, forming a secret between them.
“It’s Will, isn’t it?”
A sharp inhale on the other side affirms her suspicions. She was right on the money. A pride from within soars, it crashes against her bones. Even in a situation like this her deep rooted need to be right all the time takes front and centre.
She is Nancy Wheeler after all.
“What—Uh, what is—What’s Will?” Mike chokes out, he truly was a tragic liar.
“The guy you’re in love with. It’s Will,” it comes out as a statement; she isn’t asking anymore. Nancy is determined to stop beating around the bush. They’d promised each other no more secrets back when the world was ending. That they would tell each other everything.
That promise remained intact–and Nancy wouldn’t let this be the thing to break it.
Mike squeaks.
“Nancy—”
“Mike, you don’t have to hide from me,” she affirms, soothingly, “I know what it’s like to fall in love with a Byers,” she pauses as Jonathan’s soft image blurs across her vision, “they make it impossible not to.”
Nancy suppresses the cringe that twitches within her. She can’t believe she’s being this vulnerable with him, but this is what Mike needs right now. It feels good saying it out loud—maybe she needed this too.
The silence is familiar now. The buzz of the telephone hums between their ears, connects them even when they aren’t speaking to one another—both taking their time to respond, every answer carefully curated.
Mike breaks through the crackle of the line.
“They really do,” he sighs, a weak laugh surrounding his confession.
Nancy can hear the smile in his voice and it makes her feel unbelievably giddy. Honestly, she’s been hoping for something like this to happen. She’s brought up the idea to Jonathan before, framing it as a reason for Mike’s weird behaviour towards his brother. He had immediately shut the concept down.
Will is gay, Nancy. Mike isn’t. He’s just an asshole.
Clearly, those two things can be true at once.
She barely contains a squeal of delight as she kicks her feet in the air like she’s an excited little girl again. Her lungs beg to explode out of her chest, air trapped within them in exhilaration. She bites her bottom lip to suppress her embarrassingly enthusiastic grin.
She cannot wait to see the look on Jonathan’s face.
“So…when are you going to tell him?” She asks, eagerly.
“Um—I’m not—I wasn’t planning to,” Mike murmurs back, trying to hide his disappointment.
Nancy squawks and jumps to her feet. She begins to pace back and forth, aggravation creeping up on her.
“What!” She shrieks in disbelief, forgetting the time of day. Wincing, she prays her neighbors didn’t hear and continues in a hushed voice, “Are you crazy? Why not?”
“Just because Will’s gay doesn’t mean he’s attracted to me!” Mike flusters.
Nancy barely holds back a face palm.
This was the one thing that differed between them—Mike was an oblivious idiot.
“You’re joking, right?” She grits out, “Tell me you’re joking.”
“Uh, no?” He sounds genuinely confused and Nancy can’t contain her laugh of disbelief.
Will’s feelings are obvious to anyone who isn’t Mike. They’d all had conversations about it before—her, Robin, Steve, and Jonathan. Sometimes even Dustin threw in his two cents. It was never anything malicious, obviously, just pure intrigue.
Will had even briefly admitted his feelings back at the radio station.
Nancy doesn’t get it. Surely Mike is aware of the way Will looks at him—as if Mike had hung the moon and stars.
Mike can barely hang up his clean laundry.
“I’m hanging up now,” she jokes as she hovers the handset over the cradle.
“No, Nance, wait!” Mike rushes out in a panic, “I—I want to tell him…”
She returns the speakers to her ear, “But?”
“I don’t want to hurt him.”
That aching sadness that chills her blood is back. God, this is more complicated than she had originally thought. She stops pacing and leans against the doorframe to her bedroom, knocking her temple into the lacquered wood. How can she reassure him when she isn’t even sure herself?
She goes to bite her nails and catches herself. Her polished fingers rest against her lips.
Hypocrite.
Instead of resigning to the old habit, she slides her hand around to the nape of her neck and squeezes the muscle there.
She thinks.
She runs her hand firmly across her collar, drumming her fingertips against the bones there.
She thinks some more.
“Then don’t,” she states, simply.
Mike’s breath hitches, and Nancy wonders if she’s been too harsh, too matter-of-fact. Although there isn’t any other way to put it. She can’t say for sure that Mike won’t hurt Will in some way or another in the future, though he’d just be stupid not to admit his love for him.
She knows Mike has hurt Will in the past, she’s witnessed it firsthand. She also knows Will has hurt Mike—not on purpose, not directly, but that doesn’t mean it hasn’t happened. All of their issues have stemmed from this miscommunication thing they have going on; neither of them want to be wrong about the other’s feelings—or about their own feelings.
Nancy isn’t a stranger to this.
“And if you do, you’ll work it out together, because you’re Mike and Will,” she smooths out the sharp comment from before, “And I don’t think there’s any timeline where you’re not meant to be friends or…something more.”
“God, what will Mom and Dad say—”
“Fuck them!”
Nancy hears Mike gasp a surprised giggle. She doesn’t know where the sudden strength comes from but it’s been brewing inside her for too long. This internal rebellion against her parents begins to seep out from the cracks in her skin.
It feels incredible.
“Who cares what they think? I doubt Mom will even bat an eye and Dad’s too bothered by the TV to open his mind to the fact the world is changing,” She waves an arm around in aggravation, “Their plan for you doesn’t matter… All that matters is that you are who you want to be.”
Her voice cracks with pure adrenaline.
“Who do you want to be, Mike?”
A thick silence hangs over the telephone line.
Nancy pants, the frustration and urgency bubbling over as she begins to calm down. Inhaling shakily, she presses the heel of her hand to her forehead. Her fierceness prickles every nerve across her body, her hands tremble.
Has she crossed the thinline that stretches between them?
There’s no doubt that she has, but it’s exactly what Mike needs.
“I want to be the Mike Wheeler who gets to be in love with Will Byers.”
He sniffs and an adoring, yet bittersweet, laugh bursts from his heart.
“The Mike who gets to be loved back.”
The confession settles the air, the promise between them growing stronger. Nancy smiles softly—she’s never felt prouder.
“Then be him.”
Mike’s laugh continues to flood through the speakers and Nancy falls into laughter alongside him. Relief washes over them, their bond still intact—if not stronger for it. She still can’t believe this is happening on a random Wednesday evening–or, well, Thursday morning. It’s so painfully Wheeler of them.
“I’m going to tell him, Nance. I’m going to do it,” Mike says, determination flowing through his veins.
Nancy snorts, “Maybe wait till the morning.”
“I’m not going to do it right now!” He snaps back with an unbelievable amount of sass, “I’m not an idiot!”
“You keep telling yourself that.”
The sap could only last so long, they are siblings after all and Nancy has the overbearing, annoying big sister role to play.
Mike knows she’s messing with him. He knows she loves him profusely.
Although, he doesn’t know the sheer amount of admiration she has for him—it’s impossible to articulate.
“Yeah, yeah, I love you too, Nancy,” Mike grins.
Nancy grins back, ecstatic, “Love you more.”
They stay on the telephone line for a while longer. The conversation comes easy to them and a new freedom glows around their words. They chat about silly things, like how Mike spilled a coffee down the same person twice in one shift—being a graceful barista is not one of his strong suits. About the more serious things, like how Nancy’s professors are ‘god-honest assholes’ and how she cannot wait to sink her teeth into the real world. Each of them share anecdotes they’ve yet to tell each other.
Although they have been catching up, it has never really been more than a ‘hello’, a couple of questions and reassurances, and then a ‘talk soon’.
Out of the blue, Mike asks if they can do this more often. Nancy doesn’t think twice before she agrees.
She feels like they’re kids again—when they’d look after one another when times got rough at home. How Mike would sneak into Nancy’s room at night, standing in the doorframe, the moon illuminating his little figure. Whether it was a nightmare; or their parents were arguing; or he just wanted to feel warmth, it didn’t matter to her. Nancy would throw her covers back without a word and he’d clamber in. Those nights were the most restful she’s ever had.
She goes to bring this up to Mike when she’s cut off—
By an earth-shaking snore.
Mike had fallen asleep on the line, the emotional exhaustion from the past hour finally catching up to him.
Nancy holds back a cackle. Mike has the most obnoxious snores she’s ever heard—they suit him perfectly.
A cosy warmth tugs her heartstrings tightly. The thought that Mike feels safe enough to fall asleep on the phone with her, after what must’ve been so many sleepless nights toiling over telling someone the truth, makes her feel so accomplished.
Mike’s hardships definitely aren’t over but she’s delighted that he can come to her for advice now. That she can help unravel his spiral when it becomes too rigid to untangle alone. That they can admit anything to each other—a sibling pact.
Nancy can be the big sister that she wants to be again.
Mike can be who he was always meant to be, despite his past confusion and panic.
After so many years of being scared, she’s glad they’ve reached this point.
The point where love can defeat fear.
Nancy’s eyelids flutter shut as she lets herself drift off.
Finally, she sleeps.