Robin

You were both young when you met. early twenties in a town in Kentucky, in a small public university. it wasn't well known by any means, but it was accredited and trustworthy, and that's all either of you needed when you decided to come.

Max majored in psychology, social work to be exact. you were a [pick your own] major. it was pure happenstance the two of you ever stood in the same room. it was a weekend, most students were off partying or resting for the week ahead. but you and Max had the same plan; study.

The coffee shop you both conveniently decided to plant your roots was the smallest on campus, locally owned and not all that popular. You didn't even notice her at first, until she put her textbooks and papers on the table right next to hers. she wasn't hard to ignore, besides the barley audible music reverberating from her headphones. but for some odd reason, you couldn't take your eyes off her.

Then you started noticing her everywhere. in the quad, in hallways, int he library… she felt like a reoccurring background character that showed up just enough for you yo be drawn to her. weeks after you first saw her face, you found yourself staring her down at a party.

neither of you were party people. hell, you came here to try and get away from the lingering thoughts of the stranger, but you couldn't. the night dragged on as normal, a drink or two but not nearly enough to drown the curiosity. at almost midnight, you decided to turn in, but not before your friend surprised you with a familiar face in tow. their smile was smug, as if they could sense your peculiar attraction to her. "Y/N, this is Max. my partner for that research project, remember?"

Of course you did. they've been complaining about it since before it was assigned, somehow. but now, looking the stranger— now Max— in the eyes, it felt the most entreating project in the world. "Yeah?" you choked, trying and miserably failing to hide your awkwardness. "What, um, whats it about?" Max raised her brow, glancing skeptically at your friend, before starting. "We… haven't gotten very far yet, but—" even as she explained it to you, it made less sense. but sense wasn't important to you in this moment. it was her.

She was shy, awkward, much like you. but their was an air about her that you lacked, an air of calm, of confidence. like her quiet nature was curated and comfortable, not something that she tried to hide or undermine. maybe that's what the feeling was, jealousy? envy, for her ability to seem to unbothered?

But, despite yourself, you egged her on. asking seemingly obvious questions about a project you pretty much knew everything about. How long did it take you to plan this? How are you collecting the data? things you knew and understood, but you just wanted to listen to her voice. to hear her talk in that soft yet somehow biting voice you couldn't stop listening to.

Maybe it was the drinks, maybe it was the adrenaline rush whenever she met your eyes, but boldness surged through you as you blurted "Do you- um, have a ride home? i- i mean its dark and these roads are awful, even with daylight." you immediately snapped your jaw shut, regretting the words the second they escaped your lips.

She shook her head with a casual shrug that felt both relieving and somehow more nerve-racking. "No, i don't. i was just going to walk, i mean its like a quarter of a mile." blood rushed to your cheeks, shaking your own head. "its- its really no problem, i can drop you off. which building do you live in?" you insisted. her nose wrinkled, a gesture you couldn't tell if she was disgusted or considering, before she nodded slowly. "i live in Audubon. if you're offering."

You walked to the car in silence, her hands in the pockets of her zip up, yours fiddling awkwardly with your keys. "this ones mine." you murmured, unlocking your beat up Ford and waiting for her to climb in. the drive was just as quiet as your pre-loaded CD's played. until a familiar song by a familiar artist made her tense up, glancing at the dash at the title as the lyrics sunk into her.

"You're a Kate Bush fan?" she murmured, quiet enough you almost missed it. "oh- yeah. big time." you nodded drumming your fingers against the steering wheel as you drove. "Me too." was all she said before she looked at you. really looked at you. at your features, your hair, your fingers fidgeting. you seemed so… normal. a plainness that she had lacked ever since she stepped foot in Hawkins. maybe you could be good for her, help her feel regular again. then she looked away, as her building came into view.

You parked just outside, swallowing anxiously as you unlocked the car for her. "are you...going to be alright? need me to… i don't know, walk you up?" she huffed a laugh, and shook her head. "I'm alright, thanks." but she didn't leave. she lingered. "do you have a piece of paper?" she asked, casually, as if you were friends.

You nodded, pulling a stack of post-its out of your center console, along with a pen. you watched as she scribbled down numbers, and address. "this is my room number." she said, again, all too casually. if you ever wanted to stop by."

And just like that, she was gone. hopefully she couldn't see in the dark how you never stopped blushing, reeling as you stared down at the numbers as you tried to bit back a smile. and for the first time in a long time, hope bloomed in your chest.

Robin wakes up first, per usual, bright and early. the sun has just began to rise when she’s shaking you awake with a big lazy grin, leaning forward to pepper your face with warm kisses. “Wake up, sleeping beauty.” she teases, her hands trailing down to pet your hair gently as you stirred. “five more minutes…” you mumbled in protest, trying and failing to pull the covers back up over your body.

She whines, rolling over to hop out of bed with cheer and pep in her step. she lets you sleep for just a couple more minutes, instead making her way into the kitchen.

Soon enough, christmas music is wafting through the apartment, her most recent purchase of a Christmas record to lighten the morning. snow dusts the ground outside, a gentle chill making the warmth of the apartment feel all the more cozy.

She’s quick the turn on the stove to the tune of Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas, oiling the pan as she starts to cook up quite the hearty breakfast. eggs, sausages, pancakes, the whole nine yards. the pancakes topped with a generous dusting of cinnamon and sugar.

Breakfast is still hot when she hands it to you in bed on a little tray, kissing your cheeks as she forced you to sit up. gently, she placed the meal on your lap along with your favorite coffee in your favorite christmas mug, the one that looked like a reindeer. she placed a nice fleece blanket around your shoulders and pulled it tight, scooting closer to you in bed. “fit you standards?” she said sheepishly, resting her cheek on your shoulder as you took a bite. you hummed gratefully, and nodded. “it’s perfect.”

Breakfast was delicious, but quick nonetheless as she bounced into the living room, the two of you hand in hand. she sat on the floor, basically wiggling with excitement as you handed her the first present. small, wrapped with a silver bow. she tore it open, a little bit of her tongue poking out in focus and ponder as she opened up the tiny little box, filled with nickel free silver rings. “your old ones were tarnishing anyways.” you said with a little blush, before she pulled you into a hug already. you laughed, quiet, reverent. “are you going to do this after every present?” you teased, but she just nodded, filled with unfamiliar joy.

The morning was slow, calm, unlike any of the christmases of her broken childhood. this christmas was filled with joy, little kisses in between presents, her arms wrapped around you every time you opened something from her. her presents to you weren’t big by any means, but thoughtful. a mixtape of songs you listened to on you first date, little knickknacks of your favorite animal, a poster from your favorite band. all things that said she cared.

As the morning came to an end, you’d find yourself a on the couch, curled up in each others arms as It’s a Wonderful Life played on your tiny television set. the air outside was cold, but once again the apartment was brimming with warmth. Robin could see this future again and again, Christmas after Christmas just like this one. that thought comforted her more than she’d like to admit. but for now, she pulled you closer and kissed the top of your head, the calmest she’d ever been.

Christmas was hard for her growing up. her parents barely had money for presents, so most of her gifts were old stuff repackaged (or stollen stuff) so she never really got that joy of opening new things. there also wasn’t a lot of “christmas cheer”, saying as though her parents hated each other and her. so, she never really associated the season with the joy and happiness that others did.

So, when you came along, she expected Christmas to be just another holiday like always. but when she comes back from a shift at Scoops Ahoy and hears the angelic voices of Bill Crosby and Andy Williams, she’s a little surprised. to see your shared apartment strung up in soft, warm christmas lights and the warm glow of the fireplace wasn’t necessarily what she was expecting to come home to, but she’s intrigued.

She catches you in the middle of cookie baking. shed wrap her arms around your waist and rest her cheek on your shoulder as you roll out dough.

“What kind of cookies are these?” she’d mumble into your neck, exhausted from work and school. “snickerdoodle.” you’d hum, taking a snowflake cookie cuter and pressing it into the dough. she’d wrinkle her nose, inspecting the cookies with a keen eye before perking up and peeling herself off you. “can i do one?” you’d nod, handing her a stocking cuter and hand it to her. you’d have more stocking cookies then any other ones. “they’re the most customizable!” she’d argue.

After that, she was all in on Christmas. gift shopping? she’s strategically keeping a list of everything to get and detailed reasons why each thing was perfect. ice skating? she’d fall more then she’d glide, clinging to you like ivy on a tree. tree decorating? she’s putting the star perfectly on top.

Eventually, Christmas eve would roll around. a chilly winters night, snow dusting the ground outside. she’d rent a new release she got at the video store, Santa Claud: The Movie. she’d cradled you safely in her arms, her cheek pressed against the top of her head as she mumbled about how “David Huddleston did better in Crime Busters..” as she hears your breathing level out and listen to you doze off. she’d hum, scooping you up into her arms and carrying you to bed as she hums your favorite christmas song.

Once she was sure you were fast asleep, she’d sneak back into the living room and just… stare. she’d sit on the floor, staring up at the tree and the small, poorly wrapped gifts littered around it and a home that smells like cookies and pine. the lights glitter and glow as she admires them, and she finds herself overwhelmed with love, gratitude for you. for the joy you’ve brought her, the healing she never thought she was capable of. childlike excitement would rush through her, giddy and real, all she wanted was for the night to end so you could see everything she had prepared. she wouldn’t even realize she was crying until she was back in bed, cozied up and warm in your arms, and your hair seemed a bit wet. she’d sniffle, and laugh at herself as she pulled you closer.

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When you first started dating, she had no clue what it was or what it entailed. she saw your knee, elbow, wrist, etc braces but thought it was some sports thing. whenever she saw you use your crutches was when she really started to think.

She’d lay in bed with you, your head on her chest listening to the rhythmic sound of her beating heart as she absentmindedly played with your hair when she finally asked you about it. a soft, whispered question, far from the eccentric and excitable Robin you knew and loved. she quickly follows up with apologies, rambling on about how it was “inappropriate for her to ask” and how she “didn’t mean to offend, her mouth just goes faster the her brain.” of course, you shut her down and explain it to her, gently. what it is, how it affects you, and she soaks up the information like a sponge.

The next time she hears a little click in your ankle and your subtle wince, she forces you to sit down with her as she takes the seat across from you and takes your leg into her lap. even if you’re in public, she’d massage the sore joint until the swelling went down and you could be back on your feet.

She’d have a plethora of fun bandages on her for every little scratch and cut. accidentally bump into something and tear skin? she’ll ask if you want a puppy bandage or a soccer bandage. she’s your own personal pharmacist, always carrying enough pain medication and joint wraps for more than just you. better safe then sorry!

The first time you fainted in-front of her, it was a hot day. highs of 90° F, little shade. even now as you sat comfortably in the living room, it was still scorching. Robin said something about getting a snack, which you promptly offered to get without second thought. but you stood up too fast, your head starting to spin before your legs gave out and you were right back to where you started. Robin perked up, immediately worried as she moved to pat your face and repeat your name until you woke up. as your eyes fluttered open and met hers, she sighed in relief and immediately brought a water bottle up to your lips, scolding you for “pushing your limits” (which she would quickly apologize for and continue to force-hydrate you).

Panicked for sure. the second you start sniffling she’s rummaging through medicine cabinets to get everything you could possibly need. antihistamines? she’s got it. fever reducer? got it. literally anything? she’s got it. god forbid she runs out of something, she’s brewing up some old handmade concoction to hold you over till she can get to the store

Big tea drinker, so you best believe she has the perfect loose leaf tea to cure your aching throat. a fire cook too, shockingly. she’ll immediately start scowling her recipe books for hot stews or warm meals for the two of you

Lots and lots of cuddling. she doesn’t give two shits that she could get sick too. you’re cuddled up on the couch in a pile of blankets watching some cheesy movie on vhs or listening to your favorite album while she rambles about the week she’s got ahead of her.

She’ll run you a hot bath with all the stops. bath salts, apple cider vinegar, baking soda, the whole thing. she says it’s best to “sweat it out.” you’ve got to wonder where she gets this weird holistic knowledge from. huh.