#check trigger warnings

Today is our one-year anniversary. I have been planning this day for weeks. I wanted to be able to wake up next to you and shower you in kisses. I would have recreated our first date night meal, and we would have laughed at our dining room table. We would have fallen into bed together, and I would have shown you all of the ways that I adore you. I would have spent the night tracing the lines of your body that I have memorized as you slept, wrapped in my arms. It didn’t work out that way. Instead, I woke up before my alarm, to you still sleeping over the phone. My bed was cold, but waking up to you for the first time in days is the best one-year anniversary gift I could have asked with all things considered. When you woke up, there was an easy smile on your face when your eyes caught mine. It was like you forgot all about our arguments and what had been going on. It hurt when I saw the switch flip, and you told me you had to hang up to get ready for the day. I could tell that you wanted to say so many things, but instead, you just said that you would see me later. Fuck I miss you and the way you looked at me. Like I was the sun on your darkest days. I don’t know if we are ever going to get back to that point, but it is what I dream about every night. 

I am trying to be positive, and Ouida mentioned that we should work on our communication, so I wanted to tell you about how I felt during our first date. One year ago, I asked you to have dinner with me. It was the first thing in the morning, and you still had that grumpy crinkle in your brow like you always do when you aren’t fully awake. As if you are upset that you had to leave the dreamland behind. I was nervous as hell. Barbara had spent at least twenty minutes talking me through what I should say and how I should ask. I think she was sick of hearing me swoon over you like a love-sick child. I don’t think you could tell, though, because you smiled and nodded immediately. There was a little glimmer in your eye that I had already come to love. I wanted to kiss you right then, but I was trying to take it slow. Learn how to get through your walls without breaking them down like a bull in a china shop. 

When you said that you were free to come over to my house for dinner, I felt like I was walking on clouds. I had cornered Janine to tell me your favorite meal. I wanted this date to be perfect. The monsters in my head were calm for once, so caught up in all that I had to do. It was the first time that I hadn’t felt suffocated by them. Barbara stopped by the house to pick out an outfit for me. I told her it really didn’t matter, but it did. Of course it did. It was you. It was nothing fancy because it felt weird dressing to the nines in my own house. My signature leather pants, black tank top, and black sweatshirt. Simple yet brought out all my damn curves. Barbara said she wanted me to be comfy but sexy. I know it shocked me that she said that too. I kicked her out just in time because moments later, you pulled into the driveway. When I opened the door to you, I was immediately in awe. Oversized burgundy cardigan with loose mom jeans and a black t-shirt. Comfy and casual. It was perfect. 

Dinner was amazing, and our conversation never stopped. Everything always felt easy with you, and when we curled up on the couch to watch a movie, I couldn’t help but pull you next to me. Holding you felt like gluing pieces of me back together. It is the first time that I have felt whole in years. I knew then that I could never let you go. You turned to look at me to ask me what movie to watch next, and I kissed you. I couldn’t wait anymore. My heart was beating so loudly I swore you could hear it. My body was shaking, but then my lips pressed yours, and the world stilled. Absolute quiet. For a person who lives with a raging demon in the back of her head at all times, the silence was… comforting. Like finding a peace that I thought I lost forever. When I pulled back, I pressed my forehead to scared to look at you in case everything I felt was one-sided. 

Instead, you giggled, a short musical one, so then I had to look. You were grinning up at me, and then you pressed another kiss to my lips. Before you left for the night, I asked you to be mine. I didn’t want to wait for more dates to pass by because I knew then, sitting on that couch, I wanted to be with you. For as long as I could have you. This last year with you has been the best year of my life. I hope you know that…I should tell you that when I see you today. I promise you I will. I should have told you before, but I love you Y/N. I love you more than all the stars in the damn sky.

Melissa arrived at school later than usual, her journal entry swallowing a large part of her morning. She rushed to your classroom, where you were already writing on the board. You had that same burgundy cardigan on from your first date, and she wondered if it was intentional. With your back turned, Melissa studied you, trying to build up the courage for everything she had to say. As she glanced at your desk, she smiled when the pictures of her were now back amongst your knick-knacks. Pieces were slowly coming back together. There was hope pulling her further away from the demons in the back of her mind.  

“Your coffee is next to the dolphin,” You smiled, catching Melissa’s attention, “May be a little cold.”

“I am sorry I was a little late getting out of the house this morning. Was writing in my journal to you,” Melissa responded, grabbing for the coffee, “I will take cold coffee from you any day though.”

You laughed, moving to stand on the other side of the desk opposite the redhead, “Remember the cardigan?”

There was a silent plea in your face. You wanted her to remember but were terrified that she had forgotten. Melissa sat on the edge of the desk, pulling you in until you were slotted between her legs. She moved a strand of hair behind your ear, “Of course I remember. You wore it on our first date. One year ago today, when I asked you to go steady with me.”

A snort escaped you as you rolled your eyes, “I still can’t believe that is how you phrased it. So old-fashioned.”

Melissa grinned, “Happy anniversary, baby.” “Happy anniversary Angel,” You closed your eyes as if debating what to say next. 

Melissa was terrified of the worries that would come spilling out, so she cut you off, “I have your gift. I bought it a couple of weeks back, and I was wondering if maybe I could give it to you.”

“I have yours too,” You went to move back, but Melissa wrapped one arm around you and held you close to her, “You have to let me get it.”

Melissa relented, and you moved to your backpack, pulling out a small bag. She reached inside her own purse, a small black box clutched in her palm. You moved back, standing further away than Melissa would have liked, so she curled her fingers through your belt loop, pulling you back in front of her. Giving gifts always made you a little extra self-conscious, and you handed over the bag without looking up from the ground. Melissa pulled away the red tissue paper until a small box revealed itself sitting on top of two tickets. The older woman opened it to a small number-one silver charm. 

“For our one-year anniversary,” You mumbled, twirling your fingers, “I am sorry if it is lame…”

“No! This is amazing,” Melissa reassured you, a smile already on her face, “You have to put it on though. You know the rules. Only you can take off the necklace.”

You shook your head but smiled as you remembered the day you had given Melissa the necklace. You had sealed the lock with a kiss, and Melissa had said that now only you could take it away. She pulled up her hair, and you pulled the clasp to the front, gently pulling the lock. You slid the new charm on until it rested against her baseball bat. You placed the lock back, leaning down to kiss the metal gently. You positioned the necklace back to its original spot, and immediately Melissa fiddled with the charms.

“Just imagine how many are going to be on this one day.”

You nodded in agreement and pushed the bag back towards her, “You still have more.”

Digging inside the bag, Melissa pulled out two tickets to the Philadelphia Eagles v NYC Giants game. She let out a whoop of victory, scanning them over, “You didn’t! These seats are amazing. How did you pull this off?”

“A magician never reveals her secrets,” You grinned.

“You are coming with me, right? I have an old jersey you can wear, and I can tell you all about the game. We are going to have so much fun,” Melissa said excitedly, practically vibrating from joy.

A note of insecurity lipped through your voice, “If you want me to come. If not, you can take Barb or Ava.”

“I want you to come,” Melissa promised, but you could see the pain behind her eyes starting to grow again. The reminder that originally you would have said yes immediately, but a part of you still felt like you didn’t deserve to have access to that part of her world anymore. She pushed this from her mind, grabbing your hand, “There is no one else I would rather take with me, baby.”

“Then I will be there,” You said, attempting to break apart the tension.

“Open your gift now,” Melissa urged, putting the box back in your hands.

You pulled back the lid to a gold necklace. The word Always was written in handwriting that you had to come to know immediately. Melissa had a small blush across her cheeks as your fingers traced the lettering. You extended it out to her.

“You have to put it on. Those are the rules.”

You turned around and pulled up your hair up to expose your neck. Melissa looped the gold chain around you, and you involuntarily shivered. You could feel her hot breath as she leaned in to press a kiss to the lock. She lingered for a moment, kissing the top of your spine and each side of your neck before she pulled away. You were covered in goosebumps when you turned back to the redhead. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself as you caught that look in her eye. A twinkle was there with her pupils blown that any other day would have made you weak in the knees. Making sure the door was locked so that you could run your hand along her bare skin before school began. But this wasn’t any normal day. 

“Please don’t, Mel. Don’t say it. Not like this,” You begged, looking at the other woman backing away from her reach. Tears were filling your eyes, and your heart already ached. You could see the words on her lips, ready to be said. You were so desperate to hear them that you could have crumbled. But you didn't want to hear them like this. When there was still a gaping hole between you both. When you were still afraid that she was going to pick up and leave at any moment, leaving you in shreds.

Melissa just shook her head, “Somebody told me that I have to say what I feel, even when things are not perfect. I know we aren’t perfect right now, but I can’t go another day without saying this. This last year has been the best year of my life, and I love you. I should have told you a million different times. I have loved you for months, and I am still in love with you. I will continue to love you every single day of my life. You are my always. I will continue to work every day to rebuild what I have broken. I love you Y/N, and I am not leaving. Not today…not ever if you let me.”

The words were sweet to your ears, and they melted your heart. You could feel the corner of your mouth start to turn into a smile, but the weight of all of it came crashing down upon you. You were both two broken halves, and the thought of losing her to alcohol again by rushing this was all-consuming. Mostly, you were afraid of ruining it like you always had before. Tears were falling down your face as you went to turn the door handle to leave. 

“You told me you loved me first,” Melissa said, standing up and digging through her purse, “Six days ago on the phone, you told me that you loved me.” 

You stopped, and a watery smile crossed your face, “You remembered.”

Melissa pulled out a folded-up note and handed it to you. As you read the words, she repeated them out loud to you, “She told you that she loved you. She said that it hurt to love a person who was drowning themselves before her very eyes. It hurt to hear how much pain you caused, but she said she loved you. If you get a second chance you can’t fuck it up Melissa. You love that woman. You would marry that woman. Build a life with that woman. Get sober. Stay sober. Earn that love back.”

You handed the note back as the bell rang. Brushing your tears away, you leaned in to kiss the redhead gently on the cheek, “You never lost that love, Mel.”

You didn’t elaborate, just stepped out into the hall where kids were already running to their classrooms. You disappeared into the chaos, and Melissa was left standing, one hand wrapped around her charm necklace and the other one clutching her note. 

Dear Melissa,

It’s our one year anniversary today. It feels… hard to be separated from you. Especially today. I still remember that first date like it was yesterday. I had been so nervous. I hadn’t been on a date since Kylee. But you were so sweet and patient. It didn’t feel scary it felt like coming home. And waking up to you over the phone today broke my heart. I wanted you to hold me. To tell me everything was going to be okay. What have I done? Did I create a crack between us that never should have been? Are you ever going to forgive me for what I have done?  I am sorry Mel, I am trying not to be scared all the time, but I don’t know if I can do it. Please forgive me. I love you. 

-

Taglist

Steve Harrington hadn’t spoken in six months.

But it was okay, Robin always said she talked enough for the both of them.

He was like that— like her—before the end of the world. Couldn’t stop talking. There was always something that he had to say. Always a remark that needed to be made about something that was so inconsequential. Always a joke on his lips that was meant to elicit a laugh from one of his friends, or a smart comment that aimed to get Robin to roll her eyes at him, or a comforting word to ease the tension in Dustin’s shoulders.

He wasn’t always like that, but he had apparently grown into it. Maybe it was something he had picked up from Robin. Like some kind of chatter mouth disease. Whatever it was, now she was the only person who had heard his voice in the past year, even if it was just a few syllables here and there.

“You should really go see Nancy, y’know.” Robin said from the corner of his room, where she had kicked her feet up on his desk, probably messing up the stack of letters that littered the surface. She was wearing those stupid red converse, the ones she had let him draw a smiley face on the toe of to match the drawing she had made on his blue adidas. The ones she had worn when they first met, and when they were tortured by the Russians, and so many times after that that he was surprised the soles were still intact.

Steve didn’t say anything as he thumbed through the book in front of him without really reading it. It was some stupid thing that Dustin had left for him the last time he visited, something he had said Claudia had gotten for him. The boy had handed it over with a slight flush, as if embarrassed to be seen holding the thing. Steve didn’t know why he was embarrassed, though. Maybe it was because he knew that Steve wasn’t a reader.

“She misses you,” Robin continued, picking at her thumbnail absently, her caramel blonde waves falling in her face like a curtain, and Steve sighed. The book, whatever it was, wasn’t very good. The words just swam in front of his vision, blurry even though he knew he had 20/20 vision. He had since he was little. The pride of his father had swollen in his chest when the doctor told him that he had a real future in the major leagues if he decided to pursue baseball. Steve hated baseball, but he did it anyway just because of that comment. He was shit at it, so apparently it takes more than 20/20 vision to get into the major leagues. Steve closed the book and threw it on his bedside table.

Robin was an expert at leading the conversation, by now. Maybe she always was, even before he stopped talking. So, she whirled around to the next topic.

“Did you know Tommy H and Carol Perkins got married last week?” She asked, moving now to chew at her thumbnail instead of just picking at it. Steve looked up at the comment, and he saw as she grinned at having gained his full attention, though her face remained pointed away from his. The performance was on, then, as it always was with her. She got up and stretched, yawning and shaking out her hair, the frizzy strands glowing under the overhead light. Steve knew she was trying to get even just a single word out of him, trying to get him to egg her on, but his lips stayed shut even though all he wanted to do was get her to tell him the whole story. The story that he knew was tucked right in her jean pocket, hidden from him until he gave her what she wanted.

Robin sighed heavily as she placed her hands on her hips, walking with long strides towards the window in his room. He watched her out of the corner of his eye the whole way, gaze trained on the mess of envelopes on his desk, mouth twisting in displeasure when she poked a finger through the slats of his blinds and pulled them down, nonchalant like she had no clue he was waiting for her next words.

“There’s a goose in your yard, Stevie,” She said, voice even and almost bored, clearly believing she was moving seamlessly from one tactic to the next. It almost worked, like usual. He almost exclaimed “Bullshit!” at her. But instead his mouth never opened, even when he tried, and he just took a deep breath, a hearty chuckle rolling out of his tight chest, and dug his elbows into his plaid bedsheets, stumbling up so that he could move over to his desk and begin thumbing through the letters. None of them were open. Opening them just felt like too much, at that point. Too big of a task. He didn’t open them then either, a guilty demon in his chest shuddering at the idea of opening them after so long. He remained content to just flip through them, feeling the scratchy envelopes under his fingers, looking at the looping letters of each person’s distinctive handwriting.

Whenever the world had ended, he had actually opened the letters that his friends would slip underneath his door. He didn’t respond to them, of course. It was just as hard putting words on paper as it was to get them out of his mouth. But he had opened them, at least. Let them talk to him, even if he would never talk back.

The only one he wanted to talk to was Robin, anyway. Even though his mouth still froze up around the words. At least she was able to get him to laugh. At least she was able to thaw the ice around his tongue eventually.

He heard Robin settle beside him, leaning on the desk as he looked through the letters.

“A really big one, Steve, I swear it’s the size of a truck and it’s in your pool right now.” She said, her voice lilting with amusement, “Can you imagine the shit you’re gonna have to clean up? I mean, that thing’s massive.”

Steve smiled but kept going through the letters. Four from Dustin, five from Claudia, three from Jonathan, two from El, one from Nancy.

When he got to Nancy’s letter, his hands seemed to still, moving sluggishly and shaking as he traced his name in her swirling handwriting. Almost a year, and this was the first and only letter Nancy had ever sent him. Everyone else in the group had sent him a letter at least once. Had slid an envelope under the crack in his door or tucked it in a basket with a casserole that their mother made. But not Nancy.

Steve hadn’t heard Nancy’s voice in six months either, he remembered as he chewed on his cheek. Though, for different reasons.

She didn’t even try to come see him.

Why would she?

Ice struck his heart as his thoughts verged too close to the end of the world. The box that he kept it all in rattled, startling at the probe of thoughts that he had fought to keep back for an entire year. He gripped his desk so tightly he thought he might tear some of the paint off with his fingernails.

“T-Tommy P?” Steve asked instead, and he heard Robin laugh. The sound made him loosen his grip, and his breath spilled out of his lungs.

“They made a whole big deal out of it,” Robin laughed, “Invited practically the whole town. Tommy cheated on her not once, but twice at his bachelor party. Though, it’s fine, because Carol had a threesome and Tommy was decidedly not a part of it.”

There was nothing like Robin’s voice to smooth out Steve’s nerves. She looked so happy, now that she had gotten the first words of the day out of him. The first words were always the worst, the hardest to say. But once he started, he would slowly get on a roll, slowly begin talking more and more until they were sitting on his bed and laughing like old times.

There was a knock on the door downstairs. He hadn’t even heard a car pull up. His vision dipped as he whipped his head towards the noise, his bedroom door standing tall and unbreakable between him and the outside world. Whoever it was, they would realize soon that he wasn’t going to answer the door. He wouldn’t leave. Not while Robin was there.

“I give it… three months.” Robin said as she flopped over onto his bed, sprawled out and stretching like a cat in a sun spot. She looked so warm, laying there. She always looked warm. There was never any part of her that looked cold. She was sunshine personified, with her golden hair and bright eyes and sun-darkened freckles. There was nothing he wanted more than to crawl over onto the bed with her, lay his head on her shoulder and let her just hold him until he finally felt that warmth leaking through his skin again.

But he didn’t, even as he ached for it.

“Two…” Steve croaked, flinching as the knocking persisted, whoever was down there was banging even harder.

“Two?” Robin chewed the thought, pursing her lips, leaning her head back on her hands, “You’re right, goddammit. I give it one.” She decided.

Steve clutched the desk. That fire was starting in his joints. In his muscles. That twitch of tendon in his neck. The knocking was insistent, and whoever it was had started ringing the doorbell as well. Constant, drilling noise in the back of his head, echoing in the spots of his brain he had forced to shut off, that he had drowned. He was seconds from falling over the precipice of what he had spent the whole day avoiding. He was seconds from being back in Town Hall. The feeling of his nail bat heavy in his hands. The slamming of demogorgon claws against the hardwood. The screeching, screaming, heavy breath and slobber on his face as it held him against the wall. His stomach throbbed. Long healed wounds begging for attention. The way the demogorgon’s body had thunked, wet and heavy, against the hardwood floor. Robin’s voice.

I’ll stay with him. You go. He needs someone with him.

And the look on Nancy’s face as she stared at Robin. That terrified, stricken, angry face that told him she was anything but happy about the situation. The way she had grabbed Robin by the jacket, desperately, even as Robin held pressure on the deep wounds in his side. Leaning over him and kissing her right there. Right in front of her mother, and brother, and Jonathan, and—hell—Steve himself, right in front of the rest of their friends. Without a care in the world. It was almost sweet, if the world hadn’t been falling apart around him and his guts weren’t potentially falling out of a hole in his side. If his head wasn’t swimming with blood loss already.

Be safe. Please. Robin had begged. And Nancy nodded firmly. Pressed the cool metal of a rifle into Robin’s bloody hands.

Keep each other safe.

He had gotten blood all over Robin. He knew she hated the feeling. The tacky drying blood between her fingers. Soaking into her clothes. But she still pressed into him, leaning her forehead against his and begging him to stay. He could still see the tears glittering in her eyes, dripping down his cold cheek as the building around them shook and trembled.

Steve had tried so hard to stay awake. But a sense of peace had enveloped him, and he realized he couldn’t imagine a world where he didn’t die with Robin by his side.

The windows shook with each slam of fists against the door, and Steve could just barely hear the disconnected murmurs of Robin’s voice in his ear, drowned out by the whooshing behind his eyes and the vibration of his floor. His legs gave out underneath him, and he tumbled gracelessly to the carpet, wrapping his arms around his knees. The knocking stopped just as he fell, but the headache persisted. The box rattled and shook and trembled, straining to open.

He wouldn’t let it.

“Please… C’mere.” He croaked.

Robin settled beside him softly, and he wondered if she was deciding whether or not to touch him. It was all he wanted. To feel her warmth. To be wrapped up in her arms.

“You need to talk to Nancy,” Robin said softly, and his mind quieted just slightly the moment he could hear her clearly again, her voice just a soft hum behind his still whirring thoughts. The thought sent electricity through his spine, a gag building in his throat as his ribs broke and caved in, his sternum cracked, “She needs you. You need her too.”

“Don’t…” Steve whispered, and so Robin stopped.

It was silent for a long moment. And Steve was cold. His throat ached in time with his heart, his breaths halting in his mouth as he tried to keep the panic attack at bay.

The door opened, and Steve jolted away, knocking his desk chair over in his scramble to pick something up to defend himself with.

“It’s just me!” Nancy screeched, pressed back against the door as she stared at the trophy Steve had picked up as a weapon.

It took a moment, Steve gasping for air as Nancy stood there with her strong shoulders and wide eyes, but he was finally able to lower the trophy. Placing it back on top of his desk. All of his letters were there, in plain sight, and shame filled him as he saw Nancy’s gaze catch on her unopened one laying on top.

It was silent, for a minute, both of them just staring at each other like cornered animals. But Nancy had apparently remembered what she had come there for.

“I just…” Her voice broke, and she lifted her hands placatingly, “I needed to know that you’re okay. Jon said–”

Steve blinked. He had half a mind to pick up the trophy again. To shake it at her, screech like a banshee until she backpedaled out of his door and he could slam it in front of her. Lock it so she couldn’t get back in.

His front and back doors were locked, though. Robin made him double check. It hadn’t stopped Nancy. Not much could stop her, he thought.

“Talk to her, dingus.” He heard Robin whisper, but she wasn’t sitting on the floor by his desk anymore. She had probably moved behind him when Nancy barged in, he reasoned. Had probably gone for the gun that he used to keep in a lockbox on his closet floor before Jonathan took it from him. He didn’t think he had ever told her Jonathan took it. Didn’t want to explain why the boy had done it. He made sure he double checked that he locked his doors after that day.

Steve clenched his fists at his sides, breathing in through his nose and out his mouth like Joyce had told him to, her hands on his cheeks, Jonathan shaking too badly to be of any help.

He looked at Nancy. Really looked at her. She looked so much smaller than she ever had before. When she had marched away from him and Robin, on the day the world ended, she had squared her shoulders and she hadn’t given in to her temptation to look back. Strength spilled from her like a cape, infecting everyone around her as they followed the small girl to the final battle. Strong, capable, sturdy. That was Nancy Wheeler.

The girl that stood in front of him was anything but. She was skinnier, he noticed. Her cheeks were a little bit gaunt. The bones of her wrists poking painfully through her pale and almost translucent skin. Her shoulders caved in underneath the soft wool of a sweater he recognized from Robin’s closet. Her eyes had deep, purple circles underneath them. Steve remembered Dustin telling him about it. Nancy’s really… sick. She says she’s not but everyone knows she is.

He wondered if it was regret. For not looking back.

But now she was out of her house. She was walking around and running goddamned errands. Steve couldn’t remember the last time he had willingly left his room.

She was getting better in the end of the world. Slowly, sure, but eventually it would all be behind her. The thought brought acid to his tongue that would never spill out. The idea that anyone could leave that day behind them. He shut his eyes and reached out for Robin’s presence beside him. Let her proximity keep him on his feet. He could feel her hand slip into his, fingers lacing together softly like she was afraid he’d break.

He just wanted Nancy to leave. So that he could lay in the bed and listen to Robin’s soft voice until he fell into blissful sleep.

“Steve?” Nancy questioned, sinking in on herself. She seemed like she understood it was futile. The only thing he didn’t understand was why she wouldn’t just get the fuck out.

Steve breathed.

He walked over to his window, pulled down the blinds, and scanned his yard for the giant goose Robin had been talking about. Just in case she had been telling the truth, somehow.

“Steve, talk to me.” Nancy mumbled behind him, still leaning against his door.

It wasn’t even goose season, he shook his head. Robin could’ve at least chosen an animal that didn’t fly south for winter. The blinding white snow on his pool, on his porch, contradicted her fabrication before she had even finished speaking it. He closed his curtains.

“It’s… it’s not healthy.” Nancy stated, her voice growling and growing in strength, “The kids are so worried about you. Jonathan is terrified to leave you alone for too long after... that day. Dustin has nightmares about… About you… And… You have to…” She was taking a step towards him, he knew, even though he never turned away from his window. He watched the way bits of light filtered through the fabric, little pinprick stars shining through the deep navy blue.

She paused, and then said the words that jammed open the box he had worked so hard to keep closed.

“She’d want you to move on.”

One day, you’ll leave me behind, Stevie.

Robin’s voice whispered the night after he had woken up from surgery. She laid on his hospital bed, her blue eyes shining through the darkness. Soft flannel collar rumpled at her neck, and he had blinked away the dark blood dripping down her cheek. Blinked away the intrusive memory— no, thought, not memory. When he had opened his eyes again, he relaxed as he saw her again. No blood, her voice slightly muffled by the pillow, by Dustin’s soft snores in the chair beside him. Caramel blonde hair and freckles and soft, warm skin that had never been separated by claws and teeth.

I won’t, he whispered. I won’t let you go.

Shame had sparked through him when Dustin stirred on the chair beside him.

Did you say somethin’? The boy asked wearily. Steve kept his mouth shut. Pretended he hadn’t, not wanting to worry the boy that kept a constant vigil. Long after Dustin fell back asleep, Steve kept his eyes closed. If he kept them closed he couldn’t see the empty space on the bed next to him.

Nancy flinched when he turned to her. There must’ve been something in his eyes, because he could see her get frightened. The fire leaving her eyes. Steve thought if she folded in on herself any more, she’d cease to exist.

“I know…” Nancy cleared her throat, “Dustin said… Said you still…” She looked around the room. From one corner to the other, “When you think no one’s listening—“

Steve’s head throbbed as he startled back, squeezing his hands over his ears, his vision swinging wildly, but the images were already barraging his memory.

Blood on Robin’s hands. The screech of the demodogs. The way his vision dipped when he tried to get up, the blood loss making him drop back to his knees over and over again until he couldn’t even move his arms to push up. The smell of smoke filling the room, the roar of fire as it sprouted from a can of hairspray. The click of a rifle as it ran out of ammo. Robin’s labored breaths as she fought to keep him alive, the bandages around his waist already soaked through. As she cried and begged him to stay awake even as the dogs rushed down the corridor, slobbering at the smell of his blood, jaws clamping on his already partially numb leg and her screams as she used the butt of her rifle to beat them off of him.

“It’s not her fault. There weren’t supposed to be any more. We destroyed the nest.” Robin whispered in his ear, and he leaned into the sound, his fingers twitching to reach out for her but finding only air.

No. It’s not real.

It was just a bad dream.

Robin’s here.

I can see her.

He didn’t try to look. Didn’t try to find out.

“I’m not leaving until you talk to me.” Nancy said, her voice even but her breath coming quickly, hitching. And if he opened his eyes he knew he’d see her crying.

But she had nothing to cry about.

“Steve, please just listen to her.” He could almost smell the light and woodsy smell that always permeated Robin’s clothes. He wondered if the sweater on Nancy’s shoulders still held the memory of it. He wondered if she’d let him bury his face in it, just to check. Just to make sure he remembered what it was that she had smelled like.

He had smelled it that morning, though. He shook his head, hard. Nancy choked out another little sob. He had pressed his face into Robin’s sleep-warm embrace, and had felt the soft cotton of her tee shirt. He could feel it in his hands, even now.

He could almost feel her fingers on his face, her thumb brushing against the hair on his jaw. The image of her was blurry behind his eyelids. A girl with blonde hair and bright blue eyes and a smile that had gotten him through his darkest days. His soulmate. The person he was meant to have by his side until the end of his days. He couldn’t imagine living a life just to not have her there with him. He couldn’t imagine living without hearing her soft voice, her laugh, her jokes.

So he hadn’t.

“You don’t… You don’t talk anymore and… It’s worrying everyone… I just… I—“

“You need to let me go.” Robin whispered.

“Leave me alone!” Steve cried.

The contents of the box spilled out, and Steve shattered.

He felt her hug him. The soft wool of her sweater pressed against his forehead. And he imagined it was really Robin. Sitting there, holding him as the grief he had bottled up and ignored for months spilled out onto the floor. But it wasn’t Robin. Nancy’s shoulders were too bony, pressing between his eyebrows. Her hair smelled like floral shampoo instead of the Old Spice that Robin would steal from his shower. Her sweater was worn thin, and smelled like clean laundry. Not even a hint of Robin could be found.

“I’m sorry,” Nancy whispered in his ear, and her voice wasn’t Robin’s, and he felt as her tears dripped onto his neck, down to his collarbone. They had made their way to the floor, clutching each other tight enough that they could kid themselves that the difficulty they had with breathing was because of the other’s tight hold. He didn’t want to open his eyes. He didn’t want to look around his room and see it empty. Didn’t want to admit that Robin hadn’t been in this room in half a year. Didn’t want to see it with a clear mind.

If Nancy would just let go, he could go downstairs. Grab his father’s fancy bourbon, that he had kept in the back of the drained liquor cabinet since his son was small, the bottle Steve had half gulped down like orange juice just that morning.

After a bottle, Robin always came back.

His hands shook with the desire to see her one more time.

To not have that be his last image of her. The last time he saw her face, as he slowly blacked out from blood loss. Her eyes open and staring at him, eyelids drooping like she was on the brink of a deep sleep, red staining her pale neck and dead demodogs littering the floor. Blood pouring from her chest, dripping down her cheek like tears. The smell of fire as the hallway lit up around them.

He didn’t even get to go to her funeral. He was in the ICU the whole time, knocked out. Useless.

She had saved his life.

He didn’t even get to say goodbye.

He buried his face into Nancy’s shoulder and she wasn’t Robin, but she was close enough. Something solid to hold between his hands.

A fool clinging to smoke.

Steve didn’t say anything as Nancy held him. His ribs ached against the hollow place in his chest that used to house his heart, before he had laid the useless thing to rest in the wooden coffin beside the girl who had taught him everything he knew about love and eternal devotion and grief.

If he stayed still, blocked out the sound of Nancy’s sobs, he thought maybe he could feel her. Lying still in the dark beside him, her cold hand wrapped around his, her hair tickling his nose as he buried his face in her shoulder, his limbs sprawled across her unmoving form as he curled to fit beside her.

Steve throat ached, a trapped scream tearing at his lungs as he sagged into Nancy’s grasp, his body giving out on him. He strained his ears, searching for a voice that wasn’t there.

“Steve?” Nancy asked, again. Her voice was wet with tears, soft as she waited for an answer she wouldn’t receive.

Because his room was cold, and the curtains were drawn. The only place he wanted to be was a quiet coffin that wasn’t made for two, and he had been too scared at the taste of steel to pull the trigger, and the only words on the tip of his tongue were for someone who wasn’t around to hear them

Nancy didn’t get a response, and she never would.

Robin would never speak again.

And neither would Steve.

(TW. Child Abuse, Kidnapping, Pirates, murder, blood, violence, war, guns)

001. Born in a small fishing village on the east coast of Korea during the Joseon dynasty. Growing up the sea was a close companion and salt water practically ran through her veins. She adored her parents and her sister and became known throughout the village for being quick to action.

002. She was still quite young when the raiders attacked, Wokou. She wasn’t quite fast enough then. She remembered taking the ear of the man who grabbed her between her teeth, the first drop in a long life of tasting blood.

003. By the time The Tortoise found her when she was older, she had been sold to a street fighting gang where her nightly but the man with eyes older than his neck knew what she did not. That the age of the Wokou was coming to an end. As the howls of dying men and the burning of a building scarred with the blood of her compatriots fell around her, the man watched as Ha-Jeong clawed her way back into the pit, taking one last victim. The head of the league, the one who she had imagined reaping every fight he had put her through. The Tortoise offered a hand to her in the aftermath, an offer, and he hand bruised and scarred with violence reached for it.

004. He took her under his wing, trained her in more practical ways of fighting. She adored life on the boat, fit in with his crew of misfits who had all clung to life and had decided to help the ancient entity who had taken them under his shell. The Tortoise also taught her to read. Knowledge laid bare before her. She found in her adventures that books and knives were her preferred form of payment, knowledge and defense. The balance suited her. Salt and blood and paper would be what she would build her life on.

005. She knew there had been risks when it came to this excursion. But she was bleeding out. This was the end. Until it wasn’t. “Do you want to live little crane?” She heard him whisper. And as the thrum of life in her ears slowed she found herself biting back, yes.

006. Death suited Ha-Jeong more than life ever had. The Tortoise instilled reverence and indulged her in her desire for knowledge. She wasn’t human, not anymore, but she found taking a step back from life had made the venture all the more fascinating. He left her with teachers and instructors throughout their journies and she attempted to absorb it all.

007. These weren’t the hunters she had seen in her travels. That she had both run from and trained with. These were other night walkers, other undead. The stake bit through the heart of the Tortoise. She knew he was gone before he hit the ground. She was over two centuries old, and death was an old friend in their line of work. They got away.

008. But Death followed, slowly and meticulously. “Only the weak bark,” he had told her. She didn’t bark, she barely breathed. And it was in between breathes she took her revenge. Earned her name.

009. Pirating from afar would not be her style. She would always return to the Sea but she was not a tortoise. She left the boat in the care of a girl that had come to them over the years. The faces changed but the intention was always the same, life had value. Ha-Jeong took off on her own. Revenge satisfied she intended to learn more of the changing world, observe humanity, aid it where she could, but she wasn’t not of it. She had lost that long ago.

010. She had held a gun before but none like the beauties they started making as the century, yet again turned. A far shot, the accuracy only to be improved. Just as deadly from above as she was below. Ha-Jeong thought being ‘sharp shooting’ was a fine art.

011. The world was opening, globalizing, for better or worse. She met another skilled fighter. Indulged her interest, learned his craft. He was a human that outaged herself, a rare thing. In this way he was more a part and seperate from the world than she was. An equal.

012. Decades passed and he started listening to whispers she knew better than to heed. ‘We are not like them, but that does not make us gods.” The Tortoise had said. She was confident she could outmaneuver almost anyone but the whispers of power that came from the legion that did not speak were nothing but trouble.

013. He stopped showing up one day, she didn’t know what had happened. Could only hope he had t fallen into the trap of power that had been laid but she had her own problems at hand. Her home country called to her.

014. The Japanese invasion sparked resistance. She joined the side of the Korean people. The horrors of the early 20th century were unparalleled. Still she always managed to evade capture. Always a breath away from death.

015. The Secound World War ended and she was tainted with the blood of good people, fellows who had deserved better. And yet it never got better. The Japanese had gone but unrest remained.

016. She watched tension and outside forces cannibalize her nation. Saw the worst of humanity. Saw human spirits breaking. She met another friend. Someone who had lungs like hers. They spoke of a clan, a place to belong. A place where causes and human spirits were foreign. It was almost piratry. She had known it once and after decades of trying to fight for a cause and loosing. Her conscious needed a break.

017. She was a form gun for higher. Hiding behind her crosshair. Humans and supernaturals mattered less through a crosshair. She still trained, kept her body agile, was ready for any sort of fight. But she preferred the impersonal.

018. Not them. She couldn’t do it. Wouldn’t do it. Some small nostalgic part of her. This person did not deserve to die. A Shot not Taken.

019. Reardon sent her to Port Leiry. A semi-retirement. She had handed the man at the dock a wad of cash and the sea was hers. She would take her shots for Reardon and return to the docks when she was done. Little did she know, Port Leiry was not the quiet town it had been made out to be.

Wanted Connections

A Pupil- a hunter Ha-Jeong trained, maybe they knew what she was, maybe they only found out later. Either way she was sought out to train this person in the way of killing and killing well. (0/1)

The Shot Not Taken- Recently in her career, for whatever reason, Jeong refused to take out a target and that is why she is now being sent to Port Leiry. (1/1) @killvrinstinct

The one who knew she was of the Sea: Someone from early in Ha-Jeong's immortal life. A human or a witch lover that made her feel more of the ocean than an immortal being. She thinks they died, and was the last mortal lover she seriously took, but maybe something happened. Maybe they still walk among us. (0/1)

Whispers of Reardon: The friend who told her in the aftermath of war to join a clan. Reardon, a clan of crime and purpose. Really open to explore whatever type of relationship that would’ve been to have Ha-Jeong commit to a cause. (0/1)

The Contracted- People she has worked with throughout her line of work. She’s been around since the 50s, you could have run into her anywhere. Even if she was just a breath in the shadow.

The Hunted- Has she taken a shot at you in the past, someone you liked. She’s impersonal but who knows who hired her.

They Who Hire- Need her to do a job. Do away with someone. She operates in coin and for the rare few will be tempted by the human cause.

Humanity Roots- There have been people who have come in and out of Jeong’s life over the years. Lovers, acquaintances, distractions. Some ways to indulge her deep seated humanity.

Sea wanderers- Boat Rental customers and Regulars.

Things have been going so well with Melissa that you stop waiting for the other boot to drop. There is always a little voice in the back of your head that tells you something will happen, but you push it down. You choose to live in the moment and trust that Melissa will catch you if you fall. The only person that you have ever trusted in this manner is Bridget and you know that it will be a rocky journey, but you are willing to do it for her. Trusting Melissa should be scary, but it feels easy, like it was the simplest decision in the world. Which should have been the first sign that things were only going to take a turn for the worst. 

You are thinking over this as you lean against your classroom door, watching your students file out of the school. You feel the anxiety rising again but shove it back down as you look at your girlfriend. In her usual blazer and slacks she looks gorgeous, and your thoughts circle back to the previous night. How her red curls looked between your thighs, the way your limbs tangled with hers, and it felt like you found home not in a place but inside of someone’s heart. 

 Melissa smiles from across the hall, beckoning you towards her. Once you are close enough, she reaches for you, draping her hands around your hips. 

“Mel, kids are still here,” you whisper as she lays her head on your shoulder

“And I need a hug,” the redhead sighs as she squeezes you closer. 

You brush your fingers through her hair gently, “Rough day?”

“One of the worst.”

You go to ask more questions when you hear her voice, the voice that is permanently burned into your brain. The one that haunts your dreams and the deepest, darkest parts of you. Your body goes cold as you turn towards the sound. 

When your eyes lock with her you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood. She can't be here. Abbott was supposed to be safe…you were supposed to be safe.

Melissa notices the shift in you immediately and wraps an arm around your waist, “Mi amore what is it?”

Janine is the one who answers as she rushes into the hall. She stands in front of you trying to shield you with her small body. “Kylee what are you doing here?”

Melissa immediately shoves you behind her standing next to Janine but the damage is already done. You feel yourself slipping, the darkness settling in, as you struggle to find any place safe. Barbara pulls you from it for a moment when she pulls you against her side. Her touch is reassuring, but you know none of it matters. Kylee is giving you that look,the one that lets you know you have lost, she caught her prey and won't stop till she tears you piece by piece. You instinctively flinch which only makes her eyes sparkle. She knows that she still haunts you and for her that is like winning the lottery. 

She gives you a cruel smile, “I'm here to pick up my nephew. Figured I would stop to say hi to a familiar face.”

“You aren’t fucking wanted,” Melissa says through gritted teeth.

“Oh Melissa…so happy to see you again,” Kylee says, turning to the redhead.

“We haven't met. I would remember a low life like you,” your girlfriend responds, giving Kylee an icy glare.

Kylee only laughs at this reaching for her phone, “Then let me jog your memory, sweetheart.”

It only takes a second before she flips the phone for everyone to see. Melissa is sitting at the bar with Kylee’s hand gripping her thigh. Kylee has her other hand laced through crimson red hair as she kisses Melissa. One moment frozen in time to ruin the life that you have built brick by brick.

“Oh sweet baby Jesus and the grown one too,” Barbara whispers her hand tightening on your hip but you barely feel it. In front of Kylee you feel nothing, see nothing, because you are nothing.

Melissa’s heart drops to her stomach as she remembers this night. It had been the night Barbara had pulled her from the bar. Kylee was the raven haired woman at the bar who had made a pass at her. Kylee words swirl in her head- Every choice I have made has been deliberate and I don’t think I regret a single one of them.

She was talking about you. She knew who Melissa was, who she was to you, and she had pursued her to intentionally harm you. Melissa looks back to try and explain but you are gone. All she sees is your retreating form as Barbara pulls you away. 

A new fire burns deep in the older woman as she turns back toward Kylee, “What the fuck have you done?”

“What I should have done a long time ago,” Kylee smirks and takes another step towards the redhead.

Anyone else would have cowered from Melissa. Not Kylee, she inches forward to poke the bear. Kylee presses a hand towards Melissa and shoves. Not hard but enough to make her move but so hard that the redhead can feel her fight response click back in. Her inhibitions are long gone, eyes dark with a monster she has let take control, she is close to snapping when Kylee speaks again.

“It’s only fair to try a taste…you are sleeping with my wife after all.”

Melissa blinks rapidly, “Your what?”

That is when the redhead realizes that a paper was pushed against her chest. She scans it, losing her breath as the words hit her. Certificate of Marriage. 

“It’s our three year wedding anniversary today,” your wife laughs and the color drains from Melissa’s face. “Didn't tell you, did she? That bitch never could tell the truth.”

Melissa knows she shouldn't believe her, not when she has heard so much about how Kylee treated you, but the proof in her hands makes her second guess herself. Then the more she thinks about it, she realizes she doesn’t know anything, not really. You have kept the truth about Kylee so buried that Melissa wonders if it could be true. 

“I…I…” she stammers.

“Should stop fucking my wife,” Kylee interjects.

“And you should get the hell off my property. There is an active restraining order in place requiring you to stay over 500 feet away from Abbott Elementary at all time,” Ava snaps, pulling Melissa from her daze. “I already called the cops.”

Kylee only shrugs, turning to leave. Before she reaches the door she turns around one final time. “She isn't yours Melissa. Never was and never will be. I own her. Her body. Her mind. Her soul. Always.”

The door slams behind her and Melissa is shaking. Ava goes to place a hand on her shoulder but the redhead slaps it away.

“Don't fuckin touch me.”

“Mel, don't be stupid,” Ava argues as the older woman turns on her heels. “You aren't thinking straight.”

“Leave. Me. Alone.” Melissa yells storming down the hall.

She finds her way to the one place she knows Barbara would have hidden you- the library. She pushes open the door not caring that it bounces off the wall by the force of her shove. Barbara is sitting at the table watching over you. She swivels toward her best friend's fear in her eyes.

“Melissa what are you doing?”

“Get. The. Fuck. Out.” Melissa spats.

Barbara glares at her best friend crossing her arms. If there is one person to stand up against the monsters that ravage the redhead it is her work wife. “Absolutely not.”

“Get. Out.”

“Whatever you have to say to her you say with me here. I'm not letting you near her when you are like this,” Barbara retorts sitting next to you.

They glare at each other with icy stares. It is a battle of wills but Melissa eventually caves turning towards you. 

“You lied to me,” Melissa snaps.

You break out of your trance, the world zooming back into focus. Everything is a blur with a surrounding darkness that you can't shake.Your skin is ice cold and you feel a fluttering that starts in your heart and seems to consume you. The other boot is dropping and you are sure it is going to shatter everything around you.

“You… you…how could you?” She barks out.

Your heart clenches at the words and the anger spreading across your girlfriend’s beautiful face. “What are you talking about?”

Melissa throws the marriage certificate on the table towards you, watching for your reaction. She is sure that she has caught you in a trap, but instead, you look utterly confused. Your eyes take in the names, your signature at the bottom, and the date along the top. You dig through your memories frantically searching for anything, but it comes up blank.

“You’re fuckin married,” Melissa grits out finally.

“No…it can't be,” you say through a choked sob.

“You always talked about how you didn't know if marriage was worth it, how it was more complicated than it needed to be. You made it seem like it would take a fuckin miracle to get married…yet you married that bitch.”

Melissa’s rage fills the room. You want to cower, want to curl back into yourself, and let the monster inside take control. However you are so tired of letting the monster win, of letting it control you, you are tired of people always wanting to control you. You fight to stay present as you finally meet her green eyes.

“I didn't know Mel, I didn't know.”

Melissa scoffs, rolling her eyes, "Convenient that when things get hard and you are confronted with the truth, you suddenly don't remember.”

Her comment stings, not because she is wrong, but because it’s true. Your coping method has made your life a puzzle that you are constantly missing pieces of. No matter how hard you look, you know that some of these pieces will never return. 

“You are married…” Melissa repeats bitterly.

“Mel, please…I didn't do this. I didn't consent to this. This isn't right. You have to believe me,” you plead.

“I don't make it a habit of listening to liars,” she retorts.

“How can you be so cruel when there are pictures of you kissing her?” You ask bitterly.

“I was drunk,” Melissa responds with a small waver of guilt. “I pushed her away when I realized.”

You throw your hands up, “You were drunk. I was disassociated. It’s the same thing.”

Melissa scoffs and you curl your hands into a fist. “I forgive you…have forgiven you for so much. You can't listen to me for this one thing?”

“Listen for what Y/N? More lies?” Melissa growls and watches as you bite back your comeback. The act of restraint makes her blood boil. She wants to fight, to scream, anything to get out all these feelings threatening to explode out of her. She wants you to lose control in the same way hers is slipping.

 Instead, you take a deep breath before speaking. “I have never lied to you or given you a reason to believe that I wouldn't tell you anything if you asked. When are you going to stop treating me like I'm going to break your heart and instead realize I'm the woman you love who wants to spend the rest of her life with you?”

“I don't think that woman ever existed,” Melissa whispers, and you are sure she can hear as your heart finally shatters.

“I love you, Y/N, and I am not leaving. Not today…not ever if you let me,” you repeat, stopping Melissa as she goes to the open door. “That is what you told me…when I was standing right there. That you wouldn't leave, that you loved me, for as long as we could have each other.”

The memories of the first time Melissa said she loved you rush back to her in a wave. She falters for a moment before she hardens her resolve. “Well then, I guess we are both liars.”

She exits, slamming the door behind her, and you are sure your whole world cracks with it. Tears rush down your face as you look down at the piece of paper that has acted as a bomb. You want to rip it to shreds or watch it burn to ash, but it will do no good. Kylee will always find a way to win, find a way to make sure you remember that you are hers. So instead, you sit and stare at it until Barbara finally calls out to you.

“Y/N…are you okay?” She asks timidly.

“Kylee always told me that no matter how far I ran, how much I tried to change, that she would find me. The moment I found real happiness, she would come and destroy it…just to prove that she had complete control over me. I still hear her voice when the police took her away…You’ll always be mine Y/N, only mine,” you say through a rush of tears, slamming your hand against the paper. “She fucking owns me, and I don't remember a damn thing.”

-~-

After Melissa storms out of Abbott, she drives until her vision isn't red. She doesn’t know how long she drives, only that when she finally stops, it is outside a bar…a familiar bar. Her hands clutch the steering wheel as she looks at the bright neon lights of the shitty gentleman’s club she used to go to when Joe was cheating on her. The place she used to escape to when she needed to remember that she was hot, sexy, and valued by both men and women. A place she could go in and forget who she was entirely. 

She leaves her phone in the car, only grabbing her wallet before she exits the car. The familiar smell of cigarettes, liquor, and sex meets her when the door opens. She closes her eyes as she shoves down the tears threatening to make another appearance and walks over to the bar. The chair sticks to her pants as she climbs on it, but at this point, she is past caring. Grabbing a random cigarette from a jar in the middle, she strikes a match and lights it. The first drag releases the tension in her shoulders. The second one lets her vision clear. The third makes her realize that maybe this is a mistake. She almost stands to leave when a drink is placed in front of her. 

“I didn't order anything,” Melissa says, glancing at the bartender.

It’s a younger woman dressed in next to nothing. She leans over the counter, a smile playing on her lips. “It’s on the house, suga can't let a pretty lady like you be without a drink.”

“You are just saying that to get a tip,” Melissa retorts.

“No, I let guys stare at my tits for a tip. The drink is cause I can tell you are havin a rough go, and maybe you need a friend,” the bartender admits.

“I don't know what I need right now,” the redhead admits.

The bartender shrugs, “well if you figure it out my name is Precious. I'll be here all night.”

She walks away but turns with a wink, “and my tits will be too. I'll let you have a look for free suga.”

Melissa rolls her eyes she turns back to the glass in front of her. Images of you swirl around in her head. You were so confused when you looked at the paper…then you were filled with fear. It was almost as if the paper confirmed something you knew all along. To the redhead, it confirmed one thing- she was tired of letting her heart get shattered.

Melissa holds the glass up, smelling the liquor it contains. It burns her nose, and a part of her aches to drink it. She twirls her AA chip in her hand as if to ground her. Two more days and she would be thirty days sober. It’s so close yet feels like a lifetime away, and right now she can't find a reason to keep going. Why get sober when nothing waits for her besides a cold and empty house? She debates what to do for a moment before finally putting the AA chip down against the bartop. 

-

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