Chapter Text
The air in the living room was thick with the scent of cheap punch and the muffled bass of a song Nancy couldn't name.
She was standing in a corner with Jonathan, a space that felt increasingly like a cage. Jonathan was talking, his voice was steady, kind, and familiar, but to Nancy, it sounded like he was speaking from underwater.
He was describing a new lens he wanted to buy, his hands gesturing vaguely, but Nancy found herself staring at the way his flannel shirt was slightly bunched at the shoulder. A year ago, she would have reached out to fix it. Now, the idea of touching him felt like an exhausting chore.
Every response she gave was a calculated effort. "That sounds great, Jonathan," she murmured, her voice sounding hollow even to her own ears. Everything felt heavy: Her limbs, her heart, the very atmosphere between them. It wasn't that she hated him; it was the suffocating guilt of not feeling what she was supposed to feel.
She was playing the role of the loyal girlfriend, but the script had become a burden she was no longer sure she could carry.
Her eyes were the only part of her that felt alive, and they were constantly betrayed by her own longing. Every time the heavy front door creaked open, her head turned instinctively. She tried to rationalize it to herself with practiced, journalistic logic.
I’m just observing the room, she thought. I’m looking for a lead, checking who’s talking to whom. She told herself she was just looking for a way to escape the stifling conversation, any distraction at all. But deep down, in the place she refused to acknowledge, she was looking for a specific crown of chestnut hair and a smile that made the world feel safe.
Jonathan stopped talking mid-sentence. He tilted his head slightly, his dark, observant eyes flickering from her face to the door and back again. "You’ve looked at that door twelve times in the last five minutes, Nance," he said, his voice tinged with a quiet, unsettling curiosity. "Are you expecting someone? Is something wrong?"
Nancy felt a flush of heat creep up her neck. "No," she snapped, perhaps a bit too quickly. "I told you, I’m just... it’s cramped in here. I’m looking for some air, or maybe just someone I can actually get a decent quote from for the paper."
Jonathan’s gaze narrowed. He knew her too well, yet he didn't know her at all anymore. The silence that followed was deafening, a jagged edge between them that neither dared to touch.
Then, the door swung open with a bang.
Robin Buckley practically tumbled inside, her laughter ringing out above the music as she tripped over the threshold.
Nancy’s entire demeanor shifted instantly. Her posture straightened, and for the first time that night, her eyes truly lit up, a genuine spark of electricity radiating through her. She knew the pattern. She knew the gravity of their group. If Robin was here, the center of Nancy’s universe wouldn't be far behind.
She held her breath, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird, waiting for the one face that could finally make the room stop spinning.
The moment Steve Harrington crossed the threshold, the oxygen seemed to vanish from the room, leaving Nancy Wheeler to breathe in nothing but the ghost of a feeling she had spent months trying to bury.
For a fleeting and reckless second, everything in her illuminated. The drab walls of the house party, the drone of the music, and the hollow weight of Jonathan’s presence beside her all dissolved into the background.
There he was. His hair was a bit longer, his posture a bit more relaxed, and he carried that familiar and effortless gravity that always seemed to pull her toward him like a tide. Her heart didn't just beat; it thrashed against her ribs. It was a violent reminder that no matter how many rationalizations she built, her body still recognized him as its true north.
But the light in her eyes didn't just dim. It was violently snuffed out as a girl followed him in.
Nancy’s internal monologue, usually so sharp and investigative, became a chaotic storm of fragmented thoughts. Her mind raced with questions she didn't want to answer. She wondered who this girl was and why she was standing so close to him. She watched them with the predatory focus of a journalist, but the lens was cracked and blurry.
Steve wasn't holding the girl's hand. They weren't clinging to each other or acting like a desperate couple. In fact, to anyone else in the room or even to Jonathan, they might have just looked like two friends arriving with Robin.
But Nancy saw the truth in the spaces between them.
She saw the way Steve paused at the door and how his body instinctively tilted just an inch toward the girl to make sure she cleared the crowded entryway.
She saw the way the girl’s shoulder brushed against the sleeve of Steve’s jacket. It was a touch so light it was almost accidental, yet they didn't pull away. Nancy felt a sickening lurch in her stomach because she remembered that exact proximity.
She remembered how Steve’s skin felt like a magnetic field and how you didn't even need to be touching him to feel the heat radiating from him.
The girl was beautiful in a way that felt effortless. Her dark hair fell in soft waves that caught the dim light of the hallway. Nancy’s mind began to spiral into a frantic and losing battle. She told herself that the girl looked happy and unburdened.
She looked like someone who didn't carry the weight of a hundred secrets or the scars of the Upside Down.
She looked like someone who could give Steve the normal life he always wanted, and that thought felt like a physical weight pressing down on Nancy’s chest.
Jonathan moved beside her. His presence suddenly felt like a heavy wool blanket in the middle of a humid July night. He hadn't connected the dots yet. To him, it was just Steve and Robin arriving with another guest. He raised his hand and shouted over the music to get their attention.
Nancy felt like she was watching a car crash in slow motion. As the group approached, she felt her journalistic armor clattering into place, though it felt thinner and more brittle than ever before.
She told herself she was fine. She told herself she was with Jonathan and that this was what she chose. She repeated the lie that she wanted Steve to be happy and that this was what moving on looked like. She said the words over and over in her head like a desperate prayer to a god she no longer believed in.
Steve led the way and his eyes caught Nancy’s. For a heartbeat, the mask slipped. She saw something in his gaze that looked like the old Steve. It was the version of him who looked at her like she was the only fixed point in a spinning world. But then he blinked and the look was gone. It was replaced by a polite and friendly warmth that felt like a direct insult to everything they had been through.
Steve reached out to shake Jonathan’s hand and they exchanged the usual awkward pleasantries. Nancy’s focus was entirely on the girl standing just a few inches to Steve’s left. She noticed the way the girl stood perfectly comfortable in Steve’s shadow as if she belonged there.
"This is Samantha," Steve finally said. He gestured to her with a small and proud smile that felt like a knife between Nancy’s ribs. "Sam, this is Nancy and Jonathan. Two of the best."
The name was soft and melodic and Nancy hated it instantly. She felt the bile rise in her throat as she realized Steve had a nickname for her already. Samantha was Sam.
Nancy felt the world tilting and a wave of dizziness threatened to pull her under, but she forced her feet to stay anchored to the floor. She summoned every ounce of her willpower and forced her face into a pleasant social mask. She smiled a rigid and artificial smile that didn't reach her eyes. Her eyes stayed wide and glassy, fixed on a point just past Steve’s shoulder.
"It’s so nice to meet you, Samantha," Nancy said. Her voice sounded high and tinny in her own ears. She hoped the darkness of the room hid the way her hands were trembling against her sides. She reached out and gave a quick and stiff wave. She refused to let her gaze linger on Steve for even a second.
She turned to Jonathan and her smile became even more frantic. She asked him if the party finally felt like it had started now that the whole group was here.
Her voice was bordering on manic. She was performing for the room and for Steve, but mostly she was performing for herself. She had to believe the lie. If she admitted that seeing Samantha’s hand hover near Steve’s arm made her want to scream, the whole fragile structure of her life would come crashing down. Everything was perfect and the lie tasted like ash in her mouth.
The air in the room felt thick and stagnant yet Nancy remained laser focused. Every fiber of her being was vibrating with a desperate need for information. She watched Steve and Samantha with the clinical precision of a detective though her heart was screaming a much more primal set of questions.
She needed to know the origin of this girl and she needed to know the depth of their connection. She told herself it was just her journalistic instinct. It was a professional curiosity about a new variable in their social circle. She clung to that lie because the alternative was too dangerous to voice even in the silence of her own mind.
Steve excused himself to get drinks for the three of them. Nancy watched as he navigated the crowd toward the kitchen. She noticed that he didn't stop to ask Robin what she wanted. That made sense because Robin and Steve were practically joined at the hip. They were a pair of inseparable thieves who shared every secret and every thought. They were a closed loop.
But then Nancy saw that he didn't ask Samantha for her order either. He just gave her a knowing look and a small nod and she smiled back with a terrifying level of understanding.
How could he possibly know her drink preference already? How many nights had they spent together for him to memorize a detail like that?
Beside her Jonathan was watching the scene with a completely different internal narrative. He felt a wave of relief so profound it was almost dizzying. Ever since he had returned from California his relationship with Nancy had felt like a car idling in neutral. They were stuck. The intimacy that once defined them had evaporated and the silence in their shared moments had become a permanent resident.
They rarely touched anymore. Their sex life was a memory and their physical connection had been reduced to fleeting dutiful kisses upon arrival and departure.
Jonathan had spent months viewing Steve Harrington as a looming shadow over his life. He had spent every day wondering what had truly happened between Nancy and Steve while he was away. He had felt Nancy slipping through his fingers and drifting toward the gravitational pull of the man she had once left behind.
But seeing Steve here with Samantha was like taking a sedative. It calmed the frantic beating of his heart. He looked at Nancy and saw her smiling at Samantha acting friendly and open. He took it as a sign that she was okay and that she was over whatever lingering connection he had feared. He had no idea that the smile on her face was a masterpiece of deception or that her internal world was currently a landscape of fire and ash.
Nancy saw her opening as soon as Steve was out of earshot. She turned toward Samantha and adjusted her posture to appear nonchalant and casual. She wanted to use these few minutes of Steve’s absence to dismantle the mystery.
"So Samantha," Nancy said and her voice was smooth and carefully modulated. "How did you and Steve meet? It feels like it must have been quite a while ago if you're already part of the inner circle."
Samantha laughed and it was a bright and genuine sound that made Nancy want to grit her teeth.
"Actually it has only been about two weeks," Samantha replied. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and looked toward the kitchen where Steve was still visible. "My car broke down on the edge of town right near the old quarry. I was standing there feeling completely helpless when Steve pulled up. He was like a knight in a denim jacket. He stayed with me and fixed the belt and made sure I made it home. I felt like I owed him at least a coffee for saving my night."
Two weeks. The words hit Nancy like a physical blow to the stomach. Only two weeks. Nancy’s mind began to spin in a frantic circle of realization. For the last fourteen days Steve had been seeing this girl and Nancy hadn't suspected a thing.
She felt a surge of nausea as she realized why she hadn't noticed. It was because Steve hadn't changed his behavior toward her. He was still the same attentive and reliable man he had always been. He hadn't missed a single group hang. He was always there when she needed someone to talk to and always ready to help with no questions asked and no strings attached.
He had been her constant and her North Star and she had grown so accustomed to his light that she had stopped questioning where else it might be shining. She had taken his presence for granted and assumed he would always be waiting in the wings of her life while she tried to make things work with Jonathan.
Now the realization that he was building a life that didn't revolve around her made her world feel unstable and dangerous.
She forced herself to keep smiling even as the muscles in her face began to ache from the effort.
Jonathan saw her expression and felt a sense of peace. He couldn't read her face anymore because he hadn't been able to for a long time but the fact that she was being so welcoming to Steve’s date was enough to convince him that the threat was gone.
Before Nancy could formulate a follow-up question to dig deeper into their coffee dates Steve was back. He was carrying three cups and moving through the crowd with a playful grace. Robin said something snarky to him as he arrived and he shot back a witty retort without missing a beat. They had that effortless and teasing chemistry that always made Nancy feel like an outsider to their private language.
Steve handed a drink to Robin and then turned to Samantha. He handed her a cup with a soft look of expectation. Samantha took the drink and her large hazel eyes fixed on his with a look of deep gratitude.
As she took the cup she reached out and let her fingers linger on Steve’s forearm for just a second. It was a brief and subtle touch but to Nancy it felt like an explosion. She saw the way Steve’s skin reacted to the contact and the way he didn't pull away.
Nancy stood there like a polite stranger in her own life.
She was hyper-aware of every inch of space between Steve and this new girl. She refused to acknowledge the hollow ache in her chest as jealousy. Instead she told herself she was just bothered by the change in the group dynamic and the sudden lack of transparency in Steve's life.
Beside her Jonathan finally felt like he could breathe again while Nancy felt herself suffocating in the grip of a reality she was not prepared to face.
The conversation around her continued in a blur of voices and laughter but Nancy felt as though she were standing at the end of a very long and dark tunnel. She was listening with an intensity that bordered on obsessive because she needed to find every detail and every hidden meaning even if it felt like pressing a bruise.
She told herself that this was simply who she was. She was a journalist and an investigator by nature. Of course she wanted to know the story behind this new girl. It was only natural to want to understand the shifting dynamics of her social circle especially when it concerned a friend as close as Steve.
She took a slow and deliberate breath to steady the frantic rhythm of her heart. She reasoned that her initial reaction had simply been a case of mild shock. She was surprised that a change in Steve’s life had gone unnoticed by her for two whole weeks.
She had always prided herself on being observant and the idea that she had missed something so significant made her feel as though she had lost her edge. Perhaps she had been too self-centered lately or perhaps she had just grown too comfortable with the way things were. Steve had always been there like a constant and unchanging force. She had never felt the need to worry about him leaving or changing.
She began to construct a rational fortress in her mind. She told herself that Steve was a handsome and charming man and it was only a matter of time before he found someone new. He had been alone for a long time and he deserved to be happy. If it turned out to be something serious with Samantha then Nancy would simply have to adjust.
If he had less time for their projects or if he missed a few group hangouts to be with her then that was just a part of growing up. She told herself she was happy for her good friend. Truly and honestly happy. She clung to the word friend until it felt like a shield. Nancy Wheeler loved rational explanations and she was satisfied with the logic she had spun.
A bright and melodic laugh suddenly cut through the air and snapped her out of her thoughts. Steve had apparently made a joke that sent the whole group into fits of giggles. Samantha was leaning toward him and her hazel eyes were sparkling with a light that made Nancy’s chest tighten.
She noticed that for the first time in years Steve didn't look toward her for a reaction. He didn't seek out her eyes to see if she found the joke funny or to share a private moment of confirmation. He was entirely focused on the girl beside him.
Nancy looked away and took a deep and stinging gulp of her drink. The alcohol burned its way down her throat and provided a momentary distraction from the dryness that had settled there.
She forced herself to push the lingering doubts aside and re-enter the conversation with a determined smile. She was back in control. She had convinced herself that her earlier panic was just a momentary lapse in judgment caused by a sudden surprise.
About half an hour later she excused herself to get a refill.
The kitchen was crowded and the air was hot and by the time she made her way back to their corner she realized the group had shifted. Robin and Jonathan were still there but Steve and Samantha were gone.
Nancy scanned the room and her eyes darted frantically through the shadows and the flickering lights. Before she could even open her mouth to ask where they had gone Robin caught her gaze. Robin seemed to read the silent question in Nancy’s eyes before it was even fully formed. She pointed toward the makeshift dance floor at the other end of the living room.
Nancy followed her finger and felt the plastic cup in her hand begin to slip. She gripped it tighter until the plastic groaned under the pressure.
Steve was out there and he looked more alive than she had seen him in months. He was spinning Samantha around and his movements were fluid and full of a joy that Nancy hadn't witnessed since they were teenagers. He whirled a laughing Samantha through the crowd and then pulled her back close to his chest for a brief second before spinning her out again. The familiarity and the rhythm they shared felt like a physical weight on Nancy’s lungs.
Robin looked between Nancy and Jonathan and spoke up with a forced casualness. She told them they shouldn't feel guilty if they wanted to get out there and dance too and she added that she didn't mind waiting there alone.
Jonathan shook his head and gave a small and awkward shrug. He said that he was fine where he was and reminded everyone that he was never much of a dancer anyway.
Nancy felt a surge of bitterness rise up in her throat like a wave of cold water. Her voice was sharp and brittle when she agreed with him. She said that Jonathan was right and that they simply weren't the kind of people who danced.
Jonathan didn't seem to catch the edge in her tone but Robin’s eyes widened.
She took a deep breath and looked from Nancy to the dancing couple on the floor and then back again.
Nancy could almost hear Robin thinking the words oh boy as she realized the depth of the tension in the room. Robin watched as Nancy stared at the dance floor with a gaze that could have burned through steel.
Without saying another word Nancy raised her cup and drained the entire thing in one long and desperate motion. She stood there in the middle of the noise and the music and stared at the man she called her friend as he held another woman in the light.
Nancy pushed through the increasingly dense crowd in the living room. The air back here was even more stagnant, heavy with the sweat of dancing bodies and the cloyingly sweet, artificial scent of the punch.
When she reached the refreshment table, her fingers trembled almost imperceptibly as she poured herself another cup, filling it to the very brim.
She didn't even wait to return to the group. With a mechanical, almost defiant motion, she raised the cup and drained it in one long, desperate draught. The cold, sticky liquid didn't burn nearly as much as the lump in her throat, but it offered a momentary numbness. Immediately, she refilled the plastic cup, gripping it so tightly the material gave a faint groan, and began her trek back.
She forced her shoulders to straighten. Journalistic distance, she commanded herself. Just be the observer. She would go back, engage in small talk, and act as if Samantha were nothing more than an insignificant footnote in her life.
But as she tried to perfect this mask of nonchalance, something inside her began to shift, something she couldn't control. The barriers she had painstakingly built around her memories started to crumble under the influence of the alcohol and sheer emotional overload.
Suddenly, she was back there: that fateful Halloween party.
The smell of cheap beer, the dim, flickering lights, and that ugly, searing sensation deep in her chest. She saw Steve’s face. The way it had contorted when she hurled those words at him like poisoned arrows.
Bullshit. Everything had been bullshit.
Their love, their relationship, the man himself. She had dragged his feelings through the dirt in front of everyone, dissecting his heart with a precision that made her shudder even now.
A sharp jolt of guilt pierced through her. How could he have stayed after that? Why hadn't he just walked away and left her to rot in her self-imposed misery? Instead, he had been there. He was there when she left him for Jonathan, he was there when the world literally started ending, and he was even there to shake Jonathan’s hand when he returned from California.
Steve had sacrificed his own happiness on the altar of the group time and time again. Or worse, on the altar of her happiness. He had forgiven her without her ever truly asking for it. He was just Steve. A man whose true nature was so much deeper and nobler than his perfect hair or his former reputation as "King Steve" would ever suggest.
Nancy stole a glance at Jonathan. He was still standing with Robin, lecturing with a quiet, almost sedative passion about the shutter speeds and aperture of his new lens. Jonathan was safety personified. He was the harbor where the waves never crashed too high. With him, there were no dramatic scenes, no risky emotional fireworks, just a steady, reliable melancholy. He was the calm after the storm, but Nancy felt with terrifying clarity in that moment that perhaps she wasn't built for the calm.
She carried so much fire inside her, such an uncontrollable drive for the truth, for action. Jonathan offered her shelter from the wind, but he was also cutting off the oxygen her inner fire needed to keep from fading into mere ash.
Jonathan caught her gaze and paused his sentence briefly to smile at her with a gentleness that nearly broke her heart. In his mind, the world was in perfect order. He had watched the way Nancy approached Samantha and interpreted her cool politeness as the final proof that a chapter had closed.
To Jonathan, Steve Harrington was no longer a threat; he was just an old acquaintance with a pretty date. He felt a profound sense of gratitude toward this Samantha because she, in his eyes, had removed the last obstacle standing between him and Nancy.
He hadn't the slightest inkling that the woman he loved was screaming internally, caught in a web of regret and suppressed longing.
The dance floor spat Steve and Samantha back out. Steve was laughing, his face slightly flushed from the movement, looking so unburdened it caused Nancy physical pain. He spun Samantha one last time in a playful circle before they came to a halt with the group. It was a gesture full of levity, a dance that cast no dark shadows.
Steve announced with an almost offensive cheerfulness that the first round was surely empty and he was going for reinforcements immediately.
Nancy watched as he turned and headed back toward the kitchen. Without thinking, without gracing Jonathan or Robin with so much as a glance, she set down her empty cup and followed him.
Her movements were purposeful, driven by an impulse she sold to herself as purely rational.
She needed a new drink, after all. It was the logical conclusion. The fact that her heart was thumping so loudly in her ears that it drowned out the music was something she ignored with all the willpower of a Wheeler. She had to catch him alone, even if she didn't yet know what she would say once she actually reached him.
Nancy squeezed through the narrow gap between two laughing seniors, her heart racing faster with every step that brought her closer to the kitchen. When she finally reached the counter, she didn't say a word. She just stood there, her gaze fixed on Steve with an intensity that bordered on predatory.
Steve, who was in the middle of pouring a soda, looked up and caught her eye. He offered her a hesitant, slightly confused smile, his eyebrows knit together in that familiar, endearing way. "Nance?"
Nancy didn't respond. She reached for the half-empty bottle of vodka on the counter, her hand trembling slightly as she tipped it over her plastic cup. She filled it to the brim, the clear liquid splashing over the edge and onto her knuckles.
Steve’s smile faltered, replaced by a look of genuine concern. He leaned in a little, trying to catch her eyes, which were darting everywhere but at him. "Are you okay, Nance? You seem... a little windswept tonight. Even for a party."
Nancy nodded vigorously, her head bobbing like a doll’s. "Mhm-mhm," she managed to squeeze out, her throat feeling as though it were lined with sandpaper. To prove her point, she lifted the cup and took a massive, burning gulp.
Steve’s eyes widened, and he instinctively reached out as if to catch the cup. "Whoa, whoa! Easy, Nancy. That stuff is basically jet fuel. Take it easy."
She ignored the warning, the alcohol hitting her bloodstream like a lightning strike. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and looked at him, her filter beginning to dissolve. "So... Samantha, huh?"
Steve blinked, taken back by the sudden shift in topic. "Yeah. Sam. She's…"
"Saved her, huh?" Nancy interrupted, her voice laced with a bitter, jagged edge of sarcasm. She leaned against the counter, her eyes tracing the familiar lines of his face. "Just like you always do. Good old King Steve. Savior of the world, savior of every damsel in distress who happens to break down on the side of the road."
Steve looked momentarily stung, but then, the irritation smoothed over. He let out a soft huff of a laugh and ran a hand through his hair. That thick, perfect mane that Nancy knew smelled like sandalwood and coconut. Just the thought of that scent, of being close enough to breathe it in, made her head spin more than the vodka ever could. She felt dizzy, the room tilting on its axis as she watched his hand move through those chestnut locks.
"I wouldn't call it saving, Nance," Steve said, his voice dropping into that easy, charismatic tone that had always been her undoing. He offered her a lopsided grin, the one that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. "I was just in the right place at the right time. Perfect timing, I guess."
Timing.
The word echoed in Nancy’s head like a death knell.
She stared at him, the noise of the party fading into a dull, distant hum.
Perfect timing.
That was the one thing they had never mastered. They were a series of missed connections and tragic overlaps.
When he was ready, she was scared. When she was brave, he was hurt. When they were both finally standing in the same light, the shadows of the Upside Down and Jonathan had already crept in between them.
She took another sip of her drink, the bitterness of the alcohol matching the taste of the realization in her mouth. They had all the chemistry in the world, all the shared trauma, and all the unspoken words, but they had never, ever had the timing.
"Yeah," Nancy whispered, her voice barely audible over the thump of the music. "Timing. It's everything, isn't it?"
Steve opened his mouth to say something, his expression softening into something dangerously close to the way he used to look at her, but then a voice from the doorway broke the spell.
"Steve? You okay in here? You're taking forever."
It was Samantha. She was leaning against the doorframe, looking effortlessly beautiful and completely unburdened.
Nancy watched as Steve’s focus shifted. The intensity in his eyes vanished, replaced by that polite, "new" warmth. "Yeah, Sam! Just getting hijacked by Wheeler here. Be right there."
Nancy felt like she had been doused in ice water. She stood frozen as Steve gathered the drinks, giving her one last, lingering look that she couldn't quite decipher before he turned and walked toward the girl who had arrived at the perfect time.
The remainder of the party passed in a blur of distorted bass and a growing heavy fog in Nancys mind. She did not seek Steve out again. Instead she anchored herself to a spot near the wall nursing her drink until the ice had melted into a watery tasteless residue.
She watched from a distance as the professional observer once more as Steve laughed with Samantha their heads tilted toward one another. She saw the way Samantha reached out to touch his arm when she made a point a gesture so natural it felt like a serrated blade across Nancys nerves.
Beside her Jonathan was a picture of serene contentment. He leaned back against the wall a slight relaxed smile on his face.
In his mind the night had been a triumph. The tension that had haunted his return from California finally seemed to be dissipating. He looked at Steve and Samantha and saw a resolution a clear boundary that protected his relationship with Nancy. He felt a weight lifting off his chest unaware that the weight had simply shifted onto hers growing heavier with every passing second.
"Hey it is getting late" Jonathan murmured his voice warm and thick with relief. "And Robin looks like she is about to fall asleep standing up. We should probably head out."
As if on cue the group gravitated toward the door. Since Steve was the only one who had remained strictly sober as the self appointed mom of the group as always he jingled his keys with a tired but friendly grin. "Alright kids. Pile in the Beemer. Harringtons Taxi Service is officially open for business."
The walk to the car felt like a funeral procession to Nancy. The night air was crisp biting through her thin jacket but the cold did not sharpen her senses. It only made the hollow ache in her chest feel more brittle.
Then came the seating arrangement. The final silent indignity.
Samantha walked naturally toward the passenger side. She opened the door and slid into the seat with an ease that suggested she had done it a dozen times already. Nancy watched frozen for a heartbeat.
That was her seat. That was the seat where they had argued about music where they had shared quiet terrified glances after a close call with a Demogorgon where she had once felt like the center of Steves universe.
Now Samantha was there adjusting the vents and leaning forward to examine the dashboard.
"Come on Nance" Jonathan said gently ushering her toward the back.
Nancy climbed in sandwiched between Jonathan and Robin. The back of the BMW had never felt so cramped. Jonathan was pressed against the door, his knees drawn up while Robin leaned her head against the window already half drifting into an alcohol induced nap.
The engine purred to life. A sound Nancy knew by heart. Almost immediately Samantha reached for the radio. "Do you mind" she asked Steve her fingers already dancing over the buttons.
"Go for it" Steve replied his voice soft and indulgent.
Samantha found a station playing a light upbeat pop song. Something catchy and vacuous that Nancy hated instantly. As the music filled the car Samantha began to hum along her fingers tapping a rhythm on the dashboard. It was a domestic effortless intimacy that felt like a mockery of everything Nancy and Steve had built on a foundation of blood and secrets.
Steve pulled out into the quiet streets of Hawkins. Nancy sat in the shadows of the backseat her eyes fixed on the rearview mirror. For a fleeting second their eyes met in the reflection. Steves gaze was unreadable shrouded in the dim light of the streetlamps passing overhead but he was the first to look away focusing back on the road.
Jonathan reached over and took Nancys hand lacing his fingers through hers. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze a gesture of love and solidarity. Nancy did not pull away but she did not squeeze back.
She felt like a ghost haunting her own life watching from the darkness as a stranger operated the radio in a car that used to be her sanctuary driven by a man who had finally found the perfect timing with someone else.
The car moved through the silent town the upbeat music on the radio providing a cruel soundtrack to the quiet shattering of Nancys heart.
The car ride was a slow torture of suburban silence and cheerful pop melodies. Steve drove with a calm steady hand while Robin leaned forward from the backseat to chime in with occasional sarcastic comments. When they reached Robins house she practically tumbled out of the car.
"Thanks for the lift dingus" Robin said with a playful affectionate grin as she leaned through the window to give Steves shoulder a quick squeeze. "Do not do anything I would not do. Bye Sam. See you guys later."
Steve laughed a genuine warm sound that made Nancy feel like she was being erased. "Goodnight Robin. Get some sleep."
With Robin gone the space in the back felt even more cavernous and cold. Steve pulled away from the curb and headed toward Nancys house.
Samantha stayed in the front her head bobbing slightly to the music. She did not need to move closer to Steve for Nancy to feel the invisible tether between them. It was there in the way Steve glanced at the passenger side mirror and caught Samanthas reflection instead of hers.
When the BMW finally idled in front of the Wheeler house Jonathan let out a long breath of satisfaction. "Thanks for the ride Steve" he said opening the door. "Really glad you could make it tonight. It was good to meet you Samantha."
"You too Jonathan" Samantha replied with a bright smile.
Nancy climbed out of the car her legs feeling like lead. She stood on the sidewalk as Jonathan walked around to join her. Steve gave her a short polite nod through the window. "See you around Nance" he said his voice even and detached.
Then the engine revved and the taillights of the BMW disappeared into the darkness taking Steve and Samantha with them.
Nancy watched the red glow fade away her mind spiraling into a frantic series of questions. Were they going to his house? Was he walking her to her door? Was he kissing her right now in the quiet intimacy of that car?
Inside the house Jonathan was glowing. As they reached her bedroom he pulled her close his hands resting on her waist with a newfound confidence. To him the world was finally in balance. The threat of Steve Harrington had been neutralized by a girl named Samantha.
"Tonight was perfect" Jonathan whispered leaning in to kiss her neck. "I feel like we finally turned a corner Nance."
Nancy felt a wave of cold repulsion. She stiffened in his arms her skin crawling at the touch. "I can not Jonathan" she muttered pulling away. "I am just... I am really tired. The drinks I think. I just need to sleep."
Jonathan looked disappointed but he nodded understandingly. "Of course. It was a long night. Sleep well Nance."
But as soon as the door closed and she was alone in the dark the thoughts became a stampede.
She saw Steves hands on Samanthas skin. She imagined him whispering the same things to her that he used to whisper to Nancy. She pictured them together the heat the touch the devastating intimacy of it all.
The room began to spin. A violent surge of nausea hit her so hard it took her breath away. Nancy bolted for the bathroom stumbling in the dark. She barely made it to the toilet before she was sick her body racking with tremors as she emptied her stomach.
From the hallway she heard Jonathans muffled voice. "Nancy? You okay? Too much punch huh?"
"Yeah" she choked out wiping her mouth her eyes stinging with tears that had nothing to do with the alcohol. "Too much punch."
She sat on the cold tile floor her head resting against the wall. It was not the drink. It was the realization that while Jonathan was celebrating his victory Nancy was mourning a loss she was not even supposed to feel.