[ when he mentions the hairspray, she laughs, too. the awkwardness dissipates. whatever she and steve were, however it may have ended (she still doesn't recall the party, although the day after sticks in her mind), they're going to find a way to make this work.
then, he aks her to clarify. she swings the bat, a sharp whizz through the air, releasing her frustration. ]
Mike and Will don't remember it. And Will thinks he — [ another swing. she nearly knocks herself off balance. steady, nance. ] — Will thinks we had to kill him.
[ boy, would she ever love to shatter something right now. ]
[ it's really not fair at all, the way her laugh still spikes directly into his chest, but there's something about the room, even about how she swings that bat, that gives him a strange sense of comfort.
of place, of something he can handle. even if it's uncharted territory, like whatever they are supposed to be. ]
Mike told me that, but I thought he was lying. [ you know....a normal assumption to make. but then she takes another swing, talks about will dying, and steve is pushing himself up to sit, because just the idea alone is so hard to swallow he can't bring himself to ask laying back. ]
[ finally, she allows the bat to hang limply at her side. ]
I know. [ said quietly, directed at the floor. she knows that it's beyond words, caught somewhere between absurd and tragic. if will hadn't implied his conclusions to her over text, she doesn't know what she would have done. finding the words had taken time.
after a moment, she hazards a glance back at steve. if her eyes are wet, she'll blame it on the rain. ]
As if Joyce and Jonathan would ever — [ she cuts herself off, unable to go on without choking on the words. give her a minute to compose herself. ] I don't know if he believed me when I told him what really happened.
[ once again, all she had to do was tell the truth, so of course it still isn't enough. ]
[ at first his eyes are on her, watching the stress drop out of her, falling lip at her side just like the bat. then his eyes are on the floor in front of him, a bit wide, thinking about if things could have come to that, if that was their last option, if...
there is a physical lurching at the idea, shaking it out before it even solidifies. he looks up at what feels like the same time she looks to him, seeing the tears and the same ugly, awful feeling, and steve is standing and stepping towards her. ]
They wouldn't. [ as if she needs the affirmation.
he feels awkward, realizing now that his standing had been in an effort to move to her, to comfort her. now that he's standing, he doesn't know what to do about it, his hands hanging awkwardly at his sides. after a brief, awkward second, steve lifts one of his hands to comb his fingers through his hair. ] Well. Not that he'd come to me, but I'll tell him the same. That he's fine. He'd believe you over me, anyway, but. [ another pause, and then steve lets out a breath. ]
[ today, in this moment, the affirmation is necessary. she's right. about jonathan and joyce, about what happened to will, about trying to tell him the truth. she leans the bat against the wall and faces steve again, crossing her arms and taking a few steps closer. her eyes flutter in an attempt to ward off tears. ]
I don't know. [ her voice breaks, then, as it has in steve's presence so many times before now. she feels so horrible and helpless, at times like she had while hidden in the upside down or when eleven had simply said gone when she asked after barb.
she screws her eyes shut in time for a few tears to squeeze out at the corners. ]
[ he feels bad, and immediately regrets the question. not because he shouldn't have brought it up, but because of the exact reaction he gets from it. from her. she steps closer to him and closes her eyes, and despite knowing it's not the same, steve can't find it in him to stop as he steps closer to her too. ]
Hey, hey- [ he shouldn't have asked, he knows he shouldn't, and he also shouldn't be doing this. but nancy screws her eyes shut and steve reaches out, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulling her in for a hug. there's nothing behind it beyond the simple need to comfort her, knowing that it's nancy wheeler, that she's walking around with the world on her shoulders. ]
It's okay. [ he knows he's the one who asked, but at the same time, he still supplies- ] We'll figure it out.
[ she wishes she didn't need the comfort, that she wasn't some teenage girl crying all over her — her ex-boyfriend, to put it even more childishly, but she sinks into his arms, burying her face in his chest and twisting her hands into the fabric covering his back. dimly, she thinks she should apologise: for inviting herself over, for falling apart now, perhaps even for the way everything ended, not so long ago.
instead, she croaks out a muffled agreement. ]
Yeah. [ a beat. ] Yeah, we will.
[ and despite everything, she's grateful that he's here, once again pulling her out of her head, like he has so many times before. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bless u
then, he aks her to clarify. she swings the bat, a sharp whizz through the air, releasing her frustration. ]
Mike and Will don't remember it. And Will thinks he — [ another swing. she nearly knocks herself off balance. steady, nance. ] — Will thinks we had to kill him.
[ boy, would she ever love to shatter something right now. ]
no subject
of place, of something he can handle. even if it's uncharted territory, like whatever they are supposed to be. ]
Mike told me that, but I thought he was lying. [ you know....a normal assumption to make. but then she takes another swing, talks about will dying, and steve is pushing himself up to sit, because just the idea alone is so hard to swallow he can't bring himself to ask laying back. ]
He thinks we killed him?
no subject
I know. [ said quietly, directed at the floor. she knows that it's beyond words, caught somewhere between absurd and tragic. if will hadn't implied his conclusions to her over text, she doesn't know what she would have done. finding the words had taken time.
after a moment, she hazards a glance back at steve. if her eyes are wet, she'll blame it on the rain. ]
As if Joyce and Jonathan would ever — [ she cuts herself off, unable to go on without choking on the words. give her a minute to compose herself. ] I don't know if he believed me when I told him what really happened.
[ once again, all she had to do was tell the truth, so of course it still isn't enough. ]
no subject
there is a physical lurching at the idea, shaking it out before it even solidifies. he looks up at what feels like the same time she looks to him, seeing the tears and the same ugly, awful feeling, and steve is standing and stepping towards her. ]
They wouldn't. [ as if she needs the affirmation.
he feels awkward, realizing now that his standing had been in an effort to move to her, to comfort her. now that he's standing, he doesn't know what to do about it, his hands hanging awkwardly at his sides. after a brief, awkward second, steve lifts one of his hands to comb his fingers through his hair. ] Well. Not that he'd come to me, but I'll tell him the same. That he's fine. He'd believe you over me, anyway, but. [ another pause, and then steve lets out a breath. ]
Shit Nance, what do we even do with this?
no subject
I don't know. [ her voice breaks, then, as it has in steve's presence so many times before now. she feels so horrible and helpless, at times like she had while hidden in the upside down or when eleven had simply said gone when she asked after barb.
she screws her eyes shut in time for a few tears to squeeze out at the corners. ]
no subject
Hey, hey- [ he shouldn't have asked, he knows he shouldn't, and he also shouldn't be doing this. but nancy screws her eyes shut and steve reaches out, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulling her in for a hug. there's nothing behind it beyond the simple need to comfort her, knowing that it's nancy wheeler, that she's walking around with the world on her shoulders. ]
It's okay. [ he knows he's the one who asked, but at the same time, he still supplies- ] We'll figure it out.
no subject
instead, she croaks out a muffled agreement. ]
Yeah. [ a beat. ] Yeah, we will.
[ and despite everything, she's grateful that he's here, once again pulling her out of her head, like he has so many times before. ]