chapter twenty-one ♰ Syd & Nancy

  Georgia Harrington hated when her husband was away on business without her. Mostly because she knew what it meant ━━ infidelity. He could either be snorting a line from the sternum of a pretty, young woman who'd charm him with sweet lies, or dancing around the obvious attraction he had for his secretary, Luke. Scott would be rude to him ━━ borderline fucking abusive. Just as caustic with Luke as he was with his wife, but there was always something harrowingly carnal about it. Something Georgia never got. But also because it meant that Steve was never in.

  She didn't hate her son's absence because she wanted some equality time with him, or that she missed him when he wasn't around. She hated it because eventually, Steve would come home ━━ most likely drunk, or stoned. Some time in August, he came staggering in and bumped into the quaint drawers in the foyer, the dull ache in his knee sending a surge of nausea through him that made Steve vomit right on the marble floor. Georgia had found him crying next to a puddle of his own puke, slurring about being sorry, and being a fuck-up, and she had to clean it up as he sat there, cradling his legs to his chest and sniffling. She had to take him upstairs ━━ and it reminded her of doting on Scott whenever he had one line too many. She had to use one of her fancy dishcloths to clean the sick residue from around his mouth ━━ lips bitten raw from anxieties that she didn't want to think about. It had been one of the worst nights of Georgia's life. It made her think of college. Of carrying Scott back to her dorm while her friends had a good night, because he didn't know when to stop indulging. It made her think of every other shitty night she ever had.

  Like a good mother, Georgia tucked Steve into the fresh linen of his sheets ━━ they still smelt like eucalyptus from when she had to wash them; because if she didn't, Steve would probably leave them for months on end. It was a Herculean labour to lift his gangly legs up onto the bed and pry his ruined shoes off his feet, but she did it. Painstakingly. He was still gargling nonsense, and tears still slipped down the rotten apples of his cheeks, and he seemed so... sullen. Her mind kept telling her ━━ he's not Scott, he's your son. He's your son. But he'd look up at her with those bloodshot, hickory eyes of his and they looked just like her husband's. Especially when swollen with guilty tears, and his pupils were dilated thanks to the alcohol in his system.

  Jaw set, Georgia had went to leave. But he murmured something into his pillow that made her bones go stiff.

  "Mom."

  And it was the saddest fucking thing she even heard. Even more heart-breaking than her own utterance of "I do" 20 tortured years ago.

  "Steve, go to sleep," she had seethed, going to leave again.

  "Please." He wasn't Scott ━━ because Scott didn't beg. Scott didn't get emotional like this. Scott hadn't felt anything visceral in years. Not unless it was a primal urge. "I'm so...I'm so fucking lonely, Mom."

  Georgia's eye twitched. She had her back to him. She was glaring at the door, and the crack in it, which let a trickle of sacred light ooze through. Inside his room, it was almost pitch-black. She wondered if he had managed to roll over to look at her, or if his muscles were too rigid from all the drinking to even move. Or if they were just two lonely people with their backs facing each other, speaking out into darkness and little slithers of tangible light.

  "You don't even know what lonely means, Steve," she said bitterly. He was her grudge. He was the flesh and blood and bone of everything that was snatched from her. "You have your pretty little girlfriend from Maple Street. You have your friends. You've got everything."

  A doleful silence filled the air. Then, a boyish sniffle. The guttural emptying of a dry throat. And, finally, "No. I don't."

  Georgia's hands curled into fists at her side and she sharply turned around. He had managed to sit up, after all. He looked so fucking sad, it made her sick. She didn't know if it was a maternal instinct to feel a kick in the gut to see her child so upset, or if it was because of how contemptuous she felt right now that it made her dizzy with it. Steve's back was flush against his headboard, and he was toying with a fraying thread of his sweater ━━ he was crestfallen, and he was her son, and Georgia had never hated anybody more.

  "What don't you have?" sneered Georgia. "What haven't I given you? You know how many people would kill to have what you have?"

  Steve laughed emptily, and it sent ugly chills down Georgia's spine to hear something so apathetic come out of him. "What? Two parents who never loved him?"

  Georgia tongued her cheek. "What's this really about? Is it about the Sommers girl?"

  "You don't know anything about that," said Steve, almost viciously.

  "I think I do. I know all about you little affair ━━ you're just like your father."

  It was a low-blow. It was a sucker-punch. Georgia wasn't sure if she meant it. But it cracked out across Steve's skin like a whip. She went for the jugular.

  Steve looked up at her, and even through the darkness, she could see he might cry. "You don't mean that, Mom," he mumbled mournfully.

  "Oh, but I do," she snarled, feeling cruel and angry and seeing Scott. "Mrs Collymore phoned me not long after you left Marquette, y'know? Told me how lovely she thought Sydney was. And she asked if I could have a sit down with you ━━ a heart-to-heart ━━ about Nancy and about Sydney. As if my 17-year-old son needs his fucking mom to tell him that cheating's bad."

  He was staring at her in utter anguish, and Georgia felt a sick twist of victory. He was all Scott. Give it a few years, and he'll be coming home from work with another woman's lipstick stain on his collar, and use the joint account he shares with his wife to buy jewellery that wasn't for her. To her, she was doing the world a favour ━━ it didn't need another Scott. Another arrogant man who used women like little marionettes. Better yank it out the roots than sever the stem ━━ because something mutilated can always grow back. You need it make sure it can't fester anymore.

  "You were born with it," Georgia lamented. "You'd never share with the other kids ━━ even your cousins when they'd visit. You were spoilt. And selfish. That's your father. And I think it's why... I never really loved you."

  Steve glared down at his bedsheets, tears stinging in his eyes now, like acid rain. "I may have been a spoilt kid, but you've been a shitty mom."

  Georgia lifted her head. "I don't deny that." She inhaled deeply through her nose and flattened out the creases over her abdomen. "Truth is, I should never have had a kid. Some people just aren't made to be mothers."

  "Why did you then?"

  "Your father wanted a son."

  Steve scoffed. "What a big fucking disappointment he got instead."

  Georgia hummed, as if agreeing. "I wanted dogs ━━ I wanted to be a writer. I wanted to travel."

  "You should've had dogs."

  "Not with your father." Georgia gave a disparaging smile. "He never saw anything he loved that he didn't want to kick, just to see if it would still come back."

  Steve nodded. "Sounds like Dad." A silence fell over them again and it's the most peace Georgia had felt in years. She chugged it down like a glass of wine until her belly was warm and she felt like she had finally won something. "Do you really think I'm like him?"

  "Well, are you still dating Nancy?"

  "Yes, but ━━"

  "And is Sydney still who you want?"

  He gulped. He said nothing. Georgia already knew the answer.

  "Goodnight, Steve."

  That was in August.

  Now it's Halloween night, and Scott had insisted again that this business trip was one Georgia couldn't tag along for ━━ he was sealing an important deal, and he couldn't have 'the interruptions'. Leaving Georgia at home. Her husband halfway across the country, conveying love through hate to a young man, or inhaling drugs off the bare body parts of an escort. Something debauched, she had no doubt. And Steve was out at some party down the street. Her dread of him coming home made her too irate to even pretend to care about trick-or-treaters this year ━━ every time the doorbell rang, she ignored it. She heard the mewls of disappointment as they trudged down the driveway with sad frowns, and she wouldn't even flinch. She didn't even love her own child. Why should she give candy to someone else's?

  It's almost midnight when she heard the door unlock and braced herself in the living room for another ugly encounter. The hearth was dying out in the fire ━━ spitting charred embers, and billowing ash up into the chimney. She had purposely stayed up, just in case Steve had drank too much again and decided to empty his guts on the polished marble. Georgia wondered if a sadistic part of her enjoyed seeing him so distraught, and getting to lash out him as unforgivingly as she did. He never mentioned it again. If he even remembered the night, he didn't say. It was cathartic. That's why she stayed up... watching the flames die. Waiting for the the sound of heavy footsteps.

  But she hadn't expected to hear 2 sets of them. She hadn't excepted the sound of thrilled laughter, and hissing shushes, or the wet noises of exaggerated kisses as the thud of bodies against the wall caused Georgia to jump up to her feet and march to the foyer.

  In the glare of the still lit chandelier, Steve had cornered a girl against the wall, and was pressing a finger to her grinning lips with a soft shush, all whilst she balled up the lapels of his black jacket and nestled her head into his chest with breathy laughter falling from her lungs. Georgia came to a sharp halt in the doorway, eyes narrowing at the scene ━━ one of her son's hands at the girl's hip (with a far more gentle touch than Scott would ever use), and keeping her flush against the wall. The girl was dressed like the princess from the loud sci-fi films that Steve had been watching on repeat for months now ━━ adorned in a white gown, pieces of her hair now falling out of a dishevelled halo braid, and her sunken cheeks were rosy with life. Steve ducked down to kiss the juncture of her shoulder and neck, and Georgia caught a glimpse of the girl's face.

  For a second, it looked just like Christine Sommers, and Georgia felt the horror of it in her veins.

  Then it registered with her that this was Sydney.

  This was the girl Steve would compose clumsy ballads about on his guitar, and sometimes cry over when he thought Georgia was asleep. This was the girl he had cheated on his girlfriend with. This was the fabrication of Georgia's most macabre nightmares.

  "Steve."

  Her voice cut out like a sterilised needle.

  Steve jolted back, hands flying off Sydney like he had been caught doing something terrible. Which he had. He was just like his father. He was a cheating, selfish, greedy little boy who had been given too much in life. Steve stole his hands away in his trouser pockets, as if he wouldn't be able to keep them off the flustered girl now stood next to him otherwise. Sydney's cheeks went from a lovesick pink to a cardinal red ━━ the liturgical colour of sin, hellfire, and carnage ━━ and she tucked her head down in abashment.

  "Mom," he choked out, scratching his neck. "Uhhhh, this is ━━ this is Sydney."

  Georgia looked catatonic. "I know who she is. Where's Nancy?"

  A horrible expression scrunched up Sydney's face ━━ one of dismay, and guilt, and utter despondency. There was hangnail that her fingers instantly went to tug at. It started to bleed.

  Steve stared at his mother insolently. "We broke up."

  "Are you lying to me?"

  "Mom!" Steve exclaimed. "That's ━━ no, I'm not lying. Why would I lie about that?"

  Georgia's shrug was callous. "'Something your dad would do."

  "Well, I'm not him," gritted out her son.

  "Whatever." She looked at Sydney nastily, and her lips curled with a rude smugness. "I'm not cleaning up your sick today, Steve. I'm going to bed."

  Steve watched his mom ascend the staircase with his heart in his throat, and waited for her to disappear into the shadows of her own room (for the belligerent slam of the door), to turn around and face Sydney. He could've put a hole in the wall to look at her like that ━━ so dejected, and shrinking with regret. She couldn't even look back at him. She flinched when his hands settled on her shoulders like the weight of the earth; like she was a Girl Atlas.

  "I should probably go," she muttered.

  Sydney went to leave, and Steve planted his hands a little firmer onto her shoulders, digging his heels into the floor. "No. You shouldn't. Ignore her, she just ━━ she hates me."

  Her brows knot. "I'm sure she doesn't. She probably just thinks I'm a homewrecker, or something."

  "No. No, she ━━" Steve faltered when Sydney's eyes raised to meet his, with a little challenge, and the subtle raise of a brow, and he sighed, relenting. "OK, maybe. But it's nothing personal to you. She thinks I'm like my dad, and he's, like, a total jackass. He cheats on her all the time ━━ I don't even think he bothers to hide it anymore."

  She let that sink in with a sting in her chest. "And she thinks I'm the one you're cheating on Nance with ━━ or, knows I am."

  Steve hesitated. "It's not your fault."

  "No...it is. It's both of ours." She let her head rest on his chest again. His heart was thumping nervously against his ribs. "We're never gonna work out."

  "Don't say that," he pleaded. Steve reeled her back to look her in the eyes; his were wild, and desperate, and absolutely terrified. "We'll figure it out. I'm not letting you go again, OK? I made you a promise ━━ granted, I'm a year late ━━ but I said I'd do right by you, and I...I wanna keep it this time."

  Sydney never really understood the word lovesick until Steve. How could love make anybody sick? But now she got it. Now, she felt feverish, and achy, and a bit delirious. She felt drugged up on cough syrup ━━ the kind that makes you feel like you're wading through molasses. His thumb stroked over the slope of her cheekbone, and even brushed briefly over her slightly parted lips. She shivered, mad with this illness, and craned her neck so she was faintly kissing the inside of his palm.

  "I'm not your girlfriend," she told him, and she meant it. Steve's brows furrowed, and he went to move his hand, but Sydney's fingers curled around his wrist and kept it there. "Yet. We have some shit to work through, yeah? I don't wanna... If we do this, I wanna do it right with you."

  Steve nodded profusely, a few curled strands falling onto his forehead. "Yeah. Yeah ━━ me too." It was like a body reflex; the way his free hand threaded with hers. "Whatever you want. At your pace."

  "Let's go upstairs, yeah?" Sydney mused.

  A dreamy sigh left him, and he tightened the hold on her jaw again. He tucked a finger under her chin and lifted it, wondering if his drunken eyes conveyed how much he fucking adored her. (They did). Smiling like man high on morphine, Steve ducked down and messily put his mouth on hers. Sydney kissed him back without moderation. It was all teeth and tongue and wanting, and she wove her fingers through his dishevelled hair. Steve snaked an arm round her waist, bringing her so close that he could feel the exhilarated brag of her heart against his ribcage ━━ a bit clumsily, his other hand reached out to start gracelessly pluck out all the bobby pins from her hair.

  Sydney deepened the kiss, treading forward, and Steve kept his arm around her torso as his big, maladroit feet hit the first step of his staircase. She laughed against his lips as he grappled for the banister. They kissed the entire way upstairs ━━ which was messy, and nearly left Steve with a sprained ankle and a concussion, but it didn't seem like he cared. The kisses were arbitrary, and passionate, and not really serious at all ━━ not with Sydney giggling at Steve's unmethodical stumbling, and him refusing to let go of her hip even though it probably would've made the ordeal a lot easier. They were like searing burns as he kept his mouth on hers down the landing ━━ lingering a bit longer outside of his mom's room, just to piss her off ━━ and all the way to his door. He enclosed Sydney flush against it, finally separating from her for some air. His aching chest breathed out in rugged pants, but the slight sting in his lungs was compensated by the pretty blush on Sydney's cheeks. God, he'd sell a lung for her to always look like this.

  All crimson and bashful and longing and pretty.

  "Gonna kiss me again, Harrington?" she taunted, breathless too. "Not sure you can handle it."

  "Oh, is that so?"

  Sydney lifted her chin, head lightly hitting the door behind her as she grinned up at him. "Looking a bit... out of breath?"

  "Fuck you, Sommers. I'll show you out of breath."

  He crowded in on her, totally invading her space. The inhale in her throat hitched unexpectedly, and she thought he'd kiss her again. But Steve just turned the doorknob, and sent her staggering into his shadowy room. He wound both arms around her this time, and kicked the door shut behind him. On the inelegant stumble toward his bed, Steve popped off both of his shoes ━━ almost tripping over one ━━ and worked his fingers through unravelling Sydney's braid. When the back of her knees hit the edge of his mattress, he drew back again to get a good look at her, and grinned unabashedly.

  The plait had made her hair curlier than usual, and it was wild from the Farah Fawcett spray she thickened it with earlier, unruly around her reddened face and longer than it was in August. Healthier. She still felt skinny under his hands ━━ worryingly so. But the stupid grin made up for the hollow cheeks, and the glossy thrill in her eyes almost fooled him into thinking they weren't as sunken. This was the most Sydney she had looked in months. Even back at the lakehouse, she was withdrawn, and receding like waves under the glare of a waning moon. But now, she was unabridged sunlight. She was fucking everything. He wanted to shake her, hard, and make her see it ━━ her vessel wasn't a voodoo doll to inflict the bitter ministrations of her dead mother. Chris had no power over her anymore.

  "You're so beautiful, Nicks," he told her.

  Sydney sucked in a shallow breath. "Oh?"

  "Yeah. You are." Steve's fingers dug a little deeper into her hips. "I want you to know that. You're ━━ you're the prettiest girl, Sydney."

  For once, saying Sydney instead of Nicks made it feel more intimate.

  "Whatever, Harrington..." she laughed awkwardly.

  "Fuck's sake, Nicks, just ━━ just c'mere..."

  Before she could even comprehend how good his voice sounded like that ━━ guttural and desperate ━━ he was lifted her up from the ground, and her legs wrapped around him like it was a primal instinct. Sydney's breath hitched, glancing down at his hooded eyes, pupils blown out so bad they were like twin, black moons, and then further to his lips. Lovesick. Then, he kissed her again. He kissed her ━━ and it wasn't marred by a girlfriend, or the taste of metallic blood, or weak promises. It was rough and real, all teeth and Steve. And, God, he smelt of cedar, aftershave, weed and all the expensive products in his hair. She kissed him back, bruisingly ━━ because there was no wounds to suture, and no Nancy. Just Steve.

  "Fuck. I think I'm falling for you, Nicks," he mumbled against her lips, moving his own to trace her jaw. "You hear me? I'm fucking falling for you. Believe me."

  Sydney's head lolled back, permitting him access to her neck ━━ his mouth attaching itself to the column of her throat to murmur his promises there instead. (Jesus, Sydney hoped he'd keep these ones). "I think I'm starting to believe you..."

  "Yeah?" he laughed hoarsely.

  "God, Steve, you're ━━" Sydney looked down at him, he was already looking up at her. His had just nicked a little hickey over her jugular, and he looked so cocky, face plastered with a shit-eating grin. "You're so pretty."

  Steve frowned. "Just what every man wants to hear."

  Sydney snatched his chin in a firm grasp, narrowing her eyes at his childish pout. "I mean it. Kiss me?"

  With his already pouted lips, he pecked hers again. "I mean it too, Nicks. I'm falling for you ━━ so fucking badly. Like, I'm pretty sure I'd die if you didn't want me. Burst into flames, and shit."

  "Just shut up and kiss me."

  And he did. Again, and again, and again.

Sydney woke up in nothing but her underwear, nestled into the warmth of Steve's bare chest. He had an arm draped over her, and his chin was perched on the top her head. It was an erratic mess of intertwined limbs, and she could feel his fingertips aimlessly waltzing along her spine even in his sleep, and the soft exhale of breaths from his nose tickling at her hair. He was so warm, she could've stayed there forever. She tucked herself closer into the hug of his arms, and he subconsciously tightened his arms. She perched her chin on his shoulder, and sweetly pecked a mole he had there. Her new favourite pass-time could easily be matching up all his moles and freckles like makeshift constellations. He was covered in them. It's nearly what she started to do ━━ fingers tracing an almost perfect replica of Orion's Belt starting on the nape of his neck and ending on his left shoulder-blade, when she absently checked the alarm clock on his bedside table and saw the scarlet glare of 7:45 staring back at her, menacingly.

  "Shit!" Sydney's sudden jolt sent her knee plunging into Steve's groin, and he woke up with a guttural groan. "Shit, sorry, Steve!"

  "Fuck, Nicks, Jesus..." One of his hands went to massage the ache in his groin as the other cradled the back of her head, trying to urge it back into the crook of his neck. "Go back to sleep, m'tired..."

  His voice was raspy. It made Sydney shiver.

  "God, you're ━━ Steve, we have school," she beseeched.

  Steve groaned again, begrudgingly burying his nose into her messy hair. "Nooo, wanna stay here. Who needs school when I've got you?"

  "I have aspirations, Steve," Sydney chastised, trying to pry him off her with palms flush against his toned abdomen. "I wanna go to college, and all that shit ━━"

  "I'll kill 'em if they don't let you. Stay in bed."

  Sydney rolled her eyes. "C'mon, Harrington, I need you to drive, too..."

  He whined in protest. "It's so early."

  "It's nearly 8."

  "Ugh, fine." Steve rolled over onto his back, dragging Sydney with him so she was burrowed into his side. He cracked one eye open and flinched at the cold sunlight streaming through his window. "I hate mornings."

  "Yeah. Whatever, Steve. 'Gotta get up." Sydney mockingly patted his chest, before using his torso as leverage to sit up. The covers fell off her, and she looked down at her costume on the floor ━━ the white muslin pooled by his inside-out jeans looked like liquefied moonlight. She swallowed thickly and glanced back at Steve, who was rubbing at his bleary eyes and muttering unintelligibly to himself. "Steve?"

  "Yeah?" he yawned.

  "I've got no clothes."

  "Huh? Sure you do."

  Sydney nudged his arm. "I mean here."

  "Oh..." Shirtless, he sat up against the headboard and kept on groggily wiping the sleep from his waterline. "Just ━━" yawn, "wear some of mine."

  "Steve."

  "What?"

  "People can't know we're ━━ y'know... whatever we are," Sydney mumbled, fiddling with a loose thread from his duvet.

  He looked a bit hurt. "Fine. OK, yeah... Listen, my mom's probably at her prissy friend's house already having their morning tea catch up with the other trophy wives. How 'bout I find you something of hers?"

  And so he did. After tugging a thin, cashmere sweater over his head and almost cracking his skull open putting on a pair of jeans, Steve went to rummage through his mom's excessive wardrobe. Meanwhile, Sydney hid herself away in his ensuite ━━ the room was clung with a scent that was so distinctly Steve, it made her smile to herself as she foraged through the cabinet above the sink. She found a comb and started to lug it through her knotty hair, grimacing every time the sawtooth brush caught a bad knot, and eventually gave up on making herself look presentable. She'd have to use twice the usual size of conditioner when she showered, and make a mental note to never use Farah Fawcett again ━━ hairspray clearly wasn't as compatible with her as it was with Steve.

  When her eyes caught her own in the mirror, it was nice surprise to not see Chris for once. No fractured, gnarled bones, or embellishing of glass shards. Instead, little bruises marring her skin ━━ on her sternum, just above the curve of her bra, and a blur of yellowing mauve on her hipbone (Steve had tried making an 'S' there, but it just looked like a blotch of violet). She smiled a little at them. She frowned at the way her ribs stuck out, though. A chill fell over as her stomach growled.

  "Hey, uh ━━ I found something!" Steve called out to her.

  Hugging her arms to her almost bare body, Sydney opened the door a slither. "Umm, thanks."

  "It's just..." Steve's eyes wracked over her, and the idiot smirked to himself, side-tracked by whatever he was going to say. He fixed on the lovebite left on the crest of her chest, and swallowed so deeply that his throat bobbed. "You, uh ━━ wow."

  "Shut up," she scowled, snatching the pile of clothes from him. "What were you saying?"

  "It's just some trousers ━━ black, high-waist kinda things... The shirt's mine, if that's OK? None of Mom's things seemed ━━ Jesus, Nicks, you're killing me," he interjected himself, dramatically putting a hand over his chest.

  Sydney rolled her eyes, but she felt herself grinning. She muttered something reprimanding, and closed the door to get ready. Georgia's trousers hung off her. She had to cinch them at the waist with the little belt already hanging through the belt-loops, and have them a bit high on her waist ━━ Georgia was a tall woman, and hade wider hips than Sydney. The shirt (Steve's) was oversized, too. But that was expected. Sydney had kept his green, cashmere sweater from that night, almost a year ago now ━━ she rarely wore it, because it felt wrong, and smelt like him still. But in the weaker moments when she did, it still barely touched her midthigh. This one was soft cotton, and red-and-black plaid. She tucked it into the waistline of the pleated trousers, and pulled the surplus fabric out a bit in a half-hearted attempt to style the mismatched, borrowed clothing.

  She stepped out of the bathroom and found Steve perched on the edge of his mattress, massaging out the hangover migraine with a disgruntled frown.

  "I look ridiculous," Sydney grunted.

  Steve looked over, and smiled. "Nah. You look hot. Y'ready?"

  He said it so nonchalantly, Sydney blushed.

  "Yeah...I'm ready."

  "Oh, by the way ━━" In a blink, he was throwing something aluminium at her, that glinted in the sunlight. Sydney caught it ineptly, and peeled back the foil slightly. It was a bacon sandwich. She stared up at him, brows pinched together, and he gave a shrug. "Mom always makes breakfast before coffee mornings ━━ it's pretty much the only motherly thing she does."

  It's a sad thing to say, but Steve said it so apathetically that it made Sydney's heart throb. She covered the sandwich back up and emptied her throat, not quite knowing how to express her gratitude, or her sympathy ━━ or any of her feelings toward Steve Harrington, really. She just met his pretty, hickory eyes and smiled fondly, before following him out of his room with the sandwich held sacredly to her chest.

  The drive to school was relatively peaceful. He slotted her mixtape into the car's cassette-player, and it was almost bliss. Like the world cut them this little slice of heaven ━━ a November flush, all their favourite songs, his hand absentmindedly on her thigh and one of her arms dangling out the window. A silver lining before what was to come ━━ the violent ends of their violent delights.

  At her behest, Steve parked at the very back of the carpark, tucked in the shade of a tree and away from the prying eyes. He switched the keys in ignition, and Billy Joel came to an abrupt halt. Both of them deflated, and Sydney wished she hadn't forced him out of bed ━━ that she was still in his arms, and pretending that his moles were stars, and it was just them. She stared vacantly at Hawkins High ━━ they were 15 minutes late, and everybody was probably inside, enthusing about last night's party. The thought of having to confront Toby, and eventually Nancy, ate her up with greedy, serrated teeth. It made her feel small.

  Strangely empathetic when it came to Sydney, Steve must've sensed the fading of her spirits, because he tangled his hand with hers and brought it up to his lips, brushing a kiss over her knuckles.

  "Hey, it'll be OK." His eyes were so sincere. He almost fooled her. "How 'bout..." Steve shifted in his chair so he was actually facing her, and looked like he was about to pose a business proposition, "later, you come back to mine and we can watch the entire Star Wars trilogy? We can get some popcorn, and whatever, and ━━ it'll be nice."

  "Are you asking me on a date, Stevie?" Sydney teased.

  Steve huffed out a laugh. "I guess? Unless you say no."

  "It's just... will your mom be home?"

  His lips pursed. "Shit."

  "You could, uhh, you could come over to mine?" she offered, almost shy.

  "Oh?" Steve straightened out. "I thought you didn't want me to meet your old man."

  Sydney shrugged. "Things change."

  "I thought he hated me," he muttered miserably.

  "I mean, he does. But, all ya gotta do is use that pretty boy Harrington charm on him, and you'll win him over."

  She was messing with him. Steve wasn't too gullible to not pick on that. But it still made his stomach somersault and a scarlet to pepper the pores of his cheeks. Pretty boy Harrington charm.

  "OK. OK, yeah. Your place. Your dad. Sounds good."

  Sydney gave him a brusque kiss and told him to wait at least 3 minutes in the car after she left ━━ as to not rouse suspicion. The hallway was already thick with a crowd. Teens chatted animatedly at their lockers ━━ about the party, just as Sydney's suspected. A few girls gave her jealous sneers as she went past, but for once, it wasn't because of Steve, and his lingering looks. The envious whispers of today were about Billy Hargrove. Just hearing his name on the bubblegum-flavoured tongues of splenetic girls made Sydney's guts churn. He had made it seem like she was indebted to him last night. Like he was still expecting something from her. The thought made her queasy.

  But her fears of Billy Hargrove's debt couldn't compare to the caustic sucker-punch of seeing Toby already at her locker. His back faced her ━━ muscles tense against the thin material of his tee ━━ and his stance looked angry. It made Sydney halt. It made Sydney nervous. Toby rarely ever got mad with Sydney. He was all delicacy with her. She didn't know if she could handle rough edges and animosity from one of the few consistent pillars in her life. But she went forward anyway, bracing herself.

  "Uh, hi, Tobes."

  Seeing his face made it more real. Handsome features twisted into a belligerent sneer, and his eyes a bit bloodshot.

  "Hi, Tobes?" he jeered. "Are you being serious, Syd? You didn't call! You didn't say you were leaving! I was going out of my fucking mind, all night ━━"

  "I went home with Steve..." she mumbled, feeling belittled.

  Toby's eyes narrowed. "Yeah. I know. Did you know he just left Nancy there? Wasted out her fucking mind in that bathroom. God! Something could've happened to her, Sydney!"

  "Toby, she ━━" Sydney wet her lips, glancing around at the attention Toby was garnering from a few intrigued eyes, "she ended things with him. Not gently, either."

  "Oh, am I meant to feel sorry for him?"

  Sydney frowned. "No. Just a bit empathetic. He wasn't gonna dote on her all night after she accused him of ━━" she dropped her voice to a whisper, "of killing Barb."

  "Nance was drunk, OK?" Toby said defensively. "She didn't realise what she was saying! She was upset, and didn't even want to go Tina's stupid party. It was Steve who made her go. And it was Steve who left her there!" His sneer got more sour then, curling meanly. "Sounds familiar, doesn't it?"

  "I'm guessing you took Nance home?"

  Toby faltered. "What?"

  Sydney tongued the inside of her cheek and glanced at her gunmetal-grey locker. "I said. I'm guessing you took Nancy home."

  He straightened his posture, pushing back his shoulders defensively. "And so what if I did?"

  "Nothing. It's just ━━ I'm getting a bit sick of the third degree from you and Steve about who I'm doing what with, when the 2 of you are doing the exact same thing," Sydney bit.

  Toby squinted indignantly at her, and opened his mouth to retaliate with something violent, no doubt. But then the bell rang out and Sydney felt the relieved sigh leave her lungs like exhaling a mouthful of smoke. She twisted in her locker combination and snatched out her chemistry textbook, letting Toby's cross protests fall on deaf ears when he slammed in his face and hastened to Kaminsky's class.

  "Hey, we're not done here, Syd!" he shouted after her.

  "No? Well I am."

Sydney hadn't expected to leave Chemistry to find Nancy Wheeler stood gauchely outside of Kaminsky's classroom, cradling a few textbooks to her cableknit sweater and nibbling on a torn piece of flesh on her lips.

  "Nancy!" It came out a bit like a yelp ━━ the pained response to a torturer's ministrations.

  Nancy smiled intrepidly, nails warping against the glossy hardback of a book. "Hey, Syd. Can we talk?"

  God, Sydney could practically feel her pulse thudding against every gauzy wall of her veins. A lump bobbed in her throat ━━ bile intermingling with it, leaving an acrid taste on her dry tongue. She scratched at the nape of her neck, glancing around frantically ━━ hoping Steve would come by and spit out some pathetic excuse like needing to talk to her about homework or something to save her from a confrontation she wasn't anywhere near ready for. Especially after such a malicious, unnerving spat with Toby earlier.

  "Ummm...I'm not sure if ━━"

  "Please?" Nancy tilted her head to the side with a pretty, desperate smile. "I promise, I'm not mad. I just... I want to talk. With you."

  Deflating, Sydney's lips pursed and she angled her head to the fire exit. "Sure, Nance."

  The November air hit her unforgivingly. It knocked all the oxygen out of her (or maybe that was just the anxiety undulating its way through her belly like a poisonous viper). She trudged over the gravel, hugging her arms and feeling an inexplainable comfort to notice Steve's scent clinging to the cotton fibres of the flannel. Wind billowing her hair back, Nancy led them both to the small alleyway separating the gymnasium from the main building of the school. Still apprehensive, Sydney kept her back flush against the brick as Nancy stood uncomfortably in front of her.

  "Soooo..." Sydney whistled, highly strung.

  "Soooo..." said Nancy agreeably.

  Sydney spluttered for something to say, before choosing the only thing she could say, "Nance, I'm sorry."

  Nancy's head shook profusely. "No. You shouldn't be sorry."

  "Oh, but...but I do." Sydney looked down at her cracked nail polish, and the mutilated cuticles around the mosaics. "Have you...uh...spoke to Steve?"

  "Yeah. I have." Nancy inhaled deeply through her nose. "And I still don't think you should be sorry."

  Sydney's guts twisted. Did that mean Steve hadn't told her the truth? About last night, about August, about that November night?

  "Oh," was all Sydney could muster.

  Nancy's nod was frail; unsure. "I always... I think a part of me always knew it was you."

  That sucker-punched the next word out of Sydney: "What?"

  "Yeah," she said, smiling a bit. "You know, almost a year ago ━━ he bumped into you in a...a bathroom... and he asked me about you right after class?" Sydney's eyes stung. They fleeted up immediately to look at Nancy's ━━ expecting hostility, or betrayal; anything other than what she actually found. Some kind of fondness. A sweet amusement. "Yeah. He never shut up about you. I also think he spent the entire night of his party just waiting for you turn up..."

  Sydney's mouth opened and closed with all of the decorum of a goldfish. "He... what?"

  "Then I saw his face after you yelled at him over Jonathan's camera ━━ he looked hurt. Nobody can hurt him like you can, Sydney." Nancy's smile was still nothing but cordial. Maybe a bit bittersweet. "I think I knew when I made you go to the cinemas with him that day ━━ and I definitely knew a few months ago when I was at his house." At Sydney's confused frown, Nancy elaborated, "He kept the tickets, Sydney. For Return of the Jedi? He kept the tickets. He asked me to fetch him a textbook from his room, and I picked up from the desk, and saw tickets. I realised when I saw the date ━━ he kept the tickets from the day he went with you."

  "He kept the tickets," Sydney mumbled, awestruck.

  Nancy laughed, nodding. "He did. He kept the mixtape he made you, too. He'd listen to it every morning he picked me up for school. God, I think I know the lyrics to every single Fleetwood Mac song now." Nancy's laughs got a bit louder, and sounded almost hysterical. "I probably should've realised when he got you the record for Christmas."

  Sydney wavered, stomach tying in knots. "Record?" she asked, blanching. "What record?"

  "What? You mean ━━" Her eyes widened in realisation. "He didn't give it you."

  "Give what, Nance?"

  "It was a copy of Mirage. Fleetwood Mac's new album? It was signed by Lindsey Buckingham and Mick Fleetwood." Nancy was grinning now, and all Sydney could do was gawk. "He looked for it for months. He drove himself crazy over it. He really never gave it to you?"

  Sydney could barely manage to utter a 'no'.

  Nancy frowned. "Oh. Well. Things between me and him ━━ they're over. I think they have been since the beginning. Since Barb. There's too much hurt there ━━ and even if there wasn't... there's you. It's always been you, Syd." She must've noticed that Sydney didn't have the strength to even stammer out a reply, because her smile bloomed a bit and she glanced down at her tattered converse. "I'll leave you to it, then. I just wanted you to know ━━ you'll always be my friend, Sydney." Her lips twitched mischievously, and she twisted up the sleeve of her tweed jacket to reveal the scar on her palm. An identical scar Sydney shared. "Friends who fight monsters together..."

  Heart feeling more full and satiated than it had in months, Sydney traced her thumb along the healed cicatrix on her own hand and sniffled. "Yeah. Friends who fight monsters together."

  The guilt would ebb and wane. And the hunger would come and go. But the only thing that was permanent were scars. Nancy and Sydney shared one ━━ but it was never Steve. It was the haunting of a beast with teeth who took Nancy's best friend. And it was the omnipresent threat of an alternate dimension.

  That's where the ugliness between them ended.

from dani!

recap: steve & syd aren't completely together (but
totally are), georgia harrington is a complex woman, syd & nancy will never fight over steve bc they're better than that, toby & sydney ARE NOT!!! in a good place right now, and matt is about to enter his love arc with anya aka the pretty doctor from hawkins lab who knows about what REALLLYYYY happened to christine. dun dun dunnnnnnnnnnn xx