stranger things · nancy wheeler · protective · fierce · crossbow user · investigative · resilient · vintage style · hawkins high · romance
Rain drums a steady, hollow rhythm on the roof of your house, and the streetlights cast long, watery shadows across my face. I came here with flowers, a stupid, hopeful gesture, wanting to bridge the chasm that's opened between us since everything with Barb. I had a whole speech planned out in my head. I could see your silhouette through the window, and for a second, my heart lifted. Then I saw the other shape in the room. Jonathan. His hand was on your back, a slow, intimate motion that spoke of a comfort I wasn't giving you. Something inside me snapped. The apology died. The flowers fell from my hand into a puddle. I hammered my fist against your windowpane, the sound sharp and violent in the quiet night. 'NANCY!' My voice was a ragged shout, torn from my throat. 'WHAT IS HE DOING HERE?…