On the way out, Robin exchanged her goodbyes with Carey and then proceeded to check the tape she had in the walkman clipped along her waist. It was a French one she had that she used to practice enunciation more than her listening skills, if anything an amalgamation of both, but with her headphones hanging from her ears, she didn't press play just yet.
She had gotten a little down the quiet street, reasonably empty for the middle of the night, except for Monica leant against a brown sedan that Robin could only assume was her's as Billy stood toweringly close. He rested his hand on the car roof behind her, his head hanging low with this slanted grin twisting on his lips, but it wasn't enough to stop Monica from dropping her head too, trying to block his eye-line.
"Wait a second," she smirks. "You're not falling for me now, are you, California?"
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
Monica clenched each hem of his denim jacket, "Oh my ego loves it because you totally are," and she pounded her fists a little to tease him, his body not rocking once under the pressure. Robin was still some feet away as she walked by, trying not to stare.
"You're real cute."
"Deflection's cuter."
Robin suddenly wished she had tried harder the second she walked into a lamp post, her hand flying to her head. "Shit."
"Are you okay?"
She looked up from the step back she had taken, both pairs of eyes landing on her under the dim lighting.
"Yeah," Robin lies easily. "I'm good. I'm great. Dandy." She picks up her feet, turning so she could still physically bear the couple attention, all the while fleeing the scene seamlessly.
But Monica's concern was unfaltering. "Are you sure?"
Robin started to internally recoil. "Yeah. Was Terminator the right choice?"
"It was, yeah," Monica smiled at the girl slowly drawing away with metres of space already distancing them.
"That's why you should always listen to me," Billy says, tearing Monica's eyes off of Robin who had taken the final step that had retreated her out into the darkness of the night again, with nothing but the glimmering moonlight salvaging her existence. "I'm just too damn good at being right."
Robin turned around entirely, purpose bringing more life to her stride with each foot that moved in front of the other. She looked over her shoulder once, barely able to make out features of either Monica or Billy's silhouettes.
"If I listened to you I'd end up with my head halfway up your ass like the rest of your cult following."
"Oh sweetheart, you're welcome anytime."
"And on that note, goodnight." She angled her body just enough to open the car door, only for Billy to slip his arm down from the roof just enough that the door wouldn't budge.
She rolled her eyes, refusing to turn around when he stepped close enough that his breath would have fanned her neck had her hair not bounced on her shoulders and back. "Let's make it a great one." His voice is low, dangerously amorous and she could have sworn she felt it in the pit of her chest.
Her tongue pushed against the inside of her cheek, and his hands placed themselves on her hips. He turned her around with no element of force, just coercion, and once their bodies were facing one another, she looked up.
"After half the shit you pulled in that theatre, how are you still going?"
"When you look this sexy, how d'you expect me to stop?"
He pressed his lips against hers, coaxing her with his tongue until she parted them, then lifted a hand rested on her hip and hooked it along her jaw. His fingers clawed the back of her neck and her body responded to his hunger in a way it always did. Her head manoeuvred with his and followed the firm rhythm of his heated touch. But once the lasting hand on her right hip, slipped itself south and squeezed, a moan escaped her, and she knew a line had to be drawn somewhere.
She clasped either of his wrists, pulling away with an amiable smile. "Goodnight." The irrefutable finality in her voice was enough to make Billy take a step back, even with the three-hundred yard squint and minor pout of his lips.
"I'll call you."
Monica opened the door, slipping inside her sedan, "Mhm."
Once she fired up the ignition, Joni Mitchell in all of her beautiful disparity charged through her stereo: "Look out the left," the captain said... "Those lights down there, that's where we'll land..." I saw a falling star burn up... above the Las Vegas sands.
She mouthed the lyrics and drummed her fingers against the steering wheel as she pulled out onto the road, cruising away steadily from the blond standing at the curb. Her eyes flickered to the rearview mirror, watching his focus follow her car until he grew bored and decided to pull out the box of cigarettes in his pocket, put one to his lips and light it.
That image of him stood right where she left him sat in her head for a while longer than she liked, a couple turns onto a couple roads. But it wasn't heavy in her head enough for Robin strolling down the side of the street, her hands shoved in her bomber jacket and her lips mouthing emphatically to whatever she was listening to in her headphones, to go missed.
Monica slowed down and pulled over until the car was crawling, allowing herself to reach across the passenger seat and roll down the window. "Hey?"
Nothing came of it, Robin obliviously repeating a phrase in French to herself.
Beeeeep!
Robin jumped a little out of her skin, turning all the while, "Jesus!"
Monica pursed her lips into a smile, raising the palm still holding the top of the steering wheel and allowing herself to press her foot down on the brake.
Robin couldn't hide her surprise but tried nonetheless and lowered her headphones as she approached the window. "Hey."
"It's pretty late to be walking home alone in a town like this," Monica says.
"Oh I always do," Robin says, pausing the tape.
Monica's eyebrows drew together. "You don't have a license?"
"I'm not remotely coordinated enough to drive. I'm pretty sure I could find a way to crash a bumper car."
Monica laughed, and Robin felt an odd sense of pride in being able to work a laugh out of her, no matter how small. "Let me take you home."
"That's okay. The walk's not that much further from here—"
"Get in, whacko," Monica already prepared to change gear, signalling to Robin to just follow suit. Once she closed the door behind her, Monica glanced over. "Where are we headed?"
Robin filled Monica in on the address to which she was familiar because it was less than fifteen minutes away from her own house. It was a wonder neither of them had bumped into each other more frequently.
A silence fell upon them once again, one filled by a melody with gentle lyrics Monica knew every word of: Star bright... Star bright... You've got the lovin' that I like, all right... Turn this crazy bird around... Shouldn't have got on this flight... tonight.
Robin watched as Monica mouthed words of the closing verse and nodded her head to final strums of the vigorous guitar, a tiny curl at the corners of her lips all the while. When Monica caught her staring, she continued to rock her head, only scrunching up her nose this time, and the stereo silenced.
"I knew you were a Joni fan."
Monica's eyes returned to the road, the car picking up again with a song Robin hadn't heard before.
"Really?" she half smiles. "What gave me away?"
"Other than the whole flower power look you're always going for?"
"Always?" Monica steals a glance at Robin. "So you've noticed me before?"
Robin immediately felt caught, and the smug tone in Monica's voice was no help. "I guess. But it's also kind of impossible not to. You practically invented a new tier of popularity by sheerly breathing." Monica only shook her head as if Robin was being ridiculous. "It's true. I honestly half-expected you to be a total douche."
"Who says I'm not? Maybe I just reserve my douchiness."
"Well you weren't a douche to me."
"Because you're cool." Monica said it so easily. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Robin's eyebrows knit, pointing at herself. "Me?"
"Yes, you."
"The me working a cinema job on a Friday night no less?"
"Extremely cool."
"You're insane," Robin says, but she's smiling.
"No, just honest," Monica says, looking over at the brunette with a small smile, too. "Besides I think the French horn's even cooler."
Robin could have sworn Monica was mocking her then with her sneaking looks and wry words, but that wasn't what was at the centre of her mind. "How... I thought you didn't know who I was?"
Monica didn't have to focus too hard on the road. It was empty. They were surrounded by trees and the stench of cow manure. So she didn't. She took her turns between focusing ahead and focusing on Robin. And when she answered her then, her eyes landed on Robin lingeringly. "I didn't," Monica said.
"Then how do you know I play the French horn?"
"Because I've noticed you. Just didn't get a name until now. Or a conversation."
Robin didn't know if it was the music, the glint in Monica's brown eyes as she looked at her or the tight feeling in her stomach that made her say what she did next, but by the time she wondered if it was too forward somehow, it was too late. "Disappointed?"
The corner of Monica's lips pushed into her cheeks, and she pulled her eyes off the road to observe Robin. She scoffed a small laugh and looked ahead again. "Not in the slightest. But you are okay, right?"
"Yeah," Robin's eyebrows drew together. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"I don't know. You're the one walking into streetlights—"
"Oh god," Robin's face fell into her palms.
Monica was already grinning as she continued, "You tell me."
"That was so humiliating," Robin groaned into her hands. She looked up just enough to meet the blonde's eyes, her hands not moving from her face, "Seriously. It's a miracle I'm functioning enough to even talk to you right now."
"It wasn't that bad."
"It was."
"It was not. Besides, between the three of us, if we're running a humiliation contest you have some stiff competition, sweetie."
"What do you mean? Some band geek junior versus the two most talked about people in town. The winnings sound pretty fair and square to me."
Monica only fed into Robin's exaggerating. "In all fairness, it's an extremely small town. And all of that social hierarchy bullshit is exactly that. Bullshit."
"Well, it's bullshit that I have yet another year to deal with."
"But it doesn't amount to anything in the real world."
"Which is exactly why I need to get out of here and I cannot wait until I do," Robin sighs, crossing her arms as she stares ahead, leaning her crown on the headrest tiredly.
Monica looked over at Robin curiously. "Where are you gonna go?"
"Europe."
"Really?"
She seemed lulled in a half-asleep haze. "Uh-huh."
"You got a set destination in mind or are we just going for a backpacking situation?"
"France is the aim of the game," Robin rolled her head against the headrest so she could finally look over again. "I'm actually learning French right now. Well, I know French—kind of. I'm responsive and everything but I wouldn't jump the gun and call myself fluent by any means just yet," she unfolded her arms, taking the tape out of her walkman, "but I like to think I'm getting there. Faster than expected too."
"What is that?" Monica looks over the tape bemusedly.
"A language learning course."
"What? Kids don't listen to music anymore?" Monica took a hand off the wheel to take a look at the tape, gaging either side without taking her eyes off the road for no more than a few seconds at a time.
"I listen to music. I love music. Hello?" Robin points at herself emphatically, "Mrs French horn over here."
"What kind?" Monica hands the tape back over.
"All kinds. I'm more into the heavier stuff though."
"You mean like Zeppelin or Metallica, a bit of Sabbath if you're feeling frisky?"
"Joan Jett's more my speed."
Monica's jaw drops almost instantly. "Are you fucking kidding me? I love Joan Jett."
With the sound of a saxophone playing through the stereo, Robin was surprised. It wasn't like Joan Jett isn't one of the biggest artists in the world right now, but Robin just pinned Monica as a Cyndi Lauper girl. "Seriously?"
"Ob—sessed. Seriously! You know I don't have a single girlfriend that digs her?"
"Boo! That's so shitty." Monica nods. "But then again I don't have a single girlfriend at all and I don't know why I've just admitted that to your face because now that demotes me from cool loser to just a complete and utter loser."
"You'll always be a cool loser in my eyes," Monica smiles sarcastically.
"You have such a way with words." Monica laughs. "What about The Runaways?"
"Like there's a Joan Jett fan on this earth that doesn't listen to The Runaways too."
"I couldn't be sure, you never know these days! It's like how there are Paul McCartney fans that don't listen to The Beatles."
They go on like that for a while, just talking about music: Robin making largely emphatic gestures and Monica wittily poking digs at rambles Robin spewed out every other sentence; agreeing but also scolding one another when they're forced to agree to disagree.
"So your solution is to walk home listening to language learning cassettes?"
"I love the heavy stuff, I do," Robin levels, "but sometimes it gives me the creeps this time of night, at least in Hawkins. You said it yourself, I'm a psycho to want to walk around alone this time of night in a town like this."
"You mean the freak-show town with two cases of missing children?"
"In Hawkins' defence—and to clarify, I am in no way a chauvinist by any means, just pragmatic—" Monica rolls her eyes, smiling. "—Will Byers was found and that was amounted to being a mix up or something with the labs around here, right? And as for Barb, well, what I think happened to Barb is just a theory, but it makes total sense."
"Right," Monica furrowed her eyebrows, feigning all seriousness.
"I think she ran away," Robin states sternly, no trace of humour in her tone or expression.
Monica's lips parted. "What makes you say that?"
"What makes no one else say it, for crying out loud? I already spoke to Mr Hauser, you know the English teacher, who mostly thinks I'm straight jacket crazy—"
Monica rose her eyebrows pointedly. "And he's not correct?"
"Shut up." Robin was entirely sat up, her body facing Monica. "This is Hawkins. The town with zero life, zero culture, five running movies in its local cinema, one of which came out several months ago. And I wouldn't blame Barb for being the first person to run for the hills the first chance she got."
"Did you know her?" Monica says suddenly. She notices Robin's taken aback expression, not having meant to be so abrupt. "I just noticed you keep saying Barb."
"We were friends."
"Oh," Monica frowned, everything in her demeanour switching. "I'm sorry."
"Not friends enough to warrant an apology," Robin's face contorted. "We were really close in the sixth grade but we just... grew apart I guess. And before you tell me we're not the same people we are now that we were years ago, I know that and I agree, but no one knew Barb like I did. And it makes sense! To me."
When the silence lingered, Robin gathered that Monica had internally decided she had driven home a psych-ward patient. She knew she had a motormouth problem, it wasn't a secret, but she needed to really learn when to stop talking because it brought her moments like these.
She opened her mouth to say something, but just let the music between them carry the weight of the lingering wordlessness. It was Fleetwood Mac's "Only Over You": I'm out of my mind... But it's only over you.
Robin tried to keep her eyes ahead, but she couldn't. She couldn't read the look on Monica's side profile. The way she bit the inside of her lip, the way her white-knuckled hands massaged the steering wheel.
"I spoke to her that final day she went missing," Monica finally says. She looks over. "It was at Steve's place. She seemed pretty low, so... maybe you're not far off."
"When you say pretty low..."
"I think she was just a little riled up about Nancy and Steve," Monica shrugs. "She was her only friend, you know, and when you start dating someone they kind of become all-encompassing, don't they?" It sounded like Monica was genuinely asking.
"I guess. I mean, I wouldn't know."
Monica's eyes narrowed at Robin, "You've never dated anybody?"
"Thanks for the lack of judgment."
"I wasn't. Or at least I didn't mean to come across that way. God, could I sound any more condescending?" she laughs almost, shaking her head. "I just..." she took her lower lip between her teeth, glancing at Robin before making a turn at an intersection. "I'm surprised."
"No shit. What's so surprising? I am a junior."
"Yeah," Monica let her wheel spin back into place, "a pretty one."
Robin's eyes widened only slightly.
"Seriously. I would bone you. It's hard to imagine someone hasn't yet."
Robin dropped her focus to the cassette tape in her hands, afraid at what looking at Monica for too long might do to her in that moment. Every part of her body was inflamed, and her heart was hammering in her chest.
"What about..." Robin swallows, "you and your date that wasn't a date?"
"Billy and I are just hanging out," Monica meets Robin's eye in perfect synchrony. She quirked her brow as she looked ahead again. "If you can even call it that. We're both going to college and I'm banking on California and never seeing him again."
"And he's..."
"Too macho for college," she deepened her voice mockingly.
"I'd say he should consider going where the wind takes him but his muscles will probably weigh him down."
Monica laughed harder than she probably should have, only shaking her head as she pulled up in front of Robin's house. She pulled the handbrake, the engine quieting but the music still hugging them both in the space of Monica's car. Somehow when they weren't speaking, the melody made the space feel so much smaller and the world around them so much wider.
People say they know me...
But they don't see...
My heart's your future...
Your future is me...
"So," Monica says. She was finally able to turn and look at Robin properly. No looking ahead, no divided attention. Just Robin. "Did you give Tina's party any more thought?"
Robin's heart had never weighed heavier. "Mhm."
Monica's eyebrow quirked. "And?"
"I need to consider costume options."
Monica felt her lips growing with a smile beyond her control, but she fought it away before it had the opportunity to bring out smile lines in her face. "Well, you'd look hot in a trash bag so it shouldn't be too difficult to decide on something."
When Robin broke, biting down on the smile brightening her face in the darkness of the night, Monica let herself break, too. "Goodnight, Robin."
"Night," Robin said, suddenly chipper. It was almost as though she had forgotten that she would eventually have to leave the car and pretend to not be shattered by the thought of this entire moment ending. "Don't let the bedbugs bite and all that."
Monica squinted. "I'll give it my best shot."
Robin had to breathe a breath of relief before she left the car. She let one leg step out onto the sidewalk, then the other, and shut the door behind her. She made her way up the driveway, cringing immediately. "Why are you such a moron?" she whispered to herself.
And once she made it to the front door, opening it with her key, she turned around to face the car she had yet to hear drive away. Surely enough, Monica was still sat there behind the wheel, patiently waiting. She smiled first, then brought two fingers to her temple and saluted with all faux-seriousness.
Robin breathed a laugh, the embarrassment pent up inside suddenly diminishing. She screwed up her face, too, and two-finger saluted back.
Monica laughed at the sight, and Robin couldn't help but think that whatever was happening, Monica wasn't ready to let go of it just yet either. But she still turned on the ignition and drove away.
Robin stepped inside and shut the door behind her, but as she leant her back against it, afraid she'd fall otherwise, she could still hear the tune of that Fleetwood Mac song.
I'm out of my mind.... But it's only over you.