Work Text:
Max stood outside the little house just off Willow Avenue.
It was a little rundown, like most houses on this side of town, but there was something quietly charming about it. Narrow flowerbeds ran along the sides, neat but mostly bare, save for a few wild violets and stubborn daffodils pushing through the damp, dark earth. The grass had been clipped short, though patches of brown still showed where frost had burned through.
Max glanced down at the address scribbled on the scrap of paper Robin had given her a few weeks ago at Family Video.
She’d gone in to escape the heat and to get out of her house. Lucas and she had broken up again, and El was away in California, and suddenly there weren’t that many places left where she could exist without someone calling the cops for loitering. She’d hoped to find Steve, someone familiar, easy. Instead, she’d found Robin.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like Robin. She did. She was cool (even if Robin constantly denied she was) and she’d shared a blanket with Max in the ambulance after Starcourt. But Max didn’t really know her. She’d seen her plenty of times at Scoops Ahoy, and she’d even let the Party into the theater once when Steve wasn’t working—after she made them all promise never to mention it in front of him. And she was almost a hundred percent sure Robin and Steve were dating now.
But Robin wasn’t Steve.
Even so, Max had stayed.
Robin hadn’t asked questions or made her feel like she needed an excuse to linger. She’d leaned against the counter, absorbed in a book written in a foreign language, while Max wandered the aisles like she was actually planning to rent something. She was holding The Outsiders when Robin finally spoke.
“Good choice,” she’d said. “I mean, the book’s way better, but it’s a decent adaptation.”
“I’ve never seen it,” Max admitted after a beat, already starting to put it back. She didn’t have the money to rent it, and even if she did she didn’t feel like going home to sit in the dark and watch a movie alone. God, she missed El.
“Wanna watch it together?” Robin asked. Her voice was light, casual, like she wouldn’t be offended if Max said no.
“Now?”
“Sure. It’s not like I’m getting swarmed by customers,” she said, gesturing at the empty store. “Besides, Steve and I take turns picking movies during our shifts. Today was supposed to be his turn, but since he decided sticking his tongue down someone’s throat was more important, you can take his turn. I’m sure you’ve got better taste anyway.”
Max stared at her, dumbfounded.
“I-I thought you and Steve–”
“Were a couple?” Robin finished, amusement creeping into her voice. Max nodded, and Robin laughed, sharp and bright, like Max had just told her the funniest joke ever.
“Eww, no. Dingus and I are just friends. Platonic with a capital P. So… movie?”
By the time Robin’s shift ended, they’d watched The Outsiders, Halloween, and The Exorcist, and eaten at least two bags of M&Ms each. Robin had even shared her lunch—a slightly squished PB&J, some saltine crackers, and an apple with a soft bruise on one side.
“I should head home,” Max said as Robin finished locking up.
“Are you okay getting home alone? I can walk you if you want,” Robin offered.
She’d already done enough. Max didn’t want to burden her more.
“No, it’s fine,” she said quickly. “Uh, thanks. For today.”
Robin beamed. “Anytime. Seriously, between you and me, you make way better company than Steve,” she whispered conspiratorially, and Max couldn’t help but smile.
“And if you ever need anything outside work hours…” Robin scribbled something on a loose piece of paper and held it out. “Here’s my address.”
Max hadn’t taken her up on the offer.
Not until now.
She’d come home from school to find her mother passed out on the couch, the TV playing a stupid TV show, an empty bottle of cheap liquor loose in her hand. The fridge was bare except for condiments and what might have been leftovers from five days ago.
Max stood there for a moment, then sighed.
She could call Steve. He’d probably pick her up, take her out to eat, and not ask questions. He was a good person—regardless of who he’d been before—but he wouldn’t get it. He’d grown up rich, was still rich, and even with a minimum-wage job, he didn’t have to worry about bills being paid on time or whether there’d be food in the fridge tomorrow.
He didn’t know what it was like to be poor.
Granted, Max hadn’t known either. She’d lived a semi-comfortable, middle-class life until her stepdad decided to leave her and her mom in The Middle of Nowhere, Indiana, but this was her life now, and she was so unprepared for it.
So Steve was out. Lucas and Mike too—not that she’d ever seriously considered calling Mike. Dustin might understand the single-mom aspect, but she doubted Claudia Henderson was coming home drunk every night. And even if his family wasn’t as affluent as the Harringtons, Wheelers, or Sinclairs, Dustin was far from poor.
She really missed the Byers. El and Will would probably understand her, and Mrs. Byers would probably know what to do, she’d have a solution for her current predicament, and most importantly: she wouldn’t judge.
She lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling in defeat, until she remembered the small scrap of paper tucked into her drawer.
She left the house before she could talk herself out of it.
She’d seen Robin plenty of times since that day at Family Video, usually with Steve, since they were apparently attached at the hip now. And sure, she didn’t know much about Robin’s home life, but Robin had mentioned being poor once, casually, like it wasn’t a big deal. There had been no shame in her voice—nothing like the heavy, clinging shame Max felt every time she acknowledged her own situation.
Robin had mentioned her mother too. A quick, self-deprecating quip she brushed off like it was nothing.
So yeah, she didn’t know Robin that well, but maybe, just maybe, they had more in common than Max had initially thought.
She leaned her bike against the low porch rail and knocked.
For a moment, nothing happened. The house looked empty, all the windows dark and still. She knocked again, then hesitated, wondering if Robin was at Steve’s or if she’d gone out with someone else.
Just as she turned to leave, the door opened.
Robin stood there in gray sweatpants Max was pretty sure were Steve’s and a hoodie that was definitely his, her hair still damp and curling at the ends. A confused smile spread across her face.
“Hey! I didn’t expect to see you today. Everything okay?”
“Yeah, I—sorry, I just… um—”
“Wanna come in?” Robin said, already stepping aside. “I’m about to make dinner.”
The house was as small inside as it looked from the outside. It felt almost desolate, like it hadn’t been lived in much lately, but Robin’s presence softened it, filled the space with warmth.
“Sorry I didn’t open right away,” Robin said, pulling containers from the fridge. “I was in the shower. Eggs and bacon okay? I’ve also got waffles we can heat up.”
“Yeah, yeah that’s fine, uh do you need help?” Max offered
“Nah. You can sit, though. Water or juice?”
“Water’s fine.”
“So,” Robin said after handing her a glass of water, and turning toward the stove, “what brings you to my humble abode? Not that I don’t enjoy the visit,” she added quickly. “You’re welcome anytime. But if something’s bothering you… I’ve been told I’m as good of a listener as I am a talker.”
Max stared at the counter.
No one other than the school counselor knew about her mom, and even then Max had to be careful not to say the full truth unless she wanted to be taken by protective services.
“Mom got home drunk again,” she finally said, not looking at Robin in case she decided to turn around and face her
But Robin didn’t turn around. She cracked eggs into a bowl, and waited in case she wanted to say anything else.
“I take it this isn’t the first time?”
“Not by a long shot,” Max huffed. “She’s always drunk or working.and I get it, okay? I get that she has to keep the lights on and the water running and pay the rent on our shitty trailer, but some days…” Her voice caught “…I just want my mom back.”
Robin set the pan aside and stepped closer, resting a gentle hand on Max’s shoulder.
“Hey,” she said softly. “It’s okay to want your mom. Hell, even I want mine to comfort me sometimes and I’m almost an adult.”
And maybe it was the honesty behind her words. Maybe it was the deep sadness behind her eyes, a sadness that screamed that she understood, that she, too, was alone and motherless more often than not. Maybe it was the fact that the house was as empty as Steve’s often was. Maybe it was the fact that it was fully dark outside and Robin’s mom still wasn’t home.
Maybe it was the trash can in the corner, overflowing with beer cans and more than one empty bottle of liquor.
Whatever it was, it was enough to break Max’s walls, if only for one night.
She clung to Robin and sobbed. Robin held her, rubbing slow, soothing circles into her back, the gesture so maternal it only made the tears come harder.
“I know it’s not okay now,” Robin whispered, her voice sweet like honey, warming Max’s chest from the inside, “but I promise it will get better, you’ll grow up and you’ll leave this goddamn town behind, and you’ll be okay.”
And the thing was, Max believed her. She trusted that Robin was right, that things would get better for her, if not now then at least later. “And you?” she asked quietly, “Will you be okay too?”
Robin was silent for a moment. Then she said, with quiet certainty, “I’ll be okay too, we’ll both be.”
Max pulled back, wiping her eyes with her sleeve.
“I’m sorry for freaking out on you.”
“Don’t be,” Robin said gently. “I’ll finish making our dinner, there’s a bathroom down the hall if you want to freshen up.”
Max nodded and headed down the hall. She stared at her reflection, her eyes red and her cheeks sporting tear streaks. She looked like she’d been through the ringer, but she also felt lighter, like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders, and maybe the weight wasn’t fully gone, but at least now it felt like there was someone else to help carry the load.
Dinner was a lighter affair, with Robin carrying most of the conversation, mostly telling embarrassing stories of Steve being a dingus or going on tangents about movies and music Max had never heard of, or about stupid teachers and even stupider classmates.
They were almost done putting away the dishes when Max spoke up again.
“Can I stay here tonight?”
Robin didn’t hesitate. “Of course. My room’s the first door on the right. You can borrow some clothes and I think I’ve got a new toothbrush somewhere.”
Robin’s room felt like stepping into her brain. There were books everywhere, some in English but a lot in different languages Max didn’t recognize. Posters decorated almost every inch of the walls. There was a small box overflowing with language and music tapes. Records sitting neatly on a shelf, a record player sitting right on top. Papers with doodles and writing strewn about every which way, as if the ideas came too quickly and Robin couldn’t stop long enough to organize them. It was chaotic and yet there was a strange order to it all.
There were polaroids hanging from strings at the top of her bed—mostly of Steve and her. For a moment, Max wondered why Steve wasn’t dating Robin yet. They were both alike—attentive, and kind, always making sure everyone else was fed and safe—they made sense together.
Dustin appeared in a couple too, and so did Erica. There was one with the four of them eating ice cream, “Scoops Troop” scrawled neatly underneath. There was even one of the entire Party, she recognized it from the farewell party they threw at the Byers house, she hadn’t even realized Robin had taken it. They all looked so happy, even her and El, it was one of the last times she’d ever felt joy.
“Found the toothbrush,” Robin said, holding it up triumphantly and snapping her out of her thoughts.
Robin handed her a toothbrush and let her pick out some clothes. The T-shirt and shorts were baggy but soft, smelling faintly of pine and detergent. They smelled like Robin.
“Right or left?” Robin asked, motioning towards the bed.
“Left.”
Robin left a nightlight on—because she was scared of the dark or because she had noticed Max’s own apprehension–and Max hesitated only a moment before curling into Robin’s arms. Robin didn’t comment on it, she just wrapped herself around her, steady and warm. Her heartbeat lulling her to sleep.
And for the first time in months, Max slept without nightmares.