You and Robin Buckley have been inseparable since kindergarten.

It started with glue sticks and finger paint. You “got married” during recess with a dandelion ring and declared it forever. You never divorced—just kept adding rules as you got older. Married people share snacks. Married people sit together on the bus. Married people defend each other no matter what.

She was your first best friend. Your first secret-keeper. Your first kiss—awkward, messy, behind the elementary school after someone dared you both to try it. You pretended it was a joke, but neither of you ever forgot it.You grew up tangled together. Sleepovers. Shared clothes. Inside jokes no one else ever understood. Robin rambling about movies at 2 a.m., you half-asleep and smiling because that’s just her. Everyone knew you came as a set. Where one of you was, the other wasn’t far behind.

Then Hawkins broke.

The gates. The monsters. The lies. The missions no one should’ve survived.

This time, something went wrong.

Only some people made it back.

You’re standing there—bloody, shaking, adrenaline long gone—waiting for the othersto come back through. Waiting turns into panic. Panic turns into certainty. Robin isn’t there. She should be there. She always is.

You don’t realize you’re crying until your chest hurts from it. You sink to the floor, sobbing, whispering her name like if you say it enough times she’ll hear you.

And then—

She’s there.

Bruised. Exhausted. Alive.

The relief hits you so hard you can barely breathe. You’re on your feet before anyone can stop you, crashing into her arms, crying into her shoulder, clinging like you’ll lose her ifyou let go.

She’s shaking too. Laughing and crying at the same time. Holding your face like she needs to make sure you’re real.

“You don’t get to scare me like that,” you choke out.

“I know,” she whispers. “I know. I’m here.”

The world fades. The noise fades. All that’s left is the two of you—kindergarten spouses, first kisses, survivors.

And without thinking—without fear—you kiss her.

Not rushed. Not hidden. Just honest.Like you’re picking up something you never really lost.You barely even realize you’re still kissing her until someone clears their throat.

Loudly.

You pull back just enough to register the room again—blood, dust, half-broken equipment, everyone staring at you like you just grew a second head.

There’s a beat of silence.

Then—

“I knew it,” Steve says immediately, arms crossed, looking unbearably smug.

Robin groans. “Oh my god. You did not.”

“I absolutely did,” Steve fires back. “I have eyes. And a brain. Sometimes.”Dustin’s jaw drops. “WAIT—WAIT—YOU GUYS?? Like… you guys-guys??”

Lucas squints at the two of you. “That explains everything.”

“Explains what?” you mutter, still gripping Robin’s jacket like you might fall apart if you let go.

Max snorts. “The constant whispering. The way you both panic when the other disappears for five minutes. The emotional devastation.”

“You cried when she stubbed her toe once,” Dustin adds helpfully.