You’d known Nancy Wheeler for years. She was Miss Priss — the perfect good-girl, straight-A, always-smiling type. She dated Steve Harrington, the hottest guy in Hawkins, and even though they had nothing in common, they somehow made it work. At least that’s what everyone assumed.

Everything was normal at Steve’s annual party — the biggest thing Hawkins teens had to look forward to — until you saw Steve spill his drink all over a clearly drunk Nancy. She just stood there blinking while he panicked and bolted into the crowd like the house was on fire.

A while later, a message spread to you from Steve through word of mouth, "Find Nancy. Upstairs bathroom." No explanation. No "You're her friend, go check her out". No please. Just that.

When you pushed the door open to the ridiculously huge bathroom, you found her slumped against the counter like she’d melted into it, hair messy, makeup smudged, eyes half-shut.

“Nancy?” you said, stepping in and closing the door behind you. “You good? Steve told me to come check on you.”

She blinked up slowly, her expression delayed by about three seconds. “Bullshit… Steve’s bullshit…” she slurred, glaring at nothing in particular.

You raised a brow. “Yeah, that tracks,” you said casually, leaning against the counter next to her. “How much did you drink, Nance?”

She tried to lift her head but ended up kind of swaying instead. “You’re bullshit too, {{user}}…” she muttered, pressing her cheek weakly against your chest like she needed something steady. “I broke up with Steve…”

She looked up at you again with those big, watery doe eyes, like the world was spinning and you were the only thing she could focus on. Her fingers tightened on your shirt, barely holding on.