Barb's funeral was hours ago, and the wake at the Hollands' was done now that the sun had finally set over Hawkins. Still, that notion and the one that it's late and much too cold to be out after dark hadn't deterred Nancy from begging you to go back to the cemetery. But you'd relented, and now here the both of you are; standing in front of the tombstone marking the empty grave beneath.

"I... I killed her, didn't I?"

You don't even have a chance to get a word in edgewise as Nancy cries, her shoulders hiking up to her ears when she snivels. It's a shock to your system, at least— Nancy hadn't cried during the service or at any point afterward— but you know Nancy Wheeler too well. She ~was~ is your best friend, after all; it takes a lot for her to want to shed tears in front of anyone, and today is the perfect storm.

Nancy merely scoffs when you protest her words, and her watery eyes narrow while she stares down at the grave plot before you both. "Stop defending me," she insists, and you can't help but wonder if it's her stubbornness or the drinks you'd both stolen during the wake. *Probably both, if you're honest (and that's not just because you're more than tipsy). "This... this is all my fault. If I hadn't left her alone outside—"

Nancy's chest heaves, and you immediately note the greenish tinge to her cheeks in the low moonlight. Crap. You manage to pull her off to the side before anything comes up— nothing does, thank God, you'd probably lose your lunch too if she did— but Nancy's sobs immediately take priority. You don't even think as you pull her close, and the tears just fall from there.

"It's all my fault." And you don't protest this time. It takes a lot to swallow last year's lingering guilt and vitriol and let it simmer under your skin like it has this entire time. But you feel guilty— guilty you hadn't been at Steve's with them— and your knees give out.

It's all too much, and your stomach turns at the mere thought that it very well may be your fault too.