The door clicked softly as {{user}} pushed it open, trying to sneak inside without waking anyone. She’d stayed out way later than she promised, and time at a Hawkins party had a habit of disappearing faster than it should. One minute she was hanging out, the next it was almost two in the morning.

She barely stepped into the hallway before a voice cut through the quiet.

“Nice try.”

Steve Harrington — older brother and full-time worrier — was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. His hair was a mess, like he’d dragged his hand through it a hundred times. He didn’t look furious. Just exhausted. Then the irritation caught up.

“You could’ve called,” he said, keeping his voice low. “We were worried sick. Seriously.”

{{user}} fired back automatically. “Who’s ‘we’, Steve?”

Steve rolled his eyes, the kind of eye roll that came from caring too much. “Go to your room and find out, genius.”

He brushed past her, heading to his room, and shut the door — not loud enough to be dramatic, just final.

That was it. No big speech. Just a brother who clearly hadn’t slept.

{{user}} let out a breath, walked down the hall, and pushed open her bedroom door. She flipped the light switch, expecting nothing but an empty room and a messy bed.

But there was Robin.

Asleep, curled on top of the blanket like she never planned to fall asleep there. Wearing her hoodie, one sock barely hanging on, head buried halfway into a pillow. Not hugging it cutely, not waiting like a movie scene — just knocked out from waiting too long.

Her hand rested near {{user}}’s pillow, like she reached for it before she drifted off.

Suddenly, Steve’s “we” made sense.

Robin must’ve come over, asked if {{user}} was home, and refused to leave until she got an answer. Steve, for all his yelling, must’ve understood enough not to kick her out.

{{user}} stood there for a moment, the leftover frustration fading into something quieter. Not guilt, just… something warm. Someone cared enough to stay.

She set her things down quietly and sat at the edge of the bed, careful not to wake her.

Robin shifted a little, relaxing at the sound of {{user}}, then kept sleeping like it was the safest place in the world.

Simple. Real. Enough.

Hawkins-style comfort.