They got started.

Nancy decided to be the self-proclaimed storyteller, talking about her and Robin's trip to visit the last remaining Creel family member, how they figured out music is what connects someone back to reality, to provide a route out of Vecna's infestation of the mind. But most importantly, she talks of how he uses trauma to capture you, to convince you to stay as if it's where you belong.

Safe to say, the majority were on board in talking about their feelings so that Vecna didn't have that advantage over them.

Par one: Will Byers.

Will was currently anxiously chewing on his fingernails, making zero eye contact as people took turns in speaking to each other, one-to-one. Max said it would be easier, especially for people who found it difficult. As in difficult to open up, just as she did.

So, that's what happened, and the person in question would choose their most trusted person (Dustin felt quite shame-faced as he chose Steve – whilst Lucas, Mike, Will, they'd be just as good options; Steve was his role model, his best friend. He did feel there wasn't much he would talk about that ignited a subconscious anxiety in him anyway, other than the idea of anyone dying; he was scared, just as anyone, really).

Everyone took different lengths of time. Nancy said people shouldn't rush, since their lives were on the line. They had to be ready, after all.

Will didn't even know who to choose. He didn't want to talk, to crumble. But it was his turn.

Robin nudged him as they were sat on the floor together, waiting for the last pair to finish.

"Are you alright?"

Will looks up in askance, not knowing what to say. They'd exchanged no words until now.

"Um, yeah. Just a headache." He wasn't lying either; his head had been on-and-off pounding. Probably a typical fight or flight response, or something.

"Yeah? Are you nervous?" He quickly pans his eyes to her, panicky.

"It's okay. I am too. I'm, um, choosing Steve, by the way. There're just some things I can't talk about to anyone else. And I mean, he is my closest ally, comrade in arms," she says in a silly voice, chuckling.

Will looks downcast.

"You haven't chosen anyone, have you?"

Will fights tears and nods, hoping no one is listening in on their conversation. Especially Mike. He sees him bopping his head, listening to some of Eddie's songs he'd kindly been lent. People had to find songs they liked and quick. It seemed Mike had. He didn't know Mike and Eddie were even friends until he saw them greet each other. It makes his chest squeeze that little bit tighter.

He never receives that pure look of happiness from Mike anymore.

"Y'know," she drawls out. "You could talk to me?"

"Huh?" Will asks, messing with the ends of his shirt.

"Yeah! Just choose me. I mean, maybe you'd be willing to open up more to a stranger. Sometimes it's just hard, to talk about feelings, to people who know you and could judge you and it'd feel so much worse if they did-," Robin started slowly to look a bit flustered, so Will decided to respond.

"Yeah. Okay, yes. I will. Thanks?"

"No problem-o, kiddo." Robin looked satisfied with herself, and as if she really had to refrain from messing his hair up.

He smiled softly.

Jonathan and Nancy are soon welcomed back and they're holding hands, with Jonathan laughing wetly as if he'd been crying. Will wonders what they were talking about that seemed to have brought them closer together than ever.

The thought vanishes as Nancy asks, "ready, Will?"

Jonathan looks at him worried.

"Yeah," with all his willpower he keeps his head straight, "I choose Robin."

He misses Mike's frown, surprised in a let-down way, although knowing deep-down that he probably didn't deserve to be picked. But he wonders to himself: why Robin?

They're in Eddie's bedroom now. Will looks around and the place looks a little too tidy. Eddie must've done some cleaning up in preparation for everyone's little tête-à-tête.

Robin plonks down on the bed, patting beside her, "or you could just grab that chair. Looks like people have really gone headfirst for therapist roleplay."

He takes the chair, feeling too awkward to sit down so near her. He'd also feel a little weird not facing her properly.

"So, I wonder how they got their conversations flowing. So seamlessly as well if you'd seen everyone's faces once they'd finished. Man, hope it goes that easy for me. And you! Of course, you do have the best therapist all around. Maybe that's a lie. I'm pretty difficult to talk to, which you'd know if you heard from my ex-friends in middle school, yeesh," she chitters.

"No," he starts, and she stops talking, "you're great. I mean, to talk to. You kind of, have this super friendly energy. It's good. You feel safe." He says, surprised with himself because it's a hundred percent true.

"Thanks, Will." Robin says, touched. It felt nice to know she wasn't inherently uncomfortable to be around. It just took time to meet the right sort of people who get you.

"So, anything on your mind?"

Will laughs, "I guess. Yeah, a lot. Honestly, I don't know what to talk about. It feels like there's, I don't know, so many possible things Vecna could bombard me with. How do I know whether to pick the right ones? Contrary to Nancy, we do have a time limit, really."

Robin takes time to digest that, looking thoughtfully. "Maybe you're right, maybe not. I don't think anyone else here is increasing the pace, though. As dear Nancy said, people will take different lengths of time to sort through everything so we shouldn't rush. It's not bad if you take longer." She says, empathetically.

Will hums and looks off. He gets the tingle of anxiety shooting up his spine. What can he even talk about first?

"Well, I guess I had a not outstanding childhood," he gulps, trying to find courage, "my dad, um, Lonnie. He didn't like me, like at all. Tried to put up with me, couldn't. My mom and him, they argued. A lot. It was… hard."

He risks a glance, seeing Robin listening intently. It felt better that she wasn't looking at him, for some reason. She was staring off, as if she was taking in what he was saying, not pitying him with a sad soft stare.

He continues, "he used to call me names. Didn't understand them at first. Not until I got them at school too. Bullies, y'know," he shrugs, "I guess I was an easy target. I've always been quiet. Mike," his eyes widen, not even sure why he said his name.

He clears his throat, "Mike. We were both the same, getting picked on all the time. He was kind of a ray of light." He shouldn't have said that, he thinks, as red blooms in his cheeks.

"It was just nice to have a friend, someone on my team who wasn't just my mom, or Jonathan," he sighs.

"What did they call you?"

He starts, taken aback. Robin looks at him now, lips pursed.

"Oh, um. The usual. Stuff that gets to you. Or I guess it got to me, anyway." He breathes in, "they used to call me gay, along those lines, y'know?" He breathes out, and that was easy right? But his hands feel clammy, and his face is burning with mortification anyway.

He looks up sharply, tries to ascertain Robin's expression. What if, what if she figures him out, just from that?

How can he tell if she's disgusted?

He tries his best to analyse, but she just looks normal, at least to him, maybe even a little curious. But, it was nothing bad.

Still, he can't help but ramble, "it's not like I really was, y'know, it's just that they were saying that 'cause I was a nerd and they didn't like me, and it was just another hurtful thing in their arsenal-,"

"I'll stop you right there, Byers," she seems like she's commiserating slightly with him, and he wonders if she's had to deal with bullies too, before she continues, chewing on her lip, "I, I don't mind. If you are, y'know?"

And shock blooms across his face, and he starts shaking his head, oh God, she knows, she figured him out, and he isn't even being in the slightest subtle, was he?

Robin is watching his face, and she can definitely see him panicking, "it'd be a bit hypocritical of me, anyway, if I wasn't okay with it, that is."

The silence descends like whiplash.

"Wait, what?"

Robin starts to look scared once she computes his reply, as if she'd made a mistake, but she carries on, voice shaking slightly, "I'm just presuming that, that we're the same here. But please, just nod, just nod if you are. 'Cause I'm seriously gonna freak out. Oh fuck. I just thought,"

He reaches over a hand, and grabs one of hers, "Robin, stop. I'm nodding, okay, I'm nodding. Y-You're, really? I mean, also?"

And Robin stares, and she starts to grin wide, "yes, yeah. I am also. I sure am."

They both feel a growing kinship.

Robin's laugh rings out in the bout of silence afterward, completely relieved. "God, for a moment I thought I'd been wrong, and that would've been a totally different mess, for me at least."

She realises that they've gone a little off track, and says, "so, um, do you want to talk about it, being gay in this small midwestern town of Hawkins, Indiana? It's just a riot, isn't it? I mean," and she squeezes his hand, goes a tad more serious, "you know that you're safe to do so, now." And she sends him a sweet smile, eyes crinkling.

His eyes wet, and a bubbling happiness in his gut, he says, "yeah. Yeah, I'd really really like to."