Foreword : I'm really sorry for the delay in updating this story. I had a huge blockage on this chapter and had a lot of trouble getting past it... I finally managed to overcome it quite suddenly a few days ago, and here's the result! I'm quite pleased with this chapter - even though I had to push myself to finish it - and with my exploration of Robin's character. I hope I've succeeded in portraying her well; I love her character in the series, but it's not the one I feel I master the best. I've never read "Rebel Robin" by Amy Rose Capetta, the book inspired by the series and dedicated to this character, so I hope I'm not too far off when I describe Robin's relationships with her family and acquaintances from the band.

The novel's pitch immediately made me think of the song "Smalltown Boy" by Bronski Beat, hence the title of this chapter... Beautiful song, by the way. For your information, in 1984 when this hit came out, it was probably one of the only songs openly addressing the difficulties of being gay in a small, insular, and "closed-minded" town, and I think the lyrics must necessarily resonate particularly with Robin and Will. I hope you find her believable and that this - belated - continuation will please you. Happy reading :)


1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5

Robin tries to hold back her tears and prevent her heart from beating frantically. She needs to calm down. The whole situation is seriously messed up, and no one needs her to make things worse by getting worked up. She looks at Jonathan; he seems - as usual - on the verge of a nervous breakdown, kneeling on the muddy ground, counting from one to five, trying with focused concentration to perform a strange magic trick of making Will breathe normally. The guy seems to know what he's doing, despite his tired and tense expression. He hesitated for less than a second on what to do after Nancy gave him a brief summary of the events leading to the catastrophe. Jonathan's method, however, doesn't yield immediate results, and the wait seems endless to Robin; she refrains from jumping around and babbling to release some of the anxious energy flowing within her. Fear makes her tremble as much as the cold, and at this point, she's holding back from chattering her teeth.

Will is really going to make it, isn't he?

She told Steve that Will's dad was a bastard. A bastard? The term doesn't seem sufficient; the word doesn't quite cover what she feels about the scumbag right now. All the disgust, anger, and outrage that Will's story made her feel. Perhaps the worst part is knowing that men like Lonnie are far from being an exception in the landscape. That they are among them, bellowing their opinion on what is or isn't normal and brutalizing those who don't fit into their definition of what is normal if given the chance. "Faggot, queer, sissy." There are so many terms like that. All to refer to gays or to mock guys who aren't manly enough. After all, they're just words; she's heard them a thousand times, she herself has sometimes uttered some. Not really to insult someone different, of course. Just to joke. Not the most offensive ones, of course. Just basic things like "don't be a sissy [...] don't act like a pussy." Words that everyone says and laughs about without putting a thought behind them. To avoid standing out or being on the margins.

She hears Jonathan's gentle voice resonating, and it stirs something in her to hear him trying to convince Will that no one is going to hurt him.

"No one's going to hurt you. There's no problem, you're okay. Try to breathe."

She's not in the same situation as Will. Not at all. Her parents are nice hippies, harmless, spending their time on charitable works and vague projects. According to family legend, she was conceived in the back of a van somewhere in Oregon while they were completely stoned: certainly not paragons of virtue who would want Robin to toe the line or give her sermons on the need to be a proper girl. The necessity of being a normal girl... whatever that's supposed to mean.

They're not insulting or violent lunatics. Nothing like Lonnie, then.

Yet, even knowing how tolerant they are and how unlikely they are to reject her, she has never dared to confess her secret to them, never dared to tell them that she likes girls. It has much more to do with her than with them: she's not afraid they'll reject her. Not really. Her parents are far too... open and cool for that. It's not a credible option that they would reject her, and yet something has always held her back. Perhaps a shadow of doubt. And an unspeakable fear of the consequences of admission. As if speaking the words would make the phenomenon real. That confessing it to someone - to anyone, even her parents - would condemn her and permanently label her with an indelible tag on her back.

Forced by fate, she had confessed everything to Steve, sprawled on the floor of public toilets. She hadn't exactly uttered the term; she had danced around it and revealed herself in veiled words, unable to utter the phrase but letting the boy's synapses do the work and connect to reach the only possible conclusion.

"But Tammy Thompson is a girl..."

She still hears the incomprehension in Steve's bewildered voice, high as a kite and with furrowed brows, struggling hard to rearrange his words and make sense of them while fighting the effects of drugs and the residual pain from all the blows he had taken; she remembers the terror gripping her guts as she tried to look him in the eye while the pieces of the puzzle slowly came together in his head. The faint "Oh" that finally escaped his cracked lips and the shocked realization that lit up his bloodied face. The cold, sticky tiles of the bathroom, the bitter taste of vomit in her mouth, her head spinning, her heart pounding as she silently begged Steve not to hate her.

And he hadn't.

Steve Harrington, the high school king, the athlete with the impeccable haircut and the winning smile whose little gang of bullies had tormented the less fortunate outsiders less than two years ago. Steve Harrington, the epitome of the perfect little American playing the bad boy, who scornfully judged the outcasts and would become a completely respectable member of society as soon as he matured a bit; Steve whose parents, narrow-minded notables, had voted for Reagan and went to church every Sunday; Steve who could have Tammy Thompson in his arms with a snap of his fingers with just one flirtatious glance in her direction while Robin was doomed to wallow and sob in her pillows until the end of time. Steve Harrington who was everything she wasn't but who turned out to be different from everything she had expected.

Despite her own prejudices that would have made him - in a normal situation - one of the last people in all of Hawkins to whom she could have dared to reveal her inclinations. He had exceeded all her expectations; recovering from her unilateral crush in seconds and offering her what no one had ever offered her before; what she didn't know she needed before he freely offered it without asking for anything in return: complete and absolute acceptance. Steve was the friend she had never dared to dream of, the big brother she didn't know she needed until he was there, always hanging around her.

Speaking of brothers... Robin feels a sudden unexpected surge of affection for Jonathan Byers as she watches him on the floor trying to comfort Will after he finally regained consciousness while she gets lost in her thoughts. She had never really had anything against the guy. In fact, she didn't know him at all, and apart from the astonishing love rivalry between him and Steve for the heart of the incredible Nancy Wheeler - she has to admit that the girl has little to do with the image of the petty, uninteresting, and stuck-up bourgeois girl she had of her before she got to know her - she wasn't interested in him as a person. Apart from the fact that he unofficially belonged to Hawkins' monster hunting team and that put him in the same boat as her, she knew almost nothing about him. What she knew is that seeing the defeated face of his best friend after the girl he loved threw herself into Jonathan's arms squeezed her throat. Steve was a great guy, he deserved a bit of happiness, and after everything he had done for her, she had to support him through thick and thin.

If she could lather the slope enough to push Nancy into Steve's arms, then a few sarcastic - and apparently undeserved - comments about Jonathan were a small price to pay. She was wrong; Jonathan didn't deserve to be ridiculed, and they all paid the price for her comment a bit too dearly. Especially Will.

Robin didn't expect Will Byers to be a collateral damage of her latest sarcastic remark, nor did she expect what he said before his panic attack to break her heart. She couldn't help but keep an eye on Will since the Byers returned to Hawkins, trying to spot if the rumors about him were just that - rumors - or if there was some truth to them. Robin was quite observant; she didn't miss the painful glances Will threw at Mike Wheeler and Eleven, nor how sad and uncertain he looked when he thought no one was watching. Will was like her: an anomaly. An anomaly with an impossible crush. An anomaly who would definitely become an outcast if he dared to assume who he was and what he wanted in front of the wrong people.

Being suspected of being gay was a dishonorable thing around here. It meant being the subject of the wildest rumors and the most denigrating insults. She remembered perfectly the rumors that circulated when the kid disappeared nearly three years ago... "kidnapped and killed by another faggot." It was worse when he finally reappeared a few days after his funeral: "ran away with a queer and then came back claiming to have gotten lost in the woods." She remembered the distant time when she and Barbara were still friends, before the unbearable - not so unbearable - and perfect Nancy Wheeler attached herself to her and made her disappear into thin air. She remembered perfectly the words she had told her the day they discovered that Professor Hausser lived with another man, "Don't tell anyone. I promised him, if word gets out that he's gay, he could lose his job!"

It had always been bad to be considered gay in a small town like theirs, but now that the "gay cancer" was running rampant throughout the country, being openly gay was considered almost as serious as having communist sympathies... Some of her band friends, who were outsiders and geeks too, had clearly expressed their views on the subject last year: homosexuals had something wrong with them, it was a disease, and AIDS was just the latest symptom. She barely reacted to their remarks. It was bullshit, but it didn't concern her; she wasn't going to draw attention to herself by taking a stand.

It wasn't her problem, and at the time, she just wanted to leave, to escape to New York, Florence, or Paris. To any progressive big city in the world where her condition wouldn't meet with outright disapproval. She hoped she wasn't deluding herself and that these progressive cities really existed elsewhere than in the backward and fatalistic reports describing in detail how the dissolute morals of degenerates from artistic backgrounds were slowly gnawing away at the great European metropolises and cultural capitals. Describing how the degenerates were multiplying and would lead to the gradual decline of society and the collapse of morals. Hallelujah! Bring on the collapse and decline. Robin hoped with all her heart that a place where a "degenerate like her" could live in peace really existed and that it wasn't just a figment of some angry conservative and evangelical politicians' imagination.

Now everything had changed. Her life had taken a turn for the worse since she and the "Scoops Troop" had been kidnapped by Russian soldiers hiding in the depths of a mall erected in honor of capitalism, and she had been confronted with monsters she couldn't have imagined, even in her worst nightmares. And she had no intention of fleeing Hawkins now that she had every reason to do so. Because she had Steve Harrington and a bunch of kids to protect, she couldn't just turn tail and run away while the town was reduced to dust by Creel's curse. She had to stay.

Jonathan had helped Will to his feet, and he was now sobbing in his arms as quietly as possible, as if not to disturb. She could see the burning shame in the boy's eyes when he came to and realized the ripples his panic attack had caused. She barely had time to drop a sarcastic remark in response to Erica's umpteenth pout when the teenager seemed to regain some composure, assertively telling his brother he was well enough to move, even as he trembled all over and seemed to struggle to stay on his feet.

Robin couldn't take her eyes off Will, who wobbled between Nancy and Jonathan, his gait unsteady and his face closed but his eyes full of panic, as the whole group headed towards the Surfer Boy in oppressive silence. She couldn't help but identify with Will at that moment: because she knew what it felt like to feel completely inadequate, completely out of step with what might be expected of her. Too tall, too thin, too clumsy, and - above all - way too out of her depth. She never says the right words at the right time and she rarely manages to behave as she should. Sometimes she feels like she's suffocating, so she babbles and goes off on long, rambling and flamboyant speeches, choosing to wield her irony as a weapon. A poor defense.

They reach the truck and almost everyone gets on board, but just as Robin thinks their endless evening is finally coming to an end, Byers takes Steve into the forest to "talk for a few minutes" and they disappear into the trees. Another dead time. Robin is positively surprised that Erica doesn't explode in rage: it's the never-ending story.

As soon as she settles into the van, Nancy turns the key in the ignition and cranks up the heating to the max. Robin can't feel its effects yet, but she inwardly applauds the lifesaving gesture. She's still freezing, and it must be the same for the others. Especially Will and Nancy, who must have spent thirty minutes kneeling on the icy ground of Hawkins Forest in a pile of soaked leaves.

Happy to take advantage of the Surfer Boy's wide benches, she pulls her long legs in front of her, sinks into the seat, and wraps her arms around her bent legs, trying to ignore the cold dampness of her pants fabric, desperately longing to regain some warmth. Well! It's uncomfortable. No one says a word, not even Erica, who has commandeered the passenger seat upfront when Jonathan announced wanting to talk to Steve, has lapsed into a sulky silence, the melody faintly emanating from the car radio being the only thing saving them from a leaden silence.

She closes her eyes for a moment, letting herself be lulled by Freddy Mercury's voice. The music turned on at the same time as the heating, and the end of Bohemian Rhapsody resonates softly in the cabin. The last notes with operatic airs fade gently, and Mercury's voice fades away, making way for a strange blend of pop and electro. Jimmy Somerville's high-pitched and soaring voice pierces her, making her involuntarily open her eyes. Probably a mixtape Jonathan Byers prepared purposefully for his brother. What's next after this? Culture Club or Bowie? Great timing! She holds back her laughter. Or her tears. She's not sure anymore at this point. Will this damn night ever end? Could this damn song have fallen at a worse time?

She looks at Will, who has his head pressed against the window and his eyes closed, his breathing is almost calm now, but observing the tension in his shoulders, she's convinced he's not sleeping. The lyrics of Smalltown Boy rise in an endless litany, and Robin almost feels like the words are taunting them, uncomfortably etching something unspeakable into the air around them. And suddenly, it's too much for her: the irony of the situation strikes her again without her being able to do anything about it, and a nervous laugh escapes her. Then another. The repressed lesbian and gay of Hawkins, together in a California Pizza Delivery van listening to Bronski Beat urging them to run and flee their shitty little town where they can never be themselves. It's hilarious! So much so that a fit of laughter starts building up inside her uncontrollably, and she feels tears welling up in her eyes. She's the kind of crude and out-of-phase person who laughs at funerals: she did it at her maternal grandfather's funeral for a long time; yet she loved the man. The ridiculous and shameful memory finally makes her lose her composure. She openly chuckles now. She laughs while holding her ribs and trying not to lose her breath.

-Can we know what's gotten into you?

-The wires crossed and she lost her last working neurons?

Nancy's dry voice mixes with Erica's amazed and indignant muttering. The disapproval in both girls' tones only makes her chuckle even more. She struggles to explain herself and regain her composure. In vain. She laughs so much she's unable to finish her sentence.

-I... I'm... really sorry, it's just that…

Robin continues to laugh but gradually manages to regain some composure, wiping the tears from the corners of her eyes, trying to focus on Will who is staring at her with furrowed brows, looking worried. She tries to cling to the memory of the "episode" the kid just went through to get out of her unwarranted laughter. Somerville continues in the background, encouraging them to run, his voice becoming increasingly desperate as the pitch becomes almost shrill. Her lips move before she can think, and her question is perfectly understandable between two painful and uncontrollable laughs.

"Sorry... I... Your brother is a really subtle guy, isn't he?"

A new wave of laughter shakes her. Will looks at her with such complete shock that she wonders if he's going to have another panic attack. He stammers as he replies, and his hands tremble as he wraps his arms around himself as if to defend himself. And damn it, of all the nonsense she could have said... His father put him in a closet; now it's her forcing him out of it.

"I... I... don't understand what you're talking about."

His eyes are almost wide with terror, and he has the expression of a hunted animal about to be put to death. Strangely, it's enough to dissipate the last traces of the incongruous amusement that had taken hold of her.

"Robin! What the hell are you playing at, damn it?!"

She barely registers Nancy's curse and outraged tone; all she knows is that the girl turned off the music before it ended and is halfway out of her seat in the front to lean towards them and glare at her furiously. She can't bring herself to care about Nancy's obvious anger; she's drawn in by Will Byers' frightened eyes. There's no escape anymore. Maybe because it's the end of the song, maybe because she's a girl from a small town who has wanted to run away since she was twelve and is facing a kid who has probably wanted to escape for almost as long. The words flow naturally out of her mouth without her being able to stop them.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I just said and I'm sorry for what I said about your brother earlier. Listen, I don't know anything about him, and you were right, it wasn't up to me to judge him. And I have no right to presume anything about you. I don't know you, and I don't think you know me either. I'm just..."

She breathes heavily. It's not easy. This time, she doesn't even have Russian-cooked drugs to make the situation less scary and loosen her tongue. She'd rather run away anywhere or bury herself in the deepest hole possible than admit to being the "token lesbian" of the small town of Hawkins. Normalcy, she had tried for a long time and it slipped through her fingers, but that doesn't mean she wants to be permanently labeled as the most astonishing sideshow in the area. Being gay is a humiliating thing that is constantly ridiculed; being a lesbian seems, in a way, even more absurd... no one ever talks about it, as if it doesn't exist at all. Beyond a few lewd comments about "girls kissing," it doesn't interest anyone, has no tangible existence. It's not even worthy of a joke or an insult: the worst of all anomalies, the one that is met with indifference.

She has no desire to do this in front of Nancy Wheeler and Erica Sinclair, but she feels like there's nowhere left to hide, and she's tired of trying anyway. Ever since she revealed it to Steve, it's as if she can't control her mouth anymore, and her secret oozes from every pore of her skin. As if a sign was flashing above her head, just waiting for someone to understand the obvious information and spread it throughout the town. And maybe, in the end, she doesn't care: there's a massive exodus of people since Vecna opened rifts everywhere in Hawkins. What does it matter who she loves or not? What does it matter when they're all probably going to die? She just half-outed the kid because she can't control her tongue, so she owes him at least that. She tries a weak smile and takes the plunge. If she can face interdimensional monsters, she can do this for Will Byers.

"You know, the song that just played, it resonates with me. It resonates with me so much that it's almost painful. That's why I couldn't help but laugh, you see, because I have this ridiculous feeling that it was written for me. I'm just a smalltown girlwho has always wanted to run away. I wanted to run away since I was a kid because I felt like I was just a huge mistake of nature. I wanted to run far away from Hawkins and never come back because, in this town, I thought no one could ever accept and love me for who I am. Because I'm different and being different... well, it sucks. It sucks everywhere, but in a small town like ours, it's even less acceptable. Even less bearable. But you know what? I was wrong."

Will is pale as death and he looks at her uncertainly now, as if he can't quite believe what she just did more than insinuate. Oh, damn the innuendos and subtleties! As always, it's a long rambling monologue that comes out of her mouth. Where is Steve to stop her as she rambles on in all directions? She's probably going to make a fool of herself in front of her self-imposed audience and drag Will down with her. She feels Nancy's eyes piercing her back and hears Erica's muffled exclamation, but she can't turn away from Will to look at the other girls and see their expressions. Do they disapprove? Are they going to despise her and avoid her from now on? She'd like to stop there, but she's already said too much. So, she might as well go all the way. She has to do this for Will. She has to show him that it's possible to embrace who you are without falling apart, that it's not as serious and terrible as conservative politicians and preachers make it out to be. Not as abominable and dishonorable as Lonnie Byers and other backward people say.

"You know, under normal circumstances, I don't think I could have ever told the truth about the kind of person I am to anyone in Hawkins. It's this messed-up situation that has turned the world upside down and made me confess the kind of girl I am at a time when... well, I don't know what I was thinking that day! One could assume that going from being an ice cream seller to being held hostage in a government conspiracy, kidnapped and drugged by evil Russian soldiers in just a few hours didn't give me very clear ideas. It pushed me to confide in good old Harrington. And, you know what Will? I'm glad I did. Steve accepted me without any judgment. It lifted a weight off my shoulders that I didn't even know I had. I didn't know how much I needed someone to do that before he... before he showed me that it didn't change anything about what he thought of me. How he didn't care that I was different. I have Steve on my side. And you see, sometimes just one person is enough to make a difference: I am who I am, and it doesn't matter if it's not considered normal, because anyway, I don't care about what's normal anymore, and I don't want to run away anymore. Because it doesn't matter that I'm a girl who likes girls! Being a lesbian doesn't change anything about my personality, and in an ideal world, no one should care or think less of me because of it !

There, it's done. The words she has always forbidden herself to speak aloud, she has just shouted them almost in a rotten van in front of a twelve-year-old kid she adores, one of her few friends - whom she made last month - and Will Byers. A somewhat theatrical outburst; she wonders if she could have handled it differently. Maybe she could have just claimed to "love boobs" and asserted emphatically that there was nothing wrong with it, no more than being queer. Seriously. Will's expression is indefinable; he seems both fascinated and completely shocked, his mouth slightly open and his eyes shining. He stares at her as if she were the very first human being he's ever met.

Robin hesitates about what to say next, but something in the boy's eyes pushes her to continue. She just hopes she won't make a major blunder. Her mother told her hundreds of times to think before speaking, but no matter how much her brain churns, her tongue always has a head start and she creates one diplomatic incident after another when she lets herself go and speaks out of turn.

"I have Steve, and I'm glad you had Jonathan, because everyone should have someone there for them. And I'm not suggesting anything about you. I'm not saying we're the same or that we're alike. I don't know much about you, but deep down, I don't think it matters for what I want to tell you next. What your father told you, everything he did to you, it was completely wrong... everything other backward people in Hawkins say about homosexuals, it's completely wrong too. No matter who is homosexual or not, it doesn't change the fact that all of that is bullshit. And I'm glad Jonathan was there for you, but I'm sorry he apparently was the only one who could protect you. And most of all, I'm sorry he even needed to protect you in the first place. The world shouldn't work like that. You shouldn't have had to hear such horrors from your own father when you were just a kid. Saying someone isn't a real man because they don't like manly hobbies or pounding their fist on the table is pathetic! Those who say such stupid things just prove that they're a few cards short of a full deck, and they deserve nothing more than to be ignored. In a bumfuck town like ours, sometimes you can feel like you're all alone and surrounded by assholes, but it's an illusion; it's not because the assholes shout louder or are numerous that they're right. And even in a bumfuck town like ours, there are good people, so maybe it's not so bad to be different. And, you know, this time we're going through, I think it's just a phase: the world is changing, minds too; one day I sincerely believe that girls like me and boys like Jimmy Somerville won't have to leave their hometown to be themselves and have the right to love whoever they want. So, I just wanted to let you know that... I know we've never really talked, but with all the upside-down world mess and everything else, I consider us all on the same team, and I should have remembered that when I pretended that your brother wasn't a reliable guy. Anyway, we're on the same team, so if you ever want to talk, I'm here. I know I don't seem like it when I babble like this and go off in all directions, but when I want to, I can just shut up and listen. Actually, I'll do that now. Shut up, I mean."

Will looks at her as if a second head had just sprouted from her, and she can barely hold back a nervous laugh; after a few moments of hesitation, he finally gives her a strange smile and shrugs with a disenchanted air, his tone rather amused when he speaks up.

"I didn't think it was possible for someone to talk so much without taking a breath. I think you've spoken more words in five minutes than I do in a week."

Quite the humor, perfect. Robin sighs with relief; her logorrhea hasn't caused any visible damage, and she hasn't triggered a new drama. The kid doesn't seem to resent her for exposing him more or less. She dares to glance towards the front of the van and catches Nancy's icy blue eyes on her, the girl's expression is meditative. Meditative, not disgusted or annoyed: she takes it as a victory. She must smile despite herself because she sees Nancy's lips twist slightly in response, and Steve's eternal crush offers her the slightest of smiles and a nod. Robin can't see Erica, but she can't miss the disdainful snort from her favorite brat. She feels her stomach twist uncomfortably, two out of three, it's not so bad. Statistically, it's more of a success, but... she doesn't want little Sinclair to hate her. The kid is a real pain, but they've risked their lives together. Several times. She's not sure she can bear her contempt.

"Five minutes? Are you kidding, Will? Robin's been babbling for at least ten minutes! By the way, we wonder what your brother and Harrington are doing. Jonathan said it would take a few minutes, but we've been waiting for a good fifteen!"

Erica might not be offended by her revelations after all; she seems pretty much herself. And she's right about the passing time: what could Steve and Byers possibly be discussing for more than a dozen minutes? As far as she knows, they avoid each other like the plague and never exchange more than a few monosyllables. Curious. Even alarming.

She moves and presses against the left window, trying to make out something through the glass despite the darkness. No use.

Suddenly the music rings out again in the cabin; "Smalltown Boy" is over; "Fame" by Bowie plays joyfully.

Don't laugh. Don't laugh.

Robin valiantly resists, even though she feels the corners of her mouth irresistibly stretch. She suddenly hears a muffled laugh to her right and quickly turns her head. Will is shaking with an almost silent laugh, his expression more genuinely joyful than Robin has ever seen. He looks up at her, and his eyes shine with a strange gleam. He moves closer to her and leans in to grasp her right hand and squeeze it. When he opens his mouth, his murmur is so low it's almost inaudible, but Robin doesn't miss a word.

"Hey... for everything you said, thank you. By the way, you're right, Jonathan is really nice and cleaver, but… I guess, he's not a subtle man."

She squeezes his hand back. To hell with Steve and Jonathan, they can spend the night in the forest if they want. Ultimately, it's not such a bad night if the « smalltown kids » can find each other there.


Notes:

The various additional pieces of information about Robin come from the novel "Rebel Robin": the fact that she wants to flee Hawkins for a big metropolis, that her band friends make derogatory comments about homosexuals in '84 during the peak of the AIDS epidemic, that she and Barbara Holland were childhood friends and learned about Professor Hausser's homosexuality, etc... are references to this book.

Mercury, Somerville, Bowie, and Marc Bolan (the leader of the T-Rex group) were considered icons of the gay community in the 80s. I could have chosen Boy George instead of Bolan (much more famous), but I couldn't really imagine the 'elitist' Jonathan Byers including Culture Club on a mixtape... even out of love for Will ;)

For this chapter, I found myself constrained by my own assumptions: I really wanted to write a discussion between Robin and Will, but I didn't want to skip ahead in time (to avoid disrupting the timeline established since the beginning of the fic), which meant that their discussion could only take place in the presence of Nancy and Erica... which obviously posed a problem. I tried to come up with ways for Robin's words to Will not to be considered a straightforward "outing," I hope I didn't handle it too badly and that my solution convinced you. The next chapter shouldn't take too long to arrive, as the character of Jonathan inspires me a lot. I can't promise anything, but I hope to be able to edit during the Easter holidays ^^

P.S.: A special thanks to Random_ahh_person (AO3), whose comment inspired me to continue this story. It's their lovely message that gave me a bit of momentum and pushed me to overcome my "writer's block" for this chapter.