✵

was the first words Ringo Wheeler heard that day.

Blearily, she opened her eyes, immediately shutting them again thereafter as she was forced to acknowledge the pain throbbing through her skull. The blonde let out a low groan, reaching up to clutch her forehead, as if it would ease her agony. Hangovers were definitely not something she'd ever get used to.

"Is that how it's gonna be?" Her mother interrupted her self-loathing, prompting Ringo to flick the blankets away from her face to catch sight of the older woman as she headed towards her vinyl rack. "Lets see... The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust? I hope that's not your favourite."

"Woah, woah! I'm up, I'm up!" Ringo howled, forcing her body into a sitting position and resisting the urge to fall back down as overwhelming nausea overcame her. She was never drinking again.

"Good!" Julia clapped her hands once, turning to leave her room, and her vinyls, alone. "You have five minutes to puke up whatever you have to puke, and then you're meeting me in the kitchen. We need to talk."

Oh no, Ringo thought worriedly, throwing the duvet back and stumbling out of the bed, cringing as she caught sight of herself in the mirror. She was obviously too drunk to remove her make up the night before, something her skin would punish her for in the coming days.

Instead of vomiting as her mother expected, she spent the five free minutes she was granted cleansing the smudged make up away, then tossing her scruffy hair into a ponytail, trying desperately to remember what actually happened the night before.

"Sit down, Ringo," her mother commanded, and she obeyed her without hesitation. Her mother hadn't used such a strict tone with her since her father had passed, and that fact had made her nervous. Especially if the stern set of her jaw and her fierce gaze were anything to go by. Perhaps she didn't want to remember what went down at all.

"I quit my job today," she revealed, causing the younger girl to sputter in shock. "I quit my job because of you."

"W-what do you mean because of me?"

"We're not living like this any more, Ringo. That mess you had gotten yourself into last year, I thought that was your lowest point. But you've been drinking almost every day, and now you're committing vandalism. I don't know what to do with you any more, you're breaking my heart." Her words were like a memory serum injected directly into Ringo's veins, forcing everything to come back from the night in question. The punctured tyres, the vomiting, the attitude she held when speaking with her concerned parent. Shame, regret and guilt washed over her like a wave. It was rather easy to dub it as the biggest regret of her life, thus far.

"Mom..." she began, her voice thick with emotion - and from the hangover. "I'm so sorry. I can't even begin to apologise... please just- let me make it up to you? You didn't need to quit over me! Please, call them back!"

"I won't be calling anyone, Ringo," she answered sternly, cocking an eyebrow. "I've made all the calls I needed to make. I'll be going to the supermarket later to pick up a few empty boxes, and when I return with them, you're going to start packing."

"Packing?" She echoed. Surely her mother wasn't shipping her away again?

"Yes," she confirmed, causing Ringo to visibly deflate. Sure, she was struggling, but her mother needed her. And truth be told, she needed her mother. "Both of us."

Her head snapped up at her mother's final words.

"W-... why? Where are we going?"

"Hawkins."

"To live with Karen and Ted?" She tilted her head in confusion. Surely they couldn't both live in Nancy's room?

"No, we'll be renting a place somewhere. Karen is helping me sort out the details. We'll both be living there, as a fresh start. And I hope to god you take this as a new beginning, Ringo. Because I am at my wit's end with you," her small speech ended with what felt like a threat, or at least, Ringo accepted it as one.

She stayed silent as her muddled mind attempted to process what this would mean for her. Naturally, she'd be spending her senior year at Hawkins - where she would regularly see Jessica, Nancy... and Steve.

While the idea of having a friend who truly cared about her well-being made Ringo want to pack up and hitchhike to Indiana that instant, the image in her mind of Steve Harrington quelled any building excitement. Instead, it filled her with a slight sense of dread.

But the decision wasn't a decision at all. And at that moment, she'd have run to Alaska and back just so her mother wouldn't look so deeply disappointed in her. If a relocation was what it took to gain her forgiveness, she'd have no choice but to pack her things.

✵

Steve Harrington was entrusted with his house alone far too often.

His parents weren't exactly the trusting type, 'blissfully ignorant' was a better descriptive term. His father was a workaholic to a fault, or at least he claimed to be. Steve had his suspicions when the man of the house came home from a business trip to 'Seattle' slightly more tanned, with a wide smile.

Most boys his age would call it a blessing, especially considering his social standing. Anyone else would have dreamed to be able to open up their house for wild parties once a month or so, but Steve had grown to resent the loneliness. He had no siblings, not even a dog to keep him company. And it wasn't like Nancy would have been allowed to stay overnight, her mother would sooner stay with Steve than allow Nancy to.

It was both convenient and rather unsurprising that his house was empty once again just in time for the start of Summer break. Considering it was hopefully Steve's last Summer before heading off for college after senior year, he intended to start it off with a bang.

"Do we need more potato chips?" Nancy asked, as she poured a bag into a bowl in preparation. It was almost nine, and soon enough others would be arriving. Nancy had offered to help Steve set up the house beforehand.

"Nancy, they're here for the beer not for the snacks," he smiled cheekily at her, setting up the tap for the keg he had managed to score from his numerous connections.

The brunette didn't speak again until she had poured a ladle full of punch into her cup. Instantly, her face screwed up in disgust.

"Steve! Did you spike your own punch?" She scolded, lowering the red cup and sticking her tongue out childishly at the aftertaste.

"I only took the punch bowl's virginity, someone had to take one for the team," he shrugged innocently, prompting his girlfriend to roll her eyes at her goofy boyfriend and lift the cup back up to her lips.

The doorbell rang shrilly through the house, causing the corners of his mouth to lift up in a grin of excitement. As he trailed off towards the front door, he slipped the cassette tape he had kept aside for large parties into the slot in his stereo, turning it up loud when the music began to flood through the speakers.

The party was raging on for hours, and with no sigh of stopping any time soon. Loud and heavy beats vibrated the house and surely had become the bane of every nearby neighbours existence.

Steve was the life of the party, as he always was. And while he never strayed too far from Nancy's side, the constant attention from people trying to talk to him had distracted him from how much Nancy had been drinking.

The girl herself hadn't realised she was pushing her limits until the giddiness had simmered down into annoyance and impatience. The slightest of things were getting to her, and she wasn't sure if it was because of the alcohol, her mother's revelation earlier or the fact Pam Holland was practically drooling over Steve.

"Could fill a bucket with that drool," she mumbled angrily into her cup, her rants going unnoticed. "Have something to water the plants with."

As if by chance, she cast a glance around the packed living room, just in time to notice a familiar looking, gangly boy step through the doorway.

Nancy smiled, teetering away from Steve's side with a slight stumble in her step and heading straight for Jonathan, immediately enveloping him in a hug that had caught him totally by surprise.

Sure, he and Nancy were friends. But they were never really physical with their friendship.

"Hiiiii, Jonathan!" She cooed, squeezing him tightly before leaning back and tousling his hair.

"Hey, Nancy," he replied, his expression twisted in surprise at her appearance. She looked good, she always did, but she also looked beyond drunk. He had never seen Nancy get herself into a state like this, and it was beginning to worry him.

"I'm so glad you're here," she huffed out a breath of air, shoving her loose locks of hair behind her ears and flopping down on the couch.

Jonathan awkwardly fidgeted, before dropping to sit next to her, encouraged by the way she patted the couch cushion next to her.

"Are you okay?" He asked out of concern, not failing to see how her lower lip jutted out and her gaze fixed on the carpet, almost in a daze.

"No," she whined, childishly. "Everything's just bullshit, isn't it? Look at all these people partying when Barb is dead. She's dead and still, they don't even care. They never cared about her."

"I-..." Jonathan began, grimacing at the subject choice and Nancy's obvious sadness as he debated with himself on how to be sensitive with this. "They're assholes, yeah? Barb wouldn't want you to care about what they thought."

Nancy lifted her drooping eyes to meet his gaze, forcing her lips into a small smile that looked positively saddening.

"You didn't really know her well, but she was a good friend. Just like youuuu," she babbled, shoving her index finger against his shoulder.

Across the room, Steve Harrington had finally managed to find a loophole out of his conversation with Pam, using Nancy's absence as an excuse to leave a second after he noticed she wasn't by his side.

He turned around, his back to the redhead in the hopes she wouldn't try to restart a conversation, and from there he was able to see where his girlfriend had gotten off to.

On a couch, next to Jonathan that was.

Steve let out a small sigh of relief that she hadn't wandered too far, but that small sliver of satisfaction dropped to paranoia when Jonathan had stood up and offered Nancy his hand to help her up, too.

"What's going on?" Steve blurted out the second he was close enough for them to hear, just as they were getting ready to head off for the front entrance.

"I'm gonna give her a ride home," Jonathan gestured weakly with his thumb over his shoulder, casting his gaze away out of fear for his fellow teenager.

"But your mom said she would come at eleven thirty?" Steve pressed, his eyes fixed on Nancy and ignoring her little friend, who's hand was still wrapped in hers. Something that was beginning to royally piss him off.

"I want to go now," Nancy stammered over her words, forcing him to realise the extent of her intoxication.

"Nancy, can I talk to you? Alone?" He pleaded, placing his hand on her forearm gently and silently begging her with his eyes when her expression appeared as if she was going to say no.

"Fine," Nancy muttered, allowing Steve to lead her over to the corner so they could discuss away from listening ears.

"What's going on with you?" Steve inquired, jumping to the point.

"Oh, what are you talking about?" She rolled her eyes, hurting his feelings slightly although he'd never have admitted that to her.

"You've been acting off for a few days now," he stated, but Nancy chose not to respond, looking at him in boredom.

It's just the alcohol, Steve tried to tell himself. Nancy is a bad drunk. It's not personal.

"Well... acting off with me, not with Jonathan, of course," he regretted it the second the words slipped out, but he wasn't about to take them back.

"This Jonathan thing again?" She whined in a high pitched voice, rubbing her left eye with her fingers. "I told you, we're just friends!"

"And you and I are just dating," he bit back, proceeding to take a deep breath to calm down before he said anything else he'd regret.

"You're a hypocrite, you know that?" She hissed, her increasingly loud voice causing him to dart his eyes around with paranoia.

"What is that supposed to mean?" He hushed, hoping she'd catch the hint to be more quiet.

"You act like everything's all amazing with us, like we're so in love. You get jealous Jonathan to hide the fact that, actually you wanted my cousin more than me," Nancy was spewing the words like vomit, but there was no stopping her now. Her thoughts had been bottled for so long, there's only so much a diary would do.

"Like we're in love?" He whispered, eyebrows furrowed in hurt and confusion. Nancy's expression softened when she realised her choice of words, but almost instantly hardened again when she remembered their discussion.

"You act like you're so innocent here," she scoffed, taking a step forward so they were closer together than before, her face just inches from his and her breath smelling sickly sweet from the punch. "How would you feel if I said that Ringo was coming back?"

His reaction, to her, was confirmation. His expression had morphed from hurt, to surprise, to wonderment. Eyes becoming wide and eyebrows raising, his lips parted and his gaze flicked back and forth between her eyes. If she could hear his heart, she was sure it would have picked up.

"That's what I thought," she mumbled, snapping him from his daze into a shroud of regret and guilt.

He could do nothing but watch as Nancy pushed past him and rejoined Jonathan at the door.

✵

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