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Chapter Nine ♰ Sucker Punch!
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He called her Nicks. That's all Sydney could think about all night. Steve called her Nicks. A nickname—affectionate and meaningful and just his. He said it like it really did mean something to him. Like it held a certain kind of weight. It's all Sydney ever wanted to hear him say. Nicks, Nicks, Nicks. She had tried to think about more pressing matters—like the Demogorgon, and Eleven, and how suspicious Matt was being. That's not what she did, though. She'd peel back a layer, the skin of a clementine almost, and there'd just Steve calling her Nicks. Nicks, Nicks, Nicks.
It bled it one of those nights of Sydney not realising how little sleep she actually got until she woke up from an hour of it, to sunlight splintering through a crack in her drapes and her room stretched open by it. She was disorientated as she stumbled into the kitchen—Matt where he usually was, labouring over the stove and swaying to Roy Orbison's You Got It as he cracked open an egg into the frying pan.
"Hey, kiddo," he greeted. Sydney grunted in reply, burying her head in her hands and feeling like she had the world's worst hangover ever. "You got home late last night...what did you and Toby get up to?"
A small creature kicked at her stomach. Toby. Matt assumed she was out with Toby. Not Steve. She hadn't even thought about Toby all night—she considered how he might've felt to see her get into Steve's car and drive off. Sydney insides stirred.
"Uh, Steve, actually," she mumbled.
Matt's shoes screeched against the linoleum floor as he turned round to face her. "Steve? Who's Steve?"
"You know...Steve."
"I absolutely don't know Steve," retorted Matt. "Who is he?"
"He's just some guy, Matt, s'all," Sydney said disgruntledly, grabbing the carton of orange juice in front of her and pouring an ample glass.
