Pas de Quatre (фемслэш)

She misses girls, is the thing. Without Barb, without ballet, she doesn’t really have girls in her life anymore. Something twists in her chest when she sees Eleven and Max, leaning into each other’s shoulders and giggling conspiratorially each time she drops Mike off at the new mall. She misses staying up late into the night with Barb tucked into the covers beside her, whispering about everything and nothing at all. She misses girlish teasing, the smack of a pillow against her shoulder when she first told Barb about Steve, the sly grins of the other girls at ballet as they talked about auditions and college applications as they transitioned from barre to floor. She misses the press of Kathy and Claire crowding in on either side of her to share the mirror, the casual intimacy of shared lipstick and the tender way that they would handle each other’s faces when they helped one another with stage makeup.
Or: Nancy was a ballerina, before everything in her world turned Upside Down. Part of her longs to return to it; another part of her recognizes that what she's really longing for is a softer, gentler version of herself.