𝕾𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕾𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 - [𝗦𝘁𝗲𝘃𝗲 𝗛𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘁𝗼𝗻]

𝐱𝐢𝐱. 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘵

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 - cracked it

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 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐎𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐍 be found completely covered in paint and led; oftentimes she'd stay awake so very late that the birds would begin to chirp, and light would begin to flood into her bedroom like a morning alarm... only she'd already be well awake with dark circles residing beneath her eyes.

 Late nights filled with brush strokes or the carving of a line across cream-coloured paper were a common occurrence. Hopper would always shake his head, damp an old cloth and toss it her way, watching with a raised brow as pink paint was rubbed from her cheek, or as pencil led was swiped away from her palms.

 It was easy to get lost within her pictures, to let her mind be filled with something... desirable, rather than the nightmares that always seemed to await her with open arms. She'd paint her family, she'd detail their faces... Eleven's bright grin and crooked teeth, or Hopper's bushy moustache and furrowed brows, sure to catch that minute twinkle in his eyes. She'd capture Steve from moments within her memories; when he'd been so enraptured with the view of Skull Rock that he'd tripped over, or that one time he'd accidentally blown into his milkshake... only to be covered by it moments later.

 It was easier to picture them, the people who brought her ease, rather than willingly descend into darkness.

 But that wasn't to say that Scarlet wasn't grouchy after such long nights.

 In fact, as Scarlet sat upon the back counter whilst Robin served her customers with a fake smile, Scarlet was very grouchy. She had slumped into Scoops Ahoy with eyes narrowed in fatigue... and yet the moment she'd hoisted onto the counter, a sketchbook was whipped out of her backpack and a pencil was clasped firmly within her paint-stained fingers. This time, her digits were coated with a bubblegum blue and a peachy orange; the colour of a setting sky.

 Scarlet peered up from her work; tearing her eyes away from the sketch she'd begun that very morning. The lines were rough like jagged cat scratches but its contents was already as plain as day; Max and Eleven cuddled so very closely, that they might have conjoined within the summer heat.

 Scarlet had tiptoed into Eleven's bedroom that morning, an early greeting on the very tip of her tongue... but she'd fallen silent at the light breaths and snores escaping the girls... the door had soon been closed and she'd left them be.

 Scarlet tore her attention away from the unruly lines depicting Max's bundle of hair and instead focused on Robin. There wasn't even a glimmer of attention within her friend's eyes, her cerulean gaze had hazed over, intent on focusing only on the Russian streaming from the headphones she'd blanketed her ears with.