𝐖𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐍. ˢᵗᵉᵛᵉ ʰᵃʳʳⁱⁿᵍᵗᵒⁿ ¹

007

007. 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘀𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝗯𝗮𝗿𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗳𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝗱
𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗯𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗶𝗼𝘀𝗶𝘁𝘆.

"𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝑨𝑳𝑾𝑨𝒀𝑺 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄?" Lori asked, annoyed.

    Her hands were gripped around the steering wheel, while she tapped one finger against the edge of it impatiently — her chunky rings indenting the leather only slightly. Her eyes were focused on the road ahead, and occasionally they darted to the light grey clouds in which she based her question upon, her mind scattering with unwanted thoughts about the gloominess. It seemed to always be like that— gloomy, dull, and just... grey.

    Dustin was sitting in the passenger seat, with a blue and white cap shoving down his curly head of hair, and his backpack half-open on his lap. He, too, was looking at the road through the front window, but his leg was bobbing up and down against his backpack, and his hands were tangled together at his knees.

    "Yeah, pretty much," he answered, speaking slowly.

    There should've been an awkwardness floating around in the air of the vehicle, or at least an uncomfortable silence or stale mood— because, really, Dustin and Lori didn't know one another all that well, and tight spaces like a car usually don't help mend staleness between two practical strangers. But the only person who was feeling the slightest bit of awkwardness was Dustin, mostly because his mom had made him agree to letting Lori drive him to school, and that automatically would cause a bit of unpleasantness.

    But Lori didn't get awkward. If there was nothing to say, there was always something to think. And thinking is just silent communication.

    The only reason why Dustin felt the smallest pang of awkwardness in his chest was because of the fact that Lori was completely, and absolutely unbothered. Like, she was so casual— with her usual pissed off undertone— and he just didn't know how she did it.

    Maybe there was a hidden platonic connection between the two of them, one of those things where someone meets someone, and there's a hidden click without realization or acknowledgment at all. It's just there from the beginning. Maybe it was because they were simply cousins, and that was supposed to automatically make them friends. Or maybe it was just Lori's weird ability to stand completely untroubled about everything and everyone that made it easy for Dustin to remain calm. There really was no way to explain it.

    The radio was playing softly in the car, spilling through the speakers around them.

    "Hey, so," Lori said, her voice remaining irritated. "Thanks for agreeing to, y'know let me drive you to school— and for not letting my mom badger me, I guess." there was the slightest hint of sincerity in her voice, only a little bit like she always tended to give. "She thinks we're getting along great."

    She turned her head to the side, to glance quickly at Dustin, before looking back to the road and tightening her grip on the steering wheel.

    "Yeah, no problem," Dustin said, casually. He formed his lips into a tight line, looking down at his backpack.

    Maureen had been asleep when Lori had slammed their front door the night prior, but she'd heard the pounding footsteps up the staircase. In the morning, Lori, who was still entirely pissed off about Steve Harrington and her stupid Hawkins curse, had grumbled out of bed to face her mother, dressed in her skirt and business shirt, asking about why she was so horribly angry. The conversation was short, with the mention of the cassette tape and, according to Lori, their need to move to a different neighborhood because the neighbors were shitheads— hence, Steve.