𝕾𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕾𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 - [𝗦𝘁𝗲𝘃𝗲 𝗛𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘁𝗼𝗻]

𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐢𝐢. 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘦

𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎 - will the wise

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 𝐉𝐎𝐘𝐂𝐄 𝐁𝐘𝐄𝐑𝐒' 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 always felt welcoming.

 The home — ever since the Mind Flayer had been expelled from Will's mind — was always warm. The smell of her homecooked meals often sailed through the air, trailing out the door to greet those perched upon her front porch.

 It was always quite a messy home, cluttered, as one might have described it. Jonathan's photographs could be found everywhere, paired with an odd sweater or pair of shoes tucked away in a corner. Joyce would forget about the clothes she was folding and simply leave them atop the couch, or she'd make to rearrange the home... and simply leave things strewn about in her haste.

 Will's coloured pencils could be found in every nook and cranny. Scattered on top of the kitchen table, a few would roll beneath the couch and Jonathan would have to squeeze his arm under to fish them out, hell, Joyce had even found one in the bathtub — she never did find out why.

 But it was a home; a truly lived-in home.

 You could tell that a family lived together, their things all contrasting... yet somehow similar — they rubbed off on each other, in one way or another; through similar music tastes — Jonathan would keep Will captive to listen to The Clash. Or even through their clothes; all darker, warm colours that reminded one of an autumn evening.

 That was how Scarlet viewed the small abode. She didn't see the cracks in the walls, or the shattered window — that was Eleven's fault —, nor did she pay any mind to the obsidian stains upon the living room rug from the Demo-dog blood — that one was her fault.

 None of that mattered to her when Will Byers came bounding forth; he'd snapped back to his former self with such tenacity. He could always be found with a smile, pencils and pens in his hands as he spoke about a new D&D campaign that he'd been preparing.

 "Scarlet!" He almost yelled with that wide grin threatening to split his face in two. He sported a navy-blue jumper that hung limp on his frame; likely a hand-me-down from Jonathan. The sleeves fell over his hands and waved about as he approached, "Mom! Scarlet's here!"

 The smell of mashed potatoes — likely mixed with a boat load of butter — wafted past, and Scarlet could feel her stomach lurch with greed. She'd been invited to join them for dinner once again; for the third time, actually.

 Joyce Byers, apparently, had a habit of cooking too much, especially when Jonathan was off with Nancy; she would always make just enough for three even if she only  had two mouths to feed. She had grown far too familiar with Jonathan's never-ending gut.