𝕾𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕾𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 - [𝗦𝘁𝗲𝘃𝗲 𝗛𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘁𝗼𝗻]

𝐢𝐢. 𝘳𝘢𝘨-𝘵𝘢𝘨

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎 - rag-tag

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 "𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋, 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐋𝐘 had... One hell of a year." One breathed out, her eyes had risen to her hairline as Eleven spilled everything she knew. From breaking free from the lab, stumbling in the dark woods beneath the moonlight until a group of kids had found her, a young boy by the name of Will Byers going missing, having to defeat a... Demogorgon - whatever that was. Then, of course, Eleven had gone on to explain that while she had truly believed she'd give her life to send the Demogorgon back to hell, she had made it and the policeman had found her.

 Hopper was his name, Jim Hopper. One had watched as the girl glanced away at the mention of his name, her fingers twiddling with one another. She had left him after a screaming match and had gone on her way to find her mother, only to stumble into their cold and damp warehouse with that picture of Kali in hand.

 "I'm impressed," One continued on, seeing the crestfallen look still painted upon Eleven's features. She missed her friends, even Hopper so very dearly, "You saved them all, you saved an entire town."

 Eleven almost flushed, "My friends helped me."

 "Mhm... So..." A coy grin enlightened on One's plump lips and her cheeks rose, causing her dimples to shine once more. She leaned forward, huffing momentarily as her wispy locks of raven hair tickled her neck, "This Mike... Is he a good friend?"

 Throughout the whole retelling of her story, Eleven's doe eyes had sparked and shone with a million twinkling stars whenever she had mentioned the boy; One had found this utterly adorable.

 Now Eleven did flush. A vibrant fushia coloured her cheeks and the very tips of her ears as she fiddled with the blanket One had tossed over her lap, "He's a good friend."

 "I hope I could meet him one day, maybe your other friends too?"

 Eleven perked up, eyes wide as she nodded vigorously, as she did her eyes drifted behind her new sister. There were markings scrawled all over the walls of the room One had led her to. It was a surprisingly clean part of the warehouse, considering everywhere else was damp from droplets of rain that had squeezed through cracks in the roof; there was still trash left behind from previous squatters and abandoned furniture that had already started to rot and fall apart.

 But this room hadn't a speck of dust in sight. There were old neon signs hung on the walls; one a cobalt blue and the other a sparkling pink, it bathed them in a mixture of their colours and a purple sheen had glossed their skin. There was also a smattering of paintings and drawings that had been carefully scribbled atop crumpled pieces of paper and haphazardly stuck to the cold walls. Some were tossed atop a desk, others piling high on a stool tucked away in the corner.