𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 - hey, dingus!

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 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟓, 𝐇𝐀𝐖𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐒. Every single morning was disgustingly hot; sweat pooled on one's back the moment they peeled themselves from their beds, cheeks seemed perpetually red and the number of damned bees trailing through the sweet breeze of Hawkins was almost terrifying.

 It was pretty much a death sentence to wear anything more than a pair of old shorts and a short-sleeved t-shirt; even that was enough to spur heat to the skin, to feel as though your insides were boiling like a witches brew.

 As the days stretched out and the sun trailed higher... the heat only prospered. The pavement was like lava, the air almost too thick to breathe through. Nobody could be seen without sunglasses perched on their nose — likely to leave an undesirable tan line in their wake.

 The very same people to complain about the heat, to whine like stubborn children unable to get their way... were the very same people who had been longing for the summer months all winter long.

 Scarlet was one of those people.

 She loved winter, truly; especially when the snow began to fall and dust the land with a blanket of frost. It glittered beneath the sun and glimmered beneath the moonlight. She adored slipping on clunky boots and listening as leaves cracked and crunched beneath the soles... but always being cold was tiring — as was peering out the window in the early afternoon only to be greeted with twilight.

 Summer was easy; the option of simply tugging on some old shorts and throwing any old shirt over her head was brilliant. There was no need to plan, to chop and change every detail within one's outfit. A shirt, shorts and sunnies. That's all anybody needed.

 Anybody but Max Mayfield... the very girl who simply wouldn't allow Scarlet to just 'throw on an outfit'. She had actually scoffed at the idea.

 Whilst days full of sun, sweat and suntans were somewhat manageable — even if Scarlet truly had debated throwing herself into the cool and deep depths of Sattler Quarry — the nights were atrocious.

 Sleeping whilst the summer heat clawed at your skin was... gross. It was uncomfortable... and poor Scarlet had been far too overwhelmed with burning heat to even step foot in the loft. The moment she'd broken out in a heavy flood of sweat just by sitting on her bed, had been the very second she'd tugged a thin blanket from her basket, threw it down the ladder, and scurried on after it. The couch had become a very treasured friend, as had Eleven's bed.

 Just an hour ago Scarlet had wrangled her shorts from her legs, her shirt from her body — all while scowling at the less than ideal tan lines that had been branded onto her flesh — and traded them in for one of Hopper's oversized shirts. The hem fell to her knees and the sleeves swamped her biceps.

 It was just an old off-white tee now stained with splatters of colourful paint. That's how Scarlet presently found herself; draped in a shirt situated right before her well-loved easel. The paint seemed to spray from her brushes tonight; each flick and trail of the bristles only made blotches of blue splatter on her cheeks or stain the honey-coloured flooring beneath her toes.

 Looking down, Scarlet sighed at the mess she'd made once more. It seemed as though a night simply couldn't go by without flecks of blue and pink marring its surface. She sniffed, scrunching her nose at the feeling of dried paint clinging to her cheeks as she stared back at the artwork before her.

 She chewed relentlessly on her plump lip. Scarlet had been working tirelessly throughout the past couple of months to wrangle together some semblance of a portfolio for university... or for when she finally mustered up the courage to apply, that is.

 It was a daunting prospect; to leave behind her family and travel to an unknown place with unknown people. Nobody would know her, nor what she'd been through. She'd be seen as an utterly normal girl with paint staining her fingertips. But could she really leave behind all that she'd come to gain?

 The current piece of artwork stationed before her eyes was her least favourite form of art; a self-portrait. Painting her face wasn't hard nor was getting the lines right... the mirror by her side helped with that... it was the emotion she needed to capture, the acrylic eyes that stared back at her.

 The person staring back at her wasn't anything truly spectacular; all Scarlet could see was a drained face. Dark under eyes hung beneath the long, dark lashes. The lips on the canvas were tugged towards the floor, for it was all Scarlet had seen when glancing at her reflection.

 That was easy to grasp, easy to paint.

 She painted a carbon copy of what she saw every single morning; a face that was still recovering from the mistreatment she'd lived through, the pain she'd endured. She was painting a face that still couldn't truly love itself, at least, not yet.

 Self-deprecation, self-loathing... They were hard habits to break.

 The reality was that the face before her should have glowed. It should have shined like a coin beneath the moon, small moles should have scattered over her face like stars within the sky. Deep dimples that captured her happiness should have clung to her round cheeks. There should have been a dusting of red over her cheeks, a glimmer in those deep and dark eyes.

 But even though that was what the mirror truly showed, Scarlet's eyes, mind and heart wouldn't allow her to see it.

 The painting, thus far, held only an outline of her pursed lips, the mere sketch of a plump frown soon to be smeared over with a deep shade of pink. Her hair had been captured in the very way Max had styled it just weeks prior; dark strands of oil-black had been wrangled into a half up and half down style; each obsidian tendril had been drawn with curls, pigtails exploding from high atop the back of her skull.

 Max had claimed it was perfect for summer.

 Finally, Scarlet peered into her own eyes — her best feature, yet her most hated. They were squinting softly, like lines appearing by the sides like trailing vines reaching towards the sunlight. They were accompanied by furrowed brows. Her eyes were the colour of tea without a splash of milk; a warm and inviting shade of brown flooded with dollops of sugary honey. The edges were darker, an outline almost, in the shade of bitter black coffee.

 With each smile, her eyes would grow ever-lighter as though they were a cup of sloshing whiskey left outside to glimmer in the light. Her rage would only force them to cloud over like a storm, the bitter shade of coffee would swarm them until almost black eyes peered outwards.

 That was what others saw within them.

 Scarlet, however, saw the truth lurking behind that honeyed film. She could see through the facade, the shield she had so carefully created; there was a plasticine smile moulded to perfection just to hide away the frowns. The nightmares that glistened behind her eyes, only to be banished with a smug little smile as she muttered out whatever witty comment she could think of.

 Scarlet had been so very enraptured with her looming thoughts spurred by the painting lounging against the easel, that her Indian-red tinted paintbrush clattered to the floor as a yell boomed out, startling her easily. She blinked away the haze that had gathered within her eyes, brushed away the thoughts that continued to knock around her skull, and pinched the paintbrush between her thumb and pointer. A lovely splodge of paint had been left in its wake.

 "Leave the door open three inches!" the very same voice yelled again. Hopper, of course.

 That was his rule throughout the entire home; Eleven could have Mike Wheeler perched upon the edge of her bed whenever she liked... if the door was left cracked open. Though Scarlet knew that if Hopper could have it his way... Mike would be sitting outside the cabin, having to yell through the door just for a speck of conversation.

 An amused breath slipped through Scarlet's lips as she padded closer to the noise. Her bare toes padded across the room, a creak or two echoing out from the old floorboards. She planted her elbow atop the aged railing, her chin resting atop her palms, fingers squishing her cheeks. Her grin never faltered as she peered down at a red-faced Jim Hopper barging into her sister's bedroom — she was sure he'd snap the handle clean off soon enough.

 Mike's voice had an edge to it. It was flooded with utter innocence and Scarlet could almost picture him now; eyes wide staring up through his lashes, pretending to be the epitome of a lovely little boy. Scarlet knew he was anything but.

 He'd grown quickly in the months that had passed by, and his familiar bundle of snark had only grown along with his lanky limbs. He was... disrespectful towards Hopper, in all honesty. There were rules in place, and it wasn't like they were unfair... But Mike was a stickler for breaking any rule his nose could sniff out.

 "What's wrong?" Scarlet faintly heard the boy ask her father, innocence clouding his tone.

 It was as though Hopper had been doused in lava. His skin grew as red as a tomato and Scarlet was sure that if Mike uttered just a single word more, Hopper would implode. She quickly snatched up a pair of shorts, tugged them up her legs — she definitely didn't almost fall over in her haste — and clambered down the ladder, skipping the last three steps with a light thud as she landed on the ground.

 Her fingers plucked up her shoes and she tugged them on with haste, "Hey, Mike! You ready to go?"

 Earlier that same day, Scarlet had been stationed at Nancy Wheeler's kitchen table with a box load of things Nancy had, once again, decided to part with whilst her mother, Karen made a light conversation just as always. Ted Wheeler had been where he always was, on his old recliner while snores echoed around him — Scarlet had thought that perhaps he was actually stuck there, glued to the seat.

 Mike had been vaulting down the stairs, dropping his bag, struggling to slip the heel of his foot inside his shoe. Once again, he had been preparing to make for his bike and trail along to the cabin to spend the entire day with Eleven before he met with Lucas, Will and Max for a movie that Steve would have to sneak them into; Scarlet had offered to take him. Now, to say her relationship with Mike was at odds... was entirely correct, actually.

 Mike Wheeler, as much as he brought Eleven utter happiness, had pushed his friends aside. For every five days spent with Eleven, Lucas, Will and Max would only get a handful of his time.

 While Lucas and Max were perfectly content with the fact, for they had one another, Scarlet had spied with utter ease just how much it had been affecting Will. His D&D campaigns would always get shoved aside, or even cancelled last minute. His calls would never slip through the phone for Mike would always be chattering away to Eleven.

 It had irritated Scarlet to no end; Will had missed so much and he'd been through things that nobody, let alone a child should have. He was trying to recover with his friends... and they just weren't there to help.

 Hopper's face relaxed, if only a little as he pivoted on the spot. His eyes narrowed at the sight of his eldest who was absolutely swamped in his paint-stained shirt she'd managed to steal from the laundry —he wouldn't be getting it back any time soon. Her face had a smile, not the cute little dimpled grin that erupted out of joy... no this one made him almost shiver, "What?"

 Scarlet hummed, a light noise on the tip of her witty little tongue. Her hand waved, "Nothing, nothing... it's just ironic that people call me Red when your face looks like that."

 Hopper could feel the heat radiating from his flushed cheeks, the rage that had built; the protectiveness for Eleven. Still, even if he wanted to scowl at his daughter and the smug look on her face, he couldn't.

 "Just —" Hop cleared his throat, "— Take the menace, and call me from the Wheelers before you come home, got it?"

 "Of course." She trailed closer to him, a swift and chaste kiss planted on his cheek as she stretched as high as she possibly could. Her hand patted the very same cheek, "Try not to combust, Hops."

 He grumbled something beneath his breath, arms folding across his puffed-out chest. He watched through slits as both Eleven and Mike chortled at her comment, their faces brightening. He truly believed that those kids had cast some kind of spell on her; while he found them endlessly irritating, — a term used as affectionately as possible, of course — Scarlet adored them all... Though he knew of her favourites.

 Eleven, of course, held Scarlet's heart high upon puppet strings; but the red-headed girl and Joyce's littlest boy had managed to worm their way into that very same heart.

 "Got everything?" Scarlet uttered, plucking her keys from the little glass bowl by the front door. They jingled in her hold like the chime of a bell, "Because I'm not making any pit stops, you're already late."

 "Yeah, yeah," Mike's eyes rolled skywards, only to fasten shut when her hand clapped the back of his head, "Yes. I have everything."

 He avoided her critical eye and turned his attention to El. His eyes softened, a wide grin on his lips as his lanky arms coiled around her, "See you tomorrow."

 Hopper looked about ready to tear them apart by hand and toss Mike into the middle of the dark road. He, somehow, restrained himself — though Scarlet could see the genuine pain it caused him as his jaw ticked.

 Eleven pulled back with such a wide smile on her face; her toothy grin shined seemingly brighter than the sun beaming down upon them all, dousing Hawkins in a smothering heat. Her cheeks were already pink, "Tomorrow." She affirmed before swiftly leaning into Hopper's side, almost snorting at the protective arm that wound around her.

 Scarlet remained where she was, her fingers still playing with the keys that chimed in her grip, "No, really," She spoke, her voice utterly coy as she seemingly leaned closer, as though ready to whisper a secret to her sister — her voice, however, remained audible to them all, "Make sure he doesn't burst into flames."

 Hopper could only huff at his giggling daughters, cursing the way his lips twitched just ever so slightly at the sound. He should have gotten used to the pair of them ganging up on him, especially after consistently being ambushed by the door whenever he got home later than planned — it was only ever by ten minutes... maybe even fifteen, yet, like clockwork, they'd have folded arms and narrowed eyes ready and waiting for his return like a couple of old crones.

 Scarlet only slung her arm over Mike's shoulder, her hand cupping the back of his head as she pushed him closer to the door. The air outside was far cooler now thanks to the draping clouds twisting in the sky like city smog. The sun had been pushed back, and the moon was already high in the sky, dousing both Scarlet and Mike with a milky glow.

 They scurried to the car, doors slamming shut with haste as Scarlet twisted her key within the ignition. Before she could move, Mike let out a bright and amused bellow, "He looked like he was going to kill me!"

 Scarlet truly wished she could share his same joy; for watching Hopper grow as red as the paint upon her bristles was quite the sight indeed. But she knew that if he continued the way he was — constantly ignoring the rules and pushing Hopper to his absolute limit... there would be consequences.

 "Just —" She sighed, eyes focused on the mirror as she reversed. Her hands were at the wheel, clutching firmly as she finally stooped her gaze to Mike. He sat taller than her now; most of the kids did and it irritated her endlessly, "— Keep the door open, okay?"

 Mike scoffed; in his mind, the girl beside him was somebody to count on whenever Hopper grew angry, he knew she'd always ease the tension and then he'd soon be able to scuttle onwards with El, "Seriously?"

 "Mike." That sugary tone everybody had grown so used to hearing began to fade. Honey became spoiled in seconds, a rotten edge to her voice, "You know I love Eleven, you know I love you —" She could see him avert his eyes, "But the thing is... You're coming into his home, with his daughter... and you're disrespecting the boundaries he's trying to set. Keeping the door cracked open isn't exactly a harsh rule, okay? You're both so young and Hop... Hop just wants to protect Eleven, that's all."

 Mike didn't utter a peep; he merely kept his eyes on the passing trees and shrubbery feeling like a scolded little boy.

 Scarlet could have spoken further, she could have easily drilled it into that silly little head of his. Hell, she could have mentioned the fact that he'd been leaving his friends in the dust whilst he canoodled with Eleven each and every day.

 She could have, but she didn't.

 The biggest pain in the ass that came with Starcourt Mall... was the dastardly parking. You'd think with a parking lot as broad as the eye could see, there would have been at least one little space for Scarlet to slide her car within...

 Both Scarlet and Mike had peered out the windows with narrowed eyes, bypassing each and every space that housed a damn car. They had found just one emptied slot, at the very furthest end of the parking lot.

 The two had hastily unbuckled and hopped out of the car the moment the ignition grumbled to a halt, and with the light nighttime breeze that brushed them by, Scarlet was swiftly reminded that she stuck out like a painfully sore thumb in the midst of so much colour and chaos.

 Teen girls had kaleidoscopic jewellery bunching around their wrists and throats, gleaming gloss dabbed on their lips and neon clothes from head to toe... all while Scarlet perused through the parking lot in her old knitted shorts and a paint-splattered tee.

 Mike had snorted, and Scarlet had truly wished she had tripped his lanky self up.

 Max, Will and Lucas had huffed and puffed the entire time they'd watched Scarlet and Mike scuttle across the road. Their hands waved in the air, urging them on with haste.

 "Sorry sorry," Mike wheezed out in the midst of Lucas and Wills hounding and complaining, "It was my fault, I completely lost track of time."

 Will's brows furrowed, a look entirely missed by his friends, and yet Scarlet had seen it as clear as day. Will knew exactly where Mike had been; with Eleven once more, easily forgetting his friends again.

 She perused forth, acting as though she'd never seen the look of utter heartbreak on Will's face; that was a conversation to have when they were alone. Her arm tugged him inwards, slinging over his shoulder whilst Max bounded forth with no words needed. She dipped, ready for Scarlet's free arm to slump over her shoulders.

 The three proceeded onwards, ignoring Lucas and Mike as they clambered after them, yelling as they went.

 "How are my favourite children?" Scarlet muttered softly, her head dipping between the two as though to ensure Lucas and Mike couldn't hear a peep.

 Max flicked a fiery braid over her shoulder, "You don't have to whisper, we all know that we're your favourites."

 Will, often the boy to reassure, only nodded in affirmation.

 Scarlet knew it to be the truth; she really had tried her absolute hardest to appear as a neutral party... Unlike Steve who had been inches from calling Dustin his little brother at one point or another. But it hadn't worked. There was just something about Max Mayfield that kept Scarlet by her side, ready and willing to be a shoulder to cry on, or an adult to come to.

 As for Will; none of his friends would truly be able to comprehend everything he'd been through... and Whilst Scarlet wouldn't be able to fathom the half of it, she had seen it at its worst. She had been the one to wrench the Mind Flayer away and offer just a piece of solace for those few moments.

 Those kids... they were burdened;  and that wasn't to take away from the other's experiences, of course it wasn't, but the two tucked beneath her arms were... different. Max had known nothing but disappointment, and Will had grown far too comfortable with simply accepting that he'd never be whole again. She wanted the best for them, that was all.

 They were just children who couldn't control the trauma dumped upon their young shoulders; she knew how that felt.

 The lights of the mall beamed like disco lights; each shining down and dousing them in a glimmering limelight. Neon signs were plastered over the walls; they'd always remind Scarlet of her room back in the abandoned warehouse... the one she'd shared with her little misfits. It made her heart ache.

 But those same lights also brought a crystal clear image of two young sailors to the forefront of her mind.

 As they trailed onwards, Mike and Lucas having easily caught up with them, Scarlet could see the kid's eyes dart to and fro. There were food stalls that wafted the sweetest of scents to the most savoury ones. The smell of corn dogs permeated the air entirely, soon followed by the smell of freshly fried churros.

 Clothes stores stole Max's attention; one-pieces with colourful blocks painted upon them, to a variety of neon sunglasses lined in a row.

 There was so much around them, that Scarlet had almost missed the wave Erica Sinclair had sent her way... before she then proceeded to shout as many profanities at her older brother as humanly possible. Scarlet should have scolded her, but all she did was curl her lips inwards to block her laughter from spilling free.

 Erica Sinclair was one hell of a little girl. At just ten years old she already had an attitude to rival... no, absolutely overshadow Max's. The girl would toss comment after comment from those snarky lips of hers, each one accompanied by an unsavoury hand gesture... Especially when Lucas was around.

 Scarlet had been called upon for babysitting duty after Lucas had spoken — or rather, gushed — about her to his adoring parents. They'd called, she'd answered... and within moments she'd been at their front door with a tub of ice cream and a movie.

 Scarlet was pretty sure that she was the only adult that Erica Sinclair... actually respected.

 The sign for Scoops Ahoy soon came into view, and for once, most of the seats were utterly vacant. By the time the evening came around, most customers had already guzzled down their ice cream or taken it with them out of the mall. Sticky tables would quickly be cleared off, M&M's to gumdrops would be swept from the floor and tossed away — Robin always stared after them in a forlorn manner, M&M's were her favourite.

 Robin had her back turned as Scarlet and her gaggle of little teenagers trailed inside. Scarlet felt the familiar pop of an M&M getting squished beneath her shoe. A smile graced her face, dimples immediately carving into her plump cheeks, "Robin!"

 Robin's head whipped around, her chopped hair flowing like a little halo while a grin was already present on her freckled face. She'd know Scarlet's voice anywhere; it was hard to mistake the sweet chime smothered in so much sugar that their ice cream paled in comparison. Robin stuck her hand out and Scarlet hastily strode forth to complete the silly little handshake they'd made one night, all while leaving Steve to struggle and close the store alone.

 The taller teen leaned on the counter, her elbow, unfortunately, landing in a dollop of cherry syrup she'd spilt when she'd drizzled it atop a banana split, "I see you brought your children."

 Mike and his ever-lasting tweenage angst stepped up to the bell left haphazardly upon the counter, "Hilarious." He spoke plainly and slammed his palm again, and again all the while Robin stared at him with bored eyes.

 She sighed, shoulders sinking, "Hey dingus! Your children are here!"

 Scarlet snorted as the small window between the front of the store, and the break room was flung open. Steve Harrington poke his head through. His cheeks were a light pink; having just heaved a new load of ice cream through the store, his cute little uniform had smears of vanilla trailing down the front and his unkempt hair that usually swayed upon his head, was trapped within his sailor hat.

 Scarlet would truly never get tired of seeing him dressed in such a manner; it was very boy scout of him. He'd almost keeled over when she had breezily shared the fact.

 Steve — while a scowl free of any true malice was directed to the cluster of tweens — felt his grin tug higher at their own accord when he trailed his eyes over Scarlet. He almost laughed at the paint splotches staining her — or rather, Hoppers — shirt. She really couldn't go a day without a lick of paint finding some way to cling to her.

 His eyes whipped back to the kids, zoning particularly on Mike, "Again? Seriously?"

 Mike rose a single, slim brow. His stare never faltered as he rose his hand, intent on slamming it upon the bell one last grating time. Scarlet, however, who could still hear the bell knocking around her skull like an old grandfather clock striking twelve, snatched his hand up and tugged him along.

 She moved past the counter and tugged open the door to the break room. The children followed along, bobbing like ducklings in a pond.

 Steve was already waiting for them all; the door that led to the delivery passages behind the store was wide open, a gust of cool air circulating from the vents. It brushed Steve by, jostling the silly little ascot by his neck whilst strands of his sodden brown hair slipped into his eyes.

 He blinked furiously, swiping them away before hurrying the kids along, "Come on, come on, you little shitheads," Will passed him first and Steve could actually make out the grateful smile on the littlest Byers face. Lucas slipped by, bumping Steve's shoulder as a sign of thanks while Mike merely strolled past as though he owned the place.

 Max, however, gave a final parting smile to her most favourite babysitter — one in which Scarlet returned with all enthusiasm — before sliding past Steve, a small grin on her face, "Thanks, Steve."

 She practically sang his name; knowing that Steve Harrington had only let them through for the... what was it now? Sixth time? Just because of his big fat crush on Scarlet... Not that Steve knew that, obviously, but Maxine wouldn't expect him to. It was Steve, after all.

 "Yeah, yeah, whatever," Steve grumbled, eyes sliding to Scarlet as she joined his side, her head poking through the door and into the tunnels.

 Scarlet waved, fingers wiggling as she beamed, "Have fun, losers!"

 "And if anyone hears about this —"

 "— We're dead!" The kids yelled in unison, allowing Steve absolutely no time to curse them out as their eyes all rolled skywards.

 Steve scoffed, his hands planted upon his waist, "I will kill them." He pivoted, head craning down whilst Scarlet only rose a single brow. A disbelieving smile had crawled to her lips.

 There wasn't a single chance that Steve would have said no. No matter whether Max believed he'd let them slip through just to remain within Scarlet's good graces, no matter how many threats he hollered out. Steve Harrington was a babysitter... he was The Babysitter. As if he'd ever tell his children the word 'no' and actually mean it.

 It was only obvious that he cared about them more than any normal babysitter would; whenever he trailed within the cabin, slumping on the couch beside Scarlet, legs just barely brushing... he'd always ask about Will. Maybe because he felt bad for the words he'd spouted when the kid had first gone missing... But even so, Steve always asked, and his brows would always furrow if Scarlet told him anything less than positively beaming news.

 He'd enquire about Max, well, more so Billy. He knew Maxine trusted Scarlet more than most of the people within her life... and he just wanted to make sure that Billy hadn't been... well... Billy.

 He didn't want to hear that there were fingerprints branded around her wrist again, each one deepening to a dark purple as hours passed by; he knew what that was like. To watch somebody who was supposedly family let their anger and festering rage get the better of them.

 "No, you won't," Scarlet said with such sincerity, that Steve actually felt the need to defend himself from that perpetually growing smile.

 "Oh yeah?" He slammed the door shut, bolting it in place. His hands found his hips once more, his silly hat sliding down his head just a little as he peered down at her, "Why's that?"

 Her hand flashed out far too quickly for Steve to so much as react and, before he knew it, the sailor hat that he hated so damn much was clasped within her hands. His hair was an utter mess; strands slick against his head from the summer sweat — you'd think it'd have been at least a tad cooler within an ice cream parlour — whilst others pinged up at attention the moment his hat had been robbed.

 Scarlet positioned it atop her head, dimples scooping into her cheeks. Steve felt his breath leave him just as he so commonly did. But Scarlet scarcely noticed, she merely brushed a strand of two of oil-black hair from her face and began walking backwards, all the while grinning at him, "You love them too much!"

 She offered a final, soft smile that had Steve teetering backwards, leaning against the cold metal door. His fingers found his hair, wading through each boiling strand as a sigh passed through his lips. He only blinked when the door shut behind her, leaving him utterly alone.

 He was a fool. Oh, God, he was a fool.

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08-01-2020

edited version: 17-01-2022

YUP i love this chapter ngl. steve's cute little uniform BYE. robin x scar means so much to me, and her obvious love for will and max has me dead and gone. also yes, scarlet is getting TIRED of angsty mike... just like ME lmao xoxo

peep steve at the end there? god he's such a simp bro.

this is a FRIENDLY reminder to STOP asking me for updates, or when i'll update: listen, i get it if you're excited for this book, so am i, but i'm constantly seeing people TELLING me to update, BEGGING for another chapter... just hours after i posted? I am pumping these chapters out like no tomorrow, guys. i mean, i've only been reposting these edited chapters for just over a month, and there are already thirteen chapters (most of which are longer than 3k), as well as the prologue AND FOUR ONESHOTS. 

do y'all not understand that it takes a long time for me to get these chapters just right, and then edit them too? the worst of it is that it's a bunch of people who show this story LITTLE TO NO SUPPORT or don't even follow me, and then have the gall to ask for an update? 

stop treating authors like this, stop demanding chapters from them, and show just a little bit of compassion and support thank yew. no updates for a while now, because i'm PETTY, el-oh-el x

don't forget to let me know what you think; and remember that i now require a particular number of comments and feedback before i consider releasing the next part (this is just to ensure people remain engaged and supportive, as well as to allow me to see what you all enjoyed most!)

^^ scar is learning from nancy, purr. (this is also me if i get ONE more 'update!!11!' comment <3)