𝐷𝑜𝑝𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒, 𝑆𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑛, 𝑂𝑥𝑦𝑡𝑜𝑐𝑖𝑛- 𝑅𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒

𝐹𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑦 𝑠𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛- 𝑃𝑒𝑟ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑠 𝑎 𝑏𝑜𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑

A few days later, the normal routine had been resumed. It was an expected warm day; breeze lacking and heat rising by the minute.

"The break'll be over soon enough." Steve mentioned as a thought to the passengers in the back seat of his car. "You guys got anything planned for the rest of it?"

The two best friends had been instructed to drive Will and Eleven back to their forest-planted cabin after spending their time round at Dustin's. They'd been recruited earlier in the day to gather at the location, and since the journey was a fair few steps away from the base, the local taxi service had been called again. However, as much as they rallied against it, Robin and Steve never really minded the business.

Buckley glanced into the wing-mirror, catching eye on a confused girl turning to her sibling. She opened her mouth in question before turning back to the front and shaking her head.

"I don't... think so?" She murmured, shrugging her shoulders and peering over to the questioner. Steve nodded slowly in reply, tapping the steering wheel as he cruised down the road.

The woman in the passenger seat beside him blew out a breath, angling herself towards the back of the car and tilting her question towards the opposing.

"You played anymore D&D?"

Will blinked at the mention. He seemed to still be sour about the tragedy.

"Uh, no."

"You've talked about what happened with them?"

He yet again stayed quiet.
"No, and I'd rather not... it would cause too much trouble."

Looking down, Byers looped his sleeve fabric around his fingers. He was wearing his classic flannel- a core Will item- and a pair of plain jeans.

"Yeah, I understand that." Robin smiled, turning towards the front again but still angling her questions towards the back. "What do you guys even do all day- since you used to play that game, like, all the time, right?"

As the continued question drew to a close, not one answer sprouted, but two. At exactly the same time, Robin heard one voice that said 'yeah, we did', and another that said 'he makes paintings for the girls that he likes.'

Or at least that's what she thought it had said.
A pause. A moment.

"He what?"

"He makes paintings-"

"El-"

"-for the girls..." she shifted her eyes from Robin, to Will, back to Robin, "that he likes."

The mirror reflected a message that Buckley had seen before. At least perhaps it was similar- but then again, perhaps not.

Steve grinned from his seat, basking in the familiarity. It was common knowledge that the boy was nothing but a professional painter by that point.

However, Will hushed, staring daggers into his lap and continuing to nod his head. Eleven looked proud of her reveal, proud of her sibling for finally making moves in the right direction... but still the sadness ensued.

Robin carefully bit the inside of her cheek, furrowing her eyebrows as if it'd help her to read the boy behind.
"And how do they like them, Will?"

A few more seconds.

"I don't know yet."

"Hm..."

And that was the end of the conversation.

Eleven seemed confused as to why nothing more was said; as to why he was so secretive and mundane over the whole ordeal of it all of the time.

Steve kept his eyes plastered on the road ahead as he cleared his throat and turned into the tree-encased road. It had always been quite an odd location to keep a house- but supposedly, since it was a cabin, it was typical.