𝟯𝟯

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𝟑𝟑 , 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒌

𝟑𝟑 , 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒌

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✯☾✯



𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒕 𝒅𝒐𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑩𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒅 delightedly at the sight of Lizzie returning home.

"Be quick! We're gonna be late!"

Lizzie smiled at Stiles' shout, skipping through the aging frame and into her house.

After staying over at her best friend's house, the girl had come to realise as they were getting in Stiles' jeep, that she'd left every single piece of her school supplies in her room.

The house, like always, was bustling with people and beaming with love.

The early morning chatter filled the air, Lizzie slotting right into it as she neared the source of sound.

There were four other people milling around the kitchen besides the Brown family, the morning regulars if you wish.

The first were Taylor and Tyreese Stirling. The mother and son had moved opposite the Browns a number of years ago. The street in which they lived on was known throughout Beacon Hills for being tight for money. The Stirling's had not escaped that curse. Taylor worked nights in the ER to provide for her son and baby on the way, meaning Lizzie often found herself babysitting and scraping together cash from under her bed to help the two.

Taylor smiled at the pixie as she entered the room, nudging her son seated next to Davis at the table.

"Hi, Lizzie!" Tyreese stuck his hand in the air and waved it manically.

"Hey, T." Lizzie grinned back, catching his erratically moving arm.

"You look exhausted, Liz, what's up? That school got you working too hard?" Taylor called from the cushioned stool positioned beside the counter. She had a coffee in her hand. Routinely in her own 'Hot Mama' mug that she brought round most mornings.

Lizzie felt the familiar sense of warmth and liveliness in the midst of the organized chaos, as she had entered her own comforting world once again.

"I didn't sleep much. I was trying to find out how a bank was robbed so we can break into it." Lizzie shrugged her shoulders, arm darting put to catch the bacon sandwich her elderly neighbour, whom they all called Nana Jean, had dropped.

"I worry about you, baby." Taylor hopped off her stool and rushed over to take the spilling glass of orange juice from Nana Jean's other hand.

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