❝fuck bullshit lies and perfectly sewn love stories. my stitching is messy but goddammit it's real and handmade like the heaven you bring to me.❞
OR
In which the new Queen of Hawkins High finds herself falling for the fallen King.
[STRANGER THINGS...
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i know that i'm never, ever gonna change, and you know you don't want it any other way
The small town residing inside Indiana was nothing compared to the fascinating world of Santa Monica. As Phoebe neared the end of her third day constantly driving to a place she didn't want to go, clouds slowly crawled into the oncoming sky hiding away the forbidden sun. She found the dark grey vapour was an almost unbroken safety blanket, protecting the pale inhabitants against even the smallest rays of sunshine. Her skin craved the warmth of the Golden Coast as soon as brisk winds bit at her ankles.
The house itself was fine, not pretty and polished like the one she grew up in, but at the very least she was grateful not to be sleeping in another motel bed filled with broken springs and anonymous stains. Susan greeted her like a good little home maker, tightly waved hair bouncing against her shoulders as she walked down the steps of the porch.
"How was it, sweetie?" The ginger woman waited with pursed lips while her step daughter stood from the vehicle. She really hated that car, it stood out like a sore thumb next to her husband's silver SUV, especially when her brothers parked alongside the two.
"Not the worst." Phoebe shrugged. She missed the silent solace already, "Has Max decided which room she wants?"
Susan nodded, leading the blonde into their new home, "She's at the back opposite your father and I. William hasn't arrived yet so you have the choice of the one next to hers or ours."
Without hesitation she chose the one next to Max's. Her father helped unload her heavier furniture from the U-Haul currently fixed to the back of her red muscle car. The room was in the shape on an 'L', mirroring her step sister's. Her small double bed only just managed to fit in the crook, creating a cosy space to drift away in.
Hours of rearranging the room passed before a navy blue Camaro could be heard pulling up onto the curb and a muggy sunset made itself present in her bedroom window. Emptying out her socks into the small drawer of her dresser, Phoebe dropped the empty black bin liner behind her and rushed to greet her brother.
"Billy!" She squealed, attacking him with a hug. The two would roughhouse and swear at each other like drunken sailors, but their love for each other would always be the first thing anyone noticed about the twins. He picked her up with ease and spun her around, quickly dropping her to the floor again.
Phoebe's twin would sometimes forget the rude masculine persona he put on and actually behaved like himself, but it never lasted long with their father close by.
"See that hunk of crap didn't kill you on the way here then?" Billy joked as they both carried a bed frame into his new room. His distaste for the nineteen-sixty-eight Mustang Cobra was evident whenever it came up in conversation, only due to it being left to her rather than him in their mother's will.
