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༉˚*ೃ ᵒ⁷. 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐁𝐈𝐓 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐂!
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐃𝐀𝐘, Robin did not speak a word to Rain.
It was an unwelcome, unaccustomed shock.
She didn't so much cast Rain a look when the girl entered the store early that morning, Rainbow's hair freshly curled to imitate Whitney Houston—and in a self-indulgent attempt to make Rain herself feel better—though without her regular shimmering cherry and peach lipgloss, or mascara; nor did she murmur funny comments to Rain between customers; or so much as offer Rain a choice on the music. It felt, a little bit, like Rain had been slapped in the face.
Perhaps it was deserved, perhaps it wasn't, but it only made Rain want to cry even more. She'd tucked herself up in the back room on her first break and cried for the full half-hour, making sure her hands were covering her mouth so no one could hear the sounds. It seemed all Rain did these days was cry.
They must have noticed her red eyes when she went back out to serve ice-cream—but it didn't make Robin utter a single thing to her. She was hurt, Rain could see it in Robin's gaze, her tight expression, the way she was avoiding looking at Rain with all her might, her lips sealed shut. Fuck, Rain had hurt her. Rain despised how much that made her chest twist up with guilt and sorrow. She shouldn't be feeling that way about Robin. But all it made Rain want to do was press her palms and fingers into her face until she stopped thinking at all.
Why did she destroy everything around her? All good things must come to an end, Rain wanted to cry to herself as she stood silently at the Scoops counter, but I don't want them to. It was unfair— God, it was so unfair. So unfair. All of it.
She held the ice-cream scooper in hand and stared out miserably at the sea of people in Starcourt Mall. There were teenage girls with their neon scrunchies and armbands; nerdy seventh-grader boys standing around Electronics Mania; mothers engaging in the traditional, Hawkins Mom gossip; the occasional glance thrown her way. Rainbow felt a bit like a ghost—maybe she was a ghost—a ghost just existing without being totally real. Maybe she was never real at all. She just watched, watched, watched into the distance as her gentle eyes blinked and her fingers clutched the scooper like it was her last lifeline. Steve and Robin chatted idly beside her, but Robin didn't glance at Rain once, and their words seemed to flow past her head in a faint trickle that didn't even register. Rain wasn't listening a whole lot, if she was being honest—wrapped up in her own thoughts. She had too many thoughts, now.
