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Summary:Billy and reader celebrate the first Christmas with their baby.
Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.
The air is thick and stuffy and Billy feels like every breath takes twice as much effort. There’s screaming, crying children at every corner, snot-nosed and red-faced and headache-inducing.
If anyone had explained hell to him like this, he would be thoroughly inclined to believe every word of it and yet Billy finds himself here on a Friday afternoon of his own free will.
His eyes wander across the crowd standing in line to meet a fat old man with a fake beard as the mall keeps playing cheesy Christmas songs, everyone looks positively miserable.
A shiver runs down his spine as his mind wanders to another day at another mall. His body still bears the scar and sometimes, when life gets hectic and he gets too in his head, he can still feel the sharp sting going through his chest.
The soft touch of a hand against his arm shakes him from his grim thoughts and as he turns his head, he’s greeted by a comforting calm that always seems to rest in (Y/N)’s eyes.
She knows of his scars too, traces them every night when she rests in his arms, safe and warm. Sometimes she kisses them. “They are part of you,” she says. “ They are a sign of your strength. You survived and that’s something to be proud of. “
He doesn’t see it that way but he tries to. It’s a nice thought. That despite everything, a shitty dad, an absent mother, a possession, and a fucking spike through the chest, he came out alive and — and life seems to be gentle on him these days. It lets him find good things, good people, and keep them.
Maybe all of the hardships and pain have led him here and maybe they are worth it.
“ You excited to meet Santa? “ (Y/N) chuckles and looks up at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes.
“ So fucking excited, does my face not show it? “
A tut sounds from the woman behind them in line. “There are children here, watch your language. “
There’s a before Billy and an after. Before he was given a second chance and after. Before Billy would’ve replied with a smartass comment, would’ve picked a fight wherever he saw the chance. Fighting was familiar. It was comforting in a way. If he fought other people, his mind would let off and he didn’t have to deal with fighting his own demons.
After Billy sees no point in it. He will fight if he has to, but more than anything else, he wants peace and quiet and to not deal with more shit than he gets on the regular. So he just nods and murmurs a sorry before throwing a smirk at (Y/N) who reciprocates it back to him. For sure, he thinks, they’ll bitch about this lady together later at home.
“ Can you believe it, “ (Y/N) whispers, softly nudging his side. “ There are children here. “
“ I’ll do you one better, “ Billy replies. “ There’s even babies here. “
His eyes lower to her chest where a pair of blue eyes stare back at him from the face of a red-cheeked, smiley little boy. Eyes the same as his. Smile all gums, the two single teeth he has hidden in the back of his mouth.
“You hear that, Jack?” (Y/N) gasps in mock horror and looks down at the 8-month-old strapped to her chest. “There are babies here.”
The little boy lets out one of his cheerful baby laughs, the one that always sends Billy’s heart soaring. When he was younger, Billy promised himself that if he were to ever have a child, there would be no pain and suffering, no wondering if they were good enough, if their father loved them. Every time he sees his own son laugh or smile or even just breathe, an immense sense of happiness and pride fills him. Like everything good in the world lies in the face of his child.
Exactly a year ago he and (Y/N) were standing at this very place watching overworked and stressed-out parents standing in line to take a picture of their kid sitting on Santa’s lap. She was pregnant then, images of their family just a vision on the horizon. A beautiful dream about to come true.
It’s better than he could’ve ever imagined. For so long, Billy felt like there was no place for him in this world. Like all he could do was drift from one disappointment to the next. Heartache to heartache. Trying to stay afloat when anger and pain kept pulling him under. Kept trying to drown him.
Now, he thinks, he is exactly where he’s supposed to be. Maybe if nothing else, he’s meant to be a dad.
Even if he hates the music, the crowds, the other snot-nosed brutes. He loves his son, he loves his girlfriend, he loves spending time with them, making memories with them.
His son deserves to get the life he never had and if that includes cheesy overpriced Mall Santa pictures, Billy would gladly suffer through it with a smile on his face.
“Welcome to Santa’s Workshop. Santa is ready to see you now, what’s this little one’s name?” an overly friendly teenage girl greets them, the bells on her hat and slippers ringing with every move she makes, quickly catching the baby’s attention.
“This is Jack,” (Y/N) answers and takes him from the carrier, holding him up in her arms now.
“Oh hi Jack, are you excited to see Santa?” The teen asks, her voice raised up to a squeaky cheer.
And while Billy doesn’t go looking for trouble anymore and tends to walk away from confrontation these days, he’s still a sarcastic little fuck with a mouth too quick of this brain.
“Eh, we mostly brought him to take the picture of us.” He replies and shrugs his shoulder nonchalantly, earning him a chuckle and a nudge to his side from (Y/N) and a questioning look from the Christmas elf, clearly signaling him that his joke didn’t land with her.
A few seconds later they are led over to meet Santa. The big man sits on a huge red suede chair with gold trimming. Everything is decked out in tinsel and ribbon and garlands. It’s like Hallmark has thrown up in here.
Billy wants to hate it, he really does. Wants to resent every bit of the commercialized crap they put out for desperate parents to relish in.
And yet, when he looks over at his girlfriend holding their child, his child, and sees her smile and the way it matches the one on the baby’s face, he can’t help but feel an unfamiliar warmth spread through his chest.
Maybe love makes you see things differently. Put a different meaning even to the things you can’t stand.
“Does daddy want to be in the picture too?” The elf questions and shakes Billy from his daydream.
Without a second thought, without even a hint of hesitation, he goes to stand by his girl and his baby to take a picture with Santa. If someone had told him years ago that he’d be here, he would have called them crazy.
Every time someone reminds him of the fact that he is a dad now, his heart grows 3 sizes. If there was ever a title Billy was proud to hold, it’s the title of Dad.
This is never something he particularly wished for, never believed he would ever have this, and yet it’s all he could ever ask for.
Sometimes the most wonderful gifts are those you don’t even ask for.
The tree stands tall and proud in the corner of their living room. It is decked out in lights and tinsel and ornaments.
Looking at it transports Billy back to the past. It reminds him of many Christmas trees much like this one. He remembers his dad going out to get it on December 15, always December 15. Mom and he would stay home and watch a Christmas movie and wait for dad to bring the tree so they could decorate it. He loved their tradition. Maybe because it was one of the only times Neil took part in any happy family activities and there was no screaming and throwing plates. Maybe because his mom seemed genuinely at peace then.
Well that went to shit faster than he can remember
When mom left, Neil stopped bothering. There were a few years with no trees and then Susan and Max came along and while with them the trees came back, it was never the same.
This tree in all its kitschy, tinsel-covered glory, brings this feeling of peace and joy back into his heart. Makes him remember the good times.
There’s an ornament on the tree with his mother’s initials on it. She left it behind and for many years it had been stuffed into a box and left in the basement. That was until Billy moved out. It’s one of the few things he owns that belonged to his mom, and while his heart will forever hold some resentment towards her for leaving him behind, she was still his mother and there were good times. Good times he finally wants to remember again.
“He loves the tree,” (Y/N) exclaims as Billy rounds the corner and sits down on the floor next to her and their son. “He’s mesmerized by the lights.”
Billy hands her the mug of hot chocolate before taking a sip of his coffee. No milk but several spoons of sugar. She always makes fun of him for it. He says he likes it sweet, just like his women. It makes her laugh and blush so he’ll never stop saying it.
“You think it’s time for presents?” Billy asks and though their little one has no concept of what that means, he can see the sparkling of excitement and euphoria in (Y/N)’s eyes.
“You ready to see what Santa brought you?” (Y/N) directs the question and the baby who only looks back at his mom with a smile, all gums, no idea what any of her words mean but glad to be involved.
He loves ripping the paper off of the packages and soon enough the 3 of them are surrounded by an ocean of colors and patterns. Swallowed by a wave of wrapping paper.
Billy knows what’s in each of the boxes. When (Y/N) told him she was pregnant he promised himself he’d be that kind of dad. The one who’s involved. The one who knows what their kid is getting for Christmas, who helps buy and wrap the gifts.
“Should’ve just gotten him some rolls of wrapping paper and bows,” (Y/N) jokes once the baby has unwrapped all of the boxes and resorted to playing with the ribbon. They don’t have a lot when it comes to finances. Billy works as a mechanic while (Y/N) splits her time between being a mom and a waitress. Nevertheless, they tried to put as much money aside to make this first Christmas a special one, even if their kid doesn’t know the value of any of these gifts, they do and it is as much for them as it is for Jack.
“You did good. I think he’ll love the toys once he’s done staring at the tree.”
Billy knows that while he’s very vocal about his insecurities when it comes to being a dad, she keeps her fears about being a mom safely hidden inside her chest. They only break out every once in a while. So he tries to take every chance he gets to reassure her of the phenomenal job she’s doing.
“Thank you, baby” she replies and places a soft kiss on his lips. She tastes like hot chocolate and warmth. “I know we said no gifts but uh - I got you a little something”
She pulls a small box from under the tree, cheeks blushed from her confession.
“Well that’s good cause I got something for you too,” he replies and holds out a gift to her in exchange.
“Billy,”she gasps as she pulls the wooden frame from the paper. “I love this!”
It’s a photograph of them 3 at a garden party one of their friends invited them to earlier in the year. Jack is but a few months old, bucket hat and baby sunglasses perched on his head. His parents smiling at each other. Its love captured in a photograph.
“We don’t have a lot of family photos around. Thought maybe we should start. ”
“I love that. I really really do, Billy. And I love you! ”
She grants him another kiss before it’s his turn to unwrap the present.
At first, he’s not even sure what he’s looking at and then he turns it around. It’s a shiny blue Christmas ornament with his initials written on it in delicate calligraphy and the words “world’s best dad” on the other.
“I know you don’t like to talk about it but I see how much your mom’s ornament means to you so I thought maybe you’d like one for you. And you deserve it. You are the world’s best dad - and the world’s best boyfriend.”
It feels like he imagines being struck by lightning feels like. But in a good way. Like a switch has been flipped. Like suddenly everything falls into place right before his very eyes.
This is where he belongs. Where he’s meant to be. If all the hardship and pain have brought him here, he’d live through it all over again.
His next words aren’t planned. He hasn’t thought much about it. He wonders if she has. If so, she hasn’t mentioned it. But it feels right. It feels perfect.
Jack holds in his tiny hands a thin piece of ribbon, shiny and red and perfect.
“Can I have that,” Billy asks the baby, prying the ribbon away from his hands and replacing it with another piece of paper for him to rip up.
“What are you doing?” (Y/N) asks as Billy lifts himself up to one knee.
“I love you. I have loved you from the moment we met. I love you even more since you’ve given me the best present I could’ve ever received. Our baby. You made me a dad and you made me find my place in this world when I felt lost. I’m meant to be here with you and Jack. I’m sorry I don’t have a ring but I’ll get you one, I promise. Will you let me upgrade from best boyfriend to best husband? Will you marry me?”
She doesn’t say yes, not with words, but she doesn’t have to. She says it in many different ways. In the kisses she places all over his face. In the way she nods her head as their lips are connected. In the smile that takes over her lips when he wraps the ribbon around her ring finger.
There’s love in everything she does. There’s a yes in every little thing.
Sometimes the best Christmas gifts are the ones you didn’t even know you wanted. The ones you didn’t ask for but the ones you’ll never give back for anything in the world.
Sometimes the best Christmas gift is the love you receive from the people you love most and the knowledge that you’re right where you’re supposed to be.
The curtains over his window barely did anything to keep the Sunday morning glow out of his room. They fluttered in the light breeze that climbed through his window, unobstructed golden light flickering over your fingers as they rose and fell with his chest.
Your fingertips brushed lightly over his skin, which was soft as you’d ever imagined it. His breaths were deep and steady. In… and out. And you let this mesmerise you, almost meditating with the movement.
You brought your knee up to rest on his bare thigh, the slight ache from the night’s activities only satisfying in this afterglow, tilting your body a little to fit tighter against his. His forearm rested beneath your shoulders, propping you up on the pillow beside him, and his breathing was a gentle constant that soothed your mind.
You trailed your gaze over his face. His dark lashes, his sweet lips that devoured you last night. You couldn’t wait to have them on yours again, but you wouldn’t wake him just yet. You turned your face towards his neck, breathing in deeply, gently. His permed locks tapped against your nose as you inhaled and his summery scent swirled in your mind. He simply smelled warm, with the faintest hint of chlorine. And you could swear he still smelled of sand, though the nearest beach was miles away.
You basked in his closeness, his skin against yours, your nose to his jaw and your forehead to his cheek, both your feet caught up in the blanket together.
You could get used to this. A tender smile lifted the corners of your lips and you sighed lightly, contentedly.
The arm beneath your shoulders tensed and the space between his eyebrows creased as he began to stir. His legs stretched out straight and a low groan rumbled in his throat, his head turned towards you. His arm curled around your shoulders a little more securely and he pulled you towards him, burying his nose in your hair.
You looked up at him when he pulled back, ready to greet him. But he didn’t even open his eyes to look at you before he retracted his arm from around you and instead used it to nudge you an inch from where you lay, turning his back to you.
His blue irises reflect the steady stream of moonlight. The night sky and its many little crystals of light peak in on him through the foggy beads of dew and drizzle. The rain patters against glass in a steady melancholic drum; wind rattles the old pipes and wooden bones of the room like a lonesome dog begging to be let in. The windowpanes lead to nature’s own picture show in technicolor, but Billy’s mind wanders to the monochromatic.
To the past. To just that day’s passing period where fifth transitions to sixth. To when the stubborn clouds finally part their curtains to the sun in this drowsy, little northern town. The kids are just as muted in annoyance as the people Billy’s age are in excitement.
Shoes squeak on linoleum, and the hallways are filled with the rhythm of slamming lockers and melodramatic hushes of secret admirers. True love. Broken hearts. Longing…
The muscles of Billy’s cheek pull at the corner of his lip, yet his lips are dry, and the beginning hum of a cackle is yet to be resuscitated in his throat. This is just a residual reaction; Billy knows this somewhere in the back of his mind because it happens from time to time.
He was standing there, in that very hallway, with an arm leaning over a head of long blonde hair that reeked of hairspray and speckled green eyes. Or maybe they were a golden brown. He doesn’t know; the allure in them and the girl’s pretty smile was lost to him. The lockers were hard, and the metal was shooting pins and needles up his arm. Despite the cushion of a jacket, pain bloomed its thorns into the point of his elbow. Yet the pumping vessel beneath his chest bone was receiving the brunt of it.
Because you were there. Just feet away from him. With a dainty hand fiddling with the golden chain of a butterfly necklace—the one Billy had given you just months before—as a large smile was plastered on your face. It was genuine, Billy had noted, because it dared to shatter your complexion. Your wide eyes crinkled. Moisture stuck to your lashes—no, your lips didn’t dare to let go.
You were so happy. You were so goddamn happy, standing there with another man as the center of your focus, as the reflection in your eyes. The gloss of your irises captured better than film technology—how he brushed the stubborn baby hair away from your temple or how his lips spoke of words only you could understand—for it relayed your giggles and other quirks upon the entirety of your features.
Billy’s tortured bone was sending distress signals to his brain, wanting a rest. Billy hadn’t listened to it. He wanted to snap that lanky brunet’s long, slender fingers. The ones that rested on the edge of your scalp were too chicken shit to run and grasp a bit of hair to be brought in for a velvet kiss and never let go until you’re both gasping for air.
Those hands have never worked a day in their life, Billy could tell. Never had to work summers in a humid garage or on somebody’s lawn for some spending money. No, Jimbo would never leave you breathless, but at least you’d be comfortable. Bored, but never worried, nonetheless. He’d give you what Billy never could.
Billy’s fingers mindlessly reach for that same elbow that now thrums in vague feeling. He rubs it, and the callus from handling tools is rough on his skin. God, he wants to laugh. He wants to cackle just as he wanted to cackle in that school hallway. Cackle like he’s got nothing to worry about too, like you meant nothing to him. Cackle because it was just too easy to forget all about you.
Instead, everything blurred, and everything became muffled, and not because he had been engulfed by your plush lips. You didn’t allow Billy the freedom of resuming his affair with this blonde girl, and yet her talking had continued. Going on and on about nail polish—or was it about Madonna’s newest hit? He doesn’t remember what she’d been so interested in, or why stubbornness persisted within her interest in him when Billy was so obviously under another girl’s spell.
You were there. Just a few feet away. With some brunet shorter and thinner than him. Playing with the butterfly necklace Billy had bought for you with the cash he earned, acting as a gardener for his next-door neighbors during spring break. And you were smiling, two months after you had found purple and red hickeys along Billy’s neck and torso for the second time since becoming official. You were now smiling after having screamed and sobbed and pounded on Billy’s bare chest with your fists and watched him turn defensive—listened to him tell you that you didn’t satisfy his needs, you didn’t put out enough, youjust weren’t enough.
You walked out on him and became both deaf and blind. Never answered the incessant ringer of a house phone. Deleted voicemails before Billy’s voice could utter more than two syllables. Donated and hid some of the belongings he left behind in the back of your closet, like his worn Metallica’s Ride the Lightning record. And you never allowed your gaze to fall upon him for more than a couple seconds, no matter how much your eyes stung and begged to stare just a little bit longer.
And, ironically, Billy did too. His grades were worsening from assignments that were lost in the black hole of his backpack. Other girls were not as appealing as before, no matter how attractive they were and continue to be. Billy can pretend sometimes, however; he was pretending to like that blonde and he almost believed he did until you popped up into his peripheral. Most of the time, Billy couldn’t conjure an ounce of care when things weren’t about you. But he’d like to be quite deaf and blind to that fact too.
The hallway light suddenly flickers through the bottom crack of his bedroom door. Socked feet thread not-so-carefully down the wooden flooring. They forget about the creaky panels that tend to disturb the rest of the household. It’s Max, who has a habit of waking in the middle of the night to fill up on a refreshing glass of water. She must have forgotten to leave a filled cup on her bedside table, Billy thinks.
Billy’s throat itches, and he almost calls out to Max for a glass as well. Almost, before the memory of your eyes suck him back into the bottomless pit of nostalgia. Billy finds that he can’t do much these days except loosen up the tension in his muscles, give up the flailing, and just sink. Drown. His throat itches, and yet he will wait until morning, until he’s only got fifteen minutes to spare before the first bell.
A glass clinks as it lands in the metal sink. The same padded feet trek back into the hallway until the light no longer emits a glow beneath his door and another door down the hall clicks close.
For now, he stays, resting on his back, caught up in a web that enslaves him from sleep. He can kick off the blankets that are entangled with his legs, but, just like they don’t provide much warmth these days, it doesn’t do much in lessening the phantom grasp on him.
And the night grows colder as the rain pummels against his window now, and he wonders if, on the other side of town, the rain beats against your bedroom window as well. The moonlight striking on Billy’s face reflects the streams on the glass like tears upon his cheeks, but he cannot produce tears of his own. He simply stares into distance as his brain produces the same haunting images.
Of your smile. Of the silver butterfly necklace—how it still shines from a soft cleanser. Of how you looked exactly the same as the first day Billy met you, only except it wasn’t him who you were sharing intimacy with. It was some other guy who just wouldn’t stop touching you.
Sometimes Billy wishes he could do the simplest things, laugh and cry and get angry—anything to shake off the stranger he has become.
The green cotton of the couch scratched at your cheek while the rest of your bent limbs dug into its lumpy cushions. Your arms were wrapped around the heat of your throbbing midsection, barely paying attention to the laugh track of Three’s Company from the TV screen consume the quietness of your basement. Your knees scoot closer into your hunched form as Jack Tripper placed a lampshade over his head, eliciting another roar from the audience.
It’s one of your favorite scenes from one of your favorite shows, but under the influence of excessive pain you cannot laugh. Even just the colors that filtered through the television screen, draping a glowing blanket where you were huddled, keeps the interest of your blurred gaze longer. Sleep began to pull you into its hypnotizing clutches.
But then a light flickers by the doorway.
The door creaks in retaliation as the figure above the stairs struggles against its stubbornness―it liked to stay open, making harsh contact with the forehead of your caffeine-deprived father in the early mornings. The almost shapeless shadow nears the doorway as boots thud down the wooden steps. Plastic crinkles with every other step.
Safe.
Lazy lids seal shut your fading curiosity, and the pain settles into a low drum. Static laughter shrinks into a hum.
The plastic bag plops onto the ring-stained coffee table, and the material and the contents within sag. It resembles a cartoon frown. Your eyelids flutter open, eyelashes tickling the soft skin below the rims, and the shadow is no longer a shadow.
Calloused digits doused in the outdoor frost of midnight streets land on the plumpness of your cheek. Chills rumble in low vibration throughout your body as his fingers card through your hair, massaging the thumbs in circular motions on your scalp. A soft sigh passes through your lips and you half-way rise, your left shoulder shoving between the couch’s padding.
“Hey,”Billy breathes out.
A couple blinks pass before you realize that Three’s Company is no longer playing, but rather a man in a pressed suit with a file of papers in his hands follows with details about a recent disappearance. A yawn consumes you before speaking, “Where’d you go?”
“You fell asleep on my lap, so I slid out and got you some things,” Billy starts rummaging through the deflated grocery bag. “I know how much those cramps were kicking your ass.”
Reaching forth, your hands join his in their investigation of goods. Red Vine twists. Two cans of Arizona Tea. Family-sized nacho-flavored Doritos. And several of those miscellaneous gummies that the corner store by the movie theater sells for fifty-cents a pack. You didn’t know which snack to dig into first.
“They ran out of that salt-water taffy you like so much, though.”
Burrowing your bare toes in the ruffles of the carpet, you stand and wrap your sore arms around his ribs. Wild wisps from your crown tickle the tip of his nose as he tucked your head beneath his scratchy chin. He was a couple hours overdue for a shave, but that was something to worry about in the morning. Opting to focus on the heating pads of your arms as they slither just a little tighter around him, the cold melts away with the flush of your body.
His head lowers. Yours tips back with your inviting lips on display.
Slightly chapped lips settle over yours, gently grazing over the petal smoothness of yours. Billy’s hands roam to the dip of your waist, pulling you closer to his ministrations. The minty coolness of Billy’s mint chewing habit settles on the expanse of your tongue before you pull away from him for breath. Your content gaze peers up at him.
Scratched up skateboard wheels rolling across the pavement fluttered through the three-inch crack of the front door as Billy sat at the kitchen table. He’ll be met with a stern lecture from a mustached lip if a fly managed to wander into the home like a tourist upon their first breath of the A.C. at a hotel lobby, but Billy had much more important business to intend to. Report cards were just around the corner and with his sweet talking skills, Billy’d convinced the math teacher into giving him a passing grade if he turned in 200 solved problems by the end of the week.
He had seven days. Seven whole days to answer some textbook questions that they’ve gone over in class. It should have been easy, except it wasn’t. Billy was failing the class for a reason. Day five only had two hours left of sunshine, yet Billy’s currently stuck on problem forty-six. With each tick of the clock mounted behind him, his frustration grew.
One of his temples rested in the cup of his left palm as he beat the eraser head on the other before tossing the pencil at the book pages. Words were merging into numbers and numbers were blurring into letters.
Fuck it, he thought, I’ll just ask for a tutor. Yet he knew if he kept this mindset he’d fail, receive a smack across the back of his head, and still wouldn’t seek out a tutor.
He could hear the skateboard’s wheels beat relentlessly against the cracked concrete while Max explained the footwork behind the technique to you, who was sitting on the grass with your white cane last he check. Jealousy picked at the nerves in his forehead as frustration clenched his eyebrows together.
His mind began running off of the book pages and onto the blue sports car in his driveway. Would he have enough for the wash and the wax. Would there be enough leftover for a tip? Billy was an asshole to a lot of things, but he knew what it was liked to be stiffed.
Page 267 was beginning to give him more trouble than it was worth, and those pointers the geek with the lisp in his class gave weren’t helping at all. The rim of one of Susan’s good glasses touched the plush of his bottom lip, the cool water streaming down the well of his parched throat―
A gasp bordering along a yelp burst through the door, clawing its way into his ear. He nearly choked on his drink; some loose water dribbled down his chin.
Pushing out of his chair and the table he was leaning on, not caring if the polished hardwood caught a couple scratches, he was out the front door in five seconds.
Under the shade of his palm, which he planted against his eyebrows to fend off the sun’s brightness, he scanned the situation for clues.
His step-sister’s skateboard lied planted on the other side of the street. Upside down. Wheels spinning lazily under the shade.
The little redheaded runt’s wide eyes met his. Laced with alarm. Her bottom lip wobbled in search for words. Her hands held out below her…toward you, who was slowly lifting yourself by the skin of your elbows.
Raw. Blood beginning to clot around the loose gravel that clung to the wounds.
Billy marched through the grass, nearly tripping over your forgotten cane. “Max, what’d you do?!”
Max took a deep breath, crouching down to you. Her small fingers brushed your palm before helping you to your feet. “I’m sorry.”
As soon as you were back on the safety pads of your feet, Max turned to face her fuming step-brother.”I didn’t mean―”
His hand landed on her slender shoulder, shaking her like an earthquake rattles a brick foundation. “No, of course you didn’t mean to, you little twerp.”
A couple specks of spit landed across her freckled cheeks and nose, prompting her to screw up her face in mild disgust. “She wanted―”
“How many times do I have to tell you? You need to be careful with her, she’s―”
“Stop talking about me like I’m not here, Billy.” You dusted off the debris from your stinging cuts. “I’m blind, not fragile. How many times do I have to tellyou?”
You would have walked off in the direction of his house if only you knew wherever the hell it was. Trying to land that kickflip Max had spent the last half hour explaining to you really messed with your sense of direction, but you weren’t about to tell them that. Your mother didn’t call you a stubborn mule for nothing plus you were getting really sick of Billy thinking you were weak, so you turned around and started stalking off without the aid device your parents payed for.
“Y/n, where are you going?” Billy called after you. “You can’t just leave.”
“Watch me!” You called over your shoulder, continuing your trek into the unknown.
Billy watched you walking down the street, and for once he appreciated living down such a long road miles away from the populated center of town. If it wasn’t one of his neighbors pulling into their cracked driveways after a long 9-to-5 shift or pulling away for a hearty meal at Benny’s Diner, cars rarely ever raced down this street.
Turning to Max, his grip loosened on her shoulder. “Grab your board and get inside.”
Max didn’t argue. Out of the two of them, Max had a more leveled head. She knew she could just check out the damage on your elbows and apologize again once Billy convinced you to come back into their comfy abode. Yanking away from her older step-brother, she ran for her precious skateboard.
“Babe, come on,” Billy tried to reason with you as his long legs neared you. “You know I didn’t mean it like that. You just―”
His warm hand gently latched onto your arm, turning you to face him. “I just what, Billy? You know people here either pity me or they stand feet apart from me like I’m made of glass,”the pressure in the center of your forehead begins to make itself known in the form of a headache, “I just thought things…here…were different.”
“They are, babe.” His chin bounced with quick little nods to reassure you. Sometimes he forgot that you couldn’t see these small actions. “Okay? They are. Max was teaching you one of her stupid tricks, and I just freaked, okay?”
Memories flicker through your mind, sounds and touch alike. When one of the mean girls at school had purposely stuck her foot out in front of you for taking “her man” away, you had bashed your head against a locker and were knocked out cold. You had woken up moments later in Billy’s arms as he carried you to the nurse’s office. You hadn’t bent over and died when the concussion symptoms came at you in full force; you had just taken the standard amount of sick days at home. Not any less and, definitely, not any more.
Other memories came at you, but none were as extreme as the concussion. Yet, with each scrape or nick that life threw at you, Billy reacted like blood was seeping through your clothing at an alarming rate or your lungs were restricting from lack of oxygen. Whatever it was, Billy acted like it was the end of the world for you.
“I didn’t cry when I fell off a tree branch and broke my arm in fourth grade, “ you began the recited verse you’ve told almost every member of your family, “so, I’m not gonna cry because of some stupid scuff marks on my elbows. I’m fine.”
“But, when I was sitting at the kitchen table, loss in thought, I heard it.” His thumbs were stroking the bones of your cheeks. “I heard you fall, Y/n. How was I supposed to know it wasn’t anything worse? When my dad first introduced me to Susan, Max walked around in crutches after a bad skateboard landing snapped her shin bone.”
You sighed, allowing his outlook on the situation widen the scope of your mind. Maybe you were being a little too harsh on him. After all, you couldn’t pour salt to the sizzle off the worry that ate you up inside whenever Billy decided to hang out with one of his pals. It would steal the sleep from you knowing he’d be driving around drunk. Him cradling you to the nurse’s office and you phoning him to make sure he made it to his bedroom safe were two sides of the same coin.
“I’m surprised Susan still lets her ride around on that thing.” His fingers carded through your hair. “I was just scared the same thing might of happened to you, or worse.”
“I understand, Billy.” You spoke so softly, Billy wasn’t entirely sure if it was just one of your breaths. A shuddering gasp forced its way out of your throat as you fought off the burning sensation of tears from the corner of your eyes. “I just get so frustrated sometimes.”
Your face met the soft cotton of his shirt as he brought you into the protection of his arms. “I know, baby,” He kissed the crown of your head. “I’m sorry I overreact sometimes.”
You sniffled a couple times before pulling away from him, “It’s okay.”
His lips brushed against the center of your forehead first then dipped his head to land another on your plump lips, but your fingers caught him. “You still have to apologize to Max first before you can kiss me.”
He took a deep breath. “Deal.”
Your fingers fumbled for his before before successfully latching on. You sighed as your palms melded together like ironworks as Billy led the way to his house.
As you both grew closer a loose thought struck you. “Wait. Don’t you still have homework to do?”
A/N: I hope I did alright in characterizing a blind reader.
After a couple days of trailing after his father and his new little family in their Chevy truck, Billy pulled up in front of the place they’d now be calling home. Billy’s bones ached from sitting for a prolonged period of time and his eyelids had been heavy from the constant blare of the sun, and yet he thought their new humble abode was just about the ugliest thing he’d ever seen. With several window panes bordering a sun parlour and a low roof that suggested the lack of stairs inside, Billy knew it was totally Susan’s style and not something his father would have picked out had it just been him and his teenage son.
The sun parlour was meant for Susan’s obsession with lilies and begonias. There would soon be a wooden bench with flowered cushions just for her to perch on with one of her many melodramatic books about gossip and heartbreak. And with only one story to worry about, Susan would silence her chirps about stupid superstitions about staircases and ladders as if staircases and ladders were the same thing. Yes, he could see it all so clearly.
Billy felt drowsy, but he wasn’t blind. He knew all about the intentions his father had when purchasing this house, beside the new job opportunity, before reaching for the handle of his Camaro. The daintiness of the house, the seclusion of moving across country, was all just a ploy to keep another woman from slipping through his father’s aching embrace. His father couldn’t control Billy’s free spirited mother, so he chased after a much more timid woman who his ex-co-worker cheated on. Susan just so happened to already have a child his father hadn’t known about ‘til it was too late.
Walking up to the front door just a beat behind his father and the two redheads, and just about ready for a twelve-hour nap, Billy somehow picked up on the flutter of lavish curtains of lace and chintz from the house next door.
A peeping neighbor was curious about them, yet his father was much more interested in the plants rooted beneath the neighbor’s window.
“What the hell are those things?”
“I think they’re flowers,” Max threw in her two cents.
With a small, soft turn of her lips, Susan added, “I’m sure they’ll be absolutely beautiful once they bloom.”
Billy will already half-forgotten this exchange of meaningless words meant to fill in the silence and the curious shadow of his new neighbor until…
October 3. Wednesday. 2:31 a.m.
Sweat accumulated on his forehead as Billy awoke with a start. His sheets stuck against hist bare limbs as a hazy memory of an ocean wave toppling over him and a blurred smile clouded his vision. Yet, getting up, he managed to locate his lighter in the strewn jeans he’d worn the day before and place a fresh cigarette between his lips and another behind his ear before sneaking past dad and Susan’s bedroom.
His palms were clammy and chills prickled his arm hair as he stepped out into the night. Standing in the center of the cement path in sleep shorts and a T-shirt, he figured the cigarettes he planned on having would be enough to take his mind off the old breeze and old memories.
Except, he hadn’t planned on having an audience.
Shewas sitting on the steps of the next door porch. Knees jutted out in front of her, arms tucked across her midsection, and eyes already set on him.
Billy only knew a couple things about her. She and her grandparents were his neighbors, she went to school with him, and she flinched…embarrassingly a lot.
Stubbing out his half-burned cigarette, Billy retreated back inside away from the girl, but not before glancing at the plants his father wouldn’t quit pestering everyone about.
Nothing about them had changed. Still green and still very ugly.
October 16. Tuesday. 2:10 a.m.
Days snail by and the weather has remained stagnant, yet again Billy found himself venturing outside before the bird could sing. His mattress had felt too lumpy against the ridges of his spine and the sheets too tampered to find any peace. And there she was again for the fourth time in the past thirteen days, burning holes into the moisture of the patchy lawn before her.
The cold shoulder was a kick to the shin. Billy’d grown accustomed to the thought of having someone to share the cleansing breeze of sorrow they didn’t plan on speaking of. Billy had the idea that he couldn’t be the only one whose demons kept him from snuggling under the covers and drifting off until the alarm clock said so. No one in their right mind found peace in the shadows of orange street lamps without worse occurrences taking place behind doors…or the insides of skulls.
So, he found himself scrounging through the block of ice that’s never been broken through, not even after the welcoming block party. Not when this girl’s “papa” borrowed his father’s lawnmower. Not when Susan and “nana” swapped pot roast recipes. And, definitely not when she came over with a textbook held against her chest to tutor Max at their dining table.
“You make this a habit or something?”
Her delicate eyelids fluttered before she realized Billy’s figure stood in front of her, scuffing his sneakers at the gravel.
His eyes long adjusted to the dim glow of the street lamp, he studied the ribbon struggling to hold on to her hair and the oversized jacket that swallowed her frame. She was still wearing the same outfit from the day before. He only knew because she had been guiding Max through a couple practice problems while he was curling weights to MTV after school.
“You one of them ‘watch the sunrise’ type of gals or something?”
Hooking the stretched sleeves of her sweater over her thumbs, she responded, “Sometimes.”
Within the frame of a breath, Billy had taken a seat beside her on the steps while his hands rested in his pockets, resisting the urge to comment on the leap of her shoulders. It was easy, he managed to wire his lips shut last night when his father had halted her from walking out their front door without the ten dollars she earned from tutoring. Her chin had tucked into her chest with the flicker of her lids before the older Hargrove shoved the bill into her clammy palms.
“Isn’t it kind of early for that?”
She shrugged, failing to convince anyone, even herself, that there wasn’t a care in her bones.
“Do your grandparents know you come out here?” They reminded Billy of his own grandparents, the ones who’d welcomed him with warm biscuits and a spare bed just before his father tore him away from his last shred of contentment.
“Do your parents know you do the same?” she retorted.
“Touché.”
Billy stayed next to her, never brushing against her for fear of sending her running back into the house, for a few moments longer before getting back up.
Glancing down at her, he motioned towards his house. “I should go, you know, before my dad wakes and freaks.”
She nodded twice. “Okay.”
The weight of his shoulders dragged him down just a little bit more as he spared her another glance before shoving his hands in his pockets and trekking back home. He never stayed outside for long, usually only for the span of a burning cigarette or two. Never as long as her, who’d already be out there far before frost greets his skin and who’d remain out there long after he fell back in the abyss of his bed.
And right before he silently jiggled the pestilent doorknob, he noticed that those odd, not-yet-ready, flowers were beginning to crack open like the release of bubbles from clams.
October 18. Thursday. 3:47 a.m.
Another forty-eight hours passed, a full moon encompassed the dark sky and she was still wearing the same loose sweater he’d seen her in outside of fourth period. The flimsy material still threatened to slip off her shoulders and fall in a red pool around her feet. The bags beneath her downcast eyes contrasted further against the skin of her cheeks, yet she agreed to join him on a walk with him without much convincing.
It was just a stroll around their expansive block, and her top lip hardly separated from its thicker sister while twin arms remained crisscrossed around her ribs like Greek ancient pillars. Billy hadn’t expected anything more for she never really made attempt in being friendly with him nor he with her, not when the street lamps sat cold beneath the sun.
So, when her steps came to a close despite only having twenty-seven cement blocks to go before reaching their neighboring homes, muttering, “It’s not you,” Billy stumbled on his own feet. Yet, she fished forth, steadying him with the softness of her palms. and he gave her a simple nod, “I get it.”
The smile didn’t cut into the plush pillows of her cheeks, creating denudation, but the prudent glaze of her pupils softened. “Not a lot of people do.”
The stroll continued in silence, and skipping over his house Billy walked her to her porch. She climbed the three steps, with an appreciative set of eyes, about to twist the knob and enter the shadowed mass of her grandparents’ timely living room, but Billy spoke.
“Can I ask you something?”
Glancing over the red cotton of her shoulder, she responded, “What?”
His foot settled on the first step, “What’s keeping you?”
She fully faced him with her arms down her sides. “What do you mean?”
He ascended those steps with his hands in his pockets, always in his pockets around her vicinity. “You’re always out here. Cold, shivering, instead of in there,” he nodded towards her front door, “warm, maybe with a teddy bear or two. What’s keeping you from your bed?”
“Nothing in there, I love papa and nana.” She shrugged, lowering her head before settling on “It’s complicated.” She sucked in a deep breath between her teeth, “Thanks for walking me home, Billy,” and retreated, softly closing the door on him.
October 22. Monday. 4:03 a.m.
Billy wiped at the beaded moisture on his upper lip before resting his head on his hands. The dream itself vanished upon the flicker of his lids, leaving behind only fragments of images. A dazzling smile. A wave crashing over. But his semi-conscious brain grasped at the emotions the dream had stirred. It was the same thing over and over again.
Shrugging on a crumpled jacket from the floor and slipping on a pair of sneakers, Billy creeped down the hallway towards the front door with ease. After all the interrupted nights in this new house, he knew which floorboards creaked and strained under his stature. Anything that could give him an advantage around his father he took mental notes of.
He didn’t expect to find her sitting on the single step in front of his door or expect to see a bounce in her race to stand on her two feet when he made his appearance. The door softly clicked behind him.
“I was hoping you’d show up.” She spoke gently.
Even her expression wasn’t so pitiful or down in the dumps. Her jaw sat relaxed with parted lips. A sense of wonder had swept every unshed tear in her lashes and the caution that was so natural in her stare. Billy even took notice of her short tennis skirt and the slouch socks that accompanied her white sneakers and how she resembled a cheery teenaged girl for once, like a girl-next-door should be.
“What’s going on?” he asked her, glancing east and west end of the neighborhood.
“I have something to tell you,” she guided a confused Billy down the cement step and across their moist lawns until they stopped in front of the main window of her house. “Look. The poppies finally bloomed.”
And they did. Those ridiculous green bulbs that stuck out like a wallflower among a popular crowd were no longer that but…nice little flowers with graceful necks and blushing petals. Poppies, so that’s what these buggers were all along.
“See? They aren’t so ugly are they?” She glanced up at him with a playful expression. Her lips quirked and an eyebrow raised.
“I never said anything.” His muscular arms crossed against his chest.
A huff of quiet laughter released under her breath. “No, but I’ve heard your dad say a thing or two. He’s not very quiet.”
He stilled and the playful banter isn’t so fun anymore. “You can hear him?”
Her head dropped to her chest and the hair behind her ears fell free. “Sometimes.”
Fists fall to his sides, clenching, and he hides them in his pockets like he usually does around her. And, yet, embarrassment spread a fire across his face. It wasn’t her fault that these houses were so old their walls appeared paper thin. It wasn’t her fault his dad found a reason to express his disappointment in his son every chance he got nor raise his palms with quick ease. Life just freaking sucked sometimes.
But, he didn’t want her thinking he was angry at her or anything because she overheard a scuffle or two. By spending what little time with her after sunlight, he knew her more than any other person at their school did. He knew she couldn’t sleep without demons sinking their claws into her skin and dragging her through mud, like him. They were far past formalities.
Fingers tickled her palm before lacing together with her own, and she realized Billy was holding her hand.
“Poppies, you said?”
She nodded. “Yeah.”
“They’re,” he cleared imaginary lint from his throat, “nice.”
“I grew them myself,” she offered. “I found out the first bouquet papa gave to nana were poppies.”
“Really?” His soft gaze fell on her.
She nodded once more with a pull at her lip before returning the look.
One day she’d tell him about the anxiousness that gnawed on her scalp as the date of her father’s release draws near. She’d tell him how his own father’s forced acts of kindness reminded her of her own whenever one of his work pals would come over to watch the game. She’d tell him that she’d only been living with her grandparents for a little less than four years. She was originally from out of state, where the clouds didn’t hold the sky hostage. One day she’d tell him that there was a time when her papa and nana only knew what she looked like based on a photo in their album when she was only 13 months old. That her father was sent to prison after Coach Annie spotted a trail of blue smudges trailing towards her shoulder. How a scar from a scolding iron on her thigh was discovered after that.
Billy’s thumb brushed over her cold knuckles once more as he gazed upon the warm hues of the poppies, and she felt that one day she could tell him everything.
A/N: So sorry about the super long wait for this request! >.<
“So, what’s this Cocteau Twins? I hear they’re like all the rage in our English class.”
Billy certainly wasn’t the only boy to glance at the heavy black outlines of her eyes or trace the shape of her soft lips with precise pupils and he certainly wasn’t the first to notice the emptiness beneath the blankness of her painted face, but he didn’t turn away like the rest. He stared straight on behind the guise of disinterest in the same fashion she did. Perhaps she never sought out the interests of her peers after her relationship with Steve, but Billy had come to her.
Billy’s interest in her led him to the wrap around porch, where her stray tears dripped onto the painted wood, if they weren’t mopped up by her sleeve. It led to another victory against his rival, but he found he didn’t care for that if it meant this connection with the dazed girl was shallow. It led to something more beneath the shadows of the night away from the pollutants of other gazes. It led to acceptance into her little bubble.
She was no longer trying to push him away with hollow laughter or with the front of her back.
“It’s written on your notebook,” He pressed for a reciprocation of words, in which the answer he’d been searching for would lie.
Heat rose into the supple of her cheeks, a contrast against the moisture clinging to her lashes, when she realized he was awaiting an answer and not just filling the silence with thoughtless matter. “They’re a band not really known around here,” her hands fidgeted in front of her.
His shoulder was now nearly pressing against hers. “How’d you hear about them then?”
Billy’s half-lidded eyes were soft, and she swore since he’d found her the smile on his lips lacked that usual air of arrogance. “Well,” she started, “I have this penpal from the U.K. and we often trade tapes. Been doing it for a couple years now actually.”
All those trips to the record stores resulted in more questions and an increase of mileage on his tank. One time he had to make 20 miles last a week because of the excessive driving and his allowance only came on Sundays, and that’s if his father deemed he was “good” enough to receive it. Hawkins’ may be the smallest town he’d ever step foot in, but even towards the end of that week he was sure he’d get stuck on the side of that long narrow road out in the woods with a brooding Max.
“You should let me hear them some time,” he said, his elbows resting on the railing and his hands clasped together.
“I don’t think you’ll like them,” she answered honestly.
The both of them turned to face the sliding of the house, toward the chanting of the crowd who was no doubt surrounding the keg stand in the backyard. They couldn’t see anything, but soon the crowd erupted in disappointment. No doubt whoever was trying to take down Billy’s score had lost terribly.
“Come on,” he faced her again, “you got me feeling like some curious cat over this foreign band. Surely I’ll like them better than this party.”
“I don’t know,” she shrugged, still not sure whether to reveal such a part of herself to a guy she just met. The guy being Billy of all people.
“My whip’s got good speakers, ya know.” His grin looked sweeter than all those chocolates from those filled-to-the-brim pillow cases from her childhood.
“I have good speakers at home, too.”
“Surely not Rockford Fosgate good.”
“I’m not gonna stand here and pretend to know that brand, but I’m gonna take a guess and say those speakers are expensive.” She eyed him with a quirk of the brow. “You have rich parents or something?”
Billy’s grin faltered, slipping off his face as he thought of something to say, but eventually settled with: “Not really,” his voice trailed off into a pause.
The ring on his finger shone and he twisted it around. His brain was holding up a giant, red STOP sign, telling him to just shut the fuck up for a second. But, just like he runs red traffic lights and cuts off walking pedestrians, Billy doesn’t listen. For some reason, he trusted the girl beside him for she never seemed the stuck-up type nor the kind to spread gossip like wildfires. He only ever saw her speak to one person, and that was Samantha, another girl who didn’t strike him as some annoyance.
He cleared his throat and stared off into the neighborhood. “Actually, I bought them off a friend with some of my mom’s life insurance money.”
If there was ever one thing Y/n envied of Samantha was her relationship with her parents. They were fun, and though they were square they supported and encouraged Samantha’s expressionism in her choice of clothing and style of hair. On the other hand, it was obvious that Y/n’s parents had been brought up in strict Catholic homes by how her mother tried pushing for floral blouses and corduroy skirts in her wardrobe and how her father would glance her way and sigh. But even then, she knew her parents loved her and she couldn’t imagine any sort of life without her mother or her father.
But that was the boulder she learned that weighed on Billy’s spine.
“Oh my god,” she pressed a palm against her mouth, “I’m so sorry.”
He sniffled once. “Don’t be. It happened a long time ago. So uh,” he blinked a few times, “What do you say?”
She doesn’t know what propelled her to ditch the stupid party to go for a ride in Billy’s infamous Camaro. Maybe it was because of the pity she felt for his childhood without the nurture of a mother. Maybe she just really wanted to get away from Steve and the moment that took place by the staircase and he was her only window. Or, maybe it’s because Billy had shown vulnerability, a side to him she had had doubts of existing.
It didn’t matter. None of it did because the night breeze was swirling through her locks in different shades of blue, she imagined in the fashion of that Van Gogh painting in the school library she really liked. The leather seats she was situated in harbored her warmth as though it were an oven mitt and she the casserole that just got taken out to cool. And, Billy was right. His speakers, playing one of her tapes, only cemented the fantasy.
The streets of Hawkins was just a stage, and she was the star among the many worldly props. And, Billy…
His hair was swept away from his own alluring features, like hers, by the the cooperation of Mother Earth’s natural fan and the rolled-down windows of Billy’s waxed Camaro. Gone was the glint of a glare and the stone of the scowl that marred his complexion, leaving behind a pliable expression just a shy away from a smile.
Cocteau Twins was proving itself to be too gloomy for his tastes, its notes striking something deep and morbidly beautiful in his core, but he didn’t mind it so much. This moment was delivering some of the most tranquility and purity since his mother could wiggle her bare toes in sand as she watched him catch a wave.
With every glance he shared with Y/n, his apathetic classmate, Billy had never seen such life ignite and burn in her. He couldn’t ask for anything closer to heaven.
Dating Billy was like dating one of the many attractive rockstars plastered on the pale walls of your bedroom, except only with slightly less screeching girls and more bloody knuckles. Billy hated when other men, many who are older, would try to propose to you some sort of midnight deal involving money and their hotel rooms and you hated when girls would reach up and twirl bits of his hair or rub the lapels of his jean jacket with their fingers every time you left to get more booze or for a quick bathroom break.
This was the Sunset Strip, Hollywood’s most popular spot for metal musicians and whores with fishnets that run up the expanse of their thighs, and it was a dangerous combo when the two of you were thrown into the mix. Yet, it was a drug that provided cheap thrills, and you and Billy were just teenagers without a whole lot of money lining your pockets. This was your amusement park. This was where parts of your D.N.A laid to rest. Billy’s too.
They say one loses fifty to about a hundred strands a day and you cannot imagine any other area in Los Angeles, other than your home, that’s collected all 54,750 of your fallen hair since the age of fifteen. No other area’s collected your fingerprints as much or your littered cigarettes. No other venue outside of the Whisky A Go-Go have you and Billy carried out most of your sloppy quickies in the public restroom—usually because Billy dragged you after a guitarist or singer couldn’t keep their eyes off you.
Billy’s jealousy has gotten you guys into more trouble than sometimes it’s worth. You’ve gotten kicked out of clubs for smashing beer bottles against the wall just centimeters away from his target, a musician’s most precious asset—his pouty face. You were surprised that you could count all scuffles Billy’s gotten himself into with band members, some from bands you actually enjoyed watching, on one hand.
You still haven’t forgiven him for banning the two of you from ever attending an L.A. Guns gig again.
“This place blows.” Billy slams his glass on the counter in a huff and the bartender gives him a pointed look before shaking his head to himself.
His attitude tonight was wearing down your placid features faster than a clock counted minutes. And, he’s hardly glanced in your direction to at least make it easier for you to hear him among all the other noise that penetrated your ear drums.
He slid off the stool and doesn’t apologize when his shoulder shoved into your chin. Sometimes you swore you could wrap your hands around his throat and strangle him.
All the trouble with security and other patrons you both been in hadn’t just been because of his loose tongue and quick fists. No, you were pretty sure you’ve been in more altercations that involved a split lip or black eye than he had. There were too many bimbos that rubbed you the wrong way and too many guys who thought they had a free pass to grope you just because you sometimes wore mini skirts and low-cut tops.
You knew Billy’s itching mood meant you had to turn down alcohol and provide the role of babysitter because if you didn’t, he’d do something that even he’d regret. But, you’ve never been one with much patience. It’s why you hardly knew the three-year-old stranger who lived under your parents’ roof and called you “sissy” in passing. You didn’t feel all that bad for the cold shoulder she often received, your mother and step-father provided plenty of warmth. They preferred her over you anyway.
“Wait up, jerk!” You called after your boyfriend, though he didn’t slow down. You weren’t doubtful that it was due to him ignoring you over simply just not hearing you.
The effort in teasing your hair and painting your face to near perfection had gone to waste so far, but you didn’t mind. The ever prideful girl in a leather skirt and jean jacket, though that alone couldn’t define you.
The bartender’s glare was glued to you, waiting for the payment of Billy’s whiskey glasses. You searched through your pockets, only finding a couple loose bills and some change of mostly pennies you knew wasn’t not nearly enough to cover the tap. You set it on the counter and chased after Billy’s direction before you could be flagged. Luckily some drunk was hassling the bartender for another serving and you caught the wisps of Billy’s dirty-blond locks leaving through the back exit.
Barging through the door, you found Billy already sucking on a Marlboro—your Marlboro.
You marched through the dirty alley. “Hey, stupid, I could’ve gotten arrested back there! I haven’t any money on me you know!” Just inches away from him, you continued, “He knows my freakin’ face.”
“Tough luck.” The smoke harbored in his mouth was blown into your face.
You swiped at him, knocking his, well, your cigarette on the ground. “I’m so sick of your pointless attitude, Billy. Grow up!”
With a flared nose, Billy scoffed, “Everything’s fuckin’ pointless, babe. Don’t you get it?” The point of his burning finger touched the chilled skin of your chest, pushing you. “You’re pointless.”
“No,” you shook your head, “you don’t mean that.” Focusing on the golden pendant that’s hung around his neck, you could feel the suffocating heat of his blue irises. “Two years can’t just go by and not mean anything,” you mumbled.
“Yeah? Well, it did!” A bit of his spit landed on your cheek as he puffed a breath down your face.
You knew this act almost too well. Billy may be the biggest asshole who ever lived, though you knew you stood in a place well below a pedestal to look down upon him, but whenever this sudden bout of anger was directed at you, you knew it was displaced. Billy had a fishermen’s nest worth of loathing in the pit of his stomach, directed at his father and things that couldn’t be undone from the past.
You’ve spent about 730 days together so far. You weren’t just some cheap date nor an easy lay. Billy’s shown you too much—given you more—to be able to take it back straight out of the blue. Damaged goods. That’s what the two of you were, and he found comfort in the thought that he wasn’t alone.
But, even when your brain knew better, your heart found it difficult to differentiate truth from impulse. And right now, the beating beneath your breast bone was thumping a very low, and foreboding note.
You tongued at the rim of your upper back molar, a nervous habit since preschool, before stating, “I don’t believe you.”
“Just get out of here!” Billy pointed at the dark street as if you hadn’t rode here as his passenger for the millionth time. “Find your own way home.”
“The hell I’m not,” you ground between your teeth. Your palms met his chest a couple times before he snatched your wrists.
But, when you glanced up at him, his face was turned into the deeper end of the alleyway. It’s almost too dark to see, but when you squinted you made out the shape of a figure, presumably a guy. And upon closer inspection, you noticed he was about your age. Maybe younger if going by the pudginess of his cheeks. You’d never seen him around before.
“Hey, asshole, what are you staring at?!” Billy’s voice rang in your ear like the beating of heavy church bells, or worse, thunder.
The lone boy looked stuck in a crossfire, and immediately you knew he was in fact younger by a few years based on the softness of his eyes despite the glow of a cigarette between two fingers. Hell, even at fourteen you’d been smoking for at least a year.
His knee jittered, ready to bounce if Billy proved too big of a menace, but he stood at a dead end. He had no where to go.
“Billy,” you warned, but Billy had already succumbed to the role of a predator. Tense muscle pulled out of your grasp as he stalked towards the wide-eyed deer. “Billy!”
“That’s it! I’m outta here!” But, this was what he wanted. If he couldn’t shoo you away like a pigeon picking at crumbs on a sidewalk, he’d ignore you like a lone cat skittering in the neighborhood.
Making up your mind about hailing a cab and then raiding your step-father’s study to pay for the ride, you’re about to reach the sidewalk when suddenly your blood ran cold. You could recognize the clinking of the sheathing of a pocketknife, you’ve carried the same one you found just hours before the first day of fourth grade on you since. Right now, it fit snug inside your leather boot and it bumped against your ankle with every step.
Which meant Billy somehow hadn’t slipped your knife in his pocket.
Yelping, Billy fell against the bricks and slid down until he reached the littered ground of smokes and shards of glass. The boy had already been running away by the time you’d turned to watch, shoving past you with sweat beads above his brow. Some of the glint of the metal in his hand was obstructed by a thick, red consistency and the steady thumping in your chest stuttered.
Running after the boy was a lost cause, especially since the streets tended to be busier at night than in the daylight. Yet, by the time you knelt beside your fallen boyfriend, his breath released in puffs and the tear of his white T-shirt across his abdomen contained stained blots. The skin beneath raw and wet, but not deep at all.
“Oh, thank God,” the breath swooshed out of your lungs, “It’s just a nick, Billy.”
“Fuck,” he chuckled as he inspected the cut. “Way to go world, just kick me when I’m already down!”
Your shaped eyebrows knitted together. “Jesus, have you gone mad? You just got shanked and you’re laughing?!” Your hand hovered just inches away from his wound. “What should we do?”
While you’d been too worried, the pads of his fingers grazed the slice. He winced. “Tonight, I was supposed to be some pissy prick, not escape death from the hands of some scrawny freak.”
“Does—Does it hurt?!”
“It’s not that bad, actually.” Yet, he grunted, “Little fucker,” under his breath as he got to his feet. You followed his lead, still shaken. “It just stings mostly. I’m more worried about the questions someone might ask when they see this,” he gestured to the gash of his ruined shirt, ”but we gotta clean it, babe.”
“We?” Arms crossed beneath your chest, you remembered the things he’d said just moments ago. “Don’t pretend you didn’t just tell me that I’m pointless! Clean it yourself.”
“Hey. Hey,” Billy reached for your arms, gently uncrossing them until your hands were enveloped in his. Somehow even when it was just above fifty degrees, Billy’s body was a furnace that radiated heat. You think it was the anger he could never quite let go of. “I didn’t mean any of it.”
You sheepishly glanced towards the side with puckered lips before you spoke. “You sure you didn’t mean it?”
“Never mean it.” He kissed at your hairline before pulling away.
“Then, why were you being so mean?” you questioned him, still a little insulted.
He sighed and brought you into his side, almost forgetting about the tenderness of his stomach but your were mindful. You knew this trick of his, tucking your head under his chin to hide the plain emotions he failed to bar behind a careless façade.
“Because of my dad… He—uh,“ his adam’s apple bobbed against your temple. “We’re leaving. He’s moving us to Indiana.”
Just when you thought tonight couldn’t get any worse, Billy dropped a bomb on your head.
A/N: You wanted chaotic and I couldn’t think of a more perfect place than 80’s Sunset Strip. Sorry it’s not 100% what you wanted, the story just seemed to go in this direction.
Stranded. She was left stranded with no one to turn to. Cars and trucks lined the driveway and yard as if no border between cement and grass existed, yet not one was for her. No car, no ride, just a house miles away from her own, emitting muffled bass and loud chatter and full of people who suppress the flickers of their snake tongues behind concerned frowns. With no clue as to her best friend’s whereabouts, the side of the wrap around porch had become her oyster.
The glistening tear tracks on her youthful cheeks hadn’t the chance to dry since Steve sauntered up to her and opened his stupid mouth. Talking to her with an intensity that shouldn’t be for two people who hadn’t spoken in over a year. Looking at her with wide brown hues like he did, like he used to do in the space of his bedroom because his parents were never home and he needed to feel wanted.
Too much. It had been too much for her to handle.
The cold bites at her skin and the railing is a little moist underneath her forearm and elbow and against her ribs, even through the material of her dress. Bringing a coat hadn’t crossed her mind while Samantha held makeup brushes against her face nor when their heels clicked against the pavement on their way to Sam’s grey Volkswagen Golf GTI. But, even now, the icy night was the least of her worries.
As she tried to make Steve take a backseat in her thoughts, she focused her attention on more trivial things like how she’d get the invisible stains out of the sleeve of her black gown. It had become the tissue to the stream of her pain and snot, yet rivulets of sticky makeup still managed to sting her kohl-rimmed eyes. Like how there was no leash designed tight enough to control the shaking of her bottom lip, no pair of scissors tough enough to quiet down the whimpers escaping her. She can only imagine what she must look like. How the mere sight of her was enough to frighten someone into a heart attack.
“Stupid Steve,” she spits out of her smeared lips, yet the words are only rubber bullets compared to his lead ones. Even though Steve had put her through hell, she could never sink to that level and hurt him. “Stupid me.”
“Who burst your bubble?”
A husky voice cuts through her pity party, evaporating her sniffles and tightening the leaky faucet that was her orbs. The muscles from her neck to her slender shoulders tensed up, even though the smokey voice behind her was too masculine to be Steve’s.
She was caught, and now heat rose to her very ears. Her palms wiped whatever wetness was felt on her face before turning to see the person behind her.
Oh.
It wasn’t just some drunk fool on the verge of passing out who had stumbled upon her, but the very one her douchebag ex had been warning her about. He exhaled danger with his cigarette hanging from his lip, his earring sparkling from the moon’s reflection, and his glistening pecs and pack of abs on full display for the thirsty girls to launch at. She had never seen him in the action of sizing up his competition, but she’d heard the very stories from Samantha herself and Billy made Steve look like a saint.
And, then the bullshit Steve was spewing to her back inside Tina’s house hit her like an 18-wheeler. This nicotine addicted, rather quiet asshole who spends half his nights fucking blonde bimbos wasn’t just out here for some much needed smoke break. No, he actually sought herout.
It started off as a small giggle that tickled her throat then stretched out into sputtering cackles that filled her belly until she could no longer breathe.
“Oh, that’s too good!” She wipes at the crinkles in the corners of her eyes once she calmed down.
Billy’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “What is?”
She ponders on the question for a moment… and it’s settled. The universe is. The universe was trying to destroy her by trying to gift her with another tool to add to her unwanted collection.
The small smile dribbled down her face and an anchor pulled her dead stare to the floor, at nothing. And, then a spurt of wind brushes through her teased hair. She shuddered, “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”
The view of the vehicle-packed neighborhood calls to her again as her shoulders met the support of the porch’s painted spindle with crossed arms. This time, the tears haven’t got a will to taste freedom. This pain was numbing, and she’d been carrying it’s capacity in her bones, it’s weight in her head. It’s a wonder it hadn’t crushed her ligaments and left her a vegetable yet.
The response of her body as it retreated into itself and her character as it shut itself off, was all too familiar to Billy. He’d been watching it—her staring out their English class window—for five days a week since the first day of the new school year.
Billy soon found his place beside her, leather-clad elbows resting on the railing in front of him, but she didn’t stir. Taking another puff of his warm cigarette, he watched the flames as they burned before he cleared his throat and finally asked her the mystery behind the group of words on the cover of her brutalized notebook.
He tapped the ashes loose from the cancer stick. “So, what’s this Cocteau Twins?”
A small intake of breath stilled in her chest, and she turned to look at him with parted lips and eyes as wide as saucers.
Billy then flicked a curl away from toppling over his smooth forehead before leaning in closer to Y/n, “I hear they’re like all the rage in our English class.”
Patrick Hockstetter x Reader / Billy Hargrove x Reader
Word count: 2107
Summary: You thought people exaggerated when they referred to high school. It wasn’t that bad. It wasn’t bad at all until two guys showed up and decided to ruin your life. But, why you?
You moved past Patrick, into your car before driving off.
They were so shocked as you left, in the rearview mirror you still saw them standing in the exact positions.
You just hoped your message finally got to them.
Now
You hit rock bottom.
You felt like there was no escape, you felt like they had won, you weren’t sure what exactly though.
A couple of hours later there was a knock on your door, and since your parents weren’t home you had to go downstairs and open the door.
What you found shocked you beyond belief. There was Patrick and Billy standing right in front of your door, your first instinct was to close the door back on their faces, but before you could do that they both grabbed the door not allowing you to lock them out.
“We are just here to talk,” said Billy as he pushed the door open just a little more so you can see the both of them again.
“Please.” said Patrick almost with a begging voice. You were done with running, you were done with going away and just ignoring them hoping that they would do the same, so you invited both of them inside.
There was an extremely uncomfortable silence between the three of you.
You all sat by the table, you gave everyone a drink.
“Okay, I’ll start.” said Patrick as he turned to you. “I know I have been an asshole about everything. I flirted with you at first because I thought it was fun. You blushed so easily, and it made me go on. But then I realized I liked you. You are not like the other chicks in school. You are smart.”
“And beautiful.” added Billy which made Patrick roll his eyes.
“Look, what we are trying to say is that we both like you and want to be with you. You just have to pick one of us.” finished Patrick.
You really hoped it would never come down to this. That they would just forget you and move on. They didn’t seem the type to be this committed.
“Pick one of you?” you looked at the two of them in front of you. “Both of you are bad for me. Both of you are players, breaking hearts left and right, what kind of a future would I have with any of you?”
“I had a feeling you would say that.” said Billy as he leaned back in his chair. “But I have seen the way you look at us. Both of us. You like us even if we are bad for you as you said.”
“I’m not denying it Billy. But I don’t plan on becoming another name on any of your lists. Another girl out of the many.” they both rolled their eyes at that. “Don’t act like that! I have been to the girl’s bathroom at school! I heard cries and conversations!”
“But you are different, Y/N. Can’t you see that? I have been chasing after you for over a year before Hargrove even arrived.”
That was true. You did have a couple sincere moments with Patrick before you even knew Billy existed. But it didn’t change the fact that you were scared.
Scared to get used and then they would just throw you away. Scared that you’d fall in love and then get your heart broken and be left on the sidewalk.
You sighed. “Give me time. I need time to think.” you looked at the two and then both gave you a nod before standing up, ready to leave. “Give me a week.” you said, you knew you’d need probably months, but this will do. Both boys then left your home, leaving you to think. You were just surprised none made a scene or demanded you to be quicker. Maybe they were not as bad as you thought in the first place. Bad boys, yes, but they weren’t bad to you.
A week should be enough right? It should be plenty of time to think about which one you’d choose.
Right?
Of course not!
The week went by quicker than any week ever! And you didn’t even have time to think!
There were exams, homework, even your mother asked you for your help more than usual, it was as if the entire world knew that you needed peace and quiet so it decided to not give you that.
During the week all you managed to achieve is that Billy told you that he and Patrick will see you in the park near your home where you can announce your decision and you’d have some privacy there.
So, the night before, you didn’t sleep at all.
That Saturday evening was the worst. You didn’t know any better so you just had a pen and paper in your hands, writing pros and cons for both men. You even thought about not picking any of the two.
But you knew that wasn’t an option.
As you started to really think about everything that had happened, you slowly realized just how much you cared for both of them. Something that you realized a couple of weeks ago, yet you decided to ignore.
The morning arrived way too quickly.
At that point your stomach started to hurt, you were more and more nervous by the second.
Then lunch arrived and you couldn’t wait any longer, you headed to the park. You wanted this to be over with.
As you walked, you thought everything over and over again.
You started to become more and more confident about your decision. You finally felt in control again.
It made you happy.
And as you arrived at the park, you found both of them already sitting at the bench you were supposed to meet at.
When they both noticed you, they smiled. Seeing you in that flowy summer dress was something they both really liked. You felt a slight breeze as you walked towards them, letting it move your hair and dress, you smiled.
Yes, you were happy.
And as you arrived you stopped in front of the two of them. You noticed how well-dressed they both were, it made your heart warm and you weren’t nervous anymore.
A/N:Since I could never decide between these two fine men, I decided to write two different endings. One for Billy and another for Patrick. Both will be completely different and I will upload them at the same time, so it might take longer to write than a normal chapter, so apologies for the wait. And seriously thank you all for your support!
Billy Hargrove x fem!reader, Steve Harrington x fem!reader, Eddie Munson x fem!reader (some Robin Buckley x fem!reader)
Word Count: 2.5k
Warnings: some suggestive dialogue
Author’s Note: before you all ask im not writing a part 2 because then i would have to chose one of them and i REFUSE (billy)
Summary: You’re reallyclose friends with three of the guys from Hawkins High. Also Billy didn’t die in starcourt cause reasons
I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator
(not my gif)
You weren’t sure when you had accumulated the three boys as friends. You hadn’t actively sought out any of them but one day you woke up and you realized the very obvious information. You were friends with Billy andSteveand Eddie. They couldn’t be more different from each other. They couldn’t be further away in groups of friends. Yet somehow you had sparked a conversation with all of them and managed to get them to like you.
It baffled you when you realized it.
But you weren’t complaining.
Billy was smoking. What was once a hobby had become a dependence after Star Court. He had been chain smoking ever since the incident he could barely remember. He didn’t have many of the memories but he sure as hell had the scars to prove it happened. His hair was curled but somewhat matt to his head.
“I hate this job,” he muttered, looking out at the pool.
“Why do you still work here?” you questioned, looking up from your book. You were sitting by the life guards seat to keep him company during his shift. You had offered. You weren’t doing anything and you desperately needed a distraction from the impending adulthood that was looming over your head since graduation.
“Because it pays. And I get to see babes in swimsuits,” he said blankly. He offered you his cigarette which you took and then smashed into the ground beside you. “I wasn’t done with that.”
“Yes you were,” you said, looking back down at your book. He scoffed childishly. You looked back up at him, moving your sunglasses down to get a better look at him. “What are you, twelve?” He stared back down at you and now you were staring into each other’s eyes and you tried to ignore the shiver that was going down your spine.
“I like your swimsuit,” he said smoothly. You flushed, looking away, needingto break eye contact.
“Thanks. I like your lifeguarding outfit.”
“Wish they would just let me go shirtless,” he said off handedly but you could tell he was trying to be sly about it. You and Billy had always flirted but it wasn’t ever going to go any further. You wouldn’t be one of those girls who slept with Hargrove and let him forget she existed. You were forcing yourself to be different.
“You would be oh so distracting to the group of moms,” you said, gesturing to his crowd. They were very poorly acting like they weren’t starring.
“Don’t act like you wouldn’t like to see me half naked for you. You got a toothpick?” You cleared your throat and grabbed a toothpick from your bag, handing it up to him.
“Am I that transparent?” you joked. He half smiled.
“Where were you yesterday?”
“I was with Eddie and the kids. They needed a princess figure,” you explained, kicking your feet in the cool water. He rolled his eyes.
“Nerds.”
No one really knew why Billy liked you around. It annoyed Carol the most who was sitting across the pool with her annoying family. He just wasn’t the type of guy to have girl friends, a harsh space between ‘girl’ and ‘friend’.
You had to have slept together, she decided.
-
Later that week you walked into the video store. You grabbed one of the complimentary lolly pops off the counter and then walked around it, through the employees only sign and into the back of the check out desk. Robin was standing there, pleasantly watching as you pretended to own the place.
“Did we hire you?” she questioned, leaning her arms on the desk behind her.
“Let’s just say yes. Where’s Steve?”
“Probably weeping in the romance section.”
“Stop letting that man in there. There’s only so much mopping up tears we can do as a team Robin.” She smiled slyly, shaking her head.
“I think it’s funny. He keeps showing the girls the shitty ones. They love it.”
“I’m sure they do.”
“What are you doing here?” Steve asked. He was walking out of the romance section which caused you and Robin to share a look. He walked in front of you and leaned against the desk beside Robin. She moved so that you could stand where she was.
“Coming to see my favorite video employee. Robin.”
“Ha ha.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s a pleasure to see you.”
“Oh it always is. I’m fantastic.” You smiled at him and he was smiling back. People liked to say that the best part of Steve was his hair but those people must have never seen his genuine smile. The way it lit up his eyes was unmatched. “Do you have any recommendations for me today Harrington?”
“Always. Robin and I have been watching shitty movies all week. I even saved you a copy of Evil Dead.”
“I’ve seen Evil Dead.”
“I know but I love to watch it with you. Don’t you think Ash and I are similar?”
“One could say that.” You followed him through the stacks. “Simply because you both exude the same dumbass energy.” He was in the romance stacks now and you were following him. You were alone between two stacks that were filled with movie covers that starred people with longing looks. You tried your best to ignore them.
“What have you been up to? I came by yesterday and you were out.”
“I was at the pool.”
“Still babysitting Hargrove?” He didn’t meet your eyes, intentionally staring at the movie covers, scanning for something.
“I was keeping him company. Don’t you worry about it Stevie. We all know you have the best hair around still.”
“I had no doubt about it. I’m legendary for these locks. I forgot what I was looking for.”
“I have that effect on people.”
Robin was kind of sick of staring at the two of you as you walked through the stacks of movies. The way you looked at each other, she had half a mind to smach Steve upside the head for not seeing it. Though, maybe it’s something that’s already happened. She just wished Vickie would look at her like the way Steve looked at you.
-
“Why can’t Nancy drive you?” you asked Dustin who was standing in the doorway of your home. He was accompanied by Mike and Lucas, all three of them wearing matching Hellfire shirts.
“Because she’s busy with the paper,” Mike complained.
“And Steve’s working,” Dustin explained. “Please? It’s too far to bike. There’s a chocolate bar in it for you if you go through with it.” You sighed and rolled your eyes.
“You’re lucky I just got gas.” You grabbed your keys as the boys clapped in excitement. You followed them out to your car and they all piled in so that you could drive them to the school where Eddie and his crew were already waiting to play a campaign. “So this is a big one?”
“One of them,” Lucas explained. “Eddie’s been working on this one for two weeks.”
“He’s a very dedicated man,” you said, pulling out of the driveway.
“You would love it!” Dustin chimed in. “Seriously. You should play with us sometime.” “I don’t know how.”
“We can teach you,” Mike said calmly. He had hopped into the passenger seat while Lucas and Dustin stuck to the backseats. “It’s really simple once you get the hang of it.” You drove them to the school with relative chatter. They explained the rules to you which went directly over your head. But you listened and nodded because the conversation was fun regardless. You arrived at the school soon enough and parked out front. You wanted to say hi to Eddie anyway.
You followed them inside.
The room was set up to the nines. There were props everywhere. Even the lighting was fixed. You could hardly tell this used to be a science classroom just yesterday.
“You’ve arrived!” Eddie exclaimed, sitting at the head of the table. He had his feet up on the table, tossing a dice in the air and catching it again. “And you brought company.” “Hey Eds,” you said smoothly. “I just wanted to see the set up. This looks pretty legit.”
“As legit as it can get!” Eddie stood up quickly and walked over to where you were standing. He put his hand on your back and gestured widley to the table. “This is the kingdom. You know you’re welcome to join anytime. We could use another player.” His touch made you shiver involuntarily. You fought the urge to clear your throat as you stared at him instead of his set up.
“I don’t wanna intrude, especially as a newbie. Plus, I told Steve I would watch a movie with him today. But maybe you could give me some one-on -one lessons sometime Munson.” He smiled, nodding once.
“It would be my honor. Don’t let Harrington keep you too long.”
“Shoo! We’ve got a game to play!” Dustin exclaimed. You raised your hands in surrender.
“Alright alright! Nancy’s picking you guys up yeah?”
“Yeah yeah,” Lucas said, sitting down eagerly.
“It was nice to see you,” Eddie said, removing his hand from your back. You felt the absence.
“And you. Have a wonderful campaign.”
“We will. Keep your schedule open for a one on one.”
Watching you and Eddie made Mike miss El. He had been having some conflicted feelings about her lately but he missed that. The playful joking, the hesitance and the lingering touches.
He wondered if you and Eddie had admitted it to yourselves how you felt.
-
You left the room shortly after and ran right into Nancy.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, holding a stack of papers in her arms. You shrugged.
“I was dropping off your brother and his friends for D&D.”
“Did you see Eddie?” she asked, teasingly. “Or were you maybe on your way to see Steve. Or better yet, to get in the car with Billy.” You rolled your eyes.
“They’re my friends. You have friends. You’re friends with Jake.” “Jake doesn’t look at me like he wants to tear my clothes off.”
“I beg to differ. I think Jake worships you,” you huffed. She smiled knowingly, shaking her head.
“You really don’t know?”
“No Nancy. We’re all just friends.”
“If you were just friends with all of them then I think the school and half of Hawkins would be surprised. I was asked to put a pole on which of them you were actually sleeping with into the paper. I obviously declined. That’s salacious and disgusting.”
“Thank you.”
“But you should know, it’s out there. And they know.” There were some people walking down the hall and she suddenly straightened up. “I have to go. Think about it!” She scurried away. You watched her go, ignoring the pit of nerves in your stomach.
-
Billy didn’t actually know Steve worked at the video shop. He had been completely ignoring the boy where he could. Of course he had heard of your lack of relationship with the former king of Hawkins High. But that day, he wasn’t seeking anythingout.
Surprisingly.
Eddie also was not aware that Steve worked there. More so because he never went to the video store than pure ignorance.
Steve had just emerged from the back room and stood behind the counter, looking down a large stack of things he had to restock. Two stacks to his left was Eddie, browsing the sci fi section. He was trying to decide if picking up Alien again was worth it. A stack to Steve’s right was Billy in the small rack of magazines the store held. He was thumbing through the dirty ones absentmindedly.
He picked one up and took it to the counter. He thought about swiping it but decided to be good today so that he could come back another day. He put it down and looked up at Steve who met his eyes from behind the stack of videos.
“Harrington.”
“Billy.”
Eddie, clueless, walked behind them and got in line with Alien. He was kind of jazzed about it until he raised his head.
“Eddie?” Steve asked. Billy turned around.
“You’re Eddie? You look like a hippie,” Billy muttered, suddenly needing a cigarette. “I expected glasses.”
“Wait, are you Billy? Lifeguard Billy?” Eddie questioned. “I’ve only heard the legends. Like you and every single girl to ever walk this Earth.”
“Oh my count isn’t nearly as high as Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington’s,” Billy promised through gritted teeth.
The elephant in the room was plainly clear but none of them were willing to bring you up.
“Hey Y/N just called and said you should put Evil Dead on hold…for her..” Robin said, trailing off as she watched the interaction happen. She cleared her throat. “She’s coming by soon.”
“How soon?” Steve asked, eyes remaining on the side of Billy’s head.
“Like five minutes out she said,” Robin said awkwardly. A man got in line behind Eddie, prompting Steve to take Billy’s magazine and ring him up.
“You should get lost before she comes,” Steve said lowly. Billy raised an eyebrow.
“Harrington, you’ve already lost this fight. You remember the Byers house right?”
“I have plans with her later anyway,” Eddie said, putting his movie down jaunty. “Maybe you should both just can it. Wanna smoke?” Eddie pulled out a cigarette, the same brand Billy smoked. He almost coughed in his face, seething.
“I can help the next person over here,” Robin called, waving the customer down so that the guys could have their moment.
“Stay away from her,” Billy said to no one in particular. “We all know I win this fight.”
“Sometimes brawn doesn’t beat brain. Or lack thereof,” Eddie suggested, leaning against the counter cooley.
“Well I bet you don’t get called pretty boy now do you,” Steve asked then wondered if he was being too harsh.
You opened the door and assessed the situation immediately. Not sure how to handle it, you stared at Robin, who was staring at you.
Instead of facing thatup you slowly backed out of the door.
Warnings: STRANGER THINGS SEASON 4 SPOILERS, depression, grief, death, guilt tripping
Author’s Note: hello all. I am devastated. Why cant i just have my snarky asshole back :( shout out to eddie for being some nice relief both in this fic and in the show lmao
Summary: you are haunted by billys death in a unique way
Genre: angst :(
I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator
(not my gif)
Sometimes when you woke up, you were light. You couldn’t feel the weight of the world on top of you yet. You just were staring at the ceiling, blissfully ignorant to any knowledge of devastation.
And then you would remember.
Every single morning you went through the news of Billy’s death again. After the ten seconds had passed you were suddenly hit with the moment all over. His face as he went, the chill in the air, the bleeding, the screams, the muffled world. Then the weight was back on your chest.
It was the worst part of your day.
Sitting in the gym you were starting to wonder if instead thiswould be the worst part of your day.
“We need to remember Billy,” Jason Carver said, voice ridiculously serious. It felt like the whole room had their eyes on you even though realistically you knew that wasn’t true. You were sitting beside Max who shifted uncomfortably. You were only here to support Lucas. You graduated last year. “And chief of police Jim Hopper.”
Your head was hurting. You could hear the music in Max’s walkman playing clearly. She was in the middle of a Kate Bush phase. You didn’t blame her. If there was ever music to help you get over your brother’s death, it was captured in Kate Bush’s emotions somewhere. You tried to ignore Jason as he kept speaking.
“He’s a shitty basketball player too,” Max muttered.
“Everyone’s shitty when you compare it to Billy and his defense,” you said back, rolling your eyes at the memory. He was an asshole on the court but it won more games than Hawkins had ever won. “Do you want me to come by tonight?” you asked her.
“If you wanna. I doubt I’ll be very entertaining.”
“It’s alright.” You shrugged. “I’m too tired to be entertained.”
You and Max hadn’t been close before Billy died. After, she was all you had of him and you were all she had of him. You had practically attempted to murder Neil when he left you were so angry at his grief. He didn’t get to be depressed about this when all he did was torment Billy when he was alive.
“We can have pizza,” she suggested.
“Sounds like a plan.”
-
Max had given you some of Billy’s things. Susan didn’t want to keep anything when they moved so you had taken to wearing his denim jacket. It had stopped smelling like him ages ago but the cigarette burns never really healed. You messed with one of them as you stared forward into the trailer park. You were messing with a cigarette. You didn’t smoke but you liked to light them and stand outside. It gave you privacy.
Max had fallen asleep a half hour before. The lights were on in the trailer directly across from hers. You flicked at the ashes as you watched Eddie Munson emerge from his home. Smoke seemed to follow him as he coughed loudly, walking messily. You watched, curiously, as he tried to open his car door and then paused. He thought about it and then sat down on the ground.
You scoffed. What was his deal?
“Hey! Hey!” he called. You rolled your eyes. You hadn’t meant for him to see you. He scrambled up and walked over to you. “Do you have a light? I left mine in my car and shit knows where my keys are.” He stopped a few feet from you. You looked down at your cigarette, knowing it was obvious you couldn’t turn him down. You sighed and took out your lighter from your jacket pocket and handed it to him.
“Here.”
“You’re a lifesaver,” he said, sighing. He took it from you and your fingers brushed. You cleared your throat, teetering back and forth on your feet. He took out a smoke and lit it, wrapping his hand in it, holding it up with his pinky in the same way Billy used to do it. With the dark of the night and his hair, you could almost pretend he was Billy for a moment. “What are you doing at the Mayfields?”
You shrugged.
“Family friend.”
He nodded slowly.
“Well thanks for this. I owe you one!” he exclaimed, clearly high on something. You smiled once and took your lighter back. He waved as he walked back. You closed your eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath.
“Billy would’ve hated him,” you muttered to yourself and laughed dryly. You tossed the non smoked cigarette on the ground and stepped on it, turning around to walk back in the house to say goodbye to Max.
A shadow seemed to go over the night. You turned around, confused and looked up at the sky. It had been a clear night just a moment ago.
“Y/N.” You jumped at the voice, turning back to the field.
“Eddie?” you called, even though you recognized the voice. But it couldn’t be. Obviously not. “This isn’t funny.’
You walked into the field between the trailers.
“Come here sweets.” You shivered at the voice, feeling your heart break a little in your chest.
“Billy?” you whispered. His voice seemed to echo in the outside space. You walked to the edge of the woods, turning your head aggressively, trying to find the source of the voice.
There was a clock. Between two trees, blocking the void of darkness. It chimed and ticked quietly. You stood a couple of feet away from it, trying to figure out what was going on. Your mind was racing and the fluctuation of your emotions wasn’t helping your case.
“Y/N.” You turned around, feeling breath on your back.
And there he was.
Billy.YourBilly. The one you saw in the morning before he could antagonize anyone. The Billy that used to buy you milkshakes and wait for you by his car after school and close down the locker rooms when you were changing at the pool.
His hair was curled to perfection. His lips were slightly parted. He had on a white undershirt and his jeans. You were too stunned to think.
“Billy?” you whimpered. “How-”
“How could you let this happen?” he asked. Your brows furrowed into confusion.
“What?”
“You stood there and you watched me die. You let me die. You let me die.” You shook your head.
“That’s not true. I was trying to help. I grabbed the fireworks and I fought the damn thing and I ran to you. I did everything I could.” “But you weren’t with me that day I crashed my car. You let this happen to me.”
Like a timelapse his skin started to become filled with protruding veins. His hair was damp now, his shirt soaked with sweat. He was walking towards you and you were backing up.
“I didn’t know-”
“But you did. You know that somewhere in you, you were gladto be rid of me. Glad you could move on. Glad you weren’t being held back.”
“No. That’s not true. Billy, I loveyou.”
Your back hit the clock and you turned around quickly.
Then it was all gone. You turned back around and Billy wasn’t there anymore. Your chest was rising and falling quickly, panicked tears starting to escape your eyes. You grabbed your stomach, trying to rationalize what the hell was happening.
“Hey are you okay?” Eddie called. He was walking towards you but you hadn’t seen him leave his trailer. “You were just kinda standing. Did you take something?”
“No,” you said, too quickly, voice blocked by tears. “I’m fine.”
“Woah, clearly not.”
“I’m okay I just…thought I saw something.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t drive home. You can stay with the Mayfields right?” You nodded quickly, trying to slow your breathing.
“Yeah. Good idea.”
“Can I walk you inside?” You nodded, taking his hand. He walked you to the door and you were trying to hold back sobs. You opened the front door and he smiled weakly, just trying to help.
“Thanks Eddie.”
“Hey I said I owed you one. Try and uh…sleep. You don’t look so good.”
“I will. Thank you. Goodnight.” You shut the door gently on him, trying not to see Billy in his hair or in his hands. You stumbled into Max’s small space. You sat on the bed beside her sleeping body. You stared at the picture of Billy and her and you on her bedside table. And you cried.
So, I’m kinda obsessed with stranger things… I feel like making a series(a LOOONG ass one) where reader is in the story and has powers.
So you know how like we have a few numbers already? Reader could be seven, (since we don’t know that number yet) whereas we already know one, six, eight, 9 and 9.5, And Elleven
The power I have in mind is like a Boogie Man power of sorts, where reader can manipulate shadows and use them to create monsters of fear that can shift and change based on the person being attacked by them into what they fear most. (Kinda like a pennywise power)
I’m kinda leaning towards a slight Billy x Reader thing but if you have any ideas please let me know.
you sat with your back against Billy on his bed. it was a calm Saturday which the two of you had spent in his room. Neill and Susan were on a trip and Max was out with friends so the two of you had the house all to yourself. right now Billy was sitting with his back against his headboard and with your back to his chest.
he watched with admiration as you took a puff from the blunt he just rolled and lit. he had suggested that the two of you should get high and, much to his surprise, you agreed. he had briefly gotten up from his bed to grab his weed and had rolled it into a blunt. it was clear that he had done this before. he had lit it and taken a puff before passing it onto you. after you took a hit yourself you passed it back to Billy and settled further into him. almost immediately the two of you felt the relaxing effect of the drug.
before long the blunt was done and the two of you were high as fuck. from experience you gained at parties you knew that Billy got horny when he is high. this gave you an idea. you turned around and startled his lap. a lazy smirk immediately covered his lips as he knew what you were up to. before he had the chance to do anything though you smashed your lips against his. you both moaned as Billy deepened the kiss, a strong hold on your hips. your hand flew yo his hair and started lightly tugging on it. you started grinding your hips against him as the making out became more intense. he groaned against your lips as he felt his dick grow hard.
pulling away from your lips “we should to this more often” Billy said breathlessly.
“yeah” you said in a breathy voice before kissing him again.
… Being elevens older sibling which was also experimented on. you quickly grow close to the party. through hanging out with them you eventually meet Billy. he takes an interest into you immediately and starts flirting with you. the kids and Steve immediately intervene to make sure that Billy doesn’t get anywhere close to you. Billy being Billy he finds a way to talk to you and through the small conversations you end up falling in love with him.
Summary: A search for the truth is underscored by a scorching summer fling with Billy Hargrove. Hot. Sweat-slicked skin. Feral.
Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader
Warnings:Language.Smut. Mild violence. A little horror. Underage drinking and smoking. Teenage Angst. Fluff.
A/N:@geminimoonbeamx and I wrote a joint story about a pair of readers who have their own experiences with the cursed town of Hawkins. Check out her page to read her Steve Harrington x Plus-size!Reader story!
Dazed & Confused, the Steve Harrington x Plus Size Cheerleader! Reader portion will be dropping tomorrow.
This feels very surreal, we’ve been working on this story for about a year and a half now. We’re so excited for you guys to come on this journey to the upside down with us.
“Language!” Your father yells, peeking his head out of the front door.
“Sorry,” You drop your head, watching your feet as you walk back to the door, stopping before you walk in and turning to Max. You open your mouth, but before you say anything you shake your head and walk inside closing the door tightly behind you.
“What’s going on young lady?” Dad asks, eyebrows raised and arms folded across his chest. “I’ve never heard you use words like that.”
“Just frustrated and tired, it won’t happen again, I promise.”
“I doubt that,” He chuckles, “Just watch what you say around your mother, you know how she gets.” His eyes widen dramatically as he pats your shoulder and walks past you.
Your parents are polar opposites and most days you wonder how in the world they have been together. Your dad is laid back and goofy, and always was, as he would say ‘the class clown of Hawkins High’ which your mother would agree was a fact and likely holds the record. Your dad is also a hard-working business man outside of the home. He is basically an older, male version of his sister, Lottie.
Your mother is kind, but no-nonsense woman with a love of literature and sewing, which is probably where you got your determination for doing well in classes and love for reading. Your parents purchased an old video store in which they turned into a bookstore that your mother has been managing for the past four years. You normally work there during the summers to help out, but once you graduate, you’ve agreed to take over the bookstore as she has grown tired of it. She is the kind of mother that would sing lullabies and bake cupcakes for your class, but would also ground you for a week for getting a ‘C’ on a spelling test. She would set up beautiful parties for your birthday, but leave someone else to watch over you and your friends.
“…Y/n?” Your dad’s voice calls out from behind you.
“Yeah?” You turn to face him.
“You having trouble with that Hargrove kid?” He asks, eyebrow raised.
“Kind of, but it’s nothing that I cannot handle.” You shrug it off. “Thanks, Dad.”
“You let me know if you need me to…” He draws his finger across his throat as he crosses his eyes and sticks out his tongue.
“You’ll have to get in line behind Gary and Lottie.”
“Hey, I’m your dad, I think I deserve first in line.” He playfully boxes the air.
“I love you, Dad.” You laugh, wrapping your arms around him in a hug.
“I love you too, kiddo.” His deep chuckles vibrate his chest. “Now you better go make sure you have everything together for school tomorrow.”
***
At school the next day you are walking the hallways with Angie, books held tight to your chest as the two of you walk to your class together. She’s going on about her boyfriend, Joseph, who moved an hour away for college and how he is going to be back in town this week as college classes had just ended for the summer. She’s ecstatic because they actually get to spend some quality time together, especially with the school year coming to an end in a week and a half.
“…And his cousin Davey, the hot one, is going to be staying with him for a week or two and Joe said Davey thinks you’re cute. You should go to Vickie’s party with Davey on Wednesday.” Angie rambles.
“Wait, Angie is having a party in the middle of the week?” You ask, confused.
“Oh, yeah! Thursday is senior skip day. You think your mom’ll let you skip?”
“Mom would rather walk through hell in heels before she lets me skip school after being suspended.” You scoff. “I may be able to get away with going to the party and work something out with Dad, he’d understand.”
“I would die if you couldn’t!” Angie says dramatically.
“Angela, we are in English not theatre, please tone it down and take your seat.” Mr. Jordan glares over the thick brim of his glasses.
“Tone it down and take your seat. Blah, blah, blah.” She mocks him under her breath as the two of you walk to your normal seats.
The class slowly fills and right before the bell signals the start of class, Billy strolls in smirk playing across his face eating up all the attention from being back to school after being suspended. The popular, empty-headed girls warmly welcome him, calling him to a spot they save especially for him. As he stalks up to them, he glances over at you, face unreadable. It feels like the two of you are caught in a staring battle before one of the girls break it by grabbing Billy by the shirt and pulling him into the seat next to her.
“What was that about?” Angie leans across the aisle and whispers.
“I told you we aren’t on the best of terms right now. He’s just trying to intimidate me.” You open up your book.
“Y/n, that wasn’t a ‘fuck you’ look, but a ‘I want to fuck you’ look.” Angie nudges you, eyebrows raised.
“Whatever.” You scoff quietly.
“Y/n, you’ve just returned to school after your lengthy suspension, is being in my class today an issue?” Mr. Jordan call out in front of the class.
“No, sir.” You shake your head.
“And I trust you can act like a proper lady in the class room and keep quiet?” He looks down at you, arms folded across his chest.
“Yes, sir.” You say simple, biting your tongue in order to refrain from calling him out for talking to you like that.
“Thank you.” He smirks, turning back to the chalkboard.
With your head ducked like a scolded puppy, you glance over at Angie who mouths a guilty ‘sorry’ and you catch Billy looking at you, small smirk playing at his lips. You want to smack that smirk right off his devilishly handsome face. You want to not think he is so handsome, that his lips are so soft and kissable. You sigh, looking back at the chalkboard and your teacher accepting the idea that today is going to suck.
Class continues per usual, Mr. Jordan going on about whatever the hell he is talking about, normally you’d be paying attention, eating up every bit of knowledge that comes from his mouth, but you find yourself zoning out, staring down at your hands and just letting the world continue without you, until Angie nudges you with wide eyes, nodding toward the front of the class.
“Please bring your brain back to Earth, Ms. Y/L/N. Also if I could have you and Mr. Hargrove speak with me after class, I have some things to discuss.” Mr Jordan says with that normal sour-look on his face.
“Yes, Mr. Jordan. My apologies.” You nod, tucking your hands under the desk and tuning into what he is saying, despite the fact that it’s just going through one ear and out the other.
When the bell rings you hang back, slowly gathering your things and standing up to walk to Mr. Jordan’s desk in the front once everyone has filed out and to their next class. Billy slowly swaggers over, a look of disinterest on his face and a subtle glare at you before Mr. Jordan speaks.
“I received your final project while the two of you were out suspended. You had another week to work on it are you sure you are ready for it to be graded?” He asks.
“Yes sir, we worked hard on the project while we were out and I made sure to triple-check it before turning it in.” You nod, refusing to look at Billy as you hold your books close.
“Okay, I just wanted to make sure I spoke with you and give you the opportunity before moving forward. Another thing I wanted to mention is the fact that the two of you were suspended and now you are at school, make sure your brains are on the work and not each other.”
“Sir, I know I was a little distracted today, but it has nothing to do with Mr. Hargrove.” You defend yourself, but Billy stays quiet.
“Please, Ms. Y/L/N, I am not a fool.” He shakes his head and nods to the door. “The two of you received a 96% on the project. Now I will see you both here and mentally ready for class tomorrow.”
“Absolutely, thank you!” You smile wide and turn, exiting the class.
“Absolutely, thank you.” Billy mocks after the two of you make it into the hallway. “Why are you avoiding me Y/L/N?”
“Oh no stupid nickname? Why the hell have you been avoiding me, Hargrove?” You whip around, eyebrows furrowed and jaw set.
“What gives you that idea?” He chuckles, leaning against some lockers.
“Oh I don’t know, maybe playing drag race on our street every time you see me. Can’t get away from me quick enough? It doesn’t matter anyway, we have no reason that we need to associate with each other anymore so don’t worry about it.” You go to turn around but he catches you by the arm.
“What are you doing Wednesday?” He asks in a low, sultry voice.
“Besides school, I have plans and you aren’t part of it. The only reason I talked to you that day in the first place was because Max asked me to. I was civil with you because we had a project together-”
“Is that what you call making out and wearing my clothes?” He cuts you off.
“I have no desire to speak with you about this anymore or at all. So fuck completely off.” You turn around so quickly you’re surprised that you didn’t give yourself whiplash and march over to Angie who is waiting at your locker, eyes wide.
“Well shit.” She says astonished.
“Tell Davey I’m excited to see him again.” You shove your books in your locker and slam it closed before walking to your next class.
A/N: Want to be tagged in this series, send me an ask (or message)!
Summary: Billy was trouble from the moment his Camaro tires crossed the city lines and you weren’t looking to get into the kind of trouble Billy Hargrove brought to the table, so you stayed out of each other’s ways, not even sparing a sideways glance… until now.
You ran over an alien. No, it couldn’t have been that. That was a dog you hit. Should you investigate it? Maybe it’s best to pretend it never happened and talk to the cute boy who eyes you at Scoops Ahoy.
@geminimoonbeamx and I created a joint story about a pair of readers who travel down two separate forks in the road and discover their own truths about Hawkins. And maybe kiss a few boys along the way.
Warnings: Lots of smut. Teenage angst. Drama. Swearing. Underage drinking and smoking. Mild violence.
Pick your reality:
Reality Bites: Dazed & Confused – Steve Harrington x Plus-size!Reader - Aliens may not be real, but Steve Harrington kissing your anxieties away is very, very real. Passionate. Lipstick smeared kisses. Dreamy.
Reality Bites: Cruel Summer – Billy Hargrove x Reader - A search for the truth is underscored by a scorching summer fling with Billy Hargrove. Hot. Sweat slicked skin. Feral.
Updated on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. Drop a message below if you’d like a tag. Separate story masterlists coming 6/7 and 6/8.
I’m not really on here anymore, but my girl @allaboardthereadingrailroad has been working so hard on this story with @geminimoonbeamx and it is so exciting to see the announcement.
If you love Stranger Things. If you love brilliant writing. If you love creative, never-done-before ideas. If you love inclusive reader inserts.
Summary:You meet Billy during summer, and the deal was to have a good time before the season is over, before you go back home. But what if the only thing you’re scared of - love - starts to flourish?
Tomorrow this time, you’ll be in a plane, flying away from California. Away from him.
Billy was supposed to be just a fling, someone to hang around and have a good time with. Looking out the window, you recognize the familiar Camaro even in the darkness. Bily is so much more. You didn’t want to fall, but what could you do? He was like a fever dream in the quiet of the night, and you caught it. The perfect bad boy should be just a new shiny toy with a price.
But he’s so much more. He’s killing you slowly, down there standing next to his car, out the window, always waiting below. Biting your lip, you catch his eyes, the wink he send your way making you smile. Taking a deep breath, and with the usual burning sensation in your stomach, you push the window open, using the ladder you placed next to it to climb down.
It’s always like this. You come back home, just to sneak out again. Devils roll the dice, angel roll their eyes, and there you go, for another night in his arms.
“Come! Come!” He suddenly whisper-yells, and you increase your pace as he does the same, going to the driver’s seat.
“(Y/N)!” You hear your father’s thunder voice, and it makes you rush inside the car, pulling the door close. “What the hell do you think you’re going with this lowlife?”
“Drive!” You tell him, but you’re still speaking when he speeds away, a laugh escaping your lips. Looking back, you see your father taking a few steps forward, gesturing and yelling something you can’t hear.
“He’s gonna be mad,” Billy warns you.
“What doesn’t kill me makes me want you more.” You tell him winking with a bright smile, the adrenaline making you breathe fast. “Where are we going?”
“I wanna show you a special place.” He gives you a look, and you don’t quite understand.
“Why is it special, Billy?” For some reason, your voice comes out a little weak, as you try to push back the only thing that’s in your head.
The sirens, the warning signs you’ve been ignoring until now.
This is the last day.
This is the last time you’ll get to see Billy. Touch him. Kiss him.
You shouldn’t feel like this. It was obvious you’d end up missing him, like you’ll miss Heloise, Nathan, Mike, all the friends you made here. But this is different.
Love wasn’t the point here. Love was the only thing that couldn’t happen. Not like this, not when you’ll have to leave. But summer is a knife, and it cuts to the bone.
“(Y/N)?”
“Huh?” You mutter, looking through the window and wiping the tears away. You didn’t even notice you were crying.
“Hey.” He touches your thigh, but you can’t look at him. “Why are you crying? Wasn’t it good? The time we spent together?”
“Of course.” You’re quick to admit. The time you’re spent with Billy was amazing. And for that same reason, you feel your heart breaking. It feels like you can’t breathe, like there’s a weight on your chest, pressing your lungs. You’re bleeding, but he will be the last to know. “You gave me exactly what I wanted. We had a nice time, no strings attached and-” Clearing your throat, you take a deep breath. “-and I will certainly miss you.”
“I will miss you too. Very much.”
“Yeah. But you’ll find some other girl and then, well, you’ll be just fine.” Pushing his hand away, you keep looking away. “And so will I.” That’s not true. That’s very far from the truth. He stops the car, and by what you can see from the surroundings, it’s a cliff. You can hear the waves crashing down there, violently, as the night takes over, the last traces of the day vanishing.
“(Y/N), please, don’t do this. It’s our last day together.” There’s something in his voice too. Sadness? Maybe. He’s probably a little touched by your state. “Talk to me. Tomorrow morning I’ll leave you one block away from your house and I’ll have to watch you walk away for the last time.” He steps out of the car, pushing the door quite violently.
Gasping, you bite your lip. This isn’t how it was supposed to be. Today was supposed to be amazing. Now it’s ruined, because of you. Maybe you should’ve kept your mouth shut, to have him for one last time, all smirks and laughter. But you don’t want to keep secrets just to keep him. Holding your breath, the anger, mixed with way too many feelings to describe, you get out as well, pushing the door close just as violently as he did. “What do you want me to say?” You suddenly yell, many tears rolling down this time. There’s no way to hide it now, you’re crying like a baby. “That I snuck through the garden gate every night this summer to seal my fate?” Walking over him, you keep your hair away from your face when the wind pushes it against you.
“Only yours?” He snaps back, furrowing his eyebrows. “Stop acting like you’re the only one suffering.”
“Oh, yeah.” Throwing a hand in the air, you pace around, running a hand through your hair. “You just had a good time, Billy. But I? I got used to the shape of your body. You’re eyes, blue. So damn blue, Billy. How am I ever going to look at the ocean again without thinking of you?” The words just flow out, and you’re seeing everything blurry, a lump in your throat making it hard to keep your voice straight. “And I told myself this is cool. That we have no rules in our personal, breakable heaven, bound to break apart. With a goddamn expiration date.”
“You–”
“It was amazing, yes. It was freaking amazing, but it has been a cruel summer with you, Billy Hargrove.” Cutting him off, you move to stand right in front of him, looking up into those eyes you’ll never forget, letting him see your tear-stained face. “I love you.” You scream for whatever it’s worth, the one sentence that has been terrifying you. But it doesn’t matter. You’re leaving anyway, it won’t change anything. Then you step back, look down and once again wipe the tears away. Breathing a little, trying to calm yourself down. “Ain’t that the worst you ever heard?” This last part comes out a whisper, barely heard above the wind.
“Definitely.” He mumbles, and when you look up, he’s grinning.
“What–” You’re cut short by a sudden motion, when he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you against his chest, placing a kiss on your lips.
It tastes salty from all your tears, but you don’t care. You just throw your arms around his neck and deepen the kiss, holding him. Because that’s the last time you’ll do it.
He only pulls away when the air is short, but he keeps you close, secure in his embrace. “Billy, I–”
“Don’t go.” He whispers, his chest vibrating. “Please.”
Shaking your head, you pull away, just enough to look up at him again. “You know I can’t, Billy.”
“Why?” With a hand on your face, you can understand what’s in his eyes now. Desperation, fear… And love. It makes you furrow your eyebrows, wondering if this could really be. If Billy Hargrove could have fallen for you. “You don’t like living with your father, you don’t like living with your mother. You don’t wanna be a lawyer. Stay here, with me. Take that photography course and you’ll have lots of jobs. This place is bursting with tourists, and you’d make enough money to get your life started.”
Everything he says makes you cry again. But this time, it’s because you’re imagining it. Living in California, building an actual home, doing something you love. It’s paradise. “I-it’s a lot of work, Billy. I-I’d have to pay rent and–”
“I’m asking you to move in with me.” He says with a giggle, his forehead touching yours. “I fell in love with you during summer… And all summers end, but I don’t want us to end. I tried so hard not to because I knew you’d leave, but… It happened. You stole my heart and I can’t lose you. I don’t know if someone can die from a lost love but I don’t wanna find out.” Billy speaks his heart, and you’re holding his shirt, like holding on to dear life. “You can leave and go on with an unhappy life, forever scared of love. Or you can stay with me, and let me show you what love truly is. It’s real, and we’ve been living it.”
“Billy…” You beg, closing your eyes, your own heart claiming, begging, pleading for him.
“We’re not going to make your parent’s mistakes. We’ll make it right, you and I. Please, (Y/N).” With a finger under your chin, Billy makes you look at him, so you open your eyes. “Don’t leave me. Don’t throw away a chance of happiness for a miserable life.”
He’s right. Billy is so damn right, and having this, knowing this, that he wants you, that he loves you, you know you can’t do it. You can’t go back. Not when you can stay with the man you love, <who loves you>, in the city you also fell in love with. “All my stuff is packed up.” You mutter, chuckling lightly. “We just need to go get it.”
“A-are you for real?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you going to stay?”
“Yeah!” You jump on him, legs wrapping around his waist. Billy is quick to hold you up, his lips crashing on yours.
And it’s perfect. The wind, the waves, the view of the city down there. And Billy, kissing you, holding you. You wouldn’t change a thing about it.
Soon enough you’re back home, and it’s a mess. As you run upstairs with Billy to get your things, your father says that if you do this, you’ll be dead to him. But you don’t even answer. The only thing you do is hug your stepmother, and whisper in her ear the name of the lover your father had here, and advise her to divorce him. Then, you’re out.
On the next day, in the evening, you’re not in a plane with your heart broken, flying away. You’re in Billy’s arms, watching an awful movie that only makes you laugh. Summer is almost over, but other summers will come. And you want to have Billy for all the seasons.
“Billy.”
“Yes, princess?” He asks, placing a kiss on your shoulder. You’re the little spoon on usual, your back pressed against his chest.
“I think it’s gonna rain later today.”
“…Alright?” He chuckles, and so do you at his confusion. “And what about that?”
“I wanna you to kiss me in the rain.” The mention of the cliche makes you blush, but since you’re looking away, he won’t notice.
“I’m down for it, but…” Billy makes you turn around, thumb and index finger under your chin. “…Only in the rain?”
“When it rains. When it’s sunny.” Turning your body completely towards his, you wrap your arms around his neck. “During the day, and during the night. On every season.”
“Mmm… Sounds like the perfect idea.” And once again, he kisses you. And as it is every time, you feel that familiar, delicious burning sensation in your stomach.
You’re his, and he is yours. Love is real, and this summer was the best summer of your life. Until now, because you’re sure the next ones will be far better.
