𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒓𝒔: 𝒃𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒉.
back to hyperfixating on my beloved, billy, once more and found an unfinished story i wrote back in 2019 but never finished. this being said, this is part one of idek bc i'm editing everything currently because i want to make it more heartbreaking. lol. i ALSO promise, pinky swear, this fic is actually finished!! LMFAOO. i just am editing it currently and hoping to have the full story done by the end of this month or the first of next month! i would've posted all in one story (and i probably will on ao3!) but it's TOO long, i'm afraid, for just one tumblr post, so!!
this also being said, this is not a story with a happy ending. so, just a heads up, lol.
ALSO IMPORTANT NOTE: this story is loosely based off of that one prompt where you live in a black & white world and once you meet your soulmate, everything turns into color! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)
TW: Very angsty. I'm talking about mommy issues, daddy issues, drug abuse, mentions of self harm, physical abuse and emotional.
Billy was the kid who didn't believe in anything. Santa Claus, the tooth fairy, Easter bunny, so on and so on. You get the idea. Once his mother left, Billy stopped believing in happily ever after's, too. Stopped believing in the idea of having a soulmate. No such thing existed. He was determined to be alone. He'll never find love, no matter how hard he looked.
Besides, what good was 'love' anyways? If his own mother—the one who brought him into this world, the one who carried him for 9 months in her stomach—could so easily leave him behind without a care in the world, who else would stick by his side?
Who could love him when his own mother had stopped? When his own mother got up and left so easy as if he was nothing? And maybe, just maybe... he was nothing. A nobody.
He remembers the day as if it happened yesterday. His mother called—she always did on Tuesday and Thursday nights—and he answered it with a smile, finding comfort in the sound of her voice. The smile, as quick as it was to appear, falls into a frown just as fast.
"I don't understand. Why not? Please, Mom... don't do this. Please, come home.... No, how long? How long!? I miss you...."
Regular Tuesday and Thursday calls eventually became one call before they stopped all together. He'd stay awake, attention glued onto the phone that lay next to him on the nightstand. He did this for God only knows how long until he felt pathetic and gave up one night, finally rolling over to face the wall and if it weren't for the tears that streamed down his face, Billy was sure he wouldn't have had any sleep at all or been able to get rest.
Not once did he ever receive a visit from her, too.... Which was to be expected, as she didn't answer any of the questions he had asked that day. But poor Billy still had hope. He believed she'd come back for him. He believed she was going to come by and they were to get away and be happy. That day never did come. She never did come back. She left without even saying so much as a goodbye. No goodbye call. Billy wasn't even worth the few cents for a letter to be sent to him. Wasn't worth the price of a goddamn stamp. Nothing.
The smile, from that day forward, was hardly ever seen on Billy Hargrove's face. If you ever did see a smile sprawled out onto his face, more than likely, it was a fraud. He was good at playing pretend. He had to be or else he'd break down completely and he's worked hard to build this 'tough guy' persona, okay?
Billy wasn't going to give that up so easily nor did he want others to know he, beneath all the layers of leather and denim, hidden behind cheap booze and even cheaper cigarettes, there was actually a good and loving guy with a heart. Perhaps a broken, damaged heart but... one, nevertheless. No. That wasn't who Billy Hargrove was. Not anymore. The day he left California to go to a shit town in Indiana called 'Hawkins', he decided he was going to change. Usually people change for the better but not him. He was going to cause chaos since that's all he knows, it's all he knew.
Billy drinks to forget. Started at a young age, that bad habit of his. He would always sneak into his dad's bedroom after his old man would be passed out, an empty beer bottle in his own hand and Billy would take the snores that left his dad's lips as a sign it was good to go, took it as a green light to go on a little heist.
He'd tip-toe into the back of his dad's room, digging through dirty clothes and Playboy magazines and when he did find the cases of beer, he'd grab as much as he could from the mini fridge that was hidden there, carrying out at least as many bottles he could get away with. As soon as he'd get back to his bedroom, he'd open the bottles with a lid opener—one he also stole from his father—and start to drink, one after another. Getting drunk was better than feeling numb and empty. When he drank, he felt happy. He was also relaxed, calm. Growing up, Billy didn't understand why his father drank as much as he did. Now, he understood... unfortunately.
Adults bought different various of items at the store, all of which contained the same item, despite what object they're scanning away on the convertor belt; one thing he was certain of—happiness came in the shape of a bottle. Finding ways to be happy was always different.
Some of which were bottles that people would pour down their throats as though it was water that was inside the glasses. There were some people that smoked weed, nice and easy puffs, a gentle and nice high. Others would roll up dollar bills and a white powdery substance would be placed in front of them for them to snort.
And of course, there was others who did even harder, harsher drugs. Another version was renting out a motel room—roaches, black mold and all, it didn't matter—and having a secret affair, despite you and your wife (or you and your husband) being high school sweethearts.
But in the end, it didn't matter, right? Nothing fucking mattered. In the end, we're all simply just human beings, trying to find things that make us happy, make us feel alive. Even if it kills our relationship's, friendships or even ourselves. This feeling was so hard to reach, let them enjoy it, despite the poison they're putting in their bodies, despite the harm they're inflicting on themselves.
A few hours of being drunk and holding onto that little feeling of joy was better than feeling depressed all the time. We were all just trying to be happy. Trying to be okay in a fucked up, dull and depressing world. We were all just trying to be okay, even if we are far from it.
This was Billy's way of thinking. It wasn't the best motto to live by, sure, but he followed it, regardless. And so far, it worked. Until he met her.
It's been this way ever since his mom left. Of course, his mom wasn't his soulmate, get your mind out of the gutter. However, the moment she officially walked out of his life, the colors seemed to lose their vibrancy, their spark. It wasn't as bright as it was, once upon a time ago.
Over time, as sad and as unfortunate as it may sound, he got used to it. Billy got used to living in a gray world with only hints of red and maybe some green hues surrounding him. Even then, however, he'd still sit around impatiently, eyes darting every which way, trying to get a glimpse of whatever color he could try and seek out—besides the obvious dark grey and pale white. He never found it. Billy had lost hope, as mentioned before but goddammit, he was trying to hold on as best as he could to getting a happy ending. He was trying not to lose hope, trying his hardest not to give up. Billy also tried his hardest not to punch any of his fellow classmates when they'd announce they're seeing color, thus leaving their two colored world behind to a world full of colors.
Half of the time, the students yelled this randomly in the middle of class and a lot of people would erupt in giggles and smiles would be quick to appear, everyone would shout 'congratulations', even the teacher. Billy would sink lower in his seat, arms folding across his chest as he'd focus on anything other than the person that found their soulmate. Once the bell would go off, announcing it was time to move on and go to another class, Billy would be the first one to exit the door, not daring to look back even when the teacher yelled at him to pick up his assignment from her desk.
He didn't care. Didn't care about school, or the people in it. For the first time in forever, Billy skipped school. Hadn't done that since he was a kid. (Neil was to blame for that. Billy had too many bruises, far too much scars and scratches on him. Neil didn't want the police called on him. So, he forced Billy to stay home until they healed over. Told—well, yelled—Billy if he dared enter school with the marks he had given him, he'd do far worse than a black eye and a sprained wrist. "Being behind bars in jail wouldn't even protect you from me, boy. I'll find a way to get my hands on you. D'ya understand me? God, I can't deal with your shit. I need another damn drink.") Nobody noticed he was gone or had been missing. It was as if his presence didn't matter. Sure, the guys he hung out with noticed he was gone but they weren't worried or showed any signs of concern, having found the wonderful gift that was color. The girls he slept around with eventually found it, too.
So, Billy couldn't even fool around with anyone if he wanted to.
(Not that he wanted to, anyways. His depression was getting worse. So, he drank more, even picked up smoking. Just so he could feel something other than what he was feeling now.) He thought nobody cared until someone showed signs that she did, only for him not to believe her; even when she confirmed it herself.
Billy was (luckily) home alone. Therefore, he took out all of his weight lifting gear and exercise equipment out into the living room for more space to work out in. His room was far too little, far too cramped to do anything in it.
The music on the radio was loud, just the way he liked it. The song that was playing bounced back and forth against each corner, echoing against the walls, shaking the house every now and then as the chorus rose higher and higher.
Billy bounced his head to the beat of the music as he curled his fingers around the Neil and Susan were at work and Max was most likely causing trouble within town with those kids she's always hanging out with. Oh, well. It wasn't his problem. Until he remembers—it is. Last time Max had gone out with her friends, she didn't come home on time and Billy was the one to receive the punishment for it. He prayed that she'd make it home this time tonight... his last bruise from his dad still hasn't healed all the way, nor did the cut Neil made on his stomach.
His thoughts are interrupted, however, when there's a knock coming from the front porch, telling him someone was standing outside. Of course, he ignores it, not wanting to be around anyone, or see anyone, far too focused on himself.
Billy slips a cigarette between his lips and flicks his lighter, drawing in the poison. The knocking keeps going—steady, relentless—and he groans around the smoke.
"Fuck, alright, I'm coming, dammit." He pushes himself up and walks out to the front door, swinging the door shut, a scowl on his face as he answers. "What do you want?"
"Oh. I'm.... sorry? I'm here for Max Mayfield? I do apologize if I have the wrong house—"
"You don't. She isn't here. What do you want with the little twerp?"
"I'm her tutor," the girl explained, brushing a piece of hair behind her ear as she nervously rocks back and forth on the heels of her boots. There was a hint of recognition on her face, as if she connected the dots and realized who was standing at the other side of the door.
"I can just come by another time—"
"What's your name?" Billy questioned, drawing a breath of smoke in before exhaling it through his lips.
The girl wheezes lightly, waving the smoke away with her fingers though it doesn't help too much. "I'm (Y/N) (L/N)."
"(Y/N)." Billy hums. "Pretty name for an even prettier face." He says, a smile dancing across his lips.
"Right.. thanks, I guess? Just let Max know I'll see her soon, alright?" The girl twirls around and Billy shudders as a wave of perfume flows in his face.
"You never asked for my name." Billy said, making (Y/N) stop in her tracks and if he heard right, he was positive she was giggling quietly.
"No, I didn't.... I already know who you are, Hargrove. And the last thing I want is to be involved with you or your life style. I'm just here to help Max with her studies. Not here for you, pretty boy."
"Oh? So, you think I'm pretty?" He grinned from ear to ear as he inhaled another drag of smoke. Huh... he hasn't smiled like this.... since... well, who knows? He didn't keep track of that sort of thing.
"Bye, Billy." She's stepping down the stairs and gets into her car, not even bothering to shoot him a wave or a second glance as she starts the vehicle and moves from the curb out into the road. "Mhm.... see you later, (Y/N)."
"Billy, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Max asked, her hand resting against her chest as she sneaked back into her bedroom window, planting her feet at the bottom of the floor with such ease, Billy knows this wasn't her first time, sneaking out.
"Waiting for you." He answered in a 'duh' tone of voice.
"Who is (Y/N)?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?" Max said with a laugh, shaking her head as she dropped her skateboard onto the floor and kicked off her shoes, throwing them in the corner of the room.
"She came by earlier." Billy explained. "Didn't know you needed help with school."
"So, what?" Max shot, drawing her eyebrows together, a scowl building across her face. "Like, I'd tell you anything. Now that you know, go on with it. Call me stupid, I don't care."
"You're not stupid." Billy said in what he hopes sounded like a reassuring tone of voice. Max wasn't stupid. Even if he'd say it to piss her off sometimes just because he could, she wasn't stupid. She was smart, especially for her age. He just... never said that out-loud. Again, he has a character to play, a part to play and he wasn't going to be the ''good big brother'' any time soon.
"I just didn't know your tutor would be so pretty."
"Oh, you are such a barf bag, Billy. A girl like (Y/N) wouldn't fall for you. Maybe, in another life, but there's not a chance in this one." Max scoffed. "Now, get out, I'm tired."
"In another life, huh? Well, you never know, Mayfield," Billy teased, a mischievous grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "Stranger things have happened."
Max shook her head with pure disgust. "Don't get your hopes up, Hargrove."
Billy chuckled softly, a flicker of determination gleaming in his eyes. "We'll see about that, Max. We'll see." "Whatever. Night, Hargrove." "Yeah. You too, Mayfield."
That night was the first night Billy Hargrove had actually fallen asleep with a smile on his face. The first time he had felt anything but the ache dull in his chest and the heaviness that was his depression.
It was... peculiar, feeling that way after not having felt it for so long but in a way it was nice... it was good.
He only now hopes he'll dream of (Y/N) and even more so wishes, prays whoever listening, that he can get the chance to know her better because he wasn't sure if he had gone crazy but he was rather positive that right before (Y/N) had gone, he had gotten a glimpse of color, even if just for a moment.
