requests for drabbles/short scenarios, oneshots, headcanons, blurbs, and preferences
x reader inserts, stand-alone for characters, and/or character x character interactions
content can be either SFW or NSFW
On this blog:
Stranger Things [ I will write for any of the 18+ boys ]
⇾ Argyle
⇾ Johnathan Byers
⇾ Jason Carver
⇾ Billy Hargrove
⇾ Steve Harrington
⇾ Eddie Munson
Expectations:
this blog will at times feature triggering literary themes and will be tagged
this blog will at times feature 18+ literary content and will be tagged
I am a very sporadic and low to random posting activity type of writer
for the above reason, I will make activity announcements to signal my intent and energy to post
most posts will typically be in the form of drabbles, headcanons, or oneshots with the addition of a few series
What I will write:
nsfw topics (please discuss with me beforehand any nsfw requests in my askbox)
sfw topics including: daily life/domestic, fluff, angst, pining, hurt/comfort, romance, comedy, light horror/light gore or canon-compliant violence, violence/abuse/trauma history as a portion of the writing but not the central focus (please message me beforehand if this is requested writing), grief/death/loss, light to moderate mental health, supernatural/spooky, angst/problematic relationship dynamics... the list goes on.
if you are uncertain about a topic that you'd like me to consider and don't see it listed, please don't hesitate to ask me.
What I will not write:
nsfw: i do not write non-con/dub-con (this includes drugging or scenarios of implied intoxication and/or mutual intoxication), first times or virginity scenarios, step-sibling or -parent dynamics, incest, grooming scenarios, large age gaps (5 years +), torture, or yandere. this list is subject to change and i reserve the right to deny a request for any reason.
sfw: i do not write heavy gore or horror themes, i don't write thrillers, or sci-fi.
Rules:
the majority of my work will be written from a female or afab perspective. i don’t believe that i would be much good at attempting to voice or write from perspectives that are not my own.
however, the majority of my headcanons and answered asks for short blurbs will be written from a gender-neutral perspective and will be tagged as such. those works will solely be written in the second person, and will not feature any pronouns (i.e. you, is the only written identifier for the reader) so that they can be read and enjoyed by any and all.
please do not request NSFW works from me if you are underage. must be 18+ to request from me.
i reserve the right to refuse any request for any reason.
the rules and information written herein are subject to change at any time, at my discretion.
Last:
All of my writings will also be cross-posted to my ao3 account under the same username. Latelyanobsession
summary Billy Hargrove has never been good at letting things go. Reader has never been good at letting people in. After one disastrous argument leaves them farther apart than ever, both spend the following days pretending they're exactly where they want to be. But Saturday night has other plans. As pride gives way to jealousy, and jealousy gives way to something neither of them expected, they'll discover that caring about someone isn't the same as controlling them.
warnings references to past sexual assault, past trauma/abuse, cursing, trauma response behavior, negative thoughts/self-talk, angst, suggestive themes
word count 5933
note Hi everyone! This is a 2026 rewrite of my Billy Hargrove fanfiction series, She's a Runner. New rewrite titles will always have a * to tell the difference. Currently, more content is being written into the original series.
Inspired by Billy Squier’s She’s A Runner
This is an updated rewrite*
As always, any feedback is much appreciated. Like and comment!
Thanks for reading!
“Do you know?”
You were still tucked against Billy’s chest. His arms were still around you. Billy stared at you. His stomach dropped. Of all the things he thought you were about to ask…
This wasn’t one of them.
He knew.
There wasn’t a single answer that wouldn’t hurt you.
His eyes dropped. His jaw tightened. His nose twitched. He couldn’t look at you.
…
You didn’t need him to answer.
He knows. He’s going to leave.
He knows. No man will ever want you.
Damaged goods.
You bit your cheek. “...Why?”
You waited. Your eyes welled with tears.
…
A tear slid down your cheek.
You shoved at him. He finally looked at you. You kept pushing, breaking out of his grasp.
“Why would you do that?!”
Billy stared at you. Shocked. This wasn’t the argument he’d been expecting. Not even close. He’d expected relief. Maybe anger that he’d gotten hurt. Maybe…
Anything but this.
Why couldn’t you see he was trying to protect you?
Billy’s chest tightened. Confused. Anxious. His temper followed.
“...”
Billy planted his feet. He rolled his jaw. Fists clenched. “I…”
“...Because I couldn’t let him touch you again.”
You let out a disbelieving laugh.
“Did it work?” You turned away toward your locker.
Billy opened his mouth. Nothing came out.
No.
It hadn’t.
That wasn’t the point.
He followed. You threw open your locker. You snatched out your bag. A textbook. And pencil case. His jaw locked. His lip twitched. Irritation flared hot in his chest.
“I did it for you!”
Billy came around the locker door.
You looked at him. “...For me?” A hollow laugh. “I would’ve never wanted that.” Billy took a step toward you. His hand clamped down on the locker door. “What was I supposed to do?!” He took another half-step. “You needed me!” Your face twisted. Backing out of your locker.
“How would you know?!”
You shoved his hand away. Slamming the door. Eyes blazing.
“I wasn’t even there!”
Neither of you spoke. You both stood there. Breathing hard.
You swung wide, going around Billy. Billy turned around. “I know enough!” You stopped midstep. You didn’t turn around. Not at first. You slowly looked over your shoulder. You stared at him a moment. Then you looked away and started walking.
Billy beat you to the crash doors, holding the push bar. You shoved the push bar. It didn’t budge. You were furious.
Billy dipped his head.
“I had to protect you.”
…
That was it. You looked at him. Contempt. Betrayal.
“I.”
“DON’T.”
“NEED.”
“YOU!”
Billy was stunned. The hallway went quiet. Somewhere behind them, a classroom door quietly clicked shut. His hand slipped from the bar. Falling limply to his side. The door swung open. You looked away. Pushed through. Left.
Billy didn’t move. He stood there. Not for seconds. But long enough that it got weird. The hall emptied. The crash door slowly swung back and forth. His hands at his sides. Limp. His mind was completely blank. Not angry. Not thinking. Just…
Stunned.
The afternoon sun hung low over the parking lot. Billy crossed toward the Camaro. Opened the passenger door. Tossed his bag inside. It landed with a dull thud. The door slammed shut. Reached into his jacket. Pulled out his cigarettes. One flick. The lighter caught. He drew in a slow breath. Exhaled. Then leaned back against the Camaro. Eyes on the school doors. And waited.
He wasn’t entirely sure what he was waiting for. The cigarette quietly burned between his fingers. The ash grew longer. Longer.
Billy blinked. “...” He looked down. “...Shit.” A quick tap against the pavement. Ash scattered. He took a slow drag. His eyes drifted back to the doors. Students spilled into the parking lot. Car doors slammed. Engines started. Billy watched them come. Freshmen. Sophomores. Juniors. Teachers. None of them. He took another drag.
The school doors swung open. Billy’s eyes lifted. You stepped outside. You stopped. Billy straightened almost imperceptibly. Across the parking lot… Your eyes found his. You looked away first. You frowned. A long exhale. You started across the parking lot.
Tomorrow.
I’ll apologize tomorrow.
Today…
You just wanted to go home.
You reached the Datsun. You unlocked it, tossing your bag into the backseat. Leaning against the open driver’s door, you glanced toward the middle school, checking for Petey.
Laughter.
You looked over.
Tommy Hagan had somehow collected half the parking lot around the Camaro. Billy was almost hidden in the crowd. Tommy stood on top of a nearby picnic table, arms flailing wildly as he told another story. Billy had taken a seat on the bench beneath him. Cigarette between his fingers. Laughing.
“And then…” Tommy threw one stiff leg forward. Then the other. “She just walks off like a fuckin’ zombie…” The group exploded with laughter. “What a schizo!” Vicki called. Tommy pointed at you. Right at you. Heat rushed into your face. Your lip twitched. Your hands curled into fists. Vicki drifted toward Billy. One hand landed on his shoulder. Then she settled into his lap. Billy didn’t even flinch. She said something. Tommy barked out another laugh. Everyone else joined in. You couldn’t hear a word. It didn’t matter. They were laughing. Vicki slipped both arms around Billy’s neck.
You froze.
Billy answered something with a small nod. Vicki reached up, plucking the cigarette from Billy’s lips. She took a slow drag. Your grip tightened on the edge of the driver’s door. Smoke curled into the air. Vicki rested her head against Billy’s chest, she pulled him down into a kiss.
SLAM
The driver’s door echoed across the parking lot. Heads turned.
“Oooooh hoo hoo!”
The group jeered.
Billy wanted to play games?
You could play games too.
You crossed the parking lot. Straight toward the school. Right past the picnic tables. They laughed. Someone whistled. Tommy pulled another face. You kept your eyes ahead. Shoulders squared. Jaw tight. You didn’t look. You walked straight past Billy. Past the Camaro. Past the picnic tables. He turned, following you with his eyes. You kept walking. Toward the school. Toward the payphones. Toward a group of boys. There was only one that you needed to talk to.
Billy watched until you disappeared. He turned away and slowly walked back to the Camaro. He leaned back against the hood.
Tik. … Tik.
He stared at the lighter. He wasn’t going to watch.
Tik Tik. … Tik.
“JJ…?”
JJ pushed himself off the brick wall. He smiled.
“Hey, (F/N).”
“Whatsup?”
You walked straight up to him. You were bold.
“I’d love to go with you to Tina’s party.”
JJ looked at you in surprise. His friends ribbed one another behind his back. Someone held up a hand. Someone high-fived him. Someone handed over a couple dollars. “Awesome.” He grinned brightly. He pushed himself off the wall. He stood in front of you. “Let’s talk details.” You both headed toward the parking lot. Side by side.
You sorted out a pick up time. JJ pulled a chewing gum package from his letterman jacket. He took the pen tucked behind his ear. And handed them to you. You scribbled down your address and phone number inside the package, and handed them back. You came to a stop next to your car. JJ smiled. “Y’know I’m real excited for Saturday.” A hand rubbed the back of his head. “Always thought you were cute.” “...Didn’t have the guts ‘til now.” You blinked up at him. “Really?” You found that hard to believe. JJ was Mr. Cool. All wrapped up in denim and Ralph Lauren, and an easy confidence.
Billy looked anyway.
…
JJ nodded. “Cool.” “See you then.” He dipped his head, kissing your cheek.
Billy’s jaw locked.
JJ waved, walking off to his Ford truck.
You smiled lightly. A hand on your cheek. It quickly faded. As you caught eyes with Billy. He scowled at you. Leaned against the hood of the Camaro. Turning the lighter over in his hand.
Tik Tik Tik… Tik… Tik Tik
You opened the driver’s door on the Datsun and climbed in. Petey finally appeared, opening the passenger door. He got in. Paused. His hand held the seatbelt halfway out. “Wow…” He secured his seatbelt. “Your boyfriend looks really pissed.” You started the engine. You turned away, reversing. “He’s not my boyfriend…” You didn’t look back. You left Hawkins High.
The Datsun disappeared over the hill. Billy rubbed a hand across his mouth. “...Shit.” He flicked his lighter shut. He climbed into the Camaro.
The following morning, you pulled into Hawkins High. The radio cranked high. You drowned your thoughts. You pulled into your usual spot. You sat there a moment. Thinking. Petey timidly watched you from the passenger’s seat. Neither of you said anything.
You exhaled.
You backed the car out. Repositioning it at an angle. You killed the engine. You climbed out and locked the doors. Taking a few steps back, you admired your handiwork. The back half of the Datsun jutted into the adjacent parking slot.
In Billy’s spot.
“Let’s go.”
You shoved Petey on the shoulder. You walked down the hill toward the high school. A loud car horn whined in the air. You didn’t look back. You straightened your back and walked into the school.
Because of your little stunt, Billy was late to class. He sprinted through the door at the last second, stopping beside his desk to catch his breath. He glanced back over his shoulder.
You were already writing. You never looked up.
Billy exhaled through his nose.
“Mr. Hargrove,” Mr. Dawson cut in. “Take your seat.”
Billy dropped into his chair. His notebook landed with a soft thud. Before Mr. Dawson even turned back toward the chalkboard, Billy twisted halfway around in his seat. Your pencil moved steadily across the page. You never acknowledged him. Billy frowned. Mr. Dawson cleared his throat. Billy slowly turned around.
…
Ten minutes crawled by. Billy glanced over his shoulder again. Nothing. He tore a corner from his notebook. Scribbled quickly. Crumpled it into a ball.
A soft tap.
The paper landed on your desk. You looked at it. A long moment. Then you nudged it off the edge of your desk with the eraser of your pencil. It rolled across the floor.
Billy blinked.
…
Another scrap disappeared from his notebook. Another paper ball. Another quiet toss. It landed beside your hand. You swept it to the floor without even looking. Billy rubbed his thumb across his lip.
“...”
One more.
The third bounced once before coming to rest on your notebook. You picked it up. Billy straightened ever so slightly. You looked at it. Then calmly dropped it into the aisle. Billy slumped back into his chair.
“...Psst.”
You pressed your pencil harder against the paper.
“...Psst.”
Nothing.
Billy leaned back another inch.
“Pssssst…”
Several heads turned. Mr. Dawson slowly lowered his chalk.
“Mr. Hargrove.”
Billy froze.
“...”
Mr. Dawson walked down the aisle, stooping to gather the three crumpled paper balls from the floor. He held them up between two fingers. “...Please save your snake charming for after school.”
The classroom erupted in laughter.
Billy closed his eyes.
“...”
His notebook snapped shut with a frustrated smack.
Billy was determined. He was going to get your attention today. One way or another.
The bell rang.
Books snapped shut. Chairs scraped across the floor. Billy was already standing before Mr. Dawson had finished dismissing the class. You packed your bag. Slipped out the back door. Billy ducked around another row of desks, cutting toward the hallway.
Thus far, you were doing a pretty stellar job of steering clear of him. But you could feel him. He was everywhere. His eyes on you. It wouldn’t last forever. Sooner or later…
He’d corner you.
And then?
Billy would catch you.
You exited the classroom. Billy caught sight of you stepping into the hallway. He picked up his pace, weaving between students. Almost there.
Just a few more steps.
“...(F/N)—”
“Hey!”
JJ jogged up from the adjacent hallway. You turned. “Hey, JJ.” Billy stopped. His eyes followed the two of you until you disappeared around the corner.
…
He looked down the empty hallway.
“...Shit.”
Billy rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. Then headed to class.
Following French, Billy scanned the hallway. Students poured around him. Lockers slammed. Voices echoed off the cinderblock walls.
There.
You were standing at your locker.
Alone.
Billy’s pace quickened.
Don’t leave.
You looked up. Billy slowed. You were looking right at him. Finally. His breath caught.
…
“Ready?”
JJ.
Billy turned. JJ stepped past him. Billy looked back. You were already smiling. Billy’s shoulders sank almost imperceptibly.
You smiled politely. Shut your locker. Walked away beside him.
At lunch, you were sitting with your friends. Billy leaned against the opposite wall, absently turning an apple over in his hand. His eyes drifted toward your table. JJ wandered over carrying his lunch tray. Billy watched him sit down.
JJ never seemed to stay in one place. Somehow, he always ended up wherever you were.
Billy couldn’t remember seeing the two of you together before yesterday.
Ever.
The final bell rang. You headed straight for your locker. You spun the dial, lifting the latch with a click. JJ showed up. He leaned on the locker next to yours. You were laughing. Talking. Billy rounded the corner. His face dropped. JJ was already there. Billy sniffed. He opened his locker. Pretended to shuffle books. Leaned around the edge of the door. Still there. He looked back into the locker. Counted to five. Checked again. JJ was still there. Billy’s locker wasn’t even a dozen away from yours. JJ said something. You laughed.
Billy looked around the locker door.
You smiled.
A real one.
Right up to your eyes.
He hadn’t seen that smile since Tuesday.
Billy’s expression softened.
…
Then hardened.
Billy’s jaw rolled. His fingers tightened around the locker door. He frowned. This wasn’t bad luck. Not anymore.
…
SLAM
The entire hallway jumped. Heads turned. JJ looked up. You looked over your shoulder.
Billy stood there a second after the locker door stopped rattling. Students kept walking. Talking. Laughing. Billy wasn’t listening. He turned, stalking out the doors.
Billy walked out of the school. The Camaro sat where he’d left it. He never looked at it. He crossed the parking lot. Kept walking. Toward the Datsun. Reaching the car, Billy scuffed his boots across the asphalt. He turned and slowly leaned back. Just in front of the driver’s door. He sniffed, fingering the Zippo in his pocket. He pulled it out. He fished the half-empty pack of Marlboros from his breast pocket. He shook a cigarette loose. Placed it between his lips.
He looked up.
…
Just in case.
You weren’t there.
He tossed the lighter in his hands. His thumb flicked the lid open.
Shut.
Open.
Shut.
Open.
Click. Click. Click.
Billy took a long drag. Exhaling toward the sky.
The day ended. Billy was out of sight. Not out of mind. The Camaro was parked off to the far side of the hill.
Billy wasn’t at the Camaro.
You felt yourself loosen. Just a little. Then you turned.
Billy was leaning against the Datsun. You groaned.
“I have nothing to say to you.” Billy nodded. He plucked the cigarette from his lips, exhaling. “...Just did.” You rolled your jaw, looking away. You unlocked the car and tossed your bag into the backseat.
Billy sniffed. He took another drag. Exhaled. He tilted his head.
“Gonna be a bitch now?”
Lips pursed. Cigarette glowing. You shot him a look. You didn’t answer. You motioned with your hands for him to move. Billy looked at your hands. Then looked at you. He blinked. “Not a chance.” He didn’t move. He took another drag.
You rolled your eyes. A sharp exhale.
If he wasn’t going to move? He would. Once you pulled away.
You opened the driver’s door, putting a foot inside. Billy’s hand clamped down on your wrist. You stopped. And for the first time today, you looked at him. Really looked at him.
…
You flexed your wrist. Not pulling. Not fighting. Testing.
“...Let go…”
Billy’s gaze was intense. He looked furious. He searched your face like the answer might be written there. You swallowed nervously. Your mouth slightly open.
A long moment passed.
Billy said nothing. It was as if he was fighting himself for the right words to say. He tapped the ash loose on his cigarette. Billy inhaled. Opened his mouth. Closed it again. Looked away. Lifted his chin. Blinked once. Looked back at you.
…
“You should stay away from him…”
Your nose scrunched. Your jaw tightened.
“From who?” “...JJ?”
Billy said nothing. He took one last pull from his cigarette, tossing it aside. He slowly exhaled the smoke from his lungs.
Your temper flared.
He had some nerve. Telling you what to do. Who to see…
You tugged at your wrist. He didn’t budge. You sneered.
“And if I don’t?” “...You gonna hospitalize him too?”
…
“HEY!”
His grip tightened. You flinched, taking a half step back.
“This is serious shit.”
Billy shook his head. He looked down.
“Y’don’t get it.”
Your eyes wouldn’t leave him. Your chest rising and falling in short bursts.
“Stay away from him.”
Billy leaned in, his eyes searching yours.
“...(F/N)...”
His grip loosened.
“You need to…”
“Stay.”
“Away.”
His grip relaxed. You wrenched your arm back, pulling it to your chest. Petey was staring from the other side of the Datsun. He didn’t move. He was unusually quiet. You turned your head just enough to look at Petey, your eyes cutting toward him while the rest of you followed.
Silence.
You didn’t wait. You clambered into the car, slamming the door. You hastily started the ignition. Petey jumped in and secured his seatbelt. Your eyes wouldn’t leave him. Tears threatened. You blinked them back. You were breathing hard.
“You okay?”
Petey looked at you. Then at Billy. He crossed his arms. You threw the car into reverse. Billy barely got off the car. You backed out. Immediately shifting to drive.
“I’m fine…”
You looked away.
Billy stood in the parking lot. Hands in his pockets. The cigarette was gone. He looked at the empty space where the Datsun had been. A kick of his boot. Max arrived. She watched the Datsun crest the hill. She looked at Billy.
“What’s the matter?”
Billy’s nose twitched. His jaw rolled. He spit. And walked toward the Camaro. “Billy?” Max tracked after him. “What happened?” Billy keyed open the driver’s door. He looked at the hill one more time.
“None of your fuckin’ business.”
He ducked his head and climbed inside. He slammed the door closed. Max quickly got in. Billy revved the engine. They drove off.
The following day, Friday, Billy left you alone.
No notes. No “pssst.” No waiting outside classrooms. No leaning against lockers. No cigarette by the Datsun.
Nothing.
You didn’t look for him.
…
Well…
Not in so many words.
You simply noticed he wasn’t there.
The knot in your stomach loosened. Just a little. You told yourself it was relief. It should be. So did it feel so much like guilt?
The day passed quietly. Classes blurred together. Lunch came and went. JJ waved as he passed you in the hallway. You smiled back. It wasn’t difficult.
It should have been even easier than this.
The final bell rang.
Students spilled into the parking lot. You unlocked the Datsun, tossing your bag into the backseat. As you reached for the driver’s door, you looked up. Across the lot, Billy was climbing into the Camaro.
He paused. So did you.
The distance between you felt impossibly wide.
Neither of you waved. Neither of you spoke.
Billy ducked inside the Camaro. The engine rumbled to life. You watched the Camaro disappear over the hill.
Then you got into the Datsun.
Saturday evening arrived. Petey was being unusually helpful. He fetched your favorite pair of earrings. You were messing with your hair in the bathroom mirror. You were actually getting rather good at this. From all the times you’d been out with Billy. You fluffed your hair. Soft waves cascaded down your shoulders. You pinned back a section. Bobby pins in your mouth as the doorbell rang.
“...!”
“I got it!”
Petey bounded down the stairs.
The front door opened. A voice. Pleasant. Chatting with Petey.
You slipped on your boots. You made a turn. Checked your teeth. One last turn.
It was as good as it was going to get.
You headed downstairs. One step at a time. Four steps to the bottom…
JJ’s eyes met yours. He rose from the couch.
“...Wow.”
He rubbed a hand across his mouth, rolling his jaw as though to remind himself not to stare.
You smiled coyly. You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. It fell back into place. You took the last few steps. JJ stood in front of you. He leaned in and kissed your cheek.
“You look amazing.”
“Thanks—”
“You gotta be home by two.”
Petey peered down his glasses at you. You rolled your eyes, pulling on your jean jacket. “I know.” “Don’t—.” “I know.” Petey cut in. A soft grin. You and JJ waved Petey goodbye and left the house. You walked to the curb. JJ opened the passenger door. He offered a hand, helping you into his Ford Ranger. He closed the door and came around. He climbed in. Smiled. Keyed the ignition.
You headed out.
Billy lay flat on his bed. One arm behind his head. The radio hummed quietly somewhere across the room. He stared at the ceiling.
…
Absolutely not.
Tina’s party. You. JJ.
No.
Not happening.
He wasn’t about to spend his Saturday watching those two.
…
He rolled onto his side. Sat up. Rubbed both hands down his face.
“...Shit.”
He wandered toward the dresser. Opened the top drawer. Looked inside. Closed it. Walked back to the bed. Sat down.
…
No.
Five minutes. Silence. The radio. He looked toward the closet.
…
“Jesus Christ.”
He stood up. Walked to the closet. Slid open the door. He reached out and pulled a black sleeve into his hand.
…
Just looking.
He pulled it from the hanger. Flipped it over. Thought.
“Nah.”
He threw it to the side.
He pulled another shirt out.
“Eh.”
Threw that aside.
Pulled out another. He held it up. Tilted his head side to side. Pursed his lips.
“Maybe.”
He turned and looked in the mirror. He craned his neck.
He tossed it to the bed.
Billy paused. “...” He looked at the bed. He looked at the closet.
“...The hell am I doin’?”
He snatched the shirt off the bed, and stuffed it back into the closet with considerably more force than necessary.
He sat down. Again.
….
Three minutes. Billy stood again.
He returned to the closet.
Picking up the shirt and shaking it out. He slowly exhaled. He rubbed the material between his fingers. An annoyed flick of his head.
He started undoing the buttons of the shirt he was wearing. Halfway through, he stopped. “...” His hands fell to his sides. Shirt in one hand.
He rolled his jaw. He looked at the mirror. Unamused. Irritated. His nose twitched.
“...Jesus Christ.”
He shrugged the shirt off. Sticking one arm through a sleeve, he paused. A scoff. He pulled the shirt on. He rolled his shoulders, fingers doing up the bottom two buttons. Nothing more.
A sniff.
He brushed an imaginary wrinkle from the front.
“...”
He stopped.
Dropped his hand.
He looked at the carved wooden box on his dresser. He rested a hand on it. Lifted it away.
…
Put it back.
He removed the lid. He ran a finger through its contents.
He pulled out a tarnished hoop. Threw it back. He pulled out a dangling earring. Black beads with a sharp dagger at the end.
He stared at it.
“...”
“Nah.”
He held onto it.
He shut the box and walked to the mirror.
He leaned in, pulling the simple hoop off his ear and replacing it with the dangle. He turned his head side to side. A subtle nod.
He walked away.
Two steps.
…
He sighed.
Turned around.
Back to the mirror.
He adjusted the earring. He stared for a beat. He blindly reached over, pulling a glass bottle off the dresser. He brought it under his nose. His face scrunched.
“Hell, no.”
He put it back and picked up another bottle. He turned the bottle over in his hand. A small nod. He set it in front of the mirror.
“Nope.”
He turned away. Took a few steps. Returned.
Tsssht.
One spray.
He paused.
Tsssht. Tsssht.
“Yah never know.”
He ran a hand through his hair, coiling and correcting his curls. He tugged one curl loose. Let it fall. Tilted his head.
Better.
He stood back.
He looked himself over once.
“...”
His jacket was already in his hand. Billy frowned. He couldn’t remember picking it up.
He walked to his nightstand. His hand reached for the car keys.
He looked at the keys. Looked at the door. Looked at the keys.
He sighed.
“...”
He picked them up.
“...Son of a bitch.”
JJ drove with one hand resting lazily on the steering wheel. The truck drifted gently over a patched section of road before settling back into the lane. He hummed along with the radio, tapping his fingers against his thigh.
“Y’know…” You looked over. “Couldn’t say it in front of your kid brother but…” “...you look hot.” Your eyes went wide. “...Oh?” JJ chuckled. “Yeh.” He swiped a thumb across his lip. “Didn’t know you wore things like that.” You shrugged. “Guess there’s a lot you don’t know.” JJ smiled.
“Hope so.”
You didn’t answer.
You looked out the passenger window. Neighborhoods rolled by. “Ever been to Tina’s?” “Once.” “...Her birthday party a few years ago.” JJ laughed. “Everyone goes to those.” “What about this kinda thing?” “...No.” JJ patted your thigh. “It’s gonna be great.” Your thumb brushed your wrist. “...Yeah…”
…
You hadn’t realized you’d done it.
“You okay?”
You blinked, nodding. “Yeah.” JJ made another couple of turns, pulling into a culdesac.
Cars lined the street. You were still a block away, but you could hear the music spilling out of the house. JJ whistled. “Looks killer.” You stared through the windshield. You took a deep breath. Your stomach tightened.
JJ parked the truck, killing the engine. He looked over. “Ready?” You looked at the house. “...” After a moment, you nodded. “...Yeah.” JJ grinned. “Hell yeah.” JJ hopped out of the truck. He ran around, and opened the passenger door.
He offered his hand.
You blinked.
You took it.
Tina’s house was large. The front door stood open. You took a step inside. Music thumped through the floor. Voices overlapped. Someone laughed somewhere upstairs. The air smelled faintly of cigarette smoke and spilt beer. JJ followed behind you, his hand on your back. He smiled at you. You smiled back. Convincingly.
JJ’d clearly been here before. He guided you through the house, arriving in a larger living room at the back of the house. There were so many people. You’d never seen them before. They had to be from different schools. But JJ? He seemed to know them all. High-fives. Back slaps. Shouted greetings.
JJ was a social butterfly. Widely liked. Respected. Boisterous. Outgoing. Warm.
He wasn’t Billy.
JJ nudged your side. “I’ll get us drinks.” He stated it loudly. You shook your head, but he was already gone. You sighed. You wrapped an arm around yourself. Looking. Down.
“What the hell’re you doing here?”
You turned around. Blue eyes landed on yours. You crossed your arms. “Enjoying myself.” Billy licked his lips, an annoyed smile crossing his face. “Funny.” His eyes narrowed. “You told me you hated parties.” You sniffed, petulantly. “Well I thought I’d try again.” You looked away. Billy shook his head in disbelief, taking a drink from the bottle in his hand.
He’d been fuming all week. Irritated. That little act? That bullshit in the parking lot with Johnson. To try and make Billy jealous… It had. And now here you are at a party. A party that you’d have never wanted to go to with him. All trussed up in a little black dress with your damn eyes batting at anyone.
Except Billy.
“Hargrove.” Billy looked up. JJ stood beside you, holding out one of the cups. Billy looked him up and down. “Johnson.” JJ slipped an arm around your waist.
You froze. Not dramatically. Your shoulders stiffened. Your eyes dropped. His hand. For the briefest moment, you simply stared at it. You looked at the drink in your hand. Nervous. You’d heard lots of stories about Tina’s parties. You’d never let a drop of anything touch your lips before. JJ looked at you. “Somethin’ wrong?” “N-No.” You shook your head. “‘Course not.” You smiled weakly. Tense. JJ traced small circles on your side.
JJ looked at Billy. “You gonna stare at my date all night?” JJ pulled you in closer. You shifted your weight. “Or are we gonna have a problem?” Billy’s grip on his beer tightened slightly. He looked at JJ. Then he looked at you. “No.” “No problem.” Billy looked at you one more time before he walked away. He’d warned you. You hadn’t listened.
He warned you. But… You said it yourself. You didn’t need him.
JJ took a drink. He smiled. “Glad you shook ‘im.” “Better off.” You hummed a weak reply. JJ leaned in. “You should really try this.” He tapped his cup against yours. “It’ll loosen you up a bit.” You nodded weakly. Your lips shifted to the side. You lifted the cup and took a small sip. You scrunched your nose. It wasn’t horrible. But it was far, far from great.
The song changed. JJ’s face lit up. “C’mon!” Hand on your waist, JJ steered you toward the throng of people. The music swallowed you. JJ spun you, pulling you in close. Tilting your cup to your lips. You took a long drink. Longer than you wanted. JJ didn’t lower the cup for a time. You coughed when he finally did. He smiled. “How do you feel?” He yelled over the music. You blinked. “I’m supposed to feel something?” He laughed, nodding.
JJ ran his hands down your hips. He pulled you flush to his body. You leaned back. You felt hot. The room was stuffy. Bodies were everywhere. He spun you again. Some of your drink spilled over the side of your cup. Reeling you back in, JJ pressed your back against his chest. He tucked his head to your neck. Smelling your hair. His lips brushed your skin. He traced a finger up your thigh.
Cold rushed through you. Head to toe. You felt lightheaded. “I…”
“I need air.”
He didn’t hear you. Sending you out for another spin. You pushed away from him, spilling more of your drink. You headed toward the glass doors. You walked out onto the back porch. You looked at your cup and tossed it into a nearby planter. You closed your eyes. Breathing deep.
JJ appeared beside you. He draped an arm over your shoulder. He leaned in. “Everything okay?” You frowned. “...” Your insides squirmed. You ducked, pushing his arm off. “No.” “...It’s not.” JJ blinked. You looked at the ground, whittling away at a spot with your boot. You paused.
“I don’t like you touching me.”
JJ tilted his head. “...What?” You crossed your arms. You leaned against the railing. Your head was fuzzy.
“Why?”
You looked up at JJ. “Why, what?” JJ huffed, shoulders shrugging. “Why d’you have to touch me so much?” JJ smiled. He tilted his head, taking a step. “Because I like you.” Another step. You stepped away. Another. Until— Your back hit the brick wall. He closed the space between you. A hand on your waist. The other cupping the back of your head. You squirmed.
“You’re doing it again.”
JJ leaned in. “Doin’ what?” He pulled you in. Dipping his head, he went to kiss you.
“It’s too much.”
You shoved him hard.
JJ faltered a few steps back. “What the hell, (F/N)?” He flexed his shoulders. “Thought you wanted this.” He took a step in. “It’s too much!” You repeated, backing up. You hit the wall. He reached for you. You smacked it away. “You’re not listening!”
JJ shook his head. He looked to the side, biting his cheek. His jaw rolled.
He looked back at you.
“God.” His shoulders heaved. “What they say ‘bout you is true.” You were still against the wall. “And what’s that?” JJ scoffed. “Prude.” He made a sharp exhale. “...No wonder you’re still a virgin.”
If he really knew… What an ironic twist that would be.
JJ pointed. “No one’s gonna put up with you.” He shook his head, laughing.
“It’s a wonder Hargrove kept you as long as he did!”
“Don’t know why anybody would.”
SMACK
Billy stopped just inside the open glass door. He’d been watching. You were backed against the brick wall, JJ was standing too close. Billy’s fingers tightened around the neck of the beer bottle, his jaw locking. JJ leaned down and pulled you in. Billy’s grip eased as JJ stumbled backward. “What the hell, (F/N)?” Billy didn’t move. You said something. JJ rubbed a hand down his mouth and said something. You replied. JJ’s shoulders rolled. He pointed at you. “...No one’s going to put up with you.” JJ took a step toward you. Billy took one step, frowning. Heads inside the living room started turning.
“It’s a wonder Hargrove kept you as long as he did!”
Billy blinked.
JJ laughed.
“Don’t know why anybody would!”
The sound cracked through the backyard. Billy stared. He’d never seen you raise a hand.
Ever.
You were shaking.
You pushed yourself away from the wall. “Fuck you!” You didn’t look back. Pushing your way through the party, you went out the front door. You stopped at the end of the driveway. You weren’t exactly sure how far from home you were. You didn’t care.
You were going home.
You huffed. You looked left. Looked right. And then you tore down the sidewalk, heading east. You’d eventually hit a cross street that you’d recognize.
Billy set down his beer bottle on the nearest table, tailing after you.
You hadn’t been walking long, when the steady thrum of guitars pulled up alongside you. The passenger window was open. The volume dropped.
“Get in.”
“I’m walking.” You stubbornly pushed on. You rounded the corner. Billy followed, the Camaro idling. He ducked his head, staring at you. “Don’t be stupid.” Your nose twitched in irritation. “Be as stupid as I want…” you mumbled. “Get in the damn car.”
You laughed, shoving your hands in your pockets. “I don’t think so.” You continued another three blocks, the Camaro tailgating you. You inhaled. “I don’t need—!” “Yah, I know.” Billy cut you short. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel.
You finally hit a street you recognized. Just two more to Birch.
Billy was still there. Ambling along. “I’ve walked home plenty’a times.” “Yup.” One street away. You couldn’t believe he followed you all the way home. Billy pulled into your driveway, killing the engine and popping the lock. You charged straight for the front door. Up the front steps and inside. Locking the door.
Hi, everyone! Just wanted to give you a little teaser of what I'll be working on over the next few weeks. I don't want to provide too much detail, I want to keep the content under wraps until final posting.
Thanks for stopping by! As always, likes, comments, and feedback are always appreciated.
summary Reader has spent most of her life trying not to be noticed. Suddenly, she's the center of attention—and she hates every second of it. Billy watches from the sidelines as classmates begin seeing her in a whole new light, but jealousy quickly gives way to concern when an ordinary school assembly takes an unexpected turn. As old wounds reopen, Billy finds himself confronting a truth far bigger than he ever imagined.
warnings references to past sexual assault, past trauma/abuse, cursing, trauma response behavior, negative thoughts/self-talk, angst, suggestive themes
word count 3087
note Hi everyone! This is a 2026 rewrite of my Billy Hargrove fanfiction series, She's a Runner. New rewrite titles will always have a * to tell the difference. Currently, more content is being written into the original series.
Inspired by Billy Squier’s She’s A Runner
This is an updated rewrite*
As always, any feedback is much appreciated. Like and comment!
Thanks for reading!
Wednesday morning, you were running behind. Idling in the driveway. Eggo in your mouth. Hitting the horn.
HONK HOOOONK HONK HOOONK HONK
“Petey…” You grumbled. Petey finally came bounding out of the house. After fifty more honks. Your mother called him back to the door. She handed him his backpack and a banana.
He hopped in.
“Jesus, Petey.” You shifted into reverse. “Shake a leg next time.”
You practically flew into the school parking lot. Billy was climbing out of the Camaro. He was arguing with his sister before both feet had even hit the pavement. You honked. Billy stopped mid-argument. He looked over. Max did too. “...” You waved. A pause. Then they resumed their argument. You pulled into the slot next to him. Climbing out of the car, you caught the last bit of their conversation.
“You can skate home if you and your shitty little friends aren’t done by then—” Max glared at him. “Fine.” Throwing her hands up. “Not like I’m asking a lot anyways…” She pulled her skateboard from the backseat. Ready to stalk off. Coming back around the car.
She and Petey nearly ran into each other. Petey’s book hit the pavement. “Sorry.” Max bent down first, picking it up. She glanced at the cover. “You actually read this?” Petey blinked. “... Yeah.” “Huh.” She handed it back. “It actually good?” “Really good.” “...” “What’s it about?”
“Petey!” You hollered. “Stop gawking! “It’s almost eight!” Petey blushed. “Shut up!” Max started walking. Petey hesitated for half a second. Then followed after her. Within moments they were talking like they’d known each other longer than thirty seconds. …Not that you could hear a word.
You pulled your backpack out of the car, locking it as you shut the door. You stood next to Billy. “Wouldn’t it be funny if they started dating?” Billy shook his head. A smile. “Be a fuckin’ nightmare.”
Billy’s eyes looked you over. “What’s the occasion?”
You were done up. Red turtleneck. White sneakers. A skirt. Billy’d never see you wear a skirt in your life. Your hair was styled too. It was an awfully preppy look.
You blinked. “Mom said I had to look nice.” You looked at your shoes. “Didn’t say why.” That was somehow unsettling to Billy. Billy frowned. “... Weird.”
The pair of you walked into the school. Billy departed. Getting some things from his locker. You headed for your own. You opened your locker. Unzipping your backpack. You pulled out two textbooks. Exchanging them for two others in your locker. You were paying no mind to your surroundings. The shuffle of feet in the hall. Chatter.
“(F/N)?”
You looked over your shoulder. It wasn’t Billy.
It was James Johnson, ‘JJ’. Captain of the Hawkins High football team. You turned around. “...Hi?” It’s all you could get out.
You definitely had a major crush on him. Ever since he asked you for a pencil in the eighth grade. He smiled brightly. Leaning on the lockers. “So ummm…” He crossed his arms. “I know we don’t really talk much—”
Much? You were pretty sure that he didn’t even know you existed. … Until now.
“... There’s this party at Tina’s the weekend.” He scratched the back of his head. A soft laugh. The longer it took him to speak, the easier it was becoming for you to recall all the reasons you liked him.
“Wanna come with…” He was coy. “... me?”
You felt like you’d just been smacked with a wet rag. Was JJ asking you out?
You blinked. “I’m sorry.” You leaned in. Not believing your ears. “What?” JJ stepped in closer. His smile widened. “Wanna go with me to Tina’s party this weekend?” He looked at you expectantly. You blinked. Speechless. “C-can…” You looked at him. “Can you…” You looked away. “Lemme think about it?” Your cheeks prickled with heat. JJ laughed. “Yeah.” He lightly shook his head. “‘Course.” He looked at you. “Just lemme know.” A pause. Neither of you moved. You smiled. JJ smiled back. “... Okay.” He took a step backward. He gave you a broad wave before turning around. He wandered away.
Turning. You startled. Billy was standing there. Brows pinched. Looking down the hallway where JJ had disappeared. “What the hell was that about?” He looked you over. Checking. You blinked, looking back down the hall. “Not really sure…”
The starting bell rang.
The day was going by smoothly. For the most part. But something was…
Different.
“Mornin’ (F/N)!”
You looked up. “Morning?”
You kept walking.
“Hey (F/N)! Great presentation in Blitz’s class yesterday.”
You turned again.
“Thanks…”
…
What was going on?
It wasn’t just JJ.
Andrew caught up to you outside French. “Hey.” You looked over. He scratched the back of his neck. “... You still got last week’s notes?” “...” You blinked at him. “You were there.” “Yah, so were you.” You raised an eyebrow. “... Right.” He laughed awkwardly. “So, yeah.” He paused. “... Could I borrow ‘em anyway?” You handed them over. “Thanks.” “Welcome.”
At lunch, Harry stepped aside before you reached the front of the line. “You can go.” You blinked. “... Me?” “Yeah.” “... Why?” He shrugged. “‘Cause.” “... Ladies first?” You frowned but stepped ahead of him anyway. When you reached the register, he slid the last chocolate chip cookie off his tray. “You can have it.” “...” “No thanks.” “Oh c’mon.” “I’ve got pudding…” “Yeah…” “... but this one’s better.” He held it out. You slowly accepted it. “... Thank you?” He grinned far too proudly over one chocolate chip cookie.
Between classes, Lance was already drinking from the water fountain. He looked up as you approached. Without a word, he stepped aside and held the sticky button down. “... Thanks.” “No problem.” You took a drink. Finished. Straightened. He was still holding it. “... I’m done.” “...” “...” “Oh.” He let go. “... Right.”
Art. Mitch wandered behind your easel. He looked at your charcoal sketch. “... That’s really good.” You looked at him. “... Thanks.” He pointed vaguely. “I like…” “uh…” “... the shading.” “...Very artsy.” “Thanks.” “... You bet.” He stood there another two seconds. “... Well.” “... See ya.” He immediately walked into the drying rack. “Ow.”
You blinked after him.
What the hell was happening?
Boys who’d barely spoken three words to you all year suddenly knew your name.
You were making your way down the hallway when two boys coming the opposite direction slowed. “...That’s her.” “What?” “Her.” “Her…?” “Yeah.” One looked back. Made a nod of approval. “...Honestly?” “I see it.” WHACK “Ouch!” “Don’t stare dumbass!” “...‘m not!” “...Kinda cute though.” “...Yeah…” They walked away. You stood there.
…
Kinda cute?
Your eyes narrowed.
Something was definitely wrong.
It was jarring.
You’d never had so much attention in your life, and you weren’t entirely sure that you liked it.
The lunch bell rang. You wandered toward the gymnasium. You usually met Billy somewhere outside the boys’ locker room after fourth period. It had quietly become routine. You leaned against the cinderblock wall, waiting. “...Hey.” You looked up. “Oh.” It was one of Billy’s basketball teammates. You recognized him. Because he was tall. “...Hi.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “So…” “...Waiting for Hargrove?” “Yeah.” “Oh.” A long pause. “...Come around here often?”
…
You looked at him. “...I was here yesterday.” “...” “...Right.” He rubbed the back of his neck.
Billy pushed through the locker room doors. His gym bag slung over one shoulder. He spotted you immediately. Then spotted who was talking to you. His jaw tightened.
Seriously?
Him?
Billy took a step.
Then another.
…
His pace slowed.
He stopped. Rolled his jaw. Shifted his weight. Everything about today had gotten under his skin. JJ. The hallway. The damn cookie. Now this.
Wait.
Can the day just be over already?
“...So…” the teammate cleared his throat. “...You uh…” “...Like basketball?” “Not really.” “Oh.” “...” “...Me neither.”
…
He was still wearing his practice jersey.
Billy nearly snorted.
Then…
You looked toward the locker room. Your eyes found Billy. Your expression softened immediately.
A tiny smile. The corners of your eyes crinkled. A slow blink.
Billy felt the tension drain from his shoulders.
There she is.
The teammate followed your gaze. “Oh.” Saw Billy. “...I’ll…” He backed away. “...See ya.” He disappeared.
Billy wandered over. “You ready?” You nodded. “Yeah.” He fell into step beside you.
“Today’s been weird.” Billy glanced sideways. “Yeh?” “Everybody’s talking to me.” “Like they know me.” You frowned. “Bother you?” You shook your head. “It’s just…” “I’m not giving anyone my notes again.” Billy looked over. “...What?” “Andrew borrowed them.” “Harry gave me his cookie.” You started counting on your fingers. “Lance…” “...Mitch...” Suddenly you stopped. Your eyes widened. “Morales’ exam.” Billy blinked. “...What?” Your eyes narrowed. “Those cheats…” Billy barked a laugh. “Really?” “A conspiracy?” You shrugged. “It has to be.” Billy laughed again.
After lunch, everyone piled into the gym for an assembly.
You knew it had something to do with the annual scholarship nominations, but those were usually reserved for the topmost students. You were a good student. You knew that. But you also weren’t the best. No matter how much your mother wanted you to be.
A dais was set up in the middle of the gym. Students were filling the stands. Taking a seat, you smoothed your skirt. Tugging the hem down. It felt too short. You hated skirts. But, your mother berated you for trying to leave in jeans.
Billy took the seat next to you.
The principal walked in with a handful of teachers and a tall blonde man that walked with arrogance.
Your eyes were fixed on the dais.
“Everyone settle down.” “...I know you’re excited.” The principal spoke. The microphone screeching. The student body settled. You were told the purpose of the assembly. Scholarships. As you suspected. Then the guest was introduced.
The mayor of Hawkins, Larry Kline.
A round of applause traveled through the crowd. The Mayor stepped up to the mic.
You didn’t clap. Your hands wrapped tight on the hem of your skirt.
Why was he here? Last year they were presented by the community bank. It was always the bank. Always.
Billy glanced over. Your knuckles were white.
You didn’t even hear another word he said. The applause faded. The microphone became little more than static. Your grip tightened on your skirt. The gym blurred.
Suddenly…
You weren’t in Hawkins High anymore.
September 4, 1983
Labor Day Weekend
The party was packed. The bass, blaring. You came under a strict invitation. You had caught a senior’s eye.
Kevin Kline.
You elbowed your way through the mounds of people. Looking for him. A large hand wrapped around your arm. Kevin smirked down at you. He found you. You spent hours with him. His dumb jock friends. You played cornhole and other pointless lawn games in the backyard. Kevin drank with them. You didn’t drink, but you were drunk on him. Thrills shot through you. Head to toe. Each time he’d kiss you.
The attention he paid you. He made you feel special.
Seen.
You did everything to earn it. Everything. You wanted to be perfect. To be his girl.
“Wanna go someplace quieter?”
—
A hand shook your leg. Rattling you.
You snapped back. Applause roaring in your ears.
Billy had leaned in. Looking at you.
“You won…!”
You looked at him. Confused.
“Ms. (F/L/N)?” The mayor scanned the audience.
Billy helped you up. Your legs were shaking. You walked down the bleachers toward the stage. Your mind swirled. Your chest pulled tight. It felt like you could barely breathe. The skirt suddenly felt too tight. The fabric clung to your legs.
Taking four short steps to the stage.
The mayor pulled you into a hug. A broad smile.
He didn’t even recognize you. But why would he?
You didn’t matter.
“Congratulations!” He shook your hand. Handing you a certificate.
You were stiff. Practically lifeless.
FLASH
You blinked.
“Oh!” “Let’s take just one more!” The mayor turned you sideways. “Get my good side.”
FLASH
You were led off the stage. The applause returned.
You weren’t there.
Your feet carried you out of the gym. Only your body remained.
Kevin led you upstairs, shoving people out of the way. Slapping backs. Hollering. Laughing.
He opened multiple doors, peering inside. A glint of white teeth. He smiled. Holding the door open. An empty guest room. You walked in.
The door shut.
THUD
Click
“Kev?”
Kevin turned, leaning against the door. You laughed. Weakly. Waiting for him to laugh too.
“Why’d you lock it?”
He laughed.
“Why d’ya think?”
You had only ever seen warmth in him. He’d only ever looked at you with admiration. Until that moment, he’d only ever made you feel wanted. But in that moment. The world dropped out from under you.
He changed.
Your stomach dropped. Your mouth went dry. He was still smiling. It wasn’t right.
Why?
…
You no longer trusted him.
…
Trapped.
He closed in on you. Running a finger over your lips. He pulled you against him. You looked at the door.
Could you leave? Would he let you? Would it really be that simple?
Kevin tugged your chin, forcing you to look at him. His gaze was intense. Your veins ran cold.
“C’mon now.”
He looked at the door.
“Don’t be a tease.”
No.
There would be no leaving.
That was never an option.
Kevin walked you to the bed.
You started to panic.
You knew what was coming.
Should you fight?
If you fought…
How far would he go to get what he wanted?
It hit you all at once.
You knew nothing about Kevin Kline.
Nothing.
Not what kind of man he was.
Not what he would do if you said no.
You were terrified. Mute. Stiff.
Tears blurred your vision. You couldn’t stop what was happening.
“You’ve been askin’ for it all night…”
The pain was unbearable.
You couldn’t look at him.
…
“(F/N)?”
…
“(F/N)!”
Billy’s voice echoed somewhere far away.
You weren’t in the guest room anymore.
You were curled up on the floor of an empty classroom.
The memories wouldn’t stop. They just kept coming.
You couldn’t bear another second of it.
“Kev, I don’t wanna do this anymore.”
Weakly. Small. Broken.
You clapped your hands over yourself. Trying to make him stop.
Annoyed. Big. Mean.
“Why?”
…
“It’s not like you’re a virgin anymore.”
…
The words landed.
Hard.
Torn apart.
Such a simple sentence.
You didn’t even fight as he continued.
Shocked.
Someone was yelling.
Something.
Somewhere.
Billy ran past the classroom. He missed you.
Completely.
Frantic.
He’d seen you disappear once before.
By the Camaro.
He ran out of the building. He’d check everywhere. He’d burn the whole school down if he had to…
To find you.
A bell rang. Lockers slammed. Voices echoed through the hallway.
You blinked.
Your cheek was cold against the cinderblock wall. You weren’t sure how long you’d been there. You wiped your eyes on the back of your sleeve. Trying to clean yourself up. To get back to class.
The warning bell rang.
You took a shaky breath. You opened the door, walking back into the world. Headed for your locker. You felt calmer. Not better.
Mayor Kline was gone.
You finally let yourself breathe.
You rounded the corner. Toward the senior’s hall.
A hand caught your wrist.
“Hey, baby.” “Long time no see.”
You froze. You didn’t look back.
Maybe you weren’t actually awake.
Maybe this was just another nightmare.
And you’d wake at the last possible moment.
You shut your eyes tight.
Kevin’s arms wrapped around you. Caging you in.
You didn’t want to be here. Anywhere but here.
You’d rather be dead than be in his arms again.
Kevin grabbed your chin. Giving you a shake. “Rude to hide such beautiful eyes.”
He was flirting. Your skin was crawling. You peeked. Knowing the inevitable. He leered at you. You felt sick. Your eyes opened.
Kevin looked horrendous. Black eyes. Gash on his cheek. Nose most likely broken.
Kevin sighed. Happy. “Ah.” “See?” “Always the prettiest.” His eyes drifted over you.
“Exactly how I left you.”
A satisfied smile. Almost proud. Then he ran the back of his hand down your neck. He stopped at your collarbone. Thumb absently stroking. You grimaced, leaning away. Palms braced against his chest.
“...” You looked at the ground. “Go…” “Go away.”
Weak. Small. Broken.
His smile slipped. He frowned. “...What’s wrong with you?” “That’s no way to greet me.” “Have some manners.” You turned away as much as you could in his hold. Kevin dipped his head. Kissing your neck. You went numb. Another kiss.
“Hands off.”
Kevin looked up. Dread drained his features. “You.” Kevin instinctively pulled you closer. You tensed. Billy’s eyes flicked to you. Then back to Kevin.
“Let her go.”
Kevin’s face twitched. He looked at you. Then looked at Billy. “She doesn’t know what’s good for her.” He looked at you. Kindly. “You’ll come around.” A long moment passed.
Then—
He let go.
Your knees gave out.
You fell into a warm chest.
Kevin gave one look back. Then he turned. And walked away.
You watched him. Every step. Your eyes never left him. Billy didn’t move. Neither did you. Your body stayed rigid against his. Ready. Just in case he turned around. Billy’s eyes moved between you and Kevin.
Waiting.
Kevin rounded the corner. He disappeared.
Still…
You stared.
Billy finally spoke. “...The hell was he here for?” The question hung unanswered. He felt your weight settle against him as he helped you back onto your feet.
“...He’s the mayor’s son.”
It came out so quietly Billy almost missed it. He looked at you. The mayor’s son. Guilt settled heavily in his chest. You were still watching the hallway. Billy followed your gaze. Nothing. No footsteps. No voice. No Kevin. Billy looked back at you.
“...He’s gone.”
You blinked. Once. Twice. Your shoulders lowered by the smallest amount. The air left your lungs in one slow breath. You leaned forward. Tentatively. Your forehead came to rest against Billy’s chest. Your fingers curled into the front of his jacket. You closed your eyes. His heartbeat pounded beneath your ear.
Fast. Steady. Real.
…
Your breathing finally steadied. You lifted your head. Your eyes drifted back toward the hallway. The place where Kevin had disappeared. Then… back to Billy.
“Was that you?”
Billy frowned. “...What?”
“When you came over…” You swallowed. “...His face?”
Billy didn’t answer. Your stomach dropped. Silence. You looked at him. Really looked at him.
summary Billy thought the hard part would be winning her over. He was wrong. Now he has to figure out how to love someone whose world has suddenly become far more complicated. As the days pass, Billy and Reader begin carving out a life in the spaces no one else notices—one built on trust, patience, inside jokes, and finding comfort in the wonderfully ordinary.
warnings references to past sexual assault, past trauma/abuse, cursing, trauma response behavior, negative thoughts/self-talk, angst, suggestive themes
word count 5924
note Hi everyone! This is a 2026 rewrite of Part Eight to my Billy Hargrove fanfiction series, She's a Runner. New rewrite titles will always have a * to tell the difference. Currently, more content is being written into the original series. Part Nine of the original series is where the * series picks up.
Inspired by Billy Squier’s She’s A Runner
This is an updated rewrite*
As always, any feedback is much appreciated. Like and comment!
Thanks for reading!
BAM BAM BAM
“(F/N)!” Your mother’s voice thundered through the bedroom door. “(F/N,L/N)!” “Get out here.” “Now.” You shot upright. The clock read 5:56AM. Shit. You’d slept through your alarm.
Looking over, Billy had pulled himself in close during the night. One arm draped around your waist. His curls pressed lightly against your side. Carefully… You lifted his arm. Slipped out from beneath him. And climbed out of bed. Whatever was happening— You didn’t want to wake him.
You eased the bedroom door shut behind you. Your mother was waiting. Arms crossed. Still wearing her hospital scrubs. She looked exhausted. And furious. “Morning, Mom...” You stared at the floor. “Who’s car is in my driveway?” Your stomach tightened. “... Billy’s.” “Billy’s.” A pause. “Who’s Billy?” You rubbed your arm. Avoiding her eyes. “... Just a boy from school.” She let out a slow, disappointed breath. “A boy from school.” Another pause. “You’re sleeping with him?” She stepped toward your bedroom. You moved immediately. Planting yourself between her and the door. “We’re not.” She looked at you for a long moment. Then her expression hardened. “(F/N).” “I told you…” “... to never bring another Kevin home.” Your jaw tightened. “He’s nothing like him!” Your mother scoffed. “They’re all like Kevin!” She pointed. “That’s why he’s in your bedroom!” A sharp exhale escaped you. Clenching your teeth. “Mom!” “It’s not like that!” Your mother looked at you. “(F/N) it’s always like that.” “Men only want one thing.” “And this one’s no different.” She reached for the door. You interfered. “He’s different!” “You just gotta know him!” Your mother laughed. Sadly. “I knew Kevin.” “Look where that got us.” “He’s no different.” “How would you even know?!” Your temper rising. “You’re never home!”
SLAP
Your back hit the door. Your cheek burned. Neither of you moved. Your mother’s hand slowly lowered to her side. Measured breaths. She pointed toward the bedroom door. “I want him out of my house.” “You have five minutes.” Then she turned. And walked downstairs.
Silence.
Billy woke slowly. Not all at once. The mattress beneath him felt… different. Softer. The room smelled faintly of old books. Clean laundry. Shampoo. Something light and citrusy he couldn’t quite place. The little clock on the nightstand ticked steadily. Then—
Voices. Muffled. In the hall.
Billy frowned. His eyes drifted toward the empty space beside him. You. Gone. He pushed himself upright. Every muscle protested. His ribs ached. His knuckles throbbed. His face felt tight where the cuts had started drying.
“... Billy’s.” Your voice. Quiet. Then another. Older. Sharpened by exhaustion. “... Who’s Billy?” Billy stayed still. He wasn’t trying to listen. The walls were simply too thin. “... Just a boy from school.”
Silence.
“... You’re sleeping with him?” Billy closed his eyes. Shit. He rubbed a hand over his face. “... We’re not.” You. Again. Then—
“... never bring another Kevin home.” Billy froze. Kevin. His hand slowly lowered from his face. “... He’s nothing like him!” Your voice. Louder now. More desperate. Billy stood. Slowly. Every instinct told him to open the door. He didn’t. The floorboards creaked beneath his feet. He winced.
“... They’re all like Kevin!” “... Men only want one thing.” “... He’s different!” “... You just gotta know him!”
Billy stared at the bedroom door. Motionless. “I knew Kevin.” A long silence. “... You’re never home!”
SLAP
THUD
Billy stopped breathing.
…
Silence. Complete silence.
His eyes fixed on the bedroom door. His jaw tightened. He’d heard that sound before. Too many times. Not here. Not this house. Not… You. He swallowed. Hard. The bedroom suddenly felt too small. He reached for his jeans. Pulled them on. Then his shirt. Ignoring the ache in his shoulders. His jacket was still hanging over the chair. He picked it up. Paused. Listening. Nothing. Not another word. Not another sound. Just…
Silence.
The bedroom door opened. You stepped inside. Billy was already awake. Dressed. Standing in the middle of the room. Jacket in his hand. He looked at you. Your eyes were red. Your cheek wasn’t. Not anymore. But something had changed. You looked at him. Your eyes met. Then yours dropped to the floor. “You gotta go.” Stepping into his boots. Billy followed you downstairs.
Your mother appeared from the kitchen. You reached the bottom step. Your mother’s hand settled heavily on your shoulder. Billy’s eyes flicked to it. Just for a second.
Billy reached the bottom of the staircase. Billy looked at you. Then he looked at your mother. She gave him a stony look. She nudged you. You looked at Billy. “Goodbye Billy.” Billy looked at your mother. Really looked. Your mother looked angry. Billy knew better. Fear. Billy exhaled. Heading for the door. His hand on the doorknob. Billy looked back. “Bye (F/N).” He opened the door and left.
Leaving the house, Billy walked to the Camaro parked on the curb. He climbed in. Keying the ignition. He leaned back in his seat. Looking at your house. Just for a moment. Before driving away.
You watched helplessly from the living room window. Once the Camaro was out of sight, your mother removed her hand. Returning to the kitchen. “I never want to see that boy in this house again.” She started the toaster. “... I want you to stop seeing him.” “Immediately.” “Do you hear me?” You didn’t answer. Your eyes stayed on the window. You nodded once. Almost imperceptibly. Large tears fell from your eyes. A soft sob escaping you.
“You’ll thank me…” Your mother stated. “... one day.”
Sunday crawled. Neither of you called. Neither of you dared. Both of you wanted to.
Monday finally arrived.
Pulling into Hawkins High, you held your breath. He wasn’t there. You parked anyway. Somewhere else. Just in case. You didn’t see him before the first bell. Not in the parking lot. Not in the hallway. Not leaning against the lockers. Your stomach slowly sank. History. His desk sat empty. Mr. Dawson had already started talking. Five minutes. Then ten. You stopped looking. Fifteen minutes into class— The door opened.
Billy stepped inside.
Hair still damp. Split eyebrow. A fresh bandage across one knuckle. He handed Mr. Dawson a tardy slip. Dawson barely glanced at it. “Take your seat, Mr. Hargrove.” Billy nodded once. He turned.
…
His eyes found yours immediately. You looked at him. Your chest tightened. You looked away. Hiding your face. You didn’t dare keep looking. You already felt like cracked glass. It wouldn’t take much to shatter.
Billy frowned. Something was wrong. You hadn’t smiled. You couldn’t even look at him. Your car. Not where it always was. Now this. Carefully, he lowered himself into his chair.
Mr. Dawson resumed talking. The scrape of chalk against the blackboard. Notebooks opening. Pages turning. Questions. Answers. Someone laughed. The room carried on exactly as it always had. Neither of you did. You kept your eyes on your notebook. The words blurred together. Every few minutes, against your better judgment, your gaze drifted toward him.
Every time—
Billy was already looking. You dropped your eyes again. Billy watched you through the rest of the class. Not openly. Not enough for Mr. Dawson to notice. Just… checking. Waiting. Trying to catch your eye. Trying to understand. Nothing fit.
You’d spent Sunday apart. You’d gone to bed wrapped in his arms. You’d watched him leave your house.
Now…
You couldn’t even look at him.
The bell finally rang. Relief crashed over you. Before Billy had even finished gathering his books—
You were gone.
Billy stepped into the hallway. Students streamed around him. He looked left. Then right. Nothing. Your classroom door was already empty. He checked your locker on the way to English. Empty. By lunch, the knot in his stomach had only grown tighter.
You weren’t sitting with Alexandra. Or Julia. Or Natalie. Erin looked up as Billy approached their table. He didn’t even realize he’d walked over. “You seen (F/N)?” Four confused faces. Small shakes of their heads. “No.” Billy thanked them without really hearing himself.
Then he kept walking.
The library. Nothing. The courtyard. Nothing. The parking lot. Nothing.
It wasn’t until he wandered past the football field that he finally saw you.
Curled beneath the aluminum bleachers. Alone. The wind slipped through the stands. Cold. Grey clouds hung low overhead. You sat with your knees drawn tightly to your chest. Trying to make yourself smaller. A quiet sob escaped you.
Billy stopped.
For one brief second…
He simply watched. You’d been crying for a while.
Every strange look. Every missed glance. Every piece of the morning finally made sense.
Billy walked over slowly. He stopped a few feet away. Leaning against one of the support beams, he pulled a Marlboro from the pack. Tapped it once against the box. Then reached for his lighter. “Found you.”
He lit the cigarette.
Minutes passed.
“... Been lookin’ all day.”
You looked up at him. You didn’t speak. Just looked. Blinking through tears. “...” You wiped at your eyes. “You shouldn’t have.” Billy looked out across the empty football field. A slow exhale. “... Too late.” Silence. You made a shaky inhale. “... Billy.” You stared out at the grass. “I…” “We…” He took another drag. “— can’t see me.” The words hung in the air.
“Yeah…” You sniffed. Billy took a long draw from his cigarette. Silence. He slowly exhaled. “She do that a lot?” You blinked. “What?” His eyes stayed on the field. “Hit you.” Your face changed. Not much. Enough. You looked away. “No.” A pause. “Not usually.” Billy’s jaw shifted. “I shouldn’t have yelled.” He finally looked at you. “... Sounds like bullshit.” You frowned. “Billy…” He held your gaze for another second. Then looked back out at the field. He tapped ash from the end of his cigarette.
“She wants what’s best for me.” Billy huffed softly. “Funny way of showin’ it.” Another long silence settled between you. “Which is why…” Your throat tightened. “I can’t see you.”
Billy stared at the field. Then slowly—
A small relieved smile tugged at his mouth. “Is that all?” You looked up at him. Blinking. “All?” “Didn’t you hear what I said?” Billy nodded. “Heard just fine.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “Billy… you don’t understand.” “If we get caught—” Billy plucked the cigarette from his lips. “So we won’t.” He said it as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “Billy.” “If she catches me with you again…” You swallowed. “She’ll kill you.” “... Or worse.” You didn’t like the glint in his eye. He tapped the cigarette, bringing it back to his lips. “Firecracker.” He grinned. “You’ve got a thing or two to learn about sneakin’ around.” You started to rise. “Billy, no.” He took one last drag. “Relax…” “‘m an expert.” He flicked the cigarette away. Billy held out his hand. You looked at it. Then… you took it. Billy put his arms around you. You leaned into him. He placed a kiss on your forehead.
The warning bell rang.
You shared a kiss. Pulling away you both looked at each other. He smirked. “I’ll come by after school.” Your eyes went wide. You shook your head. His arm around your waist, you both started heading back toward the building. “Don’t you dare!” Billy laughed. “Five ‘er Six?” “Neither!” Another laugh.
That evening, the phone rang. “Hello?” “Firecracker.” You closed your eyes. “... Billy.” “Five er six?” You sighed at the ceiling. “...Six.” “See ya.” “Bye.” Click. You rested your forehead against the wall. “Why?”
Not even ten minutes later—
Knock Knock Knock
You froze. You stood in front of the door. Your eyes narrowed. “Who is it?” Silence. “... Seriously?” You frowned. “Billy?” “Ding ding.” “Winner.” You groaned, opening the door. Billy grinned. “Want your prize?” You blinked. “... It’s not six.” Billy frowned. “What?” “It’s not six.” He looked at his watch. “... It is somewhere.” You huffed, standing aside. “In.” Billy put one foot over the threshold. He paused. “No kiss?” You narrowed your eyes. “In first.” Billy grinned. He stepped inside. You closed the door. He stood watching you. “Ahem.” Unamused. You walked back toward him. One hand resting on his chest. Billy dipped his head. You leaned up. And kissed his cheek. A small pat on the chest. “Hey!”
You started upstairs. “No returns.” “No exchanges.” You paused. Looking over your shoulder. Waiting. Billy stood there another second. Looking at you. Then grinned. “Thought you said no returns.” He followed you upstairs. “Layaway.” Entering your bedroom after you, he looked at you “Ripoff.” You laughed. “You gonna quit?” Billy shook his head. “A man knows what he wants.”
You turned around, walking back toward him. You stopped in front of him. Billy looked at you. You leaned up. Pressing a quick kiss to his lips. He frowned. “That’s no—” You put a finger to his lips. Quieting him. Billy laughed. You laughed too.
The laughter faded. The room grew quiet. Neither of you moved. You were still standing close enough to feel the warmth coming off him. Billy’s smile softened. You rested both palms lightly against his chest. His voice barely above a whisper. “... Yeh?” You looked into his eyes. A tiny smile tugged at your lips. “Yeah.”
Billy chuffed. Hands finding your waist. He dipped his head. Kissing you. You smiled against his lips. Your hands flexed. Sliding up his chest. You rested your arms around his shoulders. He pulled you closer. You stood together. In the middle of your room. You paused. Breaking for air. Billy shrugged off his jacket. Stepping out of his boots. You turned toward the bed. Sitting down. Billy crossed the last few steps back to you. Reconnecting.
You scooted back, stopping at the center of the bed. Billy followed you, climbing on. You laid on your back. Billy above you. He stilled. Pulling away. Billy brought a hand to your face. Stroking your cheek. He looked at you. You smiled. “What?” He smiled softly. “Nothin’.” He leaned down and kissed you.
You weren’t sure how long it had been. You weren’t counting. You weren’t concerned.
Invested in the push and pull between you two. You sighed. Billy gave your lip a playful tug. His lips traveling to your chin. Your jawline. Your neck. His teeth brushed under your jaw. Searching. An electrifying jolt shot down your spine. A soft sigh leaving your lips. Billy smiled against your skin. Retracing the spot with his lips. Massaging. Sucking.
Pulling a moan from you.
Reclaiming your lips, Billy pulled back. He watched you. Your chest rising and falling. You looked at him with hazy eyes. Dazed. He huffed softly. “Like that?” You inhaled. Nodding. Speechless. “Good.” He kissed you again. Billy’s lips traveled. Finding your neck again. Another jolt ran through you. Your toes curled. Your back arched.
You felt hot. Pressure building up in your body. Your breath quickened. “Billy…” “Hm?” His lips resting below your ear. He slowed. “Stop?” You blinked. “N-no.” “K.” He huffed. He licked a thick stripe up your neck and resumed. Lightly biting. You started to squirm. A ball of tension in your lower body. Then…
It hit.
A rush washed over you. Toes curling. Legs shaking. Your hands clamped down on Billy. A weak cry leaving you.
Billy froze. You stilled. Blinking. Billy pulled away. Eyes watching you carefully. Realization hit you like a brick. Your face heated. Your eyes widened. You locked eyes with Billy. Embarrassment flooding you. You covered your face with your hands. “Sorry.” You were waiting.
For the laugh.
The teasing.
Nothing.
Then—
“Hey.” He spoke softly. A hand lightly resting on your arm. “You okay?” Silence. You spread your fingers apart, peeking at him. You nodded slowly. He smiled. “Good.” Shifting. Billy sat next to you. After a while. You lowered your hands. Looking at him. “You’re not gonna make fun of me?” Billy shook his head. “No.” A tender smile. “Honestly?” “Wasn’t expecting that.” He held his hand out to you. “But…” “Nothin’ to be embarrassed about.” You took his hand. Fingers intertwined. You laid there for a moment. Blinking at the ceiling. “Hm.” You smiled. Billy looked over. “What?” You giggled. “You’re dangerous.” You both laughed.
You sat in comfortable silence. Billy’s thumb stroking the back of your hand. A squeeze. You squeezed back. “Billy.” He yawned. “Yeh?” You looked over. “Hungry?” He made a soft huff. “Mhm.” You sat up. Billy climbed off the bed. Offering you a hand. You scooted to the edge and took his hand. You both stood. You sniffed. “Sandwich?” Billy smiled. “Sure.” You left the room hand in hand.
Saturday afternoon you were in the kitchen making lunch.
Knock Knock Knock
“Petey, door!” “Yeah, yeah.” Muffled voices. “Petey, who is it?” Petey shouted over his shoulder. “Billy!” “...” “... Again.” He looked back at Billy. “Hi, Billy!” From the kitchen, you called. Petey rolled his eyes, stepping aside.
“Thanks, Kid.” Billy grinned, entering. Closing the door, Petey returned to his little project. He sat cross-legged on the floor. Glue. Tiny paint pots. Instructions. All set on top of newspaper. Billy walked by. He paused. Curious. “... Whatcha buildin’?” Petey’s face lit up. “Oh!”
Billy had made a terrible mistake.
“It’s a P-51 Mustang. See? These are the decals, but you have to wait until the paint dries because if your don’t they’ll wrinkle. Mom said I can’t use the good scissors anymore because I—” Billy glanced toward the kitchen. He took a side step. Petey was checking off the models he’d completed finger by finger. “And then I finished the B-52 Stratofortress...” “That one took forever.” Billy took another step. “Oh!” “That one’s upstairs.” “I’ll show you!” Billy grimaced. Another step. Petey hustled up the stairs. Billy took two more broad steps into the kitchen. He exhaled.
Relief.
You looked up. You smiled. “Still alive?” Billy dipped his head. Hands in his pockets. “Kid’s got a lot to say.” You laughed. “You had to ask…” Billy nodded. “Yeh.” “Never again.”
You were digging through a cupboard. Shifting items around. Looking behind them. You didn’t look. “Petey?” No Answer. “Petey?!” “What?!” He answered from the living room. “Did you eat our last can of tuna?” “What?” “Tuna!” “Did you eat it?!” A pause. “No!” You frowned. You backed out of the cupboard with a sigh. You looked at Billy. “Billy, I’m sorry.” You closed the cupboard. “I gotta go to the store.” Billy stood there. You raised an eyebrow. “You deaf?” “No.” “I gotta go to the store.” “Yup.” He still stood there. “Let’s go.” You blinked. “You want to come?” He nodded. “Yeh.” You thought. “Ok.” “Just give me a minute.” You left the kitchen and went upstairs.
A few minutes later you came downstairs. Jeans. Sneakers. Light jacket. “Ok, let’s go.” You went to get your car keys. Billy whistled. You looked over. The keys to the Camaro hung from one finger. He jingled them. You rolled your eyes. “Fine.”
Billy opened the front door, leaving for the Camaro. You followed him. You paused at the door. You turned and looked at Petey. He didn’t look up. “I know.”
You pursed your lips. Closing the door without a word.
Billy was leaning on the open passenger door. “Comin’?”
You went to Melvald’s. Pulling into a parking spot. Billy turned off the engine. He climbed out of the car. You opened the passenger door. Billy reached the passenger door. Late.
Hand on the Camaro, he shut the door. “‘m s’posed to do that.” He frowned. “Do what?” Billy motioned at the door. You blinked. You looked at your hands. You flexed your thumbs. “So can I.” Billy locked the car. “Not the point.”
You hopped up the curb. Opening the door to Melvald’s. Billy was behind you. You looked over your shoulder. “You s’posed to do this too?” Billy’s nose twitched. Suppressing a small smile.
The bell jingled as you both stepped inside. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead. The air smelled faintly of cardboard, detergent, and coffee. Metal shelves stretched in neat rows beneath handwritten sale signs. Somewhere a shopping cart rattled over the tile.
You picked up a basket by the front door. You stood a moment looking. Absently mouthing a grocery list in your head. You focused. And walked down aisle 8. Looking at the jars of pickles. You picked one up, rotating it in your hand. You checked the price tag. “Any preference?” Silence. “Billy?” You looked left. You looked right. “... Billy?”
Billy looked around. His eyes drawn to the large KEEP IT WITH KODAK sign. Bright. Orange and Yellow. He blinked. You had disappeared. He pursed his lips a moment. Shrugged. And then wandered off.
Billy ended up in the pharmacy section. Eyes washing over the shelves. He pouted his lip. Picking up a bottle of Midol. He flipped it over. Sniffed. And put it back. His eyes lit up. He approached the sunglasses. He looked it over. Shaking his head. “All crap.”
He raised an eyebrow.
Standing in front of the display mirror, Billy leaned in. He looked himself over. Left side. Right side. Swiping a thumb across his tongue. And smoothing his eyebrows. He tilted his head down. Giving his head a light shake. A hand trussing his curls. He leaned back. Leaned back in. Winked. “Nice.”
Billy ambled down the cosmetics aisle. Eyeballing the nail polish colors. Taking note with an approving nod. About to round the corner, Billy stopped. He took two steps back. A plastic box attached to the shelving. A little flag on the top. TAKE ME. Billy rolled his jaw. Thinking. He looked left. He looked right. He looked back at the box. Pinching. He pulled a paper slip from the box.
Ka-chunk
Billy blinked. Tilted his head. He looked at the paper.
55¢ OFF SUAVE.
He looked at the box. Pulling another slip.
Ka-chunk
A tiny smile.
Ka-chunk ka-chunk
BUY 2 GET ONE…
HAMBURGER HELPER…
Ka-chunk ka-chunk ka-chunk
Pocket.
Ka-chunk ka-chunk ka-chunk ka-chunk
Pocket.
Ka-chunk Ka-chunk Ka-chunk
Pocket
“There you are…” “Billy?” You stood next to him. Billy side-eyed you. He sighed, ducking his head. Turning toward you. You looked at Billy. You looked at his hand. A coupon. You frowned. Looking at his pocket. More coupons. You narrowed your eyes. Holding out your palm. Digging into his pocket. He handed you the coupons. You thumbed through each one carefully. Pulled one out. Kept thumbing. Pulled out another. You finished. Neatly folding the coupons, you tucked them back in his pocket. You looked at him. A small smile. Two coupons in hand. “Thank...” You poked him in the chest. “...You.” And you left the aisle.
Billy watched you wander off. He pursed his lips. Looked down at his chest where you’d poked him. Looked back up. Blinking.
“... Huh.”
A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He shoved his hands into his pockets and followed after you.
You were at the checkout stand, swapping pleasantries with the clerk. “Afternoon.” “Hi, Joyce.” You were taking your items out of the basket. Placing them on the counter. “Quiet today?” You nodded. “Compared to yesterday.” “How’s your mom?” “Good. Working late again.”
Billy slid in beside you. Wordless. Your hips bumped. You leaned lightly against his side as you reached for another can. A small smile on your face. Joyce noticed Billy. “Hi, Billy.” He glanced up. “Hey, Joyce.” Joyce scanned an item.
Beep.
“Find everything?” “Almost.” You froze. “Oh!” Billy looked over. “What?” “Crackers.” “Be right back.” Off you went.
Silence.
Beep. Beep.
A bag rustled. Joyce put another item in the bag. Billy absentmindedly watched you disappear down an aisle. Joyce watched you disappear down the aisle. She scanned another item.
Beep.
She smiled to herself.
“She looks happy.”
Beep.
Billy’s eyes were still on the aisle. A tiny smile. He made a little huff through his nose.
“... Yeah.”
You came jogging back. A box of Ritz crackers in hand. “Found ‘em.” Billy looked at you. Joyce smiled as she reached for the crackers.
Beep.
Joyce handed you the receipt. “Thanks for coming in.” “You too, Joyce.” “Have a good afternoon.” “You too.” Billy had collected the grocery bags. Every single one. You blinked. “Billy…” “Hm?” “I can carry some.” He adjusted the bags in his hands. “Didn’t say you couldn’t.” He headed toward the exit. You smiled to yourself and followed. Billy stopped in front of the door. Hands full. He looked at the push bar. Looked at the bags. Looked back at the door.
…
His jaw shifted.
You walked up beside him. Looked at the door. Looked at Billy. Looked back at the door. You reached over. Pushing it open. Stepping aside. Nothing. Not one word. Billy looked at you. Looked at the doorway.
“...”
He walked through.
You walked to the Camaro. Side by side. “...” “... Thanks.” You didn’t look over. “Mhm.” You stood in front of the trunk. Billy next to you. Billy looked at the trunk. You looked at the trunk. You exchanged looks. He sighed. “Left…” You fished the car keys from his pocket. You unlocked the Camaro and opened the trunk.
Billy loaded the bags into the trunk. Stepping back. He closed the trunk. He turned toward you. “What?” You were looking at him. You smiled. Leaning up, you kissed him sweetly. Your hand lingering on his cheek. Just for a second. A gentle stroke with your thumb. Billy softened. “... What?” You smiled to yourself. “Nothin’.” You walked to the passenger door. Billy standing there. Watching you. You climbed in and closed the door. A tiny smile on his lips.
Billy was still there. Behind the trunk.
…
A small huff and a soft smile. He shook his head. Looking at the pavement.
HONK
Billy jumped. Coming around to the driver’s side. Billy blinked. You had one hand on the steering wheel. You pointed to it with the other hand. Mouthing ‘drive.’ Billy laughed. Shaking his head.
“... Brat.”
Billy got in. Key in the ignition. He looked over. “What was that?” You looked out the windshield. “What was what?” “... That kiss.” You looked at him. Blinking slowly. A comfortable smile on your face. You made a tiny shrug. “Wanted one.” Billy blinked. A little smile blooming. Leaning over. He cradled a hand behind your neck. You leaned in. Kissing.
This time it was slightly longer.
You feel his smile against your lips.
Starting the engine, Billy pulled away. He gave you one last look. Licking his lips. He backed out of the parking space. Heading home.
Tuesday after school. You were on the porch. Billy was walking up the drive. “... Billy?” “What?” “How many times—” You plucked the cigarette from his smug lips. Walking down the driveway, you stamped it out. Tossing it in the neighbor’s trashcan.
Billy rolled his eyes. He followed you down the driveway. Fresh cigarette. He lit it. “It’s just a cigarette.” You looked at him. Serious. “One is all it takes.” “And if she sees it?” You ran your thumb across your neck.
Tcccht.
Billy snorted. Exhaling a plume of smoke. “Drama queen.” “More like, dead woman walking.” You crossed your arms. Waiting. “Why’re you here?” Billy’s eyebrows raised in mock surprise. He plucked the cigarette from his lips. “I need a reason to come over now?” He gestured with an open palm.
He never needed a reason. He just came over… Whenever he damn well pleased. Most times unannounced. You sighed impatiently. “Y’know…” “There’s a big test in Government tomorrow.” Billy made a leisurely pull on the cigarette. “What’s to study?” He flicked his head. “That shit is boring.” Matter of fact. You rubbed your temples. “It’s the structure and organization of it.” “Not Running for President 101.” Billy huffed. “Good…” A small smile. Dropping the cigarette, he stamped it out. You pulled the lid off the trashcan. Pointing. He tossed it like a basketball. Wrist. Hop. In. You shook your head, putting the lid back on.
Billy looked at you. A devious look growing on his face. “Billy…” You backed up. Hands ready. Billy’s grin widened. “Already runnin’.” You took another step back. “Because I know…” “I don’t have time for this.” You warned, smiling despite yourself. “You’ve got better shit to do.” He smirked, lunging at you. You shrieked. Running a wide circle around him. “Billy!” “I have to study!” He caught you. Wrapping an arm around your middle and pulling you in. You huffed, easing in his hold. “What could possibly be better?” You already regretted this. Billy grinned. Smug. “Me.”
Keeping an arm around you, he dragged you into the house. “I have to study!” “Yeah, yeah.” He tutted.
Grinning triumphantly. Billy steered you into your bedroom. His eyes fell to your desk. It was cluttered. Open textbooks spread across it. Flashcards. A half-open binder. Notes.
Billy’s hands dropped to your waist. He rested his chin on your shoulder. Comfortable. You glanced at him. Leaning into him.
“Bed’s free…”
He mused close to your ear. You tilted your head back on his shoulder. “Busy.” You walked out of his grasp, settling back into your chair. Picking up the pages of notes you’d been reviewing.
Billy shucked off his shoes and jacket. Coming up behind you. Hovering. You glanced back but didn't turn your head. “Don’t you also have this test tomorrow?” He didn’t answer. Lolling your head back, you looked up at him. He looked away. “... Maybe…” You poked his chest with your flashcards. “You’ll thank me later if you study now.” You sang. Billy snatched the cards from you. He quickly sifted through them. His nose twitched.
“Really know how to kill the mood.”
He tapped your nose with the flashcards.
Thwack
“Aw, don’t be like that.” You blinked. “We can use the bed.” Innocently. He side-eyed you. “...” An irritated sniff. “Fine.” Getting up, you tossed your study materials onto the bed. Propping the pillows against the headboard. You shimmied your way up the bed. Cozying yourself into the pillows. You pulled the textbook into your lap. Billy looked at you. You looked at him. Patting an empty space next to you. Waiting.
Billy rolled his jaw, looking at the doorway. His nose twitched. He exhaled. Defeated. He climbed on. Resting next to you. You smiled. He settled back into the pillows. He looked at the textbook.
…
“What part you on?” Dread.
“The bicameral legislative system.” You flipped a couple pages, handing him the book. His eyes washed over the content. “... Joy.” “Can we skip this chapter?” You gave him a look. “No.” Billy sighed dramatically. “Fine.” You tapped the page. “Now, tell me how long a session is.” “Too long.” He looked over. “But with you…?” “Not long enough.” You blinked. Putting a hand to his face. You pushed him back. “Fresh.” He laughed. You cleared your throat. “... A session of Congress.” It dawned on him. “... Oh.” “How long?” “... Like a year?” You pouted. Smiling. “Lucky guess.” Billy immediately leaned back. A tiny grin. “Heh.”
Thirty minutes later.
“Who’s in the House?” “—The loud guys.” You blinked. “... Technically.” Billy pointed triumphantly. “See!” “And in the Senate?” “The old guys.” “Pffft.” You sucked in your lips. “... That’s not…” A pause. “... Entirely wrong.” Billy tucked his hands behind his head. You rolled your eyes. “Wise guy.” Billy gave a small nod. “Works, doesn’t it?” You looked back at the book. “...” You looked at him. “I plead the Fifth.” A pause. He looked at you. A small grin. “... Ha.”
A beat of quiet settled over the room. Neither of you reached for the textbook. Billy looked back down at the notes. Flipping one of the flashcards over. “... Huh.” “What?” He shrugged. “I actually get it.” You smiled. “I told you.” He looked between the flashcards and the textbook once more. A thoughtful little huff through his nose. “Guess all that complainin’ didn’t do me much good.” “Nope.” “... Still gonna complain.” You smiled. “I know.”
You looked down. Blinking. You looked at Billy. Sucking in your lips. He laughed. “What?” You pushed the textbook off his knee. Climbing into his lap. A knowing grin pricking his lips. “Hey…” You made a little huff. “Hi.” You stared at each other. Billy put an arm around your waist. You inhaled contentedly. “Billy.” “I have to tell you a secret.” You were serious. Billy looked at you. Looked into space. Looked back at you. Eyebrow raised. “I’ll bite.” You leaned in. Tilting your head. You stopped short of his ear. Kissing his cheek.
You pulled back. A small smile. “Do you have one?” Billy’s face shifted. Confused to mischievous. He chuffed. “‘Course.” You leaned back in. Billy pulling you in. When he was a breath away, you turned your head. Your lips meeting his. Billy stilled. Briefly. A little huff. He kissed you back. Placing a hand against your back. You melted. Shifting your weight, you moved closer. Billy’s hand climbed. Resting at your neck. Holding you.
The phone rang. You paused. Listening. It rang again.
You shrugged, ducking your head back into the kiss.
All this time knowing Billy had awoken something. Within you. Confident. And at times a little risqué. Billy noticed.
Firecracker was back. With a little extra spark.
You grabbed his shirt. Holding on. His hand on your neck, tangled in your hair. His other hand settled on your ass. “Billy?” You breathed in between kisses. He tugged at your bottom lip. He was busy. His lips traveled along the underside of your jaw toward the juncture of your neck. Toward that spot. You both knew. How that spot could make you moan. How he could send you over the edge. With such little effort. But so much satisfaction.
He nipped at you. Repeatedly. Marking the soft skin just below the hinge of your jaw. You mewled. Long breathy notes. From your lips to his ears. There were so many ways he had yet to touch you. But this? Doing this eased the burden. He could imagine. How much more you could fall apart. Because of something so simple. Making you wild to his touch.
The thought he got sometimes. Late at night. Were enough to make him feral. Aching for the chance to get his hands back around you. Billy strained in his jeans. Arousal building.
Breaking. You looked at him with heavy-lidded eyes. Billy’s breath caught. The way your eyes reflected him. Blinking slowly. “Billy?” “Yeh?” You closed your eyes for a moment. Exhaling. “Billy, do you want to—”
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
You both flinched. You huffed, irritated. “What do you want, twerp?!” “Mom called…” Petey spoke through the door. “She’s coming home early.” He wandered away. Footsteps fading.
You looked back at Billy. “Didn’t wanna stop.” You huffed a laugh. Billy groaned. Agreeing.
If you were about to say what he was hoping you were... This afternoon could have fulfilled one of his wildest dreams. And now? Delayed. Again. You kissed him sweetly. “... Sorry.” Billy didn’t answer. Pulling you in for a long passionate kiss. He threw his weight. Pushing you onto your back. He pulled away. Above you. “Better scram, huh?” He smirked. You nodded, breathless.
Billy climbed off the bed. He stepped into his boots. Picking up his jacket and draping it over one shoulder. He returned to the bed. He reached down. Tilting your head up. “See ya tomorrow.” He kissed you upside down.
“... Bye.”
His blue eyes lingered on yours. You smiled. Content. He stroked your cheek. A light kiss. He stood and left the room.
Alone in your room. You huffed. Satisfied. You smiled like an idiot.
summary Some nights change everything. A party. A familiar name. A truth Billy Hargrove was never supposed to hear. By the time the night is over, blood has been spilled, questions have gone unanswered, and two frightened teenagers are left trying to comfort each other with nothing but silence. Some wounds can be bandaged. Others have been waiting years to be seen. As the distance between Billy and Reader quietly begins to disappear, both will discover that sometimes the safest place in the world isn't a place at all—it's another person.
warnings references to past sexual assault, past trauma/abuse, cursing, trauma response behavior, negative thoughts/self-talk, angst, suggestive themes
word count 2879
note Hi everyone! This is a 2026 rewrite of Part Seven to my Billy Hargrove fanfiction series, She's a Runner. New rewrite titles will always have an * to tell the difference. Currently, more content is being written into the original series. Part Nine of the original series is where the * series will pick up.
Inspired by Billy Squier’s She’s A Runner
This is an updated rewrite*
As always, any feedback is much appreciated. Like and comment!
Thanks for reading!
Silence. Kevin chuckled to himself, taking a thoughtful drag on his cigarette. Billy pushed himself off the Camaro. “... What’d you mean…” Kevin didn’t answer. Because he was already talking. Billy crossed the street. Kevin didn’t think anything of it. “What’d you mean by…” Kevin tapped the ash off his cigarette. Smiling. Laughing. “Kid.” He shrugged. “She was so damn shy at first sh—”
CRACK
Tommy pushed open the front door. “He’ll bum me one…” Tommy wandered down the porch steps. Then he looked up. Billy and Kevin were in the middle of the street. Kevin reeled backward. Tommy’s face lit up. “OHHHH!”
CRACK
Kevin hit the pavement. Stunned. Propping himself up… “... The fuck—?” Billy grabbed him by the jacket. Dragging him back up. Slamming him against the IROC. Headlights bouncing across the asphalt. Kevin blinked. Confused. … Then he laughed. “... That serious?” Kevin shoved Billy backward. His fist connected. Billy’s head snapped to the side. … Blood running from his nose. He wiped a stripe of red across his mouth. Looked at it. Looked back at Kevin.
CRACK
Tommy stopped walking. His grin disappeared. “...” “... Shit.”
Kevin’s laugh died. His brow furrowed. Feet spreading. Knees bent. Hands rising. Ready. Finally understanding. Billy kept coming. Kevin shot forward. Fast. Arms wrapping around Billy’s middle. Driving him backward. The two of them crashed against the Camaro with a metallic thud. For a second—
It worked. Billy’s back slammed against the Camaro. His shoulders pinned. Kevin grunted, driving his weight forward. One arm trapped. The other pinned awkwardly between them. “Knock it the hell off, Kid!” Billy didn’t answer. He didn’t even seem to hear him. Kevin adjusted his grip, trying to muscle him down, trying to smother the fight before it got any worse. Billy twisted. Like something trying to get out of a trap. Kevin’s grip slipped. Billy tore one arm free. Kevin’s eyes widened. “... Kid?”
CRACK
Tommy grimaced. Standing halfway between the road and the house. “BILLY?!” He approached. “That’s enough man!” Billy didn’t hear him. He didn’t even look. Arm reeling back. Tommy grabbed Billy’s arm. Trying to pull it back. “BILLY!” “ENOUGH!” Billy lurched after Kevin. Tommy was shoved aside. Stumbling into the curb. Kevin scrambled backward. Billy closed the distance.
Kevin stepped in. Fast. His forearm hooked around Billy’s neck. Pulling him into a tight headlock. Billy staggered. Kevin planted his feet. “Jesus Christ, Kid!” He cinched the hold tighter. Trying to slow him. Trying to make him stop. Billy drove forward anyway. The two of them stumbling across the pavement. Shoes scraping. Grunting. Kevin wrestling for leverage. Billy fighting for movement.
Kevin started turning him. Trying to drag him toward the ground. Billy stumbled. His knee hit the asphalt. For one brief second— Kevin thought he’d won. Until— Billy’s leg hooked Kevin’s ankle. Kevin’s balance disappeared. His grip broke. Both of them hit the pavement hard. Kevin rolled onto his back. The wind knocked out of him. Trying to get his hands under himself. Billy climbed on top of him. Kevin got one last look at Billy. Not angry. Not yelling. Just…
CRACK
Tommy lunged. “BILLY!” Another pair of hands grabbed Billy’s shoulder. Then another. He barely seemed to notice. Kevin rolled weakly onto his side. Billy lurched after him. Still reaching. Still trying. Tommy wrapped both arms around Billy’s waist. “HOLD HIM!” The front door flew open. Music poured into the yard. People spilled outside. “What the hell—?” “Jesus Christ!” “Get him off!” Three more boys piled on. One caught Billy’s right arm. Another his left. A third locked around his shoulders. Billy kept moving. Not screaming. Not cursing. Just… trying to move. Trying to get to Kevin. Tommy looked down. Kevin wasn’t getting up. “... Billy.” Nothing.
Somewhere down the street…
Sirens.
Faint.
Then another.
Louder.
“Cops!”
The yard exploded into motion. Beer bottles abandoned. Car doors slamming. People running. Someone killed the music. The night suddenly felt very quiet. Tommy’s chest heaved. He looked at Billy. Then at Kevin. Then back again. “... You gotta go.” Billy blinked. Once. Like waking up. He looked down at his hands. Blood. His knuckles. His shirt. His jeans. He looked at Kevin. Then, without a word, Billy turned. He climbed into the Camaro. The engine roared. The rear tires screamed against the pavement. The Camaro fishtailed once. Then disappeared into the night. Billy never looked back. He only knew one place he needed to be.
The doorbell rang. Knocking. No. Pounding. The doorbell rang again. And again. It ripped you from your sleep. Eyelids heavy until you recognized the sound. Padding quickly downstairs, you threw on the porch light. Hoping it was nothing serious. There had been a couple times in your life when visits at this hour brought bad news. Including the night your father died.
You opened the door. Annoyed. “It’s two in the—” … Your voice died. Billy. Your eyes shot wide. You came awake instantly. “Billy?” … “What the hell happened?” You frowned. Surprised. Worried. Blood. Bruises. Torn clothes. One hand braced against the doorframe.
…
He was shaking.
Billy looked at you. “Are you okay?” You stood there. Shocked.
What the hell kinda question is that?
You blinked. “Are YOU?” Billy said nothing. Crossing the threshold. Closing the last foot of distance between you. And then— Billy faltered. Instinctively, you threw your arms out. He braced himself against you. His forehead brushed your shoulder. His arms wrapped around you.
…
He was suddenly holding on.
“...”
You blinked. Mouth slightly open. Slowly, carefully, you wrapped your arms around him.
…
Only then did you realize— He was still shaking.
Neither of you spoke. Neither of you knew how to.
…
You stood there. In the middle of your living room. The house quiet around you. The porch light still spilling through the open doorway. Your thumb absently stroked the middle of his back. Small. Slow. Without thinking. Billy didn’t move. Didn’t let go. You weren’t even sure he was breathing.
Just… Holding on.
Like if he loosened his grip for even a second—
…
Something would come apart. Minutes seemed to blur together. Neither of you counted them. You just stood there. Listening to the clock on the wall. The hum of the refrigerator. Billy’s uneven breathing. The occasional tremor that still ran through him.
You frowned. This wasn’t Billy. Billy paced. Billy talked. Billy joked. Billy flirted. Billy filled every room he walked into. This—
This was someone frightened.
You squeezed him gently. “Billy?” He didn’t answer. You tipped your head back enough to look at him. “... Billy?”
Slowly—
He looked down at you. His eyes were wild. Lost. Distressed. He lifted a bloodied hand. Resting it carefully against your cheek. “Are you okay?” You searched his face. Completely bewildered. “Billy…” “It’s nearly two in the morning.” A tiny shake of your head. “Of course I’m okay.” You frowned. “... You’re not making much sense.”
Billy’s breathing slowly steadied. Not much. Just enough. You kept hold of his hand. “I’m okay.” You said it gently. Carefully. “I promise.” Billy searched your face. Like he was looking for something. Anything.
“... No.”
The word barely escaped him.
You blinked. “What?” He swallowed. Hard. His jaw tightened. “You…” His voice caught. “... You’re not.” You frowned. “Billy…” “I am.” He shook his head. Once. Small. Certain. “No.” You stared at him. Completely lost. “I don’t understand.” Neither did he. Not completely. He only knew one thing. Kevin knew your name. Kevin smiled when he said it. And ever since Billy met you…
You’d been carrying something far heavier than either of you knew how to name. A tear finally slipped free. Billy scrubbed angrily at his face. “I’m sorry.” You stepped closer. “For what?” Billy laughed once. Broken. Without humor. “I should’ve…” His voice disappeared. “I should’ve…” He couldn’t finish.
You reached up carefully. Cupping his bruised cheek. Mindful of every cut. “Billy.” Softly thumbing his cheek. “Tell me?” His eyes squeezed shut. “I can’t.” Silence.
Then Billy stepped back. One step. Toward the door. You watched him. That awful feeling settling in your stomach. Not again. Not like the last time. “Billy?” He reached for the doorknob. You moved first. Planting yourself between him and the door. “No.” He looked at you. “Move.” “No.” “... Move.” You shook your head. Resting a hand gently against his chest. “Stay.” His eyes closed. For a long moment…
Neither of you moved.
After a long moment, you glanced toward the still-open front door. Cold March air drifted into the house. “... Hang on.” Reluctantly, Billy let you go. You crossed the room. Closed the door. Turned the lock. The house fell quiet again.
When you looked back—
Billy was exactly where you’d left him.
Shoulders slumped. Head lowered. Not looking at anything. You watched him for a second. Thinking. Then quietly walked back over. You stopped in front of him. Holding out your hand. Nothing else. No words. Just…
Waiting.
Billy looked down at it. Then up at you. His expression tired. Lost. After a long moment—
His fingers curled weakly around yours. You nodded once. “Okay.” You gave his hand the smallest squeeze. “C’mon.” He followed. Slowly. Like he wasn’t entirely sure where you were taking him. Upstairs. The old wooden steps creaking beneath your feet. Into the bathroom. You flicked on the light. It felt impossibly bright. You pointed toward the edge of the tub.
“Sit?”
Not an order. An offer. Billy looked at you. Then quietly sat down. You disappeared beneath the sink. The old metal first-aid tin scraped softly against the cabinet floor. A clean towel. Cotton balls. Bandages. Rubbing alcohol. You set everything on the counter. When you turned around—
Billy hadn’t moved.
Still sitting exactly where you’d left him. Staring at the floor. You lowered yourself onto the tile in front of him. Cross-legged. Looking up. You held out your hand again. Waiting. Billy watched you. Then… Slowly… Placed one bruised hand in yours. You smiled. Small. “Thank you.” He blinked. Like the words surprised him. Carefully, you wrapped the warm towel around his knuckles. Beginning to wash away the blood.
Warm water slowly turned pink. Then red. You worked in silence. Carefully wiping dried blood from his knuckles. Turning his hand over. Cleaning between his fingers.
Neither of you hurried. Neither of you spoke.
When you finished, you looked up. Holding out your other hand. Billy understood. Without a word, he placed it in yours. You smiled. Small. “Thank you.” Again. He watched you for a moment. Like he wasn’t sure why you kept thanking him. You simply kept working.
Fresh water. Another rinse of the towel. More blood disappearing into the sink. By the time you finished, his hands finally looked like hands again. Bruised. Split. Swollen. But clean.
You wrung out the towel one last time. Billy quietly pulled his hands back into his lap.
“... I’m fine.” You nodded. “I know.” Silence. The towel rested loosely in your hands. You didn’t move. Didn’t argue. Didn’t reach for him. You just waited. Billy stared at the floor. His breathing slow. Uneven. After a while…
He looked at you. You met his eyes. Your gaze drifted toward the cut beneath his eyebrow. Then back to him. “... Your face?” Another pause. “Can I?” Billy’s jaw shifted. Almost like he was deciding whether he had the energy. Then…
A tiny nod.
You rose onto your knees. Carefully closing the space between you. One hand rested lightly against his cheek. Waiting. When he didn’t pull away…
You gently tilted his chin toward the light. The bruise beneath his eye was already beginning to darken. The split in his eyebrow wasn’t deep. Just messy. You dabbed at it with the corner of the towel. Billy winced. “Sorry.” He gave the smallest shake of his head. “It’s okay.” It was the first thing he’d said that wasn’t asking about you. You reached for a fresh cotton ball. The bottle of rubbing alcohol clicked softly against the counter. Billy eyed it. Then looked back at you. “... That gonna sting?” You couldn’t help it. The tiniest smile. “... Probably.” He sighed. Resigned. “... Okay.” You warned him first. “Ready?” Another little nod. Only then did you touch the cut. “Shit…” He hissed. “Too much?” You pulled back and waited.
You waited until the sting passed before cleaning the last of the cut. Then another. And another. Eventually… There wasn’t much left to do. You gathered the used cotton balls. Closed the first-aid tin. Clicked the lid shut. The sound seemed oddly loud. Billy slowly pushed himself to his feet.
“... Thanks.” His voice was rough. Barely above a whisper. You looked up. He was already turning toward the bathroom door. Instinct. Go home. Disappear. Pretend tonight never happened. You followed him into the hallway. Billy paused. One hand resting against the bannister. Like he wasn’t entirely sure he had the energy to walk back downstairs. You watched him for a long moment. Thinking.
“... You don’t have to go just yet.” Billy looked over. “You just…” You glanced toward your mother’s bedroom. “... have to be gone before Mom gets home.” Silence. Billy stared at the floor. His eyes glistened for a second. Just a second. Then he nodded. Small. Almost imperceptibly. You smiled. Relieved. You held out your hand. Waiting. Billy looked at it. A tired breath escaped him. Then his fingers slipped into yours. This time…
He didn’t seem surprised when you led him away.
You led him into your room. Closing the door softly behind you. Billy stopped just inside. Looking around. The room was exactly what he’d expected. Not a thing since the night he leaned in her doorway and said, “All this?” “For me?” Everything was where it belonged.
You looked at him. Then at his shirt. Then back at him. “... Um.” Billy followed your eyes. “... Oh.” Another pause. You rubbed the back of your neck. “Would you…” You pointed vaguely to his shirt. “... mind?” Billy looked down. The front was streaked with dried blood. “... Right.” He peeled off the leather jacket first. Then carefully pulled the t-shirt over his head. You immediately busied yourself, straightening the blankets. Pretending very hard not to notice. “... Thanks.” You mumbled.
Billy folded the shirt over itself. Trying to hide the bloodstains. “I’ll wash it.” You shook your head. “No.” Another tiny pause. “I just…” You looked at the bed. “... don’t think my comforter would be very happy.” Billy looked at the comforter. Then at you. A tiny breath escaped through his nose. Not quite a laugh. Just…
The smallest hint of one.
You smiled too. Relieved to hear it. You pointed toward one side of the bed. “That’s yours.” Billy blinked. “... Mine?” “For tonight.” Another pause. “You have to leave before Mom gets home.” He nodded once. “I know.” You climbed beneath the blankets. Billy hesitated for another moment. Then slowly climbed in beside you. Leaving more than enough space between the two of you.
Silence.
You exhaled quietly.
“... You don’t have to apologize tonight.”
Billy stared at the ceiling. The words hung there. He swallowed.
“... I know.”
But it didn’t sound like he believed you. Another long silence settled over the room. “... I scared you.” You turned your head toward him. “No.” “... You worried me.” A tiny difference. But an important one. Billy closed his eyes. “I’m sorry.” You looked at him for a long moment. Then reached over. Not for him. Just for the bedside lamp.
The room slipped into darkness. Only pale moonlight filtering through the curtains. “... We’ll talk tomorrow.” Your voice was barely above a whisper. “If you want.” No pressure. No expectation. Just…
Tomorrow.
Billy let out a slow breath. The kind that seemed to empty something out of him. “... Okay.” It was almost inaudible. You settled deeper beneath the blankets.
Neither of you said good night.
You didn’t need to.
The room fell quiet. Only the ticking of the little clock on your dresser. The occasional creak of the old house settling. Neither of you spoke again. You were both too tired. Billy lay stiffly for a long time. Like he wasn’t sure he belonged there. You stayed on your side. Giving him the space. Eventually…
The room grew still.
Sleep came quietly.
…
Somewhere in the middle of the night—
Billy moved. Not awake. Not really. Just… Instinct. His body seeking warmth. Seeking something solid. An arm drifted around your waist. Careful. Even asleep. His forehead settling lightly between your shoulder blades. He exhaled. Long. Slow. The first truly relaxed breath he’d taken all night.
…
Then—
His eyes opened. Only a sliver. Confusion. Realization. Oh. His arm. Around you. He immediately started to pull away. Freezing halfway. Because— You had already moved closer. Not much. Just enough. Your back settling gently against his chest. Your hand finding his forearm. Not holding him there. Simply… Resting.
Like your body had answered before you had. Billy stayed perfectly still. Waiting. You sighed softly in your sleep. Melting another inch into him. And somehow—
Without a single word—
Everything from the past few weeks…
The awkwardness.
The pulling away.
The flinches.
The distance.
Felt just a little smaller.
Billy closed his eyes again. His arm relaxed. Not tighter. Just… Comfortably.
The smallest smile tugged at one corner of his mouth.
summary After the disastrous movie date, life returns to normal—or at least, it tries to. As the weeks pass, Billy notices the little things: shorter hugs, quieter laughter, wary glances over your shoulder, and excuses that never quite add up. Desperate to bring back the fiery girl he's falling for, he keeps searching for answers, never realizing he's collecting pieces of a puzzle he can't yet see. Then, at Tina's party, one chance conversation with a former Hawkins legend changes everything. By the end of the night, Billy finally has a name. And nothing will ever be the same.
warnings references to past sexual assault, past trauma/abuse, cursing, trauma response behavior, negative thoughts/self-talk, angst, suggestive themes
word count 6591
note Hi everyone! This is a 2026 rewrite of Part Six to my Billy Hargrove fanfiction series, She's a Runner. This rewrite contains the remainder of the original Part 5. Essentially the original content has now shifted 3-4 parts behind. Meaning more writing. But also meaning more content. Yay! There is also new content, and the chapter has been expanded. The original Parts 5 will remain posted. New rewrite titles will always have an * to tell the difference.
Inspired by Billy Squier’s She’s A Runner
This is an updated rewrite*
As always, any feedback is much appreciated. Like and comment!
Thanks for reading!
He didn’t know how long he’d been here.
In the Camaro.
In your driveway.
All he knew is that he couldn’t bring himself to even turn the ignition until the light in your room went dark.
Only then—
Did he leave.
Leaving Birch Street, Billy drove.
The roads empty. The February cold.
Biting. Sharp.
Streetlights. The edge of town. Nothing.
Back county roads.
Radio on. Radio off.
Window down. Window up.
Cigarette. Another cigarette.
Thoughts he didn’t want.
Thoughts he couldn’t stop.
Billy swallowed hard. His eyes burning. “Shit.”
He jammed another cigarette between his lips.
The lighter sparked.
The Camaro surged forward.
Too much gas. The tires chirping.
Billy cursed under his breath. Easing off.
Hands tightening around the wheel. The speedometer climbing.
Fifty.
Sixty.
Seventy.
The February wind screaming through the cracked window.
He didn’t care.
Didn’t care about cops.
Didn’t care about tickets.
Didn’t care about anything.
He just needed—
Needed—
Needed…
Billy let out a frustrated sound.
Slamming the heel of his hand against the steering wheel.
“Fuck!”
Silence.
Nothing.
The radio crackled.
Van Halen.
He shut it off.
Nothing.
His breathing.
The engine.
The road.
And his thoughts.
God, his thoughts.
Because he couldn’t stop seeing you.
Not crying.
Not shaking.
Not the mascara.
Not even the theater.
No.
It was your face.
Looking up at him.
Completely exhausted.
Half asleep. Half gone.
And trusting him anyway.
Billy swallowed hard.
You apologized.
For what?
For crying?
For running?
For hiding?
For needing him?
And somehow—
Through all that.
Somehow—
You thought he deserved an apology.
That Billy deserved better.
That you weren’t deserving.
Billy gripped the wheel tighter.
Jaw clenched.
He hated it.
Hated that look in your eyes.
Hated the tears.
Hated not knowing.
Hated not being able to fix it.
But most of all—
He hated that somehow—
Somewhere—
You’d gotten it in your head—
That he deserved better than you.
Because Jesus Christ.
After tonight—
Billy couldn’t think of anything more terrifying.
He rubbed a hand over his face. Exhaustion settling into his bones. The cigarette between his fingers had long since burned down to the filter. He flicked it out the window. Watching the tiny orange glow disappear into the darkness behind him. The roads stretched on. Black. Empty. Endless.
And for the first time in a long time, Billy didn’t know where he was going. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not with you. Not with any of it. He hated that. Hated feeling lost.
Billy Hargrove understood anger. He understood fists. He understood getting hit. He understood screaming and pain and slamming doors. Those things made sense. They had shape. They had rules.
But this? This awful, helpless feeling sitting in his chest? He didn’t know what the hell to do with it. There wasn’t anything to punch. Nothing to yell at. Nothing to outrun. And somehow, that scared him more than anything.
Without even realizing it, his speed began to drop. Seventy became sixty. Sixty became fifty. The white lines on the road no longer raced past him. The February wind still whipped through the cracked window, but the anger had gone out of him.
Leaving only exhaustion.
And you.
Because every time he closed his eyes, he saw you. Not crying. Not shaking. Not terrified. No. He saw you afterwards. Safe. Curled up against him. Listening when he shushed you. Trusting him.
Billy scoffed softly.
“Dummy.”
The insult held no heat. Only affection. And something else. Something he wasn’t ready to name. Something he wasn’t even sure he remembered how to feel.
So he drove.
Until eventually—
Without meaning to—
He found himself on Cherry Lane.
His house.
His driveway.
His porch light.
“... Huh?” He looked around. Looked at the house. Looked at the steering wheel. And scoffed softly. “Dumbass.” Like he’d somehow expected to end up somewhere else.
The engine died. But he didn’t get out. He couldn’t. Not yet. Didn’t want to go inside. Didn’t want Neil. Didn’t want questions. Didn’t want Max. Didn’t want anything.
So he stayed. Seat reclined. Hands folded over his stomach. Staring up through the windshield. His neck hurt. His shirt was ruined. There was mascara on his shoulder. His hair was a mess. And for some reason—
He couldn’t bring himself to care. He closed his eyes. Just for a minute.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
Billy jerked awake. “What the—” Sunlight. Birds. Morning. His neck screaming. And Max Mayfield standing outside the driver’s side window. Arms crossed. Looking profoundly unimpressed. Billy blinked. Max blinked. Billy rolled the window down. “... Morning.” Max stared. “Did you sleep out here?” “No.” She demonstrated with a hand. “You literally just woke up.” He cleared his throat. “No I didn’t.” Max squinted. An inhale. About to comment. When she faltered. Eyes softening. Not by much. But still. “Jesus.” Max got a better look at Billy. “What the hell’d she put you through?” Billy blinked. Looking down at his shirt. Crumpled. The smudged mascara. He caught a glimpse of himself in the rearview mirror. He didn’t respond for a beat. Fighting something down. “Wasn’t her.” Max raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” “Wasn’t her.” The answer was quicker this time. Automatic. Certain.
Max backed up as Billy threw open the driver’s door. Stiffly climbing out of the Camaro. He groaned immediately. Every muscle in his body protesting. Neck crooked. Shoulder stiff. Billy hissed. “Jesus Christ.” Max snorted. “You look like you got mauled.” “Thanks.” “No, seriously.” “Thanks, Max.” “You smell like an ashtray.” Billy rubbed at his eyes. “Keep talkin’.” “You swim in a dumpster too?” “No.” “... Car?” “No.” Max stamped her foot and motioned to the car. “You’re literally standin’ in front of it.” Billy squinted at her. And for the first time since last night—
A ghost of a smile. Tiny. Tired. “Smartass.” Max grinned. “Learned from the best.”
Sunday arrived. And somehow, the world was still turning. Five blocks away, you hadn’t moved much either. Your curtains were still drawn. The house was awake. You weren’t. A soft knock came from the other side of your bedroom door. “Kiddo?” You groaned. “Mm?” “Are you alive?” Barely. “... Yeah.” “Good.” A pause. “You want breakfast?” “No.” Another pause. “Tea?” “Mom, you know I hate tea.” “Anything?” “No.” “Kid.” “I’m tired.” Your mother’s voice softened. “I know.” Another beat. “Come down if you change your mind.” You heard her footsteps retreat. And the house continued on around you.
The television. Cabinets opening. Petey complaining about something.
Normal.
Cruelly normal.
Eventually, you sat up. And immediately regretted it. Everything hurt. Your eyes stung. Your head ached. Your face felt swollen. Even breathing felt like too much work. You stared blankly at your bedroom wall. At your desk. At your books. At that baby blue sweater you wore last night. At nothing.
You felt awful. Not sad. Not panicked. Not anything. Just awful. Eventually, you peeled yourself out of bed. Maybe a shower would help. Maybe.
The hot water helped. A little. Enough to make you feel human again. Enough to stand. Not enough to feel better. When you emerged, hair damp and wrapped in an oversized sweatshirt, the mirror informed you that you still looked terrible.
Wonderful.
You brushed your teeth. Splashed water on your face. Stared at yourself for a moment. And felt nothing.
Then you quietly returned to your room. No breakfast. No books. No homework. No energy. You climbed back into bed. Face first. Staying that way. Listening to the sounds of the house around you.
Five blocks away on Cherry Lane, Billy looked much the same.
Max had not been exaggerating. He looked awful. His hair was a mess. His neck was killing him. His shirt looked like it had been dragged behind the Camaro the whole way home. And after one look in the mirror, Billy decided that maybe Max had been too kind.
“Jesus.”
The shower water was hot enough to peel paint. Billy stood beneath it anyway. Eyes closed. Hands braced against the tile. Not moving. Not thinking.
At least—
Trying not to think. But every time he closed his eyes, he saw you. Curled up beside the Camaro. Shaking. Crying. Looking up at him. Trusting him. Billy groaned. Resting his forehead against the wall.
“Christ.”
Eventually, the water turned cold. Eventually, Max started pounding on the bathroom door. “Billy!” Nothing. “Billy!” Still nothing. “BILLY!” “What?!” “You drown in there?!” “No!” “You been in there forty minutes!” Billy blinked. “... Shit.” “Mom says quit hoggin’ the hot water!” “Tell Susan I died!” “You’re full of crap!” Billy snorted. And for the second time that morning, he smiled. Tiny. Tired. But real.
By early afternoon, hunger had finally won. Not by much. You were stubborn. But your stomach wasn’t. Your mother had disappeared to bed a while ago. Graveyard shift in a few hours. The house quieter now. Petey somewhere. The television still murmuring softly in the living room.
Blanket wrapped around your shoulders, you stood in front of the refrigerator. Staring. The original plan had been simple. A sandwich. Leftovers. Anything. Something easy. Something cold. Something that required absolutely no effort. Instead, you stood there. Doing nothing. Thinking nothing. The fridge humming quietly. Cold air spilling out around your legs.
“(F/N).” Nothing. “(F/N).” Nothing. “You’re burning money.” You blinked. The voice cutting through the fog. Slowly turning, you found Petey standing in the doorway. “What?” Petey pointed. “The fridge.” “Oh.” You shut the door. Petey rolled his eyes. “Mom’ll kill you.” He wandered over to the table and pulled out a chair. Sitting backwards in it. Watching. The silence stretched. Neither of you speaking. Neither of you needing to. Unspoken language.
You finally spoke. “Do we have Spaghettios?” Petey blinked. Then disappeared. Cupboards opening. Cabinets slamming. And then. “Yep.” You shuffled after him. Petey already holding the can. “Got it.” “No.” Petey frowned. “What?” “No.” “What?” “Stove.” Petey squinted. “... You don’t trust me?” “Not a bit.” Petey looked offended. “You literally taught me.” “And I regret it every day.” “I’ve made Spaghettios before.” “You also caught a pot of boiling water on fire.” “THAT WAS ONE TIME!” “The burrito?” Petey gasped. “Character assassination.”
A tiny smile peeped up on your face. Gone as quickly as it came. Petey saw it anyway. And said nothing. The can opener clicked. The tiny saucepan came out. And you hovered. Not because Petey needed supervision. But because, somehow. Watching your little brother carefully stir Spaghettios over the stove felt manageable. Simple. Safe.
And for the first time today, you sat down.
Five blocks away, Billy had finally remembered that people were apparently supposed to eat. Not that he was hungry. No. Just tired. The shower had helped. Some. Enough. He still felt like hell. Wandering into the kitchen, Billy opened the refrigerator. Then a cabinet. Then another. A fistful of crackers. Half a banana. A couple bologna slices hanging from his mouth. A coke. Whatever was left of the Honey Smacks. The ingredients made absolutely no sense together.
Billy didn’t care. Arms full, he disappeared down the hall before anyone could talk to him.
The sanctuary of his room.
The door shut.
Quiet.
He dropped onto the bed. Back against the wall. One leg stretched out. The other bent up. Picking absentmindedly at whatever he’d brought with him. Chewing because apparently his body had decided that was necessary.
Not because he wanted to. His thoughts had settled. Not stopped. Never stopped. Settled. Which somehow made them worse. Because there wasn’t anger anymore. No frustration. No seventy miles an hour. No steering wheel. No cigarettes. Just silence.
And you.
God.
You.
Billy stared at the opposite wall. At nothing. At everything. Thinking about your tears. Thinking about your smile in the diner. Thinking about you singing. Thinking about your room. Thinking about the stupid pig from Charlotte’s Web. Thinking about your laugh. Thinking about you wrapped around him in the driveway. Thinking about the way you listened when he shushed you. Thinking about the mascara stain he’d scrubbed out an hour ago. Thinking about you apologizing.
Dummy.
Billy scoffed softly to himself. And immediately reached for another cracker. Because apparently Nabisco solved things. It didn’t. Nothing did. So he sat. Chewing. Staring. Thinking. While the world outside his room carried on without him.
Five blocks away, on Birch Street, the house felt too big.
It was five o’clock. Your mother had left for work. Petey had disappeared to a friend’s house with promises of pizza and video games. And somehow, you’d ended up on the couch. Blanket still around your shoulders. Mindlessly watching whatever happened to be on TV. Not really watching. Just staring.
The changing colors danced across the room. People laughed. A commercial came on. Something else started. You couldn’t have told anybody what you’d watched. The wall clock ticked quietly on the wall. The refrigerator hummed. Outside, somebody’s dog barked.
For the first time all day, you were alone.
Just you.
And your thoughts.
Which, unfortunately, had nowhere else to go.
He stayed.
The thought drifted through your mind.
He stayed.
Of course he did. … He felt bad. … He pities you.
No. He’s a good person. He’s kind. He’s patient. He stayed—
That’ll end. … Always does. … No one wants you. … You’re damaged.
The phone rang. You looked at the phone. You didn’t move. The television kept playing.
Ring.
You pulled the blanket tighter.
Ring.
Why do people always call when you want to talk the least?
Ring.
You stared at the receiver. Tired. So so tired. Halfway through the fourth ring, you finally leaned over and picked it up.
“... Hello…?”
Five blocks away, Billy sat up. Relief rushed through him. Immediate. Visible. Thank God. He hadn’t realized how tense he’d been until he heard your voice. Soft. Sleepy. Exhausted. But you. Still you. Billy needed a second. A second to form a thought. “... Hello?” “Yeh.” He breathed. “It’s me.” A pause. “Why’re you calling?” “What, no hi?” “... Hi.” He snorted softly. “Hi.” Another pause. “So…” Billy fingered the phone cord. “... Food poisonin’, huh?” Silence. “What?” “Must’ve been somethin’ at the diner.” “Billy.” “Yeh?” “You’re an idiot.” He huffed out a laugh. A pause. “You’re a shit poison checker.” Billy laughed. You let out the tiniest sound. Not quite a laugh. Not quite a sigh. But enough. He could hear the smile. Billy smiled. Tiny. Tired. “There she is.” “What?” “Nothin’.” A pause. “...” Billy sniffed. You shifted beneath the blanket. “You call for a reason or should we switch to tin cans?” Billy blinked. “What?” “The tin cans.” Silence. “The phones.” Another beat. “On a string…” Billy stared at the wall. “... Baby.” “What?” “That’s so stupid.” You huffed softly. “You’re so stupid.” “Yeh.” “Billy?” “Yeh?” “You breathe like a bulldog.” Billy blinks. “What?” His nose twitched. “You squeak.” “...” “Low blow Hargrove.” “You started it.” A long pause. “Whatcha doin’?” “TV.” “Anythin’ good?” “All in the Family.” “Jesus.” “What?” “Who watches that?” “... Someone with an actual sense of humor.” “You’ve got no sense of humor.” “And you’ve got no sense.” He could hear her sticking her tongue out. Could see it. “Baby, that’s cold.” “Ipso fatso.” “What?” “Watch it.” “Why?” “Because it’s hilarious.” Billy huffed. “Sounds like punishment.” “If that’s punishment, I can die happy.” You both laughed softly. And somehow—
The silence that followed didn’t feel heavy anymore. It wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t uncomfortable. It just… Was.
Five blocks apart. Two bedrooms. Two telephones. And somehow—
It almost felt like sitting beside each other. Neither of you speaking. Neither of you needing to. Just listening. To breathing. To the television. To the occasional squeak of bedsprings when Billy shifted. To the rustle of the blanket when you shifted. Quiet. Easy. Safe.
The way a forehead resting against another felt. Just over five blocks instead of five inches.
“Billy?” “Yeh?” “...” “Thanks.” “For what?” “Nothin’.” He smiled.
And neither of them hung up.
Monday morning came. Life resuming its usual schedule. You felt uneasy, pulling into the Hawkins High parking lot. Your eyes scanning the rows of cars. Searching. An unconscious exhale escaping you when you found what you were looking for. You smiled softly. Turning down that row, you honked your horn. Billy stood there. Hands in pockets. The Camaro parked beside him. And Billy— Standing in an empty parking space next to it. Idiot. Who does he think would park next to him? You blinked. Nevermind. Billy pulled out a gloved hand and waved you in.
You smiled. Pulling into the space. Turning off the car, you climbed out. Billy grinned. And before you knew it, the two of you were standing beside the Camaro. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Hey.” “Hi.” “Sleep any?” “Some.” You toed the pavement. “You?” Billy closed his eyes. A proud look on his face. “Like the dead.” You blinked. “You certainly look like it.” Billy blinked. “Ouch.” You smiled. Billy smiled. Silence.
Neither of you moved. Neither of you seemed entirely sure what happened next. Not after Saturday. Not after the driveway. Not after the phone call.
You stepped forward. Billy stepped forward. A pause. Blinking at each other. Until—
Too tired to think about it—
You simply leaned against him. Not saying anything. Not asking. Just… There.
Billy froze. Only for a second. And then understanding, softened his face. “Oh.” Arms. Strong and warm and immediate. Wrapping around you. Holding you close. You melted. Easing into his hold. And Billy? He pretty much melted too. “Morning, Firecracker.” “Morning.” You muffled against his chest. And without really thinking about it, you settled closer. Your forehead resting beneath his chin. Cheek pressed against his jacket. Your body deciding, yes. Here. Billy smiled. Soft. Small. And suddenly very aware that he wasn’t getting rid of you anytime soon. Not that he wanted to.
Quite the opposite. One of his hands drifted lazily up and down your back. The other resting securely around your waist. Not speaking. Not needing to. Neither of you. And somehow—
Standing in the middle of the Hawkins High parking lot—
The world felt quiet. Billy closed his eyes. Content. Completely. Unable to help himself, he pressed the tiniest kiss to your forehead. And smiled against your hair.
“Missed you.” The words slipped out softly. Carelessly. Without thought. Without performance. Without Billy even realizing he’d said them.
BANG.
Somebody’s junker of a car backfired two rows over. You, practically jumping out of your skin. Not a startle. Not a flinch. Your entire body jerked. A full hop. Hands instantly grabbing onto Billy. Your head whipping around. Searching. Eyes wide.
Billy blinked. “Jesus.” The words escaped before he could stop them. His arms tightening instinctively. “S’alright.” You looked around. Alert. Rows of cars. Students. Nothing. Just a couple sophomores laughing and pointing at one of their rusted-out trucks.
Your breathing slowed. Slowly. The tension easing. Your grip loosening. And only then did you realize you nearly climbed him like a tree. You blinked. Billy blinked. You grimaced. Embarrassed. “... Sorry.” Billy frowned. “For what?” You pulled back. Still in his arms. But now— Space. “Nevermind.” But Billy was still looking at you. Because he’d expected a curse. Maybe a laugh. A little jump. Not… That.
Not the way your fingers had dug into his jacket. Not the way your eyes darted around. Not the look on your face. Like you’d expected something. Like you’d been waiting for something. And Billy— Billy filed it away. Because he didn’t know what it meant. Only that— It wasn’t nothing.
By Wednesday, Billy had started noticing things. Little things. Things that, on their own, meant nothing. Probably. Maybe. Except they kept happening. And Billy was dangerously low on “probably”.
Thursday afternoon found the two of you “studying” at the café on the town green. Sitting together in a booth along the wall. You were reading. He was too. Or rather— You were studying. Billy had abandoned the lie twenty minutes ago. His textbook sat open. Untouched. One hand absently riffling through the pages like a deck of cards. The other wrapped around his coffee. Ding. The café door opened. Your eyes lifted. Billy blinked. A mother and two kids. Nothing. Back to reading. Ding. An elderly couple. Back to reading. Ding. A guy in a business suit. Back to reading. Billy frowned. Because you looked. Every time. You stayed looking. Watching. Waiting. And only after the person had made it all the way inside— Only then— Did you return to your book. Billy squinted. “Hm.” “What?” “Nothin’.” You went back to highlighting. Billy went back to pretending to read. Ding. The door opened. Your eyes snapped up. But Billy’s didn’t. Not this time. Because he wasn’t watching the door. He was watching you. And for the rest of the afternoon— Every time the door opened— You looked. Every time. And every time— Billy noticed.
Monday morning, Billy was standing out in the cold of the Hawkins High parking lot. Stamping his feet every now and then to keep them from going numb. He was already halfway into his second cigarette. You were late. Not for school. But you were late. For Billy. He rolled back his sleeve and checked the time. Eight minutes until class. Not like you. Finally— Your car crested the far hill into the parking lot. Billy stepped aside as you pulled in and parked. Turning off the car, you climbed out. Billy stared at you. Cigarette dangling from his lips. “What?” “You’re late.” He mumbled. Keeping the cigarette in place. You blinked. “No I’m not.” Billy frowned. “You’re usually here way earlier.” You shrugged, pulling your backpack from the back seat. “There was roadwork.” You didn’t look at him. Shutting the door and locking the car. You glanced at him. “Is the complaints box too full?” Billy blinked. Smirking. “It’s a bottomless pit.” You cracked a small smile. A barely audible huff.
After school, Billy stayed behind for basketball practice. By the time he finally emerged from the gym, the sun had been gone for hours. The parking lot sat mostly empty. Wind whistling between the rows of cars. Cold enough to sting. Throwing his bag into the back seat, Billy climbed into the Camaro. The engine rumbling to life beneath him. Headlights cutting across the asphalt. Thinking. Just thinking. Leaving Hawkins High, Billy took a left. Then another left. A right. And another left. His nose twitched. Roadwork? Not a dot of orange in sight. No signs. No cones. No crews. Nothing. Billy slowed at the stop sign. “... Hm.” The sound left him quietly. Not suspicious. Not angry. Just— Hm. And after another minute, he drove on. But Billy Hargrove hated mysteries. And lately— You were becoming one.
The following weekend, Billy was beginning to worry. Things that had once been nothing were steadily becoming something. Little things.Things that used to come naturally no longer seemed to. Affection was becoming hesitant. Morning hugs became shorter. A few beats. Then you stepped away. Hands buried in your pockets. You still sat beside him. Still leaned on him. Still sought him out. But only briefly. And more and more—
Billy noticed that you were usually the one deciding when. When to hug. When to touch. When to hold hands. And Billy— For all his faults— Was trying. Trying not to crowd you. Trying not to assume. Trying not to get it wrong. One afternoon, the two of you walked side by side through town. Billy’s hand turned outward. Wordless. Offering. His thumb barely brushing the back of your hand. You flinched. Not a little. Not a start. Recoiling. You both froze. Billy looked at you. You looked at his hand. Then your own. Betrayed. Horrified. Like you’d just watched it strike him. And for one terrible second— Billy’s heart stopped. Because he’d seen fear before. But not—
Not that. Not directed at him. Not from you. “... Baby?” Your eyes snapped up. Silence. You looked back down at your hand. “... Sorry.” Billy frowned. “For what?” But you couldn’t answer. Because you didn’t know. And neither did he.
As the weeks dragged on, Billy began noticing something else. Something harder to explain. Because you still smiled. Still rolled your eyes. Still called him an idiot. But somehow— You seemed quieter. Not silent. Just… Further away. Billy could make the most idiotic statement of his life. And you would smile slightly. A quiet— “Aha.” Subdued. Dwindling. At first, he figured you were tired. Which you were. But eventually— Billy started missing something. Not your voice. Not your smile. Not even your laugh. He missed the fight.
Because before— Firecracker would’ve had something to say. Always. A smart remark. A jab. An insult. Something. Anything. Now? Sometimes you’d just smile. Small. Tired. And let him win. And Billy hated winning. One afternoon, Tommy called Billy’s shirt ugly. Billy immediately looked at you. Waiting. Because normally—
Normally Firecracker would’ve joined in. Made things worse. Declared him an affront to the global fashion industry. Something. Instead— You just smiled. Tiny. “Aha.” Billy blinked. Tommy laughed. Billy laughed. But something about it felt… Off. Because somewhere along the way— He’d realized his favorite part wasn’t winning. It was you fighting back. And lately— You weren’t throwing punches anymore.
Billy sat in the Camaro. Loosely resting his wrists on the steering wheel. Staring out the windshield. Frowning.
Earlier that evening, the two of you had gone to Family Video. Usual. Typical. Familiar. Billy was poking around the adventure section. You ambling behind him. Not really interested in anything. Just there. The front door opened. Noise packing into the store. Rowdy. Boisterous. Boys from a neighboring high school. The group spread throughout the store. One guy entering the aisle you and Billy occupied. The aisles weren’t exactly spacious. And adding another big body somehow made it even smaller. You didn’t like it. Didn’t think about it. You just left. The aisle. The store. Billy found you a few minutes later. Leaning against the brick exterior. Arms crossed. Blankly staring at your shoes. “You alright?” You blinked up at him. “Yeah.” A pause. “Just wanted some air.” Billy looked at you. You looked at Billy. And after a second— He nodded. “Alright.” Nothing else. No questions. No pushing. Just Billy shrugging and heading back toward the car. You quietly followed.
He started the engine. The two of you sat there. “You want some food?” You looked out the window. “Pass.” Billy blinked. “Y’sure?” You nodded. “Yeah, pass.” “The Spot?” You shook your head. “No.” Billy frowned. “Baby, we love The Spot.” No answer. “I just wanna go home.” And Billy— Billy frowned.
It was Tuesday. School had been out for over an hour. You and Billy were walking together through the halls. Talking. Not about much. Homework. Tommy being an idiot. What to make for dinner. Nothing. You nodded absently, looking ahead. And then—
You stopped. Midstep. Billy continued another few paces before realizing he was suddenly talking to himself. He turned. “Firecracker?” Nothing. Your eyes were fixed. Further down the hall. A couple. Just a guy and his girl. Wrapped in each other’s arms. Laughing. Smiling. Normal.
And that was the problem.
The guy’s face.
That stupid expression. Dopey. Happy. Glassy-eyed. Looking at his girl like she’d hung the moon. And suddenly—
Ice. From your scalp to your toes. Your stomach twisted. Your heart picked up. You hated it. Not him. His face. You hated his face. You stood there. Not even hearing Billy call your name again. Finally— You moved. Billy watched as you approached. Only—
Not beside him. You kept so close to the lockers your shoulder nearly brushed them. Giving the couple nearly the entire width of the hallway. Eyes never leaving them. Watching. Waiting. Until you reached the doors. Only then did you look away.
Billy stared. At you. At the couple. Back at you. The boy kissed his girlfriend’s forehead. The girl laughed. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. And somehow—
Billy felt more unsettled than he had after the car backfired. Because this time— He didn’t even know what he’d just witnessed. And that scared him. Because every other thing could be explained. This? This didn’t fit. And Billy Hargrove hated things that didn’t fit.
By March, Billy was in a foul mood. Not angry. Not really. Just… Miserable. Because every time he thought things were getting better— Something else happened. Another little thing. Another mystery. Another piece of you quietly slipping away. And Billy hated it. Hated feeling helpless. Hated not understanding. Hated watching. Most of all—
He hated seeing you unhappy. Because God. You’d been unhappy for weeks. And Billy would’ve moved heaven and earth if he knew how. Unfortunately— Billy Hargrove had no idea what heaven and earth looked like.
So he settled for the next best thing.
“Party at Tina’s Friday.” He’d asked you three weeks ago. Thinking maybe it’d help. Something loud. Something normal. Something stupid. Something that might bring back that playful, fiery girl he missed so damn much. You turned him down before he’d even finished the sentence. “Party—” “No.” Billy blinked. “I wasn’t finished.” “No.” “Tina’s—” “No.” “Baby—” “No.” Not angry. Not annoyed. Not even looking at him. Just— No.
And that somehow hurt worse. Not because you said no. Billy respected no. Always. But because lately— Everything was no. And he missed yes.
So Friday night found Billy Hargrove sitting on Tina’s couch. Beer in hand. Absolutely miserable. Tommy was talking. Carol was talking. People were laughing. Music was blaring. And Billy couldn’t have cared less. Because every five minutes—
His thoughts wandered. Wondering if you’d eaten. Wondering if you’d slept. Wondering if you were reading. Wondering if you were checking over your shoulder. Wondering if you were sitting in your room. Wondering if you were okay. And wondering—
For the thousandth time—
What the hell happened to you. Finishing his third— Maybe it was his fourth drink— Billy eyed the other partygoers. Nothing was helping. A large crash erupted in the living room. Followed by cheering. Billy sighed. Maybe something marginally entertaining was finally happening.
Skirting the edge of the living room, Billy stood next to Tommy. “What’sis?” Tommy looked at him. Grinning big. “That’s Kevin Kline!” He elbowed Billy hard, encouraging him to look. Billy didn’t even care to glance. “He’s the former King o’ Hawkins.” “Best wrestler we’ve ever had.” “Team captain.” “Took us to state.” Tommy kept rambling. “He always brings the party.” “Everybody loves him.” Tommy paused. Tommy’s eyes shot wide. “HOLY SHIT!” Billy jumped. “What?” Tommy gave Billy an enthusiastic shake. “Kevin Kline!” Billy blinked at him. “Y’already said.” “No, no no no.” Tommy grabbed Billy’s sleeve. “Dude, c’mon!” “You gotta meet this guy!” Billy groaned. “Tommy—” “Solid dude.” “I swear.” Tommy dragged Billy to the far corner of the living room.
His back was turned. Encircled. By girls. A foot resting on top of the stacked twenty-four packs of beer he brought. Laughing. Storytelling. Tommy rushed up. Exuberant. “KLINE!” Kevin turned around. He was big. Not monstrously. But taller than Billy. Maybe six-three. He was older. Broader. Wrestler’s shoulders. Denim jacket. Confidence. Congeniality. And Billy just stared.
Kevin laughed. Hand shielding his eyes, squinting. “HEEYO!” Kevin took one broad step. Laughing. “Who the hell let Hagan in?” The crowd around him laughed. “Kev!” Tommy nearly spilt his beer. “Holy shit!” Kevin threw an arm around him. The obnoxious hand clasp. The back slap. Bro half hug. “Lookit you!” Kevin laughed. “You got uglier!” Tommy was grinning ear to ear. Basking. He blinked. “Oh, oh!” A bounce in his step. “You gotta meet someone.” Reaching behind, Tommy grabbed Billy by the shoulder and dragged him forward. “C’mere!” Billy blinked. “What?” “Shut up.” Tommy planted Billy in front of Kevin like it was show and tell. “Old king.” He pointed at Kevin. “Meet new king.” Billy closed his eyes. “Tommy…” “I’m serious!” Kevin shifted his weight. Then looked Billy up and down. Slowly. The hair. The jacket. The smile. The attitude. And then— Kevin barked out a laugh. “No shit, huh?” Billy shrugged. “Guess.” Kevin grinned. “Jesus.” Looking back at Tommy. “You little bastard.” Tommy puffed his chest. “Told ya.” Kevin shoved his hand out. “Kevin Kline.” Billy shook it. “Billy Hargrove.” Kevin smiled. Broad. Bright. “Attaboy.” And somehow—
Billy felt it. This subtle little click. Not enough to mean anything. Not enough to understand. But something. Like seeing a face you’d forgotten. Or hearing a song you couldn’t quite place. Something. Billy frowned slightly. And then Kevin laughed again. Big. Vibrant. Slapping the top of the beer cases. “So this is the kid takin’ all the glory now, huh?” Tommy nearly burst with pride. “Told ya!” Kevin pointed at Billy. “You play ball?” “Basketball.” “Ahhh.” Kevin nodded approvingly. “Good. Means your knees ain’t shot yet.” The girls around him laughed. Billy smirked. “Give me time.” Kevin barked out another laugh. “Attaboy!” And just like that—
Billy relaxed. Because Kevin Kline was easy. Beer. Stories. And bullshit. Billy hadn’t realized how badly he’d needed that. “So…” Kevin grinned. “How bad’s Hagan still suckin’ with the girls?” The room exploded. Tommy nearly dropped his beer. “HEY!” Kevin howled. Billy laughed. Actually laughed. For the first time all night. And Kevin grinned. There it was.
“See?” he slapped Billy on the shoulder. “Kid’s alright.” And somehow— That weird little click happened again. Small. Familiar. Wrong. Billy frowned. Only for a second. Then Tommy shoved another beer into his hand. And the feeling disappeared.
Kevin fit parties the same way Billy fit the beach. Effortlessly. He knew everybody. Everybody knew him. And more importantly— Everybody wanted his attention. Girls. Guys. Didn’t matter. Kevin Kline held court. And Billy— Against his better judgment— Found himself liking the guy. Because Kevin was funny. Stupid. Loud. And completely full of himself. Which somehow made him entertaining. “Hey sweetheart.” Kevin pointed at one of the girls perched beside him. “Go make me a sandwich.” The girl burst out laughing. “Make your own.” Kevin slapped his knee. “See? This one’s got attitude.” Another girl stood up. “Ignore him. I’ll make you one.” Kevin pointed triumphantly. “See?” He looked around the room. “Why can’t they all be like that?” The girls booed. Kevin laughed. “Ahhhh, I love ya too.” Billy snorted into his beer. “Dumbass.” Kevin grinned. “Kid, if they ain’t threatening murder, they ain’t interested.” The room exploded.
Even Billy laughed. Actually laughed. Not because it was funny. Because Kevin somehow made everything sound ridiculous. And for the first time all night— Billy wasn’t thinking. Which was nice. Because thinking sucked lately.
Eventually, Kevin patted his pockets. “Shit.” “What?” “Cigarettes.” He looked at Billy. “You smoke?” Billy raised an eyebrow. “What kinda question is that?” Kevin barked out a laugh. “Attaboy.” The two of them slipped out the front door. Tommy yelling after them. “Save me one!” “Buy your own, Hagan!”
Cold air. Quiet. And that’s when Billy saw it. Parked across the street. Low. Black. Aggressive. Chevy IROC-Z. Billy stopped. “... No shit.” Kevin grinned. Billy looked back. Across the street. His own Camaro. And then back. Kevin followed his gaze. And started laughing. “No way!” Billy laughed too. “You’re kiddin’.” “Kid, you got taste!” And just like that—
They were gone. Leaning over hoods. Talking engines. Horsepower. Exhausts. Girls. Music. Nothing important. Everything important. Padding each other’s egos. And Billy— Billy genuinely liked him. Maybe too much. Because Kevin Kline reminded Billy of something. Not somebody. Something. Like looking ten years ahead in the future. If things had gone right. If life had been simpler. If all you needed was a Camaro and enough charm. And honestly? Billy could see it.
Leaning against opposite Camaros, Billy found himself smiling. Not the grin. Not the smirk. Not the one he wore around teachers and girls and idiots. Just… Smiling. Because Kevin Kline was easy. Just cars. Music. Girls. Bullshit. Simple. And honestly—
Billy hadn’t realized how badly he’d missed simple. Kevin laughed. Big. Easy. Confident. The kind of laugh that made people laugh with him. Girls smiled at him. Guys gravitated toward him. Hell— Even Tommy still looked at him like he’d hung the moon. And Billy understood why.
Because Kevin Kline fit. In his skin. In his life. In himself. Like he’d never doubted any of it. Twenty-one years old. Former King of Hawkins. State wrestler. Nice car. Money. Stories. People hanging on his every word. And for the first time all night—
Billy found himself wondering. Not about you. Not about Hawkins. Not about anything. Just… Himself. Because wasn’t this the plan? Wasn’t this what happened? Wasn’t this what you became? King of high school. Then college. Then some job. A wife. Kids. Another Camaro. A house.
Wasn’t this it?
Wasn’t Kevin Kline exactly what Billy Hargrove was supposed to become?
And God help him—
Billy liked the answer. Because Kevin looked happy. Easy. Like life made sense. And maybe— Maybe if Billy kept winning. Kept smiling. Kept performing. Kept moving—
He’d end up there too. Twenty-one. Laughing. Leaning against his Camaro. Telling stories. Everybody loving him. No more Neil. No more screaming. No more fists. No more survival. Just… Easy.
Billy took a long drag from his cigarette. And smiled. Because for the first time in weeks— He wasn’t thinking about tomorrow. For the first time in weeks— He wasn’t thinking about you. And honestly? That felt kinda nice. Which was why— When Kevin asked— “You got a girl?”—
Billy didn’t even realize the smile that spread across his face. Small. Soft. Real. “Yeh.”
Kevin grinned. “Oooooh.” “Attaboy.” He took another drag from his cigarette. “What’s she like?” Billy shrugged. “Quiet.” “Attaboy.” Kevin cut in. “A man with discriminating taste.” Billy started again— “She’s smart—” “Sure, sure.” Kevin dismissed it with a wave. “Pretty?” Kevin waited for an answer. Billy smiled. “Oh yeh.” Kevin pointed at him. “Now we’re talkin’.” Billy smiled again. Billy stopped. Smiling to himself. Kevin grinned. “Ahhhh.” “There it is.” Billy blinked. “What?” “That stupid look.” Kevin laughed. “You’re gone, kid.” Billy rolled his eyes. “Shut up.” “Nah.” Kevin leaned back against the IROC, cigarette dangling from his lips. “Nah, seriously.” “Everybody chases the loud girls. “Party girls.” “Cheerleaders.” “They’re easy.” He shrugged. “But those quiet little goody-goodies?” He let out a low whistle. “Phew.” “Different breed.” Billy only half-listened. Kevin kept going. “Bookworms.” “Church girls.” “Always keepin’ to themselves.” “Like nobody notices ‘em.” He chuckled to himself. “Truth is?” “They notice plenty.” Kevin gave a sly wink. “Quiet girls don’t stay quiet forever.” Billy’s smile faded a fraction. Not angry. Not yet. Just… Listening.
Kevin screwed up his face. Thinking. “Had this one little underclassman…” He laughed softly. “Cute.” “Quiet.” “Serious.” Billy finally looked over. Kevin smiled to himself. “Took forever to get her to loosen up.” Then he mimicked an hourglass with his hands. “Had the most amazin’...” Billy froze.
That strange little click. Again. Only stronger this time. Kevin frowned in concentration. “Jesus…” “What the hell was her name…” He started running through names. Half to himself. Snapping his fingers. Then—
Your name.
Billy stopped breathing. Kevin looked up. Saw Billy’s face. The blood draining from it. The smile disappearing. And suddenly— Kevin lit up. “Ohhh!” He laughed. “No shit.” “That’s your girl?” Billy swallowed. Slowly. “... Yeh.” Kevin let out a long, appreciative whistle. Waiting. Waiting for Billy to spill. Nothing. Kevin frowned. “Not yet?” Billy frowned. “What?” Kevin laughed. Big. Friendly. Certain. “Kid.” He clicked his tongue. “You won’t be disappointed.”
summary Billy and Reader set out hoping for nothing more than a normal date night. For a little while, they find exactly that—laughter comes easily, old walls begin to crumble, and Reader starts to look like herself again. Then a familiar voice cuts through the crowd, and in an instant, everything unravels. Faced with fear he doesn't understand and pain she can't explain, Billy discovers that sometimes the strongest thing he can do isn't fix the problem—it's simply to refuse to walk away.
warnings references to past sexual assault, past trauma/abuse, cursing, trauma response behavior, negative thoughts/self-talk, angst
word count 6054
note Hi everyone! This is a 2026 rewrite of Part Five to my Billy Hargrove fanfiction series, She's a Runner. This rewrite contains the remainder of the original Part 4 and a portion of the original Part 5. There is also new content, and the chapter has been expanded. The original Parts 4 & 5 will remain posted. New rewrite titles will always have an * to tell the difference.
Inspired by Billy Squier’s She’s A Runner
This is an updated rewrite*
As always, any feedback is much appreciated. Like and comment!
Thanks for reading!
Saturday night. Your movie date with Billy was just a few hours from now. It was technically a date two days after Valentine’s Day. But that’s not what it was. It was just a date. Nothing flashy. Nothing fancy. Just you. And Billy. You wanted to look done up, but you didn’t want to look like you were expecting a teddy bear and roses. You just wanted something simple. But nice. So you let Natalie take you shopping.
You were in your room, looking over your shoulder. Checking yourself in the mirror hung on your closet door. You weren’t so sure about this. You put on the oversized sweater that Natalie convinced you to buy. You centered it on your frame. Only for it to slump off your shoulders. You pulled the sleeves back up. They slid right back down. Bare shoulders. It felt illegal to be wearing something so revealing. At least in comparison to what you typically wore.
Natalie swore up and down that this sweater suited you. “(F/N), it’s so you!” “I dunno.” You checked yourself in the dressing room mirror. “It doesn’t stay on my shoulders.” Natalie giggled. “That’s ‘cause it’s not supposed to.” You exhaled. You did like blue. And Natalie had just spent the past forty-five minutes telling you that pastels are ‘in’ right now. She eventually convinced you. You bought it.
Standing in your bedroom, you pulled the sleeves up higher. All the way to your collar. You gave a sigh of resignation. The sleeves slowly sliding back down. Resting below your shoulders. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as you thought. You shivered. The cold of your room nipping at the exposed skin. You fiddled with the cuffs. Maybe if you rolled the sleeves a couple times, your naked shoulders wouldn’t be so obvious. Not much better. You unrolled the sleeves. You huffed in frustration.
Pulling your hair up, you twisted and secured it in a loose bun. A very messy bun. You were never particularly gifted with hairstyling. Your mother was always at work. You had never been taught the essential skills that all the other girls at school seemed to have mastered. You barely knew a bobby pin from your elbow.
Fussing with yourself, you didn’t even hear him.
“All this?”
You startled. “Jesus!”
“For me?”
Billy was leaning against your open bedroom door. Your face flushed. He looked you over, approving. You blinked at him. You barely had a sweater on. Your jeans weren’t even zipped. No shoes. No earrings. Only one sock. You lost track of the other. As far as you were concerned, you were a haphazard wreck.
“I’m not ready yet.” you said dumbly. Billy smirked, crossing his arms. It dawned on you. Your eyes narrowed. “Why’re you up here?” You looked out the door. “Did Petey let you up here?” As if your tween brother had become the gatekeeper of the citadel. Billy chuckled, eyes crinkling. “I gave him five bucks.” He popped a stick of gum in his mouth. You frowned. “Gonna kill him…” Eyes returning to the mirror, you smoothed over your sweater.
Stepping into your room, Billy’s eyes washed over every nook and cranny. Tossing over pillows, you looked for the missing sock. He frowned. “No music?” Your head popped up from under the bed. “What?” Billy motioned to your room. “No tape deck.” He walked over to your dresser. It was like he was searching for the crime scene tape outline of the non-existent sound set up. “No stereo?” He turned a full circle. “Radio?” You furrowed your brow. “I have a Walkman.” You pointed at your desk. Billy scoffed. Picking up the music player, he clicked it open and examined the cassette tape inside. “Creedence Clearwater Revival?” He blinked twice. Like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “It’s good.” Billy laughed. “Yeah, for my grandpa.” You stared at him. Deadpan. He held his hands up in surrender. Placing the Walkman back on your desk. “Just saying…” He wandered.
You finally found the sock. Half hidden under a blanket in the window seat. You sat down and slipped it on. Billy looked like a gawker at the Louvre. “You never seen a girl’s room before?” He was awfully quiet. Almost reverent. He smiled. “Not yours.” He stood in front of your built-ins. Books shelved top to bottom. Alphabetized. Laid horizontal if you hadn’t read them yet. He ran a finger down a random book spine. He laughed. “You actually kept this?” You looked over. Billy pulled a book from the shelf. “Phantom Timebooth.” “Tollbooth.” you corrected. “Whatever.” “No, it’s The Phantom Tollbooth.” Billy’s nose twitched. “Sounds made up.” You looked at him. “Billy, it’s fiction.” “Ok, smartass.”
He rattled the book in his hand. “Really?” “You kept this?” You blinked at him. “You make that sound like a bad thing.” Putting the book back, Billy scanned the shelves.“You seriously kept these relics?” You looked at him funny. “Yeah.” “What about—” He pulled another title. “Johnny Tremain.” He waved the book at you. He flipped through the pages cover to cover. “Read that.” “And?” you asked. “Worst three weeks of my life.” You blinked. “It took you three weeks?” Billy narrowed his eyes at you. “Charlotte’s Web?” He found it and pulled it forward on the shelf. “Bet you cried.” You snorted. “No.” He shrugged. “Pig had it coming.” You laughed. “If you read the book you would know that Wilbur doesn’t die.” Billy tensed. He frowned. “Then who croaked?” You stared. “Charlotte.” “... The bug?” “Spider.” “Whatever.” He paused. “Still had it coming.” You crossed your arms. “Well ‘some pig’ you are.” Billy blinked at you. “What?” He didn’t get it. You shook your head.
Getting up, you went to your closet pulling out a boot. Dropping it on the floor. Looking for the other.
Billy turned to face you. “Do you also enjoy torture?” You looked at him in confusion. “What?” He swept an arm down the length of your bookshelf. “These violate the rules of war — the Geneva Convection… Or whatever.” You huffed, a smile blooming on your lips.
Moving on, Billy crossed the room. Examining the items on top of your chest of drawers. His eyes settled on a small tarnished metal box. Imprinted with wispy flowers and accented with pearls. “Billy.” He looked over his shoulder. A hand already on it. “If you lose anything in there.” You made a slicing motion across your throat. Billy barked out a laugh. “What’s in here?” He lifted the lid. An inlaid mirror and two-tiered drawers. Fading red velvet lining.
It was your jewelry box. He expected as much. But there were some things that he hadn’t. Pendants. A gold ring. His thumb brushed over the ring. Old. Real old. Scrollwork etched into the band. Not the kind of thing you’d buy at Kmart. Billy’s smile dimmed slightly. He gingerly closed the lid.
Billy stopped, his gaze resting on a small framed picture on your desk. It was the only family photo in your entire room. You and, Billy assumed, your father. Giant smiles on both of your faces. You had found a seashell bigger than your little hands could hold. Your father helping you hold it. Cupping his hands over yours. “California.” You said quietly, standing next to Billy. He looked at you. “What?” you asked. Billy didn’t quite know how to form the right words. You crossed your arms. “You think only Californians get beach privileges?” Billy blinked. A soft smile. For once you may have stumped him. Billy looked at the picture. Then at you. And smiled. “Y’turned out alright.” You frowned. “As opposed to what?” Billy barked out a laugh. “Jesus Christ.” He looked at you with soft eyes. “Always gotta argue?” “With you…?” You thought. “Yes.”
Zipping up your boots, you looked yourself over. “I’m ready.” Billy drank you in. A hand reaching out and caressing the bare skin on your shoulder. You locked eyes. A subtle shudder running down your back. “I really like this on you.” he complimented. Pulling you in, he placed a couple of chaste kisses to the juncture of your shoulder. He paused. Lips brushing your skin. “-- But I’d like it better off you.” Another small kiss. You scoffed, swatting his chest. “Stop it.” You were playful. “We’ll miss the movie.” Billy hummed against your shoulder. Unconvinced. Another couple of kisses on your shoulder. He grumbled. “Ok.”
Coming downstairs, you shrugged into your coat. Billy following behind. Hands in his pockets. Looking far too pleased with himself. Petey was sprawled across the couch. An open bag of Doritos balanced on his stomach. “Hey!” You snapped your fingers at him. Petey shot up, holding the Doritos. “Chips?” You narrowed your eyes. “You remember what Mom said about ships.” Petey squinted back. “You remember to get a life?” Billy barked out a laughed. You rolled your jaw. Pointing an accusatory finger. “This house better be in one piece when I get back.” Petey rolled his eyes. “Sheesh.” Billy had already wandered over to Petey. “I will.” Petey offered up the bag. He gave Petey a nod of acknowledgement. You stared at them both. Petey rolled his eyes. “I’ll have you know that I am a pillar of responsibility.” “Last week you tried to microwave a burrito… in foil.” Petey pointed the bag at you. “That was one time.” You crossed your arms. “Mhm.” Billy took another couple chips. “Kids got style.” Billy commented through crunching. You pointed a finger at Billy. “Don’t encourage him.”
Zipping your coat, you headed for the front door. “Lock the doors.” Petey sighed dramatically. “I know.” Your back turned. “Don’t answer the phone.” “I know.” Your hand on the doorknob. Petey looked at Billy. Billy looked at Petey. Wordless. Subtle. A quick low five. Silent. Professional. Legally Binding. Petey grinned. Billy grinned back. “And…” You turned back around. “Don’t you dare cook anything.” Billy laughed. Giving Petey a pat on the shoulder. Billy returned to your side. Petey rolled his eyes. He rolled his whole head. “I knoooooow.” Billy opened the front door for you. “See ya, kid.” “See ya, Hargrove.” The front door shut behind you.
Petey beamed. Five dollars. The best investment he’d made yet.
Stepping out onto the porch, you pulled your coat tighter. The cold February air nipping at your cheeks. Billy hopped down the front steps. Jogging to the car. “You’re gonna slip and die.” He grinned over his shoulder. “I won’t.” He slipped. But he did not die. You stood by while he picked himself up off the ground. He looked offended. “There’s not even ice!” “There’s black ice.” You chimed in. Billy blinked. “Black?” “Yeah.” Walking carefully, Billy opened the passenger door for you. “It’s invisible.” He got a weird look on his face. “How’s it black…” He shut your door. Moments later climbing in on the driver’s side. “... and invisible?” You shrugged. “Just is.”
The keys jingled in his hand. Before Billy could turn the ignition—
You paused. “...” Billy froze. “What?” You narrowed your eyes. Lips pursed. “...” A grin was spreading across his face. You looked around. Something was different. The dashboard. The seats. The floor. “...” Billy waited. Patiently. Smugly. Like the Cheshire Cat. You shot him a side glance. “It’s suspiciously clean.” Billy barked out a laugh. “Suspicious, huh?” You sniffed. “And…” Another sniff. “It reeks of pine.” Billy burst out laughing. The stupid little green tree dangling from the mirror.
“Don’t like it?” You looked at him. Offended. “I said suspicious.” Billy smirked. “Didn’t say I didn’t like it.” He was pleased. “You noticed.” You stared. “Even a rock would notice.” He laughed again. Billy tried—and failed—not to smile. His jaw rolling. You looked at him. “You cleaned your car?” Billy scoffed. “No.” He started the engine. The Camaro roaring to life. A pause. “... Maybe.” You laughed. “Billy.” “What?” “You cleaned.” You dragged out the word. “... Your car.” “No.” Another pause. “... Mostly.” You smiled bright. “Why?” Billy looked offended. “What d’you mean why?” The heater was humming. “‘Cause you’re in it.” He said it as though that was the secret to the universe. You looked over the car. “I’ve been in this car enough times to own a third of it.” “Never clean those times…” Billy cracked up. “Jesus.” “I’m not splitting custody.” The laughter softening. “If we don’t shut up.” He shifted into reverse. “We’ll never get there.”
The drive took you out of Hawkins. Not far. But far enough. Hawkins shared one movie theater with two neighboring towns. There would be a new theater much closer eventually, but construction still wasn’t finished. Starcourt Mall had been going up for months. Everyone in town had an opinion about it.
The closer you got to the theater, the busier the roads became. Cars. Neon signs. Actual traffic. McDonald’s. Compared to Hawkins, this was practically metropolitan. “Hungry?” Billy asked. You looked over. “A little.” Billy nodded. “Good.” “‘Cause I am.” You laughed. “I didn’t ask.” “I know.” He smirked. “Manifestin’.”
Neither of you had ever been to the area much. The movie wasn’t for another hour. So Billy simply drove. One hand on the wheel. One hand holding yours. Neither of you really knowing where you were going.
“There.” You blinked. “What?” Billy pointed. A little diner. Bright lights. Red lettering. THE SPOT. You blinked. “There’s no x.” Billy furrowed his brow. “... What?” You looked at him. “They didn’t mark it with—” You made one with your fingers. Billy barked out a laugh. “Jesus Christ.” And with absolutely no reason beyond the fact that it existed—
Billy pulled into the parking lot. Settling into a space, he killed the engine. The two of you sat there. Blinking. Having gotten closer, the view was not nearly as good as it had been from the highway. The neon sign buzzed. A line of accent lightbulbs stretched above the diner’s windows. Every third, seventh, eleventh, and fifteenth bulb seemed burnt out. The paint on the exterior was peeling. The chrome trim dull as tin. A crack ran across one of the front windows. The place wasn’t exactly run down. But it looked like nobody had changed a thing since Watergate.
“...” “...”
Neither of you moved. You both stared. You squinted through the windshield. “Probably gonna get food poisoning.” Half a beat. “Yup.” Billy was completely unphased. Another pause. He blinked. Hand already on the door. “Well…” You shrugged. “Oh well…” Opening the passenger door, you climbed out. Billy rounded the front of the Camaro and took your hand. “If we die, we die together.” You gave the exterior one final judgmental glance. “Speak for yourself.” Billy laughed. “Cold.” “Can’t die until after graduation.” “Fair.”
Holding the door open, Billy ushered you inside. “Evenin’.” He said. A woman behind the counter looked up. Her lips in a flat line. “Mm.” Billy paused. Blinking. “... Tough crowd.” She picked up two menus. “Booth?” Her raspy smoker’s voice somehow sounding even less enthusiastic than her face. Billy looked at you. You looked at Billy. “Uhh…” She turned, already walking away. “Booth.” Stopping at a table, she pointed. “Sit.” Standing next to each other, you watched her disappear. Returning with two silverware bundles, she blinked. Looking at the pair of you. Her jaw rolled. “Sit.” Billy immediately sat. You sat down. Sucking in your lips so you wouldn’t laugh. She placed the silverware on the table. “Good.” And disappeared again. Silence. Billy blinked. You were still trying to recover. “I like her.” You couldn’t. A laugh burst out of you. “Billy.” “What?” “That was a threat.” He looked toward the kitchen. “Nah.” He grinned. “She’s efficient.” You couldn’t argue with that.
The waitress reappeared. “Food.” Not a question. Billy blinked. “Oh.” He grabbed the menu. “Burger.” “Extra onions.” She scribbled. “Drink?” “Coke.” Scribble. The menu dropped in front of you. You looked up. “Grilled cheese.” “Water.” Scribble. “Good.” Billy slowly turned. Looking at you. “Water?” You looked up. “What?” “With grilled cheese?” “Yes.” “No soda?” You answered immediately. “Pop gives me hiccups.” He stared. “That’s your reason?” You nodded. “Yeah.” Billy laughed. “Everbody gets hiccups.” “Yeah.” “... And?” You frowned. “It makes me squeak.” Silence. Billy blinked. “... Squeak?” You nodded. Completely serious. “I sound like I’m doing it on purpose.” Billy laughed. “No!” “Yes.” “You squeak?” “Yeah.” “And that’s enough?” You blinked. “... Mr. Garibaldi put me in the hallway for hiccupping too loudly.” Silence. Billy stared. “... What?” You shrugged. “Middle school.” “Grammar and Comp class.” “He said I was disrupting class.” Billy barked out a laugh. “No.” “Yes.” “No.” “Yes.” “Firecracker.” He was grinning now. “You got exiled.” “Not funny.” “You got banished.” “Not funny.” “You got publicly removed because you squeaked.” You sighed. “You were a menace.” Billy shook his head. You crossed your arms. “I had hiccups.” “That poor poor bastard.” “Billy.” He was laughing hard enough that he had to wipe at his eyes. “Billy.” “You got booted for squeaking!” “It wasn’t on purpose!” Billy lost it again. “I know!”
The waitress appeared, placing a basket on the table. “Fries.” Neither of you noticed. Billy pointed at you. “She squeaks.” The woman blinked. Looking at you. Her jaw rolled. “Mm.” You groaned, dropping your forehead to the table. The waitress took the menus. And wandered away. “I regret telling you everything…” You mumbled. Billy wiped his eyes. Still laughing. “No y’don’t.” “I do.” Betrayed. “I’ll never say another word to you again.” You sat up. Straightening. “Not one.” “Mhmm.” “Ever.” “Yeah, right.” Billy was calling your bluff. You narrowed your eyes. “Ever, ever.” Fishing a hand into the basket, Billy pulled out some fries. You closed your eyes, tilting your head away. He smiled. “Yes, you are.” The confidence. The certainty. You didn’t respond. “So it’s gonna be like that, huh?” Wrapping an arm around the fries, he pulled them to his chest. You looked at the table. Watching the fries get confiscated. You looked at him. Unphased. Taking a drink of your water. Billy frowned. “...” He ate a fry. “...” Still nothing. His eyes narrowed. Suspicious. “...Baby?” You blinked at him. No words. He hugged the basket closer. “... Aren’t you gonna fight me?” Lips taut. You looked at the fries. Then at Billy. You made a judgemental face and looked away. Again, sucking in your lips to stifle a giggle. Billy blinked. “Was that judgement?” No answer. “Did you just…” He squinted. “... judge me?” Nothing. Another fry eaten. “Firecracker.” You looked out the window. His eyes narrowed to slits. “... You don’t care about the fries.” He gasped softly. Offended. “You don’t care.” You wouldn’t look at him. You couldn’t. Biting your lip hard. Shoulders twitching. He pointed an accusatory fry at you. “Even the Hamburglar would give me more respect.” That did it. “Ha!” A laugh escaped you. He immediately pointed at you. “There!” Triumphant. “I knew it.” You hid your face in your hands. Shoulders shaking. Tossing some fries in his mouth, Billy glanced at you. “Gotcha.” Lifting your face, you took in a deep breath.
The waitress reappeared. Unceremoniously dropping two baskets in front of you. “Enjoy.” And walked away. Billy blinked. “Jesus.” You were pulling the basket toward you. Billy snatching the grilled cheese off the checkered paper. “Hey!” You locked eyes. He blinked. He took a bite. You frowned. Billy chewed thoughtfully. A pause. Rolling the food around in his mouth. Swallowed. “Nah.” “You’re good.” You blinked. Something stupid was coming. You sighed, snatching back the sandwich. “Why?” Billy grabbed the other basket, picking up his burger and taking a large bite. Chewing. Swallowing. “Poison.” More chewing. “You’re good though.” You rolled your eyes. Taking a bite of grilled cheese. “What if it's slow-acting?” Billy froze. You took another bite. He smirked. “We die together.” “Mhm.” Another bite. Billy nodded. “Romantic.” You looked at him. “Awfully mushy.” He barked out a laugh. “There she is.” You smiled into your sandwich. And for a little while—
The two of you simply ate.
Eventually, the two of you wandered back out into the February cold. Full. Alive. Which was more than either of you expected. “See?” Billy grinned. “No poison.” “Too soon to tell.” “Debbie Downer.” “Give it an hour.” Billy laughed. “Firecracker.” The Camaro rumbled back to life. And ten minutes later—
THE REGENT THEATRE.
You blinked. Billy blinked. The two of you in the parking lot. Staring at the marquee. Neither of you spoke. Letters strung in bright green neon. Rows of pulsing lightbulbs drawing attention to the showtimes. It looked grand. In the way that only something named ‘The Regent Theatre’ could. So… Not very.
The paint had faded. Half the bulbs blinked out of sync. And one of the letters on the sign buzzed angrily. Compared to Hawkins, this was Hollywood. Cars lined the parking lot. Teenagers everywhere. Families. Couples. People crowding around the ticket windows. Billy whistled softly. “Fan-cy.”
Stepping onto the sidewalk, the sounds of the theater washed over you. Car doors slamming. Conversations. Laughter. Somebody arguing over showtimes. The smell of buttered popcorn drifting out every time the doors opened. Movie posters framed in glass. Neon reflected off the pavement still damp from melting snow. Compared to Hawkins, it felt like the entire Midwest had gone to the movies tonight. Teenagers clustered beneath the marquee. Somebody’s date carrying three drinks. Parents herding children. A little old couple shuffling toward the ticket window. Compared to Hawkins, where everyone knew everything about everybody, this felt big. Exciting.
Billy’s fingers found yours. Intertwining naturally. He squeezed once. You squeezed back.
Billy held the door open for you. You smiled. “And they say chivalry is dead.” He smirked. “Nope.” Walking in behind you. “Still kickin’.”
The warmth hit you immediately. Popcorn. Candy. People. So many people. A crowd gathered beneath the showtimes. The lone arcade machine in the corner blaring Pac-Man’s theme. Somebody’s little brother nearly wiping out in front of the concession stand. Billy wrinkled his nose. “Place needs fewer people.” “We could always go to Mount Ayr.” Billy blinked. You looked at him. “Basically only 100 people live in that place.” Billy snorted.
There was a movie premiering this weekend.
The Breakfast Club.
It wasn’t the type of thing you expected Billy to be purchasing tickets for. You’d assumed he’d drag you to see Turk 182. Maybe this was his way of being romantic.
Waiting in line to hand your tickets over to the attendant, Billy looked over the crowd. “Busy.” You smiled. “Wait ‘til July.” A small shrug. “It’s a killer.” Billy laughed. His thumb brushing absentmindedly over the back of your hand. The line shuffled forward. Another couple stepping up to the ticket taker. Someone behind laughing too loudly. The smell of popcorn. The sound of Pac-Man. Billy humming along to whatever song was playing over the speakers. Completely off-key. You winced. “Terrible.” Billy grinned. “Jealous?” You shook your head. And sang out a few bars. Perfectly. Billy blinked. “Jealous?” You poked. “In your dreams.” Billy scoffed. “Baby.” He closed his eyes. A prideful grin. “My dreams are spectacular.” You snorted. “And loud.” Billy side-eyed you. “That’s talent.” You drew a blank face. “I’ve never been so happy to be grossly untalented in my life.” You looked at him sincerely. “Thank you for the reality check.” Billy barked out a laugh. And then—
“Oh c’mon babe!” The voice whined obnoxiously. “I’m not askin’ for a lot…”
The hair on the back of your neck stood on end.
No.
He graduated two years ago. You told yourself that he was gone. At Loyola. That you’d never have to see him again. That was the deal. That was what you told yourself.
“Don’t be such a tease…”
“You’ve been asking for this all night.”
The voice echoed in your mind.
“Ah, Kev, give it up!” Another voice. “You ain’t gettin’ her number.”
You had to know.
You hesitated. Jaw tightening. And looked. Fear settled in your chest. Not sudden. Not sharp. Familiar. Like something you’d convinced yourself was dead. Like something you’d buried. Deep. Your breath catching.
“Kev, I don’t want to do this anymore.”
“Why not?”
“It’s not like you’re a virgin anymore…”
That’s when you really knew.
It was him.
Your heart leapt into your throat. Breathing getting harder. Deep inhales. Short exhales. Your fingers tightening around Billy’s hand. Too tight. And then—
Your fingers went numb. Then your feet. Your lungs forgot how to work. The theater around you blurring. Muffling. Fading. Like you were underwater. Like you were suffocating. Like you were drowning. The edges of your vision darkening. Everything around him disappearing. Everything about him sharpening.
There was only one thing.
One person.
One instinct.
Kevin.
Laughing.
Moving.
Alive.
Real.
Here.
Too close.
“Hey…” Billy’s voice. Distant. “Y’alright?” His brow knitted in concern. The line shuffled forward. You didn’t. You were practically frozen.
“You got no idea what you’re missin’ out on!” He called after the girl disappearing behind the concessions stand.
Deep inhale.
Short exhale.
Deep inhale.
Short exhale.
Billy followed your stare. Seeing the man. Seeing your unbroken focus. Feeling the death grip you had on his hand. His expression changed. “Did he do somethin’ to you?” His voice dropping. Low. Dangerous.
But you couldn’t answer. Couldn’t hear him. Couldn’t look at him.
You watched every movement.
Every laugh.
Every step.
Every inch.
“(F/N)?”
The worry in Billy’s voice deepened.
“Baby?”
Nothing.
Just those wide eyes.
That shallow breathing.
And the vice grip crushing his hand.
Then—
For the first time—
Billy looked away.
Only for a second.
Looking toward the guy.
The idiot by the concessions stand.
Billy’s brow furrowed.
Who the hell—
And then—
And then—
Kevin turned.
Not all the way.
Not enough.
But.
Enough.
Like a rabbit hearing a gunshot—
Something inside you snapped.
No.
No…
Not him.
Not here.
RUN.
Your hand vanished.
“Whoa—”
Billy turned.
Just in time to see you.
Gone.
Not walking.
Not hurrying.
Running.
Not caring who you bumped into.
Not looking back.
Just—
Gone.
“(F/N)?!”
Heads turned.
Billy blinked. Completely lost.
“Baby!!”
People stared. The ticket taker. The family behind him. The old couple. Everyone.
And Billy stood frozen.
For exactly one heartbeat.
Looking from the crowd.
To the hallway you’d disappeared down.
To the guy by the concession stand.
Back to the hallway.
His mind trying desperately to connect something.
Anything.
Failing.
“Shit.”
And Billy ran.
“You owe me this.” “You can’t just lead me on…” “You’re not a virgin anymore.”
His words tormented you. You ran. Blindly. Not caring where. Not caring who you bumped into. Somebody yelled. A horn blared. Brakes screeched.
“HEY!”
You didn’t stop. Didn’t even turn. Your lungs burned. The cold February air cutting into your throat. Your vision swimming. Your head spinning.
Had he followed you?
Had he seen you?
Oh God—
Had he seen you?
If he had—
Would he come after you?
He knew where you lived.
He knew—
You stumbled into the parking lot.
And somehow—
Somehow—
You found the Camaro.
You didn’t think about it.
You didn’t choose it.
Instinct.
Royal blue.
Steel.
Pine.
Safety.
Safe.
You spun around wildly.
Looking.
Searching.
Petrified.
Had he followed?
Had he seen?
Was he coming?
You turned again.
And again.
Again.
Until you were nearly dizzy. Until your eyes burned. Until—
Nothing.
No voice.
No footsteps.
No Kevin.
No him.
Safe.
You collapsed.
Sliding down against the Camaro. Curling yourself up as tightly as possible. Pulling your knees to your chest.
Tears spilled freely.
You wrapped your arms around yourself.
Trying desperately to stop the shaking.
Failing.
Violently.
Safe.
Safe.
Safe.
You were safe.
Why couldn’t you breathe?
Billy came running into the lot.
“(F/N)?!”
Nothing.
His heart pounding.
Scanning.
Where?
Where the hell—
And then he heard it.
Soft.
Broken.
Crying.
By the Camaro.
By the driver’s side door.
Billy rounded the Camaro.
And stopped.
“Oh…”
The word escaped him.
You were folded in on yourself.
Curled against the car.
Trying to disappear.
Trying to make yourself smaller.
You didn’t look at him.
Your eyes weren’t really seeing anything.
Fixed somewhere far away.
Your whole body.
Trembling.
And suddenly—
Billy had no idea what to do.
No joke.
No smartass remark.
No kiss.
No teasing.
No answer.
Just you.
Crying.
And him.
Standing there.
Helpless.
He swallowed.
Hard.
Angry.
Terrified.
Confused.
And hating every single one of those feelings.
Because he wanted to fix it.
God—
He wanted to fix it.
And he didn’t know how.
So Billy Hargrove—
Who always had something to say—
Quietly sat down.
Cross-legged.
Right in front of you.
And waited.
Because that was all he had.
A cigarette burned between his fingers.
More ash than smoke.
He’d forgotten to actually smoke the damn thing.
And time passed.
Five.
Ten.
Maybe less.
Maybe more.
Billy had no idea.
Then—
“Billy?”
His head snapped up.
Relief.
Pure relief.
“There she is.”
The words escaped before he could stop them.
You blinked through tear-filled eyes.
“What’re you doing here?” you croaked.
Billy looked around.
At the Camaro.
Back at you.
“It’s my car you’re on, dummy.”
He snorted.
And through the hiccups and tears—
A laugh escaped you.
And Billy smiled.
Because the skies had parted.
And he could see you again.
Not fixed.
Not healed.
Just—
Back.
Enough.
“C’mere.”
He stood.
Brushing off his jeans.
Helping you to your feet.
“You wanna blow this lame-ass scene?”
You nodded.
Eyes still red.
Still watery.
“Yeah.”
Billy opened the passenger door.
“Let’s go.”
And without another word—
He took you home.
The drive home was quiet. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know if he should say anything. A part of you wanted him to. Another part prayed he wouldn’t. That maybe—-
Maybe the two of you could pretend this never happened.
Headlights cut through the darkness. Billy’s hands tight around the steering wheel.
The road familiar. Until suddenly—
He blew straight past your turn.
Billy blinked. “... Shit.” You looked up. Billy looked mildly offended with himself. “Sorry.” Throwing the car into reverse, he backed up awkwardly.
Neither of you mentioned it.
Neither of you laughed.
Turning onto Birch Street, Billy slowed the car. The heater hummed. The windshield wipers squeaked every few seconds. Streetlights passing overhead. You looked out the window. Billy looked at the road.
Neither of you spoke.
He didn’t know if he should say anything. And every sentence he came up with sounded stupid. So he kept driving. One hand on the wheel. The other resting uselessly against the console. Not reaching. Not wanting to crowd you. Not wanting to get it wrong.
And you sat there.
Watching the houses pass.
Watching the streetlights.
Watching your reflection in the glass.
Wondering.
Thinking.
Spiraling.
Because he’d seen you.
He’d seen you.
Really seen you.
And somehow—-
He stayed.
For now.
The Camaro slowed to a crawl. One house away from yours. And neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. Billy’s thumb tapped nervously against the steering wheel. The porch light glowed. Petey was probably inside. Your bedroom window.
Everything was familiar.
Everything was ordinary.
And somehow—
Nothing felt normal.
Nothing felt fine.
The Camaro rolled to a stop.
“... I’m sorry.”
Billy blinked. “What?” Maybe he heard wrong. Maybe the engine was too loud. He reached forward, turning the key. The Camaro shuddered. Falling silent.
And in the quiet—
“... I’m sorry.” This time you looked away. Fresh tears slipping down your cheeks. Billy stared. Wide-eyed. “What?”
“I did it again.” You let out a shaky breath. “I ruin everything.” You smiled bitterly. “I’m so sorry.” You sniffed. “You don’t deserve this.” Opening the passenger door, you pulled yourself from the car. Heading for the porch.
Time to cut and run. After pulling this?
He’s not staying. He doesn’t want you. He doesn’t want your damage.
Damaged. Damaged. Damaged goods.
“Don’t.” His voice cracked. You stopped. Hand still on the car door. “Don’t fucking say that.” You froze. Billy was already out of the car. Not angry. Not yelling. Terrified.
“Don’t.”
You stood there. Billy by the driver’s side. You by the porch. The Camaro between you.
Neither of you moved.
Neither of you spoke.
The February air cold against your face. The tear stains on your cheeks frosting over. The porch light above you.
Billy breathing hard. Watching you. Waiting. Not pushing. Not knowing.
And you tried.
God—
You tried.
To keep standing.
To keep talking.
To keep apologizing.
To keep running.
But there was nothing left.
Your vision swimming.
The cold air burning your lungs.
Everything suddenly too heavy.
Your knees buckled.
Your hand slapping against the hood of the Camaro.
“Whoa—”
Billy moved. Fast. Arms around your waist. Catching you. Supporting you. Holding you. He cradled your face in his hand. “Hey.” He nudged you gently. “Hey.” “(F/N).” Everything felt distant. Heavy. Muffled. Like you were underwater again. And then—
You blinked.
Billy.
The first thing you saw.
His face.
His eyes.
And the look in them.
Worry.
Fear.
Relief.
Something else.
Something you couldn’t even begin to name.
You stared at him.
And something inside you shattered.
Your face crumpled.
And suddenly—
You grabbed him.
Not thinking.
Not apologizing.
Not running.
Just—
Holding on.
Tight.
And you broke.
Completely.
You couldn’t even process what was happening. Tears pouring from your eyes. Your knees buckling again as Billy held you fast. And held on.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
“C’mere.”
Billy placed his hand on your neck, rubbing your cheek with his thumb.
“It’s alright.”
Words.
Nonsense.
Anything.
Everything.
You cried yourself to the point of exhaustion. His shirt soaked. His shoulder damp. Your face buried against his chest.
And still—
He stayed.
Eventually the tears slowed. Your breathing evening out. Looking up at him through swollen eyes—
It made absolutely no sense in your mind as to why he would still be here.
But here he was.
A part of you wanted to shove him away.
To protect him.
To protect him from all the inevitable damage you would cause.
The damaged person that you are.
But another part—
A selfish part—
Wanted to cling to him forever.
Never letting go.
Pulling away slightly, you opened your mouth.
“I’m—”
“Shhh.”
Billy’s thumb brushed beneath your eye.
“Don’t.”
And for once—
You listened.
He pressed a kiss to your forehead.
And another.
And then—
Unable to help himself—
One to your lips.
Soft.
Gentle.
Nothing more.
When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours.
And stayed there.
Neither of you spoke.
Neither of you moved.
Eventually—
Billy exhaled softly.
“C’mon.”
You blinked.
Too tired to argue.
Too tired to think.
His arm wrapped around your shoulders. You head settling against his chest. And together, slowly, the two of you made your way up the front walk.
One step.
Then another.
Neither of you letting go.
By the time you reached the porch, your eyes were half closed again. Billy rubbing a hand up and down your back.
“Still with me?” he murmured.
You nodded weakly.
“Mhm.”
“Good.”
He pressed one more kiss to the top of your head.
And rang the doorbell.
Petey opened the door. Eyeing you two with disgust. His face fell. Eyes widening. Coming to your side, Petey grabbed you. Slinging one of your arms over his shoulder. Billy held you tight. Not letting go until he was certain Petey had you. Secure.
Billy turned. Taking one last look back.
“Hey!”
Petey stiffened.
“You take care of your sister for me.”
Petey nodded, helping you inside. Shutting the door.
The door shut.
Billy stood there.
Staring.
For a second.
Two.
Three.
Nothing.
No crying.
No voice.
No Firecracker.
Just the porch light.
Billy swallowed.
“Okay.”
He nodded to nobody.
Hands in his pockets.
“Okay.”
The walk back to the Camaro felt longer somehow.
His feet heavy.
His mind heavier.
He opened the door.
Sat down.
Shut it.
And stayed.
The engine wasn’t running.
The radio wasn’t on.
His hands fell uselessly in his lap. (don’t say rested… that makes it sound useful)
summary Things are good. Or at least, they're trying to be. Between school days, long drives, teasing, and stolen moments, you and Billy are beginning to settle into something real. But growing closer means learning each other too—and not every lesson comes easily. As insecurities, assumptions, and old fears rise to the surface, the two of you are forced to confront what it truly means to trust someone. Somehow, you emerge stronger for it. And just in time for Valentine's Day. Because when things are really good... life has a funny way of testing them.
warnings references to past sexual assault, past trauma/abuse, cursing, trauma response behavior, negative thoughts/self-talk, angst
word count 5844
note Hi everyone! This is a 2026 rewrite of Part Three/Four to my Billy Hargrove fanfiction series, She's a Runner. This rewrite contains the remainder of the original Part 4 that was not written in the Part 3 rewrite. There is also new content, and the chapter has been expanded. The original Parts 3 & 4 will remain posted. New rewrite titles will always have an * to tell the difference.
Inspired by Billy Squier’s She’s A Runner
This is an updated rewrite* As always, any feedback is much appreciated. Thanks for reading!
Things were good. Or at least they were trying to be.
Ever since your little ‘fight’ in the parking lot with Billy a few weeks ago, things had settled back out between you. Nearly every morning now when you arrived at school you could count on Billy being there. In the Camaro. If you got there sooner, you’d wait. Snuggled up in your scarf and puffer jacket until a tap, tap, tap came to your window. Other mornings you’d find Billy smoking. Leaning against the trunk of the Camaro. Acting put-out that you’d made him wait in the cold. “Jee-zus.” he’d complain. “Take any longer and I’d’ve died.” “What?” you’d tease, stepping between him and the wind. “Your thumbs broken or somethin’?” You zipped his coat up for him. Billy looked down. Then at you. Smirking. “Y’know…” he began. You looked at him unimpressed. Lips pursed. Something was coming. Something, stupid. “What?” you asked. “That’s wife stuff.” You shoved him. “Ugh.” You started off for the school. “Shut up.” Billy laughed. Falling into step beside you. An arm wrapping around your shoulders. You both walked into school together.
Today, however, you were the one waiting. The Hawkins High parking lot was still mostly empty. Frost dusted the asphalt. You sat in your Datsun with the heater running. Absent-mindedly humming along to the radio. No Camaro. You frowned. Not yet. You waited. Where was he? You looked at the radio clock. Traffic? Overslept? Is Max still alive? Before you could think up anything else —
Tap. Tap. Tap.
You startled. Billy was outside your window. Not smiling. Not smirking. His expression was one of profound betrayal. You rolled down the window. “What?” “Jesus Christ.” Billy breathed dramatically. He tapped the watch on his wrist. “Do y’know what time it is?” You blinked at him. “Seven-thirty?” “Seven-thirty. Four.” he corrected. You placed a hand to your cheek. Mock shock. “Oh no.” You raised an eyebrow. “You’re the one who’s late.” Billy snorted. “I’ve been here the whole time.” He motioned to the parking lot. “You’re blind.” You sighed. “It’s only four minutes.” Billy pulled his shoulders in. “Coulda froze.” He play-acted. You glanced out at the parking lot. “You have a car.” He dug his hands into his pockets. “Mm.” he grumbled. “You have a jacket.” He pushed his hands in deeper. The pocket lining poking out beneath his coat. “Mm.” he simply replied. You exhaled. “You have cigarettes…” Closing his eyes, he raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “Not hearin’ a whole lotta sympathy.” “This is a you problem.” Billy frowned. You smiled knowingly. “You’re alive.” “Barely.” he scoffed. You snorted. “Drama queen.” Billy grinned.
He looked over your shoulder. “What’re we listening to?” “We?” Billy nodded. “Nothing.” you replied. “That ain’t nothin’.” Billy leaned in through the open window. Far too close. Head nearly in your lap. His jacket brushing your nose. “Billy!” “What?” He was unbothered. “Move!” He looked bored. “No.” “Move.” You shoved him. The car horn went off. “Billy.” He ignored you. Fingers fiddling with the radio dials. “AM?” He looked over his shoulder at you. “Really?” He turned a knob. “Who the hell listens to AM?” You threw your head back against the headrest. You exhaled. You weakly shoved him. The horn went off again. Students exiting their cars were looking. Billy tuned the radio. A wide smile. He cranked up the volume. “Now, this?” He pointed at the radio. “Much better.” You rolled your eyes. “Will you get out of my car?” Billy scooted back, but not by much. “No.” “No?” “No.” He waved a hand at you. “Move over.” You scoffed. “Billy.” “Move over.” “It’s my car!” Backing out, Billy rested his chin in his hand. Elbow propped on the window well. A small smile. “You’re really gonna let me die out here?” You looked annoyed. “Yup.” He straightened up. “Unbelievable.” Your brow furrowed. “Absolutely unbelievable.” You popped the lock. “Fine.” You scooted in. Billy climbed into the driver’s seat. “Jesus.” “What now?” Billy’s knees were nearly touching his chest. “People this small shouldn’t be allowed to drive.” You smacked him. He tilted his head back, laughing. You smiled despite yourself. Billy readjusted the seat. Stretching out comfortably. One hand on the steering wheel. He looked too comfortable. He rolled his head onto his shoulder. Looking at you. A sharp smile. “Miss me?” You closed your eyes and looked away. “Nuh-uh.” Billy frowned. “Don’t I at least get a ‘g’morning’?” You peeked one eye open. “Mornin’.” He chuffed. Silence. “Billy.” “Hm?” “Unless you’re planning to buy —” The morning bell rang. “Get out of my car.” He smirked. Tongue peeking out. Not leaving. Positively delighted with himself.
You gave his shoulder a hard shove. “Out!” He looked wounded. “Ow.” You rolled your eyes. You opened the passenger door and climbed out. Ducking your head, you looked back into the car. Billy blinked at you casually. “My keys.” you stated. Hand outstretched. Billy looked at you. And then the keys. And then you. “Don’t.” He was offended. “Rude.” Turning off the car, he dropped the keys into your hand. “Killjoy.”
Billy unfolded himself from the driver’s seat. “Some thanks.” He sighed. “I risked my life out here.” You were already walking ahead of him. “For you!” He shouted. You threw your head back and looked at the sky. “Stoooooop.” You groaned.
Entering the school, he still swiped your textbooks. A book in your hands. One you were reaching into the locker for. Gone. Once. To prove a point. You walked off and let him have your textbook. Billy blinked. “... Firecracker?” You continued down the hall. Billy looked at your textbook. Then back at you. He frowned. “Don’t you need this?” He called after you. No response. Billy hustled after you. “Hey!” “Where’re you goin’?” You didn’t react. “Class.” “But I’ve got your book.” You turned the corner. “You do.” His brow furrowed. “Don’t you want it?” You waved a dismissive hand and walked into the classroom. Billy stopped at the threshold. He looked at the textbook. Then at you. Then back to the book. He looked inconvenienced. “What the hell’m I supposed to do with this all day?” Leaning into the classroom. Billy waved his arm. Textbook in hand. You ignored him. “Rude.” he huffed. The warning bell sounded. Point one for you.
Unfortunately for you. Billy adapted. But now? Now it was less about the books and more about opportunity. The moment you turned around to protest — You’d be trapped. Billy leaning against the lockers. One hand flat above your head. The textbook dangling tauntingly in his other hand. A smug smile on his face. “Billy.” You groaned. He tilted his head. “What?” “Give it back.” You looked up at the book. He wanted you to jump for it. “Billy.” He lowered it slightly. Enticing you. “Say please.” You scrunched your nose. “Bite me!” He laughed. A wide grin. Tongue peeking out between his teeth. “Tempting.” he flirted, leaning in. You huffed. Putting your palm to his face. You shoved him. “Fresh.”
And somewhere along the line, you’d stopped worming your way out of his grasp nearly as quickly as you used to. Not that Billy didn’t abuse the privilege. But every now and again he’d get a thick smack to the chest. Trying to duck his head to your neck. “Ow!” “Behave!” “Why?” You groaned. He’d grin. Completely unrepentant. There weren’t nearly enough turtlenecks in your closet to protect you from the calling cards Billy’s lips desperately wanted to leave on you. And he looked so pleased with himself whenever he caught sight of one.
In Mr. Dawson’s history class, Billy eventually had to be moved. Two full rows over and away from you. He kept turning around in his seat to look at you rather than pay attention. Sometimes he’d toss small paper balls at you. Launching them like a half-court shot. Smacking you in the forehead. He grinned childishly as you looked up in defeat. Rolling your eyes, you returned to your work. “Pssst.” Billy would smirk and motion for you to unfold the paper wad. Which you quickly regretted. Often, they contained immensely lewd messages. Or whatever happened to be on his mind. If he could make you blush and lock eyes with him in the same sequence? Point one for Billy. The score: One - one.
You started eating lunch together. If the weather was good, you sat out on the football bleachers. Billy enjoying a smoke. You trying to read through your notes for the next period’s pop quiz. Occasionally, you split your sandwich with him. At first, anyways. Before long, Billy simply decided that su lunch es mi lunch. You’d look down and a giant bite would be missing from your pizza. One time, you were focused on your notes. A chip held between your lips. “Hey!” Billy swooped in and took it right from you. Like a bird stealing another bird’s worm. He sucked the chip into his mouth. Crunch. A smile. “That was mine!” “You weren’t eating it.” He chewed. “I was gonna —!” He smirked. “K.” He puckered his lips and grabbed you. “Have it back.” You shrieked. “EW!” Shoving at him. “NO!” He stopped short. Swallowing. Laughing.
If the weather wasn’t so good, you’d manage to convince Billy to follow you to the library. At first, you thought this was a very safe and smart option.
Quiet.
Warm.
Homework.
Responsible.
You couldn’t have been more wrong if your life depended on it. Billy’s favorite game quickly became breaking your concentration. And dragging you into trouble with him. He thought it was adorable the way you held your index finger against your lips as you read. Scribbling furiously with your pencil. So focused that the world around you ceased to exist.
Unfortunately, Billy Hargrove considered this a challenge.
“Pssst.” He spun your notebook upside down. You righted it and ignored him. “Firecracker.” You ignored him. “Hey!” You whispered harshly. “Billy.” He stole your pencil. “Give it.” He smirked, spinning it in his fingers. “Billy.” He looked at the ceiling. “Billy.” you chastised him. Smiling, he closed one eye and aimed. Drawing his arm back.
One.
Two.
Three.
Fling.
The pencil lodged in the ceiling tile. Billy looked at you triumphantly. Your nose twitched. Leaning over, you dug another pencil out of your backpack. And went back to writing. His hand inched closer. You froze. Eyes narrowing. A hushed chuckle. “Stop it.” He pouted, rocking back on his chair legs. “Boring.” “Do your homework.” “No.” “Billy…” “You can do it.” He thought he was clever. “C’mon, you’re doing it right now.” “No.” He leaned in. “What if I smile?” You continued writing. “Pay me and I’ll think about it.” He paused. The chair legs hit the floor. “Can’t.” He frowned. “Broke.” “Too bad, so sad.” You concluded. Billy looked offended.
What was even cuter was the look of shock and abashment that overwhelmed your features when he so much as slid a finger beneath your sweater. Touching bare skin. It was hilarious. How positively prudish you were in public. You looked like a deer in headlights. Mortified. Face on fire.
The one time he got too clever? He managed to slide his entire palm up the back of your blouse. You yelped. The sound of shifting chairs. Every head in the library turned. You clapped a hand over your mouth. Embarrassing. Billy was laughing. Now he’d done it. The librarian stood in front of your table. Arms crossed. Peering down her nose at you both. You froze. Billy froze. The librarian cleared her throat. “Ahem.” Billy gave a charming smile and a little wave. “Hi.” You wanted to die. Ten minutes later, the pair of you were marched out of the library. Banned. The arrogant and thoroughly pleased look on Billy’s face as you slumped out the doors.
“Guess we’ll have to find somewhere else.” he tutted, snaking an arm around your waist. You narrowed your eyes. “I oughta slap you.” “Mm.” he hummed. Smug. You poked a sharp finger into his chest. “This is your fault.” “Sticks n’stones.” he mused. “Not funny.” Billy grinned wide. “Is.” “Is not.” “Is.” You groaned. “C’mon, Firecracker.” Chuckling, he dragged you down the hall with him.
In chemistry, you were sitting next to each other again. Which was both a blessing and a curse. Billy was entirely too pleased with himself the couple of times you balanced the equation wrong. “Mm-mm.” He clicked his tongue. “Wrong.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “No it’s not.” He nodded sagely. “Is.” “Wrong.” You frowned down at your paper. Billy leaned over. “There.” He tapped the coefficient with his pencil. “It’s three.” You paused. You blinked, several times. You could feel that stupid smile widening. You erased the error, sighing. “I hate you.” “No y’don’t.” He crossed his arms.
Unfortunately for Billy, his victories were few and far between. Because the one time he wrote Ca for carbon instead of C? You stared. At him. Then the paper. “That’s wrong.” “What?” He raised an eyebrow. You pointed a finger. “That says calcium.” You tapped the paper. Billy frowned. “Says carbon.” You pointed to the periodic table poster on the wall. “Carbon is ‘c’.” He squinted at the poster. His expression slowly changing. “Shit.” You laughed. “Hey!” He swiped your lab worksheet, hiding it under his own. Crossing his arms, Billy laid across the papers. “Give it!” He looked at you. Hurt. “Laughed at me.” You raised an eyebrow. “So?” You shrugged. “You deserved it.” Billy smiled. “Fair.” He laid his head on his arms. Preparing for a nap.
Most days, the two of you managed to finish the labwork before everyone else. Mostly because Billy copied down your answers and provided moral support. Which, according to him, was equal to pulling his weight.
Unfortunately.
Hawkins High had opinions.
People were talking.
Billy had only ever caught flak for being Billy Hargrove.
But now?
Apparently he wasn’t Billy Hargrove enough.
Talking briefly before basketball practice, you met with Billy. Soft smiles. Light laughs. You gave him a kiss and waved before parting. Billy walked into the gym. Some of the team was already there. Looking at him. He frowned. “What?” Andy let out a low whistle. “Dude.” He grinned. “You are whipped.” The group laughed. Billy snorted. “Jealous?” “Sweater girl?” Monty barked out a laugh. “Seriously?” “She’s a nobody.” “Dude.” Andy shook his head. “You can do so much better.” The others nodded. Billy scoffed. “Oh yeah?” “Yeah.” Chance bounced the basketball. “I mean, c’mon.”
“Half the school only knows her name ‘cause they need help with homework.” Bryce smirked. “And now Hargrove’s walkin’ her to class.” Snickers. “She ever smile?” Monty laughed. “I thought she hated everybody.” Bryce grinned. “Thought she was gonna stab me when I asked about Montagne’s test last week.” More laughter. “She’s always mad.” “She’s not mad.” Billy answered automatically. Silence. All eyes turned. “Ohhhhh!” “Listen to him.” “Defending her.”
WHIP-CRACK
“Whipped.” Billy rolled his eyes. “Eat me.” “Seriously, man.” Chance spun the basketball on one finger. “You know what people say about her?” Billy shrugged. “People say a lotta shit.” “Yeah, well.” Bryce smirked. “People say a lotta shit about you too.” The group laughed. “Everybody knows why you’re hanging around.” Andy grinned. “Ain’t no shame in it.” “Yeah.” “Seriously.”
Bryce shrugged. “She’s pretty.” Chance snorted. “But dating?” The whole group laughed. Monty pointed. “He’s serious.” “Look at him.” “Dude’s got heart eyes.” “Shut up.” Chance passed the basketball to Bryce. “No, seriously.” “You know how this works.” Billy frowned. “Enlighten me.” More laughter. “C’mon.” Bryce shot the basketball to Monty. He spread his hands wide. “You got cheerleaders.” “Rich kids.” “Band geeks.” “Freaks.” “Nerds.” “And then…” He pointed at Billy. “You got Hargrove.” “King of Hawkins.” The group laughed. “And now?” Chance motioned toward the hall. “Now Hargrove’s carrying books for sweater girl.”
“Oh shit.” “What’s next?” “Tommy dating the chess club?” “Monty joins debate?” “Harrington is valedictorian?” The whole gym erupted with laughter. Andy wiped his eyes. “Seriously, man.” “You start changing the rules…” Bryce pointed around the room. “Everybody’s screwed.” More laughter. “Dude.” “What happens when she dumps you?” Billy scoffed. “Why the hell would she do that?” Silence. Then — “Oh-hoooo.” “Listen to him!” “He’s serious!” “Guys!” “Oh shit, Hargrove!” “He’s serious!” “Heart eyes!” “Whipped!”
WHIP-CRACK
Thunderous laughter. Billy opened his mouth. Stopped. For some reason, the sound of them laughing bothered him. Not much. Just enough. Enough to notice. Enough to wonder why. He quickly smirked. “Eat me.” Another round of laughter. The moment passed. Or at least Billy thought it had.
Practice was over. Andy gave Billy a firm slap on the back. “Good game Hargrove.” Billy snorted. “Yeah, yeah.” Entering the locker room, Billy dropped onto the bench in front of his locker. The team was loud. Five different conversations bouncing off the same concrete walls. Laughter. Arguments. The screech of locker doors. Someone arguing over music. Someone else complaining about Coach. The sounds all blurred together. Billy sat there.
Towel draped around his shoulders. Elbows on his knees. Staring at the floor.
Whipped.
He frowned.
Heart eyes.
Billy rolled his jaw.
Idiots.
“He’s serious.” His fingers drummed against his thigh. “What happens when she dumps you?” He scoffed under his breath. “Morons.” Standing, he tossed the towel to the bench. Yanking his jersey over his head. Steam quickly filling the showers. Hot water ran down his back. And despite himself— He could still hear them laughing. “Whipped!” Billy scrubbed shampoo through his hair. “Eat me.” He muttered to nobody. Rinsing off, he sighed. Jesus Christ. They were idiots. The whole damn lot of them. … So why’d it bother him?
And then—
Twenty minutes later, Billy emerged from the gym. Hair still damp. Letterman jacket on. Duffel bag over one shoulder. And there you were. Waiting. Immediately, his face softened. His stride quickened. Without so much as a greeting, an arm wrapped around your shoulders. Pulling you into his side. He pressed a kiss to your temple. And then— nothing. A pause. Billy just stood there. Breathing. The familiar scent of your shampoo. The soft wool of your scarf. You blinked. “... Billy?” His eyes were closed. “Hm?” You tilted your head to his touch. “You okay?” He frowned. Eyes opening. “Yeah.” Another pause. “Why?” You looked up at him. “You act like I just came back from war.” You smiled. “We literally saw each other an hour ago.” Billy smirked. “So?” He kissed your temple again. “... You’re being weird.” He grinned. “Takes one t’know one.”
Billy took you for a drive. No destination. No plans. Just a drive. Which, for Billy, was reason enough. The radio hummed quietly. Sunlight flickering through the trees. One hand draped lazily over the steering wheel. The other resting on the center console. You watched the scenery pass by.
Movement caught your eye.
Billy’s hand.
Searching.
Not looking away from the road. Not saying anything. Just reaching. His fingers slipped between yours. Intertwining. Naturally. Like they’d done it a hundred times. His thumb brushed against your knuckles. And stayed there. You paused. Looking down. Then over at him. Billy was still watching the road. Relaxed. Completely oblivious. “...” A small smile tugged at your lips. Looking back at your joined hands, you squeezed gently. Billy squeezed back. Never taking his eyes off the road. “Y’alright?” You smiled. “Yeah.” He nodded. “Good.” And kept driving.
The next day, students lingered in the halls after lunch. Waiting outside classrooms. Talking. Shouting. Lockers slamming. You were leaning against your locker, talking with Natalie about something annoying Billy had done when he appeared. No warning. No greeting. Just arms around your waist from behind. You squeaked. “Billy!” A laugh rumbled behind you. “Miss me?” “Speak of the devil.” Natalie stated. You rolled your eyes. “We just had lunch together.” “So?” He grinned. “So.” Natalie smirked. “I’m gonna leave you two weirdos alone.” “Oh, don’t—” Throwing out an arm in protest after her. Too late. She was already gone. “Traitor.” You muttered. Billy only grinned. “You complain a lot.” “And yet.” You looked over your shoulder at him. “Here you are.” He chuckled. “Against my better judgment.” His smile softened. Eyes lingering on yours. Without warning, he pulled you in closer. Hooking a finger under your chin, he tilted your head toward him. “What’re you—” He kissed you. Arms still around you. Holding you close. Present. Warm. In a split second for you— A jolt. Something uncomfortable. Something too fast. Too much. And just as quickly as it came— It was gone. Billy pulled away. Blinking. You stared at him. “...” His grin widened. “What?” Nothing. You were still blinking. Still trying to figure out why your heart skipped a beat. Billy barked out a laugh. “Jesus, baby.” He smirked. “I know I’m handsome but damn.” He moved around you in a lazy half-circle. Trying to catch your eye. “What?” Nothing. You looked at him. And Billy smiled. Soft. Pleased. Thinking he’d figured it out.
“Aw.” He chuckled. “Kissed you stupid.” And before you could say a word— Another quick kiss. Short. Easy. Billy smiling against your lips. Completely unaware. You blinked again. And Billy just laughed. “There she is.” As if you’d merely gotten distracted.
At the end of the day, you were leaning against your locker. Reading. Students were milling about. Locker doors opening and closing. When suddenly— A shadow. Billy. With one arm above your head, and his other hand resting on your waist. He leaned down. Smiling. No words. Just— A kiss. You tensed. Blinking. Blank. Gone. Billy pulled away, smiling. He was expecting eye rolls. Flustered indignation. But. You just stood there. Blinking. “...” Nothing. Billy laughed. “There it is.” “...” “Jesus.” He bit his lower lip. “I keep doin’ that.” You blinked up at him. “What?” “Kissin’ you stupid.” You stared. Billy looked positively pleased with himself. Like he’d discovered something wonderful. Something adorable. He liked the look. Liked making you blush. Liked seeing you flustered. And lately— He chased it.
Because every time he saw that dazed expression, something inside of him relaxed. Like a weight lifted from his shoulders. Greedy for reassurance without realizing it. Billy smiled softly. “Cute.” And because he thought he’d embarrassed you— Because he thought you’d simply gotten shy— He kissed you again. Short. Sweet. The same reaction. “...” Blinking.
Billy laughed softly. You looked at him. “There she is.” As if he’d brought you back to Earth. When in truth— You weren’t back. You’d never really left. But. You’d gone somewhere he couldn’t follow. And Billy mistook your silence as comfort.
A couple days later, the warning bell had already rung. Students poured into the halls. Books. Backpacks. Lockers. Teachers. Everybody trying to make it to class before the final bell. Billy had been saying something. You weren’t really listening. Going through a mental checklist of all your assignments due today.
Something caught Billy’s eye. “Shit.” Suddenly— His hand wrapped around your wrist. “C’mon.” No thought. No hesitation. No warning. Just Billy. Taking two long strides ahead. You stumbled after him. Heart skipping. Caught off guard. By the time your brain caught up— Billy had already reached the end of the hall. And you stopped. Digging your heels into the floor. Resistance. Billy turned immediately. Frowning. “What?” You blinked. Looking down. At his hand. Then back at him. “...” “What?” His voice softened. “(F/N)?” You frowned. “I dunno.” Billy looked genuinely confused. “What?” “I dunno.” you repeated. Because you didn’t. Not really. You only knew that something about it had made your stomach twist. And you hated that.
Why did it feel strange?
Billy followed your eyes. Realizing that he still had hold of your wrist. “Oh.” Immediately, he let go. “Sorry.” Simple. Easy. No argument. Just confusion.
Billy held out his hand. Not your wrist. His hand. Palm open. His expression softening. “Yeh?” You looked at it. Then at him. After a second. You placed your hand in his. Billy smiled. “There she is.” And the two of you continued down the hall.
Another afternoon found the two of you sitting together on the picnic tables. It was one of the first peeks of the coming Spring. Billy sprawled beside you. You were trying very hard to study. Billy trying very hard to prevent that from happening. Which, according to him, was quality time. One moment he was talking. The next—
His hand slipped beneath the hem of your sweater. Resting against your waist. Thumb stroking absentmindedly over bare skin. You paused. “...Billy.” “Hm?” Without looking up, you quietly removed his hand. Billy blinked. “Oh.” Two minutes later—
His hand returned.
Warm.
Familiar.
Comfortable.
To him.
You stopped. “...Billy.” “Hm?” His eyes still fixed on the story he was telling. You moved his hand away again. Billy frowned. Not upset. Just puzzled. “Oh.” Three minutes later—
His hand was back. He simply wasn’t thinking about it.
It was instinct.
Muscle memory.
Comfort.
The same way he slung an arm around your shoulders. The same way he held your hand. The same way he leaned against you. It was just… Billy.
You stared at his hand. Then quietly gave up. Returning to your studying. Billy smiled to himself. Completely unaware. His thumb lazily stroking your side. And for reasons you couldn’t explain— Something twisted.
By the end of the week, the final bell had rung. Most students had already gone home. You stood near the front entrance with a few classmates. Talking over a group project. Billy, leaning against the wall nearby, was already waiting.
Patiently.
… For about thirty seconds.
Then impatiently.
Then dramatically.
Waiting.
You ignored him. Which only made him sigh louder. Billy wandered over.
Tap.
His finger poking your side. You swatted him away. “Just a minute.” Billy frowned. On whole minute later—
Tap.
Again.
“(F/N).” “Just a minute.” Another loud sigh. You glanced over. Billy pouting. You smiled despite yourself. And returned to the conversation. That was apparently his limit. Before you knew it—
The ground disappeared. “Bill–!” Laughter exploded around you. “Billy!” Fireman’s carry. Like a sack of potatoes. Over his shoulder. “Billy!” “What?” He laughed. You smacked his back. “I was still talking!” “Yeah, yeah.” He waved behind him. “They know.” More laughter. One of your classmates called out, “See ya Monday!” Billy raised a hand. “Have a good weekend!” And he started walking. “Billy.” “Hm?” “I meant it.” “Me too.” He hummed. You frowned. “Put me down.” Billy jostled you, getting a better hold. “Aw, c’mon.” “They got it.” “They don’t—” “They’re fine.” Another few steps. “Billy.” “Yeah, yeah.” He chuckled. “I know.” He thought you were embarrassed. Thought you were laughing along. Thought you wanted to leave. Thought you wanted him. Which to Billy, amounted to the same thing. And somewhere between the school entrance and the Camaro— You fell quiet.
The silence didn’t register. Not at first. Billy kept chatting. Talking about dinner. About Max. About the championship qualifier for basketball. Completely unaware. Until he opened the passenger door. He turned around. Still smiling. Only to find you looking at the ground. Quiet. Too quiet. Billy frowned. “Firecracker?” No answer. “(F/N)?” You blinked. Looking up. “...” And for the first time all week—
Billy didn’t see the look he’d grown used to. He didn’t see reassurance. He saw—
Something else.
Something he didn’t understand.
And suddenly—
The smile slipped from his face.
“What?”
You looked away. “...” “(F/N)?” You chewed your lip. “...” “C’mon.” Billy’s voice softened. “What?” Another pause. You glanced up at him. Briefly. “You’re touchy.” The words were so soft he almost missed them. Silence. Billy blinked. Then laughed softly. You immediately dropped your gaze. Billy’s smile faded. Squinting slightly. “Touchy?” “Not in a bad way—” you interjected. Now Billy was nervous. Restless. He shifted his weight. Hands fidgeting. Biting at the side of his finger. “... And?” You shrugged helplessly. “I—.” You exhaled. “I dunno.” Billy laughed. Almost relieved. Weak. Nervous. Bullet dodged. “Baby.” A smile. “Kinda my whole thing.” You swallowed. “I know.” He shifted his weight to the other foot. “Then, what?” You still wouldn’t look at him. “I don’t—” “Help me out here.” His voice rose. Not angry. Anxious. “What is it?” The nervousness in his voice made your chest tighten. You hugged yourself. Looking up. “I don’t know!” Billy froze. “It’s just…” You swallowed. “Too much.” You exhaled. “Sometimes.” Silence. Billy frowned. Thinking. “Picking you up?” A small nod. “Oh.” A pause. He looked away. Thinking. He scratched his head. “Other girls don’t mind it.” Confused. Trying to understand. “They like it.” You looked at him. Finally. “I’m not other girls.” Billy stilled. “I’m me…” Silence. Billy blinked. And for perhaps the first time all week—
He had absolutely no idea what to say.
He rubbed the back of his neck. Looking away. Then back at you. “...Okay.” A pause. “But…” He frowned. Confused. “Why?” You stared. “What?” “The pickin’ you up thing.” Billy shrugged helplessly. “I mean…” “I’ll stop.” Simple. Easy. Problem solved. At least, to him. You swallowed. “Not just that.” Billy blinked. “What?” Silence. You looked away. “...” “What?” He was getting restless again. You hugged yourself tighter. “Everything.” Billy laughed. He surely heard that wrong. Hit chewed his cheek. “Everything?” “...” “Everything, everything?” You looked at him. His brow furrowed. He searched your face. Trying to understand. And then—
Very slowly—
His expression changed. His eyes dropped. To your sweater. Your waist. His hands. He thought.
About the parking lot.
About the hallway.
About the wrist.
His hand beneath your sweater.
The locker.
Titling your chin.
Kissing you.
“There she is.”
“Kissed you stupid.”
His face lost color. “...” And for the first time—
Billy felt something cold settle in his stomach. Not anger. Not embarrassment. Guilt. “... Oh.” The word barely escaped him. You looked up. Billy was staring at the ground. Thinking. … Thinking. And suddenly not wanting to. “...” His voice was quiet. Small. “The kisses?” You looked to the side. “...Sometimes.” Billy shut his eyes. A pause. “... Jesus.” Heartbroken.
“... Jesus.”
Suddenly, all week looked different.
Billy swallowed. “...” “(F/N)...” He stared at the pavement. He couldn’t even look at you. His voice was small. “Why didn’t you tell me?” You blinked. “What?” “Any of it.” He sounded lost. “The hand thing.” “The kisses.” “The…” He shut his eyes. “Jesus...” “The whole week.” You frowned. “I didn’t know.” Billy looked up. “I know.” You looked at him. “I’m sorry.” Billy froze. “What?” “Sorry.” Your eyes were wet. “I didn’t know why—” “I thought…” You looked away. Billy stared. Heartbroken. “No.” You blinked. “...?” “No.” He shook his head.
“No.” His voice cracked. “Don’t do that.” “What—?” “Don’t—” He put a hand up. “Don’t say you’re sorry.” You sniffed. Blinking. “But—” “No.” He rubbed at his eyes. “Jesus Christ.” “Don’t apologize.” He sniffed. “... For this.” Your heart sank. “Billy—” He held up his hand. Stop. Silence. “(F/N).” His voice softened. “No.”
Because suddenly—
Billy wasn’t sure which hurt worse.
Thinking he’d misunderstood you.
Or realizing that you’d apologize for it.
And he wasn’t sure which scared him more.
Silence.
Finally, Billy exhaled. “So…” A weak laugh. “Don’t pick you up anymore.” You frowned. “No.” Billy blinked. “What?” “Not no.” You shook your head. “Not never.” He looked completely lost. “So then what?” You looked down. “Just…” You exhaled. “... Maybe…” The word caught in your throat. “Maybe just…” You glanced up. Uncertain. “Give me a minute?” Asked as though you weren’t quite sure yourself. Billy blinked. “A minute?” You nodded. “Just…” “Wait.” He thought about that. Truly thought. Slowly, Billy nodded. “... Okay.”
Silence.
Another sniff.
A weak laugh.
“So.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “We’ll figure it out.” You let out a soft laugh. Billy smiled. “What?” “Mushy.” He snorted. “And touchy…” You laughed. The tension eased. Just enough. You looked at him. Really looked at him. And Billy looked back. Not teasing. Not smirking. Not joking. Just Billy. You stepped closer to him. Before he could stop himself, his hand started to rise. Instinct. He caught himself. Billy froze. Eyes darting to yours. Nervous. Uncertain. Checking.
You understood. Quietly. You took Billy’s hand. Him watching. Silent. You guided it. Resting it against your waist. Billy blinked. Looking from his hand. To you. You looked up at him. “Thank you.” Billy frowned. Almost embarrassed. “For what?” You smiled softly. “For listening.” You wrapped your arms around his shoulders. He looked away. Bashful. “Just don’t take forever.” He mumbled. You laughed. And then—
You kissed him. Billy froze for half a second. Then melted. Arms wrapping around you. Careful. Not hesitant. Not frightened. Just… Paying attention. You leaned into him. Billy smiling against your lips. Relief washing over him.
Finally.
For the first time all week—
You met him halfway.
And despite everything—
The two of you found each other.
It was February and for the first time in your life, you were actually seeing somebody as your least favorite holiday approached. Billy, so far as you could tell, was not one for romantic gestures. Persistent teasing and unashamed, unrepentant flirting seemed much more his speed. The two of you were becoming well acquainted with the Camaro. Often, you would waste time after school together in the backseat.
Billy waiting for Max. You waiting for Petey, as he no longer wanted to take the bus. Realizing that Valentine’s Day was this week, you wondered if you should say anything. Anything you did with Billy would be nice. And you didn’t care in the least if there were no chocolates. Or roses.
Friday afternoon came. The final bell rang. Billy walked out with you to the parking lot. Talking about nothing. Complaining. About Tommy. About Hawkins. About the midwest in general. Just talking.
Arriving at your Datsun, you leaned against the driver’s side door. Billy standing opposite you. Hands shoved in his pockets. You smiled. He smiled. Silence. Billy rocked back on his heels. Looking anywhere but you. “So…” He shrugged. “What’cha doin’ tomorrow?” You frowned. “Tomorrow?” He nodded. His eyes drifted over the parking lot. Casual. Disinterested. Smooth. “Yeh.” He shrugged again. A flick of his head. “Thought…” Another shrug. “Could catch a flick or somethin.” He scratched his eyebrow. The poster child of indifference. A pause. “Up t’you.” You smiled brightly. “Sure.” Billy blinked. “Yeah?” “Yeah.” You nodded happily. He nodded. “K.” “Cool.” Another pause. “Cool.” you repeated. Looking at his boots. He smiled. Failing miserably to hide it. “Pick you up ‘round six?” “Okay.” “Okay.” he repeated. Silence. Neither of you moved. Billy looked at you. You looked at him. Neither saying goodbye. Neither really wanting to.
“Tomorrow.” You smiled. “Yeh.” He smiled. Taking a step. You kissed him sweetly. Pausing to look each other in the eye as you pulled away. He rolled his lip under his teeth. “See ya.” Beaming. You watched him climb into the Camaro. The engine roaring to life. And as Billy drove away, he couldn’t stop smiling. Neither could you.
I just wanted to announce that She's a Runner Prologue* and Parts 1-3* Have been updated. Most changes are mainly flow and grammar. However, Part 3* has changed. More content has been added, and a previous portion of Part 3* has now been moved into Part 4*.
Part 4* Is the catch-up point. There are no more major shifts or additions planned following Part 4*. However, if any changes or updates are made, I will make an announcement.
As always,
Thanks for stopping in. Thanks for reading. Thanks for your time.
summary It starts with a fight. Your date with Billy was amazing. But the end? That's the whole problem. How can you make him understand? Will you? Max launches the Spanish Inquisition. Petey was right all along. Maybe Billy Hargrove isn't as annoying as you first thought.
warnings references to past sexual assault, past trauma/abuse, cursing, trauma response behavior, negative thoughts/self-talk, angst, smut/adult themes
word count 3247
note Hi everyone! This is a 2026 rewrite of Part Three to my Billy Hargrove fanfiction series, She's a Runner. This rewrite contains the remainder of the original Part 3 that was not written in the Part 2 rewrite. The original Parts 3 & 4 will remain posted. New rewrite titles will always have an * to tell the difference.
Inspired by Billy Squier’s She’s A Runner
This is an updated rewrite*
As always, any feedback is much appreciated. Thanks for reading!
He was storming toward you. If looks could kill, this would be the one that did it.
Come get me asshole.
Throwing his bag to the ground, Billy squared up in front of you. Standing at his full height, he bared down over you. “Get off my car.” He warned. You glared at him. “Oh!” “So you do see me.” His nostrils flared. Billy looked like he could toss you like a toy if he wanted to. “I’m not telling you twice.” He growled. “Get off my car.” You dug your heels in. “No.” Toe to toe, you stared each other down. You swallowed. “I want to talk.” Your heart was pounding in your ears. His gaze was blistering. It was taking everything you had not to buckle. He tossed his hands up, incredulous. “‘Bout what?!” He scowled at you. “Can’t imagine you’ve got anything left t’say.” That stung. You took a breath. “I want to explain…” His temper was rising. A sour smile on his lips. “Explain?” He scoffed. He laughed, dipping his head. Coming in close. “Yeah?” He squinted. “Explain it to me.” He bit his lip. “You tell me everything’s great, only t’run away.” Your temper was igniting. It just needed one last spark.
“What?” Your eyebrows knitted together. “Billy, what are you talking about?” Billy barked out a humorless laugh. Not a pleasant one. “Oh, c’mon.” He scoffed. “Don’t play dumb.” You stared at him in disbelief. “Do what?!” “Funny.” He nodded. “Got the message loud n’clear.” A rush of heat washed over you. “You’ve ignored me. All day!” You accused him. He laughed again. “Thought that’s what you wanted.” He bit the inside of his cheek. “Saturday.” He tilted his head. “The whole thing…” His voice dripped with bitterness. “The date. The kiss. The whole damn fairy tale.” He laughed again, shaking his head. “Guess the reviews weren’t as good as I thought.” You stared at him. That’s what he thinks? Idiot. “Jesus, Billy!” your voice raised several octaves. “You’re only the second guy I’ve ever been with!”
You stepped up, closing the space between you. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing!” you shouted. Billy blinked. The anger on his face faltered. Tears were threatening to fall. You hated being frustrated. You hated crying because you were frustrated. You refocused your attention on his chest. Trying to stave off the tears. Billy’s eyebrows knitted together. The sneer vanished. His jaw loosened. The fight seemed to leave him all at once. Confusion replacing the anger. Second? Jesus Christ. And she’d tried to tell me. He had it all wrong. “(F/N).” he breathed.
You cut him off. “I…” A pause. “I just need you to know.” A tear escaped your eye. Falling down your cheek. If you stayed still, maybe he wouldn’t notice. “I’m the fuck up.” Your voice quivered. “Not you.”
Dammit!
You couldn’t look at him. Another thing ruined by your hand. Lost forever.
You’re damaged. Nobody wants you. You don’t deserve anything. You deserve nothing.
A finger brushed the wetness of your cheek. You startled. Looking up, you met Billy’s eyes. He still looked fairly angry. But... A degree of curiosity and confusion had settled into his features. His eyebrows furrowed. His mouth had fallen slightly open. The tension in his shoulders had disappeared. He stared at you. Really stared. Like he was seeing something he didn’t understand. Something wasn’t adding up. His thumb lingered on your cheek. “Hey.” he said softly. Not angry. Not teasing. Just… soft. “Why’re you cryin’?” You opened your mouth. Nothing came out. You swallowed. Tried again. “I…” Nothing. How were you supposed to explain all this? How? You looked at him. Another tear escaped. You weren’t exactly sure if it was the adrenaline. Maybe you just needed him to know you weren’t running. But you wrapped your fists in his denim jacket. Pulling yourself up, you crashed your lips into his.
It couldn’t possibly get any worse, you reasoned. He’d just shove you to the ground and leave you. Right? Wrong — For one horrible second, you braced yourself. For rejection. For regret. For Billy to realize you’d gone nuts.
For half a second Billy froze. His eyes widening in surprise. Then. He folded. Completely. His hands found your waist as if they belonged there. Like he’d been waiting two days to touch you again. And maybe they had. A sound escaped him. Something halfway between relief and disbelief. His forehead pressed against yours. Blue eyes searching your face. Like he still couldn’t quite believe you were here. Couldn’t quite believe you were kissing him. “Jesus…” he breathed. A disbelieving laugh escaped him. “Jesus Christ…”
And then he kissed you back. Hard. Like he was trying to make up for two days apart all in an instant. Your back hit the Camaro. Enough force to knock the wind out of you. Breaking from him, you winced. Billy blinked. “Sorry.” he huffed. He didn’t sound all that sorry. He sounded dazed. Relieved. Almost laughing. His forehead fell against yours again. His eyes flickered over your face. “Yeh?” he whispered. “Yeah.” you repeated.
At some point, Billy managed to unlock the driver’s door. You weren’t entirely sure when. Or how. You just knew you were laughing softly against his mouth as he helped you into the back seat. Climbing in after you, Billy sought out your lips again. “Billy…” you whined softly, pawing at his chest.
His lips were exploring uncharted territory. Sucking dark marks into your skin, he made a claim. The feeling of his teeth grazed your skin. Pulling a silky moan from your throat. Feelings of uncertainty and fear were rising. Knocking at the back of your mind. Your chest taut. You knew. You knew all too well. If you gave into them, you’d be swallowed by them forever. And Billy would be washed away along with them. You felt overwhelmed. Unsteady. Vulnerable. You didn’t want to lose the one good thing that had happened to you in a long time. Such a long time. “Billy…” you breathed. “Please.” He stopped. Apprehension written all over his face. Blue eyes searching yours. Ready to let go. Ready to give you whatever you needed. You looked at him. And he looked back. Questioning. Uncertain.
“Keep. Going.” you implored.
Billy searched your face. Still uncertain. Still asking. You answered him with a small nod. A low rumble of agreement escaped his chest. His forehead brushed yours. Just for a moment. Blue eyes searching yours. One more time. “Yeh?” he whispered. “Yeah.” you breathed. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Softness settling over his features. And then he kissed you again.
His hand deftly undid the button on your jeans. The other guided your wrist to the growing arousal in his own. His lips lingered on yours, a low sound of contentment escaping his chest. He smiled softly, kissing you deeper. A quiet sound escaped your throat at the sheer tenderness of it. His size filled the expanse of your hand. You strengthened the kiss, palming him gently. Earning a drawn out groan against your lips. Growing braver, your hands found their way to his belt. He paused to help you. Giving you small kisses of encouragement before returning his attention to you. You kissed him back with renewed certainty. Not because the fear had disappeared. But because he hadn’t. He was still here.
His hands found their way into your jeans embarrassingly quickly. Running his fingers along the fabric of your underwear. He stopped to look at you. His eyes questioning. Once more. “Yeah.” you breathed. A smile touched his lips before he pulled you into his arms once more. His hand slipped past the elastic of your panties. A shiver running up your spine. Like shockwaves. His fingers drawing closer to your core. Instinctively, you did your best to follow his lead. You unzipped his jeans, sliding your hand inside. Your palm greeted immediately by the touch of soft skin encasing iron. You gingerly wrapped your hand around his penis. He let out a lewd moan.
You looked up at him in quiet wonder. How could somebody like you have such an effect on someone like him? The thought didn’t last long. Your attention selfishly called away. Billy slipping a finger inside you. Your head lolled back against the seat, Billy setting a steady pace. He curled his finger within you. Dragging it flat against your upper wall. Repeating. And again. You did your best to match his rhythm. Your hand wrapped around his length. Stroking softly down. Providing pressure back up. The sounds he made whenever your hand reached the tip told you all you needed to know. He liked that. Quite a lot, actually.
You made another stroke. His breath hitched. “Fuck” he ground out. His finger felt amazing. You were growing used to the feeling. Then. Billy added another. You mewled in surprise, your hips bucking. “Tight.” he huffed. Placing open-mouthed kisses on your neck. He thrust deeper. Pressure built in the pit of your stomach. His hips faltered. Thighs beginning to quiver. “Billy…” you sighed. “Me too.” he breathed. Billy shifted his wrist. Picking up the tempo. Matching you.
You clung to each other, stealing soft kisses between breaths. Neither willing to let the other go. That high reaching you. “Billy!” you cried softly. He was getting overwhelmed. Billy tucked his face into the crook of your neck. Riding himself out in your grasp. Warm spurts of cum coated your hand. Your hips bucked involuntarily. Clenching around his fingers. Both of you coming down. Billy panting softly against your skin.
The two of you were utterly breathless. Minutes went by. Comfortable silence. Billy sat up. He looked you over. “You okay?” “Peachy.” you huffed. He smirked. “If you could see the way you look…” Reality was settling back in. Raking a hand through your hair, you looked around. You froze.
He never shut the door.
You felt like your face was on fire. Tucking himself in and zipping up. Billy got out of the car. “Hold on a sec.” He popped the trunk and walked around. Returning, he handed you an auto detailing rag.
Better than nothing I suppose…
You sat up and started putting yourself back together. Out of the corner of your eye, you could’ve sworn that you saw Billy put two fingers in his mouth. But he quickly pulled out a cigarette. You didn’t get much time to think about it. You were nearly there. All back in one piece. You wiped your hand clean, when a girl with a skateboard walked up to the car. “Hey…” she said suspiciously. She squinted at Billy first. Then you. “What’s goin’ on?” Billy took a long drag from his cigarette. A flick of his head. “After school special.” If your face could get any darker, you’d be sunburned. The girl looked at you with pity. Regarding Billy with a raised eyebrow. “Ok…” the girl didn’t believe him. Not a speck. Billy took another drag. Exhaled. “(F/N), this is my kid sister. Max.” He waved a casual hand toward her. “Max. (F/N).” Simple. Introductions made. You wanted to wave politely in greeting. You truly did. But you were so keenly aware of the rag in your hand. You’d rather die. “Hey, Max.” you greeted her. Max looked unimpressed. “She coming with us?” “Oh, I can’t.” You piped up. Getting out of the car. You picked your bag off the ground. “Petey has a scouts thing I gotta be there for…” you said, dusting it off. Shouldering it. Billy looked at you. Shrugged. Taking one last pull from his cigarette. Flicking it away.
“See you tomorrow?” you asked, hopeful. Smirking, Billy pulled you in by your backpack straps. Kissing you. The taste of tobacco and nicotine lingered on his lips. “Yeh.” he replied. Beaming. You walked off toward your car. Billy watched you. Realization dawned on Max’s face. “Ahhhh.” Smug. Astute. “It’s her.” She watched you climb into your Datsun. “She’s not gonna be another one of your visitors.” Max grimaced. “Is she?” Billy made a noncommittal shrug. “Get in the car.”
Max climbed into the passenger seat. Billy sliding behind the wheel. The engine roared to life. “So…” Max began. Billy made a long sigh, brow furrowed. “No.” Simple. “So, yes.” Max concluded. “No.” he corrected. “Who is she?” Max watched the Datsun turn out of the school entrance. In the same direction that they would be turning. Billy backed out of his parking spot. “None of your business.” She ignored him. “What’s her last name?” Billy snorted. “What?” Max transitioned. “What’s her middle name?” Billy didn’t answer. Instead. He barked out a laugh. “Jesus Christ.” Eyes to the road, Billy turned out of the school parking lot. “Favorite color?” “Max.” His hand blindly adjusted the radio. “Favorite food?” “Max.” He was contemplating cranking the volume to max. “Favorite movie?” Up two decibels already. “Favorite animal?” His hand stilled. Billy looked over. “Are you serious?” She nodded curtly. “Yes.” “What’re you, the FBI?” Another three decibels up. Max sat back in her seat. “Hm.” She thought. “Favorite dinosaur?” Billy snapped his eyes to her. The car was drifting. “Favorite what?!” “Billy!” He nearly drove off the road. A brief pause. “Dinosaur.” Max concluded. Billy laughed. “What kinda stupid question is that?” She crossed her arms. “The important kind.” Billy scoffed. “Not important.” “It is.” Max pressed. “Isn’t.” “Is.” “Isn’t.” “It is.” Billy rolled his eyes. “Hell’f I know.” Max frowned out the window. “I guess you don’t know her then.” Billy’s face dropped slightly. “Shut up.” Silence. Billy cranked the radio volume high. A pause. Max, chewing over the words she would say next. A longer pause. Sitting up, she turned the volume knob to zero. “What’s her favorite song?” She was really pushing it. “Max.” “What’s her fa-” “Jesus.” Billy flicked his head back. Silent prayer to the skies. “Would you just stop?” Silence. Max shifted in her seat. She looked out the window. Suddenly. “Did she kiss you first?” Billy choked. The car jolted. “What?” Max slowly turned her head. “Ahh.” Billy’s ears were burning. “Zip it, Shitbird.” Hands gripping the steering wheel.
Delight washed over Max’s face. “Oh my God, she did!” Billy wanted to roll the car. “She did not!” She was ecstatic. “She did!” “She didn’t.” “She did!” “Didn’t!” Max shot her hands up like a touchdown. “She totally did!” Billy clenched his jaw. Eyes fixating on the end of the street. This was the longest drive home possible. Three more blocks. Max drummed her hands excitedly on the dashboard. He shot her a sidelong glance. “Max.” She looked back at him. “She did?” Billy blinked. Eyes snapping back to the windshield. “No.” “Liar.” “No.” “Ly-er.” Billy’s grip on the wheel tightened. “Just quit, will ya?” Max grinned. Big. “She kissed. You.” Billy smirked despite himself. “No comment.” “Ohhhh, she totally kissed you!” Max looked like she just won the Powerball. Billy shook his head. “You’re a pain in the ass.” “You like her.” Max teased. “No.” “Oh!” “You smiled!” “Did not.” “Yes you are.” Billy rolled his jaw. Clearing his throat. “Nope.” Max squinted. A sly smile on her lips. A sliver of silence. “Does she know about me?” Billy frowned. “What?” “I just introduced you twenty minutes ago.” Max frowned. “She’s weird.” Billy slouched. “Uh-huh.” “She didn’t freak out when I talked to her.” “Congratulations.” “Most girls do.” Billy smirked. “Told ya. Weird.” A pause. “So when is she coming over?” Billy looked over. “Never.” “Oh c’mon.” Max whined. “I barely met her for like two seconds.” “No.” “Why not?” “Because.” “Because why?” “Jesus.” He licked his lips. Cherry Lane in sight. “Because I said so.” “Hmmm.” Billy recognized that sound. He knew it far too well. He didn’t like it. Pulling up to the curb, Billy parked the Camaro. Billy narrowed his eyes, hand on the door handle. “What?” Max smirked. She opened the passenger door. Climbed out. Shut the door. “What?!” Billy pressed, head popping out above the open driver’s door. Max turned. Walking backwards up the walk. “I’m gonna figure it out.” Billy frowned. “What?” Max smiled sweetly. Sickeningly so. “You heard me.” “Max.” “-- Even if you don’t, I will.” Billy looked at her. “Don’t.” Hopping up the front steps, Max leaned against the house. Billy unlocking the door. “Too late.”
The door opened. Max scrambled inside. “Shitbird!” He shouted at her. “Dingus!” She shouted back. Billy slammed his bedroom door shut. Silence. He exhaled. From the other side of the bedroom wall: “I’LL FIGURE IT OUT!” Billy closed his eyes. Grumbling. “Jesus Christ.” Max’s muffled voice continued, “If you don’t tell me?” A pause. “I’LL ASK HER!” Billy’s eyes flew open. He pounded his fist against the wall. “NO!” “WATCH ME!” Billy sank to the floor. Eyes fixed on the opposite wall. Frowning. God. How much nosing around was she planning? Or worse. What if Max tells her things about him…? Embarrassing things. Billy groaned. It would be the living end.
Closing the front door behind you, you kicked off your shoes. Petey didn’t even look up from the television. “You kissed him.” You froze. “What?” Petey shrugged. “No.” You denied it. Petey sat there in silent judgment. “Petey!” You looked at your feet. “... What makes you think that?” Petey looked over the back of the couch. “Because of your stupid face.” “What?” You were offended. “You have a stupid face.” He affirmed. You frowned. “I do not!” “You do.” “I don’t!” Squinting, Petey pointed the remote at you. “You didn’t complain.” “I - What?” “When you get home.” Petey continued. “You always groan.” Your brow furrowed. “No I don’t.” Did you? “Yeah, you do.” He stated. Petey deepened his voice. Throwing his head back. “Ugh!” He performed. “Petey!” “Looooonng day.” You stomped your foot. “Petey!” “I do not sound like that!” He doubled down. “I GIVE UP!” “Petey!!” He lowered the remote. “You didn’t throw your bag.” He pointed out. You blinked. “You always throw your bag.” You screwed up your face. “I do not throw it.” He raised an eyebrow. “You do.” A pause. You opened your mouth. Nothing came out. Petey narrowed his eyes. “And…” He pointed at you. “You smiled.” “I always smile.” “No.” “What?” “Not like that.” “Not the stupid one.” You groaned. “What stupid one?” You might regret asking. “The one where you look like you’re thinking about something.” His eyes were down to slits. “Or someone…” Heat rushed to your cheeks. “You kissed. Him.” “No.” “Yeah!” “No!” “Yeah!” “No!” Petey grinned. You crossed your arms. “So what?” Petey’s eyes shot wide. “Ohhh, you did!” You groaned, hiding your face in your hands. He jumped up on the couch. “YOU KISSED HIM!” “SHUT UP!” “YOU DID!” “PETEY!” Petey turned toward the kitchen. “Mom!” “No!” You rushed him. Clamping a hand over his mouth. He pushed back. You wrestled him into the cushions. A menacing look in your eyes. Mouthing, ‘shut up!’ Petey calmed. The worry passed. He grinned. You looked at him suspiciously. “What?” He was smug. “You gotta boyfriend.” You exhaled. “I’m done talking about this.” You turned on your heels and hustled up the stairs. “SEE? THAT’S THE STUPID FACE!” You slammed your bedroom door. You slumped to the floor. He was going to be insufferable. You should’ve just taken a bus to Vegas. Instead of home.
summary One kiss. One mistake. And suddenly, everything falls apart. Convinced you've ruined everything, both you and Billy have the longest weekend of your lives. Sleepless nights, missed chances, unanswered phones, and a miserable Monday leave two stubborn hearts on unsteady ground.
warnings cursing, angst, negative self-talk
word count 2910
note Hi everyone! This is a 2026 rewrite of Part Two to my Billy Hargrove fanfiction series, She's a Runner. This rewrite contains the majority of the original Part 3. The remainder of the original Part 3 will now begin the Part 3 rewrite. The original Part 3 will remain posted. New rewrite titles will always have an * to tell the difference.
Inspired by Billy Squier’s She’s A Runner
This is an updated rewrite*
As always, any feedback is much appreciated. Thanks for reading!
You had fucked up. Royally.
The date had gone perfectly. Only for him to speed off angry.
You were on your bed staring at the ceiling.
Maybe you shouldn’t have stopped him.
No. Don’t be stupid. Don’t lie to yourself.
You know better.
If you didn’t stop him…
It would’ve happened all over again.
Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. You were immensely frustrated with yourself. How could you have something so wonderful and then blow it up in a single day?
You know how.
You ruin everything.
The tears started to fall freely down the sides of your face into your hair.
He never wanted you. This is your fault. Nobody will want you. This is what you deserve.
Five blocks away, Billy Hargrove was in hell. Lying on his bed, Billy stared blankly at the ceiling. One leg hung off the side of the mattress. One hand tucked beneath his head. The other rested unconsciously over his heart. A half-spent cigarette burned forgotten in the ashtray.
Jesus.
The radio was on, but none of the music reached him. He was too far away.
He rolled his jaw. Shifted. Exhaled.
Nothing.
He couldn’t settle.
She was frozen.She was scared.
A pause.
He remembered your face. Your eyes.
Another pause.
He closed his eyes. His jaw tightened. His nose twitched faintly.
I didn’t even notice.
It was right there.She tried to tell me.
And I ignored it.
Five blocks apart. Two bedrooms. Two broken hearts.
Both convinced they had ruined everything.
Both convinced the other deserved better.
Both waiting for anger.
Neither feeling it.
Neither sleeping.
Neither understanding.
And neither realizing that, beneath the same January sky, they were lying awake thinking the exact same thing.
Sunday morning. Sulking in your room. You had been staring at the same piece of wall for God knows how long. Thinking. Not wanting to think. Crying.
You heard footsteps padding up the stairs. Seconds later, your bedroom door swung open. Petey.
“Hey! Get out of bed! Mom says t-” Petey readjusted his glasses, squinting at you. “What’s wrong?” You were still looking at the wall. “Nothing.” “Liar.” He stated. “I’m fine.” You clenched your jaw. Petey crossed his arms, plating his feet. “You look awful.” Annoyed, you rolled your eyes and looked at him. “What do you want?” Petey looked concerned. “Mom wants to know if you want breakfast.” You said nothing. “She made blueberry pancakes.” He coaxed. You rolled over, pulling the covers over your head. Silence. He was still in your room. You could hear him breathing. Annoying. “Leave.” “You still look awful.” He pointed out. “Go away!” You growled. “Okay!” Petey threw his hands up. “Sheesh.” He started to leave. “I’m gonna eat your pancakes.” He threatened. You didn’t react. That usually worked. He frowned. “I’ll save you one. One…” He mumbled on the way out.
Five blocks away, things were no better.
BANG BANG BANG
“Billy!” Another subtle knock. “Billy!” Billy groaned into his pillow. “Billy! Mom made pancakes!” Another knock. Even louder. “Billy!” Face buried in the pillow, Billy’s voice came out muffled. “Tell her I’m dead.” Max frowned at the door. “What?” “I’m dead.” He repeated. “You sound stupid.” Billy groaned. “I’m serious.” “No you’re not.” He groaned again. Another knock. “Max!” He said loudly. “What?” “Go away.” A punch to the door. “No.” “Max…” “What?!” She sounded frustrated. “Go. A-way.” He emphasized. She paused. “No.” “Ugh, why?” He was begging her. “‘Cause you’re weird.” She reasoned. Billy peeped one eye open at the door. “Weird?” “Yeah.” Another pause. “You usually yell at me by now.” Billy sighed, smothering his face into the pillow. “Congratulations.” “What?” He lifted his head. “Congrats!” Billy rolled onto his back. “Scram.” Silence. Maybe he won. “Mom made blueberry pancakes.” “I’m dead.” “No you’re not.” “I’m totally dead.” “Dead people don’t smoke.” Billy blinked. The forgotten cigarette still burned in the ashtray. Max bent over, speaking through the keyhole. “You okay?” Billy stared blankly at the ceiling. “No.” Silence. “... Did she break up with you?” Billy shot up. “She’s not my -!” Fast. Too fast. Too defensive. His stomach dropped. He could hear Max smiling. “Come on.” Silence. “Billy get out!” “No.” Max stamped her foot. “Mom’s just gonna send me back up if you don’t…” Grabbing the pillow, he dropped it onto his face. Groaning. “Fine. Be that way.” She kicked the bottom of his door. Walking away.
The day dragged on. Neither of you had much of an appetite. Neither of you had much of anything. Eventually, sometime in the afternoon, boredom, guilt, hunger finally forced you out of your room. You wandered downstairs. Passing through the living room, you found Petey sprawled on his stomach on the floor, watching cartoons. Whatever it was, he’d seen it at least a dozen times. Coming back from the kitchen, you dropped onto the couch. No one said anything. The shuffle of cereal being poured filled the space. Petey looked over. “So can I have the pancake?” “The pancake?” “The one I saved.” “Don’t care.” Digging a spoon into the bowl, you took a bite of dry cereal. Petey gave you a judging look. You scrunched your nose at him, silently telling him to mind his own business. Silence. The sounds of cartoons filling the room. You absent-mindedly took another bite. And another. Petey sat up. Scooting over, he reached a hand into your bowl. You stopped chewing. He froze. Your eyes narrowed. Petey slowly retreated. You sat on the couch. Petey sat on the floor beside you. Neither of you said anything. Neither moved. You just existed.
On Cherry Lane, Billy finally emerged. Not because he wanted to. Because Max came back. Twice. Because Susan wouldn’t let Billy stay dead. Billy shuffled into the living room. Hair messy. Still wearing the clothes from last night’s date. Cigarette dangling from his lips. Max looked him over. Twice. “Wooow.” “What?” He asked in annoyance. “You look awful.” She scoffed. Plucking the cigarette from his lips, Billy exhaled. “Thanks.” She scrunched up her nose. “You smell.” “Weird.” She emphasized. Billy looked down. Last night’s clothes. Last night’s cologne. Last night’s everything. “Shit.” He muttered weakly. He looked at the television. No interest. Just distraction. He flopped onto the couch. “Watch it!” Max warned, drawing in her legs. Billy said nothing. Max’s face softened. She said nothing. Instead, she laid her feet across Billy’s lap. Both of their attention fixed on the screen.
Neither of you were really watching.
RIIING!
Your head snapped up.
Five blocks away — RIIIIIING!
Billy sat up.
You stopped mid-bite. The spoon halfway to your mouth.
Five blocks away — RIIIIING!
Billy lurched forward. Max hurriedly pulling her feet off his lap.
Petey scrambled to his feet. “I got it!”
Max bolted upright. “I got it!”
Your heart thudded.
Billy’s did too.
Hope.
Petey picked up the phone. “Hello?”
Max answered. “Yeah?”
Petey looked over his shoulder.
“Natalie.” He mouthed.
Max frowned. “No.” A pause. “Yeah.”
She looked at Billy.
Hope died twice.
“Hi, Natalie.” You forced a smile into your voice. She chatted back happily. She could have easily made the same phone call to a brick wall. She didn’t notice. “Mhmm.” You nodded along. Five blocks away, Max hung up the phone. Billy looked at her. “Just some bozo trying to sell magazines.” She answered. “Mm.” He looked back at the television. His eyes wandered. To the phone.
Leave her alone. She won’t answer. I know…
“Yeah. No problem, I’ll bring it tomorrow for you.” “Yeah. Thanks Natalie.” “Mhmm, you too.” You hung up the phone. A deep sigh. You stood there. Staring at the phone.
You already ruined it. No going back. Don’t make a fool of yourself.
You couldn’t take your hand off the receiver. You picked it up. The dial tone sounded. You held it to your ear. You swallowed. And hung up the phone.
Don’t.
The sun was setting. You sat at the kitchen table. Staring at the phone. You had already picked it up. And hung it up. At least half a dozen times. You couldn’t take your eyes off it. Five blocks away, Billy stared at the phone. He stared. And stared. And stared. He had already made up his mind.
Don’t.
The sky darkened. One by one, the lights came on in Hawkins.
Neither of you moved. Neither of you called. As Sunday faded, both of you were left with the same terrible thought.
You’d see each other tomorrow.
Monday came.
Pulling into the school, you wistfully looked for that navy blue speedster in the parking lot. A large sigh left your chest. You spotted it.
He’s here. He must already be inside.
Stopping at your locker, you took your time. Hoping. Hoping that large shadow would box you in. Hoping for that lazy grin. A wink, even. Maybe even a, “Morning, Firecracker.” But it never came. You zipped up your backpack and closed your locker. Swallowing hard, you tried to shake off the runaway thoughts. Nerves vibrating through you.
The camaro was here. He was here.
Billy couldn’t sleep. Didn’t sleep. He didn’t want to stay home. The only thing he knew for certain was where he didn’t want to be. Getting in the Camaro, he drove. Everywhere. Nowhere. Ending up in the parking lot of Hawkins High long before the sun came up. He sat. The radio playing softly. The heater humming. The cigarette between his fingers burned. Forgotten. Time passed. Students began arriving. The lot starting to fill. Billy barely noticed. Until —
The beige Datsun. Her.
His heart leapt.
Firecracker.
He sat up. Watching you pull into the parking lot. Watching you park. Watching you climb out. His breath caught. You looked in the direction on the Camaro. Billy nearly folded himself in half. Ducking behind the steering wheel.
Jesus Christ.
He peeked back up. You were gone. Already heading inside. Billy sank into the seat. A long drawn out sigh.
Leave her alone. Give her space. She deserves that. I don’t.
He waited. Five minutes. Ten, maybe. Waiting until he was certain that you were inside. Then, and only then, did Billy Hargrove step out of the Camaro.
The Datsun was here. You were here.
The warning bell echoed through the parking lot. Billy walked slowly. He was in no hurry to get to first period. To you. He entered the classroom. Late. Mr. Dawson gave him a lecture. Your eyes glued to him the minute he crossed the threshold. Seeing him enter the room made you calmer. A small smile tugged at your lips.
He’s here.
Billy kept his eyes on his desk. Dropped into his seat. Slumping over. No grin. No wink. No, “Morning, Firecracker.” Resting his chin in his hand, Billy spun his pencil in circles on the desk. No acknowledgment. Nothing.
The smile slowly faded from your face. Your heart sank. All the horrible thoughts you had been trying to shut out came flooding back.
See? He won’t even look at you. You ruin everything. He doesn’t want you. You’re utterly worthless.
You choked back a sob. Your vision blurred. Clouding with tears. You hastily wiped them away. You couldn’t take your eyes off him. It was as if you thought sheer willpower would make him look at you. It didn’t happen. He never budged.
Billy’s hairs stood on end. He knew you were staring. He could feel it. And he couldn’t look. His pencil spun. Round and round. He wasn’t even thinking about it. He just needed something to do with his hands. Mr. Dawson’s voice became background noise. Just words. Sentences. Nothing stuck. Billy checked the clock. 9:22. Jesus. He rolled his jaw. Shifted in his seat. He kept his eyes on the desk. Your stare. Constant. He could feel it. 9:37. How? It felt like ages. He swallowed. Resisting the urge to look.
Don’t. Leave her alone. Give her space.
9:51. Tommy drummed his pencil. Billy nearly jumped. “What!?” He snapped. Tommy frowned. “Relax, man.” Billy cursed under his breath. 10:05. Almost. Just get through class. 10:11. Almost. 10:14. Jesus Christ. The bell rang. Billy’s heart dropped. Oh no. Your feet. Standing in front of his desk. Waiting. He stood. His stomach bottomed out.
She’s waiting. Just take it. I deserve it.
Still unable to look at you. He grabbed his bag. And walked away. His chest twisted.
Good. She doesn’t have to look at me.
You found yourself checking the clock. 9:24. Focus. 10:05. Class would be ending soon. That was your chance. 10:11. Almost. 10:14. Your knee bounced beneath the desk. Just a few more seconds. Then you could explain yourself. To him. 10:15. The bell rang. Chairs scraped. Books snapped shut. Students stood. People were leaving.
Look at me. Please.
Shouldering your backpack, you gathered your textbook in your arms. You couldn’t leave it alone. You couldn’t let him leave. Standing in front of his desk, you waited. He saw you. You knew he saw you. He stood. You waited. Nothing. He grabbed his bag. You waited. Nothing. He walked around you. Head down. Never once looking at your face. Turning his back on you. Like you never existed.
Worthless! Stupid! You ruin everything! No man will ever want you.
The day went on. You couldn’t find Billy during lunch. He wasn’t in his usual spots. The picnic tables. The football field. The elm at the corner of campus. You spent the entire hour scouring the school. Top to bottom. He was avoiding you on purpose. Your chest felt tight and heavy. You worried you might collapse. You weren’t even sure he was still at school.
He was here. He left.
French was torture. Everything was automatic. Your answers to Mme. Jenkins. Your smile. Reading. Writing. Nothing stuck. Alexandra asked you a question. “What?” She repeated herself. You blinked. You automatically agreed. Whatever it was she said.
Across the school, Billy stared blankly out the window in English. “Hargrove.” Nothing. “Hargrove.” A hard elbow. Tommy. Billy blinked. “What?” The teacher sighed. “What page are we on?” Billy looked down. Absolutely no clue. Tommy snorted. “Hey!” “Earth to Hargrove!”
Between classes was worse. You caught sight of that blond hair. Twice. Disappearing around corners. You hurried after. Twice. You lost him. Twice. Five minutes later, Billy turned at the sound of footsteps. Hope surged. Not you. His chest sank. By lunch, both of you were exhausted.
Billy was back in the Camaro. Window cracked. Cigarette between his lips. The radio on low. He tensed. You exited the school. You were looking. He knew why. His chest pulled tight. Watching you search. You knew all the places. His places. He absent-mindedly chewed on the filter.
She’s lookin’ for me. Stop. It’s not worth it. I’m not.
His eyes followed you from one end of the campus to the other. You stopped. Crossing your arms. Eyes scanning the horizon. Your eyes briefly settled on the Camaro. Billy froze. You looked. But you didn’t see him. Eventually, you sighed. And turned away. Billy watched you disappear back inside. His heart sank.
You were here. You left.
The day was nearly over when you finally laid eyes on him again. Chemistry. Sitting with Carol Perkins. You couldn’t stand it. Sitting down. Billy leaned toward her, saying something under his breath. The sound of Carol’s raucous laughter invaded your ears. You bristled. Annoyance pierced the sadness you’d been wrapped in all day.
Oh. So he could talk. Just not to you.
He’s done with you. You mean nothing to him. You’re worthless.
You weren’t going to let him avoid you any longer. Beating down the thoughts. You waited in agony for the end-of-day bell.
This was your last chance. If it didn’t work—
You’d lose him forever.
Chemistry was no better. Carol Perkins talked. And talked. And talked. Billy barely heard any of it. “I mean, right?” Carol laughed. “Huh?” Billy blinked. She laughed harder. Billy grunted. “Yeah, I guess.” Carol launched into another story. Billy’s eyes wandered. Finding you. His stomach lurched. Quickly, you looked away.
Good. Leave her alone. She deserves better.
The bell couldn’t come fast enough. The clock ticked. And ticked. And ticked. Billy checked it every thirty seconds. Every minute. Every five. Anything to make the hands move faster. Across the room, you were doing the same thing. Not that either of you knew. 2:42. 2:53. 3:01. Almost.
Billy shifted in his seat. You bounced your knee. Carol laughed again. Billy grunted. You bristled. Neither of you heard half of what Mrs. Decker was saying. 3:12. Almost. 3:14. Billy’s stomach twisted. Your palms were sweating.
One more minute.
One last chance.
The final bell rang. A perfect head start. Ignoring your own locker, you exited the building and headed straight for the Camaro. Your bag hit the asphalt. You planted yourself. And waited. Leaning against the driver’s side door as casually as you could make yourself look. Your heart was trying to beat its way out of your chest. Five minutes went by. The doors opened. There he was. Billy. He stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes locked onto you. Reclining against his car. Waiting. He frowned. Oh no. His pace quickened. His stride doubled.
He’d spent the entire day running. And now he couldn’t.
summary A broken-down Datsun, a snow day, and one first date. Unfortunately, understanding each other is proving much harder than falling for each other.
warnings cursing, angst
word count 5066
note Hi everyone! This is a 2026 rewrite of Part One to my Billy Hargrove fanfiction series, She's a Runner. This rewrite is combines the original Part 1 and 2. The original Part 1 and Part 2 will remain posted. New rewrite titles will always have an * to tell the difference.
Inspired by Billy Squier’s She’s A Runner
This is an updated rewrite* As always, any feedback is much appreciated. Thanks for reading!
You sat in your car. Just a little while longer. Enjoying the warmth before going out into the bracing January cold. A contented smile graced your lips.
Today was Thursday. No History. No Chemistry.
No Billy.
Happily snuggled in the driver’s seat, you rested your eyes. Pulling your scarf a little tighter. There was easily twenty minutes before you would have to head into Hawkins High.
Today was going to be a good day. Or so you thought…
HONK HOOONK HONK
You jumped, your head nearly hit the roof. Startled from your daydream, you sat bolt upright. The whine of the horn was intrusive.
No. Now? No no no.
Please no. Not today.
Looking out the driver’s side window you saw Billy Hargrove pull into the parking spot next to you. A prideful smirk splayed on his lips. You groaned loudly, throwing your head back against the headrest several times.
What did I ever do to deserve this?
Maybe if I give myself a concussion, it’ll all go away.
Ugh.
You narrowed your eyes at him. He responded with a playful little wave. You rolled your eyes and dropped your forehead on the steering wheel.
Whhhhhhhhyyyy?
You killed the engine, leaving your car as quick as you could. Nearly sprinting to the school. You purposely ran across several patches of black ice.
Please break a leg. And leave me. A-lone!
He had a passenger. No way he could catch up. I have the advantage.
You skidded to a halt, swaying to keep your balance. He beat you to the doors.
How!?
Your eyes scanned for other entry points. None. You grimaced horribly. Trudging toward the doors of Hawkins High. Toward Billy Hargrove. He held the door open for you, one arm stretched across the top. Leaning against the doorframe. He became the door. Great. You sniffed hotly. No going around. Only through. You closed your eyes, squeezing yourself beneath the arch of his arm. He smirked. “Mornin’.” You didn’t greet him. You didn’t thank him. He followed you. You glanced at the ceiling.
God, please…. I’m so tired.
He bumped your shoulder, bringing you back to earth. You looked at him suspiciously. “Your Wheaties sure got you in a good mood this morning.” “Oh even better,” he gushed. “My spot was open.” He was far too happy. He followed you all the way to your locker. Leaning against the one adjacent to yours. You opened your locker, ignoring him.
Had you purposely given him his precious spot back?
Yes.
But he didn’t know that you spent the better part of ten minutes idling in the school parking lot. Arguing with yourself about whether it was worth it or not. You finally convinced yourself, pulling in one spot over.
He doesn’t need to know. I just wanted some peace. To be left alone.
This plan had failed.
“Can’t you be somebody else’s headache today?” You complained. He chuckled, snatching the literature book from your hands. You went to reach for it. He lofted it high. Out of your reach. “Billy, I need that for first period!” He leaned down, taunting you. Begging you to try and take it from him. Taking a deep breath, you jumped for it. A trick shot. He kept it away. Laughing at your feeble attempt. Then he stepped closer. Too close. Artfully sliding his free arm around your waist, he lowered the book within reach. The halls were filling with morning activity. Students opening lockers, making greetings, catching up. Your skin crawled. Your face heated. He was smiling at you. You couldn’t meet his eyes. He had you. He laughed softly, finally handing back the book. Then his free hand drifted slowly up the length of your arm. You stiffened. Too easy, he thought.
“Come out with me this weekend,” he stated. Not asked. You continued to avoid his eyes, shoving the book into your backpack. You frowned, looking at your shoes. He was unbearably close. You could feel the heat radiating off your cheeks. He dipped his head, anticipating your answer. You took a breath. “No….” His arm around you loosened. He scoffed. A disbelieving laugh. “No???” You wriggled free of his grasp. “No.” You said with a tiny bit more conviction. You shut your locker and walked away. Billy looked confused. “Hey!” He followed after you. “Wait a sec!” Your heart was racing. You just wanted it to stop. He caught up. You rounded on him. Pressing a firm finger to the center of his chest. “I may not get out much. … I may not party or raise hell like other kids.” You were irritated. “But I have ears… I’m not falling for your bullshit.” “No!” You poked hard for emphasis. You stalked off. The bell rang.
You were looking forward to a Billy-free day. Now… You kind of felt guilty.
Was that too harsh? Nah. He’ll never learn if you don’t put your foot down.
You glanced back into the hall before entering the classroom. Billy was there. Standing in an empty hallway. Staring at his boots.
American Lit sucked. Your mind wasn’t in your work. You spent half the class staring into space. Off in your own little world.
He’s mad. Has to be. Why didn’t he look it? Billy’s always mad. Everybody says so.
“(F/N)?” Mr. Trent snapped his fingers in front of your face. You blinked. “Sorry?” Mr. Trent straightened. “Everybody, I know lunch is nigh but try to pay attention.” A few classmates snickered. You slumped in your chair. Wonderful. Even Mr. Trent knew your brain was MIA. The bell finally rang.
You skipped out on lunch, aimlessly walking about. You frowned.
Should I apologize? No. Absolutely not. He’ll never leave you alone. You apologize and Billy Hargrove’s gonna be smiling at you at your funeral.
You found yourself in front of the gym. The shuffling and squeaking of sneakers brought you back to earth. Leaning in the open doorway, you looked in. You smiled softly. Familiar faces. Steve. Bob. Paul. Tommy. It was a pickup game. The varsity team was putting new prospects through their paces. They were pretty okay. But one. One of them was really good. You could tell. And you barely even knew how to count points in basketball. That said something. Whoever he was, he had absolutely no business looking that good in gym shorts. A crime.
He moved differently. Smoother. Faster. Like he knew where someone would be, before even they knew it. You found yourself watching with deep interest. Which was strange. You didn’t even like basketball. He was an absolute force. Crowding Steve. Not ceding a single inch. Steve went down. Ball in play. This mystery star player ran. An alley-oop. Straight into the basket.
You clapped. Not loudly. Just soft admiration. Recognition. With him, Hawkins High might win more than three games this season. He turned with a triumphant smile. It was Billy.
Your face dropped.
Shit.
You froze. He spotted you. He looked surprised to see you. Quickly giving way to an excited grin. Coated in a sheen of sweat and breathing hard, he looked almost feral. Like somebody loosed a wolf onto the basketball court.
You backed out of the doorway. He was coming over. “Hey!?” You winced.
Too late to run.
He stood in front of you. Glowing. Beaming. You looked away. Rubbing your arm awkwardly. “I… didn’t know you played basketball.” You muttered sheepishly. He crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. He was growing smug. “Yeah.” He huffed. You looked anywhere but at him. This was your own mess. You were stuck. “That was a nice play.” You nudged at the court. “Nice?” He casually looked back at the court. And then back to you. You locked eyes. Your cheeks were heating. His tongue peeking between his teeth, he smirked. “Not falling for my bullshit are you?” You frowned. You hated how he flustered you. He chuckled. “Y’know, you co-” The warning bell rang. Fifth period. He broke eye contact. Without a word you walked off. “Catch you later, Firecracker!” He hollered after you. With a raised eyebrow, you turned and looked at him. He gave you a flirtatious wave, reentering the gym.
Firecracker?
You turned and walked toward fifth period. Sucking your lips in, you tried to stifle the smile threatening to appear.
Was he for real? Genuine? Or… Was this all going to blow up in your face?
You didn’t want to think about that right now. You felt giddy. Fuzzy all over. Which was concerning. You needed to get a hold of yourself. If you felt any worse, you’d be skipping into class. Thankfully you didn’t. That would’ve been humiliating.
The school day finished. You were thankful. Your head was swimming with emotions. You hadn’t felt like this in a long time. You weren’t sure that you wanted to. You needed to even out. Not space out.
Luckily. Billy wasn’t hovering around your locker. A giant sigh left your body. You packed up your things and headed for the parking lot. Snow was starting to fall in big fat flakes. A stronger storm was forecast for tomorrow morning. Praying that tomorrow would be a snow day. Unlocking your car, you got in and shut the door. You turned the ignition.
Putt-putt-putt
You frowned and turned the key again.
Putt-putt-putt Putt-putt-putt Putt-putt
The car wouldn’t start. “What now?” You checked all the gauges on the dashboard. Everything looked fine. You stubbornly turned the key. Again. The engine weakly sputtered in reply. You tried once more. Nothing. It wouldn’t turn over. You slouched in your seat. “Whhhy?” You whined.
You lost count of how many more attempts you made. “GAHH!” You yelled, rattling the steering wheel. “JUST WORK DAMMIT!”
Tap Tap Tap
You didn’t hear it. Trying to force the car to turn into a magic carpet.
WRAP WRAP
You jumped. The windows were fogged over. Taking a gloved hand, you wiped down the driver’s window. Billy was standing there. Hands in his pockets. He leaned toward the window. “What’sa matter?” He seemed mildly concerned. You blinked at him. Snowflakes were catching in his hair. His cheeks were ruddy.
TAP
“Hey!” Billy was waiting. You snapped out of it. “It won’t start.” You stated with frustration. Billy took a glance at your car. “Open your hood.” He instructed. “Why?” You asked somewhat defensively. “I’m gonna check your engine.” You raised an eyebrow, visually questioning his credentials. He motioned to the Camaro behind him. “Have you seen my car?” He was sarcastic but proud. Without a word, you popped the hood. Billy disappeared. A tug here, a clank there. He returned to you. “Get out.” He said. You bristled. “Why?” “Do you want help or not?” “Fine…” You got out, Billy slid in. He looked over the gauges. Pushed a few buttons. Turned the ignition.
Putt-putt-putt-putt
Billy got out of your car. “Think your gas line is frozen.” You wiped a hand down your face in frustration. Billy shut the hood. Rubbing his hands together, he breathed into them. “Well Firecracker?” “Looks like you need a ride.” You pulled your coat up tight. Tucking your scarf over your ears. “I’ll walk.” You declared. He raised an eyebrow at you. “You’re not walkin’.” “I am.” You fetched your backpack from the backseat. He unlocked the Camaro and opened the passenger door. You eyed him warily. Billy rolled his eyes dramatically. “Just get in? I won’t pull anything.” You narrowed your eyes. “Promise?” “Yeah, whatever. Get in.” He seemed somewhat concerned about you dying in some snow bank on the way home. He was already in the driver’s seat. Ducking his head, he looked at you. Standing stubbornly in the snow. “I know you live eight blocks away…” Your eyes snapped to his. “What?” Incredulous. “How?!” He started the engine. “You live on Birch, right?” You took one look back at your car. “Fine.” You slid into the passenger seat and shut the door.
Closing the door of the Camaro, you pulled your knees together, hands clasped in your lap. You looked straight out the windshield. “Yeah. … Birch.” Snow was beginning to swirl. The wind batted it about the parking lot in rolling drifts. The sun was setting, casting a pink-orange glow over the football field. Billy revved the engine, catching your attention. He chuckled at your reaction. Pulling off school property. “What the hell do you keep under that hood?” You sounded concerned. Billy smiled proudly. “You know cars?” “... I drive a Datsun” You answered dryly. He laughed. Maybe even louder than he intended. You were sort of funny. Billy made a right. “So…” You looked over at him, “So…?” “You lived in Hawkins forever?” He asked. You shook your head. “No. I moved here when I was nine.” He perked up. “Oh? Where’s the Firecracker really from?” “The Seattle-Tacoma area. Washington.” He made a left. Your street was three blocks away.
Billy didn’t think it was even possible that another west coaster would’ve been dumb enough to land themselves in this cowpie’s excuse of a town. And yet. Here you were.
“Why’d you move out to the sticks?” You shifted in your seat. Uneasy. “My uh… My Dad died. Mom has family out here.” Billy fell quiet. The car was decreasing in speed. There was a noticeable pause. “Sorry ‘bout that…” His hands were fidgeting on the steering wheel. “Don’t be.” You cleared your throat. “I’m so sick of ‘sorry’.” You took a breath. “Enough to last a lifetime.” You snapped to attention, “Ah, here.” You pointed. “This is me. Here.”
Billy pulled into your driveway. Your house was modest. Two-stories. Barely bigger than his own. Robin egg blue and white trim. Christmas lights were still decorating the shrubs and bushes. Snow gathering on top of them. They looked like marshmallows with rainbow sprinkles peeking through. There was a snowman in the front yard. It was crude. An old mop lopsided on its head. Bra and panties adorning its form. You sucked in wind.
Billy’s eyes were drinking in the whole scene. A few choice obscenities slipped from your lips. Billy looked at you. Mildly surprised. Those ones? You growled, “Petey, I swear to God…” “Petey?” Billy asked. “My kid brother.” You were exasperated. “We’re at war.” You explained. Amusement filled Billy’s features. “Some of Petey’s buds were teasing that I was his girlfriend.” You motioned to yourself, “clearly.” A sigh. “I leaned into it… he didn’t like that.” A small mischievous grin lit up your face. “He’s been taking the bus all month.” You were delighted. Billy chuckled. He hadn’t pegged you as a deviant. Billy looked back out the windshield. “That supposed to be you?” He motioned with two fingers, the remainder wrapped around the steering wheel. You glowered at the frosty being. “He probably thinks so.” Your nose wrinkled in irritation. “Gremlin.” The front door opened. Billy looked over. A boy with sandy blonde hair and glasses was standing in the doorway. He paused, looking at you and Billy. Sticking out his tongue, he flipped the bird with both hands. Billy snorted. That kid couldn’t have been much older than Max. You slumped in your seat. “He’ll be lucky to see tomorrow.” Laughing, Billy reached behind the seat retrieving your backpack. “What about your mom?” Billy asked. You took your backpack, grateful. “At work.” Putting a hand on the Camaro door, you popped the lock. “She works graves at Hawkins Memorial.” You slung your bag over a shoulder. “It’s just me and Petey most of the day.”
To Billy, the thought of having his father gone for nearly the entire day sounded like heaven. The look that lingered in your eyes. Told him otherwise. “Guess you gotta go then?” he asked. You nodded. You got out of the car carefully. Outstretching your arms so you wouldn’t slip. You walked around to the driver’s side. Billy rolled down the window.
Your cheeks were rouged. “Hey… thanks.” You felt very sheepish. Billy wore an easy smile. He waved your gratitude away with a casual hand. He pulled a cigarette from the carton in his breast pocket. Slotting it between his lips, he lit it. “Don’t mention it.” He mumbled.
“Saturday.” You blurted out. “Saturday?” He repeated. You nodded with a small smile. “Seven. … and after. You can help me figure out whether I should donate my car to the school lost and found.” A broad grin. His eyes lighting up. “Saturday. Seven.” “Yup.” You stepped back, giving him a small wave. He rolled up the window and backed out. Giving you two honks of the horn, he waved before driving off. Once his taillights were out of sight, you threw your head to the sky and yelled. “WHAT THE HELL PETEY!”
It seemed like Friday came and went in a flash. As predicted, a snow day was called. School was cancelled. You slept in, happily. You had no rushing around to do today. You spent most of the day shoveling out your driveway. A couple breaks were made so you and Petey could throw shovels full of snow at each other. And chasing him around for smashing snow in your face. The rest of the day was for reading and homework. For Petey? TV. Always TV. Which is exactly where he was at this moment. TV on. Petey was watching Dukes of Hazzard. The phone rang.
You were in the kitchen. Dinner was nearly ready. You set down the wooden spoon and picked up the phone. Putting a hand over the receiver, you yelled. “Petey keep it down!” “Yeah yeah yeah!” “(L/N) residence?” You answered. A drawl on the other end of the line. “Hey, Firecracker.” “Billy?!” The surprise was thick in your voice. “Yeh.” He huffed. You squinted. “How’d you get my number?” You could practically hear him shrugging over the phone. “Asked around…” “My number is unlisted.” You pressed. “I asked Tina. She asked Betty. Betty knows some girl that knows you. Natalie? I think.” He sounded far too happy with his detective skills.
“Poor Natalie.” You remorsed. She was your closest friend. But she would fold like a dollar bill in a hurricane when it came to keeping information private. That girl was the personification of a shrinking violet. By comparison she made you look actually outgoing. She wore dresses and listened to Franky Valli and Elvis. You wore denim and listened to anything you could get your hands on. She wore her hair in bows and ponytails. You kept your hair long and side swept. You disavowed the going trends for huge volume and hairspray. You hardly ever pulled your hair up. Aside from PE. She wore cardigans. You wore corduroy. She loved the 50s. You loved the 70s. The two of you couldn’t have been more different.
“You might owe her damages, Hargrove.” He laughed. “Maybe.” He cleared his throat. “Wanted to tell you to dress warm tomorrow night.” “Why?” You raised an eyebrow. “You taking us to the Overlook Hotel?” You couldn’t resist deviling him. He snorted. “Might if you keep it up.” “All work and no play makes Billy Hargrove a dull boy.” You recited. You could picture him. Smiling. One on your own lips. Absent-mindedly coiling your finger in the phone cord.
You peered around the corner and checked the time. “Looking forward to it. ‘Til then I gotta go. Dinner.” A soft huff. “K. See ya.” You hung up the phone. Turning back to the kitchen, Petey confronted you. Smug. Real smug. Brandishing the stirring spoon, you threatened him. “Shut up. Before I make you shut up.” Petey threw his head back laughing. “You gonna kiss him?” He teased. You pointed at the table. “Sit, Twerp.” You slapped the plates onto the table. Dishing veggies and meatloaf onto the dishes. “I just might.” You quipped. Giving him a larger portion of vegetables. “Ah, c’mon!” You smiled. “Y’know what?” You gasped. “You might even have to see it!” Petey looked utterly disgusted. Doubling over and dry heaving. “Uaggh!” You both laughed.
Saturday night arrived fast. Quicker than you thought.
You never would’ve pegged yourself as one of those girls who were indecisive. Yet here you were. Clothes strewn everywhere. The only thing you had decided on was your underwear. Because that wasn’t happening. You held up a sweater with your left hand. Switching you held up the sweater in your right.
Why is this such a process? Men. They have it so much easier.
It was nearly 6:34pm when you finally decided. A cream cable-knit sweater. You pulled it from the far back of your closet. It was lower cut than you typically liked, but you liked how the color warmed the tone of your skin and brought light to your eyes. It was perfect. You matched it as best you could with a pair of dark-washed straight leg jeans. And your favorite pair of boots. Blowing out your hair, you brushed the curls loose. You were generous but not sadistic with the hairspray. Soft. Bouncy. Sleek and shiny. Heather Locklear would be so proud if she knew.
The doorbell rang. Your heart skipped a beat.
Rushing into the hall, you leaned over the bannister. “Petey! PEEEETEY!” He answered from below, “yeah yeah yeah. I know!” He took a minute to watch the scene unfolding on the TV before he could pry himself away. You heard his voice. The front door closing. A soft laugh. Casual conversation. The deep timbre of Billy’s voice rising up from the living room. Mouth agape, you curled your lashes and applied mascara. He and Petey were talking about something… Hopefully Petey wasn’t selling you out. You placed small pearl studs on your ears. One last look.
It’s gonna have to be good enough. Here goes nothing.
It was the first date you’d been on in over two years.
Gingerly descending the staircase, you paused on the bottom step. Billy paused his chat with Petey. His eyes washed over you. Softening as his gaze met yours. “Beautiful.” He commented. You blushed. A coy smile. “Thanks.” Billy was wearing a steel blue button-down shirt. Only half-done up. Dark jeans. Black leather boots. A wool-lined black leather bomber jacket clutched in his left hand. “You don’t look so bad.” You complimented. Petey made an exaggerated gag. You shot him a look.
Fetching your winter coat from the closet, Billy held it as you put it on. You gave him an appraising look. “You said it was going to be cold.” “I did.” “So what’s with the shirt?” You pointed at his chest. Shrugging the jacket over his broad shoulders, Billy flicked his head in thought. “I dunno.” You waved goodbye to Petey. He shut the front door. “It’s just my look.” Billy was sincere. “It’s a damn good way to get frostbite.” You critiqued. “You didn’t grow up with snow. Did you?” Billy smiled. “Nah, not much snow.” He opened the Camaro passenger door for you. “Plenty of waves.” “Where’re you from again?” “California.” “Southern California.” He clarified. Closing your door, he got in on the driver’s side. The engine rumbled to life as he backed out of the driveway. “Ahhh.” Something clicked. Billy paused in the road. One eyebrow climbing. “So this whole thing…” You motioned at him, “This macho thing.” You paused thoughtfully. “Is just a Californian in deep denial.” Billy barked out a laugh. Lowering his foot to the accelerator, you headed off. “You’re a helluva smartass.” He observed. You smiled slyly. “Guilty.”
The drive was relatively short. Passing through town to the east. Billy turned off the country road and down a long drive. The glow of lights in the distance. He pulled up to McCorkle's Farm. They had been running a lights display and a small winter festival with some input from the city of Hawkins. The festival started shortly after Christmas. This was the last weekend of January it would be running.
A broad smile graced your lips. “Ah!” Happy surprise. “I’ve never had any time to see this. I always miss it.” Looking out the driver’s window, Billy exhaled so quietly that you almost missed it. He’d been hoping that you hadn’t already seen the festival. Every other girl at Hawkins High had been talking about it for weeks.
The festival was far from spectacular. It was quaint. Electric light displays in the shapes of snowflakes, reindeer, and snowmen were pinned to stacked hay bales. Lights hung everywhere. Woven around dormant bean poles and snaked through the fallow fields. Even the tractor had been decorated.
Billy approached you with two steaming cups of hot chocolate. You accepted one graciously. Blowing on it a couple times, you took a careful sip. You laughed. Billy raised an eyebrow. “What?” You took another sip. “We should have brought our own. This is mud.” Closing an eye, Billy peered at his cup suspiciously. He gave it a swirl. Taking a cautious sip. His face scrunched up. “Jesus.” Billy spat out a glop of cocoa mix. You laughed before you could even think about it. “I told you.” Billy looked at the swill, betrayed. “This ain’t cocoa.” “You think?” He poured the cup’s contents out on the snow. “This is radioactive waste.” You laughed harder. Handing him your cup, Billy tossed them both in a nearby oil drum. He shoved his hands in his pockets, chewing the inside of his cheek. “So…” You began. “Aside from the snow, how do you like Hawkins?” He shrugged, scuffing his boot in the snow. “S’okay. I guess.” “Bullshit.” You hummed. He looked at you surprised. A smug grin on your lips. “Everyone new here hates this place.” You explained. “If you were excited to be here, I’d be getting you a straightjacket.” You both giggled. “Yeh.” He sighed. He was drawing shapes with his toe.
“Do you miss it there?” You both started walking. He shrugged, shuffling his feet through the snow. “Sometimes.” He kicked away a frozen snowball. “Sun.” He paused. “Ocean.” He sniffed. “Good tacos.” You snorted. “Tacos?” “Good tacos.” He corrected you. “We’ve got tacos…” He shot you a sharp look. “Taco Palace doesn’t count.” You laughed. “That thing is an eyesore.” You pointed at a warped light display. You turned your head sideways. “What’s it supposed to be?” Billy tilted his head too. “Hawkins.” He said flatly. You cracked up. “Be serious.” “I am.” He mocked offense. “Look.” You both tilted your head in unison. “All messed up.” He pointed to one edge. “A whole bunch of nothin’.” “An eyesore.” You both laughed. Turning on your heel, you gave the display a dismissive wave. “Next year, we’ll go to the one in Gary.” Billy paused. You walked ahead. “Much better.” A small smile on his face. “Petey and I went with my aunt and uncle once...” You were rambling. “They had a sleigh. With horses. They were huge!” Billy had to catch up. “Cocoa? Much much better. Oh and elephant ears.” “Elephant ears?” He questioned. You looked at him like it was obvious. “Yeah, like the ones you get at the state fair.” His face was blank. You sighed. “It’s like pizza dough, but with sugar and cinnamon.” Recognition flashed across Billy’s features. “Fried dough?” “Elephant ears.” You corrected him. “Yah, it’s fried dough…” “That’s not what it’s called.” You laughed. He laughed. “Ok. Whatever.”
Critiquing the half-hazard decorations, you ambled through the rows of hay bales. Sharing stories about what winters were like in California and Washington. “Billy, that's not winter.” You frowned. “‘Course it is.” He was indignant. You chuffed. “Billy, no snow, no winter.” He looked at you hotly. “No leaves… Winter.” You stared at each other. You cracked, looking away and smiling. “That’s a weirdass winter.”
Before you knew it. Time has caught up with you. It was time to head home.
Settling into the Camaro, Billy turned on the engine. Letting the car warm up. “What did ya think?” He asked tentatively. “That was great!” You hummed happily. Your cheeks were still pink from the cold. “Good.” “So glad I came.” You mumbled to yourself. Billy smiled softly. Turning on the headlights, the Camaro’s beams washed over a small group of tweens. In the road. Staring at you. Staring at the car. Billy smirked. Putting his foot down, he tested the accelerator. The engine revved.
VROOM VRRRROOOM VRRROOM.
Their eyes went wide and the tweens scattered. You bit your lip. “Billy, that's not funny.” Liar. It was funny. He grinned. “Sure.” He didn’t believe you.
Arriving at your house, Billy killed the engine. He got out and opened the passenger door for you. “I had a really great time.” You smiled brightly. “Glad to hear.” An undertone of pride in his voice. Stepping from the vehicle, Billy shut the door after you. You locked eyes. Blushing, you shoved your hands in your pockets. “I’ll see you on Monday.” You started heading for the porch. Billy grabbed your wrist, pulling you back. You blinked in confusion. He smiled. “Forgetting somethin’?” He reeled you in. “C’mere.”
Arms wrapped around you, he kissed you. Instinctively, you braced your hands against his chest. You were shocked. Your heart was thundering. It had been so long since you kissed anyone. Was this right? It didn’t feel that way.
Don’t fuck this up. The night was perfect. Don’t ruin it.
He moved, pulling you in closer. Brushing his lips against your softly. You were frozen. Hands gripping his shirt. Holding on. It felt like he was impossibly close. You felt like you were suffocating. The panic was rising. His kisses grew more confident. More certain.. Your stomach bottomed out. Cold flooding your veins. You pressed against him. “B-.” You tried to speak. He didn’t hear you. Wrapped up in the moment. You couldn’t stand it. You needed to get away. You shoved him. Billy stumbled back against the Camaro. “St-stop.” You cried weakly. He looked shocked. You avoided his eyes. You were near tears. You needed to calm down. His eyes never left you for a second. “G-...good night.” You pulled your coat tight around you. He looked like you had slapped him. You turned, looking back from the porch. Billy was in the Camaro. Hastily, he pulled away. The engine revved, shifting gears. He sped off. Without a word.
