Billy Batson doesn't know what to feel he thinks he's numb or maybe that numbness is just sadness that he's gotten used to. He finds himself annoyed at the smallest requests, his head hurts with every request or job he's asked to do from homework to a justice league member asking for him to pick up a shift. It's all so annoying. But he has to because he's always done it before so why can't he do it now?
He can't tell if this is puberty or not or if he's actually not as pure hearted as he thought he was. Billy's trying his best to not sink into the hole that keeps growing bigger in him. He's still good, or he thinks he is. His heart hurts the same whenever something bad happens.
He can't tell his feelings apart, any emotions he feels are muted down by sadness. People don't understand him, they never do. They think it's puberty, just teen hormones affecting him but it just feels so much worse. They keep telling him to take his mind off of things, listen to music, ready draw, journal, or whatever fits the book but it doesn't work no matter how hard he tries to get himself out of this mind set.
He doesn't know if this is depression, I mean he's still functioning the same as ever right? Isn't depression meant to be worser. He doesn't want to know if he has it or not but he doesn't wanna accept that this is just normal gloominess.
It's all so annoying, but he can't show it whether it's the happy go lucky Captain Marvel who never takes off the grin on his face or the cheerful boy who Billy is or is supposed to be. It feels like a mask, of who he wants to be right now, the only way he deals with it is by himself, because he doesn't want to take pity from people or make his loved ones worry.
Warning: This was originally written in Brazilian Portuguese and edited using Google Translate; please excuse any grammatical errors.
His arms were tired, aching from the continuous movements, one side at a time plunging into the cold, salty water, pushing him farther and farther into the black ocean surrounding him.
Everything was dark. The sky was lit only by the full moon and the tiny pinpricks of stars millions of miles away. It wasn’t the first time he had come here, challenging his own body on the old surfboard he’d had since childhood. But every time he returned, he went farther out. This time, he could no longer see the shoreline. His only company was the black water around him and the small waves that formed with each stroke. It was familiar, but it had been a long time since he had reached this place in his own mind, calm and peaceful. It was a strange feeling.
The portal had closed.
The creature was gone.
Fireworks were still exploding somewhere outside, distant and bright against the night sky, but inside the Starcourt Mall there was only the crackle of dying flames, the steady drip of water from broken pipes, and Max’s ragged breathing.
The ocean wasn’t the same. It wasn’t the small oasis his troubled mind had created for him to retreat to when real life became hell. The ocean was his own blood. It wasn’t the cold that once contrasted with California’s heat, it was warm, and it was pouring from his chest and mouth.
Pain was everywhere and nowhere at once. Air fought its way through his nostrils, each breath like trying to inhale fire. But it was too late. He was naked beneath the cold moonlight streaming through the shattered skylights, vulnerable under the glow. He blinked up at the ruined ceiling. Red and blue bursts from the fireworks outside flickered through the holes in the roof. For a second it looked like the sky itself was burning, being eaten away. He remembered thinking, only hours earlier, that the world was ending. Maybe it was.
Max was there.
She had crawled to him the moment the monster let him go. Her hands were on his face, his chest, his shoulders, frantic, shaking, trying to hold him together even as the thick, bright red blood slipped between her thin, pale fingers. He could hear her voice, small and broken, repeating his name like a prayer she already knew would not be answered.
It was funny, in a way. Billy had never been a religious boy, not even when his mother’s cord burned against his neck and reminded him of all the times she had made him kneel beside her, hands clasped together in his little bedroom at the back of the house. They had prayed together, begged God to protect them from Neil’s rage and heavy hand.
For years he had wondered if God had only answered his mother’s prayer the day she left him behind.
But now, lying on the blood-stained floor, he thought maybe God had simply led him here. To this moment. To a chance at redemption. To being useful to the girl who was clutching his hand and looking at him with so much pain.
“Billy… Billy, please… get up. Billy, please…”
He wanted to tell her it was okay. That he didn’t feel the pain anymore. That the thing that had been wearing his skin like a suit was finally gone. But his throat was full of blood and every breath felt like it was being dragged through wet cloth. All he managed was a weak, wet sound.
Her face came into focus above him. Tears had cut clean tracks through the dirt and soot on her cheeks. She looked so small. So scared. He hated that he was the reason for it.
“Sorry,” he whispered. Max leaned closer, her forehead almost touching his.
“Billy…” Her voice cracked. “Billy, just… just stay with me, okay? Please. You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna...”
He shook his head, barely. There was no “okay” left for him. He could feel his body growing heavier, colder, like he was sinking to the bottom of the ocean, the same way he used to when he tried to escape everything. But he had always swum back to the surface before. Not this time.
The fireworks kept exploding in the distance. Every blast vibrated through the floor and into his bones. The world was still celebrating while he died. Maybe that was how it was supposed to be all along.
He could still taste the memory Eleven had forced into him, the sunlight on the water, his mother’s laughter. It was fading now, too. He wanted to hold onto it a little longer. He wanted to tell Max that he remembered what it felt like to be a human before he became a monster. But there was no time.
His hand twitched. Max grabbed it at once, squeezing hard. Her fingers were warm. His were already going cold.
For a moment, something else cut through the fog closing in on his vision. Up on one of the upper levels of the ruined mall, he felt, or thought he felt, a gaze.
Harrington.
He was standing among the shadows and debris, watching from above. His silhouette was outlined by the flickering lights of the fireworks coming through the broken windows. There was no shout. No movement to come down. Just the silent presence of someone who had fought him so many times and was now watching the end without the power, or the will, to do anything about it.
For a second, Billy thought it was ironic. After everything, Steve Harrington was one of the last people to see him alive. And he didn’t come down. He didn’t scream Billy’s name. He just watched. A single tear rolled down his left cheek. His face always so goddamn pretty, showed signs that he had been hurt.
The pain in Billy’s chest flared hotter, like his own body was laughing at him. He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, the silhouette upstairs was gone from his sight. Maybe it had never been there at all. Maybe it was just another thing his mind was inventing while it shut down. He wished he could have held Steve, too. With something like tenderness. But he never had. And now he never would. This constant desire would die with him.
“Sorry,” he whispered again, turning his eyes back to Max. It was all he had left to give. Sorry for who he had been. Sorry that the only good thing he had ever done for her was die.
Max was crying openly now, shoulders shaking, forehead pressed to his.
“It’s okay,” she sobbed, even though they both knew it wasn’t. “It’s okay, Billy. I’m here. I’m right here.”
The fireworks lit up the mall again, bright white this time, like a flashbulb going off inside his skull. For one second everything was too clear. Then it darkened. The colors behind his eyes were bleeding into gray.
All that was left was the weight of Max’s hand in his and the distant, festive thunder outside that refused to acknowledge that something had ended.
His last coherent thought wasn’t about the monster. It wasn’t about Steve Harrington watching from above. It wasn’t even about the blood. It was quieter than that.
It really felt like the end.
Max’s voice was the last thing he heard. His name, repeated over and over, growing softer and more distant while the fireworks kept bursting somewhere above them both.
Then even the sound disappeared.
He could feel himself letting go. No more fighting. His body was sinking into the waters of his memory, into the sea he had always loved. Reality didn’t matter anymore. Inside, he was where he had always wanted to return. Home.
The pain was far away now.
And then he was gone.
"Pale in the flare light, the scared light cracks and disappears
And leads the scorched ones here
And everywhere no one cares, the fire is spreading
DESCRIPTION: Managing to get away from your past you stumble across a small town. Inside you meet the acquaintance of Billy the Kid
WORD COUNT: 2761
Next / Master List
WARNINGS: swearing, threat, guns
DISCLAIMERS
This is fiction. Please always talk to your partner before doing anything and make sure they are ok with what you are doing beforehand
It will not follow the timeline of the show. But I hope you enjoy.
Not been proof read
You start walking along the road. Hearing the steps of horse hooves on the ground. You turn, seeing a gentlemen riding along. A cart being pulled behind. You wave your arm out, causing him to slow down. "You ok miss?" you smile at the older gentlemen.
"I was wondering where you were driving to?"you reach itno a small purse on your waist, pulling out a couple of notes as he talks
"Just a small town a few miles away for work" You hold them out to him.
"Could you drive me there please?". He looks at the small wad of cash, at the gun around your waist, then at your face. Nodingg he scoots over on his cart. You smile, hitching your skirt up slightly as you get onto it.
Making small talk with the man as he drives you both there. You hop down from the cart as you arrive, waving at him before walking around the town. Hands clasped neatly behind your back as you wonder around.
You see a few kids playing. Men outside a bar drinking. Some more men smoking. Woman emptying a bucket of dirty water. Another woman walking with a load of laundry. You watch as a couple of men start to follow the woman with the laundry. You tilt your head slightly. Walking after them slowly, trying to make it obvious you werent following but wanting to be quick enough to prevent anything from happening.
WHen you get down the end you see the men have surrounded her. There were three men in total, one seemed to be the leader. Going over to her and going to stroke her cheek. You watch as she moves away from his touch. His deminear changing to a more aggressive one at the rejection. You speak loudly as you walk confidently.
"There you are!" you go overe to the woman. Linking an arm with hers "I was wondering where you had got to" the men back away slightly, eyeing you up to. You look at them, resting a hand near your waist. Not threatening them but making their eyes aware of the gun hanging from your belt. "Sorry to interfere gentlemen but I need to steal my dear friend from you" you smile at them, walking with the woman. Quickly.
Going out into the public space with her. SHe puts the washing down onto an outside table. "Thank you" she speaks softly
"Will you be ok now?" you ask. She wipes her forehead with the back of her hand. Nodding slightly as you nod and smile, going to walk off again. SHe grabs your wrist, dropping it quickly as you turn to face her again
"Whats youre name?"
"Hope" she nods. Smiling softly at you as she brings her hand up, resting it on her chest lightly before putting her hand back down
"Kathleen". You nod and smile, titling your head slightly
"Its been a pleasure meeting you Kathleen" you go to walk again but she taes a step towards you
"Ive not seen you around here before? Ive been here a while so I recognise the locals"
"I arrived not to long ago. I wont be staying long though, just passing through" she nods
"How long are you staying for?"
"About a week" she nods. Thinking for a moment.
"Why dont you stay with me and my family for the week?"
"Oh no I dont want to interfeir with your life"
"I insist. Goodness knows what wouldve happened if you werent back there. You saved me. Its the least I could do for you".
"So long as you're sure?" she nods and smiles softly at you
"We've got a spare bed. Its not the comfiest but its probably better then the beds the inns round here have" you chuckle slightly and nod
"Thank you ma'am" she smiles at you as you motion at the laundry "let me help you with that" you grab it from where she had popped it. She goes to protest but you shake your head. SHe sighs, looking at you before leading you to where it needs to go.
"I'll be finishing work within the hour if youd like to hang around until then? I could take you back to mine afterwards" you nod. Smiling at her as you go and order a drink from the bar beore sitting at a table.
The hour passes quickly. She walks with you back to her house. It was small but well kept. You look around as she goes over to the kitchen. STarting to prepare some food.
"Who do you live with?"
“My husband and two sons. They should be home soon" you nod. As if on cue the door opens. "Speaking off. These are my sons" you turn, seeing two youn boys walk in. The taller of the two takes off his hat and places it onto the table. He meets your eyes. You smile at him as he glances at the gun still around your waist.
"This is my eldest son Billy and then my youngest Joe". You put your hand out towards the older, a smile still on yur face
"My names Hope" he takes your hand, gently shaking it before dropping it. You could not read the look he was giving you.
"Shes new in town. Arrived this morning. i said that she can stay the week with us". He nods, eyes ramining on yours as he motions his head at your weapon
"Thats a nice gun"
"Thank you. It was a gift from my sister in law". The door opens once again, an older gentlemen walks through the door.
"This is my husband Henry" he shuts the door behind him. His eyes scanning over your body. In a very different way to which the son did. "Henry this is our visitor Hope. Shes our guest for the next week" His eyes coming back up to meet yours as Kathleen continues to speak "Dinner will be soon. Billy darling, could you grab out some plates" he nods. You walk over towards him
"Let me help". He grabs out some plates, handing them to you. You go over and start helping dish out the food onto the individual plates. You then sit around the table, Mr and Mrs Antrim sitting either end. The brothers sat next to each other as you sit oppoite Billy. Kathleen says grace before you all start to eat.
They ask you a few questions. Where have you travlled from? Have you travelled alone? Where are yu heading to? You answer their questions as truthfully as you can. Not wanting to tell them the full truth of why you had to run away from your family.
As the meal finishes and after the plates have been cleared and cleaned Kathleen shows you to your bed for the next few days. You sit onto it. Soon sleep catching up with you from the hectic few days - hell even weeks that youve had.
You wake up in the morning. Getting up and going outside. Resting against the outside of the house as you watch the street. Hearing the door open you turn, seeing Billy walk out. He half smiles at you which you return. Looking back at the people. He walks over to you
"What are you planning on doing toay then Miss?"
"Theres no need for the formalities. Please call me Hope" you smile at him as he leans against the wall next to you "I dont know. I dont really have any plans today. Just wonder around town I guess" he nods. You go to ask him what he was planning just as a blonde haired man appears riding a horse. He smiles at Billy before dismounting. His eyes meeting yours as a soft smiles comes over his face
"Whos your friend?"
"Hope" you answer "and you are?"
"Jesse" he smiles at you before turning his head back to Billy "you still up for some shooting Kid?" he nods, standing up straight you look between the two men
"WHat are you boys shooting?"
"We go down by the field and practice shooting" you nod, standing up straight as Billy goes to untether his horse
"You two have fun" you smile at them as they both mount their horses.
"You have fun to miss" Jesse says at you, snaking his tongue over his lips before riding off. Billy tilting his hat at you before following his friend.
You stay and help at Mrs Antrims home. Helping to do some of the chores around the house whilst herself and her husband are away at work. You end up helping out one of the maids, helping her do the washing or hanging up the clothes. You're in the kitchen, you're cleaning the dishes as shes drying and putting them away.
You hear the fron door open. Looking you see the older son walk in. Smiling at Billy before going to carry on. The woman speaks next to you in Spanish. Not unsual due to her ethnicity. What did surprise you though was when Billy spoke back to her in Spanish. You look at them both, a look of consufion on yoru face. She lets out a soft scoff as Billy smiles at her. Speaking some more in Spanish
"What are you talking about?" you half smile, confusion still in your eyes as you look at the girl. She chuckles, almost a giggle as she grabs the dry plates. Going over and placing them onto the shelf. Turning to Billy he smiles at you.
"She was asking as to why you were staying with us. So I was informing her" you nod
"What did you say?"
"That I dont know why you're in town but you'll be staying with us over the next few days" you nod again. Putting your hand in the sink as you take out the plug. Finsihgint eh dishes as the girl comes over and carries on drying.
"Are you going shooting again tomorrow?" he nods. Placing his hands on his gun belt as you trun to face him, tilting your head slightly as you meet his eyes.
"Yeah. I try and practice everyday"
"Would you be able to take me out to practie?" he chuckles slightly
"Why do you need to shoot?"
"Its a dangerous world we live in. A girl can never be to careful" he nods, smiling as he looks down.
"Yeah I can teach you to shoot" he looks back up at you "you've got your own weapon right?" you nod. "Good" he smiles. His eyes soft as they watch yours "I'm going to go and help ma. Ill see you soon" you nod, watching as he alks off.
You continue helping the girl arond the house. Then helping Kathleen make dinner when she gets back before heading to bed. You wake up early in the morning. Getting up you grab a ribbon. Tying up half of your hair . Two strandes falling either side, framing your face as the rest fall down your back, over your shoulders.
Going into the kitcehn you smile at Kathleen. Who is rushing to get out the house. Late for her shift. You wave goodbye to her as she rushes out the door. Billy comes in, smiling at you. "Good morning" you smile at him "Still up for shooting today?"
"Of course" you answer him. He relaxes his smile as he looks at you. "Will your friend be joining us?" he shakes his head.
"No. No Jesse has other things to do today" he holds your gaze as you nod. Pushing your lips tgether slightly "shall we go then, miss?" you chuckle slightly.
"I told you. Call me Hope" you smile, walking past him as you go to the front door. He follows you, going over to his horse. "How far is it to walk?"
"Do you not have a horse?" you shake your head. He nods slightly. Untethering and then mounting his horse. He holds the reins taught as he hods a hand out towards you. "You can ride with me". You take his hand, letting him help pull you up as you sit behind him. You rest your arms around him, resting over his stomach as he starts his horse in a soft trot.
You get to an empty field. A few fallen trees in the middle of it. He dismounts his horse, holding his hand out towards you as he helps you jump down. Going and tying his horse to a tree. “Lets see the gun you have” he stands about a metre in front of you. You take it out the gun holster, handing it to him. He looks at it, his eyes filling with a gleam as he examines the weapon. “This is a very nice gun” he spins it a couple of times in his hand, taking aim at the tree line. Getting the feel for the weapon. He nods in approval as he hands it back to you. Talking as he sets up the makeshift shooting rink.
"I assume you've shot before?". You shake your head as he looks at you in disbelief "you have one of the nicest guns ive seen yet you've never used it?"
"I dont know what else to tell you" he chuckles, walking back up to you as he motions at the various bottles and cans on the fallen trunk.
"Lets see what we're working with then". You take out your gun. Aiming it. You fire. Missing the targets completely. SOmehow managing to get a tree a ways back. You lower the gun.
"If I say that I was aiming for the tree then does it count?" you look at him. He lets out a soft laugh as he shakes his head. You take in a breath, aiming again. Squeezing the trigger. Once again hitting none of the targets. You throw your head back and let out a sigh of defeat. Causing him to laugh. "I give up. Its impossible" his lips turn slightly.
"Yeah?" you nod. He faces the items. Taking his gun out and taking aim. Shooting six times. Hitting five of the targets. Your mouth drops in awe as you watch. Turning your head to face him, he smirks as he looks at you. Putting his gun back in its holster.
"How the fuck did you do that?"
"Ive been practicing a long time" you scoff slightly
"No kidding" he smiles as a soft chuckle passes his lips
"Come on. Put your gun up". You do. Your body facing towards the items as he comes up behind you. Gently resting his hand over yours as you fee his breath on the shell of your ear. "Look at where your shooting. Take in a breath and aim. Exhale and pull the trigger". You do as he says. Drawing in a long breath, holding it as you aim at the item. Exhaling before pulling the trigger. It doesnt hit the items but itdoes hit the log the items are on.
"Good. Relax some more and aim a bit higher. Then repeat what you did". You take in a breath. Aiming, exhaling, then shooting. Hitting a glass you watch as it shatters. A smile comes over your face as he moves away from you. You turn to face him, grinning at him "Well done" he smiles. "Do you think you can hit the rest of the targets?"
"Just be impressed that I managed to hit one, ok?" he laughs. Watching you as you bring the gun up. Repeating the same four steps as to which he told you to do. Managing to hit two more tagrets. You bite your bottom lip as you try to hold back your glee. Turning to face him you meet his eyes.
"You're improving. Not that you could've gotten worse" you playfully push his shoulder
"SHut up" he chuckles. You reload your ammo before bringing the gun back up. This time managing to hit 4 out of 6. The both of you practice for about an hour. Taking it in turns to shoot. Once youve finished you put your gun away. He helps you get back up onto the horse. Holding onto him as he rides back home.
He jumps off. His hand coming out for you as he dismount. You gently stroke its neck as he ties the horse up "Same time again tomorrow?". He asks. Eyes looking at you as he rubs the horses nose. You nod.
"I look forward to it" you say. Going inside their home.
౨ৎ synopsis— an outlaw on borrowed time finds solace in the gravedigger's daughter. she's the flowers growing underneath the stones marking the place fit for his overdue remains.
౨ৎ warnings— talks of death and the dead, unresolved ending, billy being sad and lonesome, and a bunch of flowery language. 2.1k words
request ⊹ send me your thoughts
the grounds of the dead feel more like home than the adobe brick walls you've always known. rarely, does anyone else stop by to visit. your heart harbors no blame for their apprehension.. the graves attract the worst of beasts— and not the kinds such as coyotes and wolves— desperate men.
it's not uncommon for sacred remains to be unearthed times over by the forlorn. those with debts, twisted needs, and cruel intentions shovel away the sanctity of the decaying.
you've attended every burial and thus, every re-burial. sometimes the bodies are gone, never to be returned, but still the hole in the earth is filled and laid with stones. your father mutters prayers to the spirits that remain, wandering lonely without their last tie to the living.
he opts to leave as soon as possible afterward, but you never seem to find the will. just you alone with the dead.
all your time spent here, and yet, tonight is marked the first of another breathing figure standing above the graves just as you. his back faces you, legs long, hair umber, and clothes well-worn.
you're too slow to notice the pistol at his side before you make a noise, prompting him to turn to you. the wind is a quiet whistle but you only hear the thump of your frightened heart.
his pale blue eyes pierce through the fade of sunlight, sweeping across every inch of you in one swift motion before straightening, "i'll be gone soon. i apologize if i wasn't supposed to be up here this late."
there's a flash of recognition in your mind, a small sliver. the young man ahead of you is known to offer men up to early graves, a true laborer of the devil and his reapers.
you swallow hard, trying to find your voice amidst the surge of fear and curiosity, "who are you?" you manage to ask, your words barely audible.
the young man's lips curl into a faint smile, "names don't really matter in this place," he replies, a hint of amusement in his voice, "but you can call me william. or billy, if you prefer."
"billy?" the name ushers in recollection, sharp and eerie, down your spine, the weight of its significance settling heavily on your mind.
you've heard stories about him, whispered tales of his destructive deeds. a known gunslinger, killer, and outlaw alone with you. if he wanted, you could join the bodies below your soles and no one could relay the tale.
"what are you doing here?" you inquire cautiously, keeping a safe distance between yourself and him.
his eyes narrow slightly as he scans the graveyard, his gaze lingering on the weathered tombstones and wooden crosses, "i came seeking comfort," he answers cryptically, "the dead make for fine listeners."
the air grows heavy with tension as you contemplate his words. your instincts scream at you to flee, to escape from this unholy meeting. but something about him draws you in, a morbid curiosity that refuses to be ignored.
"why did you bring that?" you pause, hesitant, "the gun." nodding towards the weapon strapped to his side.
billy's expression shades for a moment before he shrugs nonchalantly, "protection," he states simply. "not t'smart to go without one. not here."
a chill runs down your spine as his words sink in. you've always known of the monsters traversing this land, but for some reason your mind refuses to place billy alongside them. you draw closer to him instead, "are you... someone i'd need protection from?" you venture to ask, your voice weak.
he chuckles softly, a sound that echoes eerily through the graveyard, "m'no different from those who wander these grounds," he says, his voice dripping with an unsettling mix of melancholy and dismay, "but i won't hurt you, sweetheart. m'just a wandering soul."
silence settles over the graveyard, broken only by the distant hoot of an owl. you study billy's face, trying to decipher the true nature behind his enigmatic words.
as the setting sun dances upon his features, you find yourself captivated by the depths of his eyes. they hold a sadness that no words could adequately convey, and yet, a glimmer of hope lingers within them. as if he carries the weight of the world upon his shoulders, but still possesses the strength to bear it.
the wind whispers through the graveyard, carrying with it the scents of flowers and freshly turned earth. you take a step closer, unable to resist the gravitational pull drawing you towards him. his presence is both intimidating and alluring, like a force of nature that you cannot help but be drawn to.
"do you have someone laid here?" you inquire softly, your voice tinged with curiosity.
billy's gaze meets yours, his eyes glimmering with a mixture of sorrow and longing, "no," he replies, his voice as gentle as a whisper on the breeze, "but i've been looking down at graves my whole life. suppose i know the dead better than the living now."
a gust of wind rustles through the trees, causing leaves to dance in the air. the atmosphere charged with a heat that seems to swelter between the two of you.
"tell me, stranger," billy says, his voice filled with an irregular vulnerability, "do you know who i am?"
you pause, the seriousness of his question sinking in, "there are posters around town," you reply honestly, "but i imagine you're just fine. probably just best left unprovoked."
a wistful smile flickers across billy's face. "yeah, something like that," he murmurs, his gaze fixed on a distant horizon. "i don't want to..." he trails off before cursing, "i won't hurt you, swear. you can come closer."
curiosity takes hold of you once more as you inch closer to him, "necessity? is that what led you down your path?" you inquire, your voice laced with compassion. he looks about your age, and you find it hard to believe he created this life for himself in earnest.
billy's eyes meet yours, filled with remorse, "desperation more like," he confesses, his words woven with regret, "i was born into a world that offered me no chances, no opportunities for redemption. so i became what they expected me to be— easier that way."
you can't help but feel a pang of sympathy as you observe the anguish etched onto his weathered face, "you seem quite soft of heart, despite it."
billy's lips twitch, a fleeting semblance of a smile before he turnes his gaze away from you. "appearances can be deceiving," he mutters, his voice tinged with bitterness. "you don't know the things i've done, the lives i've taken."
a heaviness settles in the air as silence drapes over both of you like a suffocating shroud. the wind is steadily dying down, leaving behind a bizarre calmness that mirrors the abyss of outlaws' past.
"but people can change," you offer softly, your words floating on a fragile hope, "no one is defined solely by their mistakes. not unless they want to be."
he scoffs, the sound dripping with contempt, "change is a luxury i can't afford, sweetheart" he replies, his voice carrying a bit of resignation, "some paths we tread on have no way out."
your heart aches at the defeat in his words, but a stubborn determination blossoms within you. you refuse to accept that someone stood beyond redemption, especially someone with a soul as bright as his.
"everyone deserves a chance at redemption," you press, voice infused with conviction, "no matter how far they've wandered their path."
billy's eyes flicker with an unfamiliar glimmer as he turns to face you once more, "you really believe that?" he asks, searching for sincerity.
"i do," you answer firmly, "sometimes it takes just one person to believe in us for us to find our way back."
he furrows his brows, "and how'd you figure that?"
you shrug, "my daddy digs all the graves. sometimes the entire town comes out for someone's burial, but most of the time it's just us." you sigh, taking a glance at him, "but even those with only our eyes to witness their descent get a prayer of hope. they may never know it, but the man who dug their grave offers redemption. a belief of good in the after."
"and what if i don't deserve that?" he asks, his voice laced with uncertainty.
you reach out and place a hand on his shoulder, "deserving or not, redemption isn't earned through perfection," you explain softly, “it's found in the willingness to confront our mistakes and strive for something better. all the small acts of kindness we give and a genuine desire to change."
he hums in contemplation before replying, "you're real smart, you know that? probably too smart to be wastin' your time on me."
you smile gently, your hand still resting on billy's shoulder, "maybe i am smart," you say, amusement in your tone, "but that doesn't mean i can't see the good in people." a breath, "and for wasting my time on you? i don't see it like that at all. you've given me no trouble."
billy looks at you, his eyes searching for any signs of deception. after a moment of silence, he sighs and shakes his head. "you don't know what you're getting yourself into," he warns. "i'm not the kind of man a nice girl should be redeeming."
"i'm not naïve," you reply, your voice steady and unwavering. "i won't play the part of the fool, but, i don't see fault in offering friendship."
billy's face softens as he listens to your words. it's as if a spark of hope ignites within him, one he thought had long been extinguished. "you remind me of someone," he murmurs, his voice tinged with nostalgia, "but they faded away a long time ago."
your grip on billy's shoulder tightens slightly as you lean in closer. "no one ever truly fades away," you say.
a twinge of sadness tugs at your heartstrings as you observe him. despite his reputation as an outlaw, there was something vulnerable about him that drew you in. something desperate for connection and understanding. you couldn't help but wonder what sort of troubles led him down a path so different from your own.
without thinking, you reach a hand towards him, offering a small gesture of comfort and camaraderie—or perhaps just to touch flesh to flesh after so much time among the remains.
he hesitates before slipping his own hand into your grasp, palms meeting under the fading light of dusk, "if i were a devout man i'd call you an angel," he murmurs softly, squeezing your hand gently.
you're glad that the moon is just starting to rise, casting a silvery glow over the graveyard. it makes him look almost… sacred, despite being a wanted man. you can't help but to feel safe in his presence.
your eyes drift to his hand in yours, suddenly nervous by your forward action. caught between pulling away and wondering what his touch feels like elsewhere—his skin rough, as expected, calloused from hours and hours of holding a gun.
but there's a warmth to his touch that surprises you, a sense of humanity that contradicts the tales you've heard about him. you look up to find him studying you, his eyes scanning every inch of yours while he holds onto your hand. the air thick with anticipation and something else, something unknown but suddenly intoxicating.
in this moment of solace, a large part of your mind is wrought with contemplation. the gunslinging stranger is tame as a loyal dog, but he also defies the boundaries of both your respective futures. as much as you want to hold onto him, reality begins to settle in and you reluctantly release your hold of him. the moon has risen higher in the sky, the air colder.
"i should go," billy says regretfully, cutting through the silence between you.
you nod, understanding that he needs to keep moving, "i hope to see you again, when things settle down."
it's a hopeful thing to wish for, to ask of him, but he gives you a grin, "you will. i have a bad habit of stickin' around where i'm not wanted."
as he turns to leave, you watch him go with a mess of sentiments swirling inside you. part of you wishes he could stay a little longer, but another part knows that it's for the best. his lifestyle is dangerous and unpredictable, and being around him would only put you in danger. still, you let that hopeful ember spark with the indelible nature of his words.
you take one last look at his retreating figure before turning back to the graves. finally time for you to say goodbye your solemn sanctary. as you pass stone markers and crosses, a final glance back at the graveyard where billy disappeared into the darkness and a demure prayer for the backsliders' gunman not to veer too far away.
—reblog and like if you enjoyed, let ur local writer know you like her work !
I was kind of inspired by a post of @officialjoekeery about pre-byergroveton but I wanted to have some slight Billy angst and some Christmas festivities so here’s my take on it.
Imagine instead of Jonathan getting together with Nancy, he ends up together with Steve after the whole demogorgon beat down and Billy comes riding into town, with his eyes set on Steve only to find out he’s already taken by the town creep. Billy can’t understand what’s so amazing about this guy until he ends up partnered with him an English project, forcing him to get to know Jonathan and to end up falling for him too.
Steve was all charm and wit and admittedly, looks while Jonathan was heart and understanding and kindness. Billy knew deep down he didn’t deserve anything as good as either of them so he was resigned to just lonely pining for the rest of his time at Hawkins before he moved back to California. To add to his pain and suffering, Jonathan took their tentative working relationship as a sign of friendship and Billy had a permanent spot at their table and he was often dragged into their shenanigans like shooting the shit by Lover’s Lake or smoking by the quarry.
As Billy fell deeper and seemingly hopelessly more in love with the two, Jonathan was growing more and more concerned over the bruises and scars Billy liked to hide. It didn’t make any sense, the frequency of his injuries and the stories he told and Jonathan knew what it was like to cover up for an abuser. Since Joyce was dating Hopper, he brought it up one dinner only to have his mom share the same suspicions, forcing Hopper to look into things.
Hopper’s uncanny ability to be at the right place at the right time paid off once again because the first time he patrolled past the house and snuck a glance through the windows, he saw Neil Hargrove with a belt in his hands and a tapestry of scars and wounds laid open on Billy Hargrove’s back. Hopper didn’t hesitate before rushing through the front door to arrest that son of a bitch who started raving on and on about beating respect and responsibility into his bastard of a son who should have died instead. Since Billy was still a minor, Hopper was able to get Neil away long enough for both Max and Billy to be legal adults and he was able to spin it into a premeditated murder case so he would be long gone.
While Neil was taken away in handcuffs, an ambulance had been sent to the scene and Billy Hargrove had been carted out and witnessed by the neighbors, bruised to hell and back, looking every inch the battered and bruised 16 year old that he was. It became the talk of the town over Thanksgiving weekend, especially since no one had expected that at all.
Joyce immediately went over to help Susan, knowing exactly what that woman had gone through and more than willing to help Susan figure out how to make things right with Billy since her inaction had inadvertently hurt Billy. Joyce had been the one to convince Susan to testify in Billy’s favor and to stop living in fear of Neil.
Jonathan had very quickly volunteered to get Billy’s homework and bring it to the hospital for the week or so that he was kept in the hospital. Jonathan had given Billy a safe space to confess about all of the horrors his father had put him through because Billy knew that Jonathan would understand. The slightly older and definitely taller boy had nothing but kind listening ears for Billy and a warm hand to hold onto to ground himself.
Of course, as soon as Steve heard, he was there with Jonathan, bringing all sorts of gifts for people recovering from injuries brought forth by an irrational guilt of not noticing how badly the younger boy had been hurting. Steve had silently resolved to protect the smaller boy the first time he saw him dwarfed in a hospital gown, asleep and for once looking his actual age.
When Billy had returned, he didn’t bother with showboating anymore because that had been to keep himself safe from being hurt in the obvious places unless he’d really messed up and gotten his dad really angry. Billy had returned a quiet shell of his former self, focused on just making it through high school complete with a broken wrist and ankle from them being stomped on by Neil Hargrove upon being arrested as well.
Jonathan and Steve were his perpetual guard dogs in protecting the smaller blond, not letting anyone badmouth him and helping him with his day to day things since he wasn’t able to drive for a while, leaving him reliant on Jonathan and Steve for rides because he was unable to walk the mile to school. The boys were more than happy to help Billy since he not only helped them with their classes but because he’d slowly carved out a place in their hearts as well.
Steve had been the one to broach the conversation about it, telling Jonathan in no nonsense terms that he loves Jonathan but that he also grew to love Billy as well. It had been a huge relief to find out that Jonathan had felt the same about the younger blond and they decided to see if Billy would be receptive of their advances so that they could all be together.
Max had been the first to threaten the two if they ever hurt her brother after she had noticed them starting to be more obvious with their flirting to their purposefully oblivious brother. Max had grown incredibly close to Billy in his hospitalization, finally learning the truth about his punishments for her actions and how Neil had pitted them against each other from the start. She had promised to be a better sister while Billy had promised to be a better brother in return. They’d spent afternoons playing like they hadn’t done since they left California and post-hospitalization, Max was Billy’s biggest crutch since she’d guessed about his feelings for Steve and Jonathan and he told her about how he felt he’d never be good enough for either of them.
It had taken a lot of begging and pleading for Max to let Steve and Jonathan anywhere near Billy as she monopolized his time after school asking for help with homework or in figuring out a new dish since Max was learning how to cook while Billy was injured. It had also taken a greater amount of begging, pleading and bribery before she helped them in getting together with her brother.
She’d been the one to give Billy some of Steve’s old sweaters in preparation for the winter after the two had noticed Billy didn’t have any proper winter clothes since they knew that Billy wouldn’t accept any charity from Steve but would happily accept a gift from his sister who’d won them in a bet. Neither Steve nor Jonathan were prepared for how absolutely adorable Billy looked dwarfed in Steve’s old oversized sweaters.
It also didn’t help that they were there to witness the blond’s reaction to seeing his first real snowfall and the absolute child-like wonder that crossed his face was permanently burned into their retinas. As days passed, they literally couldn’t stop themselves from falling deeper and deeper in love with the blond who was slowly learning to allow himself to just be himself and not have to be the man that Neil wanted him to be.
It all comes to a head when the boys trap Billy at a Christmas Party/Welcoming Party to the Mayfield-Hargrove’s new home, right beside the Byers. They’d connived with Max to place some mistletoe all over the house, allowing them to trap Billy under the mistletoe between them. After an initial kiss for both boys, Steve and Jonathan clarified their intentions with Billy, making the younger blond blush at the praise heaped on him and the care he felt radiating from the boys.
They end up spending most of the Christmas party in Billy’s room, not even doing anything too wild but just enjoying each other’s company and proving their feelings to the blond who still couldn’t believe that the boys he loved loved him back. Max had already told the rest of the people in the house about what was going on and everyone just felt happy that for once, things were going great for Billy Hargrove.
Summary: In which the best friend of his enemy turns out to be the only person who can break the heart of Hawkins new resident bad boy.
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Please Note: this story is inactive, but if you have any ideas on how to continue drop me a message!
PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE
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❝Suffering has been stronger than all other teaching, and has taught me to understand what your heart used to be. I have been bent and broken, but - I hope - into a better shape.❞ - Charles Dickens
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i. Queen Of Broken Hearts | Blackbear
ii. Paradise City | Guns N' Roses
iii. Mrs. Infamous | Palaye Royale
iv. Back In Black | AC/DC
v. Mad Woman | Taylor Swift
vi. Clean Cut American Kid | III Repute
vii. Misery Business | Paramore
viii. I Wanna Rock | Twisted Sister
ix. Mustang Kids | Zella Day
x. Black Magic | Slayer
xi. Worst | Waterparks
xii. Everybody Wants To Rule The World | Tears For Fears
Long-time no see! To make up for my time away, I have this little baby for ya. It’s longer than my other posts, but I definitely think it’s worth it of course, I could be a bit biased. All joking aside, I hope you guys enjoy! It starts with a little bit of a onesided crush from the reader on Steve, but don’t worry. Our favorite guy (who just looks so deliciously badass in this gif) is the main focus. Remember folks: consent is key, and it’s never the victim’s fault. Never.
Word Count: 4,653
Warnings: Dissociation, sexual assault, mentions of abuse, swearing, victim-blaming (self-blaming), panic attack, and I think that about covers it?
There were times where you didn’t quite feel like your world was real. It wasn’t like you were delusional. You just sort of... floated sometimes. Like you were there, and you were living your life, but it was through this misty haze that separated your consciousness from your body. You didn’t really know how to explain it, honestly. And it’s not like you could predict it or control it. Sometimes it would just last a few minutes. Sometimes it would go on for a week or two.
The first time it happened was at a party. You had gone with Carol and Nicole, your two best friends, with the promise that a certain pretty-haired boy would be there. At the time, you had a major crush on Steve Harrington. He was one of your close friends, and you were convinced you were in love with him. And Carol and Nicole used that little fact to drag you to the party— nevermind that he had recently been rumored to have started dating a certain Nancy Wheeler. When your constant efforts to flirt with him went unnoticed (or worse, laughed off), you decided to try and make him jealous. You approached a senior boy who had been eyeing you all night. One who was well-known for being sighed over in the cafeteria. One Carol and Nicole had checked out before, despite Tommy sometimes sitting right next to the former when it happened. You figured a little kissing wouldn’t hurt. You hadn’t kept track of how much alcohol you were drinking, and he talked you into another few shots. Before you knew it, you were drunk. Not drunk enough to go into a back bedroom with him, but definitely drunk enough for him to get more than a little handsy with you.
It was all fun and games until he started trying to grab your chest. You batted his hands away a few times before he started to get frustrated. You remember what he said. Sometimes, late at night when you can’t fall asleep, you still hear his rasp of “quit being such a fucking tease, it’s just your tits” brush across your ear and send chills down your neck. You stopped pushing his hands away after that. You thought maybe, just maybe, if you let him try then Steve would see you were open to fooling around. Maybe he’d look at you if he thought you were as fun as Carol or Nicole. You glanced over the nameless senior boy’s shoulder, searching for him. You saw him across the room, laughing with Tommy and Carol. Nicole excitedly pointed you out to the three of them, and your heart broke as you saw him raise his glass towards you. Egging you on. Not caring another boy was feeling you up for all to see.
It was then that hazy state washed over you for the first time, leaving you with this surreal sense of being that made you feel simultaneously detached from your body and more connected to it than you had ever been before. You barely registered his hands brushing across your body, touching you where no other guy had ventured before. Violating you. He felt up your chest, squeezed and groped your ass, and had just finished working his way to the apex of your thighs before you finally managed to feign a sudden wave of drunkenness that had you on the floor and finally safe from his greedy hands. You were left in that floaty, surreal headspace until Nicole called you the next afternoon. You finally learned his name. Allard Collins. She demanded to know everything that had happened between the two of you. She was disappointed to find out it hadn’t progressed much further than what she saw. You realized she thought you were lying when both she and Carol cornered you, asking you about it on Monday before class.
You felt the haze wash over you again as they tried to dig more information out of you. They kept bringing it up, giggling and talking about what a snag he was and “great catch” and “better give it to him again quick if you want him to stick around.” It wasn’t until Friday, when they heard he had gone home with another girl from the party a week before, that they believed you. But by that point, the damage was done. You had been in that floaty headspace all week, and you weren’t sure you were ever going to come back down to earth again.
You slowly stopped hanging out with them, and slowly the floating stopped. You found some new friends, started to get close to Nancy and Barb, and began separating yourself more and more from the incident. You ignored the voice in your head that hissed it’s your fault and you deserved it. You got over your infatuation with Steve, swearing men in general off after a while. You’d still find yourself in that floaty space every once in a while, but you learned to manage it. You could still function just fine and go about your daily business. You just weren’t... connected. But that was okay. Honestly, sometimes it was nice.
Every time, you were aware it was happening. And there was some small voice that told you it was bad and wrong and shouldn’t feel as... peaceful as it did. But you never had to feel anything when you were there. You didn’t have to feel the pain or the panic or the anxiety that would set in when a guy looked at you funny or a girl would talk about a particularly steamy makeout session. You didn’t have nightmares when you were in that floaty space. You didn’t freak out when you went on dates and a boy tried to kiss you if you were floating. (You had tried to stay grounded once on a date, the first guy after the party, and it ended terribly when he tried to kiss you after walking you back to your door. You almost had a panic attack.) When Barb went missing, you weren’t even fazed. You had already been floating for almost a full week by that point, withdrawing from her and Nancy as the latter started dating Steve. That was the longest time you lived in that hazy existence. It was another week before you finally came crashing back down.
When you crashed, you crashed hard. Everything would hit you, all at once, and you’d often wind up having panic attacks. Not that anyone but your mom knew. You kept it hidden from everyone you could, only turning to her because you didn’t know who else to turn to. Even she didn’t know the real reason they started. You had cited school and bullying, and she had accepted those answers without hesitation. She was content to offer whatever help she could, letting you stay home after your hazy periods when you would crash and be so anxious you got physically sick. She hoped with enough love, it might go away.
You got used to this new reality, drifting along and floating sometimes while being painfully grounded at others. You were content with it, practically even happy. You were fine with only experiencing your love life through a clouded sense of touch until he came roaring into town.
The first time you saw him— the week of Halloween, 1984— he walked into your math class. It was Monday. You were still floating from a date you had gone on the Saturday before. You were floating all through class as he walked in the door, the teacher directed him to take an empty seat, and he scanned the room. You were floating as he smirked, spotting the empty desk behind you. You were floating, barely registering it as he sauntered down your aisle and practically collapsed in the desk behind you. You were floating for the next few minutes, scribbling notes down and paying the new kid no mind (unlike the rest of the girls in class). It wasn’t until he tapped your shoulder that you stopped floating.
You blinked, registering the sudden intrusion into your personal space, and stiffened. A year of flinching every time someone unexpectedly invaded your space and having to make up an excuse as to why had quickly trained you not to draw attention. You ever so carefully leaned away from his finger, trying not to let the panic overwhelm you, as you turned to face him. You turned to meet the prettiest blue eyes you had ever seen, a wild head of blond curls, a sun-kissed face, and a very disarming smirk looking up at you from where his head was resting on his hand.
“You wouldn’t happen to have a pencil I could borrow, would ya doll?” His raspy voice seemed to hum the request. Without missing a beat, you offered him the one in your hand. He sent you a toothy smile and a wink that made your heart stop. You mechanically turned back to face the front, reached down to your backpack, and grabbed a new one as if nothing else had happened. It wasn’t until you were four lines of notes down the page that you realized he hadn’t had a notepad in front of him. Or a binder. Or any paper at all really. You glanced back to see him still watching you, drumming your pencil against his desk without a scrap of paper in sight. He smirked again when he caught you peeking. You whipped back to the front and refused to give him the satisfaction of catching you glancing back at him again.
It wasn’t until the bell rang, signaling the end of class that he caught your attention again.
“Mind if I hang onto this?” You almost shrieked, jolting forward in your seat and practically grabbing the edge of your desk. His voice in your ear and the unexpected presence at your back had sent your stomach into summersaults and your heart flying. It only took you a millisecond to gather your wits, but it seemed like that was enough to make Billy curious. You turned around to face him, and you were quickly caught off guard. He wasn’t smirking in victory at catching you off guard, like you were half-expecting. Nor was he sending you another flirtatious grin. Instead, he was watching you with a hint of... what looked like confusion. Maybe even suspicion? Surprise?
“Hang onto what?” You hated how breathless you sounded. You knew he clocked it too, from the assessing look in his eyes. It was only there for a moment before he slid right back into that easy, flirtatious persona again. But you had seen it. And you weren’t sure what to do.
“The pencil.” He raised his eyebrow as if it were the most obvious thing. You supposed it was. You just weren’t quite fully firing yet. “After all, you never know when you might need to give a hot chick your number.” You could see his mind working behind the wink he sent you.
You sent him a tight smile, still a little off-guard and not sure how to feel about his blatant flirting. “Keep it. Not that there are many ‘hot chicks’ in Hawkins. At least, not to what I’m guessing are your standards.”
“Not if they’re trying to compete with you.” Oh, he was smooth. You’d give him that. “What’s your name, sweet cheeks?”
“Y/N. You are?”
“The man of your dreams. But you can call me Billy.” That time, you rolled your eyes. You started gathering your stuff as people began filtering out the door and into the hallway.
“Well Billy, keep the pencil. Good luck finding those hot chicks.” You were the last two in the class, and you were hoping to get away with the last word. You should’ve known better.
“I don’t need luck. I already found one!”
You were halfway through the next class before you realized you hadn’t had a panic attack after crashing down to earth from your floating headspace. It was the end of the day before you realized it was the first time in almost three months you had crashed without having a panic attack.
Billy started to become an interesting factor in your life. He was in a decent number of your classes (which surprised you, since you didn’t exactly take it easy in school and he didn’t seem the type to really try). He stopped surprising you with little touches and invading your personal space after a few more attempts at it left you alert and uneasy around him. (You were half-convinced he was looking for something with these little touches. You weren’t sure what though.) Instead, Billy found other ways to flirt with you.
He was still just as verbally flirtatious towards you as he was other girls, but he relied more on eye contact and expressions with you. With other girls, it would be a causal touch here, or pinning them against the lockers there. But you always got the searching looks, the mischievous smiles, the lingering glances that lingered just a little too long. Honestly, he’d flirt with you more than he would them too. Sometimes he’d even stop flirting with one of them when you walked by in the hallway, just to make prolonged eye contact with you or send a little greeting your way. You’d long since gotten used to this little game and started playfully rejecting him or teasing him for his lines. You saw the little thrill in his eyes every time you snarked back. And you enjoyed the little moments with him too.
The stolen glances and fleeting words grounded you. The time you spent floating around slowly became shorter and far less frequent. Before you knew it, you had been grounded for a week. It was like Billy could see the hazy mist wash over your eyes, and he was always there with some sort of line to pull you back down to earth in the most charming way. You looked forward to your little chats with him. You heard the rumors about him getting into fights, and you didn’t doubt he had some anger issues. You could feel it, bubbling under the surface, and you could see it in his open defiance of authority in class. But you saw the gentle way he handled you, as if he knew without asking that you had been hurt. As if he knew the kind of interactions you needed to feel safe. He understood your boundaries in a way nobody else seemed to, and that drew you to him despite everything else. But you refused to do anything more than flirt.
Flirting was fun. Flirting was easy. Flirting was something he did with every girl in Hawkins, something that meant you could stay off of the radars of your ex-friends. Pursuing anything else meant he’d inevitably want to spend time with you outside of school. Pursuing anything else would put you right back in line with Tommy and Carol. And you didn’t want to go back there. You weren’t sure you’d ever come back down if you did. So instead you kept him at arm’s length, content to stay grounded in his stolen glances and flirty smiles whilst pretending to ignore his roving eye and the whispers of his conquests.
It stayed like that through the end of October, into November and December. And every time Billy would take even a moment’s break from his girl of the week to flirt with you, you counted it as a tiny victory. Winter break slowly crept in, and Tina’s annual New Year’s Eve party was suddenly marking the end of break. In true Tina Rager fashion, the girl had procured all the alcohol Hawkins High’s student body could drink and then some. The lawn was crawling with your classmates as you walked up to the house, blaring the biggest hits of the past year from Tina’s brand new sound system. It paid to have parents who were loaded.
You slowly wandered into the house, unsure of how to approach the rager. It had been almost two years since the last time you went to a party like this. You felt the haze start to creep in, clouding your mind before you had even taken a sip of alcohol. You weren’t even really sure why you were here. You had ignored your friends the year before when they tried to drag you to Tina’s party, so you had surprised both them and yourself when you agreed to go this year. All you could think of was a red shirt, left open down to his navel, a leather jacket, and breathtaking blue eyes when you agreed. You had even dolled yourself up, wearing a tight skirt and curling your hair for the occasion. You hadn’t recognized yourself when you stepped out of the house earlier that evening, and now you were stepping into another world.
Your friends dashed ahead of you, making beelines for either the dance floor or the liquor counter. Your eyes tried to scan the room, but you couldn’t find his blond mullet anywhere. The sound of cheers over the music reached your ears, and you followed them to the back door. There, you found a whole crowd of people surrounding what looked like two guys doing keg stands. Or at least, that was your best guess from the fringes of the very dense crowd. You could only guess it was Steve and Billy, facing off yet again. You turned your back on the jeers and the shouts of the rowdy group of teenagers, wandering through the sweat-filled and musty living room to the kitchen. You didn’t pay attention as you grabbed a bottle of what looked like whiskey and the bottle of coke and just poured. You didn’t keep track of how much of each was in your cup. You simply capped the bottles and took a swig, hoping the alcohol would help settle the nervous feeling in your stomach and the voice at the back of your head whispering you shouldn’t be here.
One of your friends found you with half your cup gone and dragged you on to the dance floor. You swayed there with the gyrating bodies, slowly letting the haze settle over you as unfamiliar hands and bodies brushed against yours. It had been a while since you had felt its familiar presence, but this time it felt wrong. It didn’t hold the same peace and comfort it once had. Now, it was confining. Constricting. But you weren’t sure how to escape it. All you could do was sway and down your drink until suddenly it was gone. As the bodies around pressed closer, the haze thickened. You felt a pair of hands grab your hips, pulling you against a teenage boy (that was very clear by the bulge pressing against your ass). You felt the familiar detachment settle in as the hands started to roam from your hips, up your body, and that heart-stopping dread took root in your core. You closed your eyes, hoping that would help, knowing it wouldn’t. You tried to breathe through your nose, telling yourself to just get through it. You felt it flow into every limb, as warm as the bodies around you, and the mist in your head thickened until it was practically a foggy soup. You were drowning in the familiar haze until suddenly the body against you was ripped away.
You didn’t know what was happening at first. You didn’t register the shouting, the cheering, and the shrieking until you had turned around to see Billy pummeling some boy you had never seen before. You watched blankly as Billy released the shirt of the boy he was beating, causing his new punching bag to drop to the floor. Clearly unable to support himself. Billy stepped back, reeling up for a kick, when his clear blue eyes flickered to yours. And that’s when you knew.
The horror that accompanied the realization swept over your body, and you tore your gaze from the California boy to the asshole at his feet. The asshole whose hands had been all over you. Who you had let feel you up, grope you, violate you yet again without doing a single thing to stop it. You felt the panic begin to set in. Your head began to spin with the information coming in all at once until you weren’t sure which way was up. You felt a hand grasp your arm, and you tried to struggle against it. You really did. But as your panic attack began, you had little strength left to fight whoever was leading you into the yard, away from the mass of people that had gathered at the sight of the fight. It wasn’t until you were seated in a car that you finally heard him.
“Breathe, y/n,” Billy’s voice rumbled through the small space. “Breathe. It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe. That asshole isn’t gonna touch you again.” Your frightened eyes darted over to his face, and you tried to calm down. You really did. But you could still feel both sets of hands— Allard’s and the nameless boy from the party— roving your body. The leather jacket he had draped around your body to keep you warm left you feeling suffocated and stifled. You felt nausea grip your stomach, and the waves of heat crashed over your body. You threw yourself out of Billy’s car and onto the snowy ground, crawling a few feet away before vomiting up the liquor you had downed. You heard a car door slam and someone cursing as you began to hyperventilate on your hands and knees, tears streaming down your face and landing in the snow. You didn’t lift your head as boots stepped between you and your vomit, and you kept your eyes glued to the ground as the owner squatting in front of you.
“You’re safe, princess,” Billy tried to soothe you. Some sardonic voice in the very back of your head, removed from the panic that gripped your entire being, laughed at the pet name. He’s really pulling out all the stops, huh? “No one’s gonna hurt you while I’m here. Come on, breathe with me.” He set a slow rhythm. You tried to match it, finally lifting your eyes to him. You continued to sob and your breaths were uneven, leaving your lungs feeling raw in this slow cadence he set. Ever so slowly, your breaths started to even out. The waves of heat stopped washing over your body. The nausea holding your stomach in an iron-vice slowly relinquished its grip.
“There we go. That’s better. Now, how about getting into my Camaro before I freeze my balls off?” You saw the concern in his eyes, knowing his crass words were his way of trying to bluster through the tenderness he showed. You nodded, letting him help you get back in his car. He turned it on, blasting the heat. You finally realized how numb the cold had left you as your skin began to prick from the hot air thawing you out. The two of you sat in silence, neither daring to admit you were in new territory.
He knew. There was no way he didn’t. Most people didn’t realize it, but Billy was smart. He had to have picked up on your aversion to touch, your dissociative episodes, your tendency to space out when guys got too close. You might’ve been in denial for a long time about it, but you knew somewhere deep down that was why he had stopped leaning into you, touching you, and flirting with you like he did the others. And after tonight, you were sure he’d put together it had something to do with guys touching you. That same voice in the back of your head started hissing at you. He knows you’re damaged. He doesn’t want you anymore. Maybe he never did. But he certainly doesn’t now after seeing the mess you are. Not after seeing how easily you give it up to other guys. Nobody wants you. Nobody worth it anyways.
“You don’t have to tell me shit.” His voice was quiet, but it still felt like it cracked through the interior of his car. “Your call. But you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. Just know, no other jackass is gonna lay a fucking hand on you. Not when I’m around. Not while you’re my girl.”
Your eyes snapped over to him, and you finally let yourself look at him for the first time that night. You could see the rage still flooding his veins, still itching to be released. You could see the fury, directed not at you but the boy who had put his hands on you. You saw a need to and to defend, a side you had never seen directed your way before. You saw an affection that went past the surface-level flirting you had been doing for months. You saw a desire to claim you, to declare you his, and it sent thrills down your spine. And as his eyes flitted to yours, nervous as you let the silence sit after his declaration, you saw something that chilled you to the core.
You saw an understanding deep in Billy Hargrove’s eyes. You saw an understanding of the fear, the sense of defeat, the panic, the dread, and the helplessness that had washed over you. You saw something in his eyes that told you he was no stranger to someone else laying their hands on him and, while you were pretty sure it wasn’t in the same way you experienced it, it wasn’t any less violating. You saw something broken in him— the same thing you knew was broken in your eyes— and your heart aches for him. As he let you see into his soul with that single glance, you came to a decision. You wouldn’t ask why he seemed to understand so perfectly. You wouldn’t pry, just like he wasn’t prying with you. Instead, you would accept his protection and his affection. You would trust that he would tell you his trauma and pain when he was ready, just as you would tell him yours. And until then, you’d learn to help each other.
“Your girl, huh Hargrove?” Your voice rasped out, not quite full after the shouting from the party and the vomit in the snow. You cleared your voice, hoping it would help. “That’s quite a claim to stake. And I don’t know if you’ve picked up on it, but I’m a bit of a handful here.” You sent him an uneasy smile, hoping he’d catch your hint and let the events of the night go without any explanation.
A searching gaze as he scanned your face was the only response you got at first. When he saw you were okay, that you would manage for now, he let the worry slide for a mischievous (if not a little cautious) glint in his eye. “Oh sweetheart,” he drawled in response. He playfully let his eyes scan over your body, checking in to make sure it was okay before letting his gaze linger a little longer on your chest. “I’ve noticed. And let me say, I can’t wait to get a hand full.”
The lecherous wink he sent your way really sealed the deal as you felt a giggle bubble up. He was trying to act as if nothing had changed, as if it were business as usual, and you appreciated that more than he could ever know. He wasn’t perfect. And neither were you. You were both broken, but a small part of you wondered if just maybe you were broken in compatible ways. You got the feeling he wasn’t the only one in this car who helped the other feel a little more grounded.
