just friends, right? (Billy Hargrove x reader)
maybe the only way to get over your ex is to move on. and a certain lifeguard is happy to help. some angst, some fluff, fluffy ending. im weak for soft!billy ok, leave me alone
requested- no, but they are open
warnings- bad language, mentions of sex, smoking, angst, self hate
It had been a while since your breakup, yet the photos were still pasted all over your room. He would have definitely removed all of the photos he had put up. Ever the photographer, Jonathan Byers would’ve filled his life with images of the beautiful Nancy Wheeler, leaving you behind in memories and his dark room.
You understood why he chose her. Who wouldn’t? King Steve did, and any other boy at Hawkins shitty high probably would too. Beautiful, smart, kind, she had everything you thought you didn’t. Including Jonathan.
You remember when you lost him. And it still hurts as much now as it did then.
He was sat across from you in the library as you did your psych homework, an unreadable look on his face. His camera abandoned on the table told you something was wrong. There hadn’t been a study session where he didn’t photograph you, claiming sweetly ‘you always look so perfect’ before breaking eye contact with a blush.
But now he wouldn’t meet your eyes, despite how hard you tried. Abandoning the work in front of you, and reaching across the table to cup Jonathan’s jaw, your heart fell when he pulled away.
“Jon, baby, what’s wrong?” you asked, worried about what he might say. Not once in your two and a half years together had he pulled away from your touch. He seemed to think for a moment, eyes downcast, before beginning to speak in a tone that had your eyes welling up.
“I’m sorry Y/N. I really am.” He still wouldn’t meet your eye. You didn’t know if you wanted to hear what he had to say.
“A-about what?” He finally met your eyes, and that’s when you knew it was over.
“I don’t want to be with you anymore. I don’t feel the same way I used to. I am truly sorry.”
And with that, Jonathan Byers walked out of the library and out of your life.
You found out later, from Steve Harrington of all people, that Jonathan had left you because he kissed Nancy at a party. Because he was in love with her, not you. The mutual loss of your relationships brought you and Steve together, and he was your best friend and protector all this time later.
But Steve couldn’t protect you from Billy Hargrove. He had swept into your life in the summer, as you both worked dull days at Hawkins pool, offering a cigarette and a ride home.
You soon came to learn the Hargrove boy was not all he seemed to be. Rough and ready to fight sure, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t trustworthy. Angry, unstable and a player, yes, yes and no. His string of conquests was left behind in the school year, not that you knew the reason was that he had fallen for you, hard.
To him, you were perfect, bright and beautiful, if a little broken. Intelligent, and honest, he trusted you more than anyone else. You were the one good thing about the godforsaken town. So, Billy knew he couldn’t have you, couldn’t ruin that innocence and happiness. You had Harrington, anyway. And as much as Billy despised the boy, he had to agree that he made you happy.
To you, Billy was unreachable. Too distant and too dark. Always after the next high, be it his next pack of Marlboro’s, his next late-night joyride around the sleepy town, his next girl to play with and dump. Anyway, you weren’t his type. Not pretty enough, not easy enough.
Friends, you unknowingly agreed, not realizing what you could’ve had.
Just friends, that’s all you and Billy were, you thought, tucked away from the monsters lurking the dark streets. All you’d ever be. You could still taste the cigarette you’d shared as you left the pool, still smell the musky interior of his precious Camaro.
Billy could still taste your cherry lip balm that had lingered on the end of his cigarette, still smell your floral shampoo from when you hugged him goodbye. But you were Steve’s, and as long as Steve made you happy, he’d put up with it. As long as you were happy.
You were pressed under someone, their mouth on your neck, your hands in his hair. Assuming this was another memory of Jonathan, you weren’t prepared for the sparkling blue eyes that met yours, the smirk that graced Billy’s lips.
Gasping at the sensation of his lips on your skin as he moved lower, nipping and sucking your skin, marking you as his, you shook as he pulled down your underwear.
He... You were startled out of your daydream by a calloused hand on your bare thigh. Jumping, your gaze guiltily met Billy’s. “We’re here darlin’. What’s got that pretty little head of yours all wound up?” He smiled, peering into your eyes, worry shining evidently on his face. You may have never been able to read Jonathan, but Billy was like an open book. Oh god how you loved this boy, to the point of daydreaming about him. But he didn’t know, and most certainly didn’t want you. Just Like Jonathan didn’t. You could feel yourself beginning to spiral, the happiness from your daydream fading away. “Is it Harrington? What’d he do now? I swear I’ll..” You cut off the blond boy, smiling lightly at the anger in his words.
“No, it’s not Steve. It’s...” You couldn’t find the words to say that you needed him. That you loved him.
“Is it Byers? Are you still caught up on that freak show?” Despite his harsh wording, there was genuine concern in Billy’s voice.
“No, yes, no. It is about Jonathan and it isn’t at the same time.” He just nodded, gently squeezing your thigh. “He was my first everything. First boyfriend, first kiss, first...well yeah.” Billy’s face fell at the thought of you being intimate with Byers. “Steve has been there for me,” Billy’s expression darkened, “But he’s just a friend. I need something more. With someone new. Because I thought Jonathan was the love of my life.” You didn’t even realise you were crying until Billy reached out to wipe away your tears. “And he threw me away like nothing. And now I don’t think anyone wants me.” Billy wanted to scream that he wanted you, that he needed you. But the words got caught in his throat as you let out a strangled sob. “I don’t understand what I did wrong. Am I really that bad that he fell out of love with me? How do I find someone else, when they will just do the same.” With that you broke down, sitting in the front seat of a blue Camaro.
At least twenty minutes passed until your sobs subsided, Billy’s lifeguard vest soaked with tears and smeared with mascara. He had been whispering reassurances to you, gently smoothing his hand over your hair. But when you looked up at him, eyes shining with unshed tears, he could've swore he felt his heart break. He promised there and then to never make you cry or feel like this, he could never bear to see you like this again.
“B-billy,” you murmured, “Am I really that unlovable?” You asked the boy, a lone tear sliding down your face.
You were shocked when he kissed the tear away, before continuing to place gentle kisses all over your face. When he finally stopped, he met your eyes. “Sweetheart, trust me, you’re not unlovable. Not to me. To me, you’re perfect.”
And when he pressed his lips against yours, he was perfect too.
