- Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader
• Angst
• MAIN-MASTER-LIST
Warnings: mentions of character death, grief, teen pregnancy
Synopsis: After not receiving child support for three months, you begin to grow worried. Billy may have been an arsehole and though you two had long fell out of love, you knew he still loved his son. So, with a two year old on your hip and a rusty rental car you made your way to Hawkins only to be greeted by the cold hands of grief.
Or
Y/n is faced with life altering news and has to face it straight on.
A/n: Dad Billy!! Memento Mortuorum means: 'remember the dead people', serves as a call to honour those who have died. This has been swimming around in my head for a long time as I've started re watching Stranger Things. I've also been thinking about writing a Steve Harrington piece, so let me know if you'd like to see that. There may possibly be inconsistencies with the timeline so please let me know if there is any.
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Despite the lack of sun sweat trickled down your back as you huffed through your parted lips. James sat in the back, the car seat jostling slightly with the rickety old car as you drove along the forest edged road – he softly cooed at one of his toys and you smiled at him through the rear view. His hair was all you, but everything else about him, well that, that was all the infamous Billy Hargrove. Hawkins was a long way from California, but you were worried now, admittedly. At first you had been agitated, the last envelope with a small letter for your son and some cash came early this year, it had taken forever to arrive, but you had thought nothing of it till...
California had been quiet that day, a normal Monday morning, you had fed James, washed up, reminded your mum that she was going to look after your little boy while you were at work, but then... Then the news was quick to break any normalcy, ‘Fire at Hawkin’s Mall – StarCourt, Will there be any normal days for this small town in Indiana, but more on that later...” it was background noise, nothing to worry about initially and you were already running close to being late for the small part-time job you worked at the VHS store, so you had turned off the TV kissed James goodbye and left. Yet for weeks no word, no nothing. No letters, no money, no phone call. Just, nothing. It’s been three months now and the years stretching onto its last legs. It grew colder as the months grew quieter, it was especially odd when he hadn’t sent a birthday card for James and now you were worried.
So naturally, you packed your bags, booked a flight to Indiana, and here you were driving through Hawkins with only a shitty handwritten address on a crumpled envelop - ‘4819 Cherry Lane’. God, you hoped it was Billy who opened the door and not his shit stain of a father, you thought mindlessly as you chewed on your bottom lip while the rusty bucket called a car veered left into the turning,, the forest melting into lines of stores and old houses. They slowly grew smaller; you eyed the houses and felt the pang of jealousy as it veered its ugly head, “lucky bastards,” you sneered as you carried on down the. roads - your body aching at the seemingly never-ending roads. Children laughed and smiled as their parents pushed them on swing sets and chased them around the bright green yards.
Eventually, the road sign you’d been scouring for popped into view and you turned down the road careful not to hit anything. “4810...4812...4816,” you mouthed quietly to yourself and brushed the hair from your eyes as the gust of wind pouring from the window swiped across with its cold fingers. “4819,” you sighed in relief and softly pulled into the driveway, the old rental rocking to a rickety stop. Your wrist popped as you twisted the key and removed it from the ignition, quickly you stepped out of the car stretching. You slammed the door shut and began to get James out of the car, fast as to not let him kick up the usual fuss. His big eyes stared up at you, runny nose from the cold dusted with freckles. Quickly, you unclipped the car seat buckle from around him and picked him up by the arm pits, placing him on your hip, grabbing the bear that’d fallen to the floor from the movement and kicked the door shut.
Gently, you placed him on the tire-marked-grass, kneeling to reach his height. “Okay, baby?” you asked and zipped his little blue jacket up to his chin, he nodded and took the stuffed bear from your hand hugging it to his chest. You stood and grabbed his hand in yours leading him to the door.
The paint was chipped and one of the numbers were hanging on for dear life, you were scared to knock in case it would fall off. You rapped your knuckles on the door once, twice, hand raised ready to knock again, but it swung open. Framed by the doorway stood the small ginger girl you had only really spoken to a handful of times and only in passing, “Max?” you asked. Her mouth was open and eyes wide as she stared up at you. For a moment neither of you moved, practically daring the other to break eye contact. Then, she did, her eyes flicked down to look at the little boy stood by your side, hand still clasped in yours, though now he hid behind your legs.
“I- Y/n, I,” she started.
“Look I’m here for Billy. I haven’t heard from him for a while, longer than usual and well,” you paused and picked the small boy up letting him rest his on your shoulder, “I was getting worried,” you said, chewing anxiously on the inside of your cheek. Max still stood in the way of your eye line to see into the room despite your attempts to peek behind him. “So? Where is he?”
“Y/n... I. We need to talk come in,” she said. She sounded breathless, scared. Her eyebrows were scrunched and nose crinkled as she pulled the door open and let you in.
You sat on the sofa, the clock ticking in the background making your nerves spike to another level as your leg bounced and you watched as James sat cooing at his bear on the floor in front of you. Max still wasn’t talking, every time it seemed as though she’d start no words would come out. Her leg bounced in time with yours as she played with her fingers in her lap. Moving boxes were scattered around some full, some empty, some with lids on them, some taped shut. “Are you moving?” you asked, quiet.
“What?” the red headed girl jumped, “Yea, I mean yes, yes, we are, my mum and I,” she muttered, eyes never really meeting yours.
“Where’s Neil?”
“He left.” You nodded slowly at her answer.
“Right,” you drawled, “so where’s Billy?”
“That’s the thing Y/n,” she stuttered and swallowed so loud you could hear it, “he’s...gone.”
You almost laughed, “Gone. Gone where? This isn’t some silly game Max.”
“No. He’s gone. He’s gone Y/n,” she paused, taking a shaky breath, “he...he uh. He died.”
“What,” a laugh punched out of you. Short. Quick. Disbelieving.
“He died in the mall fire three months ago,” she said, voice breaking.
Your mouth opened then closed. Open. Close. Open. Close. Open. Close. Open. Then you laughed. It burned your throat and made yourself jump. Tears burning your eyes. You rose to your feet and spun around, finger pointed at the sallow looking girl. “This. This is all some sort of sick joke,” you paused, your hands tangling in your hair, “isn’t it. Isn’t it!” Max wept quietly on the old sofa head in hands. She shook her head.
The air left your lungs.
“I-” you started, but the lump in your throat grew too firm for words to pass through. Your lip trembled to keep the tears from spilling over. “He- he’s here. He’s here. I -. I know he is,” you bolted down the short hall pushing the doors open, some small part of your hoping, wishing he was there, hiding, playing some stupid, idiotic prank. I mean he never wanted a kid in the first place, said his genes were bad – cursed – something wicked. Yet there he was only sixteen cradling a swaddled newborn baby boy in a sterile hospital room while you lie there on the bed in an itchy hospital gown watching him. Your heart had melted then, but now, now it was trying to claw itself from your chest. You gasped for air as you pushed the final door open.
Dust swirled in the air. The room was practically untouched. Your body froze. Swallowing, you stepped into the too quiet room. You spun around the room taking it all in. The ashtray on the chest of draws, the stupid poster of a girl in a bikini, the red sheet covering the window, the broken shelves. Defeated, you sat on the spring mattress. You didn’t move, not when you could hear the rushing footsteps. Or the tear-stained-cheeked girl emerged into the room. “He’s gone?” you asked, voice crackling. Max just nodded, shoulders slumped, head down as she toed at the carpet. “He’s gone,” you whispered to yourself. The young girl came to sit next to you, the bed dipping slightly at the added weight. Breathing deeply through your nose for a minute you rubbed at your forehead with shaky fingers.
Knees wobbly and body trembling you stood. You ran your fingertips over the wooden top of the drawers. “We haven’t gone through it yet. Me and my mum I mean. Neil all but ransacked it. I think the drawers still have stuff in it though, you can take some stuff with you back to California, if, I mean if you’d like,” Max remarked feebly. You didn’t say anything, just tugged the first draw open, it was old and stiff and full of porno magazines. You rolled your eyes and dug through them before moving on to the next – that one was half empty only lighters and flakes of tobacco remained. You pulled open the last one, the wood squeaking as they rubbed against one another. Some papers (passport, ID etc) you flipped through them all, heart sinking until... Your fingers gingerly picked up the paper clipped pictures that was sat at the very bottom, buried, hidden, secret.
The photographs were small, rectangular, the corners worn and tattered, you pulled it from the paperclip. You stared at it – tears finally falling. There, Billy stood a bundle of blankets held carefully in his arms his face unsmiling, same as yours as you stood next to him, your eyes tired and body slumped into his slightly, but he was looking at you. Softly you flipped it around, the blue pen smudged, but the shabby cursive still legible, ‘Me, Y/n and baby James – Sep ‘83’. You pressed the picture to your chest and sighed shakily. You took the next one between your fingers, it was of Neil holding James. God, he had been furious, Billy had a black eye for weeks, you remember when you had knocked on Billy’s door tears in your eyes with a test weighing heavy in your pocket, he’d begged you to let him keep it a secret, but you’d said, “a baby isn’t something you can hide Billy, not for long anyways, especially if you want to be in its life,” so the next week Billy had told his dad, but it hadn’t gone so well. “You’ll be a dead beat,” he’d said, “do you want me to congratulate you for knocking up one of your slut whores,” he’s spat and later that night you’d cleaned Billy’s busted lip. You tossed the picture aside.
The next one was one you had taken. Billy was stood on the beach holding James as they both looked out at the sea, the sun’s glare haloing them as seagulls blurred in the background, you flipped it around, ‘Beach Day, March ‘84 - Billy + James’. You sobbed. The world stilled as you stared at the picture, at the rare genuine smile on Billy’s face. You’d broken up a month later and then they moved two months later. He’d turned up on your doorstep said goodbye to James and you had never seen him again. You will never see him again.
The small pitter-patter of familiar little steps rang out, but you couldn’t move. You just stayed staring at the picture. “Dada,” James’s voice made you sob more. For months he’d been asking for Billy. All month. Last August Billy had shown up, taken his son out for a day and spent the week, said he wanted to be more present said he missed his son, said he missed you. “Mmmama, dada.” James sounded so happy, so proud as though he’d found his father. You turned your head to see what James was looking at. Your heart broke. James’ arms stretched above him as he knelt, hands reaching out for the picture stuck on Billy’s mirror. He was clad in a basketball uniform. You could see his lips wobble as he couldn’t reach the picture he wanted so badly. “Daddy!” he wailed.
You tucked the two pictures into your pocket and stood to pick up your baby, plucking the picture from the mirror letting James hold it. “You weren’t invited to the funeral?” Max said. You turned quickly in surprise, honestly you had forgotten she was there. You shook your head. “I knew we shouldn’t have let that bastard handle the invites,” she sniffled softly.
“Welp. That’s Neil for ya. Grade A asshole,” you laughed sarcastically and harshly wiped at your eyes. “He did always hate me,” you looked down at James and kissed his hair squeezing your eyes shut, “always hated him,” you whispered watching as James continued to stare at his father’s face. “Look, we’re- we’re just going to go. I think we’ve overstayed our welcome,” you said red rimmed eyes staring at the similar ones. You swayed side to side.
“I’ll call you,” Max rushed. “I mean I’ll call you soon, maybe we can meet up, and we can go visit him- his grave, Billy’s grave I mean,” she stumbled. You smiled small and shallow. All of a sudden you felt tired as though everything has been sucked out of you.
“Yea, okay,” you muttered and left the room, looking over your shoulder one more time. “Say bye to auntie Max.”
“Bye bye ‘acks,” James cheered after you. It hurt. It hurt that he didn’t know what was happening. That he didn’t know Billy wasn’t going to come visit him anymore. That he no longer had a father. It made you sick.
May ‘86
“I brought you some flowers,” you sniffled, “they’re your mum’s favourites, don’t worry, they’re not fake I remember you telling me she hated fake flowers,” you chuckled wetly. “I’m sorry we missed your birthday, Max called and told me not to come down in March I don’t know why, but well...” you trailed off. You looked over your shoulder to check on James as he chased after a butterfly. “Our baby has grown so much you should see him. He does nothing slowly, just like you. He’s so much like you...James misses you, a lot. I know he still doesn’t really understand, but I think he knows deep down.” You stopped that lump in your throat that has become all too familiar lodged itself back into place.
You leant forward ignoring the looming future of having to scrub the grass stains from your jeans and pressed your forehead to the smooth top of the headstone, “I miss you.” You quietly sobbed as you softly kissed the freezing stone. “Goodbye Billy,” you whispered then leant back wiping at your tears, your fingertips brushing against the engraved name.
You stood to your feet and called out to the little boy, “James! Come say bye to daddy.” The toddler ran up to you, streaks of green covering his knees from where he’d tripped over his own feet. You pressed your fingers to your mouth as James whispered his goodbye to his dad, hugging the cold, solid, stone. He let go and looked up at you with a smile, “Come on,” you said softly reaching out your hand from him to take, his fingers wrapping two of yours, “let’s go see auntie Max, you can show her how good your counting is I’m sure by the time she’s better you’ll be able to count all the stars in the sky.”
“Lucash?!” James asked excitedly. You truthfully didn’t know where the lisp had come from, but the doctors said it was normal when their teeth are coming in.
“Yes, I’m sure Lucas will be there too,” you giggled amused at his excitement at seeing Lucas. “Come on then. I’ll get you something from the vending machine anything you want.” James cooed in excitement and let go of your hand to run up to your car. You had just moved to Hawkins to stay close to Max...and Billy with the upcoming lockdown and all. Your mum had protested at first, but she gave in when she saw the picture of Billy and James sat in frame on your bed, she didn’t think you’d noticed. But you had.
So now you were a citizen of Hawkins though you’re sure others would tell you, you were crazy, naive. But it’s those same people who said you and Billy were crazy, naive, stupid for having a baby at sixteen, but look how well that’s going – James let go of your hand and ran up to the car in a fit of giggles – after all it’s better to stay close to friends and family. You had plenty here.
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