Billy Hargrove had gotten himself into some serious trouble in the past few weeks. Between the drinking, the fights, and the bullshit he had going on in his home life, he had found himself in a holding cell in the Hawkins jail. His father, Neil, had left him to rot there for about a week before the Chief of Police, Jim Hopper, had stepped in. He had been selected to act as a mediator between the government officials and the Hawkins Police Department — Billy had only caught snippets of the conversation, something about how they gave "second chances" to people like him.
Apparently, he had been paired up with, "one of the program's finest." During the conversation that officers Powell and Callahan had initiated with him, it had been implied that someone thought they could, "get through the walls that Billy had put up." To him, that meant they would try to reform him into being something he wasn't, although he didn't have much of a choice but to go along with it at the moment. When Billy reluctantly agreed to the deal, not wanting to waste another minute in that Godforsaken hellhole, he was released under supervision.
When he stepped outside of the building, he caught sight of a man who stood a bit taller than him with a muscular build and cropped blond hair. "You're fuckin' kidding me," he muttered to himself. Slipping his pack of cigarettes from his front jacket pocket, he placed one between his lips and immediately ignited it. Billy took a bit of time to himself, taking a few drags to settle the irritation from the nicotine withdrawals that had been building since he had been locked up.
Billy Hargrove was in the gym at Hawkins High shooting hoops by himself, practicing for the upcoming basketball game. He wore black gym shorts with a white label that read, 'HAWKINS HIGH'; his shirt was sitting on the sidelines, a light sheen of sweat coating his tanned and muscular form. Dribbling the ball a few times, he picked up a subtle noise that caught his attention and caused him to grin. "You're not good at sneaking up on people, you know," Billy called out, voice steady and carrying a sliver of sarcasm.
He had been on edge since last night, when he had received the aforementioned, somewhat swollen bruise on his face. It was better than getting the belt — that was saved for when Neil was on his real power trips. However, it was enough to make him leave the house and sleep in the Camaro near some trailer park, where Munson had found him. Thankfully, Eddie didn't seem to be the type to ask questions.
Billy's jaw was set, fists clenched tightly at his sides, and piercing ocean-blue eyes locked onto the metal head before him. Jesus Christ, this guy was an idiot. It took everything in him not to step forward and knock some sense into Munson. Too kind to the boy who was full of rage, too naive and altruistic and laid back and —
The complete opposite of everything Billy Hargrove was. Maybe what he could have been, had circumstances been different... He took a long pull from his cigarette, nodding ever so slightly, the end of it glowing a vivid orange-red against his palm. For a minute, the air was still and tense around them, as if Hawkins itself was holding its breath and waiting.
The way Eddie had looked at him with those big doe eyes, offering to get him stoned and trying to provide some sense of... normalcy? Comfort? Support? Whatever it was, it was foreign to the blond and it left him feeling conflicted. So, he processed it the only way he knew how.
"Really, Munson?" he growled lowly, stepping forward. Billy exhaled a white-grey, translucent plume of smoke and flicked his cigarette away onto the ground. Then, his hands shot out, grasping Eddie's collar and pinning him against the nearest wall with a dull thud. Leaning in so he was inches from his face, gaze intense as he raked over the brunette's features, he was silent for a long moment. "Why the hell are you like that, huh?"
The question was vague, although the implication heavily lingered between them. He hated how much he had grown fond of this nerd — the dungeon master, the freak, the guitarist. Probably one of the only people in Hawkins that still stuck around him, and God only knew why. Most people either stayed because they were intimidated by him or because they could be just as bad, if not worse. Eddie was... different.
❛ have i seen you before ? ❜ (to Billy Hargrove from Regina George @fxntasmagoria )
♡ First Interactions Starter Sentences
♡ Starter for @fxntasmagoria
Billy Hargrove had ended up in Evanston, Illinois when his family had moved from San Diego, California. It was either this place or Hawkins, Indiana. At least here, Billy was closer to actual cities and not stuck in some small, hick town surrounded by farmlands. Aside from that, there was Lake Michigan, which was probably the closest thing he was going to get to the ocean around here. While he couldn't surf anymore, at least he could still spend time hanging out by the water, which was the only semblance of calm he had.
He wore his leather jacket and aviators as he lounged in his car, a lit cigarette dangling leisurely out of the window. The vivid sunlight reflected off the metallic indigo hues of his sleek Camaro, and lyrics from Van Halen's 'Drop Dead Legs' spilled out of the vehicle. The unfamiliar voice drew his attention to the passenger side window, and for a long moment, he just stared at the woman with an unreadable expression. Leaning forward, Billy turned the volume down a little, then sat back against his seat as his focus returned to her.
"Doubt it," he responded nonchalantly, his voice low and smooth. Billy wasn't oblivious — he could tell she was the top of the social hierarchy here, and she was probably sizing him up. Whether that was for her own gain or because he was something new and exciting, he wasn't certain yet. After he studied her for a few seconds, he added with a hint of sarcastic amusement, "You the welcoming committee or somethin'?"
Steve's jaw instinctively tightened a bit at the harsh tone, noting the frustration that emanated from the blond in waves. His hands were on his hips, shoulders squared and eyes fixed on Billy with a combination of wariness and understanding. Despite their history, the brunette could tell he was making an effort — it was evident in the way he hadn't smacked the crap out of Steve yet. With a sigh, he ran a hand through his hair and shifted his weight a little, taking a minute to calm himself down.
"You're right," he finally muttered, nodding imperceptibly as his focus returned to Billy, a flash of renewed determination in his umber eyes. "It's new to us — that's the first step, all right? It's not just you anymore." Harrington didn't dare move closer, not yet, not when he wasn't sure how amped up the blond was; he didn't need a repeat of last time, blacking out at the Byers' house and tending to the injuries for at least two weeks after. "Just relax, man, and take a deep breath. Changing things — it's not going to happen overnight."
Gradually, he dared to take a step forward, moving at half-speed so that he didn't put him even further on edge. Reaching out, Steve clapped a hand on his shoulder in a light gesture, trying to ground the blond a little. "Listen... I know this isn't easy for you, but you have to trust me," he began a little more calmly, his voice steady as he met Billy's gaze head-on, subtly scanning his features for any sign of resistance. "Those kids, Hargrove? They're counting on me, on you; we can't let them down, because the consequences are dire."
♡ Random Misc. Dialogue
♡ Starter for @ghostsandmirrors
Billy Hargrove had been in some serious trouble with the local authorities lately. Much to his indignation — and thanks to the Hawkins Chief of Police, Jim Hopper — he had been placed into a temporary living situation with the man that stood before him. What a fuckin' joke. No one told him what to do, especially not some holier-than-thou, government-officiated hard-ass.
Despite how he had gotten here, it was at least a way to get away from his father, Neil — even temporarily was better than nothing. Still, Billy was certain his father was fuming and ready to tear him a new one. It was only a matter of time before he would have to return to face him. Absentmindedly, his jaw had tightened at the thought, a subtle mix of anxiety creeping through his chest in the form of defiance and simmering rage.
"Lookin' at you like what, shitbird? Like you're a buzzkill?" he replied with a deadpan tone, an almost imperceptible shrug accompanying the remark. Billy continued to stare at the other man with a lit cigarette dangling from his lips, ocean blue eyes sharp and hardened, and dirty blond curls framing his angular features. He was standing with his lower back against the thick, wooden railing of the porch and the palm of one hand resting on the edge of the banister.
♡ Random Dialogue from the Recesses of my Sleep-Deprived Brain
♡ Starter for @strangest--things
It was an early Saturday morning in Hawkins, Indiana. Out at the Hargrove-Mayfield house on Cherry Lane, Billy had been working out in his living room with the nearby TV blasting Ratt's 'Round and Round'. The flash of light that reflected across the walls caught his attention, signaling a vehicle. Neil wasn't supposed to be home yet.
Setting the barbell back on the stand with a low grunt and grinding out his cigarette in the ashtray on the table, Billy sighed with vexation and prepared himself for the worst as he headed toward the window. Peering outside, however, he spotted a motorcycle and a figure that was clearly frustrated, examining the bike. Cocking a brow slightly, he wiped the light sheen of sweat from his brow and stepped out onto the porch. "Everyone should be a lot more appreciative of me not going apeshit," he muttered under his breath, heading down the walkway and toward the individual.
A flicker of surprise briefly crossed his features when he neared them and realized they were a woman, catching sight of her long, blonde strands and lean build. Quickly masking the reaction, he cleared his throat to get her attention, stopping a few feet away with his arms crossed over his chest. "You break down or somethin'?" Billy questioned gruffly, gesturing to the motorcycle with a faint nod. While he waited for her response, his gaze darted over her appearance, taking in the fingerless gloves, leather jacket, dark jeans, and boots.
