Violent Delights (Part Four)
Summary: Billy Hargrove is the silent, angry coworker you've been trying to avoid for months, unwilling to get yourself tangled in Hawkin's bad boy. But one day, you begin to notice the scars on his body, the random attacks of headaches and violent flashbacks, the way you always had a nagging feeling there was someone else peeking at you from his eyes--you've never been able to resist a mystery.
Part Three can be found here: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/writerwannabetree/689942489353895936?source=share
Warnings: 18+, explicit content, making out, dry humping lol, dirty talk.
Part four:
Somewhere between midnight and morning, you had fallen asleep on Robin's bony shoulder, her bowl of popcorn spilling on your lap.
You blink awake, the half-light of tv illuminating Steve passed out on the floor and Robin with her face tucked into a pillow, their snores nearly hiding the sound of the phone ringing.
You stumble to your feet and make your way to the kitchen, stepping over Steve and an empty liquor bottle, the ringing phone making your head ache. "Hello?" You say groggily into the receiver, leaning against the wall to get your bearings.
"Where's Steve?" A girl's voice demands, her tone high-pitched and panicky. "He's asleep, should I go get him and Robin?" You ask, suddenly more awake. "(Your name)?" "Uh, yeah? Do I know you?" "We met the other day at the movie store, remember? I came to check on Billy?" "Max? Uh, what can I do for you?"
"He needs you," Max says simply. "He-he's on the ground, and he's shaking and he won't come out of it. He's never not come out of it before, it's like…god, just please come. He kept saying your name."
Billy? Why would your coworker ask for you at three in the morning?
"I know this sounds crazy, okay? But…I don't know what else to do. Please." You put your hand against the wall, steadying yourself. "Okay. Where do you live?" You write down the address on the back of your hand—it's that old trailer park in the woods, where Eddie Munson lives. You had been friends with Eddie back in middle school, and while the relationship faded when he went into high school and stayed in high school, you could still remember the route to his house, peddling away on your bike.
"Steve?" You shake Steve awake. "Steve? I need you to drive me to Billy Hargrove's house." Steve blinks up at you blearily, "What?"
"Max called," you say, "He needs my help, Steve, please drive me." Steve looks at you for a long moment, processing your words. He sighs and holds up a hand for you to help him up off the floor. "Grab my keys, kid, they're on the dresser." Robin is awake now, asking questions, but you don't hear them. Steve opens the passenger door for you and you sit without a word, your heart doing a funny little dance in your chest that you don't recognize.
Robin leans forward from the backseat, setting her bony chin on your shoulder. "Do you have something to tell us, dude? Are you and Hargrove…" She trails off suggestively.
"Jesus, no," you say, wrinkling your nose. "He's a…friend. He has these weird episodes at work sometimes and I sit there with him until it's over. Maybe he thinks I help to bring him out of it or something."
Robin and Steve share a look—a knowing look. "You two knew about this?"
Steve shrugs, "I babysit Max, his little sister, sometimes with her friends. I've heard a thing or two." It's deeper than that, but Steve and Robin have always had secrets. You have bigger things to worry about tonight.
Steve reaches over the console and grips your hand, "Hey, you're doing a good thing. A weird thing, but good. Hargrove isn't…what he used to be." "Yeah, they both bashed each other's faces in once," Robin quips.
"Really?" You say as Steve rolls his eyes. "That's what this alpha male thing is between you? Some fight two years ago?" "We're over it," Steve lies, "I won anyway." Somehow, you have trouble picturing that.
Steve parks you in front of a white trailer house with a built-on porch, a collection of lifting weights hidden in the corner. There's no curtains, no extra chairs, or welcome mats—definitely Billy Hargrove's house, it hadn't occurred to him to nest.
You knock on the screen door hesitantly, but instead of Max, Dustin Henderson greets you, his usually cheerful face pale and unsmiling. "Hey," he says, "C'mon in. You work at the Family Video, don't you?" "Yeah," you say, Steve and Robin flanking you. Dustin lights up at the sight of Steve, holding his fist out for a boyish fist-bump. "You came," Max says from the kitchen, her tense face relaxing slightly with relief. "Uh, Billy's in his room if you want to see him. He's not…he's not in good shape, okay? If something goes wrong, just shout and we'll be there." "She's going in by herself?" Steve says, raising his brows.
"He doesn't want anyone else. It's like he's back in there," Max's voice drops to a whisper, "You know, like the Mind-flayer still has him."
You step hesitantly to a closed bedroom door, unknowing of what you will find in there. You open the door carefully, wincing as the hinges squeak.
"Jesus, Billy." Billy is on the ground, curled into himself with his pretty curls slick with sweat and blood. He must have bit through his lip, blood dribbling down his chin and onto the carpet, his eyes blank and unseeing.
You reach out hesitantly to brush his shoulder, his skin hot to the touch, his skin shuddering at the feeling of your palm. "(Your name)?"
"Yeah, Hargrove, it's me." You sit beside him, your knee brushing against his elbow. "Max called me." Billy looks up at you, his eyes dark, dark blue. "I'm tired, sweetheart. I just want to sleep." He sounds like himself, even if there's an undercurrent of something else behind his words. "Okay." You reach for a pillow from the bed, setting it on your lap for his head. "Hargrove, move your head. You can sleep here."
Billy's head falls into your lap with a sigh, his hand curling around your ankle in a painfully tight grip. "Am I human?" He asks softly, hot gaze devouring your face.
"I don't know what else you would be," you say, brushing sweaty curls out of his face. "Go to sleep, Billy, I'm right here." His grip tightens as his eyes close, as if he was terrified you would sneak out on him. You reach for a nearby shirt and wipe the blood off his mouth, revealing a mess of a lower lip.
Max stands in the doorway, her arms crossed. "Thank you." You shrug, "Yeah, I mean, what is this? Some kind of ptsd episode? A seizure?"
"I guess ptsd is the best way to describe it," Max says. "Uh, his mom left him when his was a kid, and his dad was an abusive piece of shit. He got in a car accident last year and hit his head—he's been like this ever since."
"Damn," you say, "That's a hell of a childhood." Max laughs and slides down to sit cross-legged on the carpet like you, her eyes on her brother. "Yeah. You know he used to hate me? He was horrible for a long time, it was so bad it was unforgivable." "What changed?" "Billy…well, he tried to give his life for mine. And he took me out of his father's batshit house and gave me a place to stay—I tried to get a job after school, so we could share rent, but he told me to focus on school, he would take care of this rest." Max shakes her head. "Don't get me wrong, he's still an ass sometimes, but…I've never had a real father. But Billy came pretty damn close to making me feel like I do this year."
You reach for her small, pale hand, gripping it gently. Her mouth twitches into a half smile, seeming to be relieved that Billy isn't just on her shoulders anymore. "He didn't want you to know," you say, "He has these episodes sometimes at work, but none of them like this." Max nods. "Yeah, he thinks he's invincible. I've never heard him ask for anyone before, though, are you, uh, his girlfriend or something? Billy mentioned something about you going out with Steve."
You snort. "No to both. Steve and Robin are my friends and Billy is my coworker. I don't think I ever held an actual conversation with Billy until about a month ago."
Steve appears above Max, his brows raising even higher at the sight of big, bad, Billy Hargrove curled up in a girl's lap like a child. "Shit. You think we should get him to a couch or something?" You glance at his bed—the sheets are slick with sweat and blood from his lip. "Yeah, the couch might be better." Amazingly, Billy stays asleep while you, Steve, and Mike Wheeler carry him to the couch. "Jeez, he's heavier than he used to be," Mike grumbles, stumbling over a gap in the rug. Lucas Sinclair gives Billy a disdainful look and moves to stand beside Max, his arm curling around her shoulders comfortingly.
You sit beside Billy out of obligation, letting his arm curl around your waist as his head lands back in your lap. "I can watch him 'till morning," you say to the room, "If everyone wants to get some sleep." The group of kids and adults glance at each other.
"Robin and I can come pick you back up in the morning," Steve offers. "It's Saturday, right? No work?" "Yeah, that's good. I'll try and sleep as much as I can until he wakes up." The group of kids all glance at Max, obviously not wanting to leave her. "We can sleep at Eddie's," Dustin offers, "That way we're close if he…if Max needs us." Max nods, glancing at you. "You can probably leave, you know, he's calmed down." You look at Billy's mauled lip. "I'll stay. That way you're not alone." Max smiles at you, relieved. "Thanks." Everyone fades away after another hour, Max finally retreating back to her room after nodding off in the rickety recliner. Billy stirs at the sound of her door closing shut, his eyes still as dark as the night when he looks up at you.
"Hey," you say softly, but he doesn't seem interested in talking. Instead, his hand reaches up to slide through your hair, yanking you down to crush his ruined mouth against yours.
You open your mouth to speak, but his tongue fills it, the metallic tang of blood coming with it. He's strong, pulling you down with him so suddenly he was on top, his sharp hips pressing into yours.
"What are you doing?" You yelp when Billy breaks away from your mouth to trail kisses down your throat, nipping at your pounding pulse. You can't bring yourself to push him away, not with the way heat is spreading through your stomach, your hands shaking as they curl into his shirt. "Do you want me?" He whispers against your throat, his hips shoving themselves against yours so you can feel his hardness through his sweats.
"Billy," you say, cupping his jaw. "Billy. Look at me." He does. His eyes are a mixture of blue and black, and for a moment you feel like a rabbit pinned under a fox, his hair spilling over his shoulders, tickling your skin.
"What's going on?" You ask. "Billy, last night you were just my coworker, and now I'm under you on your couch."
"Forget Harrington," Billy says, sliding his tongue under your jaw. "I'll do whatever you fuckin' want if you just pick me instead. Please." You've never had a boy desperate for you, his fingers digging bruises in your hips, his teeth biting at your shoulder. You've spent the last six months shoving whatever attraction you've felt towards Billy aside, and now it's all rising to the surface—but this is wrong, five minutes ago he was spazzing out in some kind of abuse-triggered memory and now he's rocking his hips against your core, grinding like he was already inside of you.
"It wasn't a date," you gasp. "I was teasing you, I'm not dating Steve."
He sinks his teeth into your lower lip, then soothes the sting with his tongue. "Shit, honey, you had me goin' there for a sec. Did you want me to be jealous, huh? Is that what you wanted?" You shake your head, forcing his mouth off of yours. "Billy, we shouldn't be doing this. You were just delirious on the floor an hour ago, you need rest and maybe a trip to the hospital-" Billy laughs, nuzzling into your jaw like a cat. "All I need is you, baby."
God, that line is cheesy enough to bring you to your senses. You push gently against his chest and he sits up, looking at your like a pouting five year old told he can't have anymore cookies.
"Billy, we can continue this conversation later, this is so not the right time," you tell him sternly.
"Sweetheart, I'll make you feel real good," he says, leaning into you to steal another kiss. "God, I'm a virgin, Billy, I don't need anything sexual happening on a random couch with a fifteen year old girl is sleeping in the other room."
Billy blinks, taken aback. "You're a virgin?"
"That's what you're shocked about? Really?" He slips off of you, sitting back as he looks at you with a new gleam to his eyes. "Have you ever had a boyfriend?" "No," you say, "It's not exactly like boys are lining up to date me, Hargrove, not everyone is born with charm and looks."
Billy looks at you, tilting his head at the curve of your breasts under your shirt, the soft plushness of your thighs, your mouth slick with his saliva. "You're the prettiest goddamn thing I've ever seen, girl." You roll your eyes. "Go to sleep, Billy. We're both tired." Billy smiles at you, elastic and amiable, the gap in his teeth surprisingly adorable. "Sleep with me. I don't want to be alone." He's serious—he's not trying to get in your pants, just afraid that the monsters will come back if you don't stay. You sigh and turn to your side, wordlessly allowing him to wrap his arms around your waist and bury his face in your hair.
"Thank you," Billy says softly.
You don't think you've ever heard him say that before.
