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“You’re killing me, doll.” He groaned.
You swatted his hands away from the buttons of your shirt. “Not here,” you insisted.
You’d done a lot of crazy shit in your life, but choosing to date Billy Hargrove was probably the craziest.
Except you were clever; you had a plan. You were an English nerd that had read Taming of the Shrew as a self-help guide with precisely this man in mind. And you really liked a good project.
“Then where?” he demanded.
You shrugged. “Somewhere where you’re not going to give the whole school a show.”
It’d started when Steve showed up to school with his face bashed in. Or no, that wasn’t right - technically it’d started about a week earlier than that, when Billy Hargrove roared into the parking lot of Hawkins High in that Camaro of his. It was immediately obvious he thought he was hot shit.
You were ready to eat him alive.
What really did it, though, was hearing about him having beaten the shit out of Steve. And seeing the aftermath, the black eyes and bloodied cuts.
Steve Harrington had been your friend since third grade. You’d never been one of the popular crowd, but you weren’t unpopular, either, and you knew how to keep your head down and to scheme so when Steve and Tommy and Carol got meaner, you just kept yourself safe.
And then Steve started dating Nancy Wheeler, and suddenly had a moral epiphany, and Tommy and Carol decided he was worthless. You, however, were relieved, and you “followed him to the dork side,” as he put it. Nancy and Jonathan were much cooler, in your opinion, even if you felt like sometimes there was a secret the three shared that you were on the outside of.
So when someone had beaten your Stevie to a pulp, you knew you had to do something.
“Not much of an exhibitionist, huh?” Billy breathed into your neck. “Not even for Harrington?”
Steve knew about your plan. He didn’t like your plan, but he knew. And you weren’t stupid, you knew Billy wasn’t going to go for you unless there was some kind of draw - and that draw was “stealing” you from the man he’d unilaterally decided was his rival.
You laughed, swatting him as he bit at your neck. “Especially not for Steve; you know I don’t want to be part of whatever weird game you two have going.” This wasn’t strictly true, because the game was what you were counting on, but he didn’t need to know that.
“You’re not, baby, I promise,” he lied, kissing his way back up your jaw as he shoved his hand down the back of your jeans.
If you weren’t thinking of the whole thing as a joke, you’d probably be pretty annoyed at the way he continued to ignore your “no.” As it was, you just put both hands on his shoulders and shoved him off of you with a laugh.
“You’re like a dog looking for meat,” you teased with just a hint of an edge in your voice.
“Can you blame me?” He gave that crooked smile that seemed to charm everyone in Hawkins. And as much as you hated it, it worked just a little bit on you.
You rolled your eyes. “Heel, boy.” He growled and bit your neck. “Oh my god!” You knew you shouldn’t laugh, knew it would only encourage him, but you couldn’t help yourself. “Not in the fucking hallway, Billy!”
“Everyone’s in class,” he whined.
You crossed your arms. “I said ‘no,’ Billy. I know you have a brain, figure something out.” You flicked his forehead. “If you want it that bad.”
“Well, in that case…” He scooped you up into a bridal carry, grinning. “Let’s go home, doll.”
You laughed all the way out the door. Cutting from Hawkins High was shockingly easy, not that you were complaining. And you kept on laughing as he deposited you roughly in his front seat.
Did this plan involve sleeping with Billy? Yes. But you’d done worse, and you had to admit, you were curious. You’d heard he wasn’t particularly good at looking out for his partner’s pleasure.
But then, he’d never tried to get with you before.
“Wait, wait, wait.” Nancy held up her hands, waving them back and forth. “You got Billy Hargrove to go down on you?”
Steve made a scandalized sound, looking at you with intense betrayal. “I don’t want to hear this!”
“I’m just shocked - it’s notoriously well-known that the girls just like him because he’s wild, it’s not like they actually get off. He’s not a giver.” Nancy grinned. “Until he met our (Y/n), I guess.”
You just grinned as Steve groaned and placed his head on the lunch table.
Nancy and Jonathan also knew about the plan. Jonathan had more or less the same feelings on it as Steve, except without the “friends since 8” protectiveness, but Nancy was impressed by it and just as invested as you were.
“I made him get me off before I even touched him,” you whispered to her, leaning over so Steve didn’t have to hear it. “I made it sound like a challenge, like I was complaining about all my other sexual partners.” The number of whom you may have exaggerated to spur Billy onward. “And then I stroked his ego.”
Nancy furrowed her brow. “Yeah, but that still makes it...about him, not your pleasure.”
“Baby steps, Nancy, baby steps.” You took a swig from your bottle of water. “It’s called Behaviorism. B.F. Skinner did it, rats in boxes. You reward good behavior with things they care about. Right now, what he cares about is himself.”
“And you, doll,” Billy chimed in with faux-earnestness as he slid into the lunch table next to you. You nearly choked, but he couldn’t possibly have heard the rest of your conversation because there would definitely be shouting.
Instead, Nancy held back her snort as he went in for an entirely-too-dramatic kiss of greeting. It was clearly for Steve’s detriment, and you rolled your eyes.
“Be nice,” you chastised.
He smirked. “I’m very nice.” He nudged you. “I was very nice to you yesterday, wasn’t I, babe?”
You wanted to roll your eyes, but you replied truthfully, “Yeah, I was just telling Nancy about it.”
His lascivious grin grew. “That good, huh?” You nodded, trying not to gag on his ego. This was for the greater good. “Well, Wheeler, if you ever want a demonstration…”
Steve and Jonathan both bristled at the same time, but Nancy just dryly shot back, “I think I’m good in that department, thanks.”
You knew Billy was still flirting with other people. Anyone he could get away with, anyone that moved. The hardest part of dating him was faking that you cared about that; so far, you’d just been pretending you didn’t know about it and ignoring the pitying-judgmental whispers that followed you around.
Besides, it was kind of funny to see Nancy shoot him down over and over. You knew Billy had no interest in getting with her - had told you so himself, and you knew he was being honest - but he liked to bother Steve because everyone knew Steve had “lost” Nancy to Jonathan, and now you to Billy, and he just couldn’t resist kicking the man while he was down.
You knew that there was a hell of a lot more to the story than just “Steve lost Nancy,” but it was part of the week they all refused to acknowledge that culminated in Billy bashing in Steve’s face, so you hadn’t quite figured things out yet. Nancy and Jonathan were dating - probably, you never could be sure with those two - and Steve was definitely still messed up over Nancy, but they still all sat together at lunch, and sometimes Nancy looked like she was still messed up over Steve, too.
Your idiot boyfriend, however, had not picked up on any of those nuances, so he just flirted with Nancy to take potshots at Steve. Pissing off Jonathan was just a bonus.
The downside of dating Billy was that it put you back in Tommy and Carol’s orbit. The upside was that Billy’s ego didn’t allow people to talk shit about his partner - not out of any care for your feelings, you knew, just for his reputation - so they’d more or less left you alone.
But it was a trade-off. You dealt with his shit friends, he spent time with your friends. Even if it was just to cause problems, that still put him around four normal, reasonable people who wouldn’t take any of his shit.
All part of your master plan.
You offered him the extra cookie from your lunch, which you had packed just for him. It seemed kind of grade school, but Billy always ate like he was starving, and he claimed your baked goods were the absolute best, so it was just another way to win him over.
He snagged half your sandwich too and you let him, because he didn’t have a lunch of his own, and you both pretended not to notice the genuine gratitude that flickered in his eyes for a split second.
When he wasn’t actively antagonizing Steve, he actually managed to keep up with everyone and make a couple jokes to get you to laugh. He had a perfectly civil conversation about the basketball season with Steve, and he patiently answered questions you asked.
It made you feel like your plan was working. Bit by bit, you were getting him to chill out. You weren’t sure if you were getting him to fall for you - it seemed right now that you might both be using each other for personal goals - but that was okay.
You had time.
It had been a lot easier to ignore that Billy had no interest in monogamy before you caught him with his hand up Heather Holloway’s skirt at a party.
You weren’t a party person, especially not after the absolute disaster of Halloween that ended with Jonathan taking a plastered Nancy home and your delightful job of herding a not-as-plastered-but-twice-as-sad Steve Harrington. You’d been to exactly one of the parties Billy had invited you to before now, and when you said you’d be there tonight, he’d laughed. Clearly he hadn’t believed you.
“Well, this is awkward.” You crossed your arms. Heather at least had the decency to look a little ashamed, though it was definitely just at being caught.
Billy turned on a simpering smile. “Baby, it’s not what it looks like -” he tried.
You couldn’t help it, you started laughing. “Billy, her panties are around her knees and your fingers are glistening.” You gestured to the hand no longer under the skirt. “I’m not fucking stupid.”
Heather glanced back and forth between the two of you. “I think I should go,” she said, more to the air than to a person, and then she yanked up the aforementioned panties and fled.
You and Billy stared at each other for a long moment. He was regarding you with a wariness you’d never seen before.
“So how’s this gonna go?” he asked finally. “You scream at me, I tell you she means nothing to me, you hit me and I let you because I’ve got some sense of honor, and then we pretend this never happened?”
You snorted. “I feel inclined to do none of those things.”
“You’re not angry?” he asked disbelievingly.
“Oh, I’m pissed,” you replied. You were, and you were pissed for a number of reasons, including the one which was offended that Billy had ‘cheated’ on you, as if this were a real relationship and not a farce.
“So scream at me.” He rolled his eyes, like it was obvious.
There wasn’t any talk of breaking up, but there also wasn’t talk of winning you back. Billy Hargrove didn’t apologize or waste effort chasing someone down after a fight. But unlike anyone else he’d dated, his social standing would be damaged for a while if people knew you dumped him, since you were definitely not a part of the popular crowd. It was uppity to think you could just walk away.
But more importantly to you, you had a plan.
“What does that accomplish, Billy?” you sighed. All of a sudden you were so, so tired. You walked into the bedroom that Billy and Heather hadn’t even made it to and flopped down on the spare bed, looking up at the ceiling.
“Catharsis or something?” he offered, following behind you and shutting the door.
You sighed. “I’m not going to feel better screaming at you or hitting you,” you replied.
“I would.”
“Yeah, well, you and I are different, Hargrove.” You let a bit of heat into your voice. “Clearly.”
“I told you, baby, she means nothing.” He traced his hands up the side of your body and leaned in for a kiss, but you pushed him away. “If I had to choose between the two of you, I’d pick you in a heartbeat.”
You almost started dying of laughter at that. “You realize most people would say you’re supposed to pick between the two of us, right? Would say that’s what a relationship is?”
He didn’t answer. You caught a twisted frown on his face that was definitely a concession of the point.
“So what, you’re just going to walk away like I’m nothing?” he spat, hackles rising.
You’d tell him he was nothing, but honestly, you didn’t believe that. You always knew that he could be something, and that’s the whole point. That’s why you were doing this, to get him to leave Steve and Lucas alone, to - well, to Tame the Shrew.
“I didn’t say that.” You exhaled slowly, carefully. Deciding how honest to be. “I don’t actually care, you know.”
“What?”
“I know you’re hooking up with anyone you want even though we’re together.” He looked poised to deny it. “Please, Hargrove, this was hardly the first time. It’s not - I don’t care.”
That seemed to really stump him. “You don’t?”
“I’m not looking to own you or chain you down,” you replied, which was true. “We’re having fun, right? That’s what this is about, having fun.”
He offered a filthy smile. “We have lots of fun.”
“Oh, shut up.” You rolled your eyes. “You’re allergic to serious conversations, you know that? But unless you want to walk out that door, you’re going to have to have this one.”
It was a bold play.
He didn’t move from where he sat next to you on the bed. You weren’t sure why - could annoying Steve really be worth that much?
“So if you don’t care about Heather, why are you pissed?” he demanded. “Because I know you are. But I don’t get it.”
You were pissed about a lot of things, some of which had nothing to do with the present situation. But most of those, you couldn’t verbalize, so you settled on, “Because you’re hiding it and acting like you don’t trust me. You won’t talk to me.”
He snorted disbelievingly. “You’re mad I didn’t tell you I was cheating on you?”
“I mean...yeah, basically.” You shrugged. “It’s not cheating if I know about it and I’m okay with it, though.”
“You’re okay with it,” he repeated incredulously.
You had spent a fair amount of time trying to figure out how to handle this problem, and you’d settled on an answer. “I’m okay with it. You can be with whoever you want on two conditions.”
“Yeah?” He raised a skeptical eyebrow. “And what are those?”
“One: I want you to tell me about these things. Preferably ahead of time, but just in general.” You made yourself sound earnest. Open. Carefully, you sat up to look him in the eye. “And two: if you get to be with whoever you want, then so do I.”
His nostrils flared. “No.” It was instantaneous. He didn’t even think.
You shrugged because you’d expected that. “Then no deal. You don’t own me, Billy,” you reminded him, “the same way I don’t own you. We should be keeping the same standards.”
He rolled his eyes. “It’s not the same, and you know it. Me being with other people does nothing to you. You being with someone else would trash my reputation.”
“Well, people are annoying as hell about it now,” you pointed out. “They’re all judging me and pitying me and whatever the hell else. Besides, it won’t reflect badly on you because if I choose to do anything with that option, I won’t get caught.” You smirked. “Some of us know how to be subtle. And at least get into the bedroom before we initiate sex.”
“Yeah, yeah, fine. Do what you want.” He rolled his eyes and glanced at you sideways. “So that’s it? I get off without you even yelling at me?”
“Well, no one said anything about getting off,” you quipped, prompting a small smirk. You felt oddly proud to have gained it. “But I mean, yeah, we talked about what upset me and found a solution. Not everything has to have a fight, screaming or hitting.”
“Huh.” He mulled this over for a while. “So, about getting off…” A filthy grin spread across his face.
You grabbed the pillow on the bed and whacked him over the head with it. “You haven’t even washed your hands after Heather!” But you were honestly, genuinely laughing. And you weren’t mad anymore.
You didn’t think too hard about that.
You hadn’t been dating Billy for all that long, all things considered. A bit less than a month. But things were really good - weirdly good - between you, especially after the incident with Heather at the party.
He had ridiculous taste in music, but you still liked to listen to it in the passenger’s seat of his car. You liked when he drove too fast down the empty streets and you felt the wind whipping in your hair.
You liked that he’d seemed to make it his personal mission to impress you.
It wasn’t for you. It was for his own ego, his reputation. You’d overheard Carol berating Tommy for not treating her like this, and you’d caught Billy smirking at the display. But you couldn’t complain either, because you were living a good life, regardless of his motivation.
Which is why it stung when he didn’t invite you over for Thanksgiving.
It was only a couple days in advance, and yeah, you’d been together less than a month, but when you’d mentioned your parents would be out of town for Thanksgiving, you figured it went against his efforts to leave you lonely.
Instead, you called Steve. His parents were also out for Thanksgiving - one of the many things you’d bonded about over the years - and so he came over and you made chicken nuggets and cuddled on the couch and sat around talking about anything and everything. It was a Thanksgiving tradition of its own.
Apparently Jonathan’s mom was having a thing for Thanksgiving and you tried not to wince at the fact that you hadn’t been invited - “It was super last minute,” Steve promised, “Jonathan didn’t even know until yesterday.” - but you were at least a little warmed by the fact Steve was skipping out on part of that party for you. Still, when you bade him farewell for the night, the house felt too empty.
You wrapped yourself up in a fluffy blanket and sat on the couch with a book, but only because it was too early to go to bed; however, that didn’t stop you from falling asleep on the couch with the book on your chest.
Until someone started pounding on your door like the world was on fire, and you stumbled sleepily to open up and find your boyfriend bloodied and smelling like whiskey.
“What the hell are you doing here?” you asked dumbly, not quite sure what was happening.
He shrugged and pushed past you into the house, not bothering to take off his boots before he strode through the kitchen and grabbed an ice pack. “We’re dating, aren’t we?”
You snorted. “Yeah, that answers nothing. Why are you in my house, bloody and drunk on Thanksgiving night?”
“I’m not drunk,” he groused. You gave him a raised eyebrow. “I’m not. It wasn’t my alcohol.”
You sighed, fetching your first aid kit. “Baby, what happened to you?”
You didn’t mean to call him Baby, but it slipped out anyway. He didn’t comment on it.
“Why do you want to know?” he demanded, throwing himself down into a chair at your kitchen table.
“We’re dating, aren’t we?” you echoed, planting your hands on your hips. “Let me take care of you.”
“I don’t need to be taken care of.”
“Mmhmm. And that’s why you’re here instead of driving around breaking traffic laws until you stop feeling pissed.” You poured some antiseptic on a cotton pad and started dabbing at a cut over his eye. “What made this?”
“Whiskey glass,” he replied shortly.
“Mm.” That’s why the drink wasn’t his. “Was it your dad?”
He looked at you like you’d just pulled some impossible guess, but it was Thanksgiving, he was beat to hell, and you knew from Steve that Max was afraid of her step-dad. It wasn’t a hard conclusion to reach.
You felt a protective anger surging inside you. “I’ll kill him.”
Billy barked out a laugh at that. “No, you won’t.”
“You couldn’t stop me if you tried.”
“Nah, I’d be too busy stopping him from killing you,” Billy sniped back.
That made you pause. “You’d fight your dad to defend me?”
“Yes? Why is that even a question?” he grumbled. “You know how I feel about you.”
“I don’t, actually,” you replied, hoping to goad him into saying something. You wanted him to be honest, to talk about feelings.
He rolled his eyes and looked away, hissing as you dabbed a cut on his chin. “You smell like Harrington,” he said instead of answering, staring at you accusingly.
“Okay, one, I think it’s weird that you can identify what Steve smells like,” you started. “I just want that on the record. Two, yeah, he was over earlier to keep me company.”
Billy practically growled. “You’re mine.”
Oh for fuck’s sake. “Remember condition two of our arrangement? I let you be with whoever you want, you let me do the same.”
“But not him,” he insisted. “I don’t care if you slept with every single person at Hawkins High, just not him.”
“Why?” you demanded, growing increasingly frustrated. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“Because you’re the one thing I have that he doesn’t!”
You sucked in a breath. There was a tense silence, but he wasn’t taking it back, either.
“I am not a thing to be had,” you replied carefully. “And you told me that you weren’t dating me because of your stupid rivalry with Steve. That it had nothing to do with that.”
Billy looked at you defiantly, but he broke your gaze first. “You know what my dad said after the first basketball game he watched me play here?”
“I mean, I’m going to assume it’s something rude that you shouldn’t listen to,” you drawled.
Billy ignored you. “He said, ‘Why can’t you be more like that Harrington boy? Team captain, responsible, leader, and he scored some great points.’”
You took a second to calculate. “So you’re telling me that you’re a dick to Steve because Daddy likes him better?”
“No, you don’t get it.” He shook his head and his curls bounced. You could see some matted blood near his hairline, but you didn’t wipe it off yet. “Harrington has - he fucking has everything. He’s got a big house, he’s got friends who love him, he’s basketball captain, he was King of the whole fucking town. Fuck, he even has my dad’s approval.” He swallowed thickly. “He gets along with my bitch step-sister -”
“Hey,” you warned. “I also like your step-sister; I happen to think she’s delightful.”
“- and she looks up to him like some kind of fucking older brother. And I took his spot as King, but he doesn’t care, and he still has everything.” He exhaled heavily. “Except you. He’s in love with you, but you’re mine.”
“Steve is most definitely not in love with me, but okay.” You crossed your arms, still holding the cotton pad. “So was it all about winning against Steve, then? I’m just a toy for you two to fight over?”
“No, you’re the only person in this bullshit town who has any fucking spine, and you’re attractive and you’re smart and you chose me.”
“If you ever try to make me choose between you and Steve, I will kick your ass so hard you turn inside out,” you said quietly. He began to protest but you held up a hand. “No, listen to me. Steve is my best friend. Okay? You can’t change that. But…” You sighed softly. “Your dad’s full of shit, Billy. You’re just as good as he is.”
And fuck, you actually meant it. Or you wanted to, anyway. He was still rude and brash and racist, but he was getting better. And the whole reason you’d started this stupid plan that had Billy Hargrove on your doorstep at 10pm was because you believed he could be good.
Billy snorted, so you doubled down.
“I mean it. You’re funny and you’re strong and you’re tough and you work hard when stuff matters to you. You don’t let much matter to you, because it makes you look cool or something, but it’s still true.” You sighed. “And yeah, I chose you. Not over Steve, not over anyone. Just in general. I looked at you and decided you were worth my time and effort.”
You felt strangely guilty, even though all of what you were saying was true. He was worth your time and effort - to make a better person.
“Huh.” He sat there with the ice pack against his head, processing.
“Stay the night,” you suggested. “Let me clean you up and we’ll just...sleep.”
Billy nodded slowly. “Yeah, okay.”
“And then tomorrow I’ll start planning your father’s mysterious and tragic accident.”
“Jesus christ, (Y/n)!”
“Sorry!” you said in a tone that clearly communicated you weren’t sorry at all. “C’mon.”
There was a brief kerfuffle over letting you help him shower, but ultimately his ego won out and you wound up just curled up in bed, waiting for him.
You were going to spend the night sleeping next to Billy Hargrove. Willingly. On purpose. This was the first overnight the two of you would share - someone always went home well before sleeping.
You kind of wanted to go back in time and tell yourself the first day you saw him how things would play out, just for the reaction.
He laid down in bed, not touching you. His hair was still damp on the pillow next to you. “Better?” you asked. He grunted a response.
You rolled your eyes and reoriented your body so you were spooning him. Your efforts were rewarded by a disgruntled squawk. “What are you doing?”
“Showing you love and affection,” you replied, because - this was a part of the plan, you justified to yourself. It was important for him to feel a soft, nonviolent touch.
He didn’t answer, but he didn’t move, either. You listened to his even breathing, wondering after a while if he’d fallen asleep. You were almost there when he said, “It’s not just about Harrington.”
“Hmm?” you mumbled blearily.
“If it was just about one-upping Harrington, I would’ve left you. You’re way too much trouble to be worth that.”
You grinned into his shoulder. “Love you too, pumpkin,” you drawled, almost entirely out. But you did notice him tense in your grasp, then relax.
You didn’t think too hard about it. You could think too hard about anything, actually, which was probably for the best.
You were an expert hair-braider.
Steve hadn’t explained to you why he’d suddenly started hanging out with a bunch of thirteen-year-olds, but he had, and that meant you did too, sometimes. They had that same super-cliquey vibe that you got from Nancy and Jonathan and Steve sometimes, but Max took to you easily and happily. Probably because she knew what it was like being the odd one out.
So sometimes she came over to your place on her skateboard to hang out. She let you braid her hair and you let her talk about school and video games and comic books and boys and girls. It was nice.
“You’re too good for my brother,” she started one afternoon.
You weren’t aware she knew you two were dating. But, you supposed that was the nature of small towns. “Yeah, probably,” you hummed, weaving a few more strands together.
“Wait, you know?” She twisted in your grasp and you lost the grip on her hair. “Whoops, sorry.”
You shrugged. “I’ll just start over.” You didn’t mind; it was a meditative exercise. You enjoyed moments like this.
“If you know, why are you dating him?” Max demanded.
You weighed how much to tell her. If she were your age, you’d probably play it off with a sex joke, not acknowledge it, but she was a kid. Besides, you trusted Max enough to at least vaguely explain your plan.
You shrugged again. “He asked and I said yes.” It had been incredibly unceremonious - he’d plopped down at the table with you, Steve, Jonathan, and Nancy, and you’d said yes before anyone else could speak. “I didn’t say yes because of who he is now, but it’s who I think he can be.”
“You’re wasting your time,” Max grumbled, crossing her arms.
“Maybe.” It was something you’d considered, and you’d concluded you didn’t care. You smoothed your hands across the bedspread you were sitting on. “But it’s worth a shot, even if it doesn’t work out. And besides, he’s nicer to Steve and to you now.”
She snorted. “He’s nicer to me because I scared the shit out of him,” she replied. “Sorry, it has nothing to do with you.”
“What do you mean?”
She chewed on her lip. Now it was her turn to weigh what to tell you. You knew from her eyes that it wouldn’t be everything, but it’d be enough. “So you remember how Billy beat Steve’s face in?”
How could you forget? He’d been babysitting at the Byers’ place and Billy had come looking for Max, drunk and angry and probably fresh off getting yelled at for Max’s disappearance. You nodded slowly.
“He was going to kill Steve,” she said quietly. “And maybe Lucas. So I -” She winced and pulled her knees up to her chest tightly. She wouldn’t meet your eyes. “Joyce had a needle with some sedatives on the table - don’t ask why, I don’t know,” she lied, but you figured she’d tell you if it was important. “And I stabbed him in the neck and knocked him over. And then I swung a baseball bat between his legs and threatened him to leave all of us alone.” She swallowed. “Does that make me like Neil?”
You pulled her into a hug. “Honey, no,” you promised.
“But you’re - you’re trying to be nice and patient and to make him better.” She sighed. “I just scared him. Threatened to hurt him like Neil does.”
“You were keeping yourself and your friends safe. You’re thirteen, it’s not your job to fix a boy who’s almost a whole adult,” you promised, petting her hair. “It’s not my job, either, but it’s a choice I’m making.”
“He’s a jackass,” Max said with a sniffle.
You laughed softly. “Yeah. But he’s a jackass for a reason, and I think I’m figuring out the reason.”
“I can save you some time; he’s a jackass because his dad’s a jackass.” Max rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t make it okay.”
“No, it doesn’t,” you agreed. “But if I can find the reasons he does things, I think I can get him to stop.”
Max looked unconvinced. “Neil’s never laid a hand on me, he just yells a lot. And says a bunch of awful things. But he hits Billy.”
“Or throws a whiskey glass at his face,” you added sardonically.
She nodded. “Or that. Sometimes when he’s mad at me, he takes it out on Billy. But sometimes Billy makes him even more mad and he forgets he was mad at me. It seems like maybe he does it on purpose?” she asked, like you’d know the answer, and then continued, “But if he’s trying to protect me, then why is he mad at me afterwards? Why does he treat me like shit after stopping Neil from hurting me?”
You rubbed soothing circles on her shoulders. “Those are probably better questions for him than for me.”
“It’s not like he’ll ever be honest with me,” she groused.
“Maybe.” You’d thought that too, but you’d gotten little bits and pieces out of him. “You realize even if he’s trying to take care of you in his own fucked up way, you still get to be mad, right?”
She looked at you dubiously. “You’re not going to tell me that he means well and that I should go easy on him?”
“I mean, he’s still hurting you,” you pointed out. “No matter his intentions, you have a right to be upset about it.”
“Huh.” She sighed. “I’ve seen him take hits for Mom before. He’s worse at hiding that. I think she reminds him of his mom.” She sighed again, longer and louder. “He hates her more than he hates me, but he’s never once let Neil touch her. And Mom says he’s actually a sweet boy because of it, and she just...takes the terrible things he says.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand how. I couldn’t, even if I wanted to.”
“Granted, I don’t think Billy’s tried to kill your mom’s boyfriend,” you replied, “so you have a bit more reason to hate him. Not yet, anyway,” you ammended, because maybe he was going to kill Neil one of these days. It occurred to you that you’d help him if he did, which was a weird sort of feeling. “You don’t have to. You don’t have to just take it, you’re allowed to be upset.” You petted her hair some more. “You always have a right to your feelings, no matter what anyone else says.”
“Neil says feelings are worthless and make you weak.”
“Yeah, well, we’ve already established that the man doesn’t get anything right, so…” She smiled at that, and you smiled back.
There was a banging on the door, forceful and irreverent, that you recognized immediately. “Speaking of,” you groaned.
Max frowned. “I don’t want to go home.” Her hair was still sadly unbraided.
“I could tell Billy I’ll drop you off.”
“I wish, but then everyone’s going to be mad I’m home late. Also Neil’s not allowed to know you exist.” Suddenly Thanksgiving made a bit more sense. “Best case scenario, he’ll use you against Billy. And me, but mostly Billy.”
“(Y/n)!” More pounding on your door.
“I’m coming, christ!” you shouted back. You rolled your eyes. “That boy, I swear…”
“You could break up with him,” Max pointed out.
You laughed. “I could,” you acknowledged.
You threw open the door with more force than necessary and leaned against it. “Here’s your precious cargo,” you teased as Max walked out the door.
“Thanks for taking such good care of her, doll.” Billy grinned, and then he leaned in to shove you up against the doorframe for a long, heated kiss.
Max gagged. “I’ll be in the car,” she declared, and you heard her footsteps recede.
Billy kept kissing you for a good thirty seconds before he pulled away, clearly proud of himself. He didn’t pull too far, though, still crowding your space.
“I know you only do that because you like to make her uncomfortable.” You raised an eyebrow at him.
He laughed. “Maybe,” he breathed across your lips, “but I don’t see you stopping me.” He leaned in again for a second kiss and you let him before shoving him back with a laugh.
“Go home, Billy.” You smiled and patted his cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Can’t wait.” He shot you one last killer grin and a backwards wave, and then tore out of your driveway.
He was playing this like a game just as much as you were, still, but it seemed like the rules had shifted. You definitely didn’t mind, and you found it all the more intriguing.
Billy was pissed you were volunteering at the Snow Ball, and he was being whiny about it. Not where anyone else could see, of course, but he’d learned quickly that wheedling you worked sometimes. Certainly better than yelling.
You were very deliberate about what you let it work for, but you were sure he hadn’t noticed a pattern.
“I promised,” you reminded him again, standing outside the Middle School. He’d come to get you when he dropped off his sister, and was sorely disappointed that you weren’t going to leave with him.
“I have the house to myself,” he replied, saccharine, just an edge of want. “I could make you feel so good, baby.”
“You could also fuck me in the hallways behind the gym,” you snarked back, and his eyebrows went all the way up. “Which is not happening, oh my god. Your parents will still be gone until tomorrow, and if you let Max sleep over with her friends, she’ll be more than willing to give you the house to yourself.”
“Her friends are boys.”
“So?”
“What do you mean, so? And I know for a fact she’s dating the black kid, don’t even try to lie about it, the good for nothing -”
“Shut the hell up.” Your voice was dangerously low. “You don’t get to talk about Lucas like that. You don’t get to talk about anyone like that just cuz they’re not white.”
He held up his hands. “Look, I’m just saying...you can’t deny that the culture is different.”
“Not different enough for you to be a racist jerk about it.”
“What if he gets her pregnant?”
You couldn’t help it, you busted out laughing. “Are you genuinely concerned?”
“Yes!”
“Okay, well, just because you were chasing anything that moved when you were 13 doesn’t mean that’s what’s going on here.” You tried to stifle your laughter so you could actually speak, cuz you could tell Billy was getting more and more frustrated. “Jesus, okay. So clearly you didn’t see the part where Lucas kissed her” - his hackles rose - “and she smiled awkwardly for ten seconds before telling him to never do that again.”
Billy’s forehead creased. “What, you’re telling me they’re not dating?”
“No, I’m just saying Max doesn’t even want to be kissed right now, let alone...anything that would lead to a baby.” You rolled your eyes. “I’d say you’re the one more at risk of early parenthood, darling.”
“It’s different.”
“There you go again with the ‘It’s different.’” You rolled your eyes. “No, it’s not.”
“No, it is. If I knocked a girl up, it’d be just another screw-up in a long line of disappointments. If Max had a baby - a black baby,” he emphasized urgently, “my father would kill her boyfriend and make her watch, kill her, and then kill me for letting it happen. It’d be bad enough with a white boy, but...” He sighed. “He’d kill all three of us.”
His shoulders were tense and you laid your hands on them, rubbing gently. “You mean that literally, don’t you?”
“I’m dead serious.”
“I don’t think you’d let him kill you,” you said softly. “And I think maybe you wouldn’t even let him touch Max or Lucas.”
He snorted. “If Max gets knocked up before graduating high school, I deserve it.”
You blinked. Twice. Three times. “That’s fucked up,” you said finally. “No, you wouldn’t. And if you wouldn’t defend yourself and the kids, then I would.”
He laughed raggedly. “You wouldn’t stand a chance.”
“I’ve seen you naked. I know where all your scars are, and I know where they’re from.” You smiled ruefully. “That’s one hell of a motivator.”
He shook his head and leaned back against the brick wall. “Why do you even care?”
“Well, we’re dating, so it’d be pretty messed up if I didn’t,” you pointed out.
“No one’s ever cared before, of the few that figured it out.”
“See? Messed up.” You sighed. “And even if I hated you with every ounce of my soul, I’d still care, because you deserve better. Because that man made a life and then damaged it and ruined it and twisted it up into a jagged, hurting mess. That’s not fair to anyone. A dad’s supposed to protect you.” You sighed again and looked over at him. “I know why you’re an asshole.”
“Yeah?” he snorted. “And why’s that, doll?”
“Cuz it’s all you know how to be.”
“Huh.” He took out a cigarette and he lit it, taking a drag instead of answering. You reached out, but he didn’t pass it.
“We both know that you’re in this for yourself,” you continued. “It’s about pleasure for you, showing off, stroking your ego.”
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah? Then why are you still here?”
“Because I don’t care if you love me,” you replied, but the words felt...wrong as they slipped off your tongue. “I’m still having fun anyway.”
“You don’t care if I love you back,” he corrected. Your head whipped over to him. “What? You don’t say it, but you’re nice to me when you don’t have to be and you care that my dad treats me like shit and you willingly spend your free time with me. You’re still here arguing with me instead of being inside doing what you said you were going to do fifteen minutes ago. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.”
Every word hit you harder than the last, and you realized he was right. You wouldn’t say you were in love with him, but yeah, somewhere along the line you’d started to genuinely care about his well-being and enjoy his company.
He sat down heavily. “You’re too good for me, you know.” He took a long drag.
You choked. Now there was something you never expected. “I mean, yeah. I just didn’t realize you knew it.” You followed him down to the pavement.
“I’ve known it since the first minute I saw you.” He shook his head. “It pissed me off. The way you looked like you were gonna try and fight me over that thing I said to the freshman. You were so good. You were so fucking good. And you were Harrington’s, and I wanted that.” He didn’t let you protest that you didn’t belong to anyone. “I wanted to run my filthy fucking hands all over you and ruin you. But I didn’t, somehow. And you’re still so fucking good that somehow you can care about a worthless screw-up like me, even though I’ve never done a damn nice thing for you without thinking about myself.”
Well, that was a shitload of information you weren’t anticipating.
“You still did them, though,” you pointed out softly. “You still fought Jeremy Nicolson for calling me a slut, you still brought me my homework when I was sick. The right thing for the wrong reason isn’t the wrong thing.”
“It may as well be.”
There was a long pause. “I hated you when we started dating,” you confessed. Feeling almost ashamed.
He laughed dryly. “I know. That’s why I asked you out. I didn’t think you’d say yes, I just wanted to piss off Harrington. And then you did and it was even better.” He took another drag and blew it towards your face, affecting his signature grin. “Some of the best hate sex I’ve ever had, doll.”
You snorted. Even now, he couldn’t help but fall back on humor and deflection.
“I know you had your reasons for saying yes, same as me for asking. I know you were trying to get inside my head, make me a better person.” He sighed. “Hell, you even let me be with whoever I wanted besides you, even while you put all that time and energy into me.”
“I refuse to consider my permanent indifference to the concept of monogamy some sort of moral success or grand act of kindness.” You raised an eyebrow. “But yeah, I am trying to get you to think about your actions and be a better person.”
“Well, you half-succeeded. You got me to actually look inside myself. It’s just that there’s not anything there worth finding.”
The two of you sat in silence for a while as you rolled it all over in your brain.
“You know, all the things that make me ‘so good?’” You held up air quotes with your fingers. “They’re not traits, they’re skills. I wasn’t always this calm and patient. I had to work at it. You could, too.” You crossed your arms. “Also, I do have bad qualities, you know.”
He laughed dryly again. “I know. You’re stubborn and annoying as hell and you don’t like to listen to other people, and you think you’re so much smarter than me even though I always knew what you were doing.” He sighed, and it was smoky, morose. “You’re still perfect.”
You didn’t know what to say to that.
He pushed himself to his feet. “Have Max stay the night with you. She’d like that. Or with her friends. I don’t care.”
“Where are you going?” you asked, standing up as well.
He shrugged. “Somewhere.” And then he was in his car, and soon after, gone from the parking lot.
You watched him drive away. He wasn’t speeding, which probably freaked you out the most, but it’s not like you could follow him.
You forced yourself to walk back into the building and into the gym full of preteen chaos.
Mike was dancing with a girl you didn’t recognize, which was odd, because you knew everyone in town. You made your way over. “Hey, bud. Who’s this?”
They glanced at each other fearfully, an entirely too dramatic reaction in your opinion, and then back at you. After an uncomfortable silence, the girl said, “Jane. Hopper.”
“Hopper as in Chief Hopper?” you raised an eyebrow.
“Shit!” Mike swore.
“Okay, what the hell?” you asked.
Mike got a quick, calculating look in his eyes, then sighed. “Hopper’s adopting her, but he doesn’t want to tell anyone about it until it goes through and he doesn’t want all the town gossipping.” Jane nodded solemnly.
You snorted. Dramatic kid. “Okay, well, I can keep a secret.”
“Oh.” Jane opened her mouth, like she was about to say something, but Mike cut her off.
“El - I mean, Jane, it’s a figure of speech.” Jane’s eyebrows scrunched up. “It means that you can trust a person, not that you should immediately tell them a secret.” You raised an eyebrow, and Mike directed the last bit at you. “Sorry, she grew up in a - cult.”
“No wonder Hopper doesn’t want the town gossipping.” Poor girl would never hear the end of it. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Jane. Mike, do you know where Max is?”
“What, you can’t pick her out of a crowd?” he snarked. You rolled your eyes. “I dunno. She and Lucas were dancing over by the punch earlier.”
“Thanks, nerd.” You ruffled his hair to a “hey!” and wandered off to go find what was effectively your little sister.
It turned out that she found you. “There you are,” she greeted, dragging Lucas along with her. “Where have you been?”
“Your brother and I had a -” A what? A fight? A talk? An admission of deep and awkward truths? A moment of painful intimacy? You sighed. “I was with Billy. He told me I get custody of you tonight, I’m in charge of what you do.”
Her eyes widened and she looked over at Lucas. “Well...Everyone’s going over to Will’s after to hang out and have a sleepover and I promise we’ll be safe because Mrs. Byers is there and can I go please? And I know they’re all boys but-”
“I’m coming with you, but yeah.” If nothing else, you could hang out with Jonathan. “That sounds like a nice time. Is Jane going to be there?” Max’s mouth made a small ‘o’ shape, so you felt a need to clarify. “Jane Hopper? The chief’s kid?”
Fuck, what if she hadn’t known? But she had to, Mike was making eyes at the girl like they were engaged and there was no way Max could be friends without knowing about that.
She recovered herself. “Yeah, Jane’s going to be there. So I won’t be the only girl.”
“I don’t really care about that.” You thought about Billy’s pregnancy comments. “But that’s nice.”
Lucas was absolutely delighted to have an opportunity to actually ride in a car with Max and hold her hand in the back seat. “How did you convince him to let you take her?” he asked, awed.
“It’s...complicated.” You swallowed. You hadn’t convinced him of anything, ultimately.
Nancy was there, which you supposed made sense considering she was dating Jonathan. “Did you invite Steve?” you asked curiously.
“No.” They looked at each other guiltily. “We didn’t realize you were coming, we didn’t want him to feel...awkward.”
“You could invite him now,” you pointed out. You knew for a fact that his parents were out.
Nancy and Jonathan looked at each other again and you would swear that they could communicate telepathically. Then Nancy nodded. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.”
It was not, however, a good idea for you, because the three of them fit together so perfectly they didn’t need you. And you were figuring some things out, based on the way Steve kept looking at Nancy and Jonathan, and they kept looking at him. You hoped they were figuring it out, too.
You excused yourself to get some water, but after you filled a glass, you promptly tripped over someone’s toy. You braced for impact, but it never came, and you were set gently on your feet again.
Jane’s nose was bleeding.
“What the hell?” you demanded.
“El!” Mike looked horrified.
Jane did not seem to understand. “(Y/n) is not hurt.”
“That’s the problem,” Mike groaned. “Uh, no offense,” he added, glancing over at you.
“None taken. Someone wanna explain to me how the hell Hopper’s adoptive daughter just caught me from across the room?” you demanded. They looked amongst each other, but you reached a conclusion first. “Oh, lord, this has something to do with that stupid week none of you will talk to me about, doesn’t it?” The question was, however, more or less rhetorical. You knew it had to.
“Guys, we have to tell (Y/n) now,” Dustin insisted. “El - Jane did the thing.”
Max exhaled. “Oh, thank god, I’ve wanted to do that this whole time.”
“What the hell’s going on?” Nancy demanded, putting her hands on her hips. You hadn’t even heard her leave Jonathan’s room.
“(Y/n) saw El use her powers,” Will said quietly.
“Ah.” Nancy gave a tiny frown.
“Oh, thank god,” Steve echoed. “(Y/n), I swear I’ve wanted to tell you this for over a year.”
That gave you pause. “Over a year?” You thought back. “You mean when you and Jonathan inexplicably became friends after Will’s reappearance?”
Steve nodded, blushing slightly. “Yeah, then.”
“Okay.” You exhaled slowly. “So I’m gonna guess there’s more to it than ‘Will got lost in the woods for a week and the body belonged to someone else?’” Will nodded. “Okay. Start at the beginning.”
The story went that you had dumped Billy before Christmas.
You were surprised, to say the least, but you figured the fact he was getting into twice as many fights meant that no one thought he’d broken up with you. He was going through girls like potato chips, too.
He was, however, better with Max.
“We came to an understanding,” she told you after school one day. “He leaves me alone now, and I try not to do the things that get Neil mad at him. We actually had a decent conversation the other day.”
You nodded. “That’s good.”
“And when Neil said something rude about Mrs. Sinclair, Billy talked back.” She hugged herself. “He got a black eye for it, but he let me ice it. And I told him I appreciate it.”
You hummed. “Tell him I’m proud of him.” Billy was avoiding you like the plague. He’d still gotten into a couple fights defending your honor, but he made sure to never be physically around you.
“Would you take him back?” she asked curiously.
“I never broke up with him in the first place,” you replied. “He walked away from me.”
It wasn’t an answer. You didn’t want to admit that you missed him.
You’re stubborn and annoying as hell.
“He misses you.”
You snorted. “Yeah?”
“He’s listening to his sad angry music more. And he’s provoking Neil.”
“Again, he walked away from me. He could talk to me any time he wants.”
Max snorted. “You know he won’t. He knows you’re too good for him, but this time he actually cares.” She shrugged. “Not that I care, really,” she lied, “but he’s being really annoying.”
You watched her skate around for a little bit. She’d offered to teach you, but you were pretty sure you’d end up on your ass, so you were content to admire from the sidelines.
“Are you gonna date Steve?” she asked on her next return.
You snorted. “Steve is dating Nancy and Jonathan.”
“Right, but no one is supposed to know that. If you faked dating Steve…”
You’d thought about it, but. “I couldn’t do that to Billy,” you confessed quietly.
“You’re gonna date someone else eventually though?” Max asked, face creasing in concern.
You shrugged. Statistically, that was the most likely outcome. “Probably. Just...it can’t be Steve.”
“Because of his stupid rivalry?” Max rolled her eyes.
“Something like that.” Max didn’t understand, and it wasn’t your place to try to get her to understand. Billy could talk about it whenever he wanted to.
You almost laughed at that. Billy wanting to talk.
Max sighed. “It sucks how things played out.”
“I’d do it again,” you said with conviction.
She raised an eyebrow. “You’re both miserable.”
“Yeah, but you’re not.” You tilted your head. “Once he just...gets this out of his system, he can go back to being the same old Billy Hargrove, now with the added bonus of being less racist and nice to his step-sister.”
Max looked at you, unconvinced. “Uh-huh.” She rolled her eyes. “He’s not going to ‘get it out of his system,’ he’s going to crash and burn. He’s being stupid and reckless and of course he had to go and do this when I was starting to like him.” She groaned.
You shrugged. “Rock bottom’s as good a starting point as any.” You didn’t believe her, anyway, but your point stood.
Billy was just mad he didn’t have anyone to show off anymore. He’d find someone else and get over it. Maybe he’d actually care for them, even.
You didn’t like the way that thought hurt.
Because history liked to repeat itself, you were asleep on the couch with a book on your chest when the late-night banging began. Except this time it was closer to one a.m. than ten p.m.
There was only one person it could be, and he hadn’t spoken to you in...roughly three months, because you refused to count.
You were grumpy from being woken up, and you stomped to the door. You threw it open with a “What the hell are you doing here?” and you were hit by the strangest sense of Deja Vu. There was your ex-boyfriend, bloodied and smelling like whiskey. But it was worse this time, and from the way he stumbled, you knew it was actually his whiskey.
“You’re such an asshole,” you groaned, and ushered him into your house and settled him at your kitchen table. “Why did you come?”
“Missed you,” he mumbled.
Neither of you acknowledged that he wouldn’t have anywhere else to go, anyway. At least he’d walked here; you’d hate to find his Camarro wrapped around a tree in the morning.
You fetched the first aid kit and got out the antiseptic. He was worse this time, which you could tell because his shirt was hanging off him and his torso was mottled with bruises.
“What did he do to you?” you breathed.
Billy shrugged, wincing. “Why are you helping me?” he asked, slurring a little.
“Because I still care about you, dipshit.” You sighed. “Why did you come here if you didn’t expect me to help?”
“Told you. Missed you.” His head lolled a little bit. “Wanted to see you again before I died.”
Your heart clenched. “You’re not dying, drama king. You’re in bad shape, but it’s not that bad.”
He shook his head, then winced. “No, I’m - already dead,” he wheezed. “I cut him with a kitchen knife.”
“Oh.”
“I’m dead, angel. He’s gonna kill me. Just wanted - just wanted to see you again. Ask you to take care of Max.”
Oh, fuck. “Max.”
“It’s okay, she’s locked in her room with her mom. He can’t get her. Can’t get her or Susan.”
“What started all this?” you asked, dabbing at the cut over his eyebrow. He was going to have a scar to match the last one.
He looked almost guilty. “I drank his whiskey.”
“Why?”
“Cuz nothing matters so I may as well be drunk.”
“Christ, I didn’t mean for you to become a nihilist.” You reached out and cupped his cheek. “You matter.”
He laughed at that, ragged and gasping. “God. You’re still...so good.” His head falls back. “He knows about you now. God, I’m so fucking stupid. I’m sorry, doll.”
You’d patched up the worst of it, but he was still a right mess. “How does he know?” you asked distractedly as you helped him to his feet and to the bathroom.
“Told him he was right about me being a worthless screw-up. Told him not even an angel could save me.”
“I was never trying to save you,” you sighed, not bothering with the buttons as you ripped the shirt the rest of the way.
“Coulda fooled me, doll.”
“I was trying to save everyone around you.” You unzipped his stupid tight leather pants that were fashionable and attractive and so annoying right now. “I can’t save you, Billy.”
He did what was probably the concussed equivalent of an attempt at an eyeroll. “Duh. I told you that.”
“No, I mean…” You sighed, pushing him backwards gently until he was sitting in the tub. You turned on the shower spray and the water immediately ran red. “I can’t save you. I can only give you the tools to save yourself.”
He made a noncommittal grunt and looked up at you like a soggy giraffe, all gangly limbs and damp hair. You wanted to kiss him. Christ, how had you fallen this hard for a guy that never cared about you?
“Max - she really likes you,” he started. “You’re better for her than I ever was. I mean, of course you are…” He sighed. “Take care of her, okay? Fix what I fucked up.”
“Billy, you’re not fucking dying.” You took his face in your hands. “I’m not going to let him hurt you, okay? I promised. I promised you.”
He shook his head, splashing droplets. “No, I promised you. He’s going to come here, (Y/n). He’s going to come here and I’m going to make sure he doesn’t hurt you.”
“Shut up.” You were crying and you didn’t want to be. “Shut up.”
“You still love me?” he asked, recognition dawning on his features. “Even after everything?”
“Of course I love you, asshole; it’s not like I could stop.”
He looked unhappy with that fact. “I hoped -” He stopped and shook his head again. “Well. I love you too. Sorry.”
Your heart stopped. “What?”
“I’m sorry. You deserve better than my love. It’s broken and twisted and I don’t know what to do with it.” He shrugged. “Not that it matters now.”
“It matters,” you breathed, and then you kissed him, and it tasted like cigarettes and whiskey and the blood from his lips and your hair was getting wet and you didn’t care.
He looked at you desperately as you pulled away. “I want you so badly,” he confessed.
Your heart twisted. “I’m not sleeping with you when you’re wasted and concussed. You can’t - this is an extenuating circumstance, and you’re going to wake up in the morning and hate me.”
He laughed wetly. “So fucking good,” he whispered. “No, I want you. I want - I want you to choose me.” He stared up at you earnestly. “I want to belong to you.”
You laughed through your tears. “God, you’re so drunk. If you even remember this in the morning, you’ll be so pissed.”
“I won’t,” he said, though you weren’t sure if he meant he wouldn’t be pissed or he wouldn’t remember.
You didn’t know what the point of this conversation was. It didn’t change anything, even if it changed everything, and you were sure he would forget it all anyway. He said he loved you, but he was drunk and concussed and coming off an adrenaline high and you were taking care of him. Of course he thought he loved you.
You left Billy in the bathtub, confident for the moment he wouldn’t drown, and went to dial the police.
“Hawkins P.D.,” said the answering machine, because apparently no one was in at one a.m.
“Hi there,” you started. “I’d like to report a domestic…”
It wouldn’t do anything. Neil would be perfectly civil and acceptable in front of the cops. But at least someone could check on Max and Susan.
When you walked back to the bathroom, you found Billy asleep with his head back on the tile. It was cute. Your heart ached.
“C’mon, baby.” You turned off the shower and helped him to his feet.
He had a couple broken ribs and a concussion on top of the scrapes, cuts, and bruises, but you also knew Billy would be pissed if you took him to the hospital. The hell were you supposed to say, anyway? If you told them it was Neil, everything would just get worse.
...Shit. You’d called the cops. You groaned, careful not to jostle his dead weight. All you’d thought about was getting someone to check on them. God, you should’ve called Steve.
But there was nothing you could do about that, so you helped one soggy Billy Hargrove into sweatpants and got his wet hair on your pillow. This time when you curled up around him, he snuggled into it.
“I know I’m not worth it,” he whispered. “But I’m glad you’re wasting your time on me, anyway.”
You smiled into his neck. “Make me happy and it’s worth it,” you replied, but he was already asleep.
When you’d woken up the next morning, he was gone, because of course he was. You didn’t know what you’d expected.
You also had no idea if he remembered that night, because for about two weeks, you hadn’t seen any sign of him.
“Is Neil home?” you asked Max one day after school. “I want to yell at Billy to stop avoiding me.”
She looked back at you, eyes slowly widening. “I thought he was staying with you. If he comes back, Neil’s going to put his head through the wall.”
You winced. “Yeah, I heard about the knife thing.”
“So you heard he called Neil a clueless, washed-up, domineering racist with no joy but hurting others?”
You blinked slowly. “No. No I did not.” Several of those words and phrases were things you’d called Billy at one point or another. Not in a fight - the two of you never fought, you just danced in angry circles - but during various essays on the nature of his character. “Huh. He was listening.”
“When I heard the front door slam, I knew he was going to find you and I was relieved.” Her shoulders tensed with worry. “What happened?”
You gave her a two sentence summary, leaving out all the dumb drunk things he said and the part where he said he loved you, and ending with the fact he was gone when you woke up.
She rolled her eyes. “Typical.”
“So where the hell is he?” you sighed. “If he’s not with either of us.”
“Man, I’m so glad you know about El, because now I can just ask her to find him for us.” Max dragged you over to your car. “C’mon, let’s go to Hopper’s cabin.”
You drummed your fingers on the steering wheel as you drove. “So Neil knows about me now?” you asked, watching as a late season snow flurry spattered on your windshield.
Max nodded. “He keeps calling you ‘That Boy’s Angel’ all derisively. I think he took Billy at his word that you were perfect and not even you could love him or save him, so he’s not going to bother you.”
Jesus christ. You hadn’t meant to be elevated to this level. You were just...a person. A person who saw what he could be and wouldn’t take shit from the man he was. You could love him, but you’d never said you could save him.
Max seemed to be able to read your thoughts. “For the record, I’ve tried telling him that you weren’t trying to save him, you just wanted him to be nicer. He doesn’t...he’s damaged.” She sighed, sounding much older than thirteen. “He doesn’t know how to deal with any of these emotions healthily.”
You snorted, reaching out to pat her head blindly. “How’d you get so smart, hmm?”
“Well someone has to be in that house.” She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling from the praise.
Jane opened the door before you two could knock, which was slightly unsettling. You weren’t sure if it was because she was psychic or because she was lonely.
“Hi, (Y/n). Hi, Max.”
“Is Hop home?” Max asked.
“No.”
“Perfect.” Jane stepped aside to let you and Max into the house. “We need your help finding Billy.”
Jane scrunched up her eyebrows. “Billy is bad.”
“Yeah.”
“He hurt Steve. And you.”
“Yes.”
“Why look?”
You wondered how to explain complex moral theory to a kid who grew up in a lab. “He’s trying to be good,” you settled on, then added, “I think. I’m worried about him.”
Jane shrugged. “I trust you.”
She tied a blindfold on and Max turned the tv to static. It didn’t look like a whole lot from the outside, except the nosebleed, but when Jane tugged off the blindfold, she said, “Quarry.”
You rolled your eyes. “Of course he is. Melodramatic.” You sighed. “Okay, well, I’m going to him.”
Max rolled her eyes. “We’re coming too.”
You shook your head. “Just me.” You didn’t know what the hell you would find. You didn’t want to risk their presence.
“He’s my brother.” Max stared you down. “And Jane has powers. We’ll be fine.”
You continued having a staredown until Jane declared, “Wasting time” and walked out to stand next to your car.
You threw your hands in the air. “Fine!”
It was an easy drive to the quarry, but you opted to pick your way up by foot. It was dangerous and stupid to try to bring a car up there.
So of course Billy had done it.
“Hey, asshole!” you shouted at the guy sitting on the hood of his electric blue Camarro.
He groaned. “What are you doing here?”
“What the fuck do you think I’m doing here?” You rolled your eyes. “You went missing for two fucking weeks.”
“And why’re my sister and” - Billy squinted - “a kid I don’t know here?”
You shrugged. “They wouldn’t let me leave without them.” You hadn’t wanted to bring them but like hell you were gonna admit that now. You were a united front.
He laughed harshly, puffing away on his cigarette. “Sorry to disappoint, sweetheart, but I already told you. I’m a dead man. You can’t save me - there’s nothing worth saving.”
You huffed. “And I told you I’ve never been trying to save you, just help you grow.”
He shrugged.
You stole the cigarette right from his fingers and took a drag yourself. “You’re being stupid.”
“He’s gonna fucking kill me, doll. There’s no point going to school anyway.”
“You say that like there ever was.”
You whipped around and saw a man you assumed to be Neil Hargrove, based on how Max and Billy tensed.
“What are you doing here?” Max demanded.
“Same thing as you, Maxine. Looking for your idiot brother.” He inclined his chin towards you. “I figured when he talked about his ‘angel,’ I just had to find this (Y/n) and follow until I found Billy. And it worked.”
Fuck. You’d led Neil right to him.
Well, you had promised to protect them all. You took a step forward, planting yourself in his immediate reach. “I can’t let you hurt him.”
Neil laughed unkindly. “He was right about you. You really are too good for him.”
“He’s too good for you,” you spat back.
“My son? Who gets into fights and fails his tests and fucks every girl he meets? Too good?” He snorted, taking a step forward. “Please, do explain that one.”
“He works hard when it matters to him and he’s loyal and defensive. Yeah, he starts stupid fights and acts like a fool, but you made him this way. Where do you think he learned his anger from? Where do you think he got his inability to process his emotions?”
“He doesn’t need emotions, he needs discipline.”
“No, he has that. He just needs something to care about to use it, and you’ve made sure he doesn’t have any.”
“He had you and it doesn’t seem to have done anything.”
“It did a lot.” You glanced back at Billy. “He’s going to be a good man.”
“No, he’s not.” Neil sighed, and he almost sounded sympathetically exhausted. “Step aside and let me handle this with my son.”
“No.” You stood your ground.
He sighed again, and took a menacing step towards you. When you didn’t move, he shoved you roughly to the side.
You stumbled. It wasn’t your proudest moment by far, and as you hit the ground, you looked up in horror to see him advancing on Billy and Max.
Then you heard a sickening crack and he dropped.
Max screamed.
“What the fuck just happened?” Billy demanded, eyes wide.
You crept closer to see his neck bent at an unnatural angle. “Jane, did you…?”
“Yes.” She nodded simply.
Jesus christ the teen had killed a man. You knew she’d done it before but it was something else to see in front of you. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
“Why?” she blinked owlishly. “He was going to hurt you. And Max.” She paused. “And Billy, who is bad, but who you like.”
You didn’t have an answer besides “Murder is bad.” You said as much, but she remained unconvinced.
Maybe you should’ve taken the time to talk about moral theory earlier.
You started laughing.
Billy glared at you. “What’s funny about this?”
“Back when we were dating, I thought you might kill your dad. And that I’d help.” You snorted. “I did not imagine this.” You raked a hand through your hair. “Okay, so Hopper’s kid who isn’t even supposed to exist just snapped a man’s neck without touching him. The man in question is resident asshole Neil Hargrove, who has done serious harm to two people I care about.”
You peered over the edge of the quarry to the lake below. Then you looked at Billy. “So tragic he accidentally fell and broke his neck.”
Billy nodded slowly. “A shame,” he echoed. Then he nudged Neil’s body over to the edge of the quarry and made sure it fell head first.
You looked around between the other three. “And we are never going to talk about this, right?”
They all nodded slowly.
“Cool.” You exhaled slowly. “I’m going to take Jane home. Max, you go with Billy, okay?”
She didn’t even fight it, just nodded numbly, and he put his arm around her to help her into the car. You watched them drive off before you picked your way back across the rocks.
The Chief was back when you got to Jane’s cabin. Luckily he was just arriving, or else your ass probably would’ve been toast.
“(Y/n),” he demanded slowly. “What the hell is this?”
You shook your head. “I think we should go inside, Chief.”
After the first sentence of your explanation, he stopped you and microwaved a cup of cold coffee until it steamed. Only then did he gesture for you to continue, looking absolutely exhausted.
He sighed more and more throughout your tale. “You couldn’t just leave the Hargrove kid well enough alone, could you?” he asked rhetorically. You shrugged. “Okay, well, I’m sure I’ll get the call about a body in a day or two, and it’ll look like a suicide.” He glanced back at Jane in front of the TV. “Did you tell her she can’t just kill people?”
“I tried.” You held up your hands helplessly. “I don’t think it worked.”
Hopper exhaled slowly. “This was not a talk I expected I’d ever have to have as a father,” he muttered, seemingly more to himself than to you.
You swallowed guiltily. “I’m really sorry, Chief.” You knew this was at the very least a mountain and a half of paperwork.
He sighed again, scrubbing his hands across his face. “If it makes that girl’s life better, I don’t know how much I can complain,” he said tentatively. “And maybe the boy will wise up now.”
“I’m trying.” You gave a lopsided grin.
“You’re sure he won’t say anything?” He gestured over towards his daughter, still absorbed in her soap opera.
With more certainty than Billy probably deserved, you nodded. But then, his dad was gone. Why would he say anything?
“I should get going,” you sighed. It was getting late, and you needed to check on Max. And Billy, assuming he’d let you.
“Yeah, you should. Drive safe, kid.” He patted your shoulder. “Thanks for looking out for her.”
It felt wrong to accept his thanks, seeing as you were the one who’d dragged Jane into danger in the first place, but you nodded anyway as you headed out.
It took Susan Hargrove almost two days to report her husband missing. It took another four for the body to actually turn up.
Officially a suicide. He jumped.
The funeral was rushed. Billy didn’t show up, but you did, and you held Max’s hand even though she wasn’t sad. Her mother thanked you for coming, for always taking care of her little girl, and she didn’t even pretend to cry in front of you.
Life went on.
Billy gave it a week after the discovery of Neil’s body to move back into his house. You knew this because of Max, not because of him. He was still avoiding you.
But you saw him at school. You saw his shoulders lighter, his smiles a little less mean. He got into fewer fights. He still fought, because he was still Billy, and he spent more days in detention than not, but it was better. You saw it get better, day by day,
You still missed him, but it seemed like your original plan was actually working, and you tried to focus on that. Nancy, Jonathan, and Steve always made sure you never felt like a fourth wheel, and you spent a lot of time with the Party. Hopper asked you to babysit sometimes. You and Steve were graduating in a couple weeks. Keeping your mind off of things should’ve been easy.
Should’ve been.
You were sitting on your front porch and looking up at the sky, trying not to think about the way your mother’s face had looked as she told you that they wouldn’t be able to make it to your graduation. The Harringtons wouldn’t be there, either.
Ms. Byers promised she would. For you and for Steve. The one good thing from the past few months was you understood why you felt left out, and knowing everything made that feeling go away. You’d gotten something of a family out of all of it.
You were still lonely, though.
The loud roar of an engine came closer and closer and your heart jump-started and tripped over itself cuz there was only one damn car in Hawkins that made that sound.
“What the hell are you doing here?” you asked as he slammed his car door shut, waltzing up to the front steps. A smile tugged at the edges of your lips. “Finally gonna beg me to take you back?”
“Something like that.” He gave a smile of his own in turn and clicked his lighter for yet another cigarette. He took a long drag. “I’m leaving.”
Your face fell. That hadn’t been what you were expecting. “We graduate in two weeks,” you pointed out.
He snorted. “Yeah, yeah. Not tomorrow, I’m leaving when we’re done.” He gestured expansively. “There’s nothing here for me in this shit town.”
Not even you. “Where will you go?” you asked, crossing your arms over yourself.
“Back to Cali probably.” He rolled his shoulders, and his curls traveled over them. You missed your hands in his hair. “Start over. Try to get it right this time.”
Character growth, then. What you’d hoped for from the beginning. You should’ve felt good about it, and you did, but your chest still ached.
You snatched the cigarette from his lips, getting a smile, and took a long drag. “That sounds like a good plan.” You concentrated on the smoke as you blew it out. “Thanks for telling me.”
He smirked lightly, like he was proud of himself for something you didn’t know yet. “Figured I oughta give you some time to prepare.”
You snorted. “I’m not that attached to you,” you snarked, and his face fell for just a second. “So what, you come to ask me to hook up one last time before you go?” You passed the cigarette back.
“Come with me,” he replied instead, taking the cigarette back from your mouth. Your lips tingled where his fingers brushed.
“What?” You couldn’t possibly have heard him right.
But he said it again. “Come with me.” He took a step closer to you, leaning in to bracket your body. “You wanted me to get better. I am. You’re the best fucking thing that ever happened to me, doll, and I’d have to be braindead to not at least try holding on.”
You snorted, but your heart was pounding. “What, you think you suddenly deserve me now?” You wouldn’t abide his ego.
“Hell no.” He rolled his eyes. “I dunno if I ever will. But…” He sat down on the steps, and you sat beside him. “You said, ‘Make me happy and it’s worth it.’”
“I thought you were asleep when I said that,” you breathed. “And you were drunk, and concussed. How the hell do you remember that?”
“As if I could forget.” He smiled tentatively. “And I did once, I made you happy and you had fun, even when I was self-absorbed and racist and stupid.” He blew out another stream of smoke. “So let me try again? You say no and I walk away like this never happened. But I want you to say yes.”
The only thing you had waiting for you in the fall was community college. Your summer looked like an empty house and fourth-wheeling Steve-Nancy-Jonathan. California sounded good.
“I can’t save you,” you reminded him.
He laughed. “The little girl who killed my dad did that. But I know, I have to save myself and all that.” He smirked.
“You’re not magically better, either,” you pointed out. “You still have a temper and you say stupid shit.”
“And you call me on it. You stand up for yourself.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you if you don’t actually care about me.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m in love with you, isn’t it?” He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “You don’t have to decide tonight or anything. I just wanted to ask.”
But the answer was yes. You were going to go with him.
You stole the cigarette out of his mouth, puffed one last time, and then ground it under your boot. You tangled your hands in his hair - god, you’d missed that - and you kissed him long and slow and deep. He melted into you, relieved.
When you pulled away from him, you beamed. “Thank you for giving me a couple weeks to pack.”