Fallout || Stranger Things [2]

twenty-eight || drones and drawings

Tate's nose crinkled as she smiled. "I'm not going anywhere." She tilted her head a little before lightly snapping one of his short curls. "Unlike your hair. Sorry about that. I couldn't help myself even when I was comatose."

He laughed, running his own hand through his hair. "You never could resist the hair." He ruffled the top curls. "I don't mind it, really. Steve gets to be the resident mullet holder now."

"How's school been for you guys?" She rested her head back on the sofa, absently clinging to his arm just in case he might slip away. "I know that wasn't something we really talked about...before, I guess. My dad didn't guilt you at all, did he?"

"No," Billy said with a light shake of his head, "your dad's been great. Too great, really, but I like my classes. More than I thought I would, honestly. College was never a thought so there weren't expectations, I guess. Steve's definitely having a good time. I think he's made up for the damage I did to his ego in high school."

"Did you pick a major yet?" she asked with a brow wiggle.

Billy hummed, tilting his head to the side. "I guess that depends on where we're going."

Tatum's lips parted as her eyes flickered across his face. She lifted her head. "Billy."

"I know IU's too close to Hawkins," he replied. "I don't care about where I go to school. I'll go wherever you are."

Tate chewed on the inside of her bottom lip as she reached up a hand to cup his face. "Really?" she asked, brushing her thumb along his cheekbone.

"Are you kidding?" Billy asked through a laugh, pressing a hand over hers. "Do you really think I care about what name's on the top of my diploma when I'm sitting here with you and not at your grave in Hawkins cemetery?"

Her cheeks ached as the same sunshine from the summer before beamed in her chest. She shook her head gently as she studied his eyes. "All those nights of dreaming about you and you're still somehow better."

"I've only ever been better because of you," he replied, tucking a wave of hair behind her ear.

Tate's smile twisted softly as a tear slipped down her cheek, but she was unable to beat Billy to catching it with a knuckle. "Sorry," she murmured as he wiped it away.

"Don't be sorry," Billy said with a gentle laugh. "Just tell me where we're going and I'm there. No question." He tipped her chin up. "No contest."

"I love you," she whispered as he rested his forehead against hers. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you that enough. I'm sorry I was scared to say it in front of my friends. I'm sorry I-"

Billy's lips curved into a smile as he pressed them to Tate's, silencing even her breath before she eased and kissed him back. He pulled away when only the overhanging hum of the generators was left. "I love you, too," he said quietly. "And just being able to say that to you again is everything I've wanted since July. I don't need anything else. Just you."

Tate's eyes squeezed tight as his hands held her face, a dam broken as tears cascaded down her cheeks. She cupped her hands over his, breathing in is as if she could take his gentle energy and keep it to remind herself that it still existed in the world. "There's no way I'm not dreaming in that prison right now. This can't be real."

"I'm right here," he told her softly, swiping his thumbs along her cheeks. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm not interested in letting you out of my sight any time soon, I'm damn sure about that. You'll be sick of me."

Tate laughed gently as another tear slipped down her face. "Not a chance." Her eyes pinched shut as he kissed her forehead, a smile burning through despite the tears. "I didn't..." She breathed in as she opened her eyes to Billy's full attention. "I didn't want the music to scare you. I didn't mean to make you hate the songs."