𝑺𝒉𝒆s 𝒈𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒌𝒊𝒍𝒍
Ada Sommers; always up for a good time
Billy Hargrove; a good time
So what happens when they become the drug that they just can't quit? When Hawkins' heartbreak meets the boy who's a master at her o...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
*
It started with an uncomfortable sigh from her lips as she slept. And as her mind twisted and sent her down a distasteful path of dreams, she soon grew uncomfortable.
It felt like every nightmare she's had before, wrapped themselves up together like a present she'd unfold now.
She was back to being fourteen, shaking as her father held a gun to his head, and the clicks the weapon would make when he pulled the trigger and no bullet was there yet, echoed and rang in her ears.
She was eighteen again, at the mercy of a monster that hide behind the face of the boy she loved. The screams that came from her raw throat, they echoed in the dingy warehouse as she begged and pleaded for her safety, cried with no shame just for her freedom.
Billy felt her side of the bed slightly dip back and forth as Ada started to toss and turn. Still half asleep, not fully comprehending what was happening, he just turned away from her body. It was common for her to act restless, even in her sleep. But what he didn't know was that she began to sweat, fear overwhelmed her. July fourth, 1985, replayed on a sick and haunting loop, morphing into something far more horrific.
He started to grasp the fact that something was wrong when he heard her soft cries, an incoherent mumble from her lips. Billy turned back to face her, slowly propping himself up. Gentle handed, he held the side of her sweaty face. "Ada?"
She seemed to only cry harder.
"Adaline, hey, wake up."
The sound of his voice startles her awake, and she sits up, confused, trying to process exactly where she was. She saw his face through the dark, making her pull away in remembrance of the Billy that once was.
"Ada...it's just me."
That hoarse morning voice, so smooth yet rugged around the edges.
Lip quivering, she slightly breathes heavy before collapsing into his bare shoulder, breathing in the scent of his skin. His toned arms grabbed her, pulling her to sit across his lap. She draped across him like velvet, shivering as his rough hands smooth down her legs and back.
That's how she stayed for the next five minutes, hands sliding to the nape of his neck, grasping his hair to remind herself where she was, that he was real. She thought about how it's finally grown out the perfect amount since his haircut, just long enough at the bottom for her fingers to slide through it, long enough on top that pieces could still messily fall onto his forehead.
It was familiar enough, but still distinguished the fact that he was older now.
After the first few rounds of nightmares he has experienced with her, he's learned that it was better if he just kept quiet, that all she wanted was the sound of simple breathing and his steady heartbeat.
