grace | billy hargrove [#1]

29.

a/n: little disclaimer for this chapter; the things that happened in billy's past don't align with the stranger things universe. i have no idea what really happened and i am just making it up to fit my story. also; thank you all so so so much for 14k you guys are the bestest xoxo

☆ G R A C E ☆

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"I know what you told me
I know that it's all over and
I know I can't keep calling"

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My eyes shot open at the same as there was a knock on my bedroom door. I sighed, sitting up and running a hand through my hair. The nightmare was back tonight. It was still the same, but know I was in Billy's car and we were laughing together. When we parked in front of the movie theater, he turned into Peter again. I wondered if the dreams were ever going away.

I stepped out of my bed and walked over the door to see who was behind it. I rubbed my eyes before opening the door, revealing the familiar mop of blonde curls. To say I was surprised, would be a lie. It was evident he would be coming to me tonight.

"Hey, did I wake you?" he asked. I shook my head and walked back to the bed, leaving the door open so he could walk into the room.

"Not really, I was already up. Are you okay?" I asked him. He sighed and sat on the edge of the bed.

"I'm not sure," he said quietly. His gaze moved to the window. I could almost hear his brains thinking over and over again. Something was on his mind, it was nagging him. If we were still together I would've made him tell me, but that seemed impossible now. I had no right.

So, I stayed quiet. I crawled under the covers and laid on my right side so I could still face him. The light of the moon caressed his face perfectly. His cheekbone stood out and his plump lips were slightly parted. When I looked at him, all I could see was pure beauty. A man who was hurt by many and, sadly, loved by few.

"Did you have a nightmare?" he asked me. I closed my eyes and winced as I thought about the dream. "You did, didn't you?" I didn't even need to answer him, he could read me from afar. He would always see what was going.

"I don't want to talk about it," I whispered. He nodded as if he understood. He slipped onto the bed and laid down next to me, one arm under his head.

"I had one too," he told me. My head snapped up at him. He looked straight ahead, his eyebrows arched. I didn't say anything when he started telling. "It always starts at my house. We're together, laying on the bed. You are telling me a story about your childhood while your head is on my chest. It's peaceful until he comes in."

He stopped talking, breathing in and out. It was obvious that it had a big effect on him. He looked at me before continuing. "He starts to shout and throw my stuff around. He breaks everything, including the mirror. In a moment, you stand up and try to defend me. He-..." he sniffs and wipes his eyes. At that moment, I saw he was crying. "He lashed out at you and slaps you right across the cheek. It takes me a moment to realize what happened, but before I can do something everything turns black. That's when I wake up,"

Almost naturally, I laid my hand on his arm, giving it a soft squeeze. I wanted to reassure him that something like that would never happen, but I couldn't find the words to process what was happening. Even though I didn't share my nightmare with him, he did it with me and that was something special. He opened up to me.

"I'm sorry," was all I said. I leaned my head against his shoulder. Now that he had shared his insecurities, I had a feeling that I needed to share mine. Even though he might get upset about it. "You were in mine too."