Fallout || Stranger Things [2]

one || boxes and belittlement

All he did know was that he wanted Tatum.

His father used to tell him that he always wanted what he couldn't have.

Some things don't change.

Billy checked his watch after he sealed lucky box number seven, thankful for the time that flashed back at him. He made several trips to get all of the filled boxes into his car, barely enough room left for himself to fit comfortably in the driver's seat.

A wave of nausea rolled over him as he kicked the car to life, pulling away from the curb and heading for the Rivers residence.

For once, the anxiety he was riddled with wasn't about Tatum.

It was about seeing his mother for the first time in nearly a decade.

Something of which he wouldn't have done if Tatum hadn't brought it up all those months ago.

And there she was, pinballing around the back of his head and rising the guilt in his chest so high that he could taste bile.

Billy rested an elbow on the window ledge, letting his fingers hold his head as he drove from one residential area to the next, passing through town without acknowledging much of anything.

His car slowly squeaked up outside of the infamous house where he had spent so much of his time in the past year, his eyes darting around the face of the home that was lacking the warmth it used to. A U-Haul truck was parked where Elena's car usually sat, all of the vehicles squished to one side of the driveway and nearly spilling out onto the street.

Billy slid out of his camaro, pocketing his keys as he took a deep sigh. He walked up between the stream of vehicles instead of cutting straight across the grass, and although he didn't acknowledge his reasoning, he found himself stopped at the dormant Jeep wedged at the front of the line of cars.

If cars could talk.

He ran his hand along the hood of the Jeep, fingers imprinting in the dust that had collected on the surface.

"I can't bring myself to drive it."

Billy closed his eyes, keeping himself from physically jumping at the English accent that voiced behind him. He looked over his shoulder, hand still attached to the vehicle.

Ben stood with his hands pocketed in his jeans, so different from the tactically dressed version of himself that ran into the mall minutes before his sister died in front of him. Stubble had begun to grown on his cheeks and chin. His eyes were sunken in, the lack of sleep radiating off of him. "I know she wouldn't care. She probably would hate this beautiful thing just sitting here in the driveway, but I can't do it yet."

The last time that he drove Jolene was hours after Tatum's body was wheeled away from the mall and his hands were stained with her blood.

He hadn't touched it since.

"Are you guys taking it with?" Billy asked, finally lifting his fingers from the dusty surface.

Ben nodded, his minimal smile telling. "How could we not?"

Keep it warm for her.

Billy blinked away the thought, running a hand through his hair. "Is my mom here?"

The reformed Soviet motioned over his shoulder, turning back towards the house. "Feeling okay?"

"Okay is relative," he replied, pocketing his hands for safety as he followed Ben inside the house.