Wendy Walter isn't one to trust easily. The walls she surrounds herself with tower into the skies and don't open up for just anyone, but maybe, just maybe, Steve Harrington has cracked the code.
STEVE HARRINGTON
STRANGER THINGS
DEATHLIES 2019
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three ! 'you and me' - iii. petrichor; keaton henson -
By the time Saturday night rolls around, Wendy is absolutely bone-tired. All she wants to do is sleep. Eat, sleep, watch a few episodes of whatever shitty realty show is airing that day, and sleep again.
But she already promised Billy she would come over to watch horror movies all night with him. It wasn't that she particularly enjoyed horror films, but she'd hardly seen Billy lately so she was willing to do almost anything with him if it meant spending time in his company.
They were halfway through the second movie of the evening when a knock on his bedroom door makes the both of them jump a mile.
Wendy's cackling cuts short when the door opens and reveals a pissed-off Mr Hargrove standing there with his hands on his hips, mouth pulled thin with rage.
"You forgot to pick up your sister again!" The father says, simmering with anger, spitting with fury.
Her mouth goes dry; Billy steps out into the corridor and closes the door behind him.
Wendy tries not to listen. She really does. But it's hard not to when she knows what's happening. When she knows the pain and the abuse he endures. When she hears the slap of a hand across the son's cheek, she squeezes her eyes shut, tears leaking, dripping down her temples and into the inky black of her hairline.
Only does she open her eyes when the door creaks open once more, and Billy comes in.
Neither of them say a thing.
They don't have to.
Wendy pulls back the covers of his bed and the two of them curl into one another. Hide from the big bad world beneath the sheets. Foreheads pressed together.
Billy lets out a shaking breath as he tries to centre himself. To recompose and become the bantering friend Wendy deserves. After all she's been through, she doesn't need his troubles on top of it.
Without a word, Wendy brushes the tears from his cheeks with her thumbs and cups his cheeks.
"One day," she whispers, her breath a breeze of chocolate and coffee, "we're gonna get out of this shit hole. Me and you, Bill, me and you. And we'll be happy."
"When?" His wet lashes flutter open; oceans of blue with all the depth and none of the hope flatten her.
"As soon as we can," She replies, shuffling her body closer. His arms lock around her middle, drawing her even closer, seeking her warmth. "We work the summer. We save our money. We say our goodbyes and then we're out of here, alright?"
He nods his head slightly.
"I have to go and get Max," He says after a few beats of silence. When he draws himself from the bed, he is as recentred as possible.
"Okay," Wendy sits up, drags a hand through her dark hair.
"And," he hesitates a moment, "you'll still be here when I get back, right?"
"Of course," She replies. "Just don't take too long or I might be asleep by the time you're back."
Billy rolls his eyes at her but says nothing more before he slips out of the room once more, leaving her in the wake of the night's turn.
And that wave swallows her whole. Dragging her down, drowning her. She sinks down into the covers, seeking the warmth Billy left behind, wishing he'd come back sooner.
Though, when he finally does, Wendy is fast asleep, cheeks still wet with tears.
She stirs when he crawls in beside her, nuzzling into him. Though he is not usually one for cuddles, he will always make an exception for Wendy, especially on nights like these. Nights where it truly does feel like the world is against them.
As if they're the only thing the other has left.
"We should go to England," Wendy mumbles into his chest.
"What?" He peers down at her, not quite understanding her muffled voice.
"When we leave, we should go to England," She repeats after drawing back enough to be heard. "You'd like it there, I promise." Her tone is soft and woven with a sleepiness she would not shake until the morning came.
It's in hours like these, the gentle hours, that Billy wonders how he managed to become entangled with a girl like her. So familiar, and yet so different.
When he says nothing, mainly because he's too busy listening to her voice than listening to her words, she continues, "Or we could go to L.A. I know you miss it. We could spend every free hour at the beach."
"I'd like that," He says quietly in fear of shattering the dream. "And we'll never come back to this fucking town ever again."
"You couldn't pay me to spend anymore time in this bloody town than I have to."
Billy lets out a puff of air, the best he can do to show his amusement, and pulls her right into him. "Just you and me, Wendy, you and me."
"Just you and me," She repeats, sinking.
-
838 words 22.3.20
a short update but i thought it would be distasteful to add another scene after this one
