Warnings: mentions of physical child abuse and injuries. Then a touch of much needed fluffffff.
Word Count: 3.8k
Author's Note: Billy's unexplained absence at the pool is finally clarified. Please heed warnings. This chapter is heavier, for canon-compliant reasons. :( I want my sweet Billy happy and loved and it's coming. Please please let me know your thoughts. Feedback and reblogs help authors feel appreciated and more motivated to write. FYI. :) Love you all!!
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Previously:
"I'll see you tomorrow? You're working, right?"
Some sort of winged creature had taken flight in your stomach.
"Yup," you confirmed, a little too giddy. "I'll be here. See you then."
Climbing out of the car, you walked toward your bike and then watched as Billy offered a wave and then peeled out of the parking lot.
That had gone...surprisingly well, you thought as you climbed on your bike and pedaled home. You were curious what Billy was trying to say earlier, but hopefully you'd be able to find out when you saw him at work the next day.
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Except you didn't.
Billy wasn't at work on July 5th, contrary to what he had said the night before. From your spot at the Snack Shack, all you could see was that one of the other lifeguards was filling in for him. It was news for more than just you, however, as you could see the disappointment on the faces of Mrs. Wheeler and Company when someone other than Billy walked out the locker room door. Blech.
During your lunch break, you might have peeked at the lifeguard work schedule that was posted in the manager's office. Just in case perhaps Billy was mistaken and forgot he was off today. But no. He was originally scheduled the entire week.
Huh.
Getting back to work, you tried to keep your thoughts from Billy but it was damn near impossible. After the night you had together, you almost had hoped that there might be something between you. Something...romantic? You scarcely allowed yourself to believe it. That the Great Billy Hargrove could possibly feel the same way that you do.
Billy was incredibly handsome and charming when he chose to be. That was obvious to anyone with eyes. However, it was the past few weeks of closing together and moments of vulnerability that had you falling for him. That realization hit you like a sledgehammer as you worked that afternoon. So much of your job had become second nature, serving food and filling cups with soda, that you had way too much time to overthink the previous night and the weeks before it.
Maybe Billy was just a nice guy under the mask of asshole behavior. You couldn't have been the first to get to see that side of him. After hours of letting it all roll around in your head, you decided that you could probably live with just being friends with Billy. Getting to know him had been the highlight of your summer so far and you didn't want to lose him entirely all because of a stupid crush.
Closing by yourself was a much more boring endeavor without Billy. Katie had roped Freddy into staying late and helping her finish all the end of day tasks. Mostly you ignored them until you overheard Katie's rather loud whining about her changed schedule.
"Fucking Billy calling in sick with no warning. I mean, what the hell?" Katie yelled toward Freddy as she re-arranged the lounge chairs. "I had plans for tonight but I got called in." You could hear the pouting in her voice.
You rolled your eyes. Billy had taken the closing shifts almost exclusively for most of the summer. Could she really not help out just this once without complaint? And Billy was sick. The thought made your stomach clench with concern. He had been just fine the night before. Was it something contagious? You were in close proximity for a few hours together and you felt fine. So strange.
All you could do was hope that it was a short-term illness. For his sake and also selfishly for your own. You missed him. Even with your newly-discovered feelings toward Billy and any outcome there may be, you would always wish him well. Hopefully he would feel better and be back at work in a day or two.
Except he wasn't.
Day after day, you wished and hoped and watched and waited. No Billy.
It had been almost a week since the Fourth and you were beyond worried by now. Almost seven days with the other lifeguards filling in and doing a shitty job of closing. Nearly a week of that gnawing pit in your stomach that no one should be sick for that long.
Finally, there was a rainy morning where it was supposed to storm all day with lightning predicted so the pool was closed. After a couple hours of stewing and pacing around your room, you had the thought that maybe you could visit Billy, find out if he was really okay. Almost immediately, you reconsidered that. Going to someone's house when you've never been invited might be an invasion of privacy.
The bigger part of you just didn't care. If there was anything—anything at all—that would help Billy feel better or at least know that you were thinking about him and missing him...then a potentially awkward encounter was something you were willing to risk. Even friends were allowed to worry.
Right?
Waiting for a short break in the rain, you quickly threw on a jacket and hopped on your bike headed to the Hargrove's address listed in the phonebook. A few raindrops began to fall as you hit the brakes and rolled to a stop in front of a single-story house with Billy's Camaro out front. Leaning your bike against a nearby fence, you began to walk up the stone stairs toward the front door.
Taking the last step, you could now hear some sort of commotion going on inside and you hesitated where you stood. Suddenly, the front door flew open and the volume of a male voice shouting reached you just as Billy rushed out and slammed the door behind him.
Billy's eyes flew open in shock at the sight of you, his sneakers skidding to a stop on the walkway.
"I—what are you doing here?" he asked, Billy's face turned to the left as his eyes flitted around nervously. As if he was caught somehow.
He might have been trying to hide it, but you had already noticed in those first short moments that there was a discoloration underneath Billy's left eye and a split in his lip that was healing.
Oh god.
"I'm sorry, I—well, they said you were sick but it's been days and I just...I was worried," you stammered out, your hands fidgeting in your jacket cuffs.
The voice inside was getting loud again, Billy's name easily heard.
Fear splashed across Billy's face as he dug a hand into his jeans, pulling out his keys.
"I have to go," Billy said as he walked swiftly around you and down the lawn to his car.
Frozen a moment, you took a deep breath and then hurried after him, reaching the passenger side door and opening it just as Billy cranked the engine to life. You slipped inside and shut the door, catching Billy's eye a moment, who perhaps was considering telling you to get the hell out. Instead, he put the Camaro in drive and roared down the street.
Braving a glance backward, you barely caught sight of a tall, brown-haired older man bursting out the front door before trees concealed him.
Billy drove in silence for a few minutes, heading for the main road through town and then stepping on the gas pedal. You watched as the speedometer's needle climbed higher and higher, well past the legal limit and then into a worrisome height. Hands gripping the seat beneath you, finally you spoke up.
"Billy, could you slow down a little?" you asked hesitantly.
He scoffed at first, but then glanced your way, perhaps only now remembering who was in the passenger seat. Nodding curtly, he did as you asked, easing off the gas pedal.
You weren't sure Billy had a destination at all, but perhaps from habit, he eventually pulled the Camaro into the empty swimming pool parking lot and put it in park with the engine on.
You waited.
Billy stared out through the windshield, eyes unseeing, until he swiftly struck the steering wheel the flesh of his palm. You jumped in surprise.
"DAMMIT," he growled, then repeating it in succession with each following strike of the steering wheel. "Dammit, dammit, DAMMIT."
He gripped the wheel with both hands, bowing his head until his forehead touched. Billy's expression was one of anger or anguish, you weren't sure which. Possibly both. He muttered something into the worn leather, sounding much like "I hate him".
Concern and fear tore through you, the pieces starting to fall into place in your head. Inhaling a shaky breath, you turned in your seat to face Billy. You didn't want to assume, but had to start somewhere.
"So...you weren't sick at all this past week. You were healing. Were you in a fight?" you asked at a near whisper, your gaze flickering to Billy's unmarked fists.
Billy scoffed, shaking his head. "I wouldn't call it that," he said, his voice thick.
You had to speak the question in your mind. "Your father?"
Billy leaned back in his seat, his head lolling to the side so he could stare out the driver's side window, turned away from you. He didn't confirm your inquiry, but he sure didn't deny it.
Shit.
You felt your heart squeeze in your chest at the idea of a parent hurting their child. Any child. But this was Billy, the sweet, funny, caring man you had come to know and care for. Deeply.
"Billy? Will you look at me?" you asked softly.
He hesitated, but eventually turned your way and raised his eyes to yours, another punch to your gut to find tears there. Your gaze roamed over his crestfallen expression, confirming the healing black eye and split lip, but there was also a scab in his right eyebrow you only now noticed.
Clearing your throat, you struggled to get out the next words. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"
With shaking hands, Billy reached for the hem of the black, sleeveless t-shirt he wore and lifted it to reveal numerous fist-sized bruises in various stages of healing, some yellowed and other a fresh, new purple. Bile rose in your throat, fearing you'd be sick, but you took a deep breath as he lowered his shirt.
Billy turned his head back to the side window, his hands in fists on denim-clad thighs.
"It's not usually this bad," he muttered as the rain began to fall outside.
Anger spiked through you. "It's not usually...this shouldn't be happening at all!" you spoke at a near-yell, then trying again to breathe deeply. Billy didn't need your anger right now. "How long?"
Two simple words, but he understood.
Billy let out a heavy sigh, sounding weary as he lifted a shoulder. "Shortly after my mom left. I was ten."
The sick feeling returned as you buried your head in your hands, your heart sick for the boy he was once and for the man beside you who had to learn how to live in such an environment. That could be soul-shattering for so many but somehow, you'd already seen what a good man Billy was in spite of it all. Lifting your head, you focused back to Billy. Another deep breath.
"Billy...what happened last week?"
Billy swallowed a few times, his Adam's apple bobbing in his tanned throat. "I lied," he croaked out.
You waited, hoping there would be more to the story.
Clearing his throat, his voice came out a little louder the next try. "I lied. The day of the Fourth, I told my dad I was going to the carnival with Max and her little friends."
Your stomach dropped. "Oh. You met me instead. Oh god, Billy, I'm so—"
"No, no," he broke in, finally looking your way. "It's not your fault. And that's not the whole story. I don't regret meeting up with you, I want you to know that. I had a great time," Billy assured you, attempting a smile despite it all.
You tried to return it with trembling lips.
He continued. "After I dropped you off, I headed to the carnival but I guess word had spread about the mall fire, so everyone was going home. I searched the crowd for Max, but didn't see her or any of her little friends. I hoped that she got a ride, so I headed home but once I got there..."
Billy swallowed thickly before speaking again.
"My dad and Susan were getting in the car to head to the hospital. Max was in the mall when it caught fire," he said in a whisper.
A shocked gasp escaped you. "Oh my god. Is she—"
"Max is fine," he said, answering your unasked question. "A bump on the head. Might've hoped it would improve her personality, but still the same little pain in the ass, trust me. She's fine. A few other injuries with her friends, but I think they're okay."
You slumped back into your seat in relief. "Oh, good."
"Once they got home, though..." Billy shuddered in a breath. "I knew it was gonna be bad. Slammed doors and heavy footsteps. He managed to tell me that Max was fine, staying overnight just for observation before—"
Billy's voice quivered then, but you got the picture.
"He took it out on you," you finished his statement. "God, Billy..."
A tear rolled down his cheek and you reached across the console, placing a hand on his clenched fist. Billy tensed at the touch but didn't pull away. In the silence, he slowly relaxed the fist, then turning his hand over and gripped your fingers in his. Even given the circumstances, you couldn't help the warmth of this small amount of acceptance and comfort flowing between you.
"I should have been with her, though. It's my fault that she's hurt and—"
"Billy, no," you interrupted his self-flagellation. "It's not your fault that Max wasn't at the carnival like she said she would be. You are not to blame that there was a fire where she happened to be with, apparently, a bunch of other kids? Shouldn't the mall have been closed? Regardless, it doesn't matter."
You paused a moment, then changing tactics.
"I lied, too," you declared, which brought Billy's head up to meet your eye.
"What?" he croaked.
"I did. That same night, I lied to my parents. Told them I was going to the carnival, too, to meet some friends. Instead I met up with you. I was hoping to spare you the interrogation from my parents, but..." you shrugged.
Billy sighed. "They sound like the type to be involved in your life and worry about you spending time with the wrong kind of people. I don't blame 'em."
"You're not wrong, even if their assumptions would be misinformed," you said, softly rubbing a thumb across the back of Billy's hand as an attempt at comfort. "But that's exactly my point, Billy. What do you think I'd deserve as punishment if they found out I lied? Same as you?"
Billy's head whipped around toward you. "What? No!"
"Then why do you think you deserve it? What happened to Max was an accident, and truthfully, she lied about where she would be, too. What kind of punishment will she get for it?"
The answer terrified you, actually, but watching Billy slowly shake his head, it seemed like you were correct in thinking that it would all fall onto his shoulders. His bruised and aching body. This man beside you, nearly grown, but still the same frightened ten-year-old boy in so many ways.
Silence hung in the air until Billy spoke again.
"I never wanted to drag you into this shit."
You shook your head. "You didn't drag me into it. If anything, I stuck my nose where it didn't belong, I—I'm sorry. I just thought that if you at least knew you had a friend, then...you'd feel better? I don't know..." you trailed off, now feeling awkward at how you just showed up at his door.
Billy scoffed lightly. "I don't know if I can be your friend."
Your breath froze in your chest, simultaneously feeling the heat of embarrassment in your cheeks.
Of course.
"Oh," you breathed out. "Right. That—that's okay, um...I understand. Still, if you need anything...just, if you could drop me off to get my bike—"
"I can't go back there right now," Billy whispered.
Your stomach sank. "Right. Sure, I'll just walk then, it's okay..."
Reaching for the door handle, you let Billy's hand slip from yours.
"Wait," Billy spoke up, fingers gripping your forearm tightly but quickly loosening. "I didn't mean—shit, I'm fucking this all up. Can you...will you give me a second? Please?"
You finally looked his way, seeing the pleading in his tear-filled eyes. Nodding slowly, you released the door handle and dropped your hand in your lap. Billy released your forearm, but to your surprise he instead threaded your fingers with his again. Huh.
Billy leaned back against the headrest and closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths.
You waited.
When Billy spoke again, his voice was even. Calm. "I didn't mean to say that we couldn't be friends. What I was trying to..." he hesitated, fidgeting in his seat and shifting to face you. "What I was trying to say the other night—god, that feels like weeks ago—I meant to say that I don't...I don't think I can be only friends....with you," he said, voice trembling and holding your gaze.
Brow furrowed, you cocked your head in confusion. "I don't understand..."
But it became a little clearer when Billy reached across with his free hand and brushed his knuckles across your cheek, then leaning in closer. "Is this okay?" Billy asked, his face now inches from yours.
Dazed and still a little confused, you nodded. You couldn't quite let yourself believe what was happening just yet.
Billy placed a hand on the back of your neck and gently urged you closer and closer...until his lips pressed tenderly against yours. His mustache tickled your upper lip as you leaned into the kiss, your eyes fluttered closed as your shock melted into a flash of desire. Heat coursed through you, your free hand grasping at Billy's shirt, aiming to bring him closer. Your lips caressed his, teasing and tasting as his tongue prodded the seam and you opened wide with an inhale of necessary oxygen. Billy released your hand and cradled your face while your fingers threaded into his golden locks.
The urge to be closer and closer was halted when Billy suddenly gasped and pulled away from you, a hand clutching his side as he winced. Right where a bruise resided. You suspected he struck it on the console between you.
"Oh god, are you okay?"
Billy inhaled through is teeth, breathing through the pain. "Yeah. Sorry. Kinda killed the mood," he joked.
Concern still coursed through you as you tried to smile. "Not at all. But I'd prefer you not be in pain while kissing me. Unless you're into that," you teased.
Billy laughed for the first time since that night of the Fourth, you suspected, but he winced again and your accompanying smile wavered.
"That's why you've been wearing a tank at work, right?"
He nodded, the mood sobering again.
Then it dawned on you. "Oh god...that night when you were playing with my visor and I elbowed you, shit, I'm so sorry, I—"
"Y/N, stop," he urged you gently. "You had no way of knowing. It's okay."
None of it was okay, in fact.
"Can I ask a possibly stupid question?" you inquired.
Billy sighed. "Shoot."
You recaptured Billy's hand in yours. "Does anyone know? Like...the authorities?"
Another dry laugh. "No. Neil's pretty good at keeping up appearances. He's very much the 'upstanding citizen' and a 'pillar of the community'," Billy said, using air quotes. "He's the good guy and I'm the fuck-up. Who would believe me anyway?"
Heart thumping in sympathy, you gave Billy's hand a squeeze in response. He squeezed back.
"I should let you get home. I'm sure your parents are worried about you," Billy assumed.
Sadly, you doubted the situation was the same at his household, but you didn't need to voice it.
"Sure."
Billy drove as the rain still lightly fell on the windshield. You were both quiet, listening to the rhythmic pattern of the wipers clearing Billy's view of the road. He rolled to a stop two streets away from his house and put the car in park.
"Thank you. For listening," Billy spoke softly, turning your way. "I know that was a lot of shit to drop in your lap."
"Hey, I'm the one who showed up at your door, jumped in your car, and asked invasive questions," you replied. "All you did was answer truthfully."
He chuckled lightly before a more serious expression overtook his handsome face. "Yeah. I could have kicked you out or evaded the question. I figured you knew in that first moment, though. And I don't wanna lie to you."
"It's probably easier to push people away than face the truth sometimes," you guessed, watching the words settle on Billy.
He just nodded, rubbing a hand under his sniffling nose. Tears were contained but threatening.
"Will I see you at work soon?" you asked, feeling selfish again but also figuring the less time spent in that house, the better for Billy.
"Yeah. Soon," he confirmed.
"Promise?"
Billy cracked a smile. "I promise."
You had to return it, feeling brave enough to lean across the console and press a chaste but lingering kiss on his plush lips.
"Okay. Bye," you said, climbing out of the Camaro.
Billy waved as you shut the door. You pulled your hood on and watched as he slowly pulled a u-turn and headed away from his own neighborhood again. Walking the two blocks in the rain, you finally reached your bike and straddled it, taking one last look at the Hargrove residence. One truly never does know what was happening behind closed doors. Fury pulsed through you, now privy to that information in the house before you.
Pedaling home, you tried to unravel your thoughts and emotions, still reeling from the past hour spent with Billy. In such a short time, everything had changed. With all of the many horrors that were revealed, mixed in was also a new type of joy. Confusing. But at the anticipation of when the next time you saw Billy might be, well, you couldn't help but smile.
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Chapter 5>>>>>
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Welp. That was...a lot, huh? It all had to come out eventually. I hate Neil so fkn much!!! :(((( So, there's my variation on the events of the Fourth of July and the Starcourt "fire". I don't think I'll be mentioning the supernatural parts of Stranger Things in this story. It's still happening, Billy just doesn't know about it. :) So it doesn't impact or ruin his life. :) :) :) It's one of those butterfly wings moments where he never goes to meet gross Mrs. Wheeler and his whole life is different. Plus he finally has someone who cares and supports him so in my mind he's not as susceptible to Vecna or whatever. Anywho!! I'm working on chapter 5 but not sure when it will be out. I adore you all. Please please let me know your thoughts. Feedback and reblogs fuel writers. :D