Billy Hargrove Fluff - Blog Posts

Stages of grief ft billy Hargrove x reader

You and billy have been on edge for weeks, rumors spread that you slept with Harrington and he’s been fooling around with some girls. Both rumors were false but both of you had a nagging feeling. You both didn’t want to be betrayed or taken advantage of so it ate both you up. The time you both spent together was short do you the pain of either thinking one laid with an enemy, the interaction at school were short. When either didn’t visit in the night you both had thoughts of the other being with that other person. Because of the tension for months both of you snapped at first starting it off as a couple who needed to fix their problems to a full on screaming match and both saying things they didn’t mean and putting either under the bus, you went on the fact he was a player before the dating phase to him saying you slept with Harrington since day one because you both hung out more before the dating. “ ooo so that’s what you think y/n “ you glare back “ it’s what I know billy” he groans/screams “ you really playing this card y/n ever fight, I can’t catch a break” you slam ur hand down “ I can’t catch a break either because you can’t get over your pride about Harrington” the fact you said his name sent billy even further over the edge, he got in your face through his clenched teeth. Nothing but venom dripped from his mouth only for you to poison it more. He called you every name in the book going as far as to comment on your looks only for you to spew back a rush of hateful comments both you brought family even personal secrets into the argument. By the time the last word left your mouth it all was a blur, broken items and car doors slamming, the news of the break up spread like wildfire. You both didn’t even dare look at the other feelings nothing for the first month. You only knew of a new girl on his arm from a class mate and the fact you cut off everyone seeing as they brought the rumors and lies. By the second it didn’t hit either till you looked in the mirror and finally broke, billy didn’t break till he laid next to a girl. He looked over not understanding why he really expected you to be right their. The night you both fought flooded both your minds. The feeling of a void entered both your chests, you broke sliding down your wall as tears fell in floods as your heart started to hurt. You screamed out and held your chest feeling it all hit, the man you wanted to spend your life with had left and laid with another, the thoughts of what he said broke you more, the pain was unbearable. Only miles away billy sat in his car near the lake you both would go, bottle in hand and tears flooding his eyes. He’s head lean on the seat and his fists clenched the bottle, he had been seven drinks in and the more the liquor filled him the more it unlocked the night and his his passenger seat was empty, his back seat had no shoes, his dash didn’t hold the picture of you, the necklace you gifted didn’t dangle from the mirror. The stages of grief set in. Denial was the period of not really believing it till, one entered their room to find the one thing from the other gone or when one wanted to tell the other something only to remember the situation, the empty sheets,the pillow that lost the other scent only for Anger to set in the thought of the others betrayal and lack of trust, the fact you both spent a year together just to not trust the other filled each with rage. Bargaining the guilt for what was said, the shame, the anxiety all set in at once, most nights crying was over what was said both feelings evil and dirty for saying something they didn’t mean only to have depression set in hard both turning to a drink or cigarette to calm the nerves or hide the sadness neither would dare step in each other’s paths, everyone knew because the once bright school was sitting on the edge of their seats. By the fifth month acceptance wasn’t a find yourself or a recreation it was the sadness finally setting in, the acceptance that the other wouldn’t return or dare too because it’s Been half a year. Billy finally broke after seeing you at school,

he never looked at you but when he finally got the courage he stared at you seeing your eyes lifeless, you looked frail and tired, as you sat with friends you looked disconnected. Broken. It made him want to move across the room and hold you and fill you with life again only to see you stand and leave the room. He wanted to chase you. He got up moving to the hall seeing it empty as you walked down it, he moved faster only wrapping his arms around you from behind head on top of yours confused you froze only to sink into him once the familiar smell came to you, you spoke softly as if to speak a little louder would make him disappear “ billy”. He pulled you into a empty/ abandoned classroom. You dropped your bag turning hiding in his chest as his grip tightened, neither spoke knowing each pain, you cried lightly on his chest as he kept you close, only hearing each other’s heart beat rapidly and breathing fill the room. You look up into his eyes find them clear ice blue clear just everything you missed and loved about him on full display, the slight stumbles of hair his freckles in their funny order on his lightly pink cheeks, you didn’t know what came over you but up moved up quickly kissing him deeply, you’ve shared kisses with him but this one was full of the grief, the void, the lost time to lost months. Only to have him lean on a desk with his hand behind your head lips just as connected. It was like you both spilled your broken hearts out onto the floor, the muscles that were tenses now relax the tears that were held in now falling freely. Both pulled away gasping “please “ was all you could muster before both held each other in a hug “ forgive me “ even through it all you both stood speechless. Seeing sides of the other you’ve never seen. You hold his hand as he pulls you closer kissing your nose gently and humming “ why did we do this” you only smile “ young and dumb “ he cups your cheek, you feel his rings on your jaw and smell the cigarette as he kisses you deeply “ young, dumb but never apart” you hum cupping his hand on your face “ till death” he smiles “ do us part”.

“Kiss,kill,marry”

Billy Hargrove x reader

You cry lightly into his shirt and grip his Jean jacket, he rests his chin onto of your head and arms tightly around you, you mumble though sobs “ I hate you” he rubs your back feeling guilt comes over him “ I know….I know” he’s put you through nothing but hell. The Whole relationship was hell, from the start each kiss and touch was purely to not feel alone both didn’t want commitment but both didn’t want the other in someone else’s arms so this whole thing was running off of the fear of being alone. Both you fighting like cats and dogs, so many bruises or cuts from passed fights. You couldn’t count it on your fingers how many times you fought with him, morning till night you both fought only having genuine moments when one was hurt or in pain by an emotional situation. When billy father would rage, you broke down the door next to killing the man for being inches from billy. if billy didn’t grab you, you be in prison rn. Him the same when your mother spoke down on you or got loud. He was right there with open arms, he knew how to soothe you and he had all the right words but when the moment passed and a rumor or comments were made, even the slightest change in a mood and you both saw red. But god forbid a man or woman looked either way. Tonight wasn’t the case, billy finally crossed a line. He went to a party, when you arrived you caught him kissing some blond. When he noticed you. You saw his eyes go almost blank, deer in headlights. You stormed off. He ran after you only to meet you in the front yard, you didn’t know you could get this angry but you turn punching him in the jaw, he fell back shocked holding his soon to be bruised jaw, you yelled and called him every name in the book. Out of it all what broke him was how emotionless your eyes were when you said “ I hate you william Hargrove” you meant it, other arguments you say it but he knew ya didn’t mean it this one hit him hard. When he finally got home, he broke down crying. Max was so scared she came to him, asking if he was dying. She’s seen her brother broken but to cry this hard broke even her. After a month of the argument, billy was not the same, he went quite even snapping at his friends and slowly starting to distance himself from everyone. You noticed and thought that he finally found a girl and was keeping her secret. You being a master over thinker, the thought drove you crazy so much so you went to him in rage. But when he saw you, he never moved so quickly to hold you, as you yelled and beat at his chest. He felt a calm come over him and he held you tighter, you kinda calmed down not expecting this from him. “ billy” the way he looked up broke you. you pushed back, backing away “ no,no” he reached out gently around your face, kissed you deeply, you felt the tension and anger, rage, sadness in this kiss and like every single “break up” you kissed back returning it, you ran your fingers through his hair as he brought you closer. You pulled back as you both breathed heavy. Looking into each other’s eyes. You felt your body just become tired and angry, heavy tears ran down your face. He pulled you closer into his chest. You sobbed “ I hate you” he only held you tighter “ forgive me y/n, forgive me please” you never heard him beg even when he’s father held broke bottles to his throat he didn’t beg but this was a beg to live and not be alone “ y/n please, stay with me” you felt his chest rumble and shoulders shake “ I’ll be better y/n please “ you look up seeing the blue eyes you loved ooo so much pooled with tears and filled pain “ y/n pl-“ you cut his off, being inches from his face cupping his cheeks and crying too.” Ooo shut up” you sighed “ why do we do this “ he felt his chest become tight and his skin go cold, he knew the real reason but never said it out loud. You look at him “ why billy, why” he moves your hands with his having you lean on his chest. “ we fear being alone” you felt you heart ache, he was right. He was always right. You lean ur head kissing his jaw moving your arm over his shoulder. “But do you love me “ without hesitation he spoke

“ yes, I adore you “ you turn looking into his eyes searching for a lie but found nothing. He looks up “ do you love me “ you smile lightly “ yes”. Let’s just say the next morning you woke up in his bed, both naked intertwined with each other and in love.

Hope for the hopeless

Billy Hargrove x reader

“WILLIAM” you growled, you glared at him so hard your upper lip twitched as you came through the door slamming it behind you. He laid his weights down looking over his shoulder putting his cigarette out. Meeting your glare just to return it “ y/n” he turned fully then the fighting ensued. “ you really think I’m that dumb “ you stick ur finger in his face “ whatever she said was a lie, you really have no faith y/n” you didn’t know why but you pushed him back yelling at him. Growled as you both were in each other’s face yelling. “ ya know what billy, ya know what “ in his cocky tone he mocked you “ know what y/n , know what” he had his hand on his hip still fuming. You look him dead in the eye “ we are done, and I mean it. All we do is fight and all I ever hear is how you miss your whores. Thinking your comments are funny. Then on top of it you just let two of the schools biggest idiots run me Into the ground. You know they start all the rumors along with your little whores” you were fuming at this point finger in his face “ then I hear about how your talking to mrs.wheeler, ya think that’s funny. She’s in her thirties” he rolled his eyes, “ it was harmless” he glared, you glared back only seeing red. When you threw the phone book by the door At him, took the brut of it to his arms and you just kinda started to back up and smile in a way to seem annoying. “ ya know what have. A good life” you ripped the necklace off throwing it to his feet, before he could get a word out” you slammed the door. Billy looked towards the door in a frozen state trying to even process what had happened, it all hit him when the necklace laid on the ground, in his heart he felt the realization that it was over, there wasn’t gonna be a next time by the time he reached the door you were already gone. He gripped the necklace “ y/n “. For the next couple days, he held this hope like he always did, knowing you come back and kiss him and hold him. You come to the pool or pop up at his. Window, he would stay up an extra hour at night waiting for your little tap but it never came. He thought he was okay, he thought you just needed space and you be back in no time but no, a week turned into two then two to three. He sat on the post at the pool, a part of him waiting for you to come in but ya never did. He felt his heart start to really sink, he messed up and he needed you. He signed running his fingers through this hair, he sat on his bed staring into space, it all hit him hard. A tear fell down his cheek. After that night he didn’t care what he did or needed to say, he needed you. It was late like midnight when he broke and came to your window he looked in seeing your back to the window, he felt a smile forming on his lips seeing you in his tshirt. He tapped lightly causing you to jump, which honestly happened even when he called you to tell you. Your face shifted through many emotions, you over close opening it “ bill-“ he cut you, placing his hand behind you head and kissed you deeply, you didn’t understand why you always fell again and again but the way he moved his lips made your heart skip a beat, you gripped his shirt pulling him further in lips still connected as he wrapped his arms around your waist, you jumped wrapping your legs around him, you both Fell onto your bed, both desperate and frustrated, angry but ooo so stupid for one another. You pull away feeling tears fall from your face and you finally just let it all out. The pain of the fight and days apart broke you, when you would out of habit reach for the necklace, it broke you to find your neck empty. He rested his forehead on yours wiping your tears away, the shirt you wore slightly up. He kissed you cheek and neck “ I’m sorry billy” he ran his fingers through your hair and hummed “ no y/n” he looked you in the eyes and sighs “ I’m sorry, I’m supposed to be a good boyfriend and I haven’t been, this month has been hell” you hummed “ I forgive you billy, I missed you so much “ you felt the. Tears but he just smiled kissing you more, he removed his jacket and shoes.

He move his right arm to cup your thighs and then to go under your arm, lifting you up towards your pillows, he spooned you kissing the back of your neck holding you tightly. He was so close, he felt himself becoming whole again, the only women to really learn him was back in his arms. He intertwined his fingers with yours, you giggled lightly smelling his strong Cologne and hint of cigarettes, you turn cupping his cheek kissing him deeply closing your eyes, you put all your love into that kiss. As the street lights came on. The whole world continue to spend you slept better that night. “ I love you billy”, “ I love you more y/n”

Billy Hargrove x reader toxic relationship!

To say the relationship was good would be a lie both of you on your own paths even when ur paths crossed it was a inconvenient but it kept happening. He asked ya out. Ya said yes and the rest was history only took a week for both of you to be at each other’s throats. You were possessive and a over thinker, a control freak. He was loud rude, possessive, easily provoked. So the night he said he call, he didn’t which left you to overthink. You got mad and he got frustrated with ur silence and ignoring him. He slammed your locker and the look in your eyes made him feel like his fight or flight kicked in, he returned the glare never to be overpowered or undermined. Through closed teeth you told him to meet you. When you both meet, it was good nobody was around and no real objects were around. You both went at it, you accused him of wanting another girl and he blew up because he hated explaining himself or being questioned. The night ended heated but with one gesture and one glance you both held a bond so tight. It all felt so right but it was so wrong. Both ppl with a mindset of being in control constantly brought things down in fire, you held him when he’s dad went on his rampages and beat billy or took his sons pride and stomped it, you held a part of his heart with that. He held yours by giving you the attention your dad never did, you gave him a stool, a platform, a stage to be viewed as a higher power. You wanted any male affection so the fact the most loved and wanted boy in the school wanted you gave you a sense of power. With that when you both would “break up” you both felt that void, that cold aching void. It would eat billy up when he lay in his bed with your perfume mocking him and your shoes or jacket laid in a part of his room. It all mocked him and showed him how much he missed you. For you it was the habit of looking towards the window or his leather jack draped over the chair in front of your vanity or a lighter on your side table. The make up was always like you both first meet full of genuine love and gently words. Wasn’t like you both didn’t love each other or plan a future together but you both were damaged but your traumas made you both fight. The night after the fight, he called and you went out with him, you leaned on your arm as it hung out the open window, you heard the infamous click and puff. He’s window down too. You both sat in silence, you turn ur head looking at him and he looked at you, he moved his hand around your throat placing butterfly kissed your lip, not long kisses but some that lingered on your lips made ya forget. The taste of the cigarette was on his lips but ya didn’t care. His thumb moved over your lips after the kisses, he hums “why do we do this” you felt how your heart ached, you knew what he meant. Why do we fight and argue but come back to this. “ because we know nobody else wants us like we want each other” you said it so coldly, it was as if billy shiver. He moved his hand behind your head, you felt his fingertips on your scalp, closing your eyes sinking into his touch, you turn your head seeing the baby blue eyes that can turn dark in a minute stare back at you. You wanted to kill for him but kill him at the same time. You look over him seeing his red shirt slightly unbuttoned and his gold locket rest over his collar bone, you move your fingers up holding it in your palm on his chest. You both would just touch to touch not a sexual touch but a touch to make ya imprint on it, a touch that made ya rethink it and giggle and stomach flip. He’s hand moved to your cheek as he leaned closer, you moved your hands to his neck as your lips connect, you lived off his kisses. The way they moved and just fit yours so perfect got you every time, how his hand would wrap around ya and rest on your hips as you both kissed deeply, you wrap your arms around his neck. Between kisses he say I love you pulling you closer, you both wised to breath another way hating to pull apart but both always left breathing heavy and flustered. You would kiss his chin and neck,

he would kiss your forehead and nose. A deep passion full of love and want along with desire a unhealthy desire. Only to have it be covered by the arguments or rumors. You wished for theses moments to be forever but you never held you tongue and he never held his which was the cause of petty arguments and unresolved issue. Why did everything have to end with a finger in the face or a door coming off the hinges. The fire you both held was the same that burned you both. But this moment made you believe in hope for you both, a memory to keep the “break ups” a joke, even ppl at school knew that if someone heard of you both breaking up, they would laugh knowing the case and the process. You laugh lightly still up on him, he raises a brow humming. You smile “ we are terrible” he only hums and kisses you again. “ but we are stuck together” and that’s what you wanted to hear till you die.

Hi! Already told ya but I really liked you ST headcanon❤️ could you make one with Billy (+ any other stranger things boys you want to add) about them accidentally hearing that y/n has feelings for them? It’s too cliched but such fluffy fluff is my air:>

He Accidentally Overhears You Have Feelings for Him (Stranger Things Headcanons)

*GIF not mine*

A/N: yeah so this took me like a month but also guess what i had to bullet point every single goddamned mfing line in this post by hand bc of tumblr's new formatting or whatever, and then i posted it on the wrong goddamn request so i had to do it twice so ig we all got probs kill me. Anyways, i kinda went overboard on this prompt bc i love billy so naturally no one else made it into the hc🤷‍♀️ what a shame👀 Enjoy!

Word count: 4856

Billy Hargrove: 

“I don’t like him.” 

Billy’s eyes fluttered open, and they glided lazily onto your form in the desk in front of him. With his hands folded behind his head and his legs crossed, feet perched on his own desktop, Billy knew the teacher had long ago given up on scolding him for his lackadaisical behavior in class, and even longer ago had he realized Billy would never put much effort in anyway. 

One such happenstance that seemed to disturb the entire class, though, was how Billy had wound up there in the first place. Honors English didn’t exactly seem tailored to his, er, capabilities, to put it lightly. 

However, before Billy and his family had moved to Hawkins, Indiana, he’d been quite the student (according to the principal…after you’d complained), and lost in translation was some other lame excuse that English classes in California were inherently more advanced than those of Indiana anyway. 

You called bullshit. You had sworn Billy had bribed the teacher to let him remain in the class just to disrupt your existence. 

It wasn’t exactly his crowd, so to speak, judging by the glasses, focused faces, and pencils scribbling around the room. Nobody in the room looked like they’d even smelled a cigarette before—well, not until Billy arrived.

But you? God, you fit in like a glove. Here was where you divided yourself from the rest of the school, from its bullies and booze and tobacco—from its corruption. You were innocent when it came to such “paraphernalia,” as you called it. You were untouched, and more importantly, you were unclaimed. 

Billy was enthralled with this virtuous disposition of yours. In the beginning, his feelings for you,“little Miss Priss” as he’d grown to calling you, appalled him. Of all the girls in the school he could choose from, all the hot blondes that fawned over him in the halls and the enticing brunettes that asked him out after catching his eye for a moment, never did he think for a fucking second that it would be you. 

The prude. 

“Don’t like who?” Billy interjected harshly, dismissing how you and your friend flinched at his sudden interest. 

“No one!” you both mumbled, avoiding his gaze and spinning around in your seats. 

Billy’s brow rose at that, and the instant the bell rang, he kicked his feet off his desk and reached a hand toward you. You scooted forward in your seat the second his fingers brushed you, and Billy paused, a small ache in his chest disguising itself as irritation. 

Clenching his jaw, Billy curled his fingers around the back of your desk chair and dragged you back to him, the rubber stoppers on the ends of your chair legs squealing in protest against the polished floors. The teacher glanced up from his podium at the front of the class at the sound, an unimpressed look on his face, but was otherwise unconcerned about the situation unfolding. After all, it happened almost every morning. 

The teacher sighed and resumed calling roll. Billy kept one fist clasped around the back of your chair and one long leg outstretched beneath your seat, his boot situated around the nearest footing to stop you from scooting away. He leaned forward, hot breath rustling your hair as you sat stock-still, hands folded in your lap. 

“YN-”

You flinched. 

“-who were you talking about?” Though it was a question, he more demanded the answer than asked for it, because Billy would be damned if he had to listen to you and your friend giggle and jabber about your feelings for any guy that wasn’t him. 

Just the thought of another boy in the class catching your eye in general made him feel angry. 

No, maybe not angry. Sick was more like it. You weren’t his, and he knew that—fuck, he knew that all too well. He wouldn’t let it be that way for long, though. 

For months he’d tried to take his mind off you and place it, force it, on someone else. But when girls at parties and in his car, in hotel rooms or in their own goddamn bedrooms couldn’t eliminate the picture of you hot-glued to the forefront of his mind—couldn’t erase your secret smile when Billy had Sharpied a dick on Mr. Morrison’s board, or your glare when he’d tugged your seat over to his for the first time, or that feeling of your hand overtop his when he’d tugged on your hair to distract you, to bring your attention back onto him—Billy knew he had to give up on getting over you. 

He’d finally accepted that his only course of action was to keep your eyes on him just as his were locked on you. It was only fair. 

“Nobody,” you huffed under your breath. “Why do you even care?”

The tension on Billy’s face softened, relaxed as he looked over your form appreciatively, licking his lower lip. ‘Heres’ and ‘Presents’ resounded about the pair of you as Billy released his grip on your seat’s backing, settling the same arm on his desk and reaching up a hand to twirl a strand of your hair around his finger. “Oh, no reason, babe, just making sure I’m still in your good graces is all.”

You scoffed and twisted in your seat, yanking his hand from your hair with a grip on his wrist. “Were you ever?”

Billy held your gaze while simultaneously imploring to whatever asshole wandered around in the sky that you would never release your hold on him, and he allowed his lips to curl up into a real smile. So long he went without ever letting that happen, and then you showed up and now he never wanted to stop. 

Just as Billy reached up to brush a strand of hair from your forehead, the teacher reared his ugly, bald, fucking bastard head. 

“YN, Billy,” Mr. Morrison called aloud, his tone on the latter’s name far more irritated, and, of course, you sat at attention, turning away from Billy and tearing your hand away from his wrist. “Pay attention, please.”

“Sorry, sir.”

And just like that, you slipped from his grasp. You ignored Billy’s every poking and prodding of his pencil in your back for the rest of class and focused rather on whatever the hell Morrison was on about, curled over your notebook with your head ducked low.

It was only when Billy sighed and sat back in his seat with crossed arms, chest tight, that he realized your friend was watching from the corner of her eye with a small grin. 

Until Billy flipped her the bird, then she scoffed and looked away too. 

By the end of class, Billy’s head was dropped back, mouth open and releasing soft snores. The bell ringing didn’t wake him; what did was your courteous kick to his foot in order for him to release your chair, which he did, so you could push your seat in. Then you smacked his forehead with your notebook for good measure. “Wake up, asshole, class is over.”

He grunted, swatting away the offender. “You’re so kind to me, babe,” he grumbled bitterly. “What would I do without you?”

“Considering you spend every waking minute in this class annoying me, I truly, honestly don’t know.”

Billy smirked at that, gaze latched onto your form as you walked away side-by-side with your friend, whom you seemed to be shaking your head at. Sluggishly and with a yawn, he rose to his feet, lugging his bag over his shoulder and following your path out of the classroom. 

He lingered behind a few steps, stopping only to lean against a water fountain and pull a pack of Marlboros from his back jean pocket. He swiped the cigarette across his bottom lip before slotting it in the corner of his mouth and reaching for his lighter. 

“That’s not what this is,” you groaned, fiddling with the combination of your locker. 

Your friend hummed sarcastically, a mocking “Totally” on her lips from Billy’s distance away. He could barely hear the two of you, especially through the thick crowd of students flooding the halls, rushing to their cars and buses to get the hell out of school. 

Of course, you were lagging behind to study in the library, and, of course, Billy would be there to bother you for the next half hour before “suddenly remembering” he had a date.

Fuck, he hated it. He hated himself, and how easily you wound him around your little finger. He used to wish you were cruel; some cold-blooded bitch to him so it would be so much easier to dismiss his feelings and walk away. Instead, you were kind. The only fucking person who could battle back against his attitude and yet still care about his wellbeing. How many times had you tugged a cigarette from his mouth with a small, disapproving grumble, or silently placed a water bottle on his desk when he’d enter the classroom reeling from the effects of the night before?

He'd never met anyone that was too good for him. Not since…

Fuck. He hated this.

How? How did you have that power over him? When did you ever have time to wrench your hand into his chest, break past his ribcage and grab a fistfull of his heart just to steal it out and shake it in front of him like some cruel game of fetch?

“Goddamnit,” he huffed, eyes narrowed at his lighter that sparked fruitlessly. One last click, though, and a flame bloomed in his hand. 

“I swear it’s not! The guy’s an asshole. You know my grade is actually dropping in that class?” You slammed your locker closed, armfuls of textbooks hugged to your chest. “It’s because of him. Pretty soon, I’ll have an A-minus. Do you know how long it’s been since I've had an A-minus in a class?”

“Not as long as you haven’t had a D.” 

You blanched, whole body flinching like you took a punch to the gut. “I-... you-... that was totally uncalled for.” Your friend snickered. 

Billy, meanwhile, had grown infinitely more interested in the conversation, so much so that he had almost coughed out the smoke in his lungs. His eyebrows raised as he watched a flush rise to your cheeks. 

“You’re disgusting, you know that?” You pointed at her disapprovingly, but she only laughed more boisterously. 

“Oh, come on! Am I wrong?”

“Who cares about my…” you gestured at yourself wordlessly, floundering, “e-experience level? You really think that asshole is gonna solve that?”

“Easily.” 

You threw your arms in the air hopelessly at your friend’s deadpan, rolling your eyes. “No! Not happening! The only possible outcome is a newfound exposure to STDs.”

“Worth it.” Her hands snapped up in surrender at your glare. “Kidding. Just kidding.”

Slowly but steadily, the halls were clearing. Billy didn’t bother trying to disguise his watchful gaze as he inhaled another cloud of smoke, pulling the cigarette from his lips to tap the ashes out in the water fountain behind him. He let out the fumes in one long stream as he leaned a hip against the metal edge of the fountain, settling his other hand into a front pocket on his blue jeans. 

Billy waited, as he always did, like a predator ready to swoop in on his prey the second it was alone. Two blue eyes stay cemented on your form like a promise, a pledge of devotion. It was the yearning from afar that pained him the most, certainly because what excuse could he ever fabricate to explain himself? You hadn’t called his name—-your gaze hadn’t even accidently washed over him. You’d done nothing to gain his attention. You had done nothing but be, and for that, Billy was undeniably, absolutely addicted. 

He needed you.

Billy massaged two fingers at his temple, taking another drag with half-lidded eyes. 

“You better be.” You sighed, slamming your locker closed and clenching the straps of your backpack in your hands. “The day I actually throw myself into the arms of that aggravating jerk is the day I toss all of my self-respect in the trash.”

It’s me. It has to be.

She’s talking about-

“He’s not that bad if you think about it. Even you yourself said-”

“I know what I said,” you floundered, shoving a finger against her lips. “But—you know what—if we both ignore that I ever said it, then maybe, just maybe, my feelings will fade away, and we can both look back at my confession one day and laugh.” You pull your hand away from her, posing your hands on your hips righteously. “Laugh while knowing that my feelings for him were ridiculous and dumb and stupid and childish, and that I was just acting like a regular teenager with a little, stupid crush on some dumb boy-”

“You’re in love with Billy, aren’t you?” your friend deadpanned. 

Your face fell, and you pouted. “Yeah, fine, you’re right, I’ve got it bad.” 

-Me.

The cigarette fell from his lips, landing on the floor soundlessly. Billy stood at attention, his hand falling out of his pocket as the other dropped from his head. Love. YN is-

She’s in love with me.

All color in his cheeks disappeared, just as all the air in his chest. He couldn’t breathe, but in a good way, like the burn of surfacing from underwater for too long—like he was seconds away from the first gasp of fresh, sweet oxygen, after suffocating for so long.

He wanted this—fuck, he needed this. Who gave a damn if he deserved it or not, he was going to have you. You and the warmth of your hands; your smile and your laugh, all of your blushes and your tears.

All of it. Every single last ounce, he wanted it all.

He could fucking have it, too. 

She’s in love with me. 

Your friend grinned all too smugly. “You’re finally admitting it out loud, huh? Look at you, growing up right before my eyes. How does it feel?”

“How does what feel?” you grumbled, still curled in on yourself, cheeks dusted pink.

“Your first real love confession to a boy.” She dropped both of her hands on your shoulders as your brows furrowed. 

“Does it really count if he’s not even here?”

“Nope,” she beamed, spinning you around in her grip. “Good thing he is!”

For a moment longer, you were still visibly confused at her words. The halls had long cleared, and the only sights and noises that now filled them were your wide eyes and quick gasp. 

“Billy.” His name slipped from your lips like an accident, tumbling out without a second thought and landing in the allconsuming silence of the hallway with a dull thud. 

He couldn't help it. God, he couldn’t fucking help it. 

The trembling that took hold of him, the shiver that began in the tips of his fingers and transferred up the length of his spine—he hated it because he had to hate it, but deep down he loved it more than anything else.

Because you were just so fucking perfect. 

Your eyes were glassy, like any second you were going to burst into tears. There was a small quiver of your lower lip, and, like a tidal wave, the overwhelming urge to feel that same quiver against his own lips, his skin, crashed into him. 

He really, really couldn’t help it. It was second nature. 

A corner of his mouth lifted, and his eyes glinted with condescension. “Is that right?” he hummed, amused. “Are you in love with me, YN?”

The pounding in his chest, the pregnant pause as he waited, the subtle, dizzying fog that began to flood his mind, all of it he ignored. He had to hear it. Say it again.

But he couldn’t help it, and the more your glistening eyes studied his face, tears threatening to overflow at the waterline, the more he could feel that sweet burn in his lungs turn painful once more. 

And it hurt so much worse when you twisted out of your friend’s hold and bolted. 

Your tennis shoes squeaked in protest against the vinyl composition tile, down the hallway and clear through the glass doors of Hawkins High, never turning back no matter how many times your friend called your name. 

When the doors slammed shut, a gust of wind followed and ruffled the stray curl against Billy’s forehead. The smirk had long fallen from his face. 

Your friend bit the inside of her cheek beside him, obviously searching for words of any kind to explain your reaction. “She’s just-… well, you kind of…” She huffed, adjusting her backpack straps against her shoulders. “Look, she’ll be back on Monday. She wouldn’t skip school, even out of embarrassment like that.” She threw him a sidelong glance. “Though, maybe next time you don’t respond like that, right?”

Billy’s face hardened, and he pulled the pack of cigarettes from his back pocket. He slotted a smoke in the corner of his lips. “Who gives a shit?” 

Your friend pursed her lips, observing as he struggled once more with his lighter. He gripped it with white knuckles, and the butt of his cigarette was crushed between his teeth. “Right,” she nodded with a sigh. “See you Monday.” Her footsteps trailed down the hall and away.

When the doors shut after her too, Billy spat out the smoke, hurling his lighter down the hallway with bared teeth. “FUCK!”

Monday. Fucking Monday?

Billy wrenched two hands in his hair, his nostrils flaring as he gnawed on his lips. It hurt, it all fucking hurt. Everything. 

She left, she fucking left. She ran away from you, and you know why too—it’s because you’re so weak. Why the hell would she ever want to be with someone like you? How could she ever be in love with-

Billy paused, his hands falling from his scalp, his shoulders rolling back. His head raised, slowly. 

Fine, you could have until Monday. But on that day, he was getting some fucking answers. 

The weekend didn’t pass by quick enough, despite Billy not remembering most of it. He recalled the party he attended that Friday night, the keg and the shots and what must have been some girl trying her best to come onto him. He remembered shoving her off one minute with a snarl and thundering towards his car, and then the next he was waking up in his own bed. He remembered working out and drinking Saturday and Sunday away, and he remembered waking up Monday with a healing bruise on his cheek, his father none too impressed that he’d drunk all the beer in the house in the span of two days. 

But who fucking cared, right?

Who gave a shit when his Camaro came squealing into the school parking lot, stopped parallel between three spots? Who gave a shit when he ambled Hawkins High halfway through the school day, his shirt unbuttoned down his chest, his cologne wafting after him everywhere he went?

And who gave a shit when he arrived in Mr. Morrison’s class, early for the first time in the six months he’d been in it, and planted himself in his seat, his legs kicked up on his desk, his arms folded up behind his head, blue eyes carefully watching the doorway. 

Because, yeah, you’d ran away from him. But you’ve been doing that for so long now, dancing out of his reach each time he wanted you, twisting out of his grip each time he almost had you. This was the first time you’d ever escaped him knowingly. 

Finally, he knew you loved him, and once more you got away. 

Of course, your little game of cat and mouse had to end like this—it had to end with him catching you. 

And catch you he did. 

God, you were so fucking beautiful, it actually made him ache. Your friend was shoving you in through the classroom door, two hands braced against your back despite you trying to wriggle away like a loose fish. 

Your face was red, completely, utterly red, like you’d just come back from running a marathon. Your eyes were darting around frantically, from the desks to the ceiling, and he knew you were actually considering your chances of escaping through an air vent. 

She’s in love with me.

He didn’t care. Suddenly, at the sight of you, he just didn’t fucking care anymore. He didn’t care that you ran, about the turmoil you’d caused him, about the misery that had been his weekend away from you. 

He couldn’t care for anything less because the second your eyes landed on him in that classroom and you let out the softest little squeal, all he knew was you, you, you.

So fucking cute.

Billy kicked his feet off his desk, reaching forward and pulling out your chair before patting the seat backing suggestively. Like clockwork, his smirk reformed on his face, a small glimmer of patronizing amusement in his eyes. 

“Come on, babe,” he simpered at you. “Don’t be shy. Take a seat.”

Come back to me. I need you.

Your eyes widened, and you squirmed in her grip once more. “Nope, I can’t do this.”

“Hush up and go.” One big shove from your friend and you were stumbling forward, scrambling to regain your balance. 

Billy silently urged you closer, gesturing down at your seat with his hands the closer you shuffled toward him. As he did, he drank in the sight of you, flushed and skittish, stumbling toward him like a baby deer on new, unsteady legs. He noticed the darkened skin under your eyes, most likely matching his own, though he doubted you and him were sleepless for the same reasons. 

When you ground to a halt in front of him, you gulped, your attention everywhere but on his face. 

“Hey, YN,” he practically purred, hands itching to reach out to you. 

“Hello, Billy,” you squeaked, dropping into your seat and gripping the bottom in an effort to slide the chair forward. Very quickly, though, you discovered Billy’s boot was already perched around the chair’s footing, and one hand had an iron grip on its back. 

“Going somewhere?”

“I guess not.”

Billy hummed. “I think you have something to say to me.”

“Umm nope, don’t think so.”

“Oh, come on, no need to be shy. I just wanna hear you say it,” he prompted, as his other hand glided up, curling a strand of your hair around his finger. “Tell me how you feel about me, YN.”

“I think you’re a jerk,” you whispered, turning back slightly to fix him with a flimsy glare. 

“Besides that. Tell me what you told me Friday, before you ran.” He tugged at the strand of hair, his brows raised expectantly. 

“I didn’t mean it-”

“Don’t-” Billy gritted his teeth, his hand leaving your hair to grip your chin, turning you to face him. “Don’t say that.” He watched as your eyes grew damp again, all soft and delicate and one small admonition away from bursting into tears. 

You were so fragile, so small in his eyes. It often made him wonder why he ever thought he should be the one you should be with. How could he ever hold you in his arms without tarnishing you?

So badly, he thought he wanted to have you just to dirty you, take away that purity that seemed to hover over your head, but there were some days where he knew that all he wanted from you was to make him believe he could hold on to something so clean.

He wanted it. So, so bad, he wanted whatever you would offer him. He wanted to hear those words straight from your lips. 

Your cheeks were so hot, he itched to cradle them in his palms and absorb some of that warmth. He wanted to wipe away all of the tentativeness with the pads of his fingers and leave behind the breathlessness, the pure affection that was its source. 

“You just want to laugh at me,” you whispered, your voice almost breaking. “You’re just going to tease me about it like you do with everything else.” You swept a hand underneath your eyes. “You’re so cruel, Billy.”

“Stop-” he hissed and shook his head, gritting his teeth. “You don’t get to say that. Not after all I’ve ever wanted is for you to love me back, you don’t get to fucking say that.” Billy seized your wrist, tugging you closer. “I know what I am. I know what I do.”

His pride was wilting away the more he spoke to you, the longer you didn’t pull away from him, and his mind pounded in indignation. At what point did you turn him into a complete lovesick fool, and was it before or after you first smiled at him?

If your wide-eyed look was any indication of your shock at his feelings, he wondered just how baffled you would be once you discovered his willingness to bend over backwards at your every plea. You would never take advantage of him, and he knew that, but the tendrils of doubt still crawled up his spine at the thought of leaving himself so vulnerable for you. 

 “But you, YN?” He traced his eyes over your face, huffing softly. “In all my life, I’ve never wanted something more.”

You stared at him, open mouthed. Your gaze was so surprised, so innocent that it actually frustrated him. How could you have not seen? How could you be so blind?

“So don’t you fucking say that it’s cruel of me, or selfish, or some other bullshit.”

You gasped when he tugged you closer by the wrist, his other hand encompassing your cheek. 

“Just say it again.”

His eyes darted over your face, desperate.

“Please.”

Your eyebrows twitched up at that, and your gaze grew tender, raking over his face slowly as if committing to memory. You paused at his lips, watching as they parted and pursed against one another. 

You’d worn him down. You’d exhausted him, mentally and physically. Of all the months he’d waited for your confession like this, he never thought the last few moments would be the most excruciating of them all. What more did you want from him? Already, he could feel the swell of anger at his throat ready to be unleashed, to lash out at you until you were in steady tears again just so he knew exactly what you were feeling once more. Billy wanted—no, needed—some part of you to be under his thumb, just so he could pretend, if even for a second, that your emotions for him were still in his range of sway.

Instead, his heart stuttered when the hand in his grip wormed away and pulled off the other that was at your cheek. You splayed his hand out on the surface of his desk, then you intertwined your fingers with his and squeezed. Your teeth worried at your bottom lip as you ducked your head. 

“I’m in love with you, Billy.”

His eyelids fluttered shut, and he breathed a sigh of relief. 

Finally. Fucking Finally.

You were his, completely. 

He couldn’t help it. He really couldn’t.

His hand found your chin, and he tipped your head up, gaining your attention.

“I fucking knew it,” he simpered, entirely too smug. And when you tried to scramble away, panicked and scared, his hand found the back of your neck and tugged you close, his lips landing on yours. 

In his hold, you grew lax, only your hand tensing around his. Your lips didn’t move against his, seemingly too tentative and inexperienced to truly indulge yourself.

Billy grinned into the kiss, far more pleased than anyone should be at the knowledge that he could leave marks on you in so many more ways than one. When he pulled away, he quickly cupped your face with a hand, thumbing at your lips in search of the remainder of his own warmth. 

“Library, after school?” he muttered, his mouth still curved.

“Only if you don’t have a date afterwards,” you grumbled. You could sass him all you wanted, and Billy couldn’t care less. He could hear your breathlessness and feel the heat in your cheeks, and pride flared in him knowingly. 

“Well, I might-”

“Are you guys done yet? ’Cause that was kinda gross.” Your friend dropped into the seat beside you, her nose wrinkled. You straightened up, unraveling yourself from Billy’s hold and nodding your head.

“Yep, yeah, definitely all done. Totally.” 

And just like that, you were gone. Billy bristled at your instantaneous lack of touch and threw a snarl at your friend, who only shrugged. 

Then she held out a hand, brows raised expectantly. 

“You owe me.”

Billy rolled his eyes, fishing his wallet out of the pocket of his jeans and rifling through it, passing her a ten dollar bill. 

“Keep the change.”

“With pleasure.”

Moving On

Summary: Everyone has the name of their soulmate written on their wrist. The main character has one, but after he dies, they get another.

Pairing: Billy Hargrove X reader, then Eddie Munson X reader. No y/n, just a main character in first person.

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: SPOILERS for season 3 but I’m imagining you already know that. Billy dies, depression, being hurt, abuse mentions, a little gore. This is mostly angst and then fluff at the end.

Since the beginning of my life, I’ve had one name written on my wrist. First and last. The letters were neat and took up the space from bone to bone.

Billy Hargrove.

And for a long time, the ink was dark. The letters were engraved, unmovable. They were beautiful against mine on his wrist.

We were happy. We got along better than our parents did, their names fading and constantly being replaced. Ours seemed permanent, and I think we hoped it was.

It should have been that way.

A year ago, a new boy showed up in a blue Camaro and had the heart of every girl in sight. I immediately decided I wasn’t going to talk to him at all, but there was no avoiding the pretty boy from California in such a small town.

We were in the hallway. I was in a short sleeve shirt, even though the air was just beginning to chill. A few girls spotted the name on my wrist through my locker, and they turned toward me in jealousy. Before they could say anything, or tell me to stay away from him like everyone else did, I felt someone behind me.

“Hello,” he said. My stomach dropped. I didn’t want this, I had a test in my next class, but I turned toward him anyway.

“Hi,” I said. The girls near us giggled and walked away like they hadn’t just been planning to kill me.

“I’m Billy,” he cooed. He popped his gum. He held out his wrist to me, not his hand to shake. He pulled back part of his watch to show me the name there.

It was my own name. I chose to ignore the fact he hid it to play around.

I introduced myself, gave a sad excuse to leave, and did.

I pretended to not see the pink sticky note he slid into my locker. My heart fluttered until I met him later that day behind the school, and every day for the rest of the school year.

That summer was the best summer I’d ever had. When I was around him, I felt like I was understood. His family wasn’t good. Mine wasn’t either, and it felt better than anything to tell that pain to someone. It felt good to be touched by welcoming hands, ones that genuinely cared about me. I think he felt the same, but Hargrove would be damned if he ever admitted he had feelings. He still showed me more sides of him than any of the Hawkins girls got to.

I thought it might have been the fireworks that made him change so suddenly. We spent New Year’s in the woods, alone together with the snow, so I didn’t know how badly they could have affected him on the Fourth of July.

I thought it would be a good idea to go to the mall, to buy him something nice or to find him and give him comfort. We’d made the mall one of our places, and I had a feeling he was there that night. The loud noises from fireworks put me in a bad place too, but I thought I might have been able to help him.

The roof was gone. The glass glittered over the floor. The lights were flickering or entirely burned out, there were no people except for the ones on the opposite side of the middle.

And I still don’t know how I saw all of that before my eyes finally took in the thing that stood in the middle of the mall. It’s form was red, twisting like it was alive. It breathed heavily, its face, or faces, pointing toward the screaming kids and teenagers across the way.

The room began to light up with fireworks and loud noises, colors and fire painting the walls and the red thing in the middle. My mind spun, I felt like the noise got louder. The lights brighter. I couldn’t think.

The thing screamed. I did too, but I didn’t realize it until I got home later that night and my throat burned.

I ran across the mall, trying not to catch the thing’s attention but to run to some sort of safety with the other people.

I wished I had just stayed home. It was too late to leave now.

In front of me was a girl, lying on the ground, head bleeding. She cried. Above her was Billy, my Billy. He was crying too, his head in her hand. The girl whispered things to him and he cried harder.

I watched in a haze as he sacrificed himself for the girl I had never met before. Behind me, his sister screamed and ran toward his limp body after the thing dropped it.

The huge monster dissolved into a pool of blood and mucus, the substance filling the mall’s drains. I threw up, I think.

Nancy Wheeler and her boyfriend found me, along with the others. They told me everything they knew that night, but nothing quite stuck. I couldn’t get the image out of my head: his white tank top being painted with black blood, his body hitting the tile. The sound of fireworks and screams echoed through my mind, relentlessly shattering my eardrums.

They took me home. And they checked on me every day for months. I knew they wanted to help me, that they understood too, but it seemed like they were there only to make sure I didn’t tell anyone what I saw. I knew my brain made that up, and I hoped with all I could that I made everything else up too.

But nothing changed for those months. Summer passed. The next school year started. I was in a black sludge, I jumped at every noise again. I didn’t go home much. Christmas came around and I found myself in his house, not knowing how I got there. The ground was coated with snow, the room smelled like a heater.

I took his jean jacket and left through the window, where I assumed I had come through before.

I didn’t take the jacket off for a long time. The smell of his cigarettes and cologne had long faded, leaving the stench of my tears and grief woven into the fabric.

It felt like nobody missed him. I roamed the halls of the school and the storefronts lining the rest of town. Littered along the stucco were pictures of Barbra Holland, Chief Hopper, and a few other people I didn’t recognise. There wasn’t ever one of his.

I found a single poster during the summer. I could hardly see his face through all the heart stickers and lipstick smudges. I wanted to rip it off the wall, I wanted to burn it. These girls were so in love with him, they missed him so much that they had to kiss a fucking poster of him? He was mine, he was mine and these girls were still in love with him, even in death!

But I did not rip it down, or burn it, or find the girls that did it. I only cried underneath the faded paper for hours until the store manager kicked me out. I wasn’t the jealous type, but I had never felt so horrible in my life.

It just felt like I was the only one grieving.

The world went on, whether I followed or not. The black ink on my wrist began to fade. The letters were still there, but they hurt every day. Nobody ever tells you they hurt when they leave, down to the bone. It feels like an ache, and there’s nothing you can do to help it.

Before spring break, when the rain was pouring outside the school’s windows and the air was sticky, my wrist finally stopped hurting. I checked it to make sure the letters weren’t gone, and they weren’t. They just stopped fading.

At lunch that same day, I ran crying to the bathroom because the skin began hurting worse than any pain I’d ever felt. I held it, kissing the letters, praying they wouldn’t disappear. My tears clung to my skin as I sat on the disgusting floor.

The pain slowly ebbed. I breathed on it, trying to keep myself quiet. I didn’t want to look at it. It would hurt me worse than whatever the hell that was if the letters weren’t there when I pulled my hand away from my mouth.

I sat there, catching my breath well into the next period. I felt like enough of a human to stand up again. I closed my eyes and brought my hand down. I let it stop tingling before I covered it with my other hand, not daring to look at it.

I wrapped it in a paper towel and found my next class through puffy, red eyes.

The people who sat at my desk saw the towel. They pitied me, I could tell. They must have known what it meant, but they didn’t ask me. I thanked them silently that they left me alone.

I did no work that day. I stared into space as the sky went dark. I shivered on my roof as the cool air set in and the fireflies showed themselves. I decided I wanted to know. If there wasn’t a name, I supposed it was for the best. I could always get them tattooed for real, and I knew that would hurt less than whatever happened in the bathroom that afternoon.

I took my flashlight and a hoodie from my room and left to the park where Billy and I used to meet. I sat beneath our tree, I didn’t care that my ass got muddy.

I took the paper towel from my wrist before I could think about what I was doing.

The letters were still there. I almost stopped looking when I saw them, just the reassurance that they were there was enough to stop me from doing something I would regret. I studied the curves of the letters like I didn’t do that every day as a reminder he had existed at all. I burned them into my retinas before I dared look away.

And I didn’t quite do that. I looked just under the faded letters, and my stomach sank at what was there.

There was another name. The letters weren’t the same shape, the font was bold and spread out, not sprawling and almost elegant. That’s why they burned, I supposed; they had to etch themselves into my skin again. I was just incredibly glad that they left the letters above alone.

Eddie Munson.

I might have been in a haze for almost an entire year, but everyone knew Eddie “the Freak” Munson. He had made himself known well before I knew Billy, but I never talked to him.

It didn’t make sense. I knew he had a name on his wrist, I had seen it myself. He practically framed it with silver bracelets and tattoos. I guessed I had never truly read it. And if it was mine, then what? Would I have to get myself together in this wet grass and tell him?

I sighed and realized that I was crying.

I didn’t think it would be easy to let go, but I didn’t think I was ready for that yet. My body and the Gods decided that for me, apparently. I decided a long time ago that I didn’t have to follow them, but maybe I wanted to. Even if we were wildly different, I thought it might be good for a change.

So I got off my muddy ass and went to school the next day wearing something colorful under Billy’s jacket for the first time all year.

When lunch came around, I found myself at Eddie’s table before he and his friends even sat down. I wasn’t planning on changing my life the next day, but I was there anyway.

When he neared the table and saw me there, he hesitated to set down his plate. His friends did not, they slumped down into their cheap chairs without glancing at me.

“I know you,” he told me. “Well, I don’t exactly know you, I’ve just heard the stories.”

I finally looked up at him.

There had always been a storm surrounding my head since last summer, it coated my eyes in a strange film and pressured me to cry every time I thought of his name, let alone anything else that I knew about him or about what we went through. I tried to fake it, to act like everything was fine, and that I could get better. And I never felt like I could.

But his brown eyes cleared an opening in that storm. I felt the sunlight on my skin, I felt the fresh air in my lungs. And I felt new. I felt like I could finally be something other than numb. I felt like I could change. That I didn’t have to get better, but that I could live with it.

“I’m sorry, by the way.” He said. It took me a second to understand what he said.

I didn’t say anything back. The rest of the table filled in. I recognized a few of the kids from that night at the mall, but it seemed that everyone went back to forgetting about me for a minute.

Everyone but him. I could feel his eyes on me as I contemplated what to tell him.

Instead of talking, I waited for a lull in the conversation that didn’t come.

So I pulled up my sleeve and set my wrist down on the table.

Everyone went silent at the table. The others in the room continued on like I hadn’t made one of the biggest confessions of my life.

“Holy shit,” Mike said. He stared at the names there, and I knew he recognized both. He knew what having two names meant, they all did.

Grief was not permanent. Not in my case. Not according to the Gods.

Eddie was in the chair next to me in seconds- I hadn’t even seen him move.

“May I?” He asked, gesturing at my wrist. I nodded and he took it into his hand. The coolness of the rings on his fingers practically burned my skin, but I almost sank into how gentle the touch was.

“This shouldn’t be possible,” he said. He didn’t quite say it loud enough for everyone to hear, but I assumed they were watching it all happen. “I’ve checked everyone’s names. I’ve seen yours, and you didn’t have…” he trailed off.

“It only appeared yesterday.” I told him.

He showed me his wrist. My name, in simple letters, was surrounded by bracelets with charms of hearts, skulls and cigarettes. He ran his thumb along his own name. I pulled it away then, but I didn’t mean to. It just reminded me too much of Billy.

He pulled back too, in a silent apology, then held his other hand out. “I’m Eddie.”

I shook his hand and introduced myself. He went around the table and introduced them all to me, but when he got to the two boys from the mall, they told him they already knew me.

They looked sad. Not sad for me, but just sad.

Maybe they did miss him. I hoped they did- I didn’t want to be alone in this.

“Hey, do you want to meet me after school?” Eddie asked. I nodded. “Meet at the soccer field, okay?”

“We have Hellfire tonight,” the boys at the table protested.

“Hey, we’re having a moment here.” Eddie flung a pretzel at one of their heads. It hit him between the eyes. “If I don’t make it to Hellfire, I don’t make it.”

“It’s Vecna’s night!”

“I don’t care!” He said.

I didn’t think he gave up on caring very often.

The bell rang, and the entire room stood up. I watched the boys leave before I began the rest of my daily routine.

Eddie tapped my wrist again. “Soccer field, okay?”

I nodded.

Being outside this time of year sucked. My hair stuck to my face, my neck, everywhere. I had to take off Billy’s jacket and set it next to me, which already felt too far away. I tried doing homework while I waited for him to find me, but I couldn’t focus.

I brushed my hair out of my eyes and looked back up at the brick school.

I saw him then, no backpack, no books. Just his chains and smile.

He waved at me, still out of earshot. I waved back, but I don’t think the fake smile I had mastered quite did it for him. His smile faded as he neared me.

“Are you okay?” He asked as he sat next to me. He pulled his legs up into a criss-cross, facing me.

“Yeah, I think so.” I told him. It seemed true for the first time in a while. I didn’t tell him that, though. I didn’t think I needed to.

“So my name appeared only yesterday?”

“During lunch, yeah.”

“What did it feel like? I can’t remember getting mine.”

I huffed a laugh. “It hurt like shit, I was crying in the bathroom.”

“Oh my god,” he breathed. He held out his hand, and I set mine in his. He touched the names there so lightly I thought I imagined it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know I would literally hurt you without even knowing you.”

“You don’t have to apologize, it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“I’m still sorry.”

He only touched his name. I didn’t realize that until now. “Does it make you jealous?” I blurted before I even formed the question well enough to be spoken.

“What?”

“That there’s two.”

“No,” he touched Billy’s name, just as light as before. I flinched, and I almost pulled away. “Sorry. I’m sorry. No, it doesn’t make me jealous. I just feel horrible.”

“Why?”

“Because I never knew him. I’ve heard the rumors around school about the both of you, but I don’t have any memories that are mine. And you’ve been hurting so bad, I wish I could understand why.”

“They all tell me everyone understands grief.” Which was true. The school counselor filled my ears with her lies like those when my grades took a fall. She told me it was a universal language, but I didn’t think that was true either. Nobody would quite understand mine.

The worst part is that they think he died in a fire that night. That he couldn’t run away for some reason, that he was at the mall on July 4th just for fun. There were always so many broken ties, unfinished lies that blurred together to create half a truth.

“I’m going to pretend that’s true.” He said.

We sat in silence for a few minutes. He kept my wrist in his hand, but he soon held my hand. “I don’t want you to be sad anymore.”

I looked up at him.

“I don’t know how you’re feeling, and I won’t try to understand. I really won’t. But you can talk to me, you can tell me anything. I’ll be here for you.”

I had heard those words before, all of them sounding muddy and half-true. But these, coming from a freak and a weirdo like the one before me, sounded so much more genuine. I hadn’t felt like anyone actually wanted to listen to me, or like they could understand me at all. But I felt like he could.

I was crying before I knew it. I felt the tears falling from my eyes, then I felt him drop my hand and watched him freak out.

“Oh no, what do I do?” He was looking at me, but he seemed to be racking his brain for anything helpful. “Should I hug you? Is a hug okay?”

I nodded and he wrapped his arms around me. I melted into the touch of comforting hands. I could tell that he knew it was more than grief that weighed me down, and I thanked the heavens that he knew enough about me to ask before doing anything.

I cried into his chest for a while. He held me tight, but left enough room to breathe or run away, whichever came first. I was thankful for him, but I didn't dare try to speak and tell him so. My throat was closed.

He waited until my breaths matched his before he asked, "Do you need a ride home?"

I shook my head. "I don't want to go home."

"Where do you want to go?"

"Snack date?"

"That sounds amazing."

I got up first. He took my books and backpack into his arms and led me to his van. As we drove, we told stories of the names on our wrists. I told him nobody had seen his name until lunch today, and we laughed about how people would talk tomorrow when I showed it off.

"Did it scare you that it was my name?"

"Not at all," I told him. "I just recognized you, and I knew I had to say something."

He hummed. "I knew you before today." He said. "I know I said that. But I do know you, past what they say about you, about last year."

“You never talked to me?"

"I didn't need to. I thought you didn't have my name because someone else had mine. That happens sometimes, you know?" I nodded. "And this year I knew you needed your space. But you came to me."

I nodded again, even though his eyes were on the road.

"Why did you?"

It took me a minute to answer.

"I want to get better."

He flashed me his wild smile.

—Note—

I got distracted while writing this and couldn’t get back into it again, but here’s what I think would have happened: they got closer and they understood each other better, and our main character never really leaves their grief behind, but they begin to live with it. Eddie helps them be happy again, and he knows when to give them time. They might be soulmates, but they’re platonic. They stay best friends :)