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multi-fandomfuckboy · 4 months ago

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Stranger Than Fiction

Part 28: Games

Billy Hargrove x Reader (Slowburn)

Part 1,... (Masterlist)...Part 28, Part 29 (Coming Soon)...

AN: lol I'm back on my bullshit. Word Count: 3,874 Warnings: allusions to abuse

It’s a short ride. Neither of you speak, allowing the music to fill the space between you. It’s comfortable. You listen to each song as the cassette plays through the specific mix curated by its maker. Max had shown you a few of these ‘mixtapes' Billy had made the day you waited with her. You don’t fully understand how he’s able to get each song to seamlessly blend into the next despite the variation in artists and rhythms.

Then a song comes on that grabs your attention. It’s the same loud tune, a guitar continuously strumming along with the beat of drums and bass. The thing that stands out to you are the lyrics.

“People think I’m insane, because I’m frowning all the time… I need someone to show me the things in life that I can’t find I can’t see the things that make true happiness, I must be blind.”

“Who sings this?” You ask, glancing sidelong at Billy.

“Black Sabbath.” He tells you, keeping his eyes ahead. “It’s one of their older songs but it still holds up.” He explains pulling to a stop in front of his house. When he moves to cut the engine your hand reflexively grabs his wrist, stopping him.

“Wait. I want to hear the rest.” You tell him, using your other hand to turn up the volume. Billy doesn’t fight you, watching you in silence as you listen to the rest of the song.

“Make a joke and I will sigh And you will laugh and I will cry Happiness I cannot feel And love to me is so unreal… I tell you to enjoy life I wish I could, but it’s too late”

Your heart gives an uncomfortable squeeze for a beat as the song ends. There is a tense moment before the next song begins where you notice Billy's pulse under your fingertips. You don’t know why you're squeezing Billy’s wrist so tightly. You slowly uncurl your fingers, sitting back in your seat. The lyrics bounce around in your mind as you sit there. Billy finally cuts the engine, ending the music as well.

“You okay?” Billy finally asks, lifting a brow. You nod.

“Yea, it’s just weird. How something can sound so loud and angry but under it all it’s actually really sad.” You explain. “Like a cry for help.” Billy’s lips quirk up slightly.

“Maybe that’s what they were going for?” He says. “Music is just another way to tell a story. I’m surprised you’re not more into it.” He tells you, moving to exit the car. “If you thought that was good I’ll have to show you some Bon Jovi.” He goes on as you follow him out of the car and up the steps towards the house. “I’m assuming you have no idea who that is.” Billy says with a smirk.

“Yea yea, save it. Max already thinks I’ve been living under a rock for the past 17 years.” You reply with an eye roll. Billy huffs a laugh.

“That little shit wouldn’t know dick about music if it weren’t for me.” He says, pulling out his keys. His words are harsh but there is no heat to them.

“Well this is a first.” You quip as he unlocks and opens the front door, stepping to the side to let you enter first. “A whole different experience than coming in though the window.” You joke, stepping into the house.

“We can always go around back if you’d feel more comfortable.” He jokes back, following you in. You take a moment to really look around as Billy closes and bolts the door behind you. You’ve never been in this part of the house, only glimpsing at it through windows. It’s not a large space and it’s clear that 4 people occupy the small domicile. Bits and pieces of everyones lives are scattered around.

“I think I’m good.” You reply. You notice that there is a clear clash in interior design through the house. The free weights contrast with the decorative rug under them. Beer cans stacked next to decorative shell decor on the mantle. Someone had tried to make this house a home, but there was something off. It felt like two personalities were struggling to mesh into a comfortable middle, it was unstable, chaotic.

Billy moves around you to lead you deeper into the house but before you can move any further Max’s voice calls from her room.

“Billy, I need to go to the arcade! Where did you-oh.” She stops short seeing you in the living room. For some reason it feels like you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t, a pit of anxiety taking root in your stomach.

“Hey Max.” You greet, giving her a half wave. She just watches you skeptically. Her narrowed eyes dart between you and Billy.

“What’s your malfunction?” Billy snaps after the silence lasts a moment longer than is comfortable.

“Are you two dating?” Max asks bluntly.

“What?!” Both you and Billy ask in unison. You share a confused glance before turning back to Max. Your face heats exponentially.

“Mind your own business you little shit.” Billy bites at the same time you try to explain.

“He’s tutoring me in history.” A smirk, eerily similar to Billy’s, spreads across Max’s face.

“Is that what they call it these days?” She asks, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall, a taunting lift in her brow.

“If you want a ride, I would shut the hell up.” Billy says sternly, narrowing his eyes at the redhead.

“Jeez, learn how to take a joke.” Max huffs with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. She ducks back into her room, leaving you and Billy in the living room. Billy just shakes his head, clenching his jaw as he heads for his room.

“I swear if her attitude gets any worse Neil is going to lose his shit.” He mumbles, pushing his hair back from his forehead. “Be ready in 20 minutes!” He yells after her. The only confirmation that she heard him comes in the form of a dramatic groan.

“That’s how all kids are at that age. I was so argumentative my mom and I didn’t have a pleasant interaction for weeks at a time, and don’t get me started on Hopper. I’m pretty sure I took years off his life with my attitude.” You chuckle fondly at the memory of your painful growing years.

“Sometimes being a kid isn’t a good enough excuse.” Billy replies calmly. Your stomach twists uncomfortably remembering how Neil had looked at his own son that night not so long ago.

“Neil and Susan are in Indianapolis Christmas shopping, so I’m playing chauffeur for the day.” Billy explains, entering his room and heading straight for the bed, flopping down on it.

“I don’t mind helping watch her.” You offer without much thought. You hover in the doorway, suddenly nervous about being in his room alone with him. It’s not like you had never been in his room alone before, you spent many nights sitting across from him on the bed pouring over history lessons, keeping your voices low to not wake anyone else in the house. But something about being here in the daylight, not sneaking around, it makes your stomach swirl. You glance around, his room looks the same as it always does. Bed half made, cigarette butts stamped out in the ashtray next to the cassettes on the nightstand. You do notice that there is now a small dent in the wall next to the mirror, but you can’t be sure that it wasn’t always there.

“Neil would kick my ass if he knew I pawned my responsibility off on you.” Billy explains, propping himself up on his elbow to see you. You absentmindedly skim your fingers over the outside of the doorframe.

“It’s not ‘pawning’ them off on me. We would do it together.” You reason with him. Your fingers catch on something cold and metal on the outside of the doorframe. Leaning back to glance at what you’re touching you see the latch of a lock. Glancing at the outer side of the door you see the other half of the latch. Something cold prickles down your spine.

This isn’t just a teenager wanting privacy, the way this latch is set up, it would function to lock the door from the outside. Why would anyone need that? Your mind struggles to make sense of it.

“He wouldn’t see it that way.” He tells you flatly.

“Then don’t tell him.” You say simply, stepping fully into the room. “I’ll help you out today and I’ll be gone by the time they get home. “ you explain, sitting gently on the edge of the bed next to his legs. “Just like when we painted the porch.” You remind him. You watch something dance behind his eyes at the memory from this summer that feels like a hundred years ago. “Consider it part of my tutoring payment. I know the food isn’t a fair trade.” You insist. When he finally nods, giving in, you have to smile.

“Fine. But only because the idea of dealing with a prepubescent she-devil by myself makes me want to stick needles in my brain… and leaving her alone is not an option.” He tells you, sitting up next to you. His thigh presses against yours, and the proximity sends sparks over your nerves.

Remembering the promise you made yourself before leaving home you try to scoot away to put some distance between your bodies. Billy notices the movement immediately.

“Oh sorry, am I making you nervous?” He asks, leaning in even closer, one of his arms going behind your back. He’s not touching you, but he’s close enough that you can feel him if you lean back even slightly. You struggle to hold his gaze.

“No.” You say simply, not trusting your voice to say more without shaking.

“You sure?” He asks, lifting a brow. You feel him lean in even closer, you swear you can feel the heat coming off of him. You force yourself to hold his gaze and remain still, fighting the urge to pull away. Like a game of personal space chicken.

“I’m fine.” You practically whisper, your voice sounding too loud with how close he is. When he chuckles you can feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek. His eyes shift between yours. You can see the flecks of green in his sky blue iris. Your breath mingles with his and you smell his last cigarette mixed with spearmint gum. You swallow thickly, gritting your teeth together in defiance.

“You can tell me if you’re not.” Billy insists, his voice just as soft. He’s flirting but you can hear the seriousness laced in his tone. He’s making sure you know he’ll stop, if you ask. Something about that knowledge eases the panic in you. Shifting slightly you tilt your chin up, watching him the way he always looks at you.

“I’m okay.” You say more confidently. You see his adams apple bob as he swallows, his eyes seeming to darken. His gaze flickers to your parted lips so quickly you think you imagined it. Your mouth suddenly goes dry, your stomach flipping at the memory of what his lips felt like against you-

“Right, that’s what ‘not dating’ looks like.” Max’s voice calls loudly from the doorway. You feel like a bucket of ice water has just been poured over your head as you pull away from Billy. Embarrassment floods through you as Billy leaps from the bed lunging towards the door.

“Fuck off!” He yells, slamming the door closed.

“I still need a ride!” Max yells from outside the door, pounding on it for emphasis. Billy’s shoulders are tense as he stands with his back to you, his arms braced against the door. You see him take a deep breath, then another, bowing his head as he lowers his arms, slightly adjusting the waistband of his jeans.

“You sure you want in on this shit show?” He asks, turning to lean back against the door. Max pounds on the door again, shaking its frame. You manage a dry laugh, trying to shove all the mortifying shame you feel into the back of your mind.

“Oh this is nothing. Try telling Mike Wheeler a campaign needs to end early. Kid turns into a gremlin.” You tell him, pushing yourself off the bed. Billy lifts a brow.

“I’m more surprised that you know what a gremlin is.” He admits teasingly. You roll your eyes.

“I do have a life outside of this room you know.” You tell him. You won’t admit that the only reason you know the plot of gremlins is because Steve insisted on catching you up on all the big hits you had missed while you were in the hospital, not that you had actually seen it in theaters.

Billy watches you approach with a healthy dose of skepticism.

“Come on Hargrove, put on a brave face. I hear they can smell fear.” You joke, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m going to be late!” Max yells, pounding harder.

“Be my guest Loca, I always knew you had a death wish.” Billy says with a smirk. Your heart pounds at the memory of your first meeting. It feels like a million years ago, like you were an entirely different person, and looking at Billy’s confident smirk, the teasing glint in his eyes, you wonder if he’s a different person now too.

Without another word, Billy whips open the door to reveal a very agitated Max.

“Finally!” She exclaims, turning on her heel striding towards the front door, her bag already slung over her shoulder. Billy shoots you a look over his shoulder before following after her.

“Hey, Max?” You call, slipping in front of Billy to catch up to her. She only glances at you, still heading for the door. “Do you mind if I tag along to the arcade?” You ask. Your words cause her to halt, turning to face you with the full force of her scrutinizing glare. You feel Billy come to a stop behind you, her eyes dart to him before returning to you.

“Did he ask you to babysit me?” She asks indignantly.

“No!” You say, throwing your hands up. “I just thought you could teach me some stuff. I’m not very good and I hear you kick the boys' butts on a regular basis.” You explain, hoping it comes off as genuine. She studies you for another beat, seeming to weigh the pros and cons of allowing you to come with her. Finally, she shrugs.

“Fine. But don’t try to talk to me while I’m playing. It throws me off.” She instructs, turning for the door. When her back is turned you quickly give Billy an enthusiastic thumbs up, earning another eye roll.

The three of you climb into the car, Billy turning the volume up to his usual bone shaking level as he whips out of his spot, speeding down the road. It’s a short ride into town, especially with how Billy drives. When he comes to a stop outside the arcade you climb out, pulling the seat forward to allow Max out.

“I’ll meet you in there.” you tell her. Needing no explanation, Max jogs to the doors slipping into the dimly lit building. You can see the boys' bikes already lined up outside. “You coming?” you ask Billy, leaning back into the car.

“Hell no. I can babysit just fine from here. You couldn’t pay me to go into that dork pit.” He scoffs. You roll your eyes at his stubbornness.

“Oh come on, tough guy. Where is your sense of adventure and whimsy.” you ask, only receiving an unimpressed look in return.

“Whimsy?” He asks, his lip curling at the word.

“I’ll buy you a coke.” you offer, hoping that bribery will soften his resolve. Billy’s lips press into a firm line, you can see his jaw tick as he grinds his teeth.

“Fine.” he says after a moment. “But I have to run an errand real quick.” He tells you. Thinking this is some kind of trick to get out of coming in, you narrow your eyes.

“You promise to come in when you get back?” you ask, extending your pinky to him. He lifts a brow, a dry laugh escaping him.

“What are you 12?” He asks. When you don’t show any signs of joking he heaves a sigh, linking his pinky with yours. “Fine, yes. I promise I’ll come back and watch you be terrible at dig dug, dork.” He promises with a teasing smirk.

“Good.” you smile, letting his pinky go and stepping back. “And I’m not that bad.” you clarify, closing the door and allowing him to pull away from the curb.

It turns out that you ARE that bad.

Max allows you to take the first turn, even offering you pointers, but by the end of your third turn she takes over explaining that she can’t stand watching you throw away quarters like that. You’re a sorry excuse for a gamer, your brain having trouble communicating quickly enough with your hands on the controls. It’s alright though, you have more fun watching Max and the boys take turns trying to beat each other's scores.

The longer you observe the group of adolescents the more you note the change in dynamic among them. Max and Lucus are openly interested in each other but don’t seem to know how to navigate this new realm of relationship. Mike appears distracted, constantly glancing at his watch. You assume he’s anxious to see El. You know that Hopper has started allowing the two to hang out at the cabin and though you’ve pushed for El to have more social time, Hopper's old habits die hard. His paranoia is persistent. You can’t say that you don’t understand where he’s coming from.

Dustin and Will seem more irritated than anything with the new shift in priorities within the group.

After roughly 30 minutes of watching Max wipe the floor with the boys scores, you venture to the opposite side of the arcade. You want to give the group space but also stay close enough to keep an eye on them. You scan the games, searching for one that you can play without too much instruction. Ms. Pac-Man seems to be simple enough, and it’s located in a spot that allows you to watch your group bounce from game to game.

Inserting your first quarter you begin the game. You’re able to keep up at first, but when the ghosts start to speed up you can't seem to evade them quick enough. After your 4th quarter your pride is stinging.

“Fuck…” you curse to yourself as once again you are cornered by the little red ghost. Before you can insert another quarter, you feel someone approaching from your left, coming too close to just be passing by, tensing your hand itches to lash out but you stop yourself when you realize who it is.

“Hey.” Keiths’ monotone voice greets you. You know him from school, and to your knowledge the two of you had never actually spoken to each other.

“Hi Keith.” you reply politely. You aren’t sure why he’s approaching you. You know that he works here so possibly you were doing something wrong. “What’s up?” you ask. Kieth seems to swallow past something in his struggle to speak.

“I see you around sometimes.” he tells you, unable to meet your eyes. You don’t know what to say to that.

“Yea, I babysit so I come in to keep an eye on my kids sometimes.” you tell him.

“That’s cool.” he mumbles “You know I could help you with some of the games if you want. Are you alone today?” He asks. You know he doesn't mean for it to sound as creepy as it does but you can’t help your slight cringe.

“No, I’m actually with-” you move to gesture towards Max but are cut off when Billy appears next to you, casually draping an arm over your shoulders.

“Me.” He finishes for you, keeping his eyes on Keith who looks like a deer caught in headlights.

“O-oh, cool.” Keith manages to mumble, taking a step back. “Nevermind then” he manages to get out, obviously resisting the urge to turn and run. Understandable with the way Billy is glaring daggers at him.

“I’ll see you around.” you offer Keith a kind smile. He only nods sheepishly before retreating further into the arcade. Sighing, you swat at Billy’s side, causing him to drop his arm from your shoulder with a chuckle.

“What was that for?” he asks, doing his best to look genuinely confused. You see right through it to the self satisfaction he's really feeling.

“Did you have to mad dog him? He was just saying ‘Hi’.” you tell him. Billy scoffs, moving to lean against the game.

“Yea, right.” He says, sarcasm dripping from every word. “You didn’t see how he’s been eyeing you, trying to work up the courage to come ‘say hi’.” he tells you, throwing air quotes around your words.

“And how long were you watching that?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest. Billy shakes his head, his curls falling across his forehead.

“You’re missing the point.” He tells you, deflecting the question.

“What point is that?” You ask, shaking your head as you dig a quarter out of your pocket and lean over to place it into the game. When you straighten up Billy has taken a step into your space. You could take a step back to give yourself some room, but you don't. You stand your ground, tilting your head up to meet his stare head on.

“The point is that you’re playing a game you don’t know the rules of and guys like that-” he jerks his chin in the direction Keith had run off. “Will take advantage of that.” he tells you, his voice low. You know he’s too close. That you should take a step back. That the way he’s looking down at you is too personal. That either one of you could close the distance between you with a breath.

“I’m not really good at games.” you admit, feeling the heat rushing to your face. Still you can’t seem to look away. Billy’s sharp gaze seems to soften slightly at your admission.

“I know…” He says softly, his eyes shifting between yours. “I just watched you die 4 times and not even make it past the first level of Pac-man.” He says, his teasing smirk overtaking all the gentleness that had once been in his eyes. Finally, you pull back shocked.

“You stalker!” you accuse, Billy just chuckles turning to face the game. “And I was multitasking.” you try to defend your abysmal performance, gesturing to the group now huddled around galaga.

“Sure, sure. Let me show you how it’s done.” he says confidently, starting the queued up game.

“Hey! That was my quarter!” You protest. Billy only chuckles again.

“I’ll get the next one, crazy.” he tells you, keeping his eyes fixed on the screen.

AN: sorry this took so long... again!

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multi-fandomfuckboy · 1 year ago

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Stranger Than Fiction

Part 22: Help

Billy Hargrove x Reader (Slowburn)

Part 1,... (Masterlist)...Part 23 (Coming Soon)...

AN: SURPRISE! Word Count: 3,744 Warnings: Language, suggestive comments

You stand for a moment longer, watching Billy’s car disappear around the corner. After a beat of silence, you notice how close you are standing to Steve, heat radiating off of him into your back, his hand still firmly wrapped around your bicep. Your eyes dart down to his hand, drawing his attention to your proximity as well. He lets go, offering you a small smile. You think you see a dusting of pink in the tips of his ears peeking out from his wet hair. He must be freezing.

“Thanks.” you say, returning his smile as you take a step towards his car. Trying not to pay attention to how cold it feels when you step away from him.

“No problem.” Steve says, following you.

After a short pause Steve speaks up again.

“Did he uh- say anything to you?” He asks, rubbing the back of his neck, keeping his gaze down as he pulls out his keys.

“No.” you answer. You’re not sure why you don’t tell Steve about what Billy says to you, but it’s something you want to keep to yourself. Standing at the passenger door, you wait for Steve to unlock the doors. Steve opens his door and quickly leans over the console to unlock yours. You rush to climb in, the cold already chasing away any warmth you had moments before.

“I think you should stay away from him.” Steve says, keeping his eyes forward as he starts the car. You gap at him for a moment, unsure what to say. “He’s dangerous.” He adds, finally looking at you. You can see the worry in his gaze, the tension in his shoulders. This isn’t the first time Steve has warned you about Billy, and you know he’s right. You rub your hands together, trying to chase away the cold.

“I know.” you say simply. Steve’s eyes catch on your hands, a bit of the tension leaves him as he turns on the heater and leans forward taking your hands in his.

“Here, put your hands close to the vent.” he instructs, guiding your hands closer to the heat. He cups his hands around yours to generate more warmth.

“Thanks.” you say, unable to stop the smile that pulls at your lips with his mothering. Noticing your smile Steve let’s go of your hands, clearing his throat.

“I’ll start leaving the door unlocked for you.” Steve says, pulling out of the spot.

“How kind of you… considering it’s the middle of December.” you snip back. Steve rolls his eyes, his own smile emerging.

“You’re lucky I don’t make you walk, babysitter.” she shoots back.

“Are you kidding? You wouldn’t last 2 minutes without me.” you challenge. Steve scoffs.

“You’re delusional. What do you think I do when you’re not here?” He asks, clearly struggling to hold back his smile.

“Wait for me to get back, obviously.” you say matter of factly. A barking laugh escapes Steve, causing you to laugh as well. You’re thankful that the conversation had shifted away from Billy. Steve is your closest friend, and you don’t want him worrying about you like that.

Steve talks about practice as he drives towards your house. You recall what Nancy said about asking Steve for help with history as he pulls into his usual spot on the street in front of your house.

“Hey Steve, can I ask you something?” You begin.

“Yes, you can use the shampoo I bring over.” He answers smirking as he reaches into the back to grab his bag.

“Not that.” You chuckle, slapping his shoulder.

“Alright, what is it actually?” He asks moving to climb out of the car. You move to follow, swallowing past your rising embarrassment.

“Do you think you could help me with history?” You ask as the two of you make your way up the driveway. Steve stops, turning to look at you fully, his eyes bright.

“Sure! I love history!” He gushes. Relief washes through you. Not only at his enthusiasm to help but also the lack of judgment in his gaze.

The two of you enter the house and quickly get set up at the kitchen table. You do your best to stay quiet, not wanting to wake your mom before her alarm.

“So, we are covering the Great Depression right now.” you explain, opening your textbook between you so he can see the pages as well.

“Cool.” He says, still smiling brightly. “Did you know that the first political office Hoover held was the presidency?” He explains, not even glancing at the book spread between you. “Maybe that’s why he didn’t really know how to handle a country wide job shortage,” he adds. “Oh! And did you know that …”

You quickly learn that Steve's interest in history is largely recreational. You don't gain much from his interesting facts and trivia he seems to be able to rattle off. You have little hope that any of the information you have gained will aid you in the upcoming exam.

After about an hour, you thank Steve for his help and usher him out of the house before your mom gets up.

Instead of focusing on your dwindling options, you get started on dinner. The failed quiz still tucked away in your back pocket. You weigh your choices as you mix together the ingredients for your grandma’s spaghetti sauce, it’s one of your favorite dishes and making it is almost therapeutic.

You could hire a tutor, you have a little bit of money saved up now. It would almost certainly demolish your college fund though. Billy’s offer flashes through your mind.

No. That is definitely a bad idea. He has to have some hidden agenda, why else would he offer to help? Plus you’re fairly certain Steve would have a heart attack if you start spending time with Billy, no matter the circumstances.

“Good morning, Kiddo.” Your mom greets you, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she enters the kitchen. “More like ‘Good night’, right?” she asks, chuckling lightly at her own joke. Coming around the counter she grabs a cup of coffee.

“Morning, Mom.” you say, offering her your best attempt at a smile. Taking her coffee back to the counter she takes a seat across from you, blowing gently on the steaming liquid.

“Was that Steve I heard earlier?” She asks, keeping her eyes on you as she takes a tentative sip of her coffee.

“Yea, he came over to study.” you tell her, grabbing a rag from below the sink to start wiping down the kitchen.

“You too have been spending a lot of time together.” She says, hiding a knowing smile behind her mug.

“Mom.” you warn, rolling your eyes. She only chuckles at your exasperation.

“It’s just too easy to tease you honey.” She says, taking another sip. “How are your classes going? Any A’s to report?” She asks casually. You know she is only curious, but it stings anyway. You turn away, taking a pile of dishes to the sink.

“School’s good.” you reply simply. You can feel her eyes on your back as you dip the dishes into the lukewarm soapy water filling the sink. There is pause, you know she’s reading your body language. It’s a skill you inherited from her but sometimes you wish she was a little less observant.

“Are you doing okay?” She asks gently. It’s a loaded question, and you know it. It’s been a long year, and you can feel her thoughts turning to where you were this summer.

“I’m good.” you say, trying to relax your features enough to give her a convincing smile over your shoulder. She’s watching you carefully, lowering her coffee.

“You sure there’s nothing I can help with?” She asks, clearly not convinced. You shake your head, turning back to the dishes. There is no way you can tell her about your grades, or ask her for a tutor. She already works so much and that’s barely enough for the two of you.

“I said I’m okay, mom.” you say firmly, scrubbing harder at a particularly stubborn splash of pasta sauce. Glancing up at the clock above the sink, you sigh. “You had better hurry though.” you say nodding toward the clock. “Looks like you’re running behind.”

Her eyes widen, looking at her own watch.

“Damn!” She curses, standing quickly from her seat. “You’d think at my age I would have developed some form of time management.” She clicks her tongue, grabbing her nursing bag from the table. You see her cast a disappointed glance at her half finished coffee. “And I didn’t even finish-'' You set her lunch in front of her as well as a travel thermos of coffee.

Her face softens, filling with gratitude and love.

“What would I do without you?” She gushes, taking both and stowing them in her bag.

“I don’t know, probably starve.” you tease. You groan as she pulls you into a tight hug placing a kiss on your cheek. As she pulls away she hesitates, her eyes searching your face. You see the worry in her eyes, the thought alone causes your heart to constrict.

“I love you, kiddo. Just…” she pauses, cupping your cheek gently with her palm. “Don’t be afraid to ask for help.” she says, keeping her eyes on yours. Shame washes through you at her words.

“I know mom.” you respond reflexively. “You’re going to be late.” you remind her. Smiling, she pats your cheek before rushing out the door.

You watch her pull out of the driveway, waving goodbye as she disappears down the street. You pause, standing on your porch. Taking a deep breath in, the cold air stings your lungs. Reaching into your back pocket, you pull out your quiz. Unfolding it, you glare down at the damning red ink.

You need help.

Turning on your heel, you walk quickly back into the house. Half a plan forming in your mind as you pack a container of food. Shoving the leftovers into your bag, along with the quiz, you grab your coat and start walking.

---

You reach Cherry Lane a quarter after seven. The sun had disappeared shortly after you started walking. The only light illuminating your path are the intermittent street lamps.

You don’t really have a plan, just a general direction and a desperate need.

You need help with U.S History. That much is obvious. Nancy is too technical, Steve’s not technical enough, and paying for an actual tutor is the last thing you want to do.

Billy offered to help… for nothing. As much as you hate the idea of asking him for help… he’s your best bet.

“4819.” you read the numbers on the mailbox as you slowly approach the house. There are two cars in the driveway, one of them is Billy’s camaro the other is the Hargrove’s family car. There are lights on inside the house, but the porch light is off. Your stomach twists thinking of the last time you stood on those steps. You have no intention of interacting with Niel Hargrove anytime soon.

Scanning the area, you quickly form a plan. All you need to do is talk to Billy for a minute, no need to disturb the whole family.

Sticking to the shadows, you move around to the back of the house. There is a small yard with patches of dead grass illuminated by the light shining from the windows. Staying low, you hug close to the house, crouching beneath the first window. You poke your head up just enough to see into the back of the kitchen. You can see Neil, Max, and Susan at the dinner table, everyone's attention on the TV in the living room. No Billy though. Marking that as strange, you crouch back down to move to the next window.

Unfortunately, the next window you come to is too high for you to see into. Glancing around you spot a plastic crate propped against the paneling. Doing your best to stay quiet, you position the crate under the window and place one foot on it, testing to be sure the plastic can hold your weight. Stepping fully onto it you can see into the room.

This room is clearly Billy’s. There are band posters on the walls, clothes littered over the floor and a stereo on the dresser next to more tapes than you can count. Looking around you can see Billy laying on his bed, flipping through a magazine. Checking one more time that his bedroom door is closed, you take a deep breath.

A small voice in the back of your mind screams that this is insane, it sounds strangely like Steve. Ignoring that part of yourself, you quietly rap your knuckles against the glass. Billy immediately sits up, looking around for the source of the sound. When he doesn't notice you at the window you gently knock again.

His eyes cut to you and he looks startled seeing you there. Recovering from the shock, he glances to his door before getting off the bed and coming closer. You see his mouth move, mumbling what you can only assume is something along the lines of “Fucking crazy ass…” before he flicks the lock on the window, sliding it open.

“You scared the shit out of me, loca!” he scolds you. But you can see the amusement mixed into his annoyed expression.

“Sorry.” You apologize, the embarrassment radiating to your face. “I need to talk to you.” you explain. His eyes search yours and you have to look away, you feel yourself shaking, more from your nerves but the cold isn’t helping any.

Billy sighs, running a hand through his curls. He glances over his shoulder to the door again, before looking back to you.

“Well, there’s no use in you freezing your ass off outside.” he grumbles. Before you can protest, Billy leans down and grabs your arms firmly, hauling you up through the window. You do your best to suppress the yelp of surprise that comes from you as you scramble into the room. You ungracefully fall to the floor, banging your knee on Billy’s dresser.

“Ouch!” you hiss, instinctively cradling your knee. “You could really be more-” your complaint is silenced by Billy’s hand over your mouth.

“Shhh!” he hisses in your ear, kneeling tensely next to you on the floor. His eyes are trained on the door. There is a beat of silence. You can hear the faint sound of the TV from the living room, and the scrape of silverware on plates. When it’s clear that no one is coming, you feel Billy release a breath, removing his hand.

“Thought I heard something.” he says, moving to sit with his back against the wall. You rub your aching knee as you watch him snag a pack of cigarettes from his night stand. Placing one between his lips, you think you see his hand shake as he lights it, inhaling deeply. The next inhale his eyes return to you, still sitting on the floor in front of him.

“What is it you want?” he asks pointedly. “Or did you sneak into my bedroom just to look at me?” He asks lifting a brow suggestively. Your nerves ease slightly at the sight of his familiar smirk.

“Right.” you say, reminding yourself of the whole reason you came to him in the first place. Struggling off your backpack you pull out the container of pasta and your quiz. “I came here to bribe you.” you explain offering the container to him.

“What?” He asks, looking between you and your extended offering.

“Listen, I really need help in history.” you blurt out. “I can’t afford to pay you, but I’m a pretty good cook and I can bake too.” you explain. Billy’s eyes remain fixed on yours, a strange mix of confusion and what you think is shock. The container of food suddenly feels heavy in the air between you. Billy doesn't say anything for a moment and you can feel the embarrassment and panic begin to creep up your throat. Your heart sinks at his apparent rejection. It was a long shot, but at least you tried.

Sighing, you set the container on the carpet between you and start to zip up your bag.

“Sorry about scaring you.” you say, moving to stand. “I’ll just-”

“Can you make meatloaf?” Billy asks suddenly, cutting you off. You watch him with wide eyes as he leans forward taking the container and popping the top open the peer at the contents.

“Yea, I can make meatloaf.” you tell him, a small smile pulling at your lips. Billy nods, placing his cigarette in the ashtray.

“Good.” he says, extending his hand. “I’ll help you.” You can’t stop the side smile from your lips at his words.

“Thank you!” You exclaim, taking his hand and shaking it enthusiastically.

“Alright, alright, calm down crazy.” He grumbles, but you’re certain you see a twitch at the corner of his mouth. “I owe you anyway.” He adds, dropping your hand. Before you can ask him what he means, he stands, taking whe food with him to sit on the bed. “When do you want to start?” He asks, taking the lid off the container fully and poking at the contents with his finger.

“As soon as possible. The midterm is on Friday so that only gives us-”

“5 days!?” Billy asks in disbelief. “You’re telling me I have to cover 6 weeks of material in 5 days?” He clarifies. You swallow, nodding as you bite the inside of your cheek.

“Well 4 days if you don’t count today.” you clarify. Billy’s eyes narrow on you in a glare.

“The day’s not over yet loca. When we start is no longer up to you.” He informs you.

“What do you mean?” you ask, watching as he begins eating with his fingers.

“I mean,” he begins, speaking around a mouthful of pasta. “We start now.” he says. “Grab the history book off the desk.” he instructs, taking another bite.

You gap at him for a moment, still reeling from the fact that you are now officially being tutored by Billy Hargrove.

Billy rolls his eyes.

“If you don’t start listening to me I’m going to throw your crazy ass back out that window and you can find some other sucker to teach you.” he says, waving a sauce-covered digit in your direction.

“Right.” you say, unable to stop yourself from rolling your eyes at his antics. You grab the textbook from his desk and turn, catching sight of the stack of flashcards you had made with Nancy. “Oh, that reminds me, I already made a couple flashcards so we can-” Billy scoffs.

“Flashcards?” he shakes his head. “We aren’t going to train you like some seal. You’re going to actually LEARN the material, not just memorize trivia.” he explains, shoveling another finger full of food into his mouth.

“I’m not really sure how we are going to do that.” you say, looking down at the book in your hands. “I don’t know what it is, but history just doesn't stick in my head.” you admit feeling the slight sting in admitting that fact out loud.

“Everyone has their thing.” Billy says, scooting back to give you space to sit on the bed. You hesitate looking at the small space next to him on the twin bed. Seeing your hesitance Billy scoffs again. “Calm down Loca, I won’t bite. Until you ask me to.” he says, giving you a flirty wink. The shameless come-on actually makes you chuckle, your nerves settling.

“Don’t hold your breath.” you respond, moving up the bed to sit next to him. Folding your legs under you, you open the textbook to the correct section.

“You like to write, right? Like stories and stuff?” Billy asks. Your brows draw together in confusion.

“Yea?” you confirm, not sure where he is going with this.

“We all have subjects we are stronger in, it’s just the way our brains work. I think you are thinking about history the wrong way. If you want to actually learn it you have to convert it into something that makes sense to you. If you’re good at writing stories, we need to frame history like a story, so it sticks in your head.” Billy explains. You’re actually stunned by the analysis. Not only is it possible, it’s even more shocking to have come from Billy. All you can do is stare at him for a moment.

His eyes are on the food he’s nearly devoured. He scoops the last remaining bits of pasta into his mouth, running his finger through the sauce at the bottom of the container, popping it in his mouth and licking it clean. He closes his eyes for a moment at the taste. You study the column of his throat. His adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. You can see the slight stubble along his jaw that has grown throughout the day. His tongue slides along his bottom lip, searching for any remaining sauce. Your stomach twists.

“What are you looking at?” Billy’s voice startles you. Looking back up, his eyes are on you.

“Uh-” you stammer, looking away, at anything other than his blue eyes. You can’t seem to think of an excuse. “I was just looking at-” you swallow thickly, feeling heat creep up your neck.

“What you should be looking at is Chapter 27.” Billy snaps.

“Right.” you say, flipping to the correct chapter. Your embarrassment grows as you hear him huff a light laugh.

“Unless you want to study something else.” he teases, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” you grumble focusing on the textbook. “You just have sauce on your face.” you lie. You feel Billy reach up to swipe at his face to get the invisible sauce in question. You would laugh but as you read over the first paragraph of the section, your stomach sinks.

This is insane. There is too much. There is no way-

“Alright, let’s talk about one of the lowest points in American history.” Billy begins, setting the now empty container aside. “In order to understand the Great Depression you need to see the rise that came before the fall.” he continues, sitting up. His knee bumps against yours as he pulls the textbook to sit between you.

AN: I hope you guys like this and I hope it was worth the wait. You'll hear from me soon :)

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