#Neil is absolutely fucked up but he's always ready to throw down at a moment's notice

[maeofthedead]

God, the bit in TSC where Jean is furious at the accusation that he didn't fight back because he did. Until one day he just couldn't get back up.

He was just a kid. He still is

[withoneheadlight]

| a house (is a home) | (i). the keys | (ii). memories&herons | (iii). old dogs&inheritances | (iv). memorabilia | tinyplaylist |

~

The kitchen’s Steve’s favorite part of the house.

It has this odd shape. Trapezoid. “Fuck, Stevie, so goddamn weird”. Doesn’t make sense in a, on the other hand, perfectly rectangular house (or, well, it does but, they’ll only find out about that later). The cabinets are ceiling-high. The tiles of the wall white and cracked under the repeating pattern of light mint-green-stemmed, yellow-petaled lilies. The whole backdoor is painted on that same shade Billy calls Ripe banana dreams, both so terribly old-fashioned and fiercely cute none of them says a word about repainting it. There’s a wooden piece, built into the farthest end of the counter. It looks disgustingly juicy and mercilessly stabbed when they move in, but Billy insists on keeping it, and sanding, and treating, and varnishing it. Manages to get it back up on shape because “Better than anyone, darling you should know what a little touch of class can make”. And for more than two weeks straight the only goal of his life is to learn to cut vegetables at high speed because “I have to live up to this level of professionalism. Impress our most un-impressionable guests”

(And, to Steve’s surprise –and probably hers– when she finally deigns to pay them a visit, his mom is, in fact, pretty much impressed.)

He learns how to make good casserole. Tries his luck with Mexican and Italian. Fails miserably with Japanese. Will never-ever admit it but, he loves it when flour ends up staining every single surface, making the biggest mess around himself when he bakes. Steve knows why it is. It’s a shared feeling. Floats up till it reaches the ceiling and bounces back down to them, heavy with the warm smell of cooking pie and cinnamon. Tastes docile and tamed like “Maybe not so much vanilla next time. Whaddaya think, babe?.” Tastes savage and daring, like the overwhelming tang of freshly squeezed lemon lingering on Billy’s tongue, when he crowds Steve against the fridge and kisses him, nibbles a shuddering laugh out of him “How the fuck are you able to even think about putting your mouth near that thing, Hargrove?. That was––ugh. That was disgusting”, “Well you know me, whatever it takes to make you squirm” leaving Steve with absolutely no option but lick the sugary dough stain over his cheek to “Cover up that foul flavor” and maybe because he wants to make Billy squirm a little too. 

It’s a heart-warming, welcoming feeling. Like the vivid smells of green tomatoes and parsley and mustard sauce. Like the taste of love on Billy’s lips. The way he loses his breath when Steve kisses the sugary flavor into Billy’s mouth with his:

This place smells like home, tastes like home. Like finally, finally. Home.

It’s Billy’s favorite place, too. But Steve doesn’t think it’s just because of that. But also because maybe,

maybe.

He has also noticed that–

There’s this particular, particular moment. It happens around seven on autumns, right when the day starts to fade. It happens between six and six past twenty-eight on winters, and holds the sleepy cheeks of the newborn tulips on Steve’s garden till they fall asleep on springs, sun already sinking behind the horizon by the time both hands of the clock meet over the spiral of the eight, pointing towards infinity. And then grows bigger and bigger and bigger from there, flooding into summer: the golden sunlight seeping through the wide, double-paned window facing the backyard in an oblique angle, making the yellow flowers of the tiles look like they’re re-blooming in gold. 

It’s the moment the day turns into a fire. 

It’s their favorite moment in time. And in this particular, particular day of July, it happens at ten past nine.

Billy is making Spaghetti Carbonara. The kitchen is damp with the rich smells coming out of the boiling water. Mushrooms and oregano, black pepper and lime. A song is cooing at them from the radio, the beat of the drums a boneless memory of that one echoing around the quarry on faraway almost-night on a faraway July. Water rippling under the quiet sigh of the breeze. Trees cutting the liquid rays in asymmetric halves. 

Billy takes off the apron. Turns the stove down.

Reaches out to Steve, fingers wavering come, come, come.

To me. Come to me. “C’mon, Harrington. Do I scare you or what?“

He has this way of looking at Steve that makes the space between them narrow, narrow: the whole unknown world. And aseptic, non-lived-in flat in downtown Florida. This tiny, tiny town. A mysteriously-shaped kitchen––

“¿Can I have this dance?” 

Steve walks to him, takes his hand. 

––Their bodies, pressed flush. 

Inside his chest, Steve’s heart is running. 

(“Can I at least have this dance, before we say goodbye?”

Mazzy Star was playing. The corner of Billy’s eye felt wet where his skin brushed against the corner of Steve’s mouth. They danced till the daylight faded, till there were teardrops falling from the night sky.

“Billy, I don’t have to––” 

“Don’t, pretty boy. Don’t say it. I’ll make you stay if you do. And I can’t do that”)

They made lovelovelove on the back of Billy’s car.)

In this light, they fell in love, they fell apart. Ran away. Ran back. 

Steve nudges at Billy’s chest, makes him move backward till he’s far enough to tug, draw him in between their tangled arms, hands intertwined. Steve curls himself around Billy’s back, noses at the warmth trapped between his curls. He smells like BillyandSteve, like this home, like past, like future. Like us.

Steve whispers in his ear. Three words. Billy’s neck curves towards him. An instinct. Tickled by their warmth. Steve kisses the curve of his ear. Tugs the collar of his shirt aside, bites where shoulder meets neck and up, up.

“Easy, Prom King” Billy teases, grins at him tender and wild. Knows when to use the one that gets Steve every time “Or you’re gonna make me think we’ll become picture-perfect from this magical moment onwards. A bunch of kids. White fences. You know, the whole shebang” 

(Billy crashed the Camaro into a tree in the winter of two thousand and fourteen. Had left the house in a frenzy. Something happened Max wouldn’t talk about. But she was scared, so she had called,

“Find him. Please.. Make sure he’s alright”

When Steve found him, Billy was in the middle of the Brookville road, feet stumbling on the twin yellow lines, following them nowhere. So weary, so impossibly small like this: head hanging, arms wrapped around himself. A crooked shape, carrying the weight of the shadows the tall pine trees cast on his back.  

So unlike him. 

Steve stopped the car at his side, engine oozing steam, shaking in the icy mid-May air “Billy” he said. Low. Careful. Careful. Billy’s eyes looked wet in the moon-silver night, pupils blown, deceivingly calm, “What are you doing? This is dangerous” And Billy’s spine had bent even lower, forearms finding rest on the window frame. Leveling with Steve. Looking wasted, looking tired, but still, he flashed a grin at him, teeth-shark white, never going down if he wasn’t going down swinging. And Steve–– hadn’t known at the moment, but the blood staining his cheek, the screaming-purple mark around his eye.

Those weren’t from the crash.

 “I was sleepwalking, Harrington” he said, voice dry, laugh harsh. Shrugged “Waiting for a lucky strike”)

“What does it make you think that’s not what I’m aiming for?”

(When he took Billy to his house Max was already there. Had sneaked out. “Neil will kill you if he finds out,” Billy said and she nodded, white knuckles peaking red with how hard she was gripping the handler of her bike, and Steve hadn’t seen her cry before, not ever, but her eyes were swollen and wet and,

“Are you––”

“I’m alright, kiddo. You know me. I’m always alright”

And the lie sat heavy, between them. Two lies, covering the truth. Poorly stitched. But Max had called Steve for help, so that’s what he did. Help. Sent her back home. Took care of Billy’s face. Billy’s hands. Nodded at those same lies, let them do their work while taking care of wounds he didn’t know, back then, couldn't have been for a crash. Made him spend the night. 

Billy still hadn't woken up when Steve left the next day, leaving food and a note on the nightstand ‘I’ll be back soon. Stay’. 

Retraced Billy’s steps down the yellow lines splitting the forest in half. To find it.

The Camaro wasn’t done yet. Howled like a wounded beast under Steve’s touch, but stayed together all the way to Donny’s garage. And Steve paid for the repairs. Covered it all up. Max has said “His dad can’t know, Steve. Can’t know. If he finds out he will--” and steve was starting to put two and two together. To realize some billy was, maybe, running away from something. Someone. When he crashed his car.

Woke Billy up when the hands of the clock met over the spiraling infinity of the eight. Seventeen hours straight of sleep and still looking like he could use a lifetime. Told him “The car will be ready in two or three days. ‘Til then, you stay'' covered his mouth with his hand. Didn't let him complain “And If whatever happened last night happens again, you take it and you run. Back here. And you stay again, ok?”

Two weeks later, Billy showed up at his door. Lit him a cigarette. Offered to teach him how to fight.

“I cannot give you back your money, but I know you don’t need that”

Made him laugh.

They spent almost the whole summer together, after that. Some days. Most nights.

Wasting time. Fighting. Joking. Driving.

Falling.

No ‘what ifs’. No promises. Just,

“Leave the light on if you can’t sleep, pretty boy. If I manage to sneak out of the Old fuck, I’ll pick you up. Promise I won’t stop kissing you until dawn. Gotta make up for what you paid for that ca, uh?”

Because Steve was gonna leave. Wasn’t gonna throw a single glance behind his back.

That was the plan.

And he did. He did. But––)

He spins Billy out. Tugs him back. When their chests bump, his laugh bursts, bubbles up. Weightless. Happy. Because all that matters to him, to them, it’s between these four irregular walls now.

And God this, this, is Steve’s favorite part. 

(–ended up coming back running, hoping the love would re-stitch itself as he followed the road’s yellow lines. 

Hoping Billy was the one letting his light on this time.)

Because the sun’s gonna keep on shining. They can keep on dancing in here, in their weird trapezoidal kitchen (in their house, in their home), for as long as they want. Hearts touching. Lips brushing. Bodies swaying, spinning, cutting through the golden light. 

~

[okaybutlikeimagine]

ok by i cannot stop thinking about billy just losing his fucking mind to dream on by aerosmith. like his dad just went too far or he found out about him and steve and now hes tearing his room apart like a mad man, throwing records and smashing bottles and shit. and its not even just like angry hes like /crying/ like he cannot even for a second know peace and happiness and this has been on my mind for MONTHS

TW: physical abuse, blood, homophobic slurs ((f-slur)), verbal abuse, mental breakdown, cussing

Honey, ever since i got this i haven’t been able to stop thinking about it either ohmyGOD???? This is legitimately a PEAK Billy “i’m absolutely sick of all of this and i need out NOW” Hargrove anthem!! God if i could direct this i would but unfortunately i’m bound to words on my silly little blog so i hope this will do, love. ♥ (@venomdean)

Because it’s absolutely explosive. I kind of hate to think about it, but I feel like Billy is like a landmine. He’s a pot always threatening to boil over. He’s on constant vibrate just about ready to pop. He’s always on the edge of going absolutely feral because the only certain thing he’s felt for years and years is pain.

And you’re right- on both accounts. Neil finds out… and he goes too far.

Because Neil has been hearing all around town that Billy has been running around with “that Harrington boy”. You know, the son of that really influential family, the boy who “has all the opportunities in the world” but “seems to be amounting to nothing… what a shame. You know, his parents couldn’t even pay a school to take him. What a pity. I knew it would happen though...”

And Neil just hoped it wasn’t true. He hears it every time he goes to the grocery store. The voices follow him down the aisles, either from mothers who whisper about how “That’s Neil Hargrove. His son is that curly haired one I told you about. The different one.” or from teens who hiss about how “That’s Billy’s dad. Wonder if he knows his son is probably a fa-”

And one day Billy comes home happy. And i’d encourage you to really think about that and just enjoy it for as long as you can because Billy is happy. So happy he’s beaming. He feels like he’s glowing from the inside. He forgets that anyone other than Steve even exists. For a second he forgets his own existence, he’s so enamored and infatuated and near obsessed, really. Because he spent the whole afternoon with the boy, which isn’t necessarily a rare occurrence but it’s always an exceptional one, and today was especially joyful because something about their mutual existence just felt so…. So good. Yeah they had sex in the camaro like the teenagers they are and then again in Hansen’s field because it’s fucking massive and Hansen’s away on some trip and they blasted hippie music and fucked in a field of flowers and pretended like they were at Woodstock just existing in the skin of the other like they were made for it. Like they were made to share each other’s bodies and they were finally completing their infinite and perpetual task. And Billy would never be able to say these words or perhaps even string them together but it’s about the feeling.

Because that’s just the feeling he has. The nameless feeling.

And they fucked and they thought about smoking and they thought about drinking but they stayed high on each other and that was enough. They were laying there among the daisies happier than anything else in existence and Billy’s not even sure why. But they laid there and Billy felt the sun lay a large blanket of the softest warmth right over him and he absolutely reveled in it, allowing his hand to grace Steve’s fingers and then he rolled over to lay his head on Steve’s shoulder and he can’t believe he does that without feeling like a stupid fucking sissy but… but Steve’s always there. Always always always there. Stronger than he looks and warm and supportive and there. And Steve started to curl some of Billy’s hair around his finger and Billy pretended to bite at him like he was irritated and Steve whispered something about love and you and me and California and after graduation… i should have enough money by then. Let’s do it. Just you and me.

And Billy’s whole world froze. Froze in warmth, incubated in love, goddamn teeming with adoration as he got up on his elbows and evaluated Steve’s face just to be sure it wasn’t a joke and saw that it wasn’t and absolutely 100% beamed. Because the words and Steve’s eyes and the warmth of the sun on his back painted, stroke by stroke, the image of the two of them in California. On the beach. In the soft sand. Enjoying the sunlight. Playing in the waves. Billy teaching Steve how to surf, Billy dragging Steve under the boardwalk, Billy and Steve getting sticky with popsicles and soft serve and fresh watermelon and strawberries, Billy rollerskating hand in hand with Steve just like he used to watch all those couples do back when he was 9 years old and questioning everything. Billy and Steve existing freely. Openly and honestly. It can only have gotten better. He’s sure of it. It can only get better from this stupid hick town. He knows it.

He needs it.

And so they make out some more and the rest of the afternoon is a whirlwind up until he’s got Steve pressed up against the Camaro making out with him on that backroad and then again in front of Steve’s house and he’s letting his skin light up over every little promise of you and me in California… that Steve whispers into his skin, his ears, his mouth...

He feels fucking invincable.

He walks into his house with a forcefield. A smile he never sports. A bounce in his step he never maintains. Goddamn happiness. Not even just confidence, it’s pure bliss on his face and not even Neil’s ugly mug can ruin it. Not even Neil storming down the hall, electricity following his path, can ruin it. Not even Neil scowling, glaring daggers, lip snarled, teeth bared, can ruin it. Not even whatever gross, growling worlds Neil is spitting his way can ruin it.

Billy is blissed out on the future and the idea of pure bliss with a boy he thinks he knows he loves that he doesn’t feel it until even moments after. He doesn’t see it til it’s over. He doesn’t know it til he can’t defend himself. He doesn’t care until he does.

It’s a mistake.

When Billy thinks back on it afterwards, after everything, he heaves and hisses and snarls at his past, blissed out self. He wants to punch himself in the face for such a mistake. This is a lesson he learned years ago. Back when it all first started. Back when he was so young.

But current Billy is blissed all the way up until his world flashes black. Until his ears ring. Until his hand flies to his face of its own accord to press at the pain to get it to stop. Second nature.

“You stupid fucking homo.”

And Billy’s vision bleeds red. It’s anger, it’s rage, it’s betrayal. His vision tunnels with vitriol. With scorn. Fight or flight kicks in and every smart part of Billy is yelling run but the dumber, closer, stronger parts say fuck him fuck him fuck him I don’t deserve this.

So his fist swings, rearing back and surging forward. Animalistic nature.

He thinks he makes purchase, but if he’s honest, the rest is a too quick blur. A mess of motion. Someone presses fast-forward on his VHS tape. The moments bleed together.

It’s a montage of angered words. Words beyond anger. Words that poison his system. Words like “homo” and “fag” and “disgrace” and “military school” and Billy checks in right there because-

“You’re going to military school, you worthless piece of shit.”

Billy spits in the man’s face. Longtime craving.

And then the world blacks out again. It’s blurrier now. His face is warm. There’s liquid gushing out. His wrist is sore and the ground is being taken out from beneath him and he realizes he’s being grabbed and pulled and then dragged because his body is feeling weak. Call it a mix of everything.

And he’s being dragged to his room and the world shatters when they cross the threshold because this place is the only place in this damn house he feels somewhat safe in. And he feels himself hit the ground heavily, right in front of his mirror. Feels himself being pulled up to be seated. Hears a rustling. Hears a weirdly familiar sound his mind can’t process. Sees something metal in the mirror before his hair is being grabbed and pulled taught and then there’s slack and the pressure is gone and-

“How could you fucking do this to me?”

More hair pulling, more growling, more yelling, some spit.

“You’ve been running around with that prissy boy. How long, huh?”

Then there’s slack and-

“Everyone talks about you two. Disgusting.”

Pulling pulling pulling pulling… something tickling his arms.

“Saw you two… outside his house, huh? You’re a disgrace.”

Wetness. Billy’s face is wet. His eyes burn. His throat burns. There’s slack again.

“You’re going to military school. Tomorrow. You’re out of here.”

Pulling and sawing and yanking and slack. Over and over and over and over-

“Hope I never see you again, you fag.”

Billy sobs. It wrenches through his chest. Pulling and slack, pulling and slack, over and over and-

It stops. Billy’s weak. His body is shutting down. It must be. It feels like it. The vision in the mirror is blurry but he knows the damage that’s been done. He can tell. He can feel. There’s nothing touching his shoulders anymore. Nothing against his neck. Something tickles down his arms. He shakes, weakly moving his hand to swipe the feeling away from his arms and grabs at tufts of hair.

There’s that ugly fucking mug, right in his face. It’s a strange look he wears. Billy’s vision is blurred. His lip snarls upward. Instinct.

“Where did I go wrong?”

The words are whispered in his face on hot breath. They hang in the air between them.

Billy shatters.

The door shuts loudly. Another door shuts after that. A car starts. Billy’s still sitting on the floor.

His muscles in his legs begin to contract, and then his arms. His vision clears and sharpens. He pushes himself up off the floor, avoids looking in the mirror, walks up next to it to his stereo, moves to turn on the radio…. Auto-pilot.

Music fills the room. Lilts through the air. Cuts through the humidity of the once cool night. The altercation warmed everything up. Must have.

There’s the sound of a keyboard and the plucking of a guitar. A familiar rhythm. It flows out of his stereo and through the room like it has a life of its own. It’s a spectral kind of presence, slinking out of the speakers, lurking in the corners, filling up the forgotten spaces with its haunting rhythm. Billy turns the music up louder. Stands in front of the stereo. Lets the music consume his space. Exist with him until they can’t co-habitate.

The chord gets more complicated. The chord runs. Billy’s feet feel like they’re going to betray him and let him fall through the floor. His head feels like it’s in another realm. A mirrored realm of darkness and vines… a world teeming with threats that wouldn’t think twice of making attempts on his life.

He sways in place.

When the voice starts his feet move. They betray his thoughts but they don’t compromise his balance, necessarily. He’s moving backwards.

Every time that I look in the mirror….

He can’t.

All these lines on my face getting clearer…

He knows he can’t. Not if he wants to keep his sanity. His breath gets shorter. His head is dizzy just from moving, even though he’s slow. Maybe it’s because he’s going backwards.

The past is gone

His head betrays him now. Swings itself over the edge- looks over to the left.. Billy’s eyes take a second to focus but it’s only an instant after that before his hands shoot up to his head. Grab at tiny curls. Grab at randomly long tufts. Grab at whatever they can reach which is almost nothing.

He’s shaking. His hand is shaking as his fingers grasp with a kind of desperation Billy has never known but is suddenly wracking his body in a way that overwhelms every piece of him until he’s nothing but fingers grasping for what should be where they’re reaching but is nowhere to be seen. He can’t see anything but himself in the mirror. The world blacks out but him and the mirror. His feet are still moving him somewhere. He’s looking at the mirror at an awkward angle.

He hits the couch in his room. His fingers clench and unclench. He flops down onto it.

It went by like dusk to dawn...

Clenching and unclenching until his fingers get sore and he slams his hands onto the couch to stop thinking about it but how can he when his… his reflection...

Isn’t that the way?

He’s grabbing at his blanket beneath him harshly. He fists it and his mouth opens in a grimace and his eyebrows furrow so hard his head hurts and his lip shakes and…

Everybody’s got their dues in life to pay~…

The voice is rising and the music is rising and the specter fills up the space with something passively threatening, something that gently nudges Billy’s shoulders, something that presses at Billy’s head, something present.

Billy’s fisting hard at the blanket. His fingers are sore. He pulls at it. His finger slips into a moth hold or two. The voice reaches the top, along with the guitar and then they both topple over the peak and there’s the sound of a rip and something under Billy gives out. He pulls harder, hearing more tears, fingers dipping into the rips he’s created in his blanket.

I know nobody knows… where it comes and where it goes

Billy looks down at his fists tearing his blanket and they stop, pull away… thoughtless. His hands shake to do something, maybe grab at his aching head and they do, he does- no, they do, his hands do, but they feel uneven tufts of curls and it’s a jolt. His brain shocks itself. He pulls his hands away with a cry because what is this. He’s become alien to himself. He sees the mirror in front of him but he’s not sure who he sees in it. It’s not him.

I know it’s everybody’s sin…. You’ve got to lose to know, how to win…

The music is with him. Towering over him. The presence is daunting. Feels like it’s challenging him to something as a separate chord climbs and falls as soon as it starts. The spectre falls down. Settles with him. Next to him. He stands. He’s unsettled. Nothing in the mirror is right nothing is right nothing is right. He shoves the flat part of his knuckles on his thumbs into his eyes to fix it, fix something, fix this image that doesn’t feel right. Fix this creature he doesn’t recognize. His mind is swimming.

He walks around the room. He’s not sure if this is easier or harder than before, but he still stumbles.

Half my life’s in books’ written pages… Lived and learned from fools and from sages…

He tucks his chin into his chest, his knuckles still pressed to his eyes, the world black and scattered with the spots he’s pressing into them. His stomach is twitching with sobs that meet up in his throat and push out of his mouth. They’re small. That same droning chord is persistent, rising and filling up into the room, aiming to devour him in something. Drown him.

You know it’s true-

The end grows into a growl and takes with it a feeling that’s animalistic. The specter grows feral. Billy opens his eyes.

His chest heaves. His eyes burn as they water. His mouth twists up in misery. Because he sees it. There. At his feet. Under his boots. He’s fucking stepping on it.

All the things…

His hair. In curly tufts on the ground beneath his feet and in front of them.

Come back to you…

He’s stepping on it.

He looks up and he recognizes his face now and he… he…. He’s….

He’s distraught.

And he rounds on absolutely anything he can reach. Whatever is in arm’s distance behind him and it happens to be his lamp and he grabs it and he throws it with all his might to the ground and-

Sing with me, sing for the year-

-and it shatters. His mind is racing and he has no thoughts past the music. The presence is dark. It’s a shadow. It’s all around him. It’s in his vision.

-sing for the laughter and sing for the tear...

He’s swinging. His eyes are blurry from his own hot tears and they sear his cheeks as he grabs at whatever he can- vaguely registers the necks of bottles and the grooves of records against his palm and beneath his fingertips as he hashes through the world around him, trying to tear through the shadows consuming him and the tears are flooding everything out and he’s just swinging and smashing and-

Sing with me, it’s just for today… maybe tomorrow the good lord will take you away~

He’s swinging and crashing and smashing like he’s being challenged. Threatened.. Whatever exists in this room with him is menacing. Malevolent. Feeding off his pain. Sipping it through his tears. He punches the wall and then the drums hit and they stop and the guitar is back and-

“Billy?”

It’s a voice. Billy’s sure it’s his own somehow. Sure it’s the song somehow. Sure it’s this presence somehow, whatever is it, floating through the chords of the song like a friend seeking a kill.

“B-Billy? I… Uhm…. Please stop.”

It’s small. Feminine. Familiar. Shaking.

“Please don’t hur-.... You’re going to hurt yourself.”

Maxine.

Billy strides to the door and throws it open. The violent thud it makes as the knob hits the wall fills something in Billy’s chest. It springs more tears in his eyes. His chest is sobbing.

“Billy?”

There’s something Billy can’t place in Max’s eyes. If his mind were even a tad clearer he thinks he’d recognize it… categorize it under worry or concern or care or even something deeper...

But the guitar chord hits a high note and the shadow specter of the music seeps into his mind and he’s a husk.

The chorus picks up again, singing about singing and Billy is standing there looking at this tiny red head standing in his way and she’s blurred by his tears and-

“Billy, what are you doing-”

“Mind your damn business, Maxine.”

“What happened-?”

“Mind your business.”

The music is rising. It fills Billy’s throat.

“Did… did he-? Do…?”

“Do what?” Billy spits down at Max, leaning over her, invading her space. Max’s eyes flood with fear and it makes Billy step back. The shadows of the song step away. He sees through the blur to find the girl.

“Do that?” She asks, voice small and soft and shaking and weak. Eyes filling with tears of their own and it fills Billy’s gut with bile and he’s so sick of it. So sick of everything. Thinks he might be sick. So fucking done. Broken. Feral.

Maybe tomorrow the good lord will take you away~

Billy’s eyes are filling. He glares as hard as he can while his eyelids are all mushy and swollen.

“Get out of my way, Maxine.”

She’s cowering.

“What are you gonna do?”

“Just get out of my way.” He growls and takes his arm and shoves and she stumbles back and the music is building and then he’s storming down the hallway, punching the walls and cracking every picture frame he passes and the voice is following him, sounding just as loud to him in the hallway as it did to him in his room as it chants-

Dream on… dream on… dream on… dream yourself a dream come true~

And he throws pillows off the couch and shatters a lamp on the ground with a shove and his blurry eyes search fervently for what he wants as the guitar wails and runs down and-

Dream on… dream on…. Dream on… dream until your dream come through~

And the guitar gets darker and he’s got it. Grabs it off the mantle. Looks as steadily as he can with shaking and blurry eyes at this thing in his hands. This picture frame... with their stupid family in it. This stupid thing they call family to convince others. It never convinced him. He’s not sure how it could have convinced anyone. His tears are so hot on his face they feel like they’re boiling and his nose is leaking and his saliva is runny and his chest is heaving and he’s-

“Billy?”

He’s thunder. He’s lightning and he’s rain. The music followed him down the hallway and follows him with heavier footsteps back up as the voice screams on with-

Dream on… dream on… dream on… dream on…

And each chant sees Billy taking the frame in his hands and slamming the corner of it into the wall of the hallway as he walks, goes back to his room, ignores Max as she cries to him some kind of garbled nonsense and the music is filling his shoes like a dark puddle and his eyes are drowned.

And the voice that was once singing is now screeching into the air, into the corners of his room, into the darkest parts and Billy looks at the stupid faces of these stupid people he’s been forced to love and thinks of how the only happiness in his life is going to be taken away from him and probably has been permanently taken away now because he’s fucking hideous with bruises and almost no hair and he’s wailing. Deep from his chest, right alongside the voice from the stereo, hurling the picture frame at his mirror blindly as he screams and hitting his target and hearing a loud crack as it shatters and he’s just screaming. Everything inside of him rising and bubbling and boiling over and over and over some more and he’s sure his body will never settle. He’ll never know peace. His mind and his body and his heart will never rest like it did this afternoon in that field with the warm sun and the blue sky and a love underneath him that was all his own for once for fucking once in his miserable life and he opens his eyes and he’s disgusted he’s a disgrace, he’s bruised and bloody and nearly bald and his fingers and knuckles are bruised and bleeding and in that cracked mirror is the most miserable version of himself and he can’t bear to look.

Sing with me-

He grabs the mirror.

Sing for the year-

He throws it to the ground. It covers his fallen hair.

Sing for the laughter-

He stomps it with his boot. Hot tears stain the toes of his shoe.

Sing for the tear-

He reaches for his bedsheets. He needs to take a few steps to get there.

Sing with me-

He tears at them, ripping all the way down. As far as he can.

Just for today.

His chest heaves. He rounds on his makeshift vanity. Swings his arms violently until it’s all on the ground as his feet, discarded and broken and cracked.

Maybe tomorrow the good lord will take you away-

He looks up from the ground. Up to Max, who’s hugging the door frame and shaking, watching with horror or what Billy thinks must be the equivalent. Something equivalent to it. The music and it’s guitar and the specter it’s conjured up is still rising, expanding, residing in every space of the room, pushing Billy out of the space and he’s struggling, fighting, mind getting so nervous and worried as it looks at Max that it needs to look away, needs to distract.

The song repeats itself as he reaches and throws and rips and tears everything in sight. Posters, picture frames, books, cassettes. He steps on everything, smashes everything, tears pour out and out and out, his mind is running and racing and throbbing in pain in hurt in worry in all of its unease and he picks up a hand weight and rounds towards the window and chucks it as hard as he can and-

The sound of the shattering of the window breaks everything. Breaks any resolve still left within him. Lets the shadow and spectre of the music out and into the night as the room is pitched into a bitter and unforgiving chill. Let’s all of Billy’s breath out of his lungs as he heaves and heaves and heaves like he’s going to hurl. He stands there, looking at the window, pictures something faint and distant and at one time hopeful in his mind before he turns around to Max and it’s just music now, the last of the words have been sung, and he mutters a dark and languid and miserable:

“Don’t wait up for me.”

And then he strides to the window and steps on the small table he has in front of it and jumps out and walks into the unfriendly night, a storm. More than a husk. Once again a human. At least, feeling something closer to human.

And then it’s just Max. She rushes to the window, the music turning into a haunting kind of alarm that doesn’t seem alert or at all worried or hurried or serious. A lazy alarm that warns you of an error in the system. She stands in front of the broken window, exposed to the cold, cutting her hand on the glass in her hurry to watch after Billy, watch as he leaves, watch as he stomps his way out of their house and out to the street and down the street and she’s crying. Her mind is spinning. Her face is heavy with tears and sorrow and fear. Her heaving subsides slowly as the music does.

She’s alone in this house. Truly alone. Not even the presence of Billy lingers like usual.

And then she runs to the phone to do the only thing she can think of- she dodges the carnage strewn across their house and runs to the phone and calls the only person she can think to call. The only person she thinks will for sure be able to help him from doing something crazy like leaving with nothing but the clothes on his back and whatever random cash he carries in his pocket.

Another song starts up slowly. The phone picks up.

“Jim Hopper speaking.”

[gallavictorious]

Top 5 Male Characters

I was tagged by @whaticameherefor - thanks, dear, this was fun!

Standard disclaimer: These are some of my favourites – I'd be hard-pressed to choose the actual top 5. Whom I love best varies a bit (though no 1 below will probably always be no 1).

Darth Vader/Anakin Skywalker (Star Wars)

This one strode straight into my heart on Boxing Day 1994, and it's fair to say that my life might well have looked rather different if he hadn't. Star Wars was my first big fandom, and it's still the one I keep in my heart of hearts, even if I'm not into Disney's revisionist stuff at all. (Which is a shame, because Rey, Poe and Finn are darling and I would have loved to see good movies wih them.) Darth Vader is kind of like a fusion between two of my very early favorites: Shredder (from Turtles) and Zorro, so yeah. I fell for Vaderkin the second he said “I am your father” because in that moment I knew that a, there was an exciting history there, and b, he'd turn back to the light side. I was a dangeorusly genre savvy 10-year old, I just want that said – and I've been a sucker for a redemption arc since... forever. I have a vivid memories of dreaming of Duchess Ravenwaves of Lady Lovelylocks becoming fast friends when I was a 7 or 8.

Excellent things about my dumbass Chosen One include his dedication to being a Dramatic Bitch, him being very intelligent about some things while being so fucking stupid about others, his general prowess (Kee has a competence kink, y'all... ), and the fact that he loves enough to both break the world and heal it. Truth be told, though, I've loved him for so long that I can't really say what it is I love about him, the same way you can't really say that about siblings or close friends: I just know that I do.

Jim Moriarty (Sherlock)

Jim's an amoral genius with a thing for Sherlock Holmes, and not only does he dress well but he is fun, which is only all too rare in villains. (Unless you go for the actually insane and sadistic ones, which I don't so much.) If you gonna be evil, you might as well delight in it! When pulling off a complicated  heist, Jim takes the time to design a completely bogus app with super cute icons, in spite of him being the only one who will ever see them. This is the kind of dedication I look for! Underneath the slick facade and wisecracks, there's the very occasional glimmer of utter ennui and loneliness, which makes his gleeful embrace of CRIME all the more compelling to watch.

Incidentally, Sherlock was the fandom that had me move from LiveJournal to Tumblr back in 2012. I'm extremely intrigued by Sherlock and Jim's relationship – foe yay dreams were made of this – and I have to say that my interest in the series dwindles since Jim's death (THERE WAS NO BODY! HE COULD HAVE FAKED IT! DON'T AT ME!), thought that might well be due to season 3 and (particularly) 4 not quite living up to the absolute glory that was the two first seasons.

Gabriel Gray/Sylar (Heroes)

Driven by a need to be 'special' (blame it on his mom), humble watchmaker Gabriel Gray adopts the name Sylar and starts murdering people to steal their various super powers, as you do. Sylar ticks several of my boxes: extreme competence, one-liners, into being super dramatic, proper enjoyment of being bad, strong eyebrow game, redemption arcs. Yes, arcs - there are several, as Sylar kind of goes back on forth on the whole being evil thing. Later seasons introduce a 'hunger' that's supposed to explain his descent into darkness, which I'm not a huge fan of (I'm more into people making horrible choices of their own free will; drugs, psychotic breaks and being possessed by dark powers bore me) but I suppose it'd be a little hard to sell his ultimate  redemption otherwise, because he kills so many people and often seem to have quite a bit of fun doing it. To be fair, he kind of goes to prison for eight years (even if it's all in his head... ) but yeah.

Since Sylar interacts with and antagonizes pretty much all of the heroic main cast, and does have shades of affable evil, he is very easy to ship with a lot of the good guys. Catnip for a foe yay fan like me.

Lucifer Morningstar (The Sandman, Lucifer)

Yes, this the comic book character the TV show is based on, but while the show has some charming qualities of its own, it's utterly rubbish as far as adaptations go. Comic book Lucifer is cold, brilliant, sardonic, never lies but manipulates like nobody's business. He plays the piano. He doesn't give a rat's ass about anybody's sins or immortal souls: he just wants to escape the tyranny of predestination. Which, you know, highly relatable. I'd want to do that to, if I believed in predestination. The people he feels anything but vaguely disdainful disinterest for are extremely few, and even those he does care about he'd probably be willing to sacrifice to achieve his own ends. He's not a charming character – but fuck, is he compelling!

The Lucifer introduced in Neil Gaiman's The Sandman is slightly softer than the version in Mike Carey's spin-off Lucifer, and I love them both. The Lucifer of the TV show... well, he does play the piano, I suppose.

Ian och Mickey (Shameless US)

Yes, this is cheating but you cannot make me choose! If I was forced to put only one, I'd put Mickey – though I miss Ian more when he's not around than I miss Mickey when he's missing from the show. In fairness to me, while they are both very interesting characters, they arguably become something else entirely and completely awesome when they're together. Mickey being such an utter thug while still retaining enough of a soft heart to be super soft for Ian, and Ian being genuinely kind and caring while at the same time being a little punk and generally ready to throw down.... Their differences, and their rather difficult circumstances, cause them quite a lot of problem over the years, but they complement each other in the best of ways: and they truly appreciate each other and have fun together. I love them, ok?

I’d like to tag @iwannabewhereyouaremickey @fiona-fififi @imberantiel​ and @sickness-health-all-that-shit - no pressure whatsoever, if this is not your thing though. :) Also, anyone else wanna do this, I’m always curious to know about people’s interests beyond Shameless, so have at it please.

[nockfellblues]

I don't know if you do these kinds of asks but how about reader pulling a hunger games type moment and confronting Larry before he kills himself saying if you go I do too I won't let someone I love die alone type thing.

All aboard the angst train ♥  written as a mini fic! TW for attempted suicide! Reader is gender neutral.

If you are in crisis, please call the National Suicide Prevention Hotline and get the help you deserve. Call 1-800-273-8255. If you are like me and are afraid to call, there are also live online chat options as well, located HERE! 

You’d known for awhile something was... off with Larry. Ever since Sal had officially moved in with Todd and Neil, Larry had been stadoff-ish on a good day, and on bad days would seclude himself in the tree house, Sanity’s Fall blasting from that tiny stereo so loud you could hear it from your shared basement apartment. To say you were worried about his behavior was an understatement. Especially after you’d begun to notice the pattern of near constant headaches, the fact that he was always saying it was too loud in the apartment, the occasional mutter of, “shut up,” to an empty room when he though you weren’t close enough to hear, and the quickly worsening whip of anger he’d been developing… You were walking on eggshells at any given moment.

Finally, it all hit a breaking point. 

You had been helping Larry pack up the remainder of his non-essentials, getting them ready to go over to his new room at Todd’s. It had been a process to pack a lot of his stuff up- it was a whole lifetime to sort through; countless weird knick knacks to decide to keep or not, finding old drawings and sketchbooks from his childhood, finding a random little thing that had been lost years ago tucked away in a dusty corner someplace… 

To be honest, it had been more reminiscing about his childhood and the memories about each of the items you both went through than it was actually packing. But it was fun, and the wistful smile he wore as he told you stories of his mother, his missing father and his years of shenanigans with Sal and Todd made every wasted second well worth it. 

When you unearthed a little silver puzzle box, you expected a fun story and for him to add it into the donation box for the local second hand shop for some needy kid to enjoy it later. But the simple question of, “Trash or stash?” quickly devolved into an argument about how much you didn’t care about his sentimentality or that it was an important object to him- and it just got worse from there- until you gave up, tossed up your hands, and stated you were gonna bring the box you’d finished earlier over to Todd’s while he cooled off, and walked out.

When you’d gotten there, the first thing you did was tell Sal what was up, hoping maybe he’d have some kind of wise words or what you could have done to set Larry off in the first place. Sally, ever the sweetheart, pulled you into a gentle hug, reassuring you that Larry was probably just having a rough patch and that he would talk to him and see if Larry might open up about it. 

Taking Todd up on an offer to stay the night, you threw on a movie and made yourself comfortable on the couch, falling into a dreamless sleep. 

Neil woke you the next morning with a killer cup of coffee and a poor mans breakfast of sugar coated pop tarts. Sally had come around not long after, letting you know Larry had texted him, and they’d be headed to the apartments for some, “Ghost hunting.” He seemed kind of tense but reassured you that he’d talk to Larry today, before he met up with Ash. Of course, you’d thanked him, and settled into Larry’s soon-to-be room to start sorting out some of the easier boxes.

—–

You woke up later, sprawled on the couch, to the sound of Todd rummaging in the kitchen. Yawning, you stretched and made your way out to greet him, smoothing out your bead-head. 

“Hey Todd, how as class?” You asked, grabbing a seat at the kitchen table. 

Todd shrugged, idly stirring an instant noodle cup, “No complaints. How’s Larry’s room coming along? Sal said you were unpacking this morning.”

“Well, I made it through the clothes and some oddball boxes… Did Sally mention anything about Larry by chance?”

Todd shook his head, “No, but he left with Ash almost as soon as he was back, so we didn’t have much time to chat. Knowing Sal, things should be smoothed over. He’s always been able to mellow Larry out like that.” 

With that, you decided to head back and see if Larry was feeling any better after some Sally time. It was getting dark, and the thick clouds looming overhead finally opened into a sweeping downpour just after you had left Todd’s. You stopped under a thicket of trees just off the road, hoping the rain would lessen, when your cell phone went off. 

Larry: [Name] im rly sry. i nvr meant that shit i said.

[Name]: Dude its all good i know youre stressed lately. Im heading back now.

Larry: stay at todds. and just dont blame urself ok? its my time to go.

[Name]: Larry wtf are you talking about? youre scaring me?

Without waiting for a reply you took off towards the apartments at a breakneck run. Bypassing the front door, you ran around the backside of the building to use the back entrance, when you noticed a light on in the old tree house- Then your gaze trailed down to the baggy with a neatly folded paper pinned to the lower steps on the tree.

You felt your blood run cold. He wouldn’t- no. 

“Larry!” You scrambled up the rickety planks, ignoring the note, and all but threw yourself onto the tree house floor. “Larry, don’t!” 

Tucked against the wall of the tree house, just under the little window, sat Larry, an old camping lantern lit in the corner beside him. His eyes were puffy and his hair disheveled, evidence that he’d been crying before. Tears welled in your own eyes as you took in his distraught expression and the bottle of whiskey in his hands. 

“[Name]..?” He whispered your name, and the way his voice cracked brought you to instant tears, and you all but launched yourself at him, pulling him into a desperate embrace. 

“Larry Johnson, you fucking asshole! Don’t you dare- don’t you dare take a sip from that bottle-”

“[Name]-” you cut him off, taking his face into your hands and forcing him to look at you. The circles under his eyes were so deep, and the absolute emptiness in them broke your heart.

“No! You listen here, you fucking string bean- you don’t get to do this. You can’t just… just push me away and expect me not to worry. You can’t just text… text me something like that and not expect me to come running to- to fucking keep you from being stupid! What the fuck am I supposed to do without you?!” You were openly sobbing now, practically screaming at the boy who all but held your entire world in his hands. “You’re all I have! You can’t just-just leave me behind and expect me to move on- who am I without my other half, Larry? Who am I?!” 

He scrunched his eyes closed, tears streaming down his cheeks again, as he shook his head.

“If you fucking kill yourself, I’m going with you. And you can’t stop me.” You knew it was a dirty trick to play, guilting him like this when his soul was this ravaged and he was so vulnerable- but you were being honest. What would you do without him in your life? What about Sal? God, what about poor Lisa? He was so dear to you all, so loved, and he was ready and willing just throw it all away-

“[Name], I-I can’t take it anymore- I just- the cult shit, that demon, the ghosts! The fucking whispers-  they’re dri-driving me insane! I‘m not like you or Sal- I can’t handle this shit anymore!” He finally breaks down into heaving sobs at that, burying his face into your shoulder, and dropping the bottle in favor of a bone-crushing embrace that you readily return.

You kick the bottle away from Larry, as far as you can get it, and quietly thank whoever will listen when the cap pops the rest of the way off, spilling the amber liquid and the mostly dissolved remnants of pills onto the tree house floor.

“…Why didn’t you just tell me? Or even Sal. Someone. You know we’d do anything for you, Larry, absolutely anything.” He didn’t reply, just shook his head and pulled you closer. What the fuck was was this place doing to him? You had to get him out- get him away- Larry’s phone vibrated from the other side of the tree house, but you elected to ignore it, praying whoever was calling was also smart enough to find you both before things got any worse.

He sniffled, hiccuping into you shoulder, “I’m so sorry, [name]. I didn’t mean anything that I said the other day- or anything I said in those other arguments. I just- This- this place is.. I think I’m going crazy-”

You shushed him, smoothing a hand down his hair and he devolved into body-wracking sobs that shook you both with the sheer force of them. Your soul ached for the boy you had known almost all your life- the boy you grew up with, shared secrets with, made countless memories with, and loved with all your heart. 

Why didn’t you see this coming sooner? “I know, Larry, I know. This place- there’s something still wrong with Addison apartments and we’re gonna get you out of here, forever. I promise.” 

“I-I’m so, so sorry, [name]. Please... Please don’t leave me.”

The rain continued to pour in violent sheets outside, but you distinctly heard the frantic voice of Sal, calling Larry’s name, as he ran towards the tree house. You had never felt such absolute relief in your life, even with Larry clinging to you like a lifeline, and the stain of his near-death slowly seeping into the floor of the tree house just behind you.

 “I’m not going anywhere, Larry. I’m with you, always, no matter what happens.”

—fin—

WHEW. I tried to make it so you could read their relationship as either romantic or platonic, and tried to stay as neutral as possible in gender as well! I hope this is alright, and I hope you like it! I’ve actually never seen the Hunger Games so I kinda went my own way ♥

I’d also like to use this space as a PSA:I’ve struggled with depression and suicidal thoughts and tendencies my whole life- don’t let your depression convince you that you are trapped or alone or unloveable. I know its hard, and there’s no easy fix for it, but there are things in life that make it worth sticking around. Even if its something as silly as looking forward to a new game or story or waiting for a flower you planted to bloom, there are reasons to keep living. Please be kind to yourself and remember, even if we’ve never spoken or interacted or existed in the same space, I know that you are worthy of being loved and cared for and you are not alone. 

If ever you feel like you are truly alone in this world, please reach out- there will always be people out here willing to lend a shoulder to cry on, a hand to hold, and a friend to those who feel lost ♥ I know i will always be open to anyone out there in need of a friend so, please, never be afraid to reach out!

[carol-effing-danvers]

i’ve got you written (in a black book)

Billy Hargrove’s heart is killing him.

(Title from “Something to Believe In” by Young the Giant)

The night after meeting Steve Harrington, Billy coughs up a handful of gardenia petals into the bathroom sink as he’s brushing his teeth in the morning. He pauses, staring at the thick white petals sitting in the curve of the sink. It’s never happened to him before, so he shoves one into his pocket and throws the others into the trash. Billy drops Max off at the middle school, then skips first period to spend time in the library.

 He doesn’t ask the librarian for help and he makes certain that no one is watching before snatching the volume he wants from the shelf – he has to page carefully through the glossy photos before finding the one he wants.

 GARDENIA Genus: Gardenia Meaning: secret love, “you’re lovely!”

 Billy’s shoulders loosen with relief. He has no doubts in his mind about which person he’s spitting flowers for, but this isn’t so bad. Some people, when they get Hanahaki disease, start vomiting red roses and shit like that. Shit that you know is an instant death sentence, the kind of love you can’t just get over.

 Gardenias? That’s not that bad. “you’re lovely!”

 Well, yeah. Steve Harrington is the hottest piece of ass in this worthless shithole town, anybody with eyes can see that. So, he’s got a crush.

 It doesn’t have to mean anything, not in the long term.

 Basketball practice is entering a level of hell heretofore unknown to mankind. Harrington, all strong lanky limbs and big soft eyes, following each other around the court, Billy grinding his teeth at the almost total lack of effort he puts into it. Oh, and worse! The showers!

 Harrington brings his own shampoo, and it fills the space with the smell of him. Billy has the perfect view of his broad shoulders and flat soft abdominals and the artful grace of his fingers scrubbing through his wet hair.

 He stares, though Harrington doesn’t even seem to give a shit. Harrington, he’s noticed, doesn’t seem to give a shit about a whole hell of a lot, especially after Wheeler dumped him. Billy would be worried, if he were the type of person to worry about other people. He stares, he leers, he taunts – trying to get some kind of reaction, even if it’s a punch in the face – then when no one is left in the locker room, he coughs up bright red daisy blossoms (beauty unknown to the possessor) and the silky petals of orange lilies (desire, passion, hatred).

 He laughs hysterically at that. Hanahaki is supposed to be about the pure devotion of an unrequited love, but Billy can’t even do that right. He vomits up sentiments of carnal desire and hate for his so-called ‘beloved’. It’s further proof, in his mind, that this whole thing is nothing but a fucking long-term boner. It’s an intense boner, don’t get him wrong. (He dreams in kiss-bitten lips, long black lashes, and the profoundly perfect curves of Harrington’s thighs and calves. Yeah. Yeah, it’s…intense.)

 Billy’s pretty sure he’d have nothing more to say about Harrington after pulling that ass over his dick once or twice. He would even be nice about it – suck off that big gorgeous dick for him, deep and messy, the way he’s absolutely certain the girls in this town are either too stuck-up or too intimidated to do for him. Then Billy would show him the joy of the sweet spot waiting to be played with in his tight little hole. But if he busted a nut in that (lovely, breathtaking) ass, he’s sure the shine of ‘true love’ would wear off afterwards.

 He’s absolutely convinced of this until the night that Maxine sneaks out the house.

 The moment Harrington steps out of the house and onto the porch, Billy stares at him and feels a tickle in the back of his throat, and when he coughs, a carnation the deep scarlet of fresh blood falls into his hand. He doesn’t even need to look into the book he stole from the school library to know that this new development is bad.

 It makes him angry and he loses his temper. The sight of Harrington’s face drives him half-mad, sometimes.

 He wakes up on the Byers’ house, hours later, and has to stand, bent over the weird papers on the living room. He coughs up another scarlet carnation and throws it in the grass as he stumbles back out the drive. When he checks the book, he nearly chucks the fucking thing into the woods.

 CARNATION (see also: PINK, SWEET WILLIAM) Genus: Dianthus Meaning: fascination -> Carnation (red): admiration, “my heart aches for you!”

 Max is gonna get herself – meaning Billy – in trouble with her antics, following Sinclair and the nerds around, but he obeys her command to stay away from them. All of them.

 He watches Harrington watching Wheeler at the Snow Ball, and it’s torture. He doesn’t even understand why it hurts so bad and then he’s smoking a cigarette, leaning up against the Camaro, and when he coughs into his fist, thin papery petals swirl into the cold night air. He stares at the ground, gaze captured by the oddly poetic image of the delicate-looking deep pink flowers, trodden into the dirty snow.

 His hands shake, and he can’t bring himself compare the petals to the pictures in his stolen book. He makes himself do it the next morning, when one of them floats in his morning coffee. Quickly, he plucks it out of his cup and rinses it off carefully beneath the bathroom faucet, before Neil can see. He makes himself put it in his pocket instead of flushing it down the toilet.

 He has to wait until Max is gone before he can pull the book from its hiding place beneath the driver’s seat.

 CAMELLIA Genus: Camellia Meaning: admiration, perfection -> Camellia, pink: “longing for you!”

 Billy rests his forehead on the pictures of the high-gloss pages and wonders what the fuck he’s gonna do.

 He becomes…achingly familiar with the camellia, and eventually adds white (“you’re adorable!”) and red (“you’re a flame in my heart!”) to the flood of petals that emerge.

 He says something snotty to Tommy in bio that earns him a smile, half-hidden, his soft brown eyes glittering and a light blush dusting the tops of his cheeks. Three long yellow petals emerge when he coughs into his hand and he shoves them into a random pants pocket before anyone can see.

 He knows what they are – he doesn’t have to explore. Sunflowers were his mother’s favorite flower. He knows what they look like, even if they’re shattered into pieces small enough to fit into his lungs.

 SUNFLOWER Genus: Helianthus Meaning: adoration, devotion

 Billy takes deep breaths and refuses to cry in public, even if he is tucked away within the safety of the Camaro.

 It gets worse. So, so much worse. He’d assumed that he just needed to either ignore his feelings or use Harrington to slack his lust, and then the whole thing would go away. But he can’t seduce him into anything – whenever Billy flirts with him, no matter how borderline dangerous it is, Steve just gives him this head-tilted stare, as though Billy is speaking a foreign tongue.

 He tries to fuck a girl on New Year’s Eve and ends up handing her punch until she passes out, because Billy knows as soon as she kisses him that if they go somewhere private, he won’t be able get it up unless Steve Harrington comes walking through the door bare-ass naked and sits in his lap. Instead of fucking Mary Ann Davison, Billy locks himself into the bathroom off Tina’s basement family room and vomit blue violets until his stomach cramps. (Faithfulness, “I’ll always be true!”)

 For Valentine’s day, Steve hands out Reese’s in homeroom and though Billy normally has a coughing fit after a class with Harrington, he has to get a hall pass to run to the bathroom immediately. The whole cup-shaped head of a tulip, the blazing red of a setting sun, falls into his hands and he frantically throws it away (passion, undying love).

 Winter becomes spring and Billy coughs more often, has to excuse himself once or twice a day from class. More covert research into the condition informs Billy that most people have a specific flower that their love inspires, often daffodils for unrequited love.

 Not him, not Billy. Billy has whole bouquets ready for his love. It’s worse at night, and Billy has to get out of the house. It’s too obvious to spend an hour coughing in the bathroom and the sheer volume of blooms in his lungs make it impossible to throw into the garbage without someone in the family noticing.

 There are no shortage of fields in Hawkins, Indiana. Billy resorts to picking one of the nice warm spring evenings. He coughs, he gags, he lets his entire fucking heart pour out into the grass and dirt, scattered in a riot of colors.

 Camellias are still a popular choice, but he produces a lot of red carnations, too. His heart does ache. It aches for him.

 Steve has made his heart as soft and sweet as summer fruit. But nothing Billy touches is truly soft or sweet. It’s all gone rotten in him, decayed and disgusting.

 A waste, he thinks, tears pouring down his face as he is surrounded by a carpet of little yellow primrose. (Eternal love, “I can’t live without you!”). Some of them are spotted with blood, sometimes. And just like him, it all belongs in the trash.

 There’s no way for Billy to know that less than a mile down the road, another boy hides in his bed, Christmas lights twinkling overhead.

 His heart is broken, because Steve thinks he’s made of fool’s gold. Something that everyone will clamber to grab for but only until they realize he’s not gold at all, but iron pyrite. A deception of value.

 All his love is wasted, because it never means anything to the people he gives it to, no matter how much he has to give.

 He’s shiny and worthless and easily discarded.

[crue-sixx]

I’ll Keep You My Dirty Little Secret (Nikki Sixx Imagine)

This was requested.

Warning: Slight smut. 18+ readers.

As you were sat on the couch at the party Mötley Crüe was throwing, you kept your eyes on none other than Nikki Sixx. You and Nikki had been dating for some months now, but kept it on the down-low. You two would sneak around together like a couple of teenagers trying to hide their relationship from their parents.

The reason for being so secretive about your relationship was because of Vince Neil. Vince was in the band and he was also good friends with the both of you. Also, he had a thing for you. You knew because he had told you one night after one of their shows. You’d never felt that way for the blonde singer. Nikki was the one you’d always had feelings for so you let Vince down as easily as you could. Not long after that, you and Nikki started something that you both just couldn’t seem to stop. Not like either of you really wanted to stop it though.

Nikki was being his usual self. Crazy and unpredictable. He had just lit his arm on fire to show off his dangerous skills. It always made you nervous as hell when he did stupid stuff like that because you worried he would end up hurting himself. He knew how it worried you, but he just couldn’t help himself.

“Hey, what are you doing all by your lonesome over here?” Vince asked as he took a seat beside you, throwing his arm on the back of the couch.

“Just observing the craziness I guess,” you told him as you drank the last of the beer you had. You weren’t drunk or even tipsy, but you were still feeling pretty good from the alcohol.

“Why not join in?” Vince asked with a grin.

“Just prefer to watch instead of partake,” you answered him with a smile. “Can’t say I would light myself on fire like Nikki over there.”

“He’s one crazy bastard,” Vince commented and shook his head.

‘He’s my crazy bastard,’ you thought to yourself.

“Vince, come dance with me!” A random girl squealed as she grabbed Vince’s hand and tried to pull him up off of the couch.

“I’m not really feeling it right now,” Vince said and tried to wave her off.

“I won’t take no for an answer, rockstar,” the girl said.

“Go on and dance with her, Vince,” you encouraged him and nudged your shoulder with his. “I’m about to go grab myself another drink anyways.”

It took Vince another moment of hesitation, but he finally got up and went to dance with the persistent girl. You stood up and went to where the drinks were, grabbing yourself another beer. You looked Nikki’s way. He was finally fire free and drinking as he talked with Mick. He finally looked your way and sent you a smirk. You smirked back at him and nodded towards the bathroom before you walked that way yourself. You figured the bathroom would be less suspicious than you walking into one of the bedrooms. You’d been in the bedrooms plenty of times before, but not with the other guys around.

You hopped up onto the counter in the bathroom as you waited for Nikki. It was only a couple of minutes before there was a knock on the door. Nikki slid the door open and found you sat up on the counter, which made him smirk.

“You asked for me?” He said as he stepped into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

“I sure did,” you replied as you parted your legs in a teasing manner, leaving little to the imagination. “Been waiting for you to stop lighting yourself on fire so you could light me up instead, babe.”

Nikki glanced down at you. His breath hitched when he noticed that you weren’t wearing any underwear under your tight red dress.

“No panties?” Nikki asked as he nestled himself between your legs and tsked. “That is naughty, baby girl.”

“I never claimed to be good, Nikki,” you replied smoothly to him as you smirked.

Nikki hummed and placed his hands on your hips, pulling you closer to him. You could feel how hard he already was in his tight leather pants. He rubbed himself against your core, which had you mewling from the contact. You were already hot and ready, getting wetter and wetter with each passing second.

“Don’t tease me, babe,” you told him and groaned softly. “We don’t have time for that.”

“Needy...I fucking love it,” Nikki commented before he reached down and began pulling himself out of his restricting pants, sighing in relief when his hard manhood was finally free from its confinements.

You leaned forward and pressed your lips to Nikki’s. It was a heated kiss filled with passion and promises of what was about to come. Tongues moved against each other as he pulled the straps down on your dress then moved his hands down to hitch the bottom of your dress up more. It was just about to go down.

That is until you were both interrupted by the door slamming open. You paused in your actions and looked that way to find Vince stood there with a girl hanging off his arm. Your eyes widened as Nikki quickly tucked himself back into his pants then moved to hide you from view as you fixed your dress back properly.

Vince was stood there just staring at you both, looking from you to Nikki to you again. His face was one of shock and...betrayal?

“What the actual fuck, dude?!” Vince yelled at Nikki before storming off, leaving the girl to look on confused before shrugging and walking off.

“Son of a bitch,” Nikki mumbled before he turned to you and sighed.

“I cannot believe you didn’t lock the door, Nikki,” you said and hopped down from the counter. You checked yourself in the mirror to make sure you were presentable again.

“I was kind of preoccupied if you didn’t notice,” Nikki defended himself. “Shit, babe, he’s pissed. I better go look for him.”

“Should I come with you?” You asked.

“No, probably better if I do this myself,” he said and you nodded. He kissed your forehead before leaving the bathroom.

You stood there for a moment so you could try to process what had just happened. You felt absolutely horrible. You knew Vince would have to find out sometime, but you’d rather it not been like that. You and Nikki were going to talk to him about eventually, but that was out of the question now. Maybe you should’ve told him already. It would’ve been better than what just happened.

You finally made yourself leave the bathroom and decided to head outside for some air. You were pleased to find you were the only one out there when you climbed out of the window as gracefully as you could.

You sighed to yourself as you ran a hand through your hair. Vince was probably going to hate you now and you never wanted that nor to be the blame for any sort of friction in the band. That was never your intention. You and Nikki just really liked each other. You couldn’t help that.

You were deep in your thoughts when someone came out and stood beside you without you even being aware.

“So Nikki, huh?”

You jumped slightly and found Vince stood there beside you as he looked out at the scenery before him, which wasn’t much.

“Vince, I’m so sorry,” you told him. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know, Y/N,” he sighed out as he leaned forward on the railing. He finally looked at you. “I know the kind of person you are and you aren’t the type to hurt someone intentionally. It just hurt seeing you with him, you know?”

You nodded before you looked down at the ground. You could understand where he was coming from. It must’ve been a shock to walk in on that.

“Nikki talked to me,” Vince spoke again. “I mean after I punched him. Made me feel a bit better.” He chuckled at that and you sighed. “He apologized and told me how much he cares about you. He doesn’t see you as just another girl. I think he’s even in love with you. I haven’t seen him like this with any other girl before.”

You turned to Vince quickly with a look of shock. You knew Nikki cared about you, but you hadn’t made it to the ‘I love you’ stage yet. You knew without a doubt that you loved him though.

“Vince-” you started to say, but he interrupted you.

“Y/N, it’s okay,” he said with sincerity. “If you and Nikki are happy together then why should I be mad about that? Yeah, it hurts right now, but I’ll get over it. As long as you’re happy and he treats you right then I’m cool.”

You couldn’t believe how well Vince was taking this. You smiled softly at him and leaned over to kiss his cheek.

“Vince, you’re an amazing guy and you’ll find the right girl for you one day,” you told him.

He smiled at you. “Thanks. You better go check on your boyfriend. He’s probably sporting one hell of a shiner now.”

“Right,” you replied and walked back to the window and climbed through it.

You looked around and finally found Nikki in his room alone, sitting on his bed. His eye was beginning to swell and bruise.

“You okay?” You asked him as you stood in front of him, grabbing him by the chin gently so that you could inspect his eye.

“I’ll survive,” he said.

“I talked to Vince,” you told Nikki. “He seems like he’s taking it pretty well.”

“As well as he can I guess,” Nikki said.

You rubbed Nikki’s head as he rested it on your stomach. It was quiet for a while as you both just processed what all had happened.

“Y/N, I love you,” Nikki mumbled out.

“What?” You asked with widened eyes.

Nikki moved his head back and looked up at you as you were still stood in front of him. “I love you, Y/N.”

You smiled at Nikki and leaned down, placing your lips on his in a soft kiss. He kissed you back as he cupped your cheek with one of his hands.

“I love you too, Nikki,” you told him after you pulled away from the kiss and rested your forehead against his.

Nikki was grinning as he pulled you down to sit in his lap. “Good. That means this shiner wasn’t for nothing then.”

You laughed lightly at that and shook your head as Nikki chuckled. You spent the rest of the night cuddling in bed with Nikki. You were happy that things seemed to be alright.

[minyardcva]

For andreil: high school au??

hii!! i know this is literally months late, and i’m terribly sorry. i got caught up in so many things, and only recently found the time to do it. i threw in a bit of a sickfic in it, and i hope you won’t mind! you can also find it on my ao3!

Andrew knew the new kid was trouble, with his stupid laugh, and the totally not hot British accent and deep blue eyes and hair that looked like it could catch fire and probably engulf Andrew in it, too. He had told Renee the kid was more trouble than he was worth, yet he was as helpless as a poor sailor at the first note of a siren’s song. And that’s why, when his brother had brought the new kid home to study for their upcoming chemistry test, Andrew had casually strolled into Aaron’s room while he was in the bathroom, and glanced around the room, looking everywhere except at the kid. The kid - he should really start calling him by his name, Neil Josten, but just imagining how his name rolled off his tongue did weird things to him that he wasn’t ready to admit - had noticed Andrew’s search was coming up short and cleared his throat to catch Andrew’s attention.

“Uh, Andrew, right? Are you looking for something?”

He’d seen the kid around the school, shared some classes with him, but never talked to him. He was often on the side and trying to avoid the spotlight, but the pretty face wasn’t enough to garner Andrew’s full attention. What did, though, was the kid roasting the absolute fuck out of the class’s resident asshole. In that damned accent.

Hearing his name coming from the ki- Josten’s mouth, well, he was ready to admit he was absolutely fucked. He regarded Josten with a bored glance and continued looking around.

“Great deduction skills. I need Aaron’s charger.”

Of course, he knew where the charger was, but Josten didn’t have to know that. He saw Josten frown, but before he could make a retort, Aaron came into the room.

“My charger’s done for. Where’s yours?”

Aaron lifted a brow at him because he knew that Andrew knew where the charger was, but Andrew gave him a pointed look to shut him up. Aaron gave a quick glance in Josten’s direction to show Andrew that he was onto him, and gave him the charger.

The next day, Andrew sat at Josten’s table. He learned that Josten had moved with his mother, Mary, because of his parents’ nasty divorce, that Mary had wanted to be as far away as possible from her abusive ex-husband, and even changed her last name so he wouldn’t be able to find her. He also learned that Mary was quite obsessive and paranoid over her son, that she was downright hostile to every friend that Josten’s ever made, and that she let him out of the house only under the condition that he carry his phone on him all the time, and that he came home straight away after the classes.

So Andrew and Josten came up with a solution. A couple of nights a week after school Andrew would go under Josten’s window and wait for Josten to let him in. Soon enough Josten became Neil, a good company who sometimes didn’t know when to shut up for his own good, but who respected Andrew’s boundaries and never pushed for more than Andrew would give him. And Andrew was hooked.

It was on one of these nights when the weather broadcast proved to be shit yet again. It was a warm night, no need for jackets, or so the broadcaster said. It was also, unfortunately, when Andrew felt the crisp breeze rise and the first droplets of rain start to fall. Andrew would really have to file a report against the broadcaster one of these days.

Andrew didn’t show up at school the next day. He wasn’t in Neil’s Spanish class, but since it was their first class Neil brushed it off as Andrew sleeping in. But when he couldn’t find him at lunch or anywhere else, Neil started to worry. He knew that Andrew had bad days after nightmares about the time before his cousin took him in, but he still backtracked to the night before, thinking that maybe something they had talked about got under Andrew’s skin. He came up with nothing and it wasn’t like Andrew would hesitate to tell him when to stop. He decided to give Andrew space and wait until Andrew came to him. But Andrew didn’t show up the next day either.

On the third day, he finally gave in and decided to ask Aaron what was going on. While their teacher was droning on about neutralisation, Neil leaned closer to Aaron’s desk and whispered his name. Aaron turned to look at Neil and raised his chin in a sign that he was listening.

“Where’s Andrew?”

Aaron raised a brow at him. “Took you long enough. He’s in hospital.”

Neil felt his stomach bottom out, and he quickly tried to push the panic rising in his throat down. Did he get in a fight again? Or were the nightmares too much? He remembered the knife Andrew always kept on himself and the armbands covering the scars on his skin. Neil swallowed and kept his voice as steady as possible.

“What happened?”

“The rain caught him and he got pneumonia. Told Nicky it was nothing that hot chocolate couldn’t solve and Nicky almost had to drag him to the hospital.”

The teacher sent them a pointed look and Aaron turned towards the board. As soon as the bell rang, Neil took Aaron by his elbow and dragged him through the crowd of people who apparently had nothing better to do than walk slower than snails in the school corridors.

“I’m telling my mom we’re going to study at your house and I need you to confirm it.”

Aaron huffed. “He won’t be grateful to you.”

“Like I care.” Neil put a finger to his lips as he waited for Mary to pick up.

“Mom? No, everything’s okay. I just called you to say that I’m going to Aaron’s after school to study. No, don’t wait for me, I don’t know when we’ll finish, these things are a bit tricky. Sure.”

He passed the phone to Aaron who put on his most polite voice.

“Hello, Ms Josten. Yes, it’s tomorrow. No, we didn’t know, the teacher just told us.” He paused for a moment. “No, the soulless one won’t be there. Okay. Goodbye.”

Aaron hung up and passed the phone back to Neil. “Soulless. She’s mellowed.”

Andrew was lying in his hospital bed with a sweater on and the blankets up to his chin so he wouldn’t have to look at the awful hospital gown. He’d put on some random cartoon just to pass the time and was eating a doughnut that Nicky had made him when Neil came in.

Well, this day just keeps getting better and better.

Well, at least he could pretend that his silence was deliberate, and not because his crush just suddenly appeared in his hospital room. So he stared.

Thankfully, Neil cleared his throat and motioned to the TV. “That interesting?”

“You don’t seem hurt. Why are you at the hospital? Wait, don’t tell me, they’re finally signing your mother in a psychiatric ward.”

“Don’t want to ruin your mood, but not yet.” Neil laughed, and Andrew could already hear it, the alluring melody of that stupid siren song which tugged at his treacherous heartstrings.

“Shame.”

Neil rolled his eyes and sat on the chair near Andrew’s bed, leaning forward with his arms on his knees, giving Andrew a nice close up of his blue eyes. Andrew would blame it on the fever, but he could swear he heard waves crashing in his ears.

“Why do you think I’m here?”

“To give your mother a heart attack.”

“Very funny. I could do it just as easily in the house. I came here to apologize.”

Andrew lifted a brow at him in mock surprise. “That’s new. I wasn’t aware that you owed me anything, let alone an apology.”

“Are you really going to pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about?” Neil frowned and looked around the hospital room in emphasis.

“Oh, this? Last I checked, you didn’t infect me with pneumonia.”

“Yeah, but you caught it because of me.”

“You flatter yourself, Josten. I’m self-destructive, not stupid.”

“So you caught pneumonia just so you could skip school and watch cartoons?”

“And eat Nicky’s doughnuts. They’re worth skipping, you should try them.”

Neil just stared at him like he was impossible, and what else could Andrew do but prove him right. They stared at each other for a few moments before Neil finally relented and leaned back against the chair. He took his backpack and shook it in his hands.

“Well, if you’re not going to let me apologize, I guess I’ll have to take all these sweets I brought as an apology.”

Of course he knew how to get Andrew wrapped around his little finger. Did the bastard even try at this point? Or was Andrew way too into him for that to even matter? Well, he could think about that after he ate all the sweets.

“You know, I was leaving your house because your mother was keeping you as a prisoner when the storm caught me so I’m willing to accept this as her apology.”

“So you want them?”

“I told you. I don’t want anything.”

Neil was starting to retract the bag when Andrew shot his hand forward and took the candy bag from Neil’s backpack.

“But I will take them because I’m hungry and this hospital food is shitty.”

Neil huffed a laugh. “Whatever you say.”

Before Andrew could utter a retort, Neil pulled out a notebook and started leafing through it.

“What are you doing?”

“Well, since you must be oh, so lonely, I thought I’d stay a bit and keep you company.”

“You told your mother you were at my house and it would be suspicious if you came this early, didn’t you?”

“Hmm, maybe.” Neil gave him a quizzical smile without looking up from his notebook.

The next half an hour or so they spent in comfortable silence. Neil did his homework while Andrew systematically went through the candies, not even bothering to offer Neil some since he knew the latter didn’t like sweets. Andrew tried to concentrate on the TV, on the bright colours and loud noises, but no matter how hard he tried, he found that Neil’s presence, so close yet so far away, would always be louder and he couldn’t help but throw glimpses at Neil; Neil furrowing his brow when he heard Andrew cough roughly; Neil’s lips stretching in a lazy smile after figuring out a tough problem; Neil sleepily rubbing his eyes or biting his lip in concentration. The wind was rising, the waves were crashing and crashing, and he was a reckless sailor looking down into the ocean’s wild waters, deep blue like-

“Uh, Andrew, you okay there?”

Andrew couldn’t entirely suppress the full body shudder and he turned to look at the IV in his arm so he wouldn’t have to look at Neil’s face. And to block Neil’s view of his heated red one.

“Apparently not.”

“I’m serious, you’re red all over. We should call a nurse in case your fever’s back up.”

“Don’t be stupid. It’s just too hot in the room, junkie.”

And, wanting to prove that he’s right, he sat up and kicked the blankets down at his feet. Neil didn’t seem fazed, though. He didn’t try to throw the blankets over Andrew, but he was halfway out of his chair.

“Might be, but you should still have it checked. I’ll be right back.”

Andrew wanted to argue more, but he knew there was no point when Neil, the junkie, set his mind to something. Like exy, or those stupid math problems, or arguing about irrelevant things just to prove a point. When Neil got out the door, he plopped back on the bed and repeated every curse word he knew in English, German, and some French ones he managed to pick up from Neil. Neil. Ok, scratch French. Fuck French. Specifically Neil speaking French.

He crossed his arms, fully prepared to refuse to cooperate because he was supposed to be better than this, and blushing so badly that your crush needed to call the nurse is, frankly, embarrassing. But then Neil came back with the nurse and had that anxious furrow between his brows and just as Andrew thought he’d managed to overcome the high waves, they rose again even higher and threatened to pull him under.

The nurse asked him the regular questions and checked his pulse and blood pressure, and when Andrew refused to let her touch his forehead to check if he had a fever she sighed as if she was used to difficult patients, and pulled out a thermometer.

Great. Could this day get any worse? He stopped his thoughts at that, not wanting to bring any more misery on himself.

The thermometer beeped and Andrew passed it to the nurse. He watched as confusion passed across her face as she compared Andrew’s still red face with completely normal results, but she managed to catch herself in time when she saw Andrew glaring daggers at her. She threw a quick glance at Neil, then back at Andrew, and back at Neil, and Andrew could almost hear a click as it dawned on her. Andrew felt his shoulders stiffen but, luckily, the nurse (Abby, Andrew remembered, and told himself not to antagonize her too much until they let him out as thanks) just smiled knowingly and said that he was probably overheated from the blankets and that she’d be back to check on him later.

A pathetic wheeze of relief which he would blame on his trouble with breathing escaped his throat, and he slowly relaxed his stiff shoulders as she left them alone.

He wasn’t going to shoot his shot looking miserable in a hospital room, but he also never believed he’d meet someone who could make him blush so hard he needed a nurse to check up on him. The waves were deafening, spraying his face with stray droplets, the wind was howling, but in the middle of that cacophony Andrew heard it - the melody, soft and inviting, overpowering the storm. Andrew closed his eyes and jumped. Water was everywhere around him, engulfing him, and he was only going deeper. But when he opened his eyes, instead of the darkness, he saw red.

Andrew sighed and played with the tape pinning the IV. “I hate you.”

Neil answered, unbothered, like Andrew knew he would. “What else is new?”

“That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t blow you.”

Silence. Then, unsure, “You like me?”

Andrew left the tape and let his glare be his answer. He could see the surprise and doubt in Neil’s face, but then he took a better look at Andrew’s blush. His eyes widened and his voice was a little breathless when he said, “You like like me.”

“Yes, Josten, I think we’ve already established that.”

“But you never said anything.”

“I told you. I’m self-destructive, not stupid.”

Neil let out a laugh and smiled at Andrew.  “You know, you look like a tomato right now?”

But he said it like tuh- mah -toh, not to tuh- may -toh, and Andrew felt like death is finally coming to get its ugly claws on him, so he tried to bury as much of himself in the blankets as possible.

“Fight me.”

“I could literally flick you with my finger and knock you out.”

“I’ll tell the nurse you’re harassing me.”

He meant it as a joke but was still surprised when Neil laughed and got up to go.

“Well, my mom will be harassing me if I don’t get back home soon, so… But hey, when you get out maybe we can…” he gestured vaguely with his hands.

“If you say fight with our faces, I’ll personally put you in intensive care.”

“Such a party breaker. We don’t have to fight with our faces.” He paused. “Always.”

Andrew rolled his eyes but said, “Yes. Now go and leave me alone.”

He watched Neil as he was going but then Neil looked at him one more time. Andrew quickly turned away and pretended to watch the cartoons.

“And Andrew?”

It wasn’t a question so he just said, “Josten.”

“Red looks nice on you.”

[hunnywrites]

Arcade Dreams: Chapter Eight

Summary: There’s a new girl working at the Palace Arcade and Hawkins’ Family Video. Billy can’t stand her, and the feeling is mutual. No matter what everyone else seems to think.

Pairing: Billy Hargrove/OFC

A/N: Sorry I didn’t get this up sooner! We’ve been getting ready for the hurricane!

“Alright, Teddi. You gotta tell me your address so I can take you home.” 

Teddi scoffed. “Why? So you can stalk me some more?” she snapped, crossing her arms firmly and dramatically across her chest.

Billy’s hand slightly clenched around the steering wheel. If Teddi was stubborn on a normal day, she was at least five times more stubborn when she was drunk. “Larsson, I’m not fucking around here…” he warned. 

Teddi sighed loudly and sunk in her seat. She leaned over and rested her head against the window, watching the trees pass by in a blur. “I don’t wanna go home.” 

Billy looked over at her. He grabbed the shoulder of her coat and pulled her upright before looking out the window made her blow chunks all over his car. “And why not?” he asked. He knew, or at least he had an idea, but he was still a little curious about whether his suspicions were correct. 

“If my dad knows I was out this late and sees how shit faced I am he’ll kill me. Like literally kill me. Fucking prick. You know I used to do this all the time back home? Yeah. I went to parties like...all the time. And I used to smoke because I thought it made me look cool, and I was actually popular until I moved to...this.” she waved her hands at the bland scenery that was passing them. 

Billy admittedly had sort of a hard time imagining that. Maybe New York was different. Teddi was more like that girl Samantha in his Biology class, Johnathan Byers and that chick Robin (who he was also pretty sure was a lesbian because he had tried putting the moves on her during lunch once and she had laughed so hard milk came out of her nose); weird and very not cool. But he smirked over at her anyways. “Is that right? What happened?”

“I moved to Hawkins and I died inside,” they both laughed. Teddi studied him for a moment. “Is all this part of you trying to be nice? Like with the beer?”

Billy shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know...I guess.”

“Well, how come you wanna be nice all of the sudden?”

“I don’t know,” he huffed. He supposed he could give her the long version. Complete with Max almost chopping his dick off. But he figured Teddi was a little too drunk to take any of that in. “I guess...ever since we moved here I’ve sorta been…”

“The worst?” Teddi finished for him with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah. I’ve got a lot of shit going on and-”

“I’ve got a lot of shit too. But I learned to stop being such a jerk to everyone.”

“Yeah? Well, you’re sure as hell a pain in the ass.” he argued. He didn’t know why Teddi drove him up the wall the way that she did. Maybe it was because he knew she was right. He hated it when other people were right about him. 

Teddi crossed her arms and glared over at him. “...What’s your zodiac sign?” she asked suddenly.

Billy shot her that look again. That one that like she had sprouted another head. “My what?” 

“Your zodiac sign! You know, with the stars and all…” Billy only blinked. Teddi huffed. “When is your birthday?” 

“...November 28th.” 

Teddi groaned. “A Sagittarius.” she said curtly. 

Billy didn’t know why, but he felt offended by her tone. He looked over at her with an annoyed and expectant look.  “And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

“Nothing. It just explains a lot. Do you know what time you were born? Or in what city?” she hadn’t even noticed that Billy was looking at her like she had gone absolutely insane. 

“How the fuck am I supposed to know any of that? And what does it explain, weird girl? What the hell is a Sagittarius?” Teddi didn’t answer him. She just sat there with her arms crossed and looking like she was going through some weird girl rolodex in her head. 

Suddenly she perked up. “Ooo! That means we’re sister signs! I’m a Gemini!” as if Billy was supposed to have any idea what that meant.

“Gemini? Sister signs? Larsson, what the hell are you talking about?” he asked incredulously. 

Teddi rolled her eyes. “It means that we’re like super compatible...huh. Wouldn’t have guessed that.”

“Compatible like...in bed compatible?” he asked, a smirk teasing at his lips. Teddi only scoffed at the question.

“Like compatible in general. Yin and Yang...I guess that makes sense. I’m like super chill and you’re basically the hulk,” she laughed. Billy was going to throw a smart ass response her way, but before he could Teddi reached over and snatched the cigarette that was between his lips. He let out a huff to show his distaste, but Teddi ignored it. She let out a loud groan as she took a drag of the cigarette. “Christ, I missed these things.”

Billy found himself chuckling. If someone had told him a week ago that he would be giving Teddi Larsson a ride home while she rambled on about zodiac signs and sharing a cigarette with him, he would have told them they were crazy. Yet there he was, taking his cigarette back from her after she handed it back to him with a happy, content look on her face. 

“What’s funny?” she asked, smiling over at him. 

Billy shook his head. “Nothing. This night has just taken a really weird turn.” that little part of him wished that this could be how things always were. Sure, he probably hadn’t had a friend that was a girl since the third grade, but he could see himself being friends with Teddi. If they could both get past that animosity that was always there. Well, more like if he could learn to control his temper a little more was more like it. 

He turned onto his street, slowing the Camaro down so that the engine wouldn’t wake anyone at home and let his dad know that he’d been out so late. He had missed his curfew by about two hours, but with Susan around now she and Neil held Billy to an honor system when it came to him going out. Teddi didn’t look as confused as he expected her to be as he pulled up to the curb. 

“You uh...said you didn’t want to go home so…” he didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t want Teddi to know that he had figured out her secret. He would play it off as her refusing to tell him her address. If he let on that he was onto Teddi, there was a chance she would start to ask questions and soon she would be onto his secret. 

Teddi looked over at Billy’s house with narrowed eyes before looking back at him. “This is your house?” she asked.

“Yeah...look, I’m not like putting the moves on you or anything. Trust me. You can crash in Max’s room. I just figured…” he wouldn’t meet her eyes. 

Teddi gave him a tired smile. “No, it’s...this is nice.” she nodded. 

Billy flinched a little. He hated that his first reaction to someone telling him he’d done something nice was wanting to make some sort of biting remark. He swallowed the nasty comment and only shrugged. He shut the Camaro off and climbed out, rushing over to the other side as Teddi nearly fell out onto the street. She was giggling loudly as she tried to get herself upright. 

“Christ, Larsson,” he muttered as he helped her stand. “You have to shut up, okay? If anyone hears you we’ll both be dead.” he snapped.

Teddi pretended to zip her lips before letting out a small giggle. Billy rolled his eyes and pulled her along. But he didn’t go to the front door. He led her around to the side of his house to what Teddi assumed must have been his bedroom window. She leaned up against the wall to try to keep her balance while he expertly slid the window open. Wordlessly he bent down, his fingers intertwined to give her a boost up. 

She wondered briefly just how many other girls he’d done this with before stepping into his hands and sliding clumsily into his room. It was a weird angle. If she wasn’t careful she’d land down on his stereo instead of the foot of his bed. Teddi wiggled through the window and aimed herself for Billy’s bed as best as her drunk mind would allow. 

She landed with a soft thud and groaned. Billy was in almost immediately after her. It was obvious that he had done this more than a few times. Teddi waved him away when he tried to help her stand. 

Billy’s room was...exactly what she had imagined. Not that she had spent a lot of time thinking about it. It was more or less as messy as she’d expect it to be. And it had that sort of “I don’t give a shit” attitude in the way he had decorated it that was very Billy. It smelled almost overwhelmingly like him. Cigarettes, his cologne and spearmint. His cologne had this really warm, woody smell to it. Sort of like a bonfire with a hint of something fresh and earthy. It gave Teddi this comfy sort of feeling whenever she smelled it and she briefly wondered if Billy had chosen the scent because it reminded him of back home. Teddi shook the idea away and looked further around his room. She rolled her eyes when she spotted the poster of Shauna Grant hanging on the wall. There were a lot of cassette tapes. Nearly anywhere Teddi looked there was a stack of tapes or vinyls along with a crushed beer can or two and an ashtray full of cigarette butts.

Of course there where all of his weights and workout gear, that definitely didn’t surprise her. What did surprise her were the two neon boxes on a shelf in front of her. “Excuse me,” she hissed, reaching up on her toes in order to reach them. “These are Atari games!” 

Billy shushed her, shooting a dirty look in her direction. “So what?” he asked. He snatched the two games out of her hands and reached over her to set them back on the shelf. 

Teddi swallowed nervously as Billy’s chest bumped into hers momentarily before she took a step back. She shook her head and fixed an angry look up at him. “You can’t call me a geek when you’re a geek.” 

Billy rolled his eyes. “Everyone plays video games, Larsson. Now stop going through my shit. Unless you wanna sleep in here tonight. That’s more than alright with me…” he smirked down at her.

Teddi rolled her eyes dramatically. “Don’t make me puke, Hargrove.” Billy only chuckled, taking Teddi by the arm and sneaking out of his room and down the hall. He nudged Max’s door open, quickly pulling Teddi in before shutting the door behind them and turning on the light. 

Two heads popped up from the bed. Max blinked wildly as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. El watched Teddi and Billy with such a blank expression that Teddi suspected that El was positive she was only dreaming. “Billy? What the hell?” Max asked with a yawn. 

“I need a favor.” he began.

Teddi cut off whatever he was going to say next with a loud gasp. “Oh my gosh, Max, the sleepover!” she squealed. “Look, I didn’t miss it after all!” 

Billy slapped a hand over Teddi’s mouth and shot a glare in her direction. “I told you, Teddi. Be quiet.” 

“Drunk.” El whispered to Max as she watched Billy attempt to keep Teddi under control.

Max raised her eyebrows and nodded. “She’s trashed. Jesus, Billy, what did you do to her?” 

“I didn’t do anything,” he snapped. “Heather Holloway and about a dozen jello shots did this. Look, she won’t tell me where she lives and I don’t know what else to do with her. Just let her crash in here and make sure she doesn’t choke on her own vomit.” he helped Teddi over to the edge of Max’s bed so she could sit. 

Max and El both shot each other a few confused looks as they watched the pair. Billy struggled to keep Teddi still as he pulled her puffy coat and boots off. Teddi kept complaining, each time Billy hissing out a “stay still” before Teddi would pout and listen before the whole thing started again. Max didn’t think she’d ever seen someone look so inconvenienced by being nice to someone before. And what was even more confusing to her was the fact that Billy had nearly gone out of his way to put himself in this position. 

“Did he do that?” El asked Max quietly, nodding towards Teddi’s bruised eye.

Max shook her head. “She said she slipped on ice or something. It’s been like that for a few days.” she explained as El watched Teddi carefully.

Billy tossed Teddi’s coat and shoes aside and stood, jabbing a finger in Max’s direction. “Make sure she doesn’t wake anyone up, alright? I’ll take her back to her car in the morning. And neither of you tell anyone about this, got it?” 

“Whatever, Billy. Just get out of my room already.” Max hopped out of bed and nearly shoved her older brother out of her room. He shot a slightly worried glance in Teddi’s direction before glaring down at Max. He jerked away from her and disappeared down the hall to his own room. Max shut her door again and let out a heavy sigh. Teddi was lying on her back, staring blankly up at the ceiling.

“...You guys wanna play truth or dare or something?” she asked, her voice slightly slurring. 

Max and El both stifled giggles. “Teddi, it’s a little late for that. I think you need to get some sleep...what are you doing with Billy anyways?” Max asked as she got back into bed. 

“My date totally ditched me. And Billy said he’s trying to be nice...did you know that he’s a Sagittarius?” 

El frowned. “What’s a Sagittarius?” she asked. 

Teddi sat up quickly and turned to face the two girls. “What’s a Sagittarius?” she repeated, her jaw dropped. “You guys don’t know about zodiac signs either?” the two girls shook their heads. “God, what is wrong with this town? Okay, forget about truth or dare. I have like...loads to teach you. It’ll totally blow your minds.” 

Teddi turned to face Max and El, crossing her legs. Max hopped out of bed once again before muttering “wait, wait, wait!” before disappearing for a few moments. She returned with a bowl of popcorn and three cans of coke. The three settled in and Teddi launched into her zodiac lesson. Maybe her night wouldn’t be such a bust after all. Getting drunk with Heather and teaching two twelve year olds about their zodiac traits at two in the morning way more fun than anything she would’ve done hanging out with some idiot on the soccer team. Hanging out with Billy hadn’t been so bad either. It was too bad she probably wouldn’t remember most of it in the morning. 

[forestwater87]

Odd question. If you were doing a wing fic (shorthand: everyone has some kind of wings on their back; up to you if they're always out or if they can be banished and summoned at will) for Camp Camp, what kind of wings would the cast have?

Oooh I love wing fics! Hmmm, let’s see . . . 

David’s would be a little small for his age/size, and he’d probably be kind of embarrassed about that. He can still fly just fine with them -- which he’d say, defensively, if anyone pointed them out -- and they’re very fluffy, white, with little speckles of green flecked throughout.

Now I know most wing fics stick with feathered wings, but it did occur to me that some sort of insectlike wings -- all delicate-looking and iridescent like the surface of a bubble -- would also suit him very well. They’d be a bit more natural and forest-y, but would still have that element of embarrassment and shyness (he was probably called “fairy” a lot growing up, and it’d be a sore spot for him).

That being said, the idea of David having massive wings was suggested by @ciphernetics​, and I must admit that the idea of him either wrapping them around people to protect or comfort them is super cute. Also in a protective moment he could like fwoosh, out they come to shield the campers and it’d be badass. It’s not my preferred hc for him, but there are some lovely ways to play with it.

Gwen’s would be . . . serviceable. Dull, easily overlooked, probably some shade of gray or that kind of dun mousy brown that looks greyish in the right light, bigger than David’s but neither unusually large or small, not especially fluffy but not kind of molted the way some sick people’s are . . . they’re just sort of there. (She was probably nicknamed Pigeon by a lot of people, both as an affectionate term and a derogatory one. And like pigeons’ wings, there are little patches of color among her wings that are hard to see unless you’re looking for them it’s a metaphor get it? aren’t I clever ohoho)

Campbell’s are humongous. The biggest wings ever. He is a mountain of a man, with massive pure-white wings. Some people are convinced he genetically modified them somehow, and they do have this uncanny radioactive glow in the dark but don’t worry about that, it’s perfectly natural and not at all suspicious!

The fun thing about this is that they can get increasingly bedraggled as Season 3 progresses, until they’re drooping and muddy.

Quartermaster has bat wings. I don’t give a fuck if literally every other character has angel wings, QM’s are bats and that’s just the way it has to be.

I like the idea of the campers having small wings that can fit under their clothes, because they haven’t really grown in yet. I imagine maybe Nurf might be an exception, since he seems to be either older or just bigger than the other campers, but for the most part those kiddos look just like their normal selves. That being said, a few ideas of what they might look like grown up:

Max -- black, maybe a little big for his age, like a crow or raven’s wings. When he gets annoyed they puff up and slip out of his hoodie, and it’s a pain to put them back in which annoys him even more and gets them more puffy and hard to stuff back . . . it’s a constant struggle. Pity the poor kid.

Neil -- I’m torn between going with his hair color and giving him some hawklike brown-and-white wings, which I think would look nice with his coloring, and just going hog-wild and giving him wings like a bluebird because of his eyes. I think the latter would be too showy and embarrass him, but there’s something kinda cute about that too. His wings would be like his dad: impossible to ignore and much louder and more obnoxious (in his POV) than they need to be.

Nikki -- big and flecked with golden-orange. Of all the characters I think hers would have the most modifications, because as a kid/young adult she wasn’t careful with them and got them all torn up -- maybe to the point where she can’t even fly with them. But she has Neil and he’s a smart cookie, so I like to think of her wings having a vaguely-steampunk element of mechanisms and patches keeping them together.

Harrison -- white or a very light gray, like a dove’s. He paints the tips gold when he’s older as part of his illusionist costume.

Nerris -- I’m just thinking pure eastern bluebird, orange at the base and then exploding into brilliant blue. I think she’d love how flashy they are.

Ered -- Somehow I want her to have dragon wings. I have no idea why, or how, but I think it’d be extremely cool, and Ered is nothing if not cool. Especially if they’re really rare, almost unheard of, and she’s put a lot of work into transforming herself from the tomboyish freak with the demon wings and gay dads into something to be envious of. Besides, it’s easier to do sick stunts without having to worry about your feathers getting caught on stuff.

Nurf -- All right, I wanna get emo for a moment and say that his wings have been hacked either partly or entirely off by the time he’s an adult. We know he’s been abused in canon, and I think that people like that would go for the easiest target to hurt you, and that target is probably the delicate feathered things sticking out of your back. Bonus points if they’re somehow kind of girly, which coincides with his more sensitive nature and how he initially wanted to do ballet as a kid (especially since I don’t think that was well-received by his family). So, like . . . what remains are very fluffy and sweet-looking, maybe pink or pale yellow and orange or something, but they’re either little stubs he covers up all the time or they’ve got big chunks missing out of them but who’s gonna point that out to the huge guy with a pissed-off expression?

Preston -- Rainbow, like the most extravagant bird of paradise. Does he paint them himself, or are they as natural as he claims? 

Dolph -- Probably something very average and serviceable, in the brown/gray/white family, but they’re always speckled with paint because he’s not very careful with them and especially the long feathers at the bottom trail along the ground while he’s painting, or get stuck to his art if he turns around too suddenly.

Space Kid -- I’m thinking of a duck, for some reason. Partly because they’re aquatic and I just connect the ocean and space for some reason, partly because they’re very ordinary and that’s kind of how SK rolls, and partly because ducks can just flap for insane distances without getting tired (thank you Animorphs!). Space Kid is like that, I think -- very diligent, keeps his head down and gets things done, not very bright but he works so hard it makes up for a lot, and that’s why he’s going to be an astronaut someday. Mallards have those pretty green feathers, too, and I think those would look nice with Space Kid’s eyes.

Jasper -- Peacock. Obviously. He is the most garishly-dressed person in the show and his wings would match. Not that you’ll ever know, because he never gets to grow up and have real wings :( 

So those are the mains! As for some of the less-important characters, I don’t really have too many interesting ideas, but a few throwaway ones:

The Flower Scouts all have pink wings, either feathers or bug/fairy ones. I think maybe Tabii has a chunk missing from one of hers, from a fight or something, and the other girls made a patch so no one can tell and she can fly properly. Erin’s might be just slightly different colors -- one with an orangey tint, one with a blue.

A fun thing about bug wings is they could buzz when the girls are angry. So Sasha’s are basically always going, poor thing.

The Woodscouts probably have their wings bound, clipped, and constantly ready for combat flying. I’m thinking, like, the military-haircut version of wings.

Daniel’s . . . I mean, I don’t care about Daniel because he’s trash, but I do love the idea that they’re not naturally white and he dyes them. It’s my favorite Daniel hc and I need it to appear in every AU.

So that about covers it!

EXCEPT

Then I was talking with Ciphernetics about wing AUs, and I mentioned that in some wing fics (namely the awesome one by setepenre-set, though there are probably others) the wings’ size are based on how loved someone is. Which led to the below cuteness. Warning: shameless Gwenvid and Makkiel ahead, along with me insisting that Cameron Campbell isn’t the worst person in the entire world because I’m love him

Ciphernetics: Max’s wings growing during camp!Max voice: who the FUCK is loving me I specifically requested the opposite of thisDavid: You can even fit them in your hoodie anymore awwwwMax, struggling to pull it on over his wings: the hell I can't

Forestwater:(what if they come in the color of the person who loves you's hair)(so at first it's just this line of red that he knows is fucking David, goddamnit and then all of a sudden start sprouting these mint green and brown ones and my ship takes off)

Ciphernetics: Max, disgusted, throwing an auburn feather at David: get LOSTMax, looking over his shoulder in the mirror at the brown ones gathering at the tips and the mint ones scattered chaotically throughout: huh

Forestwater:Oh no what about when Nikki and Neil's start getting flecked with black, small and easily tugged out like they're ashamed of being there

Ciphernetics: The small really curly little feathery down that like to hide under other feathers(Gwen's had auburn in her wings since almost the first summer but lately it's started to overpower the rest of the colours. Not completely, it's just... Noticeable how much of it is the same colour now.)(She knew David loved people quickly and easily, it's just suddenly a lot more)(or she just wasn't paying attention)

Forestwater:What on earth would David's reaction be to suddenly finding some of Gwen's?I like the idea of her feathers being two-toned

Ciphernetics: I'd love if he's had a very small, slowly growing patch since they met (just a handful more each summer) but some event happens and suddenly there's a lotOh absolutely two tonedHey how about some angst;David's been waiting his whole life for Campbell's hair colourToday at 9:32 AMHe'd never say it but Campbell makes so many throwaway jokes about David being the son he never wanted but it rings a little hollow when there's not when one little brown/grey feather

Forestwater:until the end of season 3 when there's like . . . twoLISTEN I NEED MY TRASH GRANDPA

So that’s just a little bit of extra silliness for added angst/romance/fluff.

Hope this answer isn’t too long, but I was having fun.

[imagineaworlds]

I’ll Always Think of You -- Billy Hargrove

Written by @rune-of-a-writer

Request: “Billys dad finding him with a top, billy to scared to stop his dad from beating the hell out of the guy, maybe max could help and Billys just crying as his step mom and dad and max find out his dark dark secret. ITS SO ANGSTY I FEEL BAD AND I WOULD LIKE IT IF IT ENDED IN MAJOR FLUFF” “Hey regarding the imagine I sent in where billy gets caught with a top, I was thinking it could be in cali pre moving I HIGH KEY AS WELL THINK THATS THE REASON THEY MOVED”

Warnings: Violence, abuse, cursing, homophobia

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Male!Reader

Summary: It was his worst nightmare coming true; and he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

Word Count: 1,866

Listen To: Your Mess Is Mine by Vance Joy

Gif Creds: @xananeedscoffeed

Everything happened so fast. One second Billy was underneath (Y/N), his hands running through the other boy’s (h/c) hair, tugging at it as (Y/N) kissed down his neck, playfully nipping at the center of Billy’s throat. Then his bedroom door was being slammed open and (Y/N) had been pulled off of him at such a ferocious speed, Billy didn’t even have time to blink. He faintly heard the thudding of something hitting his bedroom wall (he assumed that it was (Y/N)), but his full attention was focused on his father in front of him.

This was it. This was everything coming out, in the worst way he could have ever thought imaginable. Billy couldn’t think, he couldn’t speak, he couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. Why couldn’t he breathe?

“I knew you were a god damn faggot,” Billy’s father began, leaning over Billy on the bed. Billy stared up at him, his blue eyes blown wide. His throat had closed up, as if every ounce of oxygen had left him. All he could do was stare at his father. “Every time this fucking pansy would come waltzing in here, I just knew. I wanted nothing more than to smash his head into the window and throw the both of you into the streets,” he continued to rant, practically spitting into Billy’s face. “How long has this been going on?” he questioned. When Billy didn’t respond, it angered him even more. Reaching down, he wrapped his hand around Billy’s neck. The same neck that had just been receiving loving touches moments ago, was now being strangled. “How long?” Neil screamed, tightening his grip.

Now Billy definitely couldn’t breathe. Billy’s ring-covered hands shot up, clawing at his father’s own hands. Blood was ringing in his ears, it was getting hotter and his neck was hurting. God it was hurting. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his step-mom covering her mouth in horror in the doorway and Max yelling something. Billy’s eyes attempted to focus back on his father, trying his hardest to communicate with him to just let go but it wasn’t working. His grip just got tighter. His father’s face started getting blurrier, and dark spots were dancing in and out of the picture. A gurgled gasp left Billy’s mouth, a desperate plea. Why isn’t anybody helping? Why are they letting him kill me? Why do they hate me so much? Why am I like this, why couldn’t I have been normal? Fuck, I’m so sorry, Max. Billy moved his faltering gaze over to his little sister. He knew that if he were to die right here, in his father’s hand, that all the torment and mistreatment he had received would find its way to Max soon enough. Max stared back at him, nothing but pure horror in her eyes.

Suddenly, a book came flying out of nowhere— one of Billy’s Algebra textbooks— hitting his father in the head. The hand around Billy’s throat let go as Neil stumbled back, dropping to the floor. Billy had truthfully forgotten all about (Y/N), his mind going hazy. Once his throat had been granted air, choked gasps, wretched sobs and bloody coughs left his mouth all at the same time. He still couldn’t breathe. Rolling off his bed, Billy fell to his knees, placing his hand over the center of his throbbing throat. His head was pounding, he still couldn’t hear anything and everything was distorted.

“I can’t..” he tried to get out, but it was followed by another cough of blood, spurting onto one of his blue silk shirts that had been laying on the floor. Red hair came into his line of sight, turning his head he saw Max had rushed over despite her mom's protests and his dad attempting to tell her to “Leave the fucking fag alone, Maxine.”

“Billy,” she said quietly, placing one of her hands on his back. Max didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t call the cops or an ambulance— she knew better, this had happened before, but not as severe. But Billy was hurt, and he was hurt bad. “Just… Just lay down, okay?” she said, trying to gently push him onto his side, quickly pulling the bloody shirt out of the way. She pulled his blonde hair out of his face as Billy continued to cough, hot tears falling down his face, his body curled into the fetal position with his back facing Max.

Shouts began breaking out across the room and a loud crash caused Max to snap her head up and unconsciously grip Billy’s shoulder. (Y/N) had been the one to throw the textbook, knocking Billy’s dad to the floor. And now he was paying for it.

Neil had (Y/N) pinned to the wall, yelling in his face. “You’re just a low-life piece of shit! You have nothing going for you, and you and my son can both rot in hell! You’re the reason this country is going to shit, and when Reagan is elected, people like you will finally be forced to understand your sins,” he fired off. (Y/N) stayed silent, staring into the man’s dead eyes. He knew everything the man was saying was false, and it was nothing he hadn’t heard before. “So, what, both of you fucking flamers don’t talk? Are your throats too god damn raw?” he yelled before lifting his knee into (Y/N)’s stomach. He let out a pained grunt as Neil let go of him, allowing (Y/N) to wrap his arms around his stomach. This gave Neil the chance to kick (Y/N) in the face, sending the boy to the ground as he yelped in pain, now clutching his face.

“The only sack of shit in the room is you, Mr. Hargrove,” (Y/N) shot back through bloodied teeth. This earned him a swift kick to the groin, causing another grunt. “What sad man can’t love his own son for who he is, and instead resorts to attempted murder?” (Y/N) questioned, pushing his luck even more as he stared up at Billy’s father.

“You don’t know the first thing about me,” Neil spat out before beginning to lay various kicks to multiple parts of (Y/N)’s body. One would land on his chest, while others perfectly in the middle of his stomach, some in his groin, and few on his face.

“Neil, please!” Susan finally called out, seeing all the blood seeping into the carpet, onto the boy’s pants and not being able to listen to his various cries of pain anymore.

“Susan! He needs to be taught a lesson!” Neil shouted, not stopping his assault on (Y/N).

****

Billy’s air was slowly coming back to him. He could hear again, but his vision was still blurry and was on the verge of fainting. He knew his dad was beating on (Y/N). It was inevitable, but he honestly thought that (Y/N) would’ve run out of the house at the first sight of Neil. Billy was paralyzed at the sight of (Y/N) across the room, his body constantly hitting the bottom of the wall as Neil laid blow after blow. His hair was matted to his face with blood, and one of his eyes had already been swollen shut. His shirt was torn, exposing his stomach, ribs and chest which was red and slowly beginning to bruise. He no doubt had a few broken bones. But Billy couldn’t help. He was useless, like he always was. All he could do was lay there, weak, devoid of oxygen and movement as his boyfriend got the life beat out of him.

Max’s tight grip on his shoulder and comforting one in his hair was suddenly gone, but Billy couldn’t move his head to see why. Slowly though, she came into view as she walked over him, approaching his dad.

“Dad,” she said, it was the first time she had called him that. “Please, please stop,” she pleaded, her voice weak and quiet. Max was never weak, and she was rarely quiet. She was always strong, loud, demanding and knew what she wanted. But not this time. “You’re scaring me.”

Neil stopped. His hand was on the wall, his body hunched over (Y/N)’s broken body. His breathing was ragged and his eyes were squeezed shut. Slowly, Neil turned his head to look at Max. Her fingertips had little spots of blood on them from Billy’s coughing, but other than that she just looked absolutely terrified. Her step-dad was ready to kill both her older step-brother and this boy that none of them knew. So what could he possibly do to her if she were to ever get in his way?

Pushing himself off of the wall, Neil looked over at Billy. He was still on the floor, the coughing and blood had stopped. But quiet tears were still escaping and he still couldn’t breathe or see right, and his hearing was muffled. He knew he wouldn’t be awake for much longer. Then Neil looked at the boy at his feet. His (e/c) eyes were hard to see, but he was strong. He wasn’t about to give up. He had managed to push his body off of the ground and was now standing, leaning against Billy’s dresser, pressing his hands against his side. Next, Neil looked at Susan. She was still stood by the door, a sad look in her eye. She wouldn’t have done anything to stop him, Neil knew that. He didn’t know how to feel about it however. Finally, his eyes settled on Max. She was staring directly into his eyes, pleading with him silently to stop everything. So he did.

“We’re leaving,” he said finally, startling Susan and Max.

“Wha-”

“We can’t be in California anymore. It’s too open, too many fags here. Too many people will know what happened. We’re leaving. Indiana is a Republican state, we’ll go there. Straighten him out. I’ve got an old friend out there from high school. We’ll leave next week,” he said finally before stalking out of the room. Susan followed him quietly, not daring to object. Max looked between the two bloody boys before leaving the room too and closing the door.

Once the door shut, (Y/N) let out a string of cuss words he had been holding in. “Son of a bitch, that fucking hurt,” he finalized, limping over to Billy. Billy had managed to push himself into a sitting position, his back against his bed.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his throat raw. Ironically enough, his father’s statement was right, except his father was the reason he couldn’t speak.

“Don’t be, babe. I knew he was like that, I knew it would happen eventually,” (Y/N) brushed off, wiping the blood off of Billy’s chin. He gently maneuvered the blonde’s head onto his shoulder. “Think of me when you’re in Indiana, yeah?” he joked, trying to get Billy to crack a smile.

“I’ll always think of you,” Billy muttered, his eyes fluttering shut, breath slow and labored.

“I know, handsome,” (Y/N) murmured, laying a soft kiss to Billy’s head. “I know.”

[junker-town]

'The Bachelor' finale recap: Pretty sure Nick and Vanessa hate each other and Rachel’s season is already a train wreck

What even HAPPENED last night?!

It’s here. It’s finally here. We made it through an entire season of The Bachelor and have arrived at the finale — a sporting event as important as the Super Bowl, the World Series, the Masters, the U.S. Open, the Kentucky Derby, and the NBA Finals all rolled into one. We are so close (hopefully) to never again having to watch Nick Viall’s “handsome software salesman” face on our TVs every Monday night.

Oh, wait, except that we will see his face. Because this professional Bachelor is going on ABC’s Dancing With The Stars starting next week, since he can no longer be the Bachelor. I mean, he could, but sweet Jesus, it’d be a bad look if he went home without putting a ring on someone’s finger. I’m almost 100 percent sure it’s going to be Vanessa’s. She’s the image rehab he desperately needs: She’s his age, beautiful, and has a Big Heart, as evidenced by her job as a special needs teacher.

ANYWAY, HERE WE GO! BUCKLE UP, BECAUSE THIS SEASON IS ABOUT TO COMMENCE AND WE ARE ABOUT TO FIND OUR WINNER!

We start with Chris “Crest White Strips” Harrison on a live set. He’s having an absolute ball in the spotlight. This dude gets, like, three moments a season to really shine, and the shiniest is the live “After The Final Rose” show that airs post-finale, when he gets to ask the newly betrothed how happy they are to be, well, trothed.

He keeps telling us that “SOMETHING THAT HAS NEVER HAPPENED BEFORE IN BACHELOR HISTORY IS GOING TO OCCUR ON THIS STAGE LATER!”

And I’m like, what could it be? Do they interview the winner about her career aspirations? Do we get to have a meaningful conversation about the construct of reality TV and what we, as a society, expect from women and men in terms of modern day relationship?

I’m not holding my breath.

IT’S OFF TO FINLAND AGAIN, HERE WE GO

We’re still in goddamn Finland. Like, I knew we were gonna be, but then we keep going back to this beautiful, arctic wasteland and I’m like “Oh, my God, we’re really still here.”

You know who else is here? Nick’s entire family. They all flew to the Arctic Circle for this, including his little sister Bella. This 11-year-old has been on TV due to this stupid show so often that I am close to calling child services and being like, “Yo, is it healthy for a kid to grow up thinking you find True Love by going on The Bachelor and getting your heart publicly broken?”

Anyway, Raven shows up and they all start drinking, obviously. She already met his family when they went to his hometown of Waukesha, Wis., so she’s like hey guys, good to see you in Finland (which, to be fair, seems a lot like Wisconsin). Nick’s mom Mary takes a huge swig of wine as she gives Raven some side eye.

“It’s been emotional,” Mary says. “The other times were hard on him, we got to witness that. It wasn’t easy.”

This beautiful lady is turning 58. Happy Bday Mom. #family

A post shared by Nick Viall (@nickviall) on Nov 27, 2016 at 3:42pm PST

I’m like — hey, maybe you should’ve told your son not to become a professional Bachelor. Maybe you should’ve staged an intervention. Maybe this is all your fault, Mom.

Nick’s parents say they like Raven, but you can tell that they’re actually like, eh.

There are dead animal skins hanging on the walls and covering all the furniture. ABC clearly rented out some AirBnB in suburban Finland and the producers were like, “just throw some roadkill on it, it’ll fool everyone into thinking we’re way deeper in the woods than we actually are.”

VANESSA MEETS THE FAM AND NO ONE CAN STOP CRYING

Nick’s family won’t shut up about Nick’s track record of failing on this show, and we’re like we get it, he’s fucked this up before.

Vanessa sticks the landing when she meets his family. She hits a home run. She scores a touchdown. She says all the right things and has Nicks’ mom crying within five minutes. Then she talks to his dad, and they both just start weeping.

This is very informative. It turns out that Nick’s incessant crying throughout the whole season is genetic. Over three seasons of this, the Viall family has now shed more tears on TV more than any other family in America, including the Kardashians, who’ve been on the air for approximately 15,000 seasons.

Nick’s dad is like, “Son, I hope this woman doesn’t leave you high and dry” (I’m paraphrasing, here). Basically: His family is terrified that their son is going to get humiliated again. They want him to be happy, yes, but they probably also don’t want to have to go back to Wisconsin and be like, “Yeah, our son is the worst reality TV star in the history of the genre. Does anyone have any software they need him to sell?”

VANESSA’S FINAL DATE

❄️ ❄️ #thebachelorfinale

A post shared by bachelorabc (@bachelorabc) on Mar 13, 2017 at 6:01pm PDT

Wow, I can’t believe we have to watch them hang out with each other again. Can’t we just find out who wins?

Vanessa and Nick go on a horseback riding date and Nick says, “Give it a little squeeze with your thighs, you know how to do that.” Go Nick. Congrats on the sex.

They ride up to this hut and Santa opens the door. Yeah, that Santa. The Santa. Mr. Claus. Apparently he lives there. Here he is, The Bachelor’s Finnish Santa, coming to murder you in your sleep:

Nightmare fuel.

I’m Jewish, so I really want Vanessa to mess with Santa and be like, "Look, I'm Jewish, and — you're not real." But Vanessa isn’t Jewish, so that wouldn’t be kosher. Also, this isn’t the time for jokes, it’s a time to be earnest and in love.

Santa gives Vanessa a present meant to represent fertility, which isn’t presumptuous at all. Then Vanessa and Nick sit by a fire and drink out of quaint wooden mugs. She doesn’t seem super sold on the whole “getting engaged” thing, because she spends the rest of the date berating Nick and telling him she can’t believe he’s still messing around with another woman.

I’m like: I’m sorry, have you seen this show before? Do you really not know how this works?

“When I’ve been with you I’ve only thought of you,” Nick says, in an attempt to reassure her. I start slow clapping. That is an incredible move. To tell someone that you’re sleeping with other people, but that you don’t think about those other people when you’re sleeping with the person you’re talking to?

Genius. Filed away.

RAVEN’S LAST DATE AND OH MY GOD PUPPIES

Nick and Raven go skating, which is a call-back to their first date at the roller rink. The song “Kiss Me” plays over the montage again, which leads me to believe the producers paid out the ass for the rights to it and they really want to make sure they get their money’s worth.

❄️⛸⛸❄️ #thebachelorfinale

A post shared by bachelorabc (@bachelorabc) on Mar 13, 2017 at 6:10pm PDT

The date is good. So good, in fact, that we know Raven is being set up for heartbreak. She keeps talking about how much she loves Nick and how ready she is to get married (you know some producer was like, hey, if you say this, you’ll be doing the opposite of what the other woman did, so — you should say it).

They’re trying to mess with us — Vanessa has cold feet! Look how happy Raven is! But we, my friends, know better. We know that this is a red herring and that Raven will soon be crying in a limo.

We are not even fooled when Nick brings out three of the cutest damn husky puppies I’ve ever seen in my life. I gasp and start Googling places to adopt dogs in New York City.

PUPPIES.@BachelorABC #TheBachelorFinale http://pic.twitter.com/gjUEn1OgWx

— Good Morning America (@GMA) March 14, 2017

These very good dogs are the best moment of the whole season.

MOMENT OF TRUTH

I have to tell you a secret. I’m, like, pretty sure Vanessa wins. I know this because Liz Plank, who’s a part of our Vox Media Bachelor recap show First Impressions, is from Montreal and her hairdresser lives down the street from Vanessa. And Liz told me that her hairdresser told her that Vanessa won.

Even so, I’m nervous.

Neil Lane, the diamond guy, shows up. Nick has hung out with him so many times over the course of this show that he's probably gonna make him a groomsman if he ever actually gets himself to an altar.

Nick is a mess. He says he identifies more with the woman he’s sending home than the one who wins, because he’s always the dude who gets sent home.

“I just know this sucks,” he says.

RAVEN WALKS THE PLANK

The cruelest thing this show does is make the person about to get dumped tell the person who’s about to dump them that she loves him, one last time. Raven says how ready she is to get married, and she brings up her dad again.

Nick is a mess. He’s crying. Raven starts to realize this is not her Fairytale Ending. The moment the final contestant realizes she’s getting booted is like when fans realized the Warriors or the Falcons really were blowing those leads.

She clams up. Raven is the most stoic loser in Bachelor history. She doesn’t really even cry in the limo. But she does say, through elegant tears, “Is it just that no one can feel that way about me?”

ARGGHHH! NOO, RAVEN! IT’S NOT YOU! IT’S THIS STUPID SHOW! You are going to be just fine. In three months you will have half a million Instagram followers and you’ll be able to have multiple orgasms with multiple different guys. This is for the best. By losing, you, my dear, have won.

HAPPILY EVER AFTER

If this doesn’t work out, Nick is saying, it’d be “a waste of tears, a waste of broken hearts.” He could be a country singer if he ever runs out of reality TV show steam.

Vanessa enters the room, and he tells her he fell in love with her at the second rose ceremony.

“Every moment since then, I’ve been falling more and more in love with you,” he says. “Plenty of times I’ve tried to fight it. I don’t want to fight it any more.”

He swept me off my feet...literally! Love, love, love you! @nickviall ❤️

A post shared by VanessaGrimaldi (@vanessagrimaldi30) on Mar 13, 2017 at 8:41pm PDT

I have to tell you guys something. It’s the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me. But I’m actually tearing up at the finale of The Bachelor. Vanessa and Nick are both crying, he’s proposing, she’s accepting, and for maybe two nanoseconds this all feels genuine.

Then Nick is like, I got one more question for you: “Will you accept this rose?”

And I immediately snap out of it and return to my natural cynical state. This is cheesy garbage. I give the relationship six months.

AFTER THE FINAL ROSE

We’re back at the live show with Chris “Time to Shine” Harrison, and Nick gets trotted out first. He looks pretty miserable. Then Raven shows up. She’s wearing her best “fuck you” dress — this slinky black silk number — and I’m here for it.

Sorry, wait, one sec, this is completely irrelevant but I just have to show you this picture of Chris Harrison with Santa.

I was trying to think of what major holiday this day reminds me of... but nothing came to mind. #TheBachelor finale is tonight!

A post shared by Chris Harrison (@chrisbharrison) on Mar 13, 2017 at 7:09am PDT

Aren’t you glad you saw that?

Anyway, Raven is very classy and says she does think Nick and Vanessa will get married, though she doesn’t give them a rousing endorsement. Then Chris asks her to go on Bachelor in Paradise this summer, and she accepts, so we have that to look forward to.

VANESSA AND NICK HATE EACH OTHER, I’M PRETTY SURE

Vanessa comes out first, and she spends about 10 minutes telling Chris how hard it’s been to be in a secret relationship and watch Nick make out with other women on TV. They all say this after every season, but Vanessa is really leaning into it. She admits that maybe she should’ve watched the show for a full season before committing to go on it and I’m like “Wait. HOLD THE PHONE, WHAT!? YOU ACTUALLY DIDN’T KNOW HOW THIS WORKS?”

Here is a live look at me watching this right now:

My mind is blown. This explains so much. But also, on an early date, Vanessa told Nick that she watched him on the show for two seasons, which is why she went on to try to date him. So she’s lying somewhere. Either she didn’t watch the show and said she did, or did watch the show and is now saying she didn’t.

But all this pales in comparison to the horrible second hand embarrassment I feel watching Nick and Vanessa try to convince America they love each other.

Chris is like, "Congrats on your engagement!" And they’re essentially like, "Thank you, Chris, we are both completely miserable and realize all of this was a terrible mistake, but we are so locked in now that there’s really nothing we can do about it! Hahahah! Isn’t that just so too bad! Look at us, holding hands! We have our hands on each other’s thighs because we’re just so, so happy! Hahahaha! Oh, my God, please make it all stop.”

One of my roommates comes into the room, looks at the TV, and goes, “This is wack.” Then he leaves.

Vanessa sounds really miserable to be in a relationship with. Everything is about communicating, and speaking her mind. That’s all great, but at a certain point, you want to live rather than talk about living.

Holy shit she said yes!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️. It's been a journey Bachelor National!! @vanessagrimaldi30 I love you!! #thebachelor

A post shared by Nick Viall (@nickviall) on Mar 13, 2017 at 8:07pm PDT

Vanessa and Nick’s celebratory Instagram captions are pretty bland for two people desperately in love. I made merciless fun of Jordan Rodgers after he won last season because he ripped off inspirational posters on Instagram, but at least he leaned into it. Vanessa doesn’t even say “I love you” in her “I won” Instagram. She just wrote “love, love, love you!” Which is what you write when you’re about to break up with someone. The “I” in “I love you” is crucial.

RACHEL’S BACHELORETTE SEASON BEGINS

Rachel shows up. She’s all we have left. If The Apprentice gave us Trump as president, I am hopeful that The Bachelorette might give us Rachel. She's a lawyer and doesn’t appear to be a garbage can of a person the way our current commander-in-chief is. Rachel 2020.

Chris Harrison finally reveals the curveball he’s had up his sleeve this whole time: Rachel’s season is starting right now. He brings out three dudes who will be on her season. She looks pretty shook, but she’s rolling with it. I think it’s mean to spring this on her, but then again, The Bachelor franchise isn’t known for being kind.

The first guy we meet is Demario, who shows up with a ring, which seems like a lot. But he’s handsome and charming.

Then they bring out some white asshole named Blake who goes, “I’m ready to go black, and I’m not going back.”

Oh God, you guys. I’m realizing that the racism — both low-key and probably blatant — on Rachel’s season is going to be out of control. We’ll have all these white dudes with trendy haircuts who think they’re #woke but really aren’t. I’m on my couch with my fleece pulled up over my head and my shoulders up around my ears just thinking about it.

Rachel handles this whole thing with grace. She is too good for us and America doesn’t deserve her. But, boy, am I glad that we get her. I cannot wait to watch her season.

I also have a feeling they pulled this “meet the dudes” gimmick because Nick and Vanessa might break up soon and they wanted to have a fallback news cycle in case the whole thing explodes sooner than they expected.

Anyway. Thanks for coming on this wild ride with me. It’s been a helluva season, Sports Bachelor Nation. Go Pats.