#dacre mongomery x y/n

[allfandomxreader]

A Eulogy for Billy Hargrove

Pairings: Billy Hargrove x Reader

Words: 2.9k

Summary: It’s one week after Billy’s death and Max asked you to speak at his funeral.

Warnings: Definitely cussing but I think that’s it

A/N: Hi I’m back from the dead and have been thinking about Billy a lot lately and thought of this :) let me know what you think! Not my gif!

Masterlist

In the first flashback you were the one talking to Billy, not El whenever he died. 

Billy’s weight presses against you. His hands no longer feel soft and gentle, the way they felt in the months prior. His body no longer belongs to him. His eyes see right through you, almost as if you aren’t beneath him. You still see him as the man you loved --love.

Your body aches. Your head reels from the impact it made against the tile. Your limbs sore from running, your throat still burning from where Billy grabbed you. But none of this matters. You want to reach Billy, you want him to come back to you, for everything to be over and life to carry on.

“Seven feet,” You blurt. His eyes lock with yours for the first time, his body jolting at your words. “You told her the wave was seven feet.” His breathing deepens, his grip relaxes. “You ran to her on the beach. There were seagulls,” Tears escape your eyes as Billy begins to slowly come back. “She wore a hat with a blue ribbon. A long dress with a blue and red flower.”

Billy looks away, his eyes scanning something you can’t see. Something he always does when he’s concentrating. “Yellow sandals, covered in sand.” You choke, “She was pretty,” Billy’s lips curl into something like a smile, the closest he could get in a time like this. “She was really pretty.” You nod and he follows your actions, curls bouncing beside him. “And you, you were happy.”

Tears cascade down his cheeks. You reach for him, slowly, as if asking permission to touch. “Do you remember telling me this?” He nods again, eyes fluttering closed. “Do you know who I am?” Another nod. “I love you,” You sob, “I love you so much.” You want to hold him, to feel his skin against yours.

The sound of the Mind Flayer’s screeches pull Billy away. Just when you finally had him back, he was taken once more. He stands slowly, squaring his shoulders like he does to seem threatening.

The Mind Flayer screams but Billy doesn’t flinch. From where you lie, you can see the terror spreading through Billy’s eyes. You already know what’s coming, the monster will reach for you. There will be pain. You don’t want to die, you’re not ready. But Billy came back, and right now, to you, that’s all that matters.

Instinctively, you kick yourself back. Using the last bit of your strength to scoot away from the Mind Flayer, but there’s no use. You can already see the hand shooting from his mouth. You raise your arms to block your sight, accepting pain, accepting death.

And then nothing.

When your eyes open you only see Billy. His hands push against the Mind Flayer, running at it, trying to save you. He’s screaming, you can almost feel his agony through his cries.

You see the other hands too late. It’s too late to scream, too late to warn Billy. The Mind Flayer tears into Billy’s side. Billy doesn’t stop screaming. Another hand into his body. Billy’s grip weakens, his limbs fall back to his sides but the hands don’t stop coming.

With one final scream from the Mind Flayer. Dark liquid leaks from Billy’s mouth, you can’t tell if it’s blood or whatever’s left from the Mind Flayer’s possession, maybe both. He hasn’t stopped screaming.

The Mind Flayer shoots one last hand, this time into Billy’s chest. Billy falls silent, his body limp in the monster’s many hands. The monster retracts, Billy’s body dropping to the floor.

It was your turn to scream, a sudden burst of strength pulsing through your body, just enough for you to reach him. He’s gasping, choking on the darkness that’s pooling in his mouth. “Billy?” You sob, hovering over him. Your hands brace his shoulders that are slick with sweat. “Billy, Billy please.” You shake him, trying your best to keep him awake, to keep him alive.

“I love--” Another choke, “You too.” His voice is hoarse, but nevertheless, it’s him. You can tell by the twitches in his lips that he wants to smile, he wants to speak, to say how everything will be okay like he normally does when life gets shitty. You reach for his hand, squeezing it gently, careful to not add to the pain he’s already in. He squeezes back.

The blue in his eyes fade, his lips in a line, his body perfectly still. Just like that, in a span of a few agonizing moments, the Mind Flayer took everything from you.

Billy Hargrove died six days ago.

You stare at your reflection in the mirror, the young woman staring back is almost unrecognizable. Your eyes swollen, the circles beneath them so dark even makeup couldn’t hide them.

You should be getting ready for college, packing up last minute things for your dorm, bidding goodbye to your parents, eager to get the hell out of Hawkins. Instead, you’re preparing to say goodbye to a man that was taken too soon.

You clutch the crinkled eulogy in your hands, folding it gently and tucking it into your pocket. With a final deep breath, you carry yourself through the house and out the door and into your car.

The four doors and cushioned seats used to be comforting, but now it just reminds you of Billy. Even his scent still lingers, or maybe you’re just imagining it.

“I hate when you drive, you know? You always take turns too fast and hit every single pot hole on the road.” Billy scoffs, dipping some fries into ketchup that’s smeared onto a napkin.

“Oh, so suddenly I’m the bad driver?” You laugh, “That’s rich coming from you Mr. 60 miles per hour in a 35” as if on cue, your tires glide over broken pavement jolting you and the complaining passenger.

“You just proved my point!” Billy laughs, flailing his hands dramatically. His outburst sends the napkin from the console and onto the seat and his jeans. “Shit.” He grumbles, peeling back the flimsy paper and rubbing it with clean napkins.

“Don’t rub it, shithead! That’ll make it worse!” You screech, trying to stay focused on the winding stretch of road ahead of you.

“How else am I supposed to clean this shit off then?” He only rubs the condiment into the seat’s fabric further.

“You blot it... I think?” You chuckle, watching your boyfriend struggle beside you with ketchup covering his fingers. “I swear to god if that stains my seat you’re never going to hear the end of it, Hargrove.”

You stare at the dark, lopsided stain that still adorns the passenger seat. You can faintly make out his sincere apologies through his laughter. You almost laugh at the amount of chemicals the two of you scrubbed the seat with. You’ll never wash it off, or even try to. Not now.

Billy’s burial is tucked away near the edge of the cemetery. Knowing Neil, it was probably the cheapest plot of land he could find. Even in death, he couldn���t honor his son. It makes you sick.

Today, the air is warm, the sky is clear, not a single cloud in sight. The sun beats down on your black clothes, you feel as if you’re being burned alive. As if you haven’t endured enough pain to last you a lifetime.

You walk leisurely along the path not ready to face the closed casket. You weren’t ready to face a lot of things that this day will bring. The looks of solemn faces, the look of concern. Your mother has worn that look every single day. People will ask the inevitable: “Are you okay?” and of course, you’d have to say yes.

You aren’t okay. You don’t know if you ever will be. Billy left a gaping hole that will never be filled. He was your other half. Everyone will tell you “It’ll get better with time.” but it won’t. You could live seven lifetimes and the pain of Billy’s death will never get any easier.

You hear voices behind you. The annoying shrill of Carol and Tommy’s voice linger behind you. “Should we say something?” Carol says in an attempt to whisper, she’s never been very good at it.

“Be my guest.” Tommy hisses. They fall silent as they approach, their footsteps even slow. Carol doesn’t say a word, neither does Tommy, and soon they pass. You meet Carol’s eye, the look of sympathy written across her features. You can’t tell if she’s faking it or not, either way it disgusts you.

Carol’s claws for nails drag along Billy’s bicep, he doesn’t bat it away. “Billy,” She sings, bringing the red cup to her lips, staining the plastic with expensive lipstick. “Come on, just this once. Forget about the little bitch for just tonight. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.” She purrs.

Billy rolls his eyes but looks at her nevertheless. He opens his mouth to say something but is cut short when locking eyes with you.

Your hands shake, rage pulsing through your veins more than the alcohol. You throw the half empty cup against the wall, trudging out of Tina’s grand house and into the cold autumn air.

“Y/N!” He calls after you, pushing through the crowd of teenagers. “Hey! Would you just stop walking for two fucking seconds?”

“Fuck off, Hargrove.” Your feet don’t stop moving. You don’t know where you’re going or even where the sidewalk leads, but anywhere is better than that house.

“I didn’t even do anything.” He jogs to catch up.

“Exactly. You didn’t do anything. You could’ve told her to piss off or push her hand away but you did nothing!” Billy watches your arms move in wild motions as your anger got the best of you. “For fucks sake, is everything you said a lie? Everything that we’ve done and talked about, was it all just some sick game to you?”

“What? No! I--”

“Because it looks like you’re still the same power hungry horn dog that you were when you first stepped into town. Fuck, I should’ve listened to Nancy or Steve, or literally anybody with a working brain to not get involved with you.”

“What are you talking about? Carol means nothing to me.” He’s frantic, you can tell he’s being truthful. You almost feel bad for making a scene. You stand silent for a moment, crossing your arms over your chest to keep warm.

“Then why didn’t you defend me?” Your voice is almost lost in the wind but Billy catches every word.

“You stormed out before I could even say anything.” He sighs, taking slow steps towards you. “I’ve never lied to you, everything has been nothing but the truth. I’m sorry I was a piece of shit when we met but I promise I’m not that guy anymore.” He folds you into his chest, the scent of tobacco and alcohol invades your senses.

“You promise?” You whisper. He pulls away, taking his warmth with him.

“Fuck Carol, or any other girl. I want you, I love you. I’ll love you until my heart stops. I’m going to be yours forever.”

“Jesus Christ,” You chuckle, “Are you proposing to me right now?”

“No, but one day, I’d like to.”

There was a lot of truth in what Billy said that night at Tina’s party. He loved you until the very last second of his life. But you didn’t think forever would just be memories and old ketchup stains. You thought forever would entail a marriage, maybe kids, if not at least a dog. Forever should’ve ended sixty years from now, not six days ago.

A sea of black greets you when you finally make it to the burial. People are milling around, some talking to one another, other’s munching on refreshments you’re surprised Neil even arranged. People stop talking as you pass them.

You see Max, her tear stained cheeks, tissue balled in her hand. Lucas holds her free one, El rubs soothing circles along her shoulders. The rest of the teenagers are beside her, nobody says anything, each of them staring at the closed mahogany casket just a few feet in front of them.

The funeral begins, a minister takes the podium and rambles about the afterlife. Neil even talks, he says bullshit about being a proud father and how Billy meant the world to him. You can’t help but roll your eyes. Susan blots her tears and gives Max a soothing pat on the leg as her daughter emerges, brushing past Neil as she messes with the microphone.

“Billy--” She begins, words caught in her throat. “Billy was my brother,” She opens her mouth to say more but her voice fails. Her sobs are amplified from being so close to the mic. Through blurry vision, her eyes meet yours, a silent plea to help her.

You stand, gaining attention and murmurs from the audience. When you reach Max, you pull her into a hug, stroking her hair as she cries into your shoulder. “It’s okay, I got you.” You rock her back and forth, ignoring the uncomfortable shifts from people in their chairs.

Max finally stands, still sniffling. She squeezes your hand before taking her seat between Lucas and El.

You lean close to the microphone, shifting it slightly so you could stand straight. “Um, a few days ago, Max asked me to speak today,” You start to pull the wrinkled paper from your pocket, ignoring the smeared ink and tear stains before balling it up and tossing it to the side. He didn’t deserve something rehearsed, that’s not how either of you did things. You refuse to start today.

“Billy Hargrove was a lot of things. He was a student, an athlete, a brother,” You pause, giving a weak smile towards Max that she attempts to return, “A friend, and probably the love of my life. I know a lot about Billy, I know him better than anyone sitting here today. So, I thought I’d share with you who the real Billy Hargove is.” You breathe, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“If Billy ever told you that his favorite color was red, you shouldn’t have believed him. It’s actually blue. More specifically, he told me it was the color of the sky on a clear day.” You look towards the sky, the sun blinding you only for a moment. “Billy would’ve loved today. He’d look up at the sky, he’d close his eyes, and stand in silence. After a few moments he’d beckon for me, and I too would face the sky with my eyes closed. He’d ask if I could hear it, the waves, the seagulls. Truthbetold, I’d never be able to. I’ve never heard the ocean. But I’d always say yes.” You smile fondly at the numerous occasions where that exact scenario occurred.

“Billy was smart, he was one A away from a 4.0. He always took pride in having a higher GPA than me. Billy was also strong, and not just because he worked out everyday. No, Billy was strong because he had to be.” You glare at Neil for a brief moment, making him move awkwardly in his seat.

“Billy deserved so much more than what was given to him. I wish he could’ve seen California one last time. I wish he had the chance to leave this town, to start over, to never look back. He deserved that more than anyone else I know.” You take another breath, mind racing for something else to say, something to make people know Billy wasn’t the monster they believed him to be.

“California was his happy place. He told me many times that wherever I was, he was happy. But I always knew his happy was in California. Billy would tell me all kinds of stories about him and his mom. There was this one story where he caught a wave that was seven feet. He ran and told his mom who was on the shore. He never forgot to emphasize how pretty she was. How happy she was, how happy he was.” Tears prick your eyes, threatening to spill as you retell the story for the second time this week. This time, Billy wasn’t your audience. “He always talked about how one day he’d see her again. I wish he got that chance.”

“Billy died a hero, in many ways most of you could never understand. He died a hero to me,” Your eyes travel to find Nancy, Steve, and Johnathon. Each of them give a knowing, proud smile. You look at the young teens in the front row, the boys stare at their shoes, kicking their toe into the earth below. El wipes away tears, Max grins at you through hers, clinging to every word you speak. “To all of us. Even if you don’t know it.” With a final deep breath, you open your mouth one last time to finish your speech.

“Billy didn’t know peace for most of his life. I hope that he does now. And I hope wherever he is, the sky is forever clear, that he can see the ocean waves and hear the seagulls.”

Most people have left by now. Nancy and Johnathon made sure to give you hugs, Nancy reminded never hesitate to call. You said you would, but both of you know you’d probably never pick up the phone.

You sit alone staring ahead at the grey tombstone. “In loving memory of William Hargove. A loved brother and son.” You trace the words with your eyes over and over, unable to look away.

“I’m sorry,” You say quietly, “I know you would’ve wanted it this way. But it should’ve been me.” You stand, taking a final look at the empty cemetery. “I’ll love you until my heart stops, Billy Hargrove. I’m going to be yours forever, I promise.”

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