#the ending to dear billy always makes me cry

[stevie-petey]

episode four: dear billy

“That’s-old!” Nancy digs through her closet, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. You walk over to the poster and nod appreciatively at it. “Hey, Tom Cruise is pretty. I don’t blame you.” “Hey!” Steve waves his hands in the air, offended and completely overwhelmed. You shrug at him. “You’re the one who wants me and Max to die, so I get to call an actor hot.”

Summary: steve almost hits lucas with a lamp, you try to trick your boyfriend into a gloomy arrangement, steve and nancy have a Talk, robin suddenly becomes an academic weapon, and max threatens legal action, gets really into hallmark cards, and levitating. all in that order.

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: swearing, fem!reader, use of y/n, slight suicidal thoughts if u squint

Words: 11.7k

Before you swing in: hey gang !!! im back, wrote this severely hungover, and ive never been more excited to share a chapter with yall. dear billy is my favorite ep from season 4, the ending haunts me, so i hope i can haunt yall too <333 enjoy !

–

Max won’t wake up.

Your fingers grip harshly on her shoulders as you shake her. Her eyes remain vacant. There isn’t any life within them. “Max, wake up, please.”

Dustin grabs your arm, he’s never seen you so broken. “Y/N, you have to tell us what’s going on.”

“It’s–” your eyes sting with tears. The metallic taste of blood fills your mouth. You think you’ve bitten your tongue. “I-I can’t.”

You’ve forgotten how to speak, how to say anything other than Max’s name as you plead with her to come back to you. 

Steve’s hand finds your other arm. He’s trying to talk to you, telling you to steady your breathing. He tells you that you’re having a panic attack. He’s worried you’ll hurt Max or even yourself if you continue to thrash with blind fear. 

“Y/N, angel, I need you to listen to me, alright?” Steve’s breath hits your face, but you refuse to let go of Max. “We can’t help her if you’re panicking–” Suddenly, after an agonizing minute, Max breaks out of her trance. The sound of her sharp inhale echoes off the office walls. Immediately she collapses into your arms, she’s crying and hiccuping uneven breaths. 

“Y/N,” she shakes against you, you pull her even tighter into your chest. Her hands grab at your arms, your waist, anywhere they can reach. Almost as if she’s afraid you aren’t real. “Am I-am I awake?”

Your nose presses against her red hair, your arms tremble from how tightly you hold her. “You’re awake, this is real.” 

Dustin kneels next to you and Max. His tone is gentle, his eyes fill with concern. “Why wouldn’t any of this be real?”

Max pulls her face away from your body, her eyes look up at you. She’s looking for the answers you don’t have. Her eyes are still frightened, wild with fear. Her body stands on edge. Her spine stiff, her skin cold. Placing a soft hand over hers, you answer for her. “She had a vision.”

Steve’s breathing stutters, Dustin lets out a quiet curse. Max slowly starts to remove herself from you, although her hand never leaves yours. She stands up, albeit with some difficulty, and she tries to wipe away her tears. “I don’t… I don’t know what to do.”

“That’s okay,” you murmur to her, easing her distress. You feel as if you’re talking to an injured animal. “Let’s start with telling us what you saw. Can you do that?”

Max jerks her head, nodding. With Steve’s help, she’s able to take uncertain steps out of the office. She quietly instructs him on where to guide her. He’s careful with her, he takes his time helping her. Dustin walks next to you, his own arm extended towards you to help, but you gently decline him. 

At the end of the hallway, Max points her flashlight against the wall. “Here.”

“What was here?” Steve asks.

“A grandfather clock. It was ticking, over and over, but it,” her voice catches on fresh tears. “It isn’t here.”

Dustin looks at you, raising his eyebrows to silently ask you if you understand what Max is saying. You shake your head. There was nothing about a grandfather clock in the files you read, but it’s a detail that you can’t overlook. There has to be a reason she saw it.

Doors burst open behind you, disrupting the quiet of the night. You spin around in alarm, hand finding your knives, but you relax when you recognize the squeak of Robin’s sneakers and the click of Nancy’s heels. 

“What’s going on?” Nancy takes in the scene before her. You’re all standing against the wall, flashlights illuminating it. Fresh tears stain your face and Max’s. 

“Max, she…” Dustin sighs. He hates not having all the answers. There’s an unease that comes with not knowing. He’s spent his entire life trying to outrun it. “She saw something. A grandfather clock, I guess.”

“It was here. Right here,” Max insists, frustration in her voice.

Nancy tilts her head. “A grandfather clock?”

“It was so real.” 

You step closer to Max, your hand finding her shoulder once more. She doesn’t have to explain anything else. It’s clearly hurting her too much to do so. “Hey, you don’t have to give us all the details–”

“When I got closer, suddenly I just…” She doesn’t look at you, doesn’t listen. “I woke up.”

“It was like she was in a-a trance or something.” Dustin mumbles, before he remembers something. “It was exactly what Eddie said happened to Chrissy.”

Unease settles over the group. Eddie had been telling the truth. If there was any doubt remaining of his innocence, there’s none left now. Slowly, you watch as everyone pieces together what you and Max already know. One by one, the light in their eyes dims; Steve’s finds yours. 

The look in his eyes shatters you. The brown is coated with anguish, he’s already mourning you. He doesn’t like where this is going.

You look away. 

Max turns, her breathing quickens. Dried tears still mark her face. She looks at you, silently asking how much she should tell the others. You’re a part of this, too. It isn’t just her life in their hands. She’s giving you the choice to run, to pretend that everything is fine. To continue what you’ve been doing since senior year started. 

She wouldn’t blame you, and you know this. 

But you can’t run. Not this time. Not when Max needs you, not if somehow you can figure out a way to make sure that she survives. 

You nod at Max. 

She inhales, prepares for impact. “That’s not even the bad part.”

– 

Everyone crowds around Ms. Kelly’s office. No one dares to turn the light on. A part of you wonders if this is done consciously, if the light would make everything more real. 

“Fred and Chrissy, they both came to Ms. Kelly for help.” Max explains to Robin and Nancy, informing them of what you found. Nancy reads over the files, Robin’s eyes don’t leave your body. “Uh, they both were having headaches, bad headaches that just wouldn’t go away. And then…”

“The nightmares.” You continue, gaze not meeting anyone. You stare at the wall ahead of you. There isn’t any emotion in your voice. “Trouble falling asleep, staying asleep.”

Steve tries to get you to look at him. He remembers all the late night phone calls. He’d noticed you wince earlier in the trailer park, how you rubbed your temples and told him it was nothing. His mouth goes dry with every little detail he once dismissed. 

“And then they started seeing things,” Max doesn’t look at anyone either. Her voice shakes, she tries to hide the tears that don’t seem to go away. You grab her hand. It’s the only indication that you’re still with her, still listening. “Bad things, from their past.”

Dustin shifts uncomfortably. Last week he’d woken up to you screaming Billy’s name. He had ignored it. 

“These visions, they just kept getting worse and worse, until eventually…” Max pauses, the words refuse to come out. Her body freezes up, her stomach clenches. 

“Max,” you whisper, only it’s spoken as a promise. As a reassurance. 

She inhales again, squeezes your hand so tight that it cuts off the circulation, but you don’t let go of her. “Until eventually… everything ended.” 

Robin sees your hand in Max’s. She notes the way it’s held with an understanding, not with a condolence. She swallows. “Vecna’s curse.”

“Chrissy’s headaches started a week ago. Fred’s six days ago.” The air in the room builds into a dull roar. No one moves. Time stills. Max takes another shaky breath. Thunder has sounded, lightning is about to strike. “I’ve been having them for five days.”

Even though you knew what she was going to say, hearing the words come out of Max’s mouth chokes you. The panic from earlier returns. The frantic need to protect her, to pull her into your arms and never let go of her. 

“My headaches started two days ago,” your voice is barely above a whisper. It feels more like a confession of a sin, rather than a confession of weakness. “The night of Lucas’ game.”

The moment you’ve revealed this, Steve and Dustin simultaneously whip their heads up to look at you. Panic shadows their faces, the two of them rush towards you and nearly topple over the other to get to you. 

“No, something isn’t right.” Steve’s in denial. He doesn’t want to believe it. Neither do you. 

Dustin grabs your face, he pulls it down so he can get a better look at your eyes. “You could be dehydrated, or-or tired. Headaches are caused by a lot of things. You’re pale, you’re probably sick and this is all just conspiracy bullshit and–”

“Dustin,” you loosen his grip on you, trying your best to sound as gentle as you can. “You know it isn’t conspiracy bullshit.” His eyes wet with tears, for once in your life you don’t know how to protect him. You choke on your own tears again, breaking. “I-I’m fine, alright? We need to focus on Max right now, she’s the one who had the vision.”

“But you have all the symptoms, too!” Steve exclaims, too scared to look away from you. He can’t believe you’re saying this. He’s always known how selfless you are, but you’re in danger. You could die. Why don’t you care?

Max angrily wipes at her face. She hates that you’re already putting her ahead of yourself. She doesn’t deserve the kindness, the sacrifices you’re already making. “Look, we don’t know how much time we have to argue about this. All we know is that for Fred and Chrissy, they both died less than 24 hours after their first vision, and I just saw that goddamn clock.”

“Max,” you break away from your brother and try to reach for the girl, but she’s crying again and anger clouds her vision. “Whatever you’re thinking, I promise that–”

“I’m going to die tomorrow, Y/N!” She cries out, too tired and devastated for your reassurance. 

You tug at her jacket. “You’re not dying tomorrow.”

None of this is fair. Max is too young, she’s been through too much, she’s survived too much to be manipulated like this. To have her life taken away too easily. It should’ve been you. Vecna should’ve targeted you instead of Max. He should’ve shown you the vision, cursed you before her.

Anything to keep Max alive. 

She’s about to argue with you, she knows what you’re implying, but a creak down the hall alerts you that there’s something nearby. Everyone turns towards the source of the sound, the heightened energy in the room leaves you all on edge. 

“Stay here,” Steve instructs the group, already stalking towards the door to find where the sound came from. 

You roll your eyes at him, grabbing his arm before he can leave. He’s an idiot if he thinks you won’t follow after him, fight by his side. “We’re both going.” 

Steve narrows his eyes but doesn’t argue. Instead, he nods reluctantly and points towards your knives. Understanding, you flick your wrist and extend the blades. He nods, satisfied, before he grabs a lamp from the corner and holds it up with pride. The lamp clatters loudly, it’s a stupid weapon, but you suppose it’ll have to do.

Together, the two of you slowly exit the room and creep into the hallway. The school is terrifying at night, the empty halls eerie. You walk side by side while the others trail quietly behind. The sound of footsteps rush towards you, getting louder and louder with every step.

Steve looks at you, raising his lamp to his head, and you raise your knives. You plant your feet on the ground, you brace for whatever is about to round the corner. 

A figure emerges, screaming when it nearly runs into you and Steve. The person screeches, cowering, and your knives nearly come down upon a frightened Lucas. Your arm freezes, scream dying in your throat when you realize there isn’t any danger. “Jesus fuck, Sinclair!”

The boy holds his hands up in surrender. “It’s me!”

Steve clutches his chest, pressed against you after jumping into your arms when Lucas appeared. It hadn’t been his manliest moment, he’ll admit. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m sorry,” Lucas pants, and it’s then that you notice he’s drenched in sweat.

“I nearly stabbed you!” You exclaim, feeling horrendously guilty.

Steve sputters. “Even more importantly, I could’ve taken you out with this lamp!”

“Oh, sure. The lamp definitely would’ve helped.” You mutter sarcastically, but Steve is too busy still trying to steady his heartbeat to care.

Lucas apologizes again, hunched over his knees as he tries to catch his breath. “I was biking for eight miles.” He holds a finger up, winces in pain. “Give me a second. Shit.”

Everyone looks at each other, bewildered by Lucas’ sudden appearance. Your worry grows, he’d mentioned earlier how there was something bad happening, you’d heard Jason over the radio. Cautiously you step towards him. “Please tell me you biked eight miles for fun.”

Lucas shakes his head. “We’ve got a code red.”

Your heart drops. “It’s Jason, isn’t it?”

“How do you always do that?” He wheezes, somehow still surprised when you figure everything out first. It’s what you’ve always done. He’s never been able to hide anything from you. Seeing your pointed look to cut to the chase, Lucas turns to your brother. “Dustin, she’s right. I’ve been with Jason, Patrick, and Andy, and they’ve gone totally off the rails.”

He explains the basketball team’s plan to hunt Eddie down and make him pay for what they think he did to Chrissy. When Lucas mentions how Jason is looking for Dustin now because he’s in Hellfire, all you see is red. 

“I’ll kill him,” you hiss, fingers scratching over the engraving on your knife hilt. An old nickname resides there, a remnant from an old man who told you to use the weapon with love. 

“Y/N, while I’m flattered you’d kill for me, we kinda have bigger problems than Jason now.” Dustin says nervously, turning towards Max. The reminder stabs at your skin, reignites the bitterness and remorse.

Lucas looks between you and the girl, finally realizing how quiet everyone else has been. His head turns to you for some sort of explanation, it’s instinctual within him now to go to you for advice, solace and comfort. It’s what he’s grown up doing.

Except for the first time in Lucas’ life, your eyes don’t meet his.

Max stands apart from everyone. Her eyes don’t meet his, either.

Lucas had biked all this way to save his friends. He thought the biggest monster he’d have to face was Jason and the team. He didn’t think he’d be walking into the final hours of the two girls he loves more than anything. 

– 

Nancy offers you and Max her house to stay in. Neither of you can stomach the thought of going home, facing your mothers with the knowledge that they might lose their daughters soon. 

Dustin, Steve, and Robin refuse to leave your side. Lucas refuses to leave Max’s.

The seven of you stand awkwardly in the Wheeler’s kitchen as Nancy asks her mother permission to have you all spend the night. Her mothers greets you all kindly as she always does, albeit confused as to why half of Hawkins is spending the night at her house. “I mean, do we have the room, Nance?”

“We’ll all fit in the basement.” Nancy reassures. “We just figured it’s safer this way, sticking together.”

Mrs. Wheeler coos with sentiment and relaxes her shoulders. “Oh, alright. It’s scary, what’s happening out there right now. I understand.”

You give a weak smile to her. “We really appreciate your hospitality, Mrs. Wheeler.”

She smiles back at you and gently ushers everyone downstairs. As you descend the steps, you realize that she’s right. It’ll be a tight fit with everyone, the couch is barely large enough to comfortably sit three people. 

But the smell of the basement is familiar, earthy and safe. It’s been a long time since you’ve been down here. You used to spend countless nights in the basement ever since you were twelve. The boys always insisted you join their campaigns. You’d always drag Jonathan with you. There’s so much laughter within these walls, tears and the hardships of growing up. 

“Where are we all gonna fit?” Dustin sits down on the couch, eyeing the space around him.

Conversation breaks out as the sleeping arrangements are assigned. It’s nearly a heated debate, no one wants to be separated from you and Max. The girl stands off in the corner, barely listening, and you can’t help but do the same. As Dustin and Robin bicker over who gets to sleep on the couch, you use the distraction as an opportunity to slip away upstairs. 

The night air is cool against your cheeks as you sit on the Wheeler’s porch. The quiet is welcomed, your body aches with the need to have a moment to yourself. You don’t know how late it is, you wonder if your mother is asleep right now. Dustin had called her when you arrived at the Wheeler’s. He had given her the same excuse you’d given Mrs. Wheeler about wanting to stick together in a group. 

You wonder if your death will be what finally breaks your mother. The heartbreak of the divorce had weakened her, the death of her daughter would kill her. But Dustin will need his mother; he can’t grieve you alone.

With everything going on, all the revelations and despair, you haven’t had the time to properly come to terms with what’s happening; the weight of it sits deep within your chest.

The target on Max, on you. 

Steve finds you on the porch with your knees curled into your chest, trying to make yourself as small as possible. His heart tightens at the sight. Slowly, he sits down next to you. The warmth of his body simmers your skin, his presence quells the dull roar inside you. 

Your head falls against his shoulder. It’s quiet between you. All there seems to be these days between you and Steve is silence.

Fireflies flicker in the distance. You close your eyes, pretending they’re shooting stars, and wish for the end to be kind to you. 

“Remember the last time we were on the Wheeler’s porch together?” Steve whispers into the quiet of the night. You shake your head against him. He grabs your hand, plays with your fingers as he watches the fireflies. “Almost four years ago I found you here while I was looking for Nance. You’d been looking for Jonathan, but you tried lying about it.”

You manage a small laugh, remembering faintly the night he’s referring to. Hearing the laugh, Steve feels just a little bit stronger, more grounded. He continues. “You’ve never been a very good liar.”

“No,” you agree.

“That night… well, it was awful.” Faint bitterness leaks into Steve’s words. He remembers how hurt he’d been, finding Nancy wrapped around Jonathan. His girl underneath the creep’s arm. He remembers the anger that quickly followed, how heavily it consumed him. “Thought I’d been cheated on, and it was a pretty shitty feeling.”

Your finger skims over his knuckles. There’s a faint scar on them from his fight with Jonathan. You remember the anger from that night, too. The violence that followed it. You’re not sure why Steve’s is telling you all of this, though. 

“Nancy never did cheat on you, you know.” You softly remind him.

Steve chuckles, pulls you closer into his side. “I know that now. But that night, it just-it really fucking hurt, you know? Thought I’d never feel anything shittier, that my night couldn’t get any worse. But then… I saw your face.”

He swallows, shivers at the feeling of your fingers tracing his scars. “When I saw you standing there, all alone, the way your face fell when I told you about Jonathan,” Steve shakes his head. “The heartbreak on your face, that fact that I couldn’t do anything to protect you from it. That’s what hurt me the most.”

A heartbeat of silence, it almost deafens you, before he finally says, “And it’s why I won’t let anything else happen to you.” 

Your heart constricts at Steve’s promise. You know he means it, that he’ll die defending his oath, and that’s what terrifies you the most out of everything that’s happened tonight. 

Steve and Dustin will do whatever they can to keep you safe. They don’t want to lose you, they can’t lose you. They’ll burn themselves up if it means you’ll survive, but you don’t want them to. You don’t want any of this. 

All you want is for Max to survive. 

“Steve,” your head lifts up, he turns to look at you. Meeting his eyes, all you see within the brown is grief. It’s a funny thing, feeling someone’s grief for you within their gaze; it burns. “You have to protect Max.”

“Y/N–”

“No, you-you have to promise me, alright?” Your hand rests against Steve’s chest, he tries to cave into you but you won’t allow him any closer. Not like this, not when you need him to make a promise you know he can’t keep. 

Steve presses his head against yours and he breathes you in. He’s shaking against you. “I don’t…. I don’t know what you want from me.” He’d do anything for you. Whatever you ask of him, he’ll do it. 

“Promise me that if it–” your breath catches, your lips quiver with hesitancy. It isn’t fair, none of this is fucking fair. “Promise me that if it comes down to me or Max, you’ll choose her.”

Steve’s body retracts from yours as if he’s been stung. His heart is racing, a roar deafens his ears. He can’t breathe, his eyes can’t leave yours, he doesn’t know what to do. You’ve already given up. You’ve already decided to give your life in exchange for Max’s, and Steve doesn’t know what to do.

He’s never been able to say no to you. 

“Angel,” the cry is so soft, so heartbroken, that for a moment your resolve slips. You almost reach towards Steve, caress his cheek and apologize over and over again for making him do this. Your lips can feel his skin against them, but you don’t press against it; you don’t allow yourself to.

“Please,” You’re crying. The tears fall freely down your face, too tired to stop them. All day you’ve held them in, put up a front for your brother and Max. They can’t know how terrified you are. They need you, they can’t see you like this, but here, alone with Steve, you finally break. 

Seeing your tears, Steve finally wraps his arms around your body and just holds you. You cry for a long, long time. Everything comes out, then. The anger, always within you, that threatens to boil over, the heartbreak of losing Jonathan, the guilt of leaving Dustin behind soon, how the guilt intensifies when you think about letting Max die instead. 

You’ve been here before. 

“I’m choosing you, Y/N.” Steve whispers, lips pressed softly against your hair. Your body stiffens, he feels it, but he holds you tighter instead. “I’ll always choose you.”

“Steve…”

“Please don’t make me say no to you.” He pulls away, grabs your face and makes you look at him. You’re pale, tears wet your lovely face, and all Steve wants to do is fall asleep with you forever. He strokes the crest of your eyebrow, kisses your forehead. “Please don’t make me lose you.”

There’s more Steve wants to say. He wants to refuse you, he wants to scream, he wants to demand an explanation from you. There’s a mark on you that he would give anything to erase. How could you possibly think Steve could ever make a promise like that? To agree to let you die, as if your life isn’t worth everything to him.

The anger in Steve’s eyes startle you. His voice is frail, his body weak, but his eyes are alive with a deep fury as he looks at you. Pleads with you. The anger closes your throat, renders you speechless. 

You know that there’s nothing you can say that will change Steve’s mind. You’ve come to a stalemate. A tie between two ends of desperate halves. 

“I’m tired,” your voice cracks. It’s the closest you’ll come to admitting anything else. Another headache is forming, all you want to do is sleep in Steve’s arms. “Can we go to bed, please?”

I don’t want to fight anymore. 

Steve can see the weight of exhaustion that crushes you, and he sighs, nodding. “Yeah, angel. Whatever you want. I convinced Robin to give us the couch.”

I’ll do whatever you want, as long as I get to hold you in the end.

You nod back at him. The unspoken words settle between you, they linger in the shadows, but for tonight they’re put to rest. Lifting your arms up, you silently demand to be carried, and Steve can’t help but laugh softly. He stands up, bends down to scoop you up, and carries you back inside the Wheeler home. 

The basement couch is small, the two of you hardly fit, but neither of you mind. It’s an excuse to be as close as possible, a reason to tuck your chin into the crevice of Steve’s neck, absolving him to wrap his arms around you, as if he can shield you from the horrors that will come.

– 

Steve wakes up to whispering.

His eyes blearily open, his body twists in a sleepy haze. He’d been having a good dream. You were in it, you were laughing in his ear. It’d been a warm, spring day. Just the two of you. But he’s awake now, and when he looks down he finds you sound asleep on his chest. 

“Do you really think…?” Another whisper, and Steve squints against the dark to figure out who it is. Lucas and Dustin are snoring together on the ground. Max is in the armchair, her small frame wrapped around the cushioning. 

“I don’t know,” a different voice whispers, and this time Steve thinks it’s Robin. The dim lighting muddles away and he can see the outline of her nose. He thinks she’s talking to Nancy, she’s the only other person who could be awake right now. “But it’s Y/N, I-I’m worried, you know?”

Nancy nods. “She wouldn’t–” She pauses, sensing that someone is listening. Suddenly Steve can feel her eyes land on him. He’s been caught. 

Clearing her throat, Nancy excuses herself from Robin and walks towards the couch. She stops just out of Steve’s reach. He doesn’t move, his arms don’t leave your body. For a moment they stare at one another. Robin busies herself in the corner, leaving the two of them alone. 

Steve doesn’t remember the last time he was alone with Nancy. Her presence makes him uncomfortable, the history between them heavy. He still holds so much admiration and love for the girl, he always will, but he doesn’t know what to do with all the excess love now that they aren’t together. They never really got the chance to be friends, and it’s something Steve regrets every day.

He’s sure they would’ve been the best of friends. Maybe similar to you and Jonathan. 

The thought startles Steve, almost as much as the question that falls from Nancy’s pink lips. “How are you dealing with, you know…?” 

She motions softly towards you, still asleep. Your head is tucked against Steve’s neck and your breathing is steady. He rubs the length of your spine. He isn’t sure what to say to Nancy. How to answer her question in a way that won’t betray your trust. He knows what you’ve told him tonight was meant only for his ears.

But Steve is terrified of what you’ve revealed to him. 

“She wants us to focus on Max.” He finally whispers, the confession clings to his lips in deceit. “Not… not on her.”

Nancy nods, as if she was expecting Steve to say this. Her eyes harden slightly, though the crease between her brows soften with understanding. “Y/N already decided who we’ll save, hasn’t she?”

Steve swallows, he avoids her gaze. It’s all the confirmation Nancy needs. She nods again, she stares down at you and is struck by how young you look in the moonlight. She’s older than you by only a few months, and yet tonight Nancy feels as if there’s years that stretch between you. 

“She’ll try to sacrifice herself.” It isn’t a question, though Nancy still pauses as if to give Steve a moment to respond. They both know the answer. Anyone who has ever known you would know the answer. When Steve doesn’t say anything, she sighs. “I’m not surprised.”

You’ve always been so devoted to the ones you love. 

Nancy remembers the day she met you, how shy she’d been back then. There was a hardness within you, when you first moved to Hawkins, though Nancy never blamed you. Being twelve is difficult, and she saw the softness that was underneath the hard exterior that would one day resurface. 

When Mike was ten, a year after you entered his life, he broke his arm riding his bike. It’d been raining and his wheel caught on the curb. Nancy hadn’t been home at the time, spending the day at Barb’s. When she returned home to find you diligently wrapping his cast with plastic bags so that he could shower, Nancy was almost angry to see you taking such tender care of her brother. It was supposed to be her job. 

But the anger was gone the moment you smiled up at Nancy and asked if she’d like to help. You’d included her with such ease, made room for her where Nancy had thought there was none. 

For years this pattern followed. The boys adored you, you quickly became their favorite sibling out of the party. Often Nancy would find you in her basement, surrounded by the boys as you joined their campaigns or delivered them the cookies they always fought over. 

If one of them was sick, you’d spend hours by their side, spoon feeding them medicine. When Lucas chipped his front tooth, you were the first to react and call his parents to pick him up. When Will spilled water all over a drawing he’d spent weeks on, you helped him recreate the art piece. It’d taken you hours, but you never once complained. When Dustin lost his favorite model rocket, you biked two hours to find him a replacement. 

Over and over again you gave everything to everyone you’ve ever met. 

“She’s always been selfless. It’s what I admire the most about her.” Nancy says delicately. It’s the truth. For years she’s watched you, always at a distance. She’s never understood how you do it, how you can give so much of yourself to others without any cost. “But sometimes, I-I hate the selflessness as well.”

Because the cost has come; the cost will be your life for Max’s. 

Steve brushes a strand of hair from your face. Sometimes he hates how selfless you are, too. “I can’t lose her, Nance.”

The pained words litter papercuts into Nancy’s skin. She watches the way Steve’s fingers skim your face with gentle passivity. She’s never seen him so soft with anyone, not even when he was with her. The thought makes her stomach twist. 

Jonathan is soft with Nancy, he always has been. For the first time since he’s moved, she’s happy he’s in California. She doesn’t know what she’d do if he were here in Hawkins, marked by some creature in the Upside Down that wants to kill him. 

“I’m sorry,” Nancy breathes out. She can’t imagine what Steve’s going through, all the fear and guilt that must burden him. She wishes she could say something else, anything else, but what more can Nancy say? You could die soon. None of it is fair. 

Steve is quiet. He still doesn’t look at Nancy, he hardly even acknowledges her presence. She knows he doesn’t do this with malice. He’s overwhelmed, mourning someone who is still alive. Figuring he needs some space, Nancy tries to leave. “I’m sure you’re exhausted, I’m sorry Robin and I woke you up. Go back to sleep–

“I’d follow her to the end of the world if she asked me to.” Steve says, stroking your hair. “Even if that means fighting some asshole in the Upside Down, I will.”

The corners of Nancy’s mouth turn upwards, a small smile that she doesn’t bother to hide. “I’m sure we’ll figure it out, without going to the Upside Down. Stick to our own universe. I’m sure Y/N would agree with me.”

“Yeah,” Steve chuckles, careful not to disturb you. “I’m sure she would.”

You stir in your sleep. Although you don’t wake up, Steve hums softly. It’s a melodic tune, one Nancy has never heard before, but he does it without thinking. His body eases into the song, your body relaxes again. 

“There you go,” he whispers into your ear, tightening his arms around you as you drift back to sleep. It’s an intimate moment, too intimate to watch. Nancy takes it as her cue to leave. 

“Goodnight, Steve.”

He smiles up at her, rests his head against yours. “Goodnight, Nance.”

– 

Dustin forgets how different he and Steve are. 

While he thinks the guy is cool and all, and he can’t deny how happy he makes you, Dustin could really do without Steve’s obsessive worrying. He’s constantly stressed about something, regardless of the situation. He’s all heart, always carried away by his instincts. Dustin is the opposite, he’s logical and uses reasoning to figure things out. 

Which means that all morning Dustin has been reading the newspaper printings that Nancy found. He’s been quietly taking notes on Victor Creel ever since the sun came up. He knows that if he does all the research, read in between the lines, that he’ll be able to save you. Dustin refuses to let you or Max die; he’s always been able to crack a complex problem. 

Meanwhile, all Steve has done is pace the floor, mumbling to himself, for hours. 

It’s driving Dustin insane. 

“It’s pretty straightforward.” He says to Steve, who still isn’t able to understand where Victor Creel falls into all of this. “Everyone Vecna has cursed has died, except for this old Victor Creel dude Nancy found. He’s the only known survivor; if anyone knows how to beat this curse, it’s him.”

“Okay, I seriously don’t like talking about the whole ‘death’ part,” Steve rubs his eyes. He hates thinking about it, he hates how apathetic you were last night about sacrificing yourself. When you woke up this morning, you didn’t mention last night to him. Instead, you’d strayed towards Max and haven’t left her side since. “There being only one known survivor really doesn’t make me feel any better about Max and Y/N being cursed.”

He should be doing more. Steve knows he can do better, that he can find something if he just tries harder. Then, skimming the newspaper lines again, his eyebrows draw in. “Which is even assuming Victor was cursed. How can Vecna have even existed back in the ‘50s? It doesn’t make any sense.”

There’s too many unknowns. They drown Steve and pierce his skin. 

Dustin explains his theory about how El hadn’t really created the Upside Down but instead opened a gate to it. “I wouldn't be surprised if it predated the dinosaurs.” 

Steve scoffs and Lucas drops his own print of the newspaper back onto the couch. “But if there wasn’t a gate in the ‘50s, how did Vecna get through?”

“And how is he getting through now?” Steve adds, nodding at the teen.

“And why now?”

“And why then?” Steve���s arms drop to his side, he’s getting worked up again. Nothing adds up. “Just pops out in the ‘50s, kills one family, and then just disappears, only to return 30 years later and start killing random teens? Targeting my girlfriend?” 

Dustin drops his head into his hands. His own head hurts, Steve admittedly brought up some good points. Still, he also doesn’t like the idea of Vecna marking you. “She’s my sister, you know. I could be an only child soon.”

“And yet you’re annoyingly calm about all of this,” sitting down, Steve crosses his legs and sends a pointed look Dustin’s way. “A little humility now and then wouldn’t hurt you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Next time my sister gets cursed by some demonic being, I’ll sob on my hands and knees and get absolutely nothing done like you are!” 

Lucas shoves Dustin’s shoulder and motions over towards the corner desk where you and Max sit. “Would you two shut up? They’re gonna hear you.”

Dustin and Steve turn to where Lucas points, the anger in them dies out. All morning you’ve been with Max at the desk. The girl furiously scribbles on paper while you sit next to her, silent. 

Max hasn’t said anything for hours, but she also hasn’t asked you to leave her alone. You think she wants you close to her just as much as you want her close to you. The presence of the other is calming, even if you can’t bring yourself to ask what Max is writing. You’re afraid that you already know. 

“Did they sleep?” Dustin mumbles, noticing the slouch in your posture and the bags underneath your eyes. 

Lucas winces. “I mean, would you?”

“Y/N slept for a little bit last night, but…” Steve looks down at his hands. He’d woken up to you having a nightmare. It’d taken him nearly five minutes to calm you down afterwards. “It wasn’t enough.”

All three boys stare at you and Max. They don’t know what to do, they’ve never had to handle a loss like this before. A silence falls over them, but it’s soon broken by the sound of Nancy’s heels running down the stairs as Robin follows. 

“Okay, so.” She beams, so does Robin, and for a moment Steve is foolish enough to have hope. “We have a plan.”

– 

As always, Nancy’s plan is brilliant. It’s also extremely illegal, but you’ve come to accept this about the girl. You flit through the fake transcripts she’s presented you. “These are impressive, they look so real.”

Robin taps your nose. “Thank Nancy’s newspaper minions.”

“You think they could make me one?” You ask, eying the high GPA Nancy and Robin allegedly have and their years of research expertise. “Might need it for grad school.”

“Why would you even need one? Nance and I are now rock-star psychology students at Notre Dame. We can just write you a killer recommendation letter as Ruth and Rose.”

You tilt your head at Nancy, a teasing smile on your face. “I take it you’re Ruth, huh?” She shrugs, smiling as well. Your eyes catch on the area of research on the transcripts, and you snort. “Schizophrenia? Y’all couldn’t come up with something less on the nose?”

“You were asleep and it was all we could think of.” Nancy rolls her eyes at you and clears her throat, finally continuing with her explanation. “Anyways, we called Pennhurst Asylum and told them we’d like to speak with Creel for a thesis we’re co-writing on paranoid schizophrenics–”

“And I’m sure they denied you.” Crossing your arms, you lean against the seat you share with Steve. When Robin tells you that they did, you snort. “I would’ve warned you had I known. No way would an asylum let two random undergrads speak with a patient. It violates, like, every patient privacy law there is.”

Nancy crosses her own arms and smirks at you. “True, but we were able to land a three o’clock with the director.”

“I don’t know why I ever doubt you.” You amend, and Nancy laughs. Robin finishes explaining the plan and how they’ll try to charm the director to let them see Creel. Your eyes wander towards Max, who still sits at the desk as she writes. Sighing, you nod at Nancy. “It’s a risky plan that relies heavily on luck, but I think it’s worth it if it means we can get rid of Max’s curse.”

“And yours,” Nancy reminds you gently. 

You don’t look at her, pretending not to have heard. An awkward silence falls upon the group. Steve looks to Dustin for help, but the kid can only shrug. Not wanting to burn through the small hope he’s feeling, Steve clears his throat. “Well, we’ve been doing our Victor Creel homework and, um. Have some questions of our own.”

“Lots of questions.” Lucas echoes. 

Nancy sighs. “So do we. Hopefully Victor has the answers.”

“Maybe I can help,” you offer, looking between Nancy and Robin. “I mean, I’m kinda the only one here who understands psychology. I doubt either of you even know what the DSM stands for.”

Robin sticks her tongue out at you. “Of course I know what it stands it, obviously it’s the diagnosed s’many m’people.” 

You throw a pen at the girl and she dodges, giggling. While the two of you bicker, Steve looks through the fake transcripts and quickly realizes something. “Wait a second, there’s only two in here. Where’s mine?”

Nancy squirms in her seat and avoids his eyes; Robin does the same. You tilt your head at Steve and narrow your own eyes. He recoils slightly, sensing that he’s upset you somehow. Before an argument can arise, Nancy claps her hands and stands up suddenly.

“Alright, I guess that’s settled, then.”

“No, no way is anything settled.” Steve stands up too, now following Nancy as she tries to flee upstairs. They’re gone within seconds, leaving you and Robin alone with the kids. 

Picking at your nails, you share a weary look with Robin. “Is it even worth following?”

“Probably not,” she knocks her shoulder against yours and motions for you to start walking up the basement steps. “But Steve will talk Nancy’s ears off if we don’t intervene.”

Knowing she’s right, you tell Dustin and the others to stay in the basement while you try to talk some sense into your boyfriend. The boys snicker at this, though Max is still writing in the corner. Following Robin upstairs, you can hear Steve’s whining long before you get to Nancy’s room.

“Nancy, you’re out of your mind if you think I’m babysitting, again.” 

You try really hard not to take offense to this. Steve is being exceptionally difficult this morning and you’re slightly pissed off that he seems so butthurt over Nancy not wanting him to tag along. You’re the one who is cursed and in danger. You need Steve right now. Not her.

Faintly, in the back of your mind you wonder if all this anger within you has something to do with Vecna. The jealous vitriol is foreign, the insecurity that follows it is disarming. You’ve been hurt before, you’ve felt anger before, but never like this.

“Nice to know that you view staying with your endangered girlfriend as babysitting, Steve.” You say as you walk through Nancy’s doorway, highly unamused. 

He spins around and nearly chokes when he sees you. “Okay, no. That’s not at all how I meant. I-I just mean–”

“Oh my God,” Robin bursts into the room and immediately rushes towards something on the wall. “You have a Tom Cruise poster!” She admires it for a moment before realizing that this is Nancy’s room, and her interest grows. With a smirk, she turns to the girl. “Wait, you have a Tom Cruise poster. 

“That’s-old!” Nancy digs through her closet, cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

You walk over to the poster and nod appreciatively at it. “Hey, Tom Cruise is pretty. I don’t blame you.”

“Hey!” Steve waves his hands in the air, offended and completely overwhelmed.

You shrug at him. “You’re the one who wants me and Max to die, so I get to call an actor hot.”

“I never said that!” He shrieks, hands finding his hair as he tugs harshly at it. Everything is coming out wrong. Nothing he does is ever right. Isn’t that what his father always tells him? 

Panicked, Steve rushes towards you and grabs your hands. His eyes plead with you. “Angel, you gotta believe me, alright? I-I just don’t want to stand around while you’re in danger. I have to do something, and-and maybe I can be helpful with this asylum director dude, right?”

“Steve…” But he doesn’t hear you. 

“I don’t know, I could turn my-my charm on,” he rambles on, pulling you close and closer as he talks. “Just, please don’t think I want to leave you. God, I don’t. But I’m going crazy without answers and I–”

“Honey,” even though Nancy and Robin are watching, you grab the back of Steve’s neck and pull his head down into your neck. Your other hand wraps around his body, hugging him as tightly as you can. He’s spiraling, overthinking everything. “Breathe with me. Can you do that?”

He nods weakly, nose pressed to your skin. In and out he breathes with you. With every breath he exhales, your anger towards him dims. Steve had only been trying to help. That’s all he’s ever wanted to do for you; help you. 

“Now,” you gently pull away after his breathing has steadied. “While you’re charming, I doubt your charm will be what Nancy and Robin need.”

“Ouch,” he quietly says, a hint of laughter in his voice. 

Nancy tries to ease any remaining tension. “She’s right, Steve. I did a little digging last night, and it turns out this Dr. Hatch is a distinguished fellow of the American Psychiatric Association and a Harvard visiting scholar… If anything, we could use Y/N’s charm more.”

“Normally I’d love to win someone like Dr. Hatch over.” You admit, biting your lip. The man sounds incredible. You’d kill to meet him, to actually speak to someone so distinguished in the psychology field. There’s so many questions you have, hundreds of journals and published papers you’d love to ask him about. 

Then you remember Max’s messy handwriting and the exhaustion in her eyes. The tear marks on her face, how she hadn’t wanted you to leave her side all morning. You can’t possibly leave her right now.

“But I have to stay with Max.” 

Robin, Steve, and Nancy all look at one another. Their expressions are similar, yet unreadable. They’re in some unspoken agreement that you aren’t a part of. Your skin warms with discomfort. Without meaning to, you look towards Steve and silently beg him to stay with you. 

Everything is weird and scary and you’ve been marked by some goddamn monster from the Upside Down who wants you and Max to die. Every bone inside you leaks cortisol and your body drips acid terror. 

Yet the only thing you want right now is for Steve to be here, next to you, holding your hand through it all. 

“If you’re staying, I’m staying.” He finally says, promising you. 

You release the breath you’d been holding. He exhales with you and your hand finds his. Lacing your fingers together, the pounding in your head quiets. 

“Not to ruin this lovely moment, but there’s a tiny ballerina in here.” Robin opens a jewelry box she found and it begins to play soft music. 

Nancy glares at her while you laugh. Steve rolls his eyes at his friend. “While I’m all for staying here, how are we going to turn ballerina girl over here into an academic scholar?”

“I might be able to give a brief overview of psychology to y’all?” You offer, but even you know that there wouldn’t be enough time. 

“Or, we could do this.” Nancy pulls a frilly, pink dress from her closet. It’s covered in ruffles and she holds it up, pointing towards Robin. Her eyebrows are raised in amusement, she barely hides her pleased snicker.

Robin stares at the dress, utterly speechless. “Oh, please tell me you’re joking.”

“It’s very… pink?” 

“Shut up, Y/N.”

“At least I tried.”

– 

After Nancy and Robin leave for Pennhurst, you find yourself pretending to read a comic while Lucas, Steve, and Dustin stare at you. They sit across from you on the basement couch while Max remains at the desk. 

You try to ignore them, but their beady little eyes make your skin crawl. When they aren’t staring at you, they’re staring at Max. You feel their eyes drift from you to her, over and over again. 

“Would you guys stop it?” You finally snap, slamming your comic down onto the coffee table.

The boys jump, all grabbing various items to try and appear nonchalant. Lucas holds a newspaper up and smiles awkwardly, Dustin yanks a book from the table and flips to a random page, and Steve tosses a baseball into the air as if he’d been doing so all along. They all look away, heads turned in opposite directions.

“What, did you say something?” Steve asks coyly. 

Max turns in her seat. “We know you guys are staring at us.”

“We’re just hanging out,” Steve tosses the ball again and Lucas nods. 

You roll your eyes at them. “Yeah, real convincing.”

“How you guys think your eyes boring into our skin is protecting Y/N and I from Vecna, I don’t know.” Max mumbles, collecting the paper she’s been writing on all morning. 

She walks over to the sitting area and you poke her shoulder playfully, hoping to get her to laugh. “Ignore them, they’re idiots.” When she stands before the boys and no one lifts their head to look at the two of you, you sigh. “Okay, now you’re taking this too literally.”

“You can look at us now.” Max says, to which all the boys sigh in relief. 

“Thank you,” Dustin breathes out while Steve and Lucas mutter quiet apologies. 

“Is there anything you need?” You ask the girl, noting that she’s carried her papers over to where everyone sits. 

Max nods, taking a deep breath, before extending her arm. “Yeah, I need you to take this.”

In her hand is an envelope with your name written on it. She gives one to Dustin, too. Then Lucas and Steve. The envelope is heavy in your hands. Though you suspected what Max had spent her morning doing, the reality of the goodbye letter in your hand makes your stomach twist. 

“Oh, and um. Can you give these to Mike, El, and Will?” Max asks you, handing three additional letters to you. “If you can ever get a hold of them again.”

Your head moves numbly, you think you manage to nod. Nausea wracks your skull. 

Dustin goes to open his letter and Max quickly stops him. “Woah, hey. That’s not for now. Don’t open it now.”

Your brother raises his eyebrows but does as he’s told, putting the letter back in the envelope. He squints at Max, confused, and holds up his letter. “I’m sorry, what is this?” “It’s, um…” Max looks down, clearly uncomfortable. Her eyebrows pinch together and she can’t seem to say anything else.

“They’re goodbye letters.” You answer for her, staring down at your own letter. A part of you wants to burn it, to never read its content, but the other, smaller part of you wonders what she could’ve written for you. After all the times you’ve failed Max, you’re sure she struggled to say anything nice about you.

Steve makes a pained, surprised sound. “Goodbye letters?” “It’s more like a fail-safe. For after.” Max tries to amend, as if her explanation makes the bitter taste sting less. “If things don’t work out.”

Lucas sits up in alarm. “Max, things are gonna work out.”

“No!” She exclaims, angry. “No, I don’t need you to reassure me right now and tell me it’s all gonna work out.”

“But Max, we will figure it out, alright? We will, there isn’t any reason to not–”

“People have been telling me that everything will work out my entire life, Y/N!” Max cuts you off. Her cheeks are red, her body is stiff. “And it’s almost never true. It’s never true. I mean, of course this asshole curses me.”

Suddenly all the fight within her leaves. The hurt comes back, the fear. Max looks away in shame. “I mean, for Y/N it doesn’t make any sense. But for me? I should’ve seen that one coming.”

She stands in front of you with tears in her eyes. The deafening silence that follows haunts you. Lucas can’t speak, Dustin and Steve don’t know what to say. And you? All you can do is swallow back your own tears and remind yourself that you’re here for Max. That she needs you. 

“You aren’t being fair to yourself.” You say gently, reaching out to grab her hand; but she pulls away instead. You blink away your tears and move towards her, you want nothing more than to wrap her in your arms forever and never let go. “Max, I’m serious. You don’t deserve this, you don’t deserve half of what life has given you. I’m sorry that you’ve come to think otherwise.”

Max turns away as if she hadn’t heard you. Instead of responding, she turns around and walks towards a discarded table. Her eyes land on something. Picking it up, she holds up one of Dustin’s radios. “If we go to East Hawkins, will this reach Pennhurst?”

Dustin informs her that it will while Steve is hesitant. “Why are we talking about East Hawkins?”

Max stares at him, and at the same time, you and Steve realize what she’s asking: she wants to leave the Wheeler home. “No!” You both say, but Max is already grabbing her backpack and walkman. Cursing, you follow after her. 

“Max, wait!” She’s frustratingly fast and it isn’t until you’re outside that you catch up to her. Grabbing her arm, you force her to stop. “Hey, listen to me–’

“I’m not driving you anywhere.” Steve cuts through, frantic as well. Lucas and Dustin trail behind, not at all willing to argue with Max.

“If the two of you think I’m going to spend what is likely the last day of my life in the armpit that is Mike Wheeler’s basement, then you’re out of your mind.” Max rips her arm from your grasp and marches towards Steve’s car. 

“If you would just listen, I can–” But again Max interrupts you.

“Either take me where I need to go or tie me down, which is technically kidnapping of a minor.”

Steve looks at you in bewilderment at what Max has said, but you’re too busy running after her and huffing with annoyance. “Steve has already kidnapped a minor, he’s a professional at this point.”

“Hey!”

Max continues towards the car. “Well then tell your boyfriend that if I live to see another day, I swear to God, I will prosecute.” She tries to open the door, but it’s locked. “Open the door.”

Steve looks at her as if she’s insane. “Uh, no.”

“I know a good lawyer.”

“Where the hell are you meeting good lawyers in Hawkins?” You shove yourself in between them and glare at Max. You shake your head at her. “Anyways, if you had stopped for five seconds, I would’ve told you that I agree with you and that I would talk to Steve for you.”

Max looks at you, surprised. “Wait, you’re freeing me?”

“Okay, the Wheeler basement isn’t a prison, but yes.” You turn to Steve, who has already started to protest. “And as for you, you’re going to do what Max says.”

“But–”

“No.”

“Y/N!” 

“Unlock the car, Steve.”

He stares at you. You stare back, standing your ground. Max crosses her arms and joins you, daring Steve to argue. He sees the tension in your jaw, the determined look in your eyes, and he throws his head back and groans. “God, I hate this.”

You smile at him evilly; you knew he’d give in. “Keys, please.”

Steve digs through his pocket and tosses the keys to you, annoyed. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

You unlock the door and beckon for Max to get in. She thanks you, and you wink at her. Skipping over to the passenger’s side, you get in with grand flourish, leaving Steve alone with the boys. 

Lucas smirks and Dustin outright laughs in Steve’s face. “Dude, she so owns you.”

“Zip it,” he snaps his fingers. He doesn’t at all have the energy for this. “Little Henderson, that super walkie of yours better reach Pennhurst.”

And with one last threatening glare at your brother, Steve finally gets into the car. The engine roars to life. Soon, the Wheeler’s home fades into the distance. 

– 

The air in the car is tense. 

Lucas, Dustin, and Max all sit in the back while you sit next to Steve. He’s playing one of his old mixes and the music is the only sound within the car. Max stares out the window, turned away from everyone. 

When Steve pulls up in front of her trailer, he parks the car and faces her. “This better be fast, Mayfield.” “Steve!” You hit his arm, berating him. “She’s here for her mother.” “It’s fine, Y/N.” Max unbuckles her seatbelt and gets out. “I’ll be twenty seconds.”

The door slams and you pull out your own walkman. You’re anxious, being alone with the boys. You know they want to ask you a million questions, but for the first time in your life, you don’t think you have it in you to lie to them for their own comfort. 

Before you can hit play on Jonathan’s mixtape, you feel multiple pairs of eyes on you. Looking up, you find that you’re once again being stared at by Steve, Dustin, and Lucas. “What?”

Your brother clears his throat. “No, uh. Visions yet?”

“No, Dustin.” Though you both know that if it did happen, you wouldn’t tell him. Putting on your headphones, you push play and allow the music to slowly creep over you. The conversation ends there.

Steve says something to Dustin, you don’t hear nor pay attention to it. The Beatles sing and you can finally breathe. You miss Jonathan more than anything, but the pain of missing him is now tainted with the ache of guilt. 

After a few minutes, unable to sit still, you all stand outside Steve’s car and wait. Your foot taps the ground and Steve checks his watch every few seconds. When you see Max round the corner, you sigh with relief.

“Hey, that was longer than twenty seconds.” Steve says, relief flooding his own voice.

You’re about to tease her, but then you realize how pale she is. She doesn’t look good, her breathing is irregular and she’s fighting back tears. Worried, you try to stop her. “Woah, what happened? Are you okay?”

Only Max storms past you and flings herself into the car. “I’m fine, just drive.”

“Is she…?” Steve looks at you helplessly. He doesn’t know what the right call here is. Max is clearly upset about something, she’s visibly shaking, and yet she still insists on pretending that she’s fine. 

All you can do is shake your head at Steve, just as helpless. “I don’t know, but we just… We have to be there for her.”

He nods solemnly before getting back into the car. Before he drives away, Lucas asks Max if something happened, and again she lies through her teeth. You try to catch her eye in the rearview mirror, but she adamantly stares out the window once more. 

Soon the only sound in the car is Max giving quiet directions. With every instruction she gives Steve, the more the string in your chest constricts. You’re going deeper and deeper into west Hawkins. It’s mostly woods, Hopper’s cabin is closeby. 

It’s also where the cemetery resides. 

“Turn here.”

Dustin looks at Max, reluctant. “Here?”

She nods as the Roane Hill Cemetery sign greets everyone. Steve inhales deeply, but he doesn’t say anything as he turns. You grip the edge of the seat, bile rising in your throat. It’s been a long time since you’ve been here.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” You ask Max, breathing through your nose to try and settle the ache in your stomach. 

She doesn’t acknowledge your question; she jumps out of the car as soon as it stops. Before you can run after her, Lucas is already scrambling to follow her. He chases after her, says something to her, but you can’t hear anything. 

“What’s going on, why did Max take us here?” Steve risks touching your arm, seeking any source of solace from you that he can. 

Your hands shake slightly. Steve can feel it, and he tightens his grip around you. He tries to get you to look at him, but you can’t face him. Not now. Not yet. Instead, you keep your eyes on Max. “This is where Billy is buried.”

Steve sucks in a breath and Dustin closes his eyes. Neither of them ask you how you know this. They didn’t attend his funeral, but you did. 

You’d held Max’s hand as Billy’s casket was lowered into the earth. 

You’re torn from your thoughts when Lucas comes back to the car. He’s upset. You look up and see Max walking towards the tombstones. There’s a letter in her hand. You know who it’s meant for. 

She’s gone for a while. The minutes go by with agonizing latency. Steve remains in the car, tapping his fingers against his window anxiously. His watch never leaves his line of sight. You stand next to Dustin outside, too nervous and overwhelmed to sit right now.

Lucas sits perched on the hood of the car. He stares straight ahead. Max is just barely visible over the hill. Her back is turned towards you, she faces a tombstone. It’s lighter than the others, not yet darkened by weather and age.

It’s Billy’s tombstone. 

The grief of losing a sibling is a chasm, endless and void of everything whole. Without thinking, you reach for Dustin’s hand. He lets you, squeezing your hand, as if thinking what you are. 

The rise and fall of Max’s shoulders tells you that she’s talking to someone. That she’s talking to him, and it’s almost too intimate of a moment to watch. You feel terribly guilty, but you also can’t look away. You’re terrified that if you do, she’ll somehow disappear. 

After nearly ten minutes, Steve glances down at his watch and curses. “Alright, it’s been long enough.”

He opens the car door and gets out, slamming it behind him. The action startles you, puts you on high alert. Lucas protests, insisting that you give Max more time, but Steve doesn’t listen. “I’m calling it. If she wants to get a lawyer, she can.”

“I’m coming with you,” breaking away from Dustin, you follow after Steve. You respect Max’s wishes, but he’s right. It’s been too long. Turning towards the other boys, you give them a weary look. “Stay here, please?”

Lucas doesn’t like this. “But–”

“We’ll be right back.” You promise him, running after Steve up the hill. 

He’s already reached the crest of the hill by the time you catch up. He jogs towards Max, whose back is pin straight. She’s eerily still, almost too still, and immediately you start to feel panic crawl up your neck. 

“Max, time to giddy up, yeah?” Steve stops in front of her, but the sincerity in his voice is quickly replaced with fear. Max’s eyes are rolled back, she doesn’t respond to any of Steve’s touches. He bends down, shakes her. “Max? Max!”

She’s in the same trance as last night. You drop down next to her, knees scraping against the grass below you. “Max, sweetheart.” Cupping her face, you gently try to bring her back to you, but she’s as cold as ice. 

“Max!” Steve claps his hands in front of her face. He’s yelling now, just as scared as you are. “Hey, wake up!”

“Max!” Over and over again her name rips from your mouth as tears coat your face. You scream and cry and shake her lifeless body, begging her to wake up. To say something, to smile at you, to argue with you and push you away. 

Anything. You’ll take anything. Just as long as she’s alive.

Steve shakes her shoulders almost as violently as you do. Choking on terror, you scream down to Lucas and Dustin. “Help! Help us!”

Your hands are joined by Lucas’. The two of you scream Max’s name. Vecna has her. You’ve failed, she’s going to die because of you. You hadn’t followed her, you should’ve made her stay with you back at Steve’s car. It’s your fault, it’s always your fault.

“Max, you gotta get out of there!” Lucas cries, gripping the girl’s skin harshly. But still she doesn’t respond. “Can you hear me?”

“Please.” Your voice is hoarse, you don’t even know what you’re pleading for. All you know is that Vecna has her, that Max is about to die. And you can’t do anything. 

Steve grabs Dustin’s jacket roughly and yanks him forward. “Call Nancy and Robin! Go get them, call them. Go.”

You watch as your brother falls, frantically picking himself back up as he runs down to where his radio is. You’re choking on your own breath, hyperventilating. Lucas’ screams deafen you, Steve’s pleas echo your own. It’s a grim, helpless situation.

Nancy and Robin have to know something. They’re the only option you have left. You can’t lose Max. You can’t fucking lose her. Not after everything. She’s too young. She’s too young. It should be you instead. 

“Take me,” you scream into the sky, voice cracking. The taste of blood fills your mouth. “Just-just take me! Leave her alone, I’m-I’m right here. Please.”

Steve’s grip on Max loosens slightly, he looks up at you, alarmed, but Dustin suddenly returns with an armful of cassettes and Max’s walkman. “Guys!”

He slides onto the ground, you quickly make room for him even though you have no idea why he’s brought all of Max’s music. “What-what are you doing?”

“What’s her favorite song?” Dustin demands, out of breath.

“Why?” Lucas doesn’t move.

“Robin said if she listens–” He stumbles over his words, his mind is all over the place. “It-it’s too much to explain now. What’s her favorite song?”

Dustin is screaming and in your blind fear, your mind can’t catch up. You can’t think of Max’s favorite song, you know everything about her. What her favorite color is, her favorite ice cream flavor, her deepest fear. And yet you don’t fucking know what her favorite song is.

“I–” You can’t breathe. You wrack your mind, you try to come up with something, anything. But you can’t. Steve and the others rustle through the cassettes, their voices overlap and everyone talks at once. 

“Lucas, which one is it?” Steve exclaims, flipping over the tapes in vain. “What's her favorite song?” 

Your mind goes back to winter. To when the cold burned your lungs and the snow quieted your fears. It was Christmas, Lucas had wanted you to check up on Max. He’d been worried about her. When you visited her, she’d had her walkman on, volume on the highest setting. 

You remember asking what she’d been listening to. It’d been an innocent question, then. Nothing more than a simple formality, a way to get Max to open up to you. Feel more calm around you. 

But now it could be what prevents you from losing Max forever.

“Kate Bush!” Screaming, you dig through the cassettes yourself. “Her favorite song is by Kate Bush.”

Lucas finds the only tape by her and he quickly removes it from its case. He screams at Steve to take it and hand it over to Dustin. They move in a blur, Dustin slides the headphones over Max’s ears and your finger presses play. 

Kate Bush’s voice erupts from the speakers. Max still doesn’t move, her eyes remain rolled back. But that’s it. The music is all you can do. 

Everyone shouts over the music, there isn’t anything else that can be done. Lucas holds her hand, he doesn’t let go of her. “Max, we’re right here!”

“Come back,” you cry, hands pressed against her face. “Sweetheart, Max–”

Her body begins to levitate. 

Your entire world collapses. 

“No!” You scream, vocal chords tearing. 

Your hands grasp at the air, you try to jump, you try to reach her. You try to do something, anything, to save her. Steve clutches you against him, holds you against his chest, scared you’ll hurt yourself. But you don’t care. Lucas screams behind you, Dustin cries for his friend. You throw yourself at Max, over and over again. 

But Max is just out of reach, dangerously high, and all you can do is watch. 

Her body constricts, her neck snaps back in a sickening manner. She starts to convulse, just how Billy did the night the Mind Flayer killed him. It’s happening again. All the air leaves your lungs. Max’s body dangles before you, taunts you.

Then, just as suddenly as it began, her body falls. You and Steve break her fall as she crumbles onto the grass, just barely managing to protect her head. “Max!”

She’s awake, gasping for air. Lucas cradles her body as she cries. She can’t speak, her hands clutch at any part of Lucas that she can reach. He pulls her close, his head rests against hers. He’s crying, too. “I thought we lost you.”

“I’m still-I’m still here,” Max chokes out. “I’m still here.”

“You’re never leaving.” You gasp out, holding her hand. She’s warm again. Her flesh doesn’t numb yours anymore. “I’m not-I’m not letting you leave us.”

Max cries, your promise heavy against her. You brush back her hair, your tears mix with hers. Steve’s arm wraps around you and Dustin’s head rests against your shoulder. You all hover over Max, almost as if instinctively shielding her.

She’s still here. 

The sun begins to set.

-

⌑ series masterlist

⌑ i am no longer doing a taglist, my apologies ! however, please feel free to like, reblog, and comment instead :)

[rosemarycovet]

Billy loomis x wallflower reader

(so I started reading ‘the perks of being a wallflower’ and got inspired to make a reader like charlie and i’m using a lot of quotes from the movie/book)

-billy knows you’re an awkward teen

-an outcast as well

-he wouldn’t necessarily call you a loner but you get what I mean

-he never really acknowledged you for that reason

-he just never really knew you existed

-until one day he was late to lunch and he saw you sitting alone at your own little table reading a book

-he had came up to you asking what you were reading

-you were surprised someone came up to you

-when you didn’t respond he raised his eyebrow slightly

-you quickly apologized

“sorry I just ..didn’t think anyone noticed me”

-he gave you a soft smile reassuring you it was ok

-from that day on he became your only real friend throughout high-school

-you guys would occasionally listen to the smiths together

-billy liked the idea that you liked to write so for Christmas he bought you a typewriter

-you would write to billy now and then on your type writer about almost anything mostly about your day starting off with ‘dear friend,’and ending it with ‘love always ,(y/n)’

-billy was fine with it and would actually read them each night because he knew that’s how you coped

-he liked that you observed and kept quiet/understood people

-because of that reason he knew that you would never judge him and would understand him

-billy loved seeing you smile it was pretty rare

-billy knew high-school wasn’t the easiest for you and that you were pretty used to being lonely

-if anyone gave you a hard time at school don’t be surprised if they get a call later that night from ghost face

-billy would also read your books to you when you are tired to pick them up your self

-billy would often take you on car rides as music blasted in his car because he knows how much you enjoy them

-before you and billy started dating he introduced you to his friend group at a party they were pretty nice

randy and you kinda hit it off as you saw billy and sidney walk off together you kinda knew randy had a thing for sidney and he had asked silently “why do nice people choose the wrong people to date?”as he referred to sidney “we accept the love we think we deserve..” you replied to him

-now for your mental health billy takes no joke to it

-he knows how bad it gets

-but before he knew how serious it was he had did something he regretted

billy got into an argument with his dad and walked into school pissed off. you had went up to him trying to tell him about a new song you think he liked when billy had randomly angrily said to you “not now (y/n) I really don’t care tell it to someone that does” you instantly got silent and apologized as you quickly walked away

a couple weeks later billy soon realized that you had been distance from him he was actually pretty concerned and confused it surprised him that he cared that much

billy then confronted you asking what was going on all you replied to him was “I didn’t want to be a bother to you anymore..”

from that day he promised you and himself that no matter what he would never leave your side or that you were a bother to him and he kept his promises surprisingly to you

-one time billy walked in on you with a worried look on his face as you repeated “stop crying..stop crying” to yourself

-billy was really only the person you vented to since you always kept your emotions bottled up

“what will you do if your parents ask?”

billy asked

“…if my parents ask me about it I probably won’t tell them the truth because I don’t want them to worry that I might …get bad again” billy knew that you didn’t want to put any worry onto your parents he hated that you thought you were a burden

-one night you called billy panicking

“(y/n/n) breathe.what’s wrong?”

“it’s been getting worse and I can’t turn it off this time..” all billy could hear was you having trouble breathing and you letting your feelings get the best of you saying that it was all your fault

when you hung up billy screamed your name panicking luckily he was already in his way and got to you before you did anything ‘stupid’

he had saved you that night

-you knew that billy would understand how you were both happy,and sad and how you’re still trying to figure out how that could be

-billy probably never had felt or experienced what you went through but he was the only person that truly understood you and how you felt

-billy had made you feel free not only that but he brought new experience to you

-he not only was your lover he was also your best friend and had saved you throughout high-school

[dee-writes-angst]

MY ENDLESS LOVE

FEATURING boyfriend!Steve Harrington x f!Mayfeild/Hargrove reader

CONTENT WARNING near death experience, sad stuff, angst, mentions of PTSD, crying steve

SUMMARY Vecna's curse enlightens you to the endless love you have for your boyfriend

AUTHORS NOTE this is shit. Like actual shit, but its kinda cute?

“Oh god!” I could hear Dustin's voice, distant but frantic, as he panted and screamed my name. His hands gripped my shoulders, shaking me desperately, trying to pull me back from the brink. But it was too late. Time had slipped through our fingers like sand. The enemy was going to win, and I was going to die.

I didn't want to die. Not now, not like this. I wanted to live—to see the future I had always imagined with him. I wanted to wake up every morning to his smile, to build a life together. I dreamed of us having a house filled with the laughter of our children, chaotic and joyful. I envisioned family vacations in a van bursting at the seams, every inch of space filled with love and noise. I saw myself in the throes of motherly frustration, tearing my hair out over spilled milk and sibling squabbles, but loving every moment of it.

More than anything, I wanted more time. More time to share lazy Sunday mornings wrapped in his arms. More time to explore the world together, discovering new places and creating memories. More time to argue over trivial things, only to make up and fall in love all over again. I wanted more time to love him, fully and completely. And I wanted more time for him to love me, to see us grow old together, weathering life's storms hand in hand.

But those weren't the cards I was dealt. Fate had other plans, and now, lying here with the weight of impending doom pressing down on me, I realized I needed to take you back to where it all began. You need to understand the journey that brought me to this moment. The choices, the sacrifices, the battles fought and lost. Let me take you back to the start, so you can truly grasp how I ended up here, on the edge of losing everything I held dear.

MARCH 17, 1986

“Babe!” I call from the kitchen, the pounding in my head so intense I can barely think. There's a rush of thumping footsteps from the floor above, and then, suddenly, my gorgeous boyfriend is standing in the doorway.

“Yeah?” Steve asks softly as he steps into the kitchen, walking toward me until he’s close enough to wrap me in his calming embrace.

“Do you have any Tylenol?” I sigh, allowing myself to melt into his embrace. His touch eases some of the tension in my throbbing skull, but the ache remains intense, bringing tears to my eyes.

“Yeah, I’ll get it. Are you okay?” Steve sounds worried as he runs his fingers gently through my hair.

“Just a headache, no big deal.” I smile and pull away from his arms. Steve's face scrunches in uncertainty, confused by my sudden distance. I quickly grab the two small pills from his outstretched hand and toss them back, dry-swallowing them. “I’ve got work in ten, so I’m outta here. I’ll see you later tonight.” I lie, pressing a quick peck on his lips before leaving the house.

As I start the car, I let out a long sigh. I hate lying to Steve, but ever since Billy, I can't help but blame myself. If I hadn’t been such a coward, my twin brother would still be here. Instead of rushing to his aid, I grabbed Max and watched as that thing took him away from us. The guilt gnaws at me, an ever-present shadow.

I drive through Hawkins, the small town seemingly unchanged despite the chaos that has unraveled my life. The familiar streets and quaint houses pass by in a blur as memories flood my mind—Billy and I racing our bikes, sneaking out late at night, sharing secrets and dreams. Now, all those memories are tainted by the haunting image of his final moments.

Pulling up to my trailer, I stagger into the tiny home, only to be jolted from my reverie by the blaring ringtone of the landline. I groan, rubbing my temples in a futile attempt to soothe the ache, and answer the phone.

“Hello ma’am, this is the Hawkins High School counselor calling.” A woman's voice informs me, and I inwardly sigh. Max.

“Hi,” I respond flatly, my head throbbing as I yearn to get to the woods and meet my dealer.

“Is this Ms. Mayfield-Hargrove? I have you listed as Max Mayfield’s primary caregiver.” Ah, yes. After Billy's death, my birth father (Max’s stepdad) left Hawkins, leaving Max’s mom to care for her. When Susan spiraled into alcoholism, unable to cope with her stepson's death, I took Max in, went to court, and gained custody. She moved in with me and Steve. Max completely shut down after Billy's death, and communication with her became impossible until the school called, asking for permission to check in on her weekly after her "tragic loss." Allowing them to talk to her seemed like the best way to keep an eye on her without invading her space. So, I agreed. Now, I get monthly check-ins from the school, providing a small measure of comfort despite her distance from me. At least she’s communicating with someone.

“Yes, this is she. Who are you?” I ask, noting that this woman doesn’t sound like the usual bored office ladies.

“Oh! My name is Ms. Kelly. I've been counseling Max.” Oh god, the counselor herself is reaching out to me. This can't be good.

“What’s up? Is Max okay?”

“Well, that’s the issue. When I called her into my office yesterday, I managed to drag some information out of her. Apparently, she has been experiencing headaches and nosebleeds. I think her trauma is starting to physically affect her, which is quite worrisome.” Funny, I’ve been experiencing the same symptoms. I wonder if Max has been having nightmares too.

“Alright, what can I do to help?” I ask, though I wonder if there’s anything I can truly do. Maybe she’s blaming herself for Billy’s death like I am. But it wasn’t her fault—there was no way she could have freed herself from the iron grip I had on her. As Ms. Kelly drones on with suggestions, my mind begins to wander into a dark place where Billy’s voice whispers in my ear.

“What’s wrong? Feeling guilty for having a part in my murder? Well,” Billy tsks, his voice as sharp and cold as I remember it. “We can’t have that now, can we? Own it. You didn’t try to save me. Not even after I called for you. No, you just sat there and held our stepsister. You are a sick, sick woman, sis.” He spits his nickname for me, sending chills cascading down my spine.

“No!” I scream, suddenly finding myself in the woods instead of the kitchen. How the hell did I get here? I take a seat on the picnic table where I usually wait for Eddie to show up, holding my head in my hands.

The familiar sounds of the forest surround me, birds chirping and leaves rustling in the gentle breeze. The cool air helps to clear my head a bit, but the sense of unease remains. Eddie is late, which isn’t unusual, but today it grates on my nerves more than usual. I need my fix to numb the pain and drown out Billy's voice.

As I sit there, waiting, my thoughts drift back to Max. She’s been through so much, and I feel like I’ve failed her too. After Billy's death, she shut down completely, her once vibrant spirit now cloaked in a heavy shroud of grief. I try to be there for her, but she’s closed off, retreating into herself. The school counselor's calls are my only lifeline to understanding what she’s going through.

The sun begins to set, casting long shadows through the trees. I pull my jacket tighter around myself, shivering more from the memories than the cold. I remember the last time I saw Billy alive, the terror in his eyes, and the helplessness I felt. It’s a memory that haunts me day and night, a constant reminder of my failure.

Finally, I hear the sound of a motorcycle approaching. Eddie pulls up, his usual carefree demeanor replaced by a concerned frown when he sees me.

“Hey, you okay?” he asks, dismounting and walking over to me.

“Yeah, just a rough day,” I reply, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

Eddie hands me a small bag, and I quickly tuck it into my pocket. “If you ever need to talk, you know where to find me,” he says, his tone uncharacteristically serious.

“Thanks, Eddie. I appreciate it.” I manage a small smile, though it doesn’t reach my eyes.

As he rides away, I sit there for a while longer, trying to gather the strength to face the rest of the day. I think about Steve and how worried he must be, how much I hate lying to him. I think about Max and how desperately I want to help her, even if I don’t know how.

Eventually, I stand up, brushing the dirt off my jeans. I start walking back to my car, each step feeling heavier than the last. The night is falling, and the woods are growing darker, but the real darkness is inside me, a gnawing emptiness that I can’t seem to fill.

As I drive back home, the radio plays softly in the background, but I barely hear it. My mind is consumed with thoughts of Billy, Max, and Steve. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to move past this guilt, if I’ll ever be able to forgive myself.

When I finally pull into the driveway, I sit in the car for a few moments, taking deep breaths to steady myself. I need to put on a brave face for Steve, to pretend that everything is okay even when it’s not. I walk into the house, greeted by the warm light and the comforting smell of dinner cooking.

Steve looks up from the stove, his expression lighting up when he sees me. “Hey, you’re back! How was work?”

“It was fine,” I lie, forcing a smile. “What’s for dinner?”

MARCH 21, 1986

The revelation hit me like a brick last night: Eddie Munson, my oddball dealer with a heart of gold, tangled up in murder rumors. It seems absurd, the kind of gossip that churns through Hawkins with the regularity of a bad sitcom rerun. But there it was, whispered in hushed tones at the edge of the night, coloring every interaction with a shade of doubt.

Now, as I navigate through my day, there's a tight coil of anxiety buried deep in my chest. Not just about Eddie—whose eccentric charm and relentless heavy metal advocacy hardly paint the picture of a killer—but about my secret dealings with him. I'm wrapped up in this now, whether I like it or not.

Inside the car, the atmosphere is a mixture of teenage angst and my own growing irritation. Dustin, ever the energetic spirit, manages to kick the back of my seat one too many times, snapping the thin thread of my patience.

“Henderson! I swear to God if you kick my seat one more time I’m throwing you on the side of the road and you can walk to Family Video!” The words fly out sharper than intended, mirroring the pounding in my skull.

“Sorry! Geez, someone has a stick up their butt today,” he mutters, a touch defensively, earning a light smack on the back of his head. I’m not usually this snappy, but with Eddie missing and my stash dwindling, my usual buffers against stress are paper-thin.

We arrive at Family Video, and I park the car with a bit more force than necessary. Dustin’s voice breaks through my fog of discomfort.

“Hey, are you alright?” He's looking at me with those wide, innocent eyes full of concern. It’s enough to soften the edges of my mood, at least momentarily.

“Of course, dork. Let’s go see your boyfriend,” I tease, masking my turmoil with a forced chuckle as we head into the store.

“He’s not mine, that is all your business over there,” Dustin shoots back with a grin, lightening the mood as we walk through the door.

Steve, behind the counter and as oblivious as ever to the undercurrents of tension, greets us with a smile. Our banter flies over his head, leaving him puzzled but amused. "Huh?"

“Oh no! I don’t claim him, that is all you Henderson,” I laugh, trying to immerse myself in the normalcy of our jests. But then, the familiar warmth trickles down my nostril, pulling me back to a harsher reality.

“Babe, your nose is bleeding!” Steve’s concern is immediate as he rushes over, his hands reaching out to steady me.

I wave him off, more embarrassed than reassured, and head to the bathroom. Inside, I press a wad of tissue against my nose, staring at my reflection with a mix of frustration and fear. The stress of keeping my dealings with Eddie a secret, compounded by the physical symptoms that seem to mirror Max’s own troubling signs, is becoming too much.

The cool, flickering fluorescent light in the bathroom casts stark shadows across my face, deepening the hollows under my eyes and highlighting the fatigue that no amount of makeup can cover. As the bleeding slowly stops, I lean against the sink, taking deep, steadying breaths.

I can’t tell Steve about Eddie—not just because of the drugs, but because dragging him into this mess could put him at risk too. Hawkins, for all its sleepy town charm, has a darkness that clings stubbornly to the edges of everyday life, and I can't shake the feeling that this is all spiraling towards something bad.

Stepping out of the bathroom, I plaster on a smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes. Steve is there, his expression a mix of concern and love, ready to envelop me in his arms.

“Let’s get what we came for and head home,” I suggest, trying to sound more upbeat than I feel.

As we browse the aisles, Dustin chattering away about the latest horror flick he wants to rent, I can't help but feel the weight of all the secrets I'm carrying. Every laugh, every light moment feels overshadowed by the nagging thought of Eddie, the rumors, and the very real problems lurking just beneath the surface of our little town.

The day drags on, each moment tinged with the dull ache of my headache and the sharper sting of guilt. As much as I want to confide in Steve, to share the burden, I know I have to keep these shadows to myself, at least for now.

MARCH 23, 1986

The air in the small office room felt heavy with anticipation as Max beckoned me inside. I couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that had settled in the pit of my stomach, but I followed her lead, my senses on high alert.

“What's up? Did you find something?” My voice was strained with worry as I approached her, scanning the room for any signs of danger.

“Look.” Max's tone was grave as she motioned toward the files spread out on the desk before her. Each one told a chilling story: Chrissy Cunningham, Fred Benson, and Maxine Mayfield—three students with eerily similar symptoms: post-traumatic stress, headaches, nosebleeds, nightmares. A shiver ran down my spine as the pieces began to fall into place.

“Chrissy and Fred were both killed by Vecna. I think these are the warning signs that he is targeting them,” Max explained, her voice low with concern.

“Max,” I said, my voice trembling despite my efforts to remain composed, “I want you to bring Dustin in here. Do not let Steve come with you. I mean it.” The urgency in my tone was palpable, fueled by the fear of what might happen if Steve were to find out.

Max hesitated, sensing the gravity of the situation, but she nodded and left the room. Moments later, she returned with Dustin in tow, a look of urgency etched on her face.

“Okay, we don’t have long because Steve is kinda freaking out,” she said, pulling Dustin into the room with her.

“I am going to tell you two something, and you aren’t going to breathe a word of it to Steve. Do you understand?” I met their eyes, my own filled with a mixture of fear and determination.

Two solemn nods were all the confirmation I needed before I confessed, “I have Vecna’s curse.”

The room fell silent, the weight of my revelation hanging in the air like a thick fog.

“You have what?!” Steve's voice echoed from the entryway, shock and disbelief evident in his tone.

“Oh shit,” Max whispered, her complexion draining of color.

“I’m sorry, but he wouldn’t let me go without following behind,” Dustin winced, bracing himself for my reaction.

“I can’t fucking believe you right now!” I exclaimed, my frustration and fear bubbling to the surface as I turned my glare from Dustin to Steve. “There is a reason I didn’t want you to know, Steve! You can’t just bully a child into letting you eavesdrop! Where is your trust in me? In our relationship?!”

“That is not what this is about and you fucking know that! You were just going to let yourself be killed and not say anything?” Steve's voice cracked with emotion, his eyes glistening not with anger but with hurt.

“I didn’t want our last days spent under this dark cloud,” I sighed, the fight draining from me.

“Well, you aren’t going to die. Neither of you are because we are going to figure out a way to save you,” Steve declared, his voice filled with fierce determination.

“Steve,” I managed through my tears, the reality of my situation washing over me in waves, “you can’t fix this.”

“Yes! Yes, I can,” he insisted, stepping close to wipe away my tears with the gentlest touch, his voice firm yet breaking. “You can’t die. I won’t let you.”

In that moment, surrounded by the stark walls of the school office and bathed in the harsh fluorescent light, the intensity of our predicament settled in. His promise, so full of resolve, felt both comforting and heartbreakingly futile.

MARCH 24, 1986

"What are they doing?" Dustin's voice cuts through the tense atmosphere, his gaze bouncing between Max and me, then back to Steve and Lucas. Their eyes are fixed on us with a mix of concern and anticipation, as if they're waiting for something monumental to happen.

Max finishes sealing the last envelope, her hands trembling slightly, a testament to the gravity of our situation. "You done?" she asks me, her voice steady despite the underlying tension.

"Yeah," I reply softly, adding my final letter to the stack. "Good idea, by the way," I offer, trying to break the heavy silence. But Max remains silent, her eyes distant as she hands out the envelopes to the boys. I follow her lead, passing one to Dustin and another to Lucas. Steve watches, confusion evident on his face, realizing there's no letter for him.

Before anyone can react, Max intervenes, stopping the boys from opening the envelopes. "Don't!" she insists firmly, her tone brooking no argument.

"They're for after… you know," I explain, attempting to ease the tension, though I'm not sure if it's for their benefit or ours.

"You're not dying," Steve declares with fierce conviction, his eyes locking onto mine. "Nancy and Robin are going to find something, a solution. You both are going to be fine."

"We know. It's just a failsafe," Max reassures him, though her voice betrays her uncertainty. I share her doubt; the letters are more a precaution than a solution.

Max interrupts any further protests by announcing, "I need a ride to the cemetery," and without waiting for Steve's response, she grabs her jacket and heads for the door.

Despite Steve's objections and Max's stubbornness, we all end up piling into the car and making our way to the cemetery. Once there, Max and I step out, leaving the boys behind. As we walk towards our destination, I hear Lucas calling out to Max, but I keep moving forward.

"I'll talk to him first," I tell Max, giving her a reassuring smile before parting ways. I slip a letter into her pocket before heading to Billy's grave, my heart heavy with the weight of what's to come.

Settling down in front of Billy's headstone, I take a deep breath and open the letter, my hand trembling as I begin to read aloud.

"Dear Billy, I was a coward, and you died because of it. It's my fault, and I should have tried harder. I think it was because I was scared, or maybe I thought you deserved it. Some sick sort of karma after all the abuse I had to endure after mom died. I’m sorry. You deserved better, and I should have tried harder. Now, I am getting the karma I deserve. Basically, what I’m trying to say is see you soon, little brother. I love you."

Tears blur my vision as I pour out my heart to him, my voice breaking with each word. Then, just as I finish, everything goes dark—a chilling prelude to Vecna's twisted vision.

In the darkness, I hear Billy's voice, taunting and accusing. His words cut through me like knives, reopening wounds I thought had healed.

"You're sorry, huh?" His laughter echoes in the void, haunting and cruel. "I don't think you are. You know what I think? I think you're grateful, glad that I'm dead."

"No!" I cry out, my voice raw with emotion as I try to defend myself, but he's relentless.

"You enjoyed it, didn’t you? You are one sick bitch," he sneers, his words laced with venom. I'm paralyzed, unable to escape the torment of his accusations.

"I loved you!" I plead, desperate to make him understand, but he refuses to listen.

"No, you didn’t! You never did!" His voice echoes in the darkness, a constant reminder of my failures.

And then, just as I think it can't get any worse, I witness the horror unfold before me once again—the fleshy tentacle piercing Billy, the grotesque manifestation of Vecna's power.

"Y/N, it’s time," Vecna's voice cuts through the darkness, his presence looming over me like a suffocating shadow. I'm trapped, helpless to resist as he reaches out with his twisted, clawed hand.

"Oh god!" Dustin's voice sounds distant, barely audible amidst the chaos of my mind. I want to reach out to him, to cry out for help, but it's too late. Vecna is closing in, and I'm powerless to stop him.

"Baby! Please, no! Come back to me, I can’t!" Steve's desperate cries pierce through the darkness, pulling at something deep within me. It's the sound of his voice, filled with love and desperation, that gives me the strength to fight back.

"My love," Steve whispers through tears, his voice trembling with emotion as he begins to sing "Endless Love," our song, our promise.

"My first love," Max joins in, her voice tinged with sorrow and regret. Then, one by one, Lucas and Dustin add their voices to the chorus, their song wrapping around me like a lifeline.

With every note, every word, I feel a flicker of hope ignite within me—a spark of defiance against Vecna's darkness. And as their voices fill the air, I find the strength to break free from his grip, to run towards the light, towards Steve.

As I reach him, battered and broken but alive, I collapse into his arms, his embrace a sanctuary amidst the chaos. "I love you," I whisper, clinging to him as if my life depends on it.

"Don’t ever fucking do that to me again. I can’t lose you, baby," Steve sobs, his voice breaking with the weight of his emotions.

"I won’t, I promise," I vow, my heart overflowing with love for him, for us.

"I love you," he murmurs, holding me close.

"And I you, my endless love."

[marley-manson]

One of the show’s biggest flaws is excusing the army volunteers and its general ‘some army good’ messaging, and as a consequence Hawkeye’s biggest flaw, accidentally, is caring about his friends too much.

Like, totally reading against the text here, this is presumably not meant to be a problem, but it’s one of those once you see it you can’t unsee it things. And to be fair it’s backed up by Bless You Hawkeye lol, it just wasn’t intended to be applied this way. It’s also totally in line with the rest of Hawkeye’s character, and it’s my favourite type of flaw, ie the negative flipside of a virtue, so yk I’m biased towards seeing it.

Hawkeye making friends with Margaret and never calling her out on her politics again (again, not intended, reflective of the narrative, but incidentally fitting for Hawkeye), Hawkeye making friends with career man Potter and softening his anti-army stance, affirming he does respect Potter and reigning in his protests (eg the end of A Night at Rosie’s) and conceding to him philosophically (eg the end of Your Retention Please), Hawkeye supporting Mulcahy’s promotion endeavours and saluting him, Hawkeye warming up to Charles not when Charles’ politics shift (which doesn’t happen) but when Charles supports him emotionally...

Even early on you can make a case for Hawkeye having blindspots where people he likes are concerned - mainly because the politics of the show are wishy washy and vary from era to era and episode to episode and joke to joke, but yk, the point of this is to incorporate the flaws of the show organically into Hawkeye’s character. So you can point to indications of hypocrisy like, say, Hawkeye condemning western cultural influence in Korea in various jokes and statements on one hand and supporting Catholic orphanages on the other hand.

But like I said, this is perfectly in character for Hawkeye, which is why I think it works as a reading for me. I don’t like to take flaws of a show and and use them to interpret a character in a way that feels unintended or contradicts other characterization. But Hawkeye likes people, and he always tries to see the good in them as much as possible, and he has a textual history of downplaying the harm people do in favour of the good things, specifically because he loves them. 

And I think that “love” is the operative word here. It’s not because Hawkeye is weak-willed or has low self esteem or thinks anyone else knows better than he does or thinks he doesn’t have the right to challenge others’ opinions or anything like that. Love is the core of Hawkeye’s character.

Hawkeye forgets Billy pushing him into the water and only remembers him saving him because he loves him. Hawkeye forgives BJ for punching him the instant he apologizes and then lets him cry on his shoulder because he loves him, and empathizes. And if love is sometimes too strong a word, well, Hawkeye also just likes people. He views people optimistically, and always tries to see the good - the cavalier bomber in Dear Sigmund who he disillusions surprisingly gently imo because Hawkeye says he seems like a good guy; the general he has a drink with in Say No More before realizing he hasn’t changed his attitude despite his son’s death; the way that even early on he supports Margaret at times, and sometimes even tries to make nice with Frank...

And it just makes sense to me to take that same logic and follow through with other characters and similar situations. Colonel Potter is a career army man who essentially acts as the warden of a prison as far as Hawkeye’s draftee status ought to be concerned but he’s loveable and therefore Hawkeye loves him. By drafting him the army essentially drove him insane, and Hawkeye’s last gesture to Potter is to salute him.

Margaret is racist, isn’t challenged for it and never has an episode where she realizes she’s wrong in her us vs them worldview, is also career army, and has tried to have Hawkeye and his friends court martialed multiple times (and would’ve gotten Henry executed incidentally if her plan had succeeded in The Trial of Henry Blake) and it’s all forgotten about - yes, mainly by the narrative, but also consequently by Hawkeye, watsonianly.

It creates a very interesting tension when you take these things watsonianly instead of dismissing them like the narrative does, and I’m really into it lol.

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Max's Letter to Steve and Nancy

Dear Steve,

If you tell anyone what I said in this letter, I'll haunt you, and I'll haunt a good lawyer into suing you. . . You've always been like the brother I wish I had, the kind of brother that I wish Billy had been. Me and you, we're kind of the same. . .two cats who pretend like they don't like the affection they're given. It's because we're not used to it. But you deserve to be loved, Steve.

I know Nancy hurt you, Steve. Dustin kind of spilled the beans on that one. He means well, just like Nancy never meant to hurt you. I know what it's like, though, to blame yourself for someone's death. In a way, it's a form of self-preservation. She ran away to protect herself and you as well. So, she ran away to something that she knew wasn't permanent. The scariest thing in this world is something that lasts forever. Maybe like me, she got scared of that too. When I thought about my future, all I could see was Lucas at the end of the tunnel, and that scared the shit out of me. After Billy, I felt like a black hole, and I was afraid of sucking him in. We're different, I know, but there's something about us that's the same too. You and Lucas are different, but you have the same loving heart. . .patient and kind. Maybe I'm just being hopeful on my end. Maybe I'm misreading it. Or maybe without even knowing it, you've been waiting for Nancy to see you like Lucas has been waiting for me. The question is, who do you see at the end of the tunnel? Who do you see in your vision of the future? Life is short, especially in our line of work. Don't wait too long to figure it out.

Love,

Max.

Dear Nancy,

I know we haven't spent much time together, but if I survive this, maybe we can rectify that. Mike's lucky to have such a badass older sister. I wish I was that lucky. I don't know if I have any right to say this, but since I'm probably going to die, maybe it doesn't really matter. I honestly don't know what really happened, only what I heard from Lucas and from what Mike read in your diary. You didn't hear that from me. I did slap him for that one, so you're welcome, I guess. I don't know if anyone's ever told you, but. . .what happened to Barb wasn't your fault.

We're all responsible for the choices we make. Dr. Brenner chose to play God, and his actions caused the death of everyone involved. Barb's death, Billy's death, that's on him. Doing what you did, it was your choice, and it wasn't wrong to make a choice that makes you happy. It didn't cause Barb's death. I still feel guilty about Billy dying because when he was hurting me to the point where I would cry at night and wishing so badly that he would be a brother like Steve turned out to be, I also wished for it to stop. For anything to happen, and I suppose that's why I feel guilty because a part of me did want him to die. I felt like I made it happen in some way, and I felt like I was just vile as he was. And then I realized it wasn't my choice for him to be that way and that the only time I ever wanted to hurt him was to stop him from hurting others. . .from killing Steve. He would have. Billy chose not to be the big brother I needed, and I wish that it hadn't taken his death for him to realize it. I wish he could make it up to me now. I think a part of me will always feel guilty, but I'm also scared that it's what's going to stop me from living my life. I didn't kill Billy. You didn't kill Barb. Dr. Brenner is responsible. You're nothing like Billy or Brenner. You strive so hard to help people, actually help them. You care. It's just that trauma can shut you down, closes you off, and all you want to do is to run away.

The best thing about Steve is that a part of him knows that you didn't mean any of what you said to him. Whether he realizes it or not, I think a part of him is still waiting for you to heal and to see that he's always been there. When he looks at you, he looks at you the way that Lucas looks at me, and I know how scary it is. When I look at my future, I see Lucas, whose unwavering loyalty shines bright in this stupid darkness. Steve is loyal to you, too. Whether he realizes it, his love for you is what guided him down the path to making his own choices, and it led him to caring about us. It woke up the part of himself that he turned off when he realized his parents were never going to give a shit. It wasn't gone, just locked away. You were the key. . .okay, holy shit, this is some sappy shit. Maybe you should just ignore the ramblings of dying girl. Think about your future and who you picture at the end. What do you see? Life is short, especially in this town. Whenever I look at you and Steve, I see a story that's not finished yet, and maybe I'm projecting my own relationship with Lucas onto you two. Just give it some thought, and you can totally burn this letter. You and Steve are the most badass older siblings who I can see myself being closest to. I just want everyone to be happy. Anyway. . . I don't want to be a ghost anymore.

Love,

Max

[writer-in-theory]

All This and Heaven Too — harringrove.

Summary: When Billy is forced into a contract with the devil after becoming a Victor of the Hunger Games, Steve is there, always. Prompt: C3 - Star-Crossed Lovers // C2 - Hidden Injuries Pairing: Steve Harrington/Billy Hargrove Rating: Mature (due to content matter) Word Count: 6.2k Content Warnings: Mild Language, Implied Forced/Coerced Prostitution, Implied Rape/Noncon, Somewhat Ambiguous Ending Read On AO3: Here A/N: This is another fill for @billyhargrovebingo and @harringroveson-bingo !! This is my final fill on my Harringroveson Bingo card, and I have to say I have had an absolutely wonderful time participating in this event. As for this fic, it references plot points from Catching Fire so it may be helpful to be aware of the general plot of it (particularly for why those content warnings are there) but otherwise can be understood without having read The Hunger Games.

Harringroveson Bingo Masterlist // Billy Hargrove Bingo Masterlist

The lights on the stage were bright, heating up Billy’s face until he was sure Steve’s hard work on his makeup was ruined. The feel of the sun warming his skin was a comfort, but this artificial light now only tensed his shoulders and put him on edge like he was still in the arena. He ached to be back home, to sit on the beach under natural heat and disappear from the public’s eyes. 

“Billy Hargrove,” Caesar crooned, dramatically sweeping his hands out in a large show of himself. The man was decked out in all blue, from hair to shoes, in celebration of the District Four win. It was gaudy and awful, making Billy ache to be home by the sea. On any normal year, he and Max would have sat on the couch making fun of the grotesque outfit. “Did you ever expect to find yourself here, in the Victor’s chair?”

Yes, he did, because like hell he’d die in the arena so far from the ocean, from his home. He refused to return home in a cheap wooden box to be given ceremonial rights by the entire district, another martyr sacrificed and mourned. After eighteen years of fearing the very slip of paper that had been pulled that year, Billy couldn’t imagine going out without proving to everyone, to himself, that he was more of a force than anyone could have predicted.

“No, Caesar,” Billy chuckled, pulling on the charming smile he’d practiced with his mentor team. Put on a show, and give the people what they want no matter how much bile was summoned to his throat by the sickly sweet warmth. “It’s what I’d hoped for, of course, but I have to thank all of the people from the Capitol who sponsored me. I couldn’t have done it without their generosity.”

The wink Billy sent the crowd shot a wave of nausea through his stomach, rising up in his throat and stopping his improv-ed speech. Give them a show, but at what cost? Was this what he was expected to be each time a camera was forced into his face? When would the games be over?

“Did you know, Billy, that you raised the most money out of any tribute in any Games? That’s remarkable! You should be proud, my dear boy!”

“Oh, I couldn’t ask for anything better. It’s a dream come true, honestly.”

The roaring crowd felt a little more like a death sentence than a celebration.

“Oh, Billy, c’mere,” Steve spoke the second he opened his door. The man standing in front of him looked like a ghost—tanned face as pale as he’d ever seen it, lips pressed flat and blue eyes staring unseeingly over Steve’s shoulder. “Come here, Bee, I’ve got you.”

The moment Steve got his arms around Billy it was like his puppet strings had been cut, the man falling forward into the embrace. He tucked his face close into Steve’s neck, holding onto the back of his shirt like a lifeline. He didn’t cry—he hadn’t in years, ever since the first few nights—but he did sniff harshly against Steve’s skin like he was physically fighting back the surge of emotions. 

They fell into a familiar routine then, one designed through trial and error, and far too many nights spent recovering like this. Steve coaxed Billy into the large bathroom connected to his bedroom, carefully stripping away the clothes that Billy had to wear for his ‘appointment’, as President Snow had insisted he calls them. Steve had prepared a bath just before Billy had arrived, still as hot and full of bubbles as the man liked it. These baths were a luxury the man hadn’t experienced until coming to the Capitol, where he was allowed to indulge in the life he and his district mates bled for. 

Steve helped Billy into the tub, sitting on a small chair behind him so he could carefully and gently wash Billy’s hair. Steve took his time, massaging the man’s scalp and brushing soap through each lock of hair. He could see the moment Billy relaxed—knees slipping down away from his chest and head leaning back against the edge of the tub. His eyes remained closed for a while and neither of them spoke, leaving Steve to fill the air with the soft humming of a song his mother used to sing to him at bedtime. He’d long since forgotten the words, only clinging to the feeling of comfort the tune brought.

“We could do it, you know.” Billy’s voice was rough and low, yet still echoed off of the high ceilings of the luxurious bathroom.

It was dangerous, speaking so plainly here. Steve’s hands paused in Billy’s hair, slipping down to rest on either shoulder. His thumbs rubbed gentle circles into the skin there as Steve considered the words carefully.

“Have you ever thought about running away?” a much younger Steve asked from the rooftop of the Tributes Center, arms bracing his body against the railing. 

“No,” Billy answered quickly, sternly. 

“They can’t hear us up here. It’s too windy to put cameras or microphones.” It was impossible to miss the sudden relaxation of Billy’s shoulders at the realization that Steve had considered this, that it wasn’t all some elaborate trap. “It’s the one place we can be real.”

“I’ve never thought about running,” Billy insisted, looking to the side so he could watch Steve’s profile. “I’d consider running with you, though.”

“If that’s what you wanted,” Steve told him once he sparked back to the present, hoping their words were vague enough. It would be silly to think they weren’t being watched at every moment, that nothing was getting back to Snow about the youngest Stylist in the history of the Games and one of the most beloved Victors to date. “If you wanted, we could. I would.”

“You really would?” Billy turned in the tub then so he could look at Steve, leaning up and pressing his hands to Steve’s knees, not caring about the way it soaked his pants. “Even with...everything?”

They’d talked about it before. The wealth, the fame, and the apartment that was more extravagant than anything that existed in Billy’s home District. The life of luxury he’d been born into that Billy had never even had the option to have.

“Without a single second thought,” Steve promised, “I’m going where you’re going, Bee.”

Billy nodded once, relaxing into his new position. He crossed his arms over Steve’s lap, letting his head rest sideways on them so Steve could still run his fingers through blond curls. They stayed like that until the water grew cold, neither of them speaking but never really needing to. It was simply enough to have this time together, even when they knew it wouldn’t last. There would always be a sunrise, and they would always have to get out of bed and pretend they weren’t so close. Steve would have to give bright, praising interviews for Games that made him sick to his stomach, and Billy would continue to do the unthinkable if only to protect his sister.

They would always have nights like these, though. The rest of the world would fall away and they weren’t in the Capitol, they weren’t anything more than Steve Harrington and Billy Hargrove, two people who loved each other more than they’d ever loved anyone before.

Steve held onto Billy all night, hoping his gentle fingers might erase every harsh grip his body had been forced to endure.

“Hey, good to finally meet you,” Steve spoke the second he entered the room, hands wringing themselves together to keep from messing with his hair habitually. He didn’t dare look at the tribute until he sat in the soft velvet chair waiting for him—blue, because the designers of the building assumed everything on the District 4 floor ought to be ocean-colored. “I’m Steve Harrington, I’ll be your Stylist for the Games.”

“You,” the tribute clarified, pure amusement in his voice. “That’s a good one, pretty boy. You getting school credit for this?”

“I’m 18, asshole,” Steve snapped immediately. This was the attitude he’d dealt with ever since being chosen for the job—the youngest to ever receive the honor. He was aware that all eyes were on him now, either wishing for him to fail or waiting with anticipation to see what the new generation of designers could bring to the annual honored Games. Steve let his eyes lift from his design book to get his first look at the tribute he’d be working for.

Blue. Blue was all Steve saw, so deep he thought he might drown in it. With curls the color of the sand and freckles splashed across his cheeks as evidence of time spent under the sun, Steve is sure this man was the personification of the beach. 

The tribute also looked smug, like he’d won some secret competition with Steve. “What? Become an Avox over there, pretty boy?”

“My name is Steve,” he insisted, forcing himself to look down at his sketchbook the moment he felt his cheeks heat up. “This is my first year styling for the Games but I am not inexperienced. If you were smart, you’d listen to me.”

“That so?” Billy leaned forward in his chair, smirk turning feral enough that it nearly took Steve’s breath away. His brain sparked with the idea to run, to edge away from this man that looked ready to fight. “I don’t make it a habit to listen to people who call me an asshole.”

“And I don’t make it a habit to save the ass of pompous pricks, but maybe we can both try something new,” Steve snapped before he leaned back in his chair, head tilted back long enough that he could close his eyes and compose himself. No one had ever managed to irritate him as quickly as this tribute did. If they couldn’t figure themselves out, Steve was in for a long few weeks trying to make this man appear charming enough to the Capitol. 

It was only once he felt his heart rate coming down that Steve refocused on Billy. “Listen, we don’t have to like each other. But I want to be the youngest Stylist on a Victor team and you want to not die in a month, so I suggest we work together.”

“Not if you’ll dress me up like a fuckin’ fish,” Billy answered, pure annoyance gathered around every word.

Steve winced at the callback to the Stylist who came before him—an aging man who’d reused the same design year after year with only a few slight color modifications. It was overdone and tacky, doing nothing other than to make District 4 and their tributes look like laughingstocks. 

“I’d rather step into the arena myself than have that mess represent my work,” Steve said bitterly, drawing a shocked burst of laughter from Billy. “No, I have a better idea. And seeing you...it’s perfect.”

Billy raised a brow, shoulders relaxing some after a few sentences of less painful conversation. “Like something you see?”

“You’re terrible,” Steve hissed without the same anger from before. “I was sketching out ideas based on some of the ancient stories that came out of District 4. I’m sure you’re familiar with the God called Triton?”

Something in what Steve said both shocked and softened Billy. He watched the process unfold in front of him—first complete astonishment waking up Billy’s face and then something near fondness settling in on his once harsh features.

“You read the stories?” Billy asked.

“I...yes?” Steve questioned, tilting his head to the side as if that might help figure out the situation. “How am I supposed to represent a District if I don’t know your history?”

“Right,” Billy breathed, shaking his head with wide eyes as if the very thought alone was something perfectly unbelievable. “Let’s get to work then.”

Something was wrong.

Billy didn’t show up after his ‘appointment’. After the first time, barely a year after his victory, when Billy showed up crying, crumpling into Steve’s arms talking about duty, responsibility, and protecting Max, it was all to protect Max, he had shown up every night it happened. 

Steve knew the days the Victor was expected to be in the Capitol—it was impossible to miss the buzzing from men and women alike who all wanted a glimpse of the most successful, most popular Victor to date. None of them knew that it didn’t matter how many looks they stole, how many brief touches and paid-for nights they got, it was Steve that Billy would always return home to at the end of the day.

Until this time, when Steve was left sitting in his entryway waiting by a closed door. 

Steve didn’t sleep that night.

Something was wrong.

“How are you feeling?”

It was cold, on the rooftop of the Tribute Center. Still, it was their place, carved out of a dangerous world only meant to harm, a sanctuary they could find peace for a fleeting moment. Billy was still in his interview outfit, all blues meant to pull out the color of his eyes and remind the people of his warmth. He was stood just at the walled railing, bent forward onto his arms resting against the top of the half-wall. The man had pulled his hair down out of the perfectly styled bun Steve had created, leaving golden curls blowing around his shoulders in the wind. He looked perfectly God-like, more reminiscent of Triton than he had been in costume.

Billy shrugged at the question, not taking his eyes off the lights of the Capitol. No one would sleep on a night like this—Steve could remember every all-nighter on Hunger Games Eve, everyone drinking and celebrating, placing bets on who would be a part of the Bloodbath and who would make it out of the first day set up well to win. He could hear the beginnings of said celebrations down below, practically on another planet from how distanced Steve felt from it now. 

There wasn’t much to celebrate, tonight.

“Feelin’ fine,” Billy answered simply.

“Really?” Steve stepped forward next to him, close enough their shoulders were barely brushing. “It’s okay if you’re not. I couldn’t imagine what you’re feeling now, stepping into...this.”

“I know you can’t.” It was said so simply, so matter-of-factly it made Steve wince. There was nothing factually incorrect, nothing particularly cruel or disparaging, just the simple acknowledgment that Steve truly would never understand what Billy was facing, what he would be forced to do in less than 24 hours.

“I’m sorry.”

Billy scoffed then, as though a mere apology were the thing that could make him angry. “What the hell’re you sorry for?”

When Steve didn’t answer right away, he finally turned to face him. His blue eyes were alight with more than just the moon’s reflection, something more powerful lingering underneath. “What. Are you. Sorry for?”

“I—” Steve chuckled with only the barest breath, running his fingers sharply through his hair when the understanding came rushing toward him. “For having what I have, I guess. For...being born where I was. It’s kinda stupid, isn’t it?”

“Not stupid, pretty boy,” Billy answered, eyes narrowing just enough to get his seriousness across. His lips parted to say something, but the words couldn’t escape before the man was turning his head to look out at the city again. “I’ll miss this the most, I think.”

“The view’s gorgeous,” Steve agreed, forcing his eyes away from Billy’s profile and out at the skyline.

“Not the view,” Billy corrected as gently as Steve had ever heard him. “You. I’m gonna miss you.”

“You say that like you won’t make it out.”

Another shrug again, this one sending a sharp spike into Steve’s heart. Billy was saying it so casually, so simply like the thought of his death wasn’t a new one. Steve supposed for the people of the Districts, it wasn’t. 

“One in twenty-four.”

“One in twenty-four,” Steve repeated, daring to reach out a hand to rest on Billy’s arm. “That’s not zero. You have to come back. For Max, for your friends, for...for me.”

“For you?” Billy asked then, turning his head to reveal the soft amusement glittering in his eyes. “Can’t let you go 0-1, right?”

It wasn’t what he meant, and Steve is sure Billy knows it. He can almost see the request in Billy’s features now, though, the reminder that for Billy everything could be over in a few short weeks. Even as soon as tomorrow, they just didn’t know. Don’t leave him yearning for what he might not get, and don’t leave him distracted tomorrow, Steve can practically hear it yelled between them.

So as much as he wants to say the truth, Steve nods. “You better not ruin my record, Billy. I’ll never forgive you.”

If Billy noticed the slight wobble in Steve’s voice, he didn’t say a word.

Steve nearly cried when a knock on the door sounded the next day.

Any other time he might’ve felt embarrassment course through him at the speed with which he yanked the door open, but now all he felt was sheer relief that Billy had come back.

It was a dangerous game they were playing, and at any second Snow could make his checkmate move to end the whole show.

“Billy,” Steve breathed, reaching out for a hug but stopping short at the other man’s wince. “Oh.” He allowed his hands to hover uselessly in the air before his mind sparked to life with the memory of their routine. “Right. Let’s get you a bath, okay?”

“No.” Billy’s voice was tight like he was fighting off either pain or tears or maybe all of the above. “No bath, just need you tonight.”

“Yeah, of course,” Steve said softly, moving aside so Billy could step into the apartment. Billy moved like he was on auto-pilot, ghosting through the place until he reached the bedroom. All Steve could do was follow helplessly behind, something dark and cold settling uncomfortably in his stomach. It had never been this bad before, and Steve felt the sharp pang of guilt flood him at the realization that he had no idea what to do to fix it. “Billy, what do you need? Please, what can I do?”

“Just need you,” Billy repeated, voice gruff as he barely waited to slip off his shoes before collapsing into the bed. 

There had to be more. There was no way it was only him that Billy needed, that there really was nothing more obvious Steve could do to help than be beside him. And yet, that was what Billy requested and so it would be what he got. So Steve complied, slipping off his shirt and crawling into bed behind Billy. He pressed as close as possible, wrapping his arms around the man’s body and holding tight. Some appointments were worse than others, some with arrogant Capitolites who seemed to want to win over a Victor themselves. It was never like this though, pulling Billy tight like a rope and seemingly sucking every ounce of fight from his body. They didn’t talk for a long time, Steve simply holding on until he felt Billy begin to relax against him, pushing further back into his hold. When Billy’s fingers traced over the hand Steve had pressed to his chest, Steve knew that he’d come back from wherever his mind had been since the previous evening. 

“Who was it?” Steve murmured into the back of Billy’s neck.

“Brenner,” Billy breathed back, a hand squeezing tight to hold onto the one Steve had pressed against Billy’s clothed chest. “Hey, I’m fine, pretty boy, don’t worry about me.”

Steve sucked in a sharp breath at that one. Brenner was known to be nasty and cruel, even before Steve had been enlightened to the true horrors of the Games. He was Head Gamemaker, popular with the Capitolites for coming up with new and disturbing creatures to stick on the tributes each year. Every year they grew more horrific, more deadly until they almost did more damage than the tributes themselves. He didn’t think the man’s reputation could be any more sinister, and yet he’d managed to surpass any and all expectations. 

“I’ll kill him.” Fear lurched in Steve’s chest when he found the sentiment wasn’t entirely false. No, the next time he was in the same room with the Gamemakers he’d have to steer clear of the man lest he makes the news for becoming the first murderer in the Capitol since its creation. He would though, if it meant Billy never had to hurt like this again, if the man only ever knew peace after this night. 

“How was your day?” Billy insisted.

“Terrible and boring, better now that you’re here,” Steve spoke quickly, distractedly. All he wanted was to focus on Billy, to make sure that he was okay. It didn’t matter what tedium his day consisted of, not when something far more disturbing had befallen Billy. “Are you hurt?”

“Why was it terrible?”

“Billy.” Steve wanted to cry. The back of Billy’s neck was wet, so maybe he already was crying. It was hard to be aware of anything beyond the anguished panic setting deep into Steve’s bones. “Please.”

“What made your day so terrible, Steve?”

Steve sighed, defeated. He knew this game too well and knew better than to go toe-to-toe at it with the Victor. “The Quarter Quell announcement is next week. Promotions for the Games have started back up. Having to be in a room with them all, pretending like all of it is just o—”

“Steve.” Billy’s voice was gentle, though the squeeze of his hand was not. A reminder.

“It’s boring, meeting with these men. Worse now that I know what they did to you. I just want to ki—,” Steve finished, knowing Billy was aware of what he’d meant. It was cruel, to pretend that he was still in love with these Games when all they’d done was torture one of the most brilliant men Steve had ever met, the only man who had ever made Steve feel alive. “Wanted to be with you instead.”

“Me too,” Billy said, “Thought about our place.” And that, alone, was enough to account for a million words. There was something to talk about, something that needed to be said away from the prying eyes and ears of the Capitol. In a week, Steve could hear what Billy wanted to say.

Maybe they were really running away together.

Every thought was halted the moment Billy tried to shift in Steve’s arms, though. He moved his hips first, unable to stop the pained whimper that slipped at the movement, exacerbated by the jolt from his abdomen. 

Billy was hurt. He was hurt, maybe had been since yesterday, and he hadn’t told Steve. They’d been laying in bed for ages and all he’d done was let Steve hold on, never minding how much it must have ached.

Billy was hurt.

“Billy,” Steve spoke then, voice more insistent as he lifted himself up to look at him properly. “Please, let me see. I need to take care of you.”

“It’s fine,” Billy grunted out, turning his face to hide it further into the pillow.

“It’s not fine,” Steve insisted. “You’re hurt and you’re hiding it. Fucking Brenner, he hurt you and I almost didn’t—you could’ve—”

Billy at least was ready to put Steve out of his misery. He sat up and pulled his shirt off, revealing miles of tanned skin once perfected by the repair process all victorious tributes go through now mottled harshly with bruises. Around his ribs, across his chest—where Steve’s hand had once dug in, how much that must have ached—all the way down his sides where dark bruises in the shape of fingers were pressed deeply into the skin around Billy’s hips and—

God, Steve thought he might be sick. 

“Billy,” he breathed, fingers reaching out to brush idly over one of the marks, tears clinging to his cheeks as the Victor grabbed his hand and placed it on Billy’s cheek instead. The man’s tears ran over Steve’s thumb, gathering there in the space between thumb and forefinger. “Is this everything? Are you hurt anywhere else? Did he—”

“Steve.” Billy’s voice was pained, tightened with every ounce of emotion coursing through him. “I don’t want you to see that. Let me keep it separate, who I am with you and what I am for them.”

Nothing else would hurt quite like this. Knowing Billy was in pain, knowing deep down what other injuries Billy was begging to keep concealed from him, knowing it was Steve’s people that were doing this to him, and if he were to do anything about it they would both be doomed. Steve had never felt so helpless, so completely and utterly defeated by the world around them.

“Okay,” Steve conceded, wishing the acceptance wasn’t the only thing he could do to help Billy now. “Okay, it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

“Don’t do anything, Steve,” Billy told him as Steve gathered him back up in his arms, now more aware of where his hands rested. “You can’t.”

“I could,” Steve whispered to the darkened room. “They all love you. If they knew what was happening. If they knew that we...they’d put a stop to it for us.”

“I’ll be okay,” Billy told him, turning gingerly so he could face Steve. They were so close Steve couldn’t really see him, could barely focus his eyes on that button nose he loved so much. “Steve, things are...it’s dangerous, talking like that. Things are changing, you can’t...I need you safe.”

Billy was speaking barely over a whisper, barely audible even in the silent bedroom. It was all so strange, too oddly worded to make even a bit of sense. 

“What are you saying? Billy, what are you doing?” This was dangerous. Each move could be their last, every misstep carefully marked down by Snow until enough strikes were gathered to doom them. Even this, allowing themselves the time to hold each other, could be enough and yet there Billy was, talking about danger and change and—oh.

“The girl from Eleven,” Steve mouthed, didn’t even dare to breathe the words to life for all the weight they carried. Jane from District Eleven was barely twelve years old and still, she’d been reaped. Still, she had fought the odds and won, and still, she’d forced the gamemakers to change the rules for her. She’d refused to kill the final boy, refused to be the harbinger of death that Brenner and the rest of the Capitol had demanded she be. She’d changed the rules of the Games—did Billy mean she was meant to change the rules of Panem?

“Our place,” Billy promised instead of answering, reaching out to press gentle lips to Steve’s. “Then.”

The summons from President Snow wasn’t a surprise after the Quarter Quell announcement. 

When Snow had stood at the podium and announced this year’s tributes would be Reaped only from previous Victors, Steve couldn’t help but feel those cold gray eyes had stared directly at him, that every emotionless damnation of the people who’d come out of the gauntlet alive was meant simply to punish him and Billy.

Steve considered not attending, though the thought only lasted a fleeting moment before he considered what his execution might do to Billy’s focus. 

Because Steve knew his love, knew that Billy would sooner volunteer himself for death before he allowed anyone else to take the fall. 

So Steve dressed up in his newest suit—a silver thing, with sparkling accents that screamed the elegance associated with the Harrington name. He accepted the escort car to the President’s manor and composed himself for a full minute before stepping into Snow’s office. This would be the most dangerous game he ever played, stepping directly into the lion’s den and expecting to be let back out at the end.

“Mr. Harrington, I was pleased you accepted my invitation for tea,” the president spoke, standing by a little wooden table set up by the large window in the corner. Already prepared were two cups of tea, waiting like dark omens of what was to come.

Steve wasn’t naive to what this meeting was—he may be young, but he was a Harrington. He’d been involved in these games from the time he could speak, attending meetings with the most influential people in the Capitol and learning every secret they were willing to divulge. He knew what happened to those marked an enemy by Snow, and knew what was expected of him now.

“How could I refuse such a generous offer?” Steve kept to the script, waiting until President Snow sat down until he slid into his own seat. He let his fingers rest on the handle of the cup but didn’t move it to his lips yet, waiting. “Though I have to admit, I’m not sure I should be wasting the president’s precious time.”

“No? The youngest Stylist in Hunger Games history, the youngest Stylist to produce a Victor, I must say, you’ve impressed me, Mr. Harrington.”

“Please, sir, Steve is fine. Mr. Harrington was my father,” Steve said, polite smile cold on his lips. “You’re too kind, I could hardly take credit for being on a Victor’s team. That was all Billy.”

“Yes, Mr. Hargrove. He’s something of a marvel, isn’t he?”

Snow’s words were still polite, and gentle, but his expression was anything but. There was a coldness in his eyes, a hardness that reminded Steve of all the rumors he’d been told about people on this side of the table from him. Snow was a snake, and had the venom to match. 

“He is,” Steve agreed slowly, fingers tightening around his cup of tea. “I imagine we won’t have a Victor quite like him for some time.”

“I’ve heard reports of you becoming close with Mr. Hargrove. Quite unconventional for a Stylist, yes?”

Steve nodded, tongue re-wetting his lips while he stalled for an answer befitting his image. “I don’t tend to stick to normal convention, sir.”

“No, you don’t, do you?” Snow chuckled before his expression dropped, revealing every ounce of danger that Steve had been warned of all at once. “Tell me, Steve, what is it that you and Mr. Hargrove talk about? After all, you can’t have that much in common with the man.”

“That’s exactly what we talk about,” Steve lied. “He tells me about District 4, and I tell him about growing up in the Capitol. It’s fascinating, hearing how different it is.”

Snow hummed, clearly displeased by the answer. “Steve, I must admit I do hate liars. If this conversation is to continue I do ask that you provide me the truth.”

The truth meant certain death. Though, Steve supposed that the opposite was also true now. This was an Execution Trap, meant simply to lure Steve in. No choice would be enough now, he knew it.

It had to be about protecting Billy now, and whatever change he was sure Jane from District Eleven could bring.

“Well, I have to admit I’m not sure what you mean, sir,” Steve answered, allowing his voice to sharpen. “I’m nothing if not honest.”

“What are you willing to do for him, Steve?” Snow asked, shoulders calm and voice relaxed like he did this every day. He likely did. “You could have everything you dreamed of. Your choice of Districts to style for, every interview you could imagine. You would never want for anything if you gave up this silly game now.”

“I’m actually pretty fond of the silliness. I haven’t gotten to experience much of that before.” Steve smirked at the quick flash of anger that cracked Snow’s perfectly constructed mask.

“You know what they’re planning, Steve. You would give up everything for them? For him?”

Steve hummed then too, sitting back in his seat. “I would give all this and more for him. That is your greatest weakness, sir: you can’t understand why I would.”

“Then I believe this conversation is over. You haven’t even touched your tea, you should finish it before you leave.”

Steve understood the demand for what it was. Pride swelled in his chest when his hand didn’t shake as he brought the cup to his lips. The tea tasted bitter on his tongue as he downed the cup in one go.

The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth by the time he set the cup back down.

Checkmate.

“This is your beach?”

Steve had never seen a place quite like District 4. He’d never been outside of the pristine cityscape of the Capitol, never having a reason to before Billy became a Victor.

“This is the one,” Billy said, grabbing onto Steve’s hand to guide him through the sand. The Victory Tour would begin tomorrow, where the near-nineteen-year-old would have to give speeches for all the tributes he killed or who tried to kill him. For this moment, however, all that existed in Steve’s mind was this: the beach, the gentle crash of the waves on the sand, the sun warming Steve’s shoulders and face, the feel of Billy’s large hand over his own with every callous carefully built through years of fishing erased in a moment. “Used to come here every day with my mom, then with Max or a friend. It’s peaceful.”

“It is,” Steve agreed, wishing he’d been able to see the water sooner. “I’d like to live here. You and I, get a little house by the beach. Can you imagine it?”

“Yeah,” Billy breathed. “Yeah, I can. No one knows who we are.”

“No one knows where we are.”

“Just you and I.”

“None of these dangerous games, no careful moves and strategies lies. Just the beach.”

“We’ll have it someday,” Billy spoke, more sure than Steve could ever think to be about it.

“You promise?”

Billy smiled, looking far happier under the sun here than he’d ever looked in the Capitol. He was alive here. 

“I promise, pretty boy. We’ll have this.”

“So tell me, Billy,” Caesar began, shifting in his seat to cross one leg over the other. “You’re twenty-six. You were eighteen when you won your Games, how do you feel about being back in the arena now?”

“You want my honest answer?”

Caesar laughed, clapping his hands dramatically. “Of course! We wouldn’t want to hear any less from the fan favorite.”

“Well,” Billy started, glancing off to the front row of the crowd where Steve was sitting with the other Stylists. Steve knew the Victors had some plan, knew they were trying to get these Games stopped before they had to protect Jane in the arena. He knew whatever it was had to be risky, and could topple down everything that the Victors who’d volunteered were trying to create. “I wish I could say something good, Caesar, but I admit I’m heartbroken.”

“Heartbroken!” Caesar exclaimed, clutching his hand over where his own might have once rested. “What could have our shining star so heartbroken?”

“What else, Caesar? Love. I’m in love and because of these Games I might never get to tell them.”

Oh fuck.

“Love,” Casesar glanced off-screen with an air of nervousness. The other seven tributes before Billy had done much of the same, trying to pit emotions against the Capitol. After all, they’d been taught to fall in love with each of these Victors and now were being forced to watch them kill each other in a few short weeks. No one was quite as successful as Billy yet, though, who was already sparking murmurs throughout the crowd. “I wouldn’t count yourself out just yet, Billy. This lucky girl is waiting for you back home, surely that’s motivation enough to win.”

“Oh no, Caesar,” Billy said, turning to stare directly at Steve with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. We could change everything.

“He isn’t waiting for me back home. He’s been here this whole time. I’m afraid Steve’s going to have to dress me up for slaughter again, right when we thought we had the happy ending promised to us, to me.”

The crowd was nothing less than explosive. Loud shouts of shock, horror, brief elation at the fact that two of the most popular young men in Panem were in love, and screams for the Games to end, rippled through the crowd. It didn’t stop at Billy, either. With each new Victor, another claim was made, another push for the Games to be halted. The crowd was restless around Steve, agitated beyond belief.

They might really do this.

It may not be enough to stop the Games, or even to allow Steve and Billy the peaceful ending they’d wished so hard for. Steve didn’t know if this would be enough to give him and Billy their beach, but it sparked the starter fire that would take over Panem. Finally, finally, the Capitol was beginning to see and could understand the blood that painted their hands with each new year. 

As the crowd raged around him, Steve looked up at President Snow’s viewing box and smirked.

The stage lights went dark.

TAGLIST: @alessiamargaux @minispice-1 @shadetea @emily19990 @alexxavicry @raven2008 @whoringrove @strangerleaves @blackpanzy @goodproofingwater @greetings-and-salutations @doralovesit @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @steddiemunsonharrington @magellan-88 @sideblogforcrimpy-plus @dreamdancerdotfile @lonesomewitchkingg @mrs-fanfiction-2001 @lancedrawsdrawings @cherry-sorry @dragonflylady77

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[therecordconnection]

Ranting and Raving: "Sleeping with the Television On" by Billy Joel

1980 was a good year for Billy Joel. His seventh studio album, Glass Houses, continued his upward momentum as a superstar in a number of ways. Glass Houses was his second number one album (52nd Street was the first one, released two years prior), he scored his first number one hit on Billboard (“It’s Only Rock and Roll to Me”), and three other songs from the album were Top 40 hits (“You May Be Right,” “Don’t Ask Me Why,” and “Sometimes a Fantasy”). 

Glass Houses was an album that made a deliberate attempt to break away from the lighter, softer, and more ballad-y songs that he had been starting to become critically trashed for. Songs like “Just the Way You Are,” “She’s Always a Woman,” and “Honesty” had been successful hits, but the cost was that it started giving people the wrong impression that Billy and the band couldn’t rock with the best of them. By 1980, Joel had started playing arenas and stadiums, so those songs would only do so much and go so far in larger venues. He was gonna need to start coming up with bigger sounding songs that packed a real punch if he was gonna continue the upward swing and deliver a rock show that the growing audiences at his shows would really remember. 

“Sleeping with the Television On” represents the best attempt at doing that. It also might be one of the best songs that represents every strength Billy had as a songwriter. 

Billy Joel is a man who would rather talk to you about his album cuts rather than his hits, which makes sense. I imagine someone can only talk about “Piano Man” or “Uptown Girl” for so long before there’s nothing left to say. “Sleeping with the Television” on the other hand, is a song I have many things to say about.

The song begins with the end of “The Star Spangled Banner,” which then fades out and segues into a droning tone. This used to be the norm back in the day. TV stations would sign off for the night (imagine that!) and just transmit static until morning. That’s what the warning "Tomorrow morning you'll wake up with the white noise" means. If Diane, the woman Billy is singing to in the song, really did fall asleep with her television on, that's what she would hear. Nowadays, Diane would either hear some random channel if she still pays for cable for some reason, or she’ll wake up to Netflix asking her if she’s still watching Schitt’s Creek. Other than that little explanation, the lyrics to this song have aged very well. 

Lyrically, the song is all about refusing to take chances on possible love interests. This is expressed by looking at it from two points of view that Billy sings about. The first set of verses are aimed at a woman named Diane, whom Billy has been watching all night somewhere. The last set of verses are about Billy himself. Diane is described as a hard and overly defensive woman, someone who puts up a front and won’t let anybody try to sweep her off her feet. Billy argues, “You'll shoot 'em down because you're waiting / For somebody good to come on.” The criticisms he fires at Diane are the same ones he will also fire at himself. You can’t know for sure who the “somebody good” is unless you take a chance and talk to somebody. Billy puts Diane down probably because he sees too much of himself in her and he’s aware of what happens to those who don’t take chances.

Oh, You say you're looking for someone solid here You can't be bothered with those 'just for the night' boys Tonight unless you take some kind of chances dear Tomorrow morning you'll wake up with a white noise

In a way, one could find similarities between Billy singing to Diane here and Billy singing to Virginia in “Only the Good Die Young.” Both songs involve him trying to convince a woman to take a chance on the wild side for a change. There’s also the connection of Billy trying to convince both girls to take a chance on him. In Virginia’s case, that’s having a Catholic girl try to laugh with the sinners instead of cry with the saints. For Diane, he’s warning her about what will happen if she doesn’t give anybody a chance. There’s nothing more sad than going home alone and having only the television to keep you company, as far as this song is concerned. Billy decides that he can see through Diane’s defenses and determines that it’s her attitude that’s the big problem.

Your eyes are saying talk to me But your attitude is "don't waste my time" Your eyes are saying talk to me But you won't hear a word 'cause it just might be the same old line All night long, all night long You're only standing there 'Cause somebody once did somebody wrong (all night long, all night long) But you'll be sleeping with the television on

Billy Joel has always had great strength as a lyricist. When compared to the other piano man Elton John, Billy tends to shine more, probably due in part to the fact that Billy writes his own words, Elton doesn’t. It isn’t just that Billy writes his own words, it’s more that he tends to be a very honest man in his lyrics, perhaps a bit too honest sometimes. You hear him sing the words to his songs and you just get the sense that what he’s singing is coming from the heart. This helps him greatly when he has to perform and sing his own words to an audience. Last time I wrote about Electric Light Orchestra’s “Telephone Line” and how Jeff Lynne never leaves any trace of himself on the page. Billy on the other hand, leaves a lot of himself on the page. Part of what makes the lines in the later verses have real impact is that Billy has never tried to sell a version of himself that didn’t feel authentically him. If you consider Billy Joel a “rock star,” then he has everything going against him when trying to carry that title. He’s a short king at five foot five, he looked like a weird cross between Sylvester Stallone and Billy Crystal (especially during the seventies when he had that bushy afro thing going on), and he was a piano player in an age where the only beloved members of rock bands were the guitar player, the frontman, and maybe the drummer (if they’re lucky). He’s a “rock star” in the same weird way that somebody like Elvis Costello is a “rock star.” They’re dorks, but they’re such honest dorks that they wrap back around to being cool. If you wanted to make an analogy and link him to a Beatle, he wanted to be cool like George but had to settle for being dorky and earnest like Paul, which isn’t a bad thing.

In the case of “Sleeping with the Television On,” there might be more truth to his words than fiction. The best verse of the song is when Billy starts pointing the zap gun at himself:

This isn't easy for me to say Diane I know you don't need anybody's protection I really wish I was less of a thinking man And more a fool who's not afraid of rejection All night long, all night long I'll just be standing here 'Cause I know I don't have the guts to come on And I'll be sleeping with the television on

“I really wish I was less of a thinking man / And more a fool who's not afraid of rejection” is one of the best and most honest lines Billy has ever written in my opinion. If any rock star of the era had said this I would’ve laughed it off as a lie. Mick Jagger has never thought this, David Bowie has never thought this, none of the Beatles could’ve ever sold that. Part of what I think makes Billy Joel’s music hold up is that his words resonate with every dork and lovable loser that’s just like him. The ones that have had to step out of their comfort zone and take a chance, knowing full well it might blow up in their face. I said that Billy puts Diane down probably because he sees too much of himself in her, but I also think it’s a case of Billy wanting to shoot her down before she even has the chance to reject him. 

Your eyes are saying talk to me, talk to me But my attitude is "boy, don't waste your time" Your eyes are saying talk to me, talk to me But I won't say a word 'cause it Just might be somebody else's same old line

In his mind, he can’t be rejected if he never makes a move and he curses his inability to take a risk. We’ve all been there at one point or another. Don’t waste your time because it’s probably gonna end badly. Don’t use a pick-up line that some poor woman has had to hear a million times, both in person and on various dating apps. It’s not simply a song about a guy dunking on a woman for being too choosy and overly defensive, there’s more to it than that and Billy sees it. He’s criticizing her because he acts the same way she does and he doesn’t want to see it happen to her. It’s a song about defense mechanisms and how a reliance on them will cause you to possibly lose out on something that could be good for you. Unlike ELO’s “Telephone Line,” which was a song about a romantic situation where the outcome was undetermined, Billy knows how this scenario ends: “We're only standing here 'cause somebody might do somebody wrong / and we’ll be sleeping with the television on.” 

I admit that there are probably better ways to highlight loneliness. I imagine a lot of people who aren’t alone fall asleep with the television on. My parents have been falling asleep with the television on together for over thirty years. I have plenty of friends who say they turn on long Youtube videos or they’ll turn on a movie, get comfy in bed, and then immediately conk out. However, Billy sells the idea that sleeping with the television on is a sad fate. You can picture it, right? Sad, lonely little Billy Joel goes back home, probably cleans up his house a little, makes a late dinner or something, sees what’s on TV, and then falls asleep on the couch in a dark living room, the only sounds he hears waking up the next morning are the news or whatever channel was on during the night before. There are more gut wrenching ways to show loneliness, but Billy picks one that probably not a lot of people would think of. 

The lyrics aren’t exactly positive, but the music sure as hell is. Billy set out to make bigger sounding and more rocking songs with Glass Houses and he absolutely succeeded and then some. “Sleeping with the Television On” is just incredible! It’s this wonderfully concise song that’s just barely three minutes, it’s tight as hell, it’s bouncy, and it’s just a fun tune to listen to. What blows me away with this song is how weirdly herky-jerk it is. That intro has strange places where the band starts, then holds a note, then starts, then holds a note again. It’s like a jet ski riding on a lake. It’s smooth, then you hit a wave and you jump up a bit, then you’re back on the lake like nothing happened. It’s a real testament to the talent of Billy’s classic backing band because this song sounds deceptively easy, when in reality one bad mistake can fuck it all up and get it wrong. If you play it too slow, the song just sounds like you’ve got a band that doesn’t know what they’re doing. If you play it too fast, the rhythm gets all messed up and the song becomes too herky-jerk and way too much, it becomes too loose. The band plays this at the perfect tempo and they know where to start, when to hold, and when to keep the rhythm consistent. 

Speaking of consistent rhythm, the real star on this song has gotta be drummer and “Most Italian Sounding Name In Town” award winner, Liberatori “Liberty” Devitto. Focus on him when listening to this song and it’s such understated work but it really adds a lot. He’s constantly switching up the beat every few measures to match the changes in Billy’s vocal melody and where the song is going. It’s wonderful. I’ve counted at least four different kinds of beats he plays in the song. He never stays on one of them for too long and you can hear Neil Peart do something similar on Rush’s “Subdivisions.” What makes it stand out and makes it so wonderful is how it’s only a slight change every now and again to keep things fresh. He never throws a wrench in the song and he doesn’t bring a lot of attention to it either so it’s easy to not even notice how often he’s changing things up.

“You May Be Right” and “Sometimes a Fantasy” were the songs from Glass Houses that proved Billy was capable of writing hard rocking songs that could stand with the best of the them, but if “Sleeping with the Television On” proves anything, it proves that Billy Joel understood the genre of “new wave,” which was something that was only just beginning to crop up at the start of the decade. Arena rock bands of the early eighties like the Rolling Stones or Foreigner or Journey wouldn’t be able to pull off a song like this, but early eighties new wave acts like Elvis Costello and the Attractions, Joe Jackson, or XTC absolutely could. The song rocks, but it still retains and mostly keeps the polished pop elements that made Billy a huge star at the end of the seventies and would keep him working through the eighties and beyond. That little keyboard solo in the middle of the song lasts less than twenty seconds, but it’s such a fun little thing. It’s another memorable part of a very good song. Nothing overstays its welcome here and the song has no wild tricks up its sleeve. It knows what it wants to do, what it wants to be, and just goes for it. Most importantly, it does it right and it doesn’t waste your time. It’s just a fun and enjoyable little song on a pop-rock album, which is sometimes all that you really want. 

“Sleeping with the Television On” wasn’t one of the singles from Glass Houses, but it absolutely could’ve been. In a way, it might be better for it that it wasn’t. It’s tucked away on the second side of the album, waiting for any curious listener who wants to find it. Its creator certainly wants you to find it. It still gets played today as part of the many songs Billy Joel performs as part of his residency at Madison Square Garden that seemed endless (until he announced that it will finally be coming to an end in July 2024, with his 150th performance at the venue. Get tickets while you still can!) Billy Joel’s hits are more than worthy of attention, but so are his album cuts. What you get with “Sleeping with the Television On” is a wonderful piece of pop-rock that serves as a warning and explores the consequences of not taking chances. It’s a lesson in not being so defensive; that there’s a beauty in leaving yourself exposed and open for what could be a good opportunity. There’s the obvious risk that you’re gonna get hurt, but the song argues that taking a chance and getting hurt is better than going home alone and having nothing but the sounds of the television to comfort you. Hell, if any rockstar was gonna tell you that taking a risk might lead to something good, it’s Billy freakin’ Joel. That man is the epitome of “shoot your shot.” After he got divorced from his first wife in 1982, that man dated a supermodel who later had the nickname “The Body” (Elle Macpherson)! That guy got to be married to Christie Brinkley for nine years! If he can make stuff like that happen, shit, we all should take a chance and shoot our shot. Sometimes it works... though it helps if you’re a really successful and good piano player on top of that.

Regardless, it’s a good lesson from one of New York’s finest. Take a risk and make a move. Fortune favors the bold and if you’re lucky, you’ll still fall asleep with the television on, but there will be somebody to share breakfast with in the morning.

[bylertruther]

what byler moment do you love the most? And what moment made click and see that Mike has feelings for Will too?

my favorite byler moment is the rain fight hands down. it's THEEEE byler moment to end all byler moments undeniably n irrefutably. the only ones that come close are the shed scene and the dear billy bedroom talk because it reaffirms the shed scene speech. i love the rain fight though bc mike asks him if he really thought they would be together forever without girlfriends and will, even as his heart has been shattered into a million pieces at "it's not my fault you don't like girls," he still says yes. i did. i really did.

and then, after moping and complaining and being totally unsure of how to make up with el, he does EXACTLY what max said mike would do for her, for will. he doesn't need lucas to walk him through it, he does it of his own volition instinctively. not for his girlfriend... but for will. literally bikes across town in the pouring rain!!! the romance film antics of it all...

and then!! we get will crying in castle byers while memories are overlayed that focus on mike's voice and then will tears a photo of them right down the middle. like...... it's just... SO MUCH? will not backing down and saying he DID want forever with mike? and then in s4 he repeats the same thing that mike threw in his face? which could suggest that it's something they've dreamed abt before everything got complicated & suggests will is still always true to himself? and mike chasing after will, breaking his own heart, too, because the fact of the matter is he NEVER wanted to lose will and yet he feels that he's pulling away from him anyway and there's nothing he can do to stop it, even with all of his calls that never even go through. i just. AHHHH!!! THE RAIN FIGHT!!!! cements tht will IS special, even and perhaps ESPECIALLY from el. mike consistently CANNOT give her what he is expected to, because he's too busy giving it to WILL without EVER needing to be coached or told to. byler rain fight solos >>>>>>>>>

i mean, season two in general made me kinda 👀🏳️‍🌈⁉️ bc even though we're shown that mike is the biggest sweetheart, the care that he showed will was just special. and entirely over the top and reckless and dogged (ahem "only love makes you that crazy sweetheart and that damn stupid") just like in s1. and saying he was the best thing he'd ever done? insanity. i thought even with the snowball that they were headed in that direction but then season three came and punched me in the tit so i lost all hope lol.

BUT THEN !!!!!!!!!!!! s4 came and revived me with a defibrillator. the hug threw me off bc i was like oh my godddddddd DON'T TELL ME THIS BOY IS BACK ON HIS MF BULLSHIT BRO PLEASEEEEEEEEEEEEE but then. dear lord. WHEN HE GOT ALL WEIRD ABT THE PAINTING? i know a gay when i see one, bro. he had no reason to be weird abt the painting if not gay. AND THEN THE RINK-O-MANIA FIGHT? WE'RE FRIENDS! WE'RE. FRIENDS. BROOOOOOOO THE HOMOSEXUALITY WAS THREW THE ROOF IT'S OVER!!!!!! GIVE IT A REST!!!!!!! that was all i needed 2 see. that, on top of everything else we've previously seen? and then the dear billy scene? hi, gay. welcome back, we missed u dearly.

[libertastandem]

lyrics that make me think of the Todoroki siblings (especially Dabi) and Shigaraki

Don't say it isn't fair

You clearly weren't aware that you made me miserable

I don't relate to you

I don't relate to you, no

'Cause I'd never treat me this shitty

You made me hate this city

You were my everything

And all that you did was make me fucking sad

I could talk about every time that you showed up on time

But I'd have an empty line 'cause you never did

You ruined everything good

Always said you were misunderstood

Made all my moments your own

Just fucking leave me alone

She said you were a hero, you played the part

But you ruined her in a year, don't act like it was hard

How dare you?

And how could you?

Will you only feel bad when they find out?

If you could take it all back, would you?

Does it keep you in control?

For you to keep her in a cage?

Try not to abuse your power

I know we didn't choose to change

You might not wanna lose your power

But power isn't pain

And you don't seem to understand

A shame you seemed an honest man

And all the fears you hold so dear

Will turn to whisper in your ear

And you don't seem the lying kind

A shame that I can read your mind

And all the things that I read there

Candlelit smile that we both share

I say they're just the ones who gave me life

But I truly am my parents' child

Scattered 'cross my family line

God, I have my father's eyes

But my sister's when I cry

I can run, but I can't hide

From my family line

Jesus can always reject his father

But he cannot escape his mother’s blood

He’ll scream and try to wash it off of his fingers

But he’ll never escape what he’s made up of

Tell me a story

About how it ends

Where you're still the good guy

I'll make pretend

'Cause I hate this story

Where happiness ends and dies with you

Praying I'd be like you

Doing all of the things that you do

And I still do

And that scares me

I'm tired of you, still tied to me

You were born bluer than a butterfly

Beautiful and so deprived of oxygen

Colder than your father's eyes

He never learned to sympathize with anyone

I don't blame you

But I can't change you

Don't hate you

But we can't save you

You were born reaching for your mother's hands

Victim of your father's plans to rule the world

Too afraid to step outside

Paranoid and petrified of what you've heard

I am the monster you created

You ripped out all my parts

And worst of all, for me to live, I gotta kill the part of me that saw

That I needed you more

I hope you know we had everything

And you broke me and left these pieces

I want you to hurt like you hurt me today and

I want you to lose like I lose when I play

Oh, what could have been

Why don't you love who I am?

What we could have been

And the worst part is

I loved you

I loved you

I loved you it's true

And sometimes I feel like

I still fucking do

[camaro-hargrove]

What Happened To Me?

word count: 1.3k

-

Billy wants to know everything. He wants to know what happened from the very start until right this second because he’s still not sure what happened to him and everyone is fucking ignoring him.

The nurses don’t say shit, just tend to his wounds and help him move around when he’s too weak to do so himself. After, you know, sacrificing himself after apparently being possessed but some interdimensional creature and still not even being told the full story.

He’s pissed off that no one tells him what’s going on. It’s all no disclosure agreements and government people and apparently being possessed doesn’t warrant an explanation.

So he tries to figure it out himself.

He, Max and Susan live in the trailer park now and apparently her little friends have joined Hellfire Club. Eddie has been begging Billy to join Hellfire as soon as Billy arrived in Hawkins and Billy always replied with a strong no. Sometimes he helped out on campaigns whilst getting high with Eddie in his room but that’s as far as it really got.

He’s been out most of the day, trying to find a job that will agree with his limited abilities right now when he comes home and finds all the lights in the caravan park flickering. He’s got an uneasy feeling as he walks up to his new home and turns when he hears something from the Munson trailer across the way.

Eddie flies out of the trailer like a bat out of hell and sees Billy staring in shock. He rushes over and drags Billy with him and suddenly Billy is holding on for dear life as Eddie speeds away from the trailer park.

“Chrissy” Eddie rubs a hand down his face “Fuck, man, her eyes, her arms fuck”

“What?”

“She died man” Eddie looks over, fear evident on his face “Her arms and legs fucking snapped and she was on my ceiling, it was like she was -”

“Possessed” Billy finished

“Yeah” Eddie shakes his head “Fuck, man, I was the last person to be seen with her and you know my reputation round here”

Billy’s not really sure how to respond but they end up at Reefer Rick’s place. Billy’s been here a couple of times before and Rick is…a character to say the least. He follows Eddie into the boat shed and then they just sit for a bit.

Eddie breaks the silence by telling Billy the story of what happened in the trailer. About Chrissy going to buy drugs from him - the biggest surprise to Billy if he’s being honest - and how all the lights were fucked and then she was in a trance he couldn’t snap her out of. It sounds insane and Billy would think this is some prank if he hadn’t gone through his own bout of terror only months earlier.

“There wasn’t a mall fire” Billy says after Eddie had finished his story “I mean, there was but that’s not the full story”

Eddie looks up at him with curious eyes and seems to understand that maybe Billy understood what happened more than he realised.

“Do you know what happened to Chrissy?” he asks

“I don’t know” Billy shakes his head “I don’t even really know what happened to me because no one will tell me”

“What happened to you?”

“I was possessed. I crashed my car outside the steel mill and this monster dragged me down and it went inside my mouth” Billy sniffs, turning away so Eddie wouldn’t see him cry. “I couldn’t get away and when I did I was in Hawkins but it wasn’t Hawkins”

Eddie is listening so intently that it momentarily stuns Billy. No one has ever paid this much attention while listening to him before. It gives him the confidence to keep on going because he’s never had anyone to talk about this until now.

“Sometimes I was myself but I have huge gaps of memory loss. I think I killed people” Billy whispers that last part “Like Heather, except I have no memory of it”

“Like Chrissy?” Eddie asks, leaning in closer.

Billy shakes his head, “I don’t know, I-I-I it made me try and bring him one of Max’s friends, El”

“Mike’s girlfriend?”

“Yeah”

“Thought she was fake” Eddie muses and the sincereness makes Billy burst into unexpected laughter. “But fuck, are you like, okay?”

“No” Billy wipes at his eyes “She saved me with her mind, she was in my head”

“What like…a psychic?”

“I don’t know” Billy replies, he lays down in the canoe and Eddie lies next to him, head next to his “She showed me my mum, before she left me”

“Oh”

“Yeah” Billy sighs “I was impaled by this creature and nearly died and still no one is telling the full story”

They lay there for what could be hours. Sometimes they chat but mostly they lie in silence, pulling the tarp over when they hear unfamiliar and sudden sounds. Billy’s never had a sleepover before but he imagines this is what they’re like, maybe not hiding in a shed in a canoe but he’ll take what he can get.

They awake to the sounds of birds and the sun shining through the trees and making the dust spiral in front of their eyes. Billy had managed to turn onto his side and now his body is aching. He didn’t bring his medication and his body is telling him so.

“Morning, sunshine” he jokes “Comfy?”

“No” Billy mumbles “I don’t have my meds and I’m in fucking agony”

“Right” Eddie nods “The whole monster impaling you. Was kinda hoping that was a dream, Chrissy too”

“I wish it was”

Billy slowly climbs out of the canoe, groaning as his scars pull and he does some soft stretches that he’s been assigned.

Eddie sits up and watches Billy stretch. He makes no comment when Billy’s shirt rides up and reveals the tail end of scars on his lower stomach. Neither made no move to find breakfast, still too worked up from the night before.

They chat idly, making a point to avoid all topics of last night and instead discuss the new Metallica single in depth. Billy already knows Eddie has pretty much mastered it on his guitar whether he wanted to listen to it or not, luckily he did want to hear it.

The sudden sound of car doors slamming have both of them diving back under the covers and holding their breaths. It’s gotten darker outside and the two of them crouch even further down as the boat shed doors open and multiple footsteps walk in. Someone picks up something next to them and Billy frowns when he hears Max’s voice. Of course it has something to do with her.

Before he can tell Eddie who it is, he’s grabbing a broken beer bottle and leaping out. Billy in a hurry follows and manages to grab him around the waist, sending both of them to the dirty ground in a pile. Eddie yells as he falls and Billy lets out an ‘oof’ as he lands on top of him awkwardly.

Billy looks up to see not just Max but Steve, Robin and who he thinks is Dustin staring at the two of them in shock.

“Uh” Steve starts to say something but is cut off by Max.

“Billy, what the fuck are you doing here?” Max asks “I thought you were at home!”

“Long story” Billy mutters, using the canoe as a leverage to stand up.

“Really long,” Eddie adds.

“Yeah” Steve drags the word out “About that”

“We can explain everything” Dustin says to Eddie

“Great” Eddie nods “Why don’t you start explaining everything from the start to Billy here, after he, you know, saved your little magical friends life”

Max, Dustin, Steve and Robin all look at one another as Billy stands there with his arms crossed and Eddie’s hand on his shoulder, a fierce look on his face.

“We’re waiting” Eddie sings sarcastically “Don’t be shy now, Billy deserves to know what he almost died for”

[daily-coloring]

Best of 2022 - Songs

This year sampling came back and I’m grateful it did. More and more artists are using it in a clever way, which is great. Latino music also got a big part in 2022′s favorites and I’m happy for them. I’m still not really into many rap music, I think I just adore the old-school ‘90s style of rapping. Less anger, more melody, more instruments. 

01. Tove Lo - 2 Die 4 - “You don't look like in your photo. You're prettier than that. Now I kinda wish that you said so. Would've put in more effort ...” Oh, I feel her pain. I hate online dating apps so much.

02. Rosalia + The Weeknd - La Fama

03. Marlon Williams - Don’t Go Back

04. Royksopp + Jamie Irrepressible - Sorry - This song always makes me cry no matter what. 

05. Josef Salvat - The Drum

06. The Smile - Speech Bubbles

07. Tove Lo - No One Dies From Love - “ We were so magical, why end this way? I know you're furious, yeah, just like me. You got good reasons, but I do too. What really happened here? I wish I knew...” Exactly what happened this year with me. 

08. The Weeknd - Sacrifice

09. Walt Disco - Macilent

10. Tamino - The First Disciple

11. Thomas Azier - Pelechian

12. Beyonce - COZY

13. The Wombats - If You Ever Leave, I’m Coming With You - Somewhere I came across a review where they said, it’s the most toxic lyrics this year. Which part? I couldn’t find it. 

14. Belle and Sebastian - Unnecessary Drama

15. Blaue Blume - Country- “Wanna be a part of the hype, But I’m loosing balance. Fuck it I’m done trying to hide. Faking that smile. I just wanna go for a ride, Out of this city, When you put on “Wuthering Heights”. I can’t help flying...”

16. Charlotte Adigery + Boris Pupul - Ceci n’est pas un cliche - Best gig I have been in this year. Unforgettable. 

17. Daniel Avery - Ultra Truth

18. Fontaines D.C. - I Love You

19. Harry Styles - As It Was

20. Marian Hill - Visions of You

21. Empress Of - Save Me

22. Rosalia - Candy

23. MO - Kindness

24. New Kids On The Block + Rick Astley + Salt’n’Pepa + En Vogue - Bring Back The Time

25. Rina Sawayama - Frankenstein

26. Skunk Anansie - Can’t Take You Anywhere - “Can't take you anywhere, 'Cause you'll just do it again. I can't take you anywhere, 'Cause you'll get messy with all my friends....”  Second best gig this year. Loved every minute of it. 

27. Tove Lo - How Long - She did brake my heart so many different ways this year. Fuck you!

28. Tamino - You Don’t Own Me

29. Working Men’s Club - Ploys

30. Yves Tumor - Secrecy is Incredibly Important to The Both of Them

31. Sondre Lerche - Cut

32. Pabllo Vittar + Rina Sawayama - Follow Me

33. Nilufer Yanya - Chase Me

34. Moderat - Easy Prey

35. Mitski - Love Me More

36. Lyndsey Lawlor - Pretty - “My Job Is To Be Pretty”

37. Leila - Who We Be

38. Get Well Soon - One For Your Workout

39. Florence + The Machine - My Love

40. Elefánt - Tó

41. Everything Everyting - Leviathan

42. Spoon - The Devil & Mister Jones

43. Submerge + Virgil Enzinger - It’s Almost Like it Never

44. Beyonce - Break My Soul

45. Archive - We Are The Same

46. The Fear Ratio + Ella Fleur - Lacovset

47. Honey Dijon + Annette Bowen + Nikki-O - Downtown

48. Lake Haze - Xyleac

49. Madrugada - Nobody Loves You Like I Do

50. Marian Hill - Little Bit

51. The Smile - Pana-Vision

52. Men I Trust - Billie Toppy

53. Stabbing Westward - Cold

54. The Wombats - Worry 

55. Walt Disco - My Dear - “ I've learnt not to pretend, But I am sad that some things weren't said. I believe time was good for us And how we felt helped us love around here. My dear...”

56. Benjamin Clementine - Copening

57. The Weeknd - Gasoline

58. Belle and Sebastian - Talk To Me, Talk To Me

59. Polica - Alive

60. Romy + Fred Again.. - Strong

61. Pátkai Rozina + Benkő Dávid - Partokon

62. Shea Coulee - Let Go

63. Off Night - Young

64. Purity Ring - Neverend

65. Alice Boman + Perfume Genius - Feels Like A Dream 

66. Caterina Barbieri - At Your Gamut

67. Drool - Misery

68. Elefánt - Kardhal

69. Fontaines D.C. - Roman Holiday

70. Tove Lo + SG Lewis - Call On Me

71. Rosalia - Saoko

72. Orson Hentschel - Antenna Window

73. Oliver Sim - Never Here

74. Mykki Blanco + Diana Gordon - Your Love was A Gift

75. Marlon Williams - Promises

76. Local Suicide - Moustache

77. Billie Nomates - Balance is Gone

78. Caroline Polachek - Sunset

79. Cheat Codes + Space Primates + GASHI - Memory

80. Hot Chip - Hard To Be Funky

81. Kathryn Joseph - What is Keeping You Alive Makes Want To Kill Them For

82. Hercules & Love Affair - Grace

83. Jockstrap - Jennifer B

84. Florence + The Machine - King

85. Dillon - <3core

86. XVOTO - Catacumbas

87. Trentemoller - Glow

88. Tanya Tagaq - Teeth Agape - “ Touch my children And my teeth welcome your windpipe...”

89. TAAHLIAH + Tsatsamis - Fall Into Place

90. Sharon Needles - Flamin’ Hot

91. Royksopp + Astrid S - Breathe

92. Q - Stereo Driver

93. Orbital + Sleaford Mods - Dirty Rat

94. Ola Szmidt - C Tactile Afferent

95. Nerina Pallot - Alice At The Beach

96. MO - Live To Survive - “ Watch me, I'm back on my feet. Ready for the century...”

97. Maggie Koerner - Wasted

98. Kilo Kish - SUPER KO LOVE

99. Bodi Bill - Self Improvements

100. Beach House - Superstar

[i-arch-my-backula]

Billy, Stu, Michael (og) with a s/o who’s extremely sensitive to being yelled at? That they’ll start crying? Something I struggle with ☠️

Omg anon this goes for me too. Since I was a kid if I get yelled at my first instinct is to cry. I hate it so so much and I'd love to do this for you. Always down to write some comfort for my boys. Reader is gn

Included are: Billy Loomis, Stu Macher, og Michael Myers

Warnings: Harsh language, yelling, violence, mentions of unhealty relationships, implied murder 

Billy Loomis

You and Billy are at a party. You're not really the party type, unless you know a good amount of people there but you feel better knowing Billy's here. You're talking with a girl Billy introduced you too. Her name is Carrie. You spot your ex River over near the living room. He wasn't the best guy. He was very manipuative and would constantly gaslight you. When he wasn't doing that he was just ignoring you. Whenever you expressed wanting to break up he threatened suicide and would guilt you into staying. You look back to Carrie and hope Billy's gonna be back soon. Unfortunatly for you River comes over and grabs your wrist. "We need to talk now." He says sternly. You squrim in his grip.

"Let go of me."

"No you're going to listen to me Y/N!" He yells, "You're an awful person for what you did to me you know? I loved you and I needed you! How dare you break up with me!" He continues to shout. Carrie yells something at him but you can't hear her. Tears are swelling in your eyes. "God of course, you always hang out with annoying cunts! You're such a useless person without me!" The tears start to fall as your wrist throbs with pain. You sob but it doesn't stop him from pulling you away. As you start walking Billy wraps his arm around you and pulls you away from River. You cry into his shirt as he yells at him.

"Keep your hands off my partner you asshole!"

"Fuck you! They're just some whore who doesn't appriciate a good guy when they meet one! I regret not beating some sense into you!" He gets up in your face and Billy pushes him back. He punches him to the ground and grabs you. He walks you out of the house and drives you back home. Once there he puts ice on your bruised wrist and calls up Stu. He snagged Rivers ID off him before he left. Rivers not gonna hurt anyone anymore.

Stu Macher

You're eating dinner with your parents and Stu. They wanted to meet him and you were stressing the entire day to clean up the house and make it look presentable. Your parents were constantly talking about how much you're failing in life and how your siblings are doing so much better. Stu is clearly upset with them but you keep him calm. "Y/N honey you should have joined the family company. You could make so much more money doing that than writing those silly little horror stories. They aren't very good dear." Your mom comments.

"Neither is this cooking. Are you good at anything besides being a disappointment?" Your father comments. You stay silent. "I asked you a question and you answer me when I ask you something!" Your father raises his voice.

"You can leave if you don't like it that much." You comment. Your mother drops her fork.

"How dare you talk to us like that! We are your parents you selfish brat! We raised you to be better than this! How dare you disrespect us like this!" Your mother shouts. Tears start to form and Stu clears his throat.

"I do think it's best if you two leave." He says.

"You're good for nothing Y/N! I knew we should have put you up for adoption when we had the chance! You're going nowhere in life! You're gonna end up dead in a ditch homeless because of how stupid you are!" Your father shouts. As the tears fall Stu stands up.

"Get the fuck out or I call the cops!" Stu yells. You cover your ears while they yell back and forth but eventually Stu is hugging you, letting you sob into his shirt. "It's ok Y/N. I'm here for you." He rubs his hand on your back and comforts you. He’s already coming up with a plan of his own. 

Michael Myers 

You’re leaving work when you head down an ally you use as a short cut. It’s not an intimidating ally, it’s well lit and pretty wide. “Hey Myers bitch!” You hear a familiar voice call. It’s your coworker Meg. She’s always giving you shit about living in the Myers house. You turn around and glare at her. “I’m upset Michael hasn’t killed you yet. It would really help clean up the town you know?” She says. 

“Leave me alone. Everyone knows about how you harassed that girl to the point she had to go to the hospital. We all know about how you’re a mean bitch who can’t keep a boyfriend.” Meg squints at you. 

“Well guess what hun? I’m not some ugly weirdo who lives in a haunted house! You’re the worst part about this town! Everyone here hates you and you should just let Michael kill you already!” You feel tears stream down your face as she laughs. “Yeah cry hun, cry! We all know that you’re a poor loser who can’t handle being yelled at! Like oh my god fucking grow up you dumb bitch!” You turn and walk away, tears still falling. You hear Meg scream and you look back to see Michael with his hands wrapped around her throat, lifting her up. He keeps her there until she falls limp. He drops her to the ground and walks over to you. He wipes away your tears and walks you back home. 

[prettyboybillyhargrove]

Okay but imagine this. It's a book they read in English class. Billy is in the town after years. He's only here for Max's wedding and gonna turn back to his life in LA next week. He went to that store just to chill out because when he comes back to Hawkins all his memories came back to him too. And he saw Steve leaving the store as he's approaching there. He waited until brunette left, cause he doesn't want to deal with this. He doesn't want to remember all the feelings overflowing from his heart. He closed that chapter years ago. But when Steve leaves he can't help but look at the books the man left behind. And saw that one book. The book they had to read together, the one making Billy realize his feelings for Steve. He buy the book without hesitation and left the store. He can't not have that book. Maybe it'd bring him pain but he can't stop himself from doing it. And just went back home. Forget about the book completely. Until the night before he's leaving. He opens the book and saw all the hand written notes, that they didn't wrote together. No, this were all Steve. Steve's thoughts on the book. Mentioning Billy's name in sentences a lot, but it was all Steve. His eyes scan all the notes and finally found the end of the book. There stands a handwritten letter with a date. Showing the exact date Billy left Hawkins. 04.08.1985. After a month on the hospital, he just left without telling anyone. Not even Max. But mostly not to Steve. They were a thing back than, st least that was what Billy thought at the time. Not officially, but something. They had something until Steve left him alone on that hospital bed. The letter was messy and there were tear stains in the page.

"Dear Billy. You moved away and take my heart with you. You left me all broken. All alone in this town. And I can't even be mad at you. I know you'll never see this, and I'll never see you again. So I had to do it. I had to write it down or I was gonna explode. I loved you Billy. With a passion I didn't realize I had. With so much heart that it even made me shocked. You changed me, improved me. In the best way possible. I grew with you. My heart grew with you. I was by your side this past month. Waiting for you to wake up. But when you do. When you open that ocean eyes and looked at me all confused. Wondering why I, of all people is there by your side. I realized two things; first, you were my life. You were the first sunlight that hit my face in the morning. You were the stars brighten my night, always by my side, never leaving me alone. You were the bane of my existence. Second and most importantly, I wasn't a part of your life, I never was. You never saw me as I see you. You never knew my heart or share it. You didn't love me. And never will. So I walked away. I walked away thinking that's the best for you. And I know it's gonna sound selfish but it was the best for me Billy. I couldn't deal with another heart break. I told myself that every night. But it didn't stop from breaking. It's breaking every night, every second since you left. It hurts so much sometimes I cry about it. I regret every second of my life without you by my side. I regret leaving you that day. I regret letting you go. I regret not following you after you left. But this is my promise to myself. I'm leaving you behind today. This is my first and last confession to you Billy Hargrove. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. Farewell, my love that was never mine."

[whereyabeenloca]

If anyone else feels like fucking crying, I had the itch to write Max Mayfield’s letters. A friend told me to post this, if y’all like them I will publish the others, but here is Max’s hypothetical letter she wrote to Lucas:

Dear Lucas,

Hi Lucas,

Hi. I have truly no fucking clue how to start this. I’ve never really written any letters before, except for class assignments, but not really to any of my friends. I guess I’m going to get lots of practice today, so I better start getting good. But you’re my first letter, so. Bear with me, okay?

The day I met you, I thought you were probably the biggest dork I have ever met in my life. I mean, serious nerd. You and Will and Mike and Dustin were nothing like the kids back in California. Like, at all. Your stupid Ghostbusters costume were kind of cool, I guess. But I definitely never expected to get here, with you, with all of us.

You told me that one day in the arcade that I needed to accept the risk of knowing. And I didn’t really think about the consequences of that at the time obviously. But now here I am. Thinking about the consequences of that risk. And you want to know something? If I knew back then what that meant, like I could flash forward into the future and see everything that has happened, and where it’s lead, I think I would do it again. I think I would still choose to know and still end up here because you all have changed my life. You have changed my life.

You were my first kiss. Yeah, I know, that’s pretty lame. But I don’t know if you ever knew that, and figured I would just tell you because well, I just want to. You were my first boyfriend, first anything I guess. First person I ever loved. And not like, family love or friend love but that I actually really love. Loved? I don’t know. Things are so complicated and I just didn’t really know what to do after Billy. I hate myself for just standing there. I really do. I hate that I froze, that I didn’t do anything, I just stood and watched, like a fucking coward.

And I didn’t know how to tell anybody about what it felt like. Losing someone who was so shitty to me my whole life, and then they decide at the very last moment to be a good person? To sacrifice themselves for me, and the fate of the world? It didn’t make sense. I felt like it should have been me. I should have done more to protect everyone. I should have done more to protect all of you. But I didn’t. And I have never been a coward ever in my life, and that was the moment I chose to be? I don’t know. Seems pretty fucking stupid.

I guess I’m just trying to tell you this because I want you to understand you didn’t do anything wrong. You could be a total doofus and ignorant about girls and shit. But I didn’t break up with you because of you, I did it because of me. Because I thought it would be safer than getting even more attached to you, to everyone, that I didn’t want to ruin what a good person you’ve always been because you’re so good. You’re so sweet. I felt like I was some kind of parasite, leeching that goodness off of you, and just putting all my hate and guilt on your shoulders. And you didn’t deserve that.

I’ve really missed you this past year. Yeah, it sucks the end of the world is happening, but I’m happy it gave me a reason to talk to you again. To hang out, like we used to. I don’t think I ever stopped being in love with you. It made me sad that you felt like you needed to “prove yourself”, that you’re cool. Because I thought you were pretty cool just being you. But I heard about what happened, at your game, the night Chrissy died. On the radio. That Lucas Sinclair made the winning shot. And I’m sorry I wasn’t there for it, because I bet it was pretty fucking awesome.

Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for being my boyfriend. Thank you for being this weird ex-thing that still wants to hangout with me, and save the world one more fucking time. I hope it’s the last. I hope we make it out on the other side. But just in case I don’t, I want you to know that you’ve been the best part of my life. Like, my whole life. More than skateboarding, more than music, more than anything. You made my life worth living. And I’m really glad I got to know you. Don’t ever change to impress people, okay? Because who you are already is amazing. I just want you to know that.

Thank you,

Love,

From,

Max.

[winters-sketches]

OKAUOKAU so um... you got any Heromari songs? Like, songs they'd sing to each other?

Aushsndbffn I think I HAD a few but I forget what they were hold on let me find them—

okay okay okay

Dear Daphne; Ghost Mari watching over Hero, especially during his depression…

Stay with me Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head Stay with me Remember the things that I said Till then, I'll keep holding your head Your head

I have seen so much of me in you But only the pages I threw away From my story You don't need That kind of black and blue Marking up your heart Bleeding through all of your pages

—

Someone You Like, this one is really cute aaa a a agh h h h, I can totally see them singing this together <3

I might never be your hero Never been one to fight That don't mean that I can't be your Valentine I won't be your savior either Couldn't even if I tried But I think I could be someone you like Someone you like

i should totally make an animatic of this one it's so CUTE

—

Always is another one that just. makes me go a a a aa a a a a a a because it's wholesome but part of it's also sad and just. a a A A A A

I'm a fly that is trapped in a web But I'm thinking that my spider's dead Lonely, lonely little life I could kid myself in thinking that I'm fine

It was always you falling for me Now there's always time calling for me I'm the light blinking at the end of the road Blink back to let me know

That I'm skin and bone Just a king and a rusty throne Oh, the castle's under siege But the sign outside says, "Leave me alone"

—

and naturally, back to your regularly scheduled angst because i am a menace, i love you...

Up all night on another red eye I wish we never learned to fly Maybe we should just try To tell ourselves a good lie I didn't mean to make you cry

Maybe won't you take it back? Say you were tryna make me laugh And nothin' has to change today You didn't mean to say, "I love you" I love you and I don't want to

The smile that you gave me Even when you felt like dyin'

i've definitely posted about this one before but it's so GOOD

—

and finally, Photograph! wholesome bittersweet angst for the win and I can totally imagine Hero singing this one about Mari

We keep this love in a photograph We made these memories for ourselvesWhere our eyes are never closing Hearts are never broken And time's forever frozen, still

So you can keep me Inside the pocket of your ripped jeans Holding me closer 'til our eyes meet You won't ever be alone, wait for me to come home

—

good songs. may make me cry at any point but they remind me of the beloveds

[multifandomingmess]

How I Feel About Stranger Things Season 4 Vol 2

Beware, spoilers will be mentioned. If you do not want to read spoilers, do not proceed below the line. Thank you.

I'm going to be blunt. I was let down by the second volume. I pretty much loved the first volume but the second volume... All over the place. First off, SINCE WHEN WAS ELEVEN ABLE TO REVERSE DEATH? Max died but Eleven was able to reverse the death. Max IS in a coma but she's alive. If Eleven has always had this ability, so many people could've been saved, including Barbara, Bob, Billy, Alexei, Chrissy, etc.

Then, I understand Max's feelings towards Billy and that a part of her DID wanted him DEAD but I felt like they COMPLETELY recanted the letter from "Dear Billy" because there's no way that Max was faking those tears. There's no way that Max faked her emotions. There's no way that Max faked grieving. There's no way that Max was faking being su!c!dal. For example, when Vecna pretends to be Billy, we see him say as Billy, "And why, late at night, you have sometimes wished to follow me. Follow me into death. That is why I am here, Max. To end your suffering, once and for all."

Like, I understand, Billy is a terrible person and I am not defending that - however, he was abused. He still was abused by his father. He wasn't a former victim, he was still a victim of abuse. Obviously, I wish he didn't continue that cycle of abuse, but to me, if Steve can change his sexist and emotionally abusive ways - Billy could have, too. Billy was 17. He was still a kid. Everyone can grow. Then again, I tend to always think the positive in complex situations. That's a good and a bad thing.

Anyways, I also do not understand the hatred for metalheads that the Duffer brothers have. First, we lose Billy (if you do not like Billy, that's fine. Please do not make a comment because I do not want any fighting. You're valid.) and now Eddie?! I don't even think the Duffer Brother's realize how much hyperfixtations mean to people. A lot of neurodivergent people use comfort characters as a way to cope so this is going to be painful for a lot of people. It is painful. I cried like a baby. It made me think of July 2019, when I watched Billy sacrifice himself. Then, here we are, it's July 2022 and here we have Eddie sacrificing himself. It's ridiculous.

Also, I want to understand if the people who died from a creature of the upside-down (or anything related to it) actually die or if they go to the realm that Henry/001 went into.

The queerbaiting is full-force yet again. We heard all of those interviews and articles about how they planned to address his sexuality during this volume but all I saw was Will crying. I saw him lie and promote Mileven by saying El commissioned the painting. However, Mike knew that El said, "Will is painting something for someone he likes." and Mike didn't even acknowledge it. He didn't remember that letter because he was so caught up in this "romance" will Eleven. Like, I obviously don't think Mike has feelings for Will, but I would love to see an openly gay character on the show, besides Robin. I love to see the representation.

The lack of memories and flashbacks from Max's childhood also hurt me. Eleven was in Max's mind. Max was possessed by Vecna during this.

This part is very off-topic but this is about the whole Billy situation. Yes, the Duffer's wrote Billy's character to be racist, well specifically Ross. Matt didn't. They wanted Dacre to say the n-word. Dacre refused. Both Dacre and Caleb said that they never thought Billy's intentions were related to Lucas' race but because he has this urge to protect Max but it's not in a healthy way, obviously. It could relate to how he wasn't ever to help his mother as a child. The Duffer's also originally planned to make Steve r*pe Nancy in the pilot. This was confirmed by Joe Keery himself. So, these topics were brought up by the writers. Some people don't even know that the Duffer brother's are problematic. They have allegations of verbal abuse to female crew-members. They are very privileged. There are people on Reddit who pointed this out during BTS videos. Specifically, "Beyond Stranger Things"

Anyways, I prefer to respect the actor's version of their character. They're the ones who get into the mindset and head of the character. They know their character inside and out. Dacre was the one who was able to get more of a backstory for Billy in Season 3. So, yeah, I prefer the actor's perspective vs. the writers because some people don't realize how problematic the Duffer's are. Yes, they're talented writers but that is all. I'm sure they are kind and they may not be as bad as people make them out to be.

So, that's my personal thoughts about Volume 2. I liked it, I didn't hate it but there were lots of problems within the storyline. I'm not even sure how they're going to do a time jump with the current storyline of the town being split into four.