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[staticscreenwriting]

the same sunset  - chapter three

Chapter three - trashed

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The music sounding from Carol’s house can be heard all the way to the other end of the street where Billy parks his car in the driveway that leads to nowhere. It seems there has once been a house there but now it’s just a deserted spot being used by teenager to park their cars whenever Carol decides it’s time to throw another rager.

Walking down the street towards the party, Billy can’t help but admire the confidence Cleo seems to emmit. It’s different to his. His is fake and take all the effort in the world to uphold. Hers seems to come natural. No effort at all.

“ You know “ she speaks up as they’re just a few houses away from Carol’s “ you can go in first if you want. They’re gonna talk if they see us arrive together. And I’ll have you know, as hard as it is to believe, I am not the most popular person. So if you don’t wanna ruin that cool brooding bad boy persona you have going on, I understand. They don’t need to see us together. “

“ Don’t make a big deal of it, then they won’t “ Billy replies. Back in California he was a different person. People there had known him since childhood and with them he didn’t ever really have to think about any image he wanted to uphold. He was just Billy. His mullet, the camaro, the music and the jeans. Those were just things that belonged to him as much as Max’ red hair belonged to her. They mean different things now.

In California he was Billy first, all the other things came with him.

Here they saw the car first, the outfits, the attitude. The loud music and the constant unbothered look etched onto his face. And from that they made up their own image of who he was. And it worked in his favor really. He’s adored by the girls and admired by most boys. And if that means he has to pretend not to be bothered by shit than so be it. Seeming numb is easy. He’s gotten a lot of practice at home.

“ Oh boy, you’re so not a small town boy. “ Cleo says and skips ahead of him a few steps, giving Billy a perfect view of her ass in jeans that are fitting like a god-damn glove. He can’t suppress a smirk, thinking back to Pete’s disapproving look back at the diner.

There’s a red solo cup pushed into his hand as soon as Billy enters the house. That awful “I Ran” song is blasting through the stereo and Billy remembers the reason he usually gets shitfaced at Carol’s parties. The music sucks.

Cleo walks further into the room and is swallowed by the crowd before Billy can figure out where she’s going. Only a mess of blonde hair visible as she squeezes herself between the dancing teenagers.

“ You know, when you asked me about her I just thought you were curious. Didn’t think you were into her “.

Of course it’s Tommy who hands Billy the drink, he’s probably been sitting by the door waiting for him to show up. It’s a little sad really, Tommy’s been following Billy around like a lost puppy from day one. But then again, no matter how annoying or clingy he is, Tommy is not a bad guy. He’s just not the brightest crayon in the box but Billy can deal with that. Also he’s Billy’s walking encyclopedia on all things Hawkins High and always knows when and where the parties are happening.  

“ Shut up, man. It’s not like that. I uh — I work at her dad’s diner. We were just carpooling here. That’s it”.

“ You have a job ? “ Tommy asks dumbfounded. His eyebrows are raised in question and for a moment it makes Billy angry.

“ We don’t all have a dad who blows money up our ass and buys everything for us, Tommy “

It’s a little harsh, Billy admits that, but that doesn’t make it any less true. Tommy’s dad is the owner of some big ass lumber yards all over Indiana, dispensing wood to all kinds of high class furniture stores to make fancy sofas for fancy people, like Tommy’s dad.

Billy’s met him a few times and he seems to have zero backbone and the personality of a sponge but his wallet is wide open. Probably to make him feel better about not giving a proper shit about his son. As long as Tommy doesn’t get too out of line, his dad doesn’t really pay him any attention. He’s supposed to take over the business someday in the future. That’s the end game. Everything until then doesn’t really matter.

“ Hey sorry, man. That’s not what I meant. I think it’s cool you’re working. Do you think you can get us a discount if we come around ? “

Billy only shakes his head, a smirk finding a way onto his lips again. Tommy’s a fucking nuisance most of the time, like everything and everyone in this place. But he’s honest and Billy can appreciate that a whole lot.

“ Dunno. “

As he takes a drink from the cup, Billy immediately regrets his decision. It tastes like Cranberry juice and disappointment. Whatever vodka concoction they’ve mixed together, it fucking blows. Like a prom punch spiked by some over enthusiastic junior.  

“ Thomas, show me where the beers are and we can see about that discount “ Billy says and throws his arm around Tommy’s shoulder. If he was gonna enjoy this party, bad music and shitty drinks and all, he needs beer. Lots of it.

- OOO -

Billy’s hands softly trail down the path of Erika Kapelsky’s curves. There’s some Bon Jovi song playing over the speakers and she seems to go wild on that stuff. Her ass has been rubbing his crotch for the last 5 minutes. At this point he is 99.9% sure he’s gonna score big time. He’s heard she gives great head. That she’s flexible too.

“ I’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick. Take me home when I come back ? Parents are on a business trip “ she murmures into his ear and softly bites his lobe as she pulls away.

That’s the good thing about rich kids, Billy thinks. Their parents are always on some uber important trips for work. It’s like they’re preaching abstinence and safe sex and then do everything in their power to make sure their kids get laid as much as possible. Like leaving them alone in a big ass mansion.

“ Sure “ he agrees and watches her walk away, hips swaying dramatically. She knows how to put on a show.

“ Erica huh ? Nice one, dude “ it’s like as soon as he is alone Tommy gravitates back towards Billy. Sometimes it makes him feel like he has an actual friend. Other times it’s just annoying.

“ Yeah “ as Billy looks towards the door Erica has just disappeared through, his eyes catch movement coming from the hallway next to it.

The big mess of blonde curls on Cleo’s head is bobbing up and down as Cleo hurries down the hallway. There’s stains of what Billy assumes is the shitty prom punch all over her shirt and she’s … crying ?

He doesn’t know for sure but she’s angry that’s obvious. Her lips are pulled into a scowl and her eyebrows are furrowed. She squeezes her way through the crowd and towards the door.

For a moment Billy wants to follow. Wants to figure out what happened, if she’s crying and why. He doesn’t though.

Not his mess. Not his problem.

That’s something his dad always says. It’s a motto that’s been drilled into Billy’s head ever since he was a kid.

He remembers when he was just a little boy, maybe 5 years old. Back in California when his mom was still alive. They didn’t have shit back then but a tiny house and a rusty old car. His mom was working at a beach hut in the mornings, selling overpriced postcards and plastic seashell necklaces to tourists. Dad was constantly between jobs, saying that he just hadn’t found the right one yet. Truth is, no one wants to hire a raging alcoholic.

They didn’t have much back then but Billy liked the house, liked the neighbourhood, because there were kids there. One of them was Gracie Tempers. She lived across the street and she came over to Billy’s house a lot because her mom was working late and Billy’s mom was home in the afternoon to have an eye on the kids.

Gracie’s mom would always come and pick her up, never her dad. And she always had a cup of coffee with Billy’s mom. She was crying a lot but back then little Billy had no idea what was going on. She had a lot of black eyes too.

One night Billy couldn’t sleep so he snuck towards the kitchen, hoping to find his mother still awake so he could ask for a warm milk with some honey, his mom’s special.

Instead he found mom and dad arguing, again. When he heard Mrs. Tempers’ name he decided to hide behind the door and listen. They were yelling. Actually it was mostly his dad. Actually it was only his dad. His mom was talking in a quiet hushed voice. So timid. So scared. She wanted to help Mrs. Tempers. Wanted to “ call the cops “ Billy didn’t know what was going on then and he didn’t know if that was a good thing. Mom always said the police was someone you could go to whenever you needed help. Dad called them corrupt pigs.

Anyway. She wanted to call the cops and “get her away from him”. Billy didn’t know who “he” was either.

But no matter how hard she was pleading, how reasonable she was explaining. Dad’s booming voice kept repeating “ This is not your mess, Rebecca ! Not your problem ! “.

Cleo isn’t’ his mess either. Isn’t his problem.

So instead of going after her, Billy turns back towards the door waiting for Erica to be done so he can take her home and create a whole different kind of mess.

- OOO -

The cold air nips at Cleo’s nose as she walks down the street of this seemingly perfect suburban hell.

She should’ve known better. That’s the bottom line of it all. Should’ve known that showing up with Billy Hargrove would cause unwanted attention. Negative attention. That people would take it as some kind of threat to their social status.

Tina has always been a mean person. Someone that doesn’t lash out but observes. She schemes and calculates and figures out where to hit people so it hurts the most and leaves the most damage.

And whether she does it just out of pure spite or because she has some deep rooted insecurities that she wants to hide behind her malice, Cleo doesn’t know. In the end, it doesn’t matter anyway.

What matters is that Cleo should’ve known better. Billy is all Tina wanted since the moment he stepped foot onto the grounds of Hawkins High. And when Tina feels even a little threatened in getting what she wants, she knows exactly how to retaliate.

Cleo roughly wipes away the tears still rolling down her cheeks. Tina’s opinion shouldn’t matter. Her words shouldn’t matter. And really, they don’t. That doesn’t mean they don’t hurt.

And it’s not even the stuff about Cleo that hurt. It’s the stuff she said about her mom. Those things cut deep. Those things, Tina really doesn’t know shit about. But the worst thing ? Carol stood there and she said nothing and she did nothing. Just turned away as if she hadn’t held Cleo’s hand at her mother’s grave. As if she didn’t take care of her when she had a panic attack the night before the funeral.

As if she hadn’t been an important part of her life for so long. For the good times, but especially the bad times.

Sure they aren’t friends anymore, fair enough. But does that mean all that once was is erased and means nothing anymore ?

The air stings against Cleo’s bare arms, clings to the wet patches on her shirt. This night is a complete and utter mess and she should’ve known better.

There’s a light still burning on the porch and one in the living room. No matter how easy going her dad always pretends to be, he’s still a dad. A dad who acts like he got caught up watching old football games but really deliberately stays up to make sure his girl is getting home okay.

On one hand, Cleo is eternally grateful for the wonderful dad she has. On the other hand, it makes hiding stuff so much harder. Like tear stained cheeks. And punch soaked shirts. And anger. And sadness.

“ Hey kid, I — Cleo ? “ the smile on her dad’s face immediately falls as he takes note of her obvious misery.

“ It’s not as bad as it looks. I’m okay, can we — can we not talk about it ?”

Ever since Cleo was a kid, mom was responsible for the emotional stuff. The long talks and the cheering up. For the rough stuff. The sad stuff.

Dad was the goof who went and bought entirely too much ice cream and put on her favorite movie even though they’d all seen it a million times before.

Ever since her mom was dead, that kind of shifted. Dad had to be both, the goof and the emotional support system. And it is weird for everyone involved. Neither Cleo nor her dad are particularly good at talking about their feelings so after a while they put a system in place that seems to work for them both.

If one doesn’t talk about it on their own accord, no questions are being asked. It’s easier that way. Or maybe they just pretend it’s easier. Either way, Cleo is grateful about that system right now. Because how would she even begin to explain that it all starts and ends with that fact that her mother would still be alive if it wasn’t for her ?

“ Uh — yeah sure. Sure. “

“ Cool, thanks “ she nods and walks towards the stairs. As she is about to round the corner, her dad’s voice echoes through the halls, calling out to her.

“ Cleo ? “

“ Huh ? “

“ There’s some mint chocolate chip ice cream in the freezer. Just — just if you need it. “

And for the first time since running into Tina, a small smile finds its way onto Cleo’s face.

- OOO -

Billy’s head feels like exploding. Like he’s in a comic and a big ass anvil has been dropped down on him.

The morning sun is shining brightly but the air is cold as he climbs out of Erika’s bedroom window and walks down the street lined by identical houses with identical white fences. There’s perfectly cut lawns, even in the winter, and the frost clings onto the grass making it glimmer in the sun.

The mailboxes are pridefully displaying the names of the families, some of which Billy recognizes from school. Of course people would want others to know they live here. These houses are massive.

He wonders if the people here are genuinely happy or if they have to play pretend, just like he does. He wonders if things were different would his family live in one of these houses. If Neil wasn’t such a fuck up and actually had a proper job that could provide the family with a better living situation, would he be less angry? Would Billy be ?

After a few minutes of passing big ass houses and pristine lawns and picket fences and artsy mailboxes, he arrives at his car.

There’s noticeably less cars here now than there were last night. Next to his Camaro is Tommy’s car which means he’s probably stayed over at Carol’s last night. Whatever those two have, Billy thinks, is a big old mess. They’re constantly at each other’s throats. Either fighting or making out. It’s exhausting for him, and he’s only watching from the sidelines.

Billy slumps down into the driver’s seat of his beloved Camaro. It smells like leather and cigarettes and honestly, it’s a smell that’s become incredibly comforting to him. His car is so much more than just a status symbol. It’s his way out. His escape. When things at home get too bad he can always get in his car and drive around. Aways from the yelling. Away from his father’s anger.

Away from home.

He turns towards the passenger side of his car, itching for a cigarette and hoping to find on in the glove compartment. Instead he’s faced with Cleo’s denim jacket discarded on his passenger seat.

He wants to ignore it. Pretend it isn’t there and just wait for her to come and get it. That’s another thing you learn in the Hargrove household. Don’t let your shit lying around or it’s gone. Neil never had any respect for any of Billy’s things so if he wasn’t being careful with it, Neil would just throw it in the trash.

He wants to ignore Cleo’s jacket so badly. But he can’t. He doesn’t.

- OOO -

The Finch’s two story home is painted a pale blue color. There’s paint chipping from the doorframes and the windows. The front yard looks clean enough but it’s not even close to the front yards he’s seen in Carol’s neighbourhood.

Their little white mailbox says “Finch” in what seems to be the handwriting of a young child. There’s 4 handprints. One big one that he bets belongs to Pete. A bright red one that he can only imagine belongs to a slightly younger version of Cleo. There’s a teeny tiny one that he’s sure is Charlie’s. Then there’s another one. It’s smaller than Pete’s but only slightly bigger than Cleo’s.

His heart drops a little at the realization of who’s handprint it is.

He wonder how she does it. How she lives through losing her mother and doesn’t end up resenting the whole world for it, like he does. He wonders if things would be different if Neil wasn’t such a piece of shit and actually gave a damn about Billy and his grief and this perpetual feeling of anger and bitterness. If he had someone like Pete in his life, would things be — ok ?

His mind drifts back to Cleo’s words from that time in the diner when she made them grilled cheese “Things are rough all over”. Maybe they are. Maybe they’re rougher for some though.

Denim jacket grasped tightly on one hand, Billy walks up the porch steps towards the door with the chipped white paint and rings the doorbell. He doesn’t know what to say to Cleo when she answers, if she answers. It’s not like he cares about her particularly much or about the fact that she was klutzy enough to leave her jacket, in the middle of November no less.

He’s not sure why he’s here in the first place. Maybe because her crying face has sneaked it’s way into the back of his mind every one in a while since last night.

Or maybe because he feels guilty for not bringing her home safe as he had told Pete he would.

Or maybe because he was curious about what happened.

Or maybe all of the above.

Though it’s not Cleo that opens the door. It’s a wild mop of bright red hair and a smile missing one tooth.

“ Billy ? “ Charlie asks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“ Hey. ‘s Cleo home ? “

“ No. Why ? “

He hated being questioned. There’s hardly any privacy at home. Every part of his life seems to be considered public property to Neil. Secrets are dangerous. So when you are asked, you either answer or you face the consequences.

“ She left her jacket in my car. Hey where is she ? “

“ What does it matter ? “

“ I wanna give it back “

“ You can just leave it here. She’ll be back home eventually. “

Charlie seemed nice enough for a kid that one time he met her, but Billy can’t deny that right now she’s seriously testing his patience.

“ I know I can but I want to give it to her personally. If that’s okay with you of course. “ he snaps at her and immediately feels bad as he sees the sliver of uncertainty and — fear in her eyes.

“ Look — “ he starts and pinches the bridge of his nose “ — I let her leave the party alone last night and I feel bad about it, okay ? So just tell me where she is and I’ll give this thing back and say sorry and then we can go back to seeing each other at work and that’s it .”

Charlie bites her lip in uncertainty. Billy can see her considering all options. Finally settling on the thought that her sister deserves an apology if Billy is willing to give one, Charlie grants him a small smile and replies “ you know where the old junk yard is ? “

- OOO -

The november sun stands high up in the sky when Billy arrives at the junkyard. There’s a lot of shit lying around. Mostly tires and bottles, pieces of wood, half gutted cars and a variety of metal signs that seem like the used to decorate the shop fronts of Hawkin’s downtown once upon a time.

He spots Cleo the moment he steps out of his car. She’s in a pair of ripped jeans and a gray sweater that looks 2 sizes too big for her and falls off of one shoulder. Her blond curls are pulled into a messy ponytail but a few strands have escaped and frame the side of her face.

The thing that makes him wonder though, is the baseball bat clutched rightly in her hand.

He can her Black Sabbath playing loudly from small radio propped up on an old oil drum.

The pebbles are crunching beneath his boots as he approaches her and when she lifts her head, Billy can see nothing but annoyance in her eyes.

“ The hell are you doing here ? “ she asks, her voice rid of all her usually bubbliness.

“ You left your jacket in my car. You know, where I come from girls do that to make boy call them back. “ he says and smirks. He knows that wasn’t her intention but if there’s an opportunity to tease, Billy sure as hell isn’t gonna let it go.

“ Well here it just means that I forgot my jacket. Sorry to hurt your ego. “

“ Oh it doesn’t. Trust me. “

His gaze moves from her towards the baseball bat, then back to her. “ What the hell are you even doing with that thing ? “

Billy can see the smirk pulling at the corner of her lips. It’s tiny and barely there but he can notice it anyway.

“ Break stuff. “

She accompanies her words with a swing of the bat , slamming it into one of the rusting cars. There’s the crashing of metal and glass and the music all mixing together to create a melody of absolute chaos.

Cleo pulls back again and places another hit against the vehicle. Then another. And a fourth before she blows one of the stray curly away from her face and glances at Billy through the corner of her eye “ you wanna try ? “

He shrugs and takes the bat from her hand. “ You gotta make it count though. “

“ The hit ? “

“ Mmh “ Cleo nods then hoists herself up on the hood of another car.

And Billy makes it count. Not the first time. But when Cleo calls out to him to “ think of something that makes you really fucking angry “ he puts his all in the hit.

He thinks of his mother dying. His friends who don’t bother calling. His dad. All of it. Everything. 

It’s like with every time the bat descends onto the metal, his shoulders feel a little lighter. Like he gets to let go of his anger for a moment there and channel it all into the task of destroying the damn car. It’s what it feels like whenever he gets into fights only without the stupid consequences.

“ Feels good ? “ Cleo asks, sipping on a bottle of what he assumes is beer.

And when he looks up at her he can’t help but smile. Genuinely smile “ feels awesome! “

- OOO -

The two teens are lounging on the hood of an old Cadillac from the 50s sipping on their beers and watching the sun slowly set behind the trees. The junkyard sits atop a hill and you can just make out the outskirts of Hawkins from up here.

“ Why’d you come ? You could’ve just left the jacket at my place and leave. “ Cleo asks, eyes trained on the horizon.

“ What do I know. Thought I owed you this much. “

“ Why would you owe me ? “ she still doesn’t look at him but as Billy glances at her, he can see her pull her eyebrows together in confusion.

“ I saw you crying and I — ugh I don’t know okay ? Just wanted to see if you’re alright. Don’t make a big deal of it. “

She doesn’t. It makes her smile anyway.

“ Well thanks “

“ Whatever. “

For a moment it’s silent then Billy speaks up again.

“ What was that about anyway ? The whole crying thing ? “

“ They talked shit about my mom “ Cleo says and takes the last sip from the bottle before throwing it against the mount of trash making it break into little pieces.

“ That sucks. She’s dead right ? “ It might sound heartless and brash to some but Billy hates it when people sugarcoat stuff to him for no reason and something tells her Cleo isn’t that different when it comes down to it.

“ Yup. Yours too, huh ? “

Billy nods “ Yeah “

“ What happened ? “

“ Cancer. Yours ? “

“ Car accident. “

“ Fuck. “

“ Yes. Fuck. “

Billy turns his head to the side so he’s facing her and Cleo follows suit soon after.

“ That why you come here to break shit ? “ he questions, taking his last sip of beer then following Cleo’s earlier action of breaking the bottle against the pile of trash.

“ I was — so frustrated. With everything. I knew Tina was gonna talk smack when she sees me showing up with you but deliberately bringing up my dead mother to hurt me ? That’s low. “

“ That’s fucked up. “

“ That’s a highschool girl who feels threatened “

Billy lets out a humourless laugh “ It’s not fair though. She doesn’t know what the hell it feels like to lose your mom. You shouldn’t have to deal with her using that to hurt you just because she thinks her pussy is some kind of otherworldly experience that gives her the power to rule this trash pile of a town. For the record, it’s not. “

Cleo snickers and Billy thinks she looks fucking cute when she does it.

“ Can I ask you something ? “ Billy wonders, looking at Cleo expectandly.

“ I guess. “

“ Are you angry ? Because I — I don’t think I have felt anything but anger in so long. I’m so mad at god or the universe of whatever. Whatever is responsible for taking my mom away. My dad — Neil, he’s an absolute asshole. Always has been but mom — mom was good. So why did it happen to her ? It makes no sense and it drives me insane to think about it. It makes me so so furious. “

“ What makes you think I’m not angry ? “

“ You don’t seem angry. “

“ Well I am. I just — life needs to go on, you know. I gotta help dad with the diner and make sure Charlie is happy and healthy. I am angry I just literally do not have the time to dwell on that feeling. “

It makes sense, he think. Back in California life was shit too but he had friends there and stuff to do to take his mind off of things. Hawkins is quiet and empty and boring and his mind gets all the time in the world to think about the sad stuff. The shit that makes him angry.

“ Well look at us sharing sob stories like some kind of dead-moms-club. “ he scoffs but allows a little smile to tug at the corner of his lips which grants him a smile from Cleo in return.

“ Oh shut up, Billy “

And as her laughter echoes through the air and he looks up towards the November sky, he doesn’t feel so angry anymore, at least not for that moment. He’s not happy either but he’s content. And maybe that’s all he can ever ask for. To not feel angry all the time. To get a single moment of relieve. Of lightness. Of ease. Of laughter.

[staticscreenwriting]

the same sunset - Chapter 1

Chapter 1 - Whole Lotta Love 

The loud roaring of an engine breaks through the silence as Billy Hargrove races along the dimly lit streets of Hawkins Indiana. It’s like one minute the light rain covered the small town in a veil of peace and serenity and the next it’s broken by the sound of a camaro and Led Zeppelin’s Whole Lotta Love blasting from the car radio and one angry boy screaming along and thumping his hands against the steering wheel to the beat of the song.

Billy feels the adrenaline rushing through his veins, from racing, from the party he’s just come from and from fighting Mitchel Greenfield. From living recklessly. From feeling alive. From feeling something — anything.

He’s going too fast and he’s way too intoxicated but there’s not stopping now. Not when he feels like this, untouchable. What else could he want from a night ? He was the center of attention at the party, held his keg stand record, got his dick sucked by not one but two girls, got to put rich boy Mitchel in his place and to top it all off he got to rub it all in Steve Harrington’s face.

He can’t let this feeling die. Not ever. Especially not tonight.

Not tonight.

As those thoughts run through his mind he can feel the euphoric frenzy drain from his system. The excitement and the buzz make way for what’s actually going on inside of him and he hates it. All night he’s been trying to push that to the back of his mind, numb it with reckless abandon. He’s been chasing highs to keep the lows at bay. And yet they’re creeping back in.

So he’s pushing down harder on the gas pedal. The world around him passes by in a blur of lights and shadows. Trees and trees and more trees. Fields. Cows. A Pumpkin patch. Then there’s houses, mostly small ones. Not cute and homely like his used to be back in California. No they’re all dull and sad looking. Just like the one he’s living in right now. Just like the people here.

Billy hates this town and everyone in it. It’s all pretend here. Perfectly happy nuclear families living their perfectly happy lives only they’re all miserable. All of them.

There’s some diner at the end of the road, he knows Carol and Tommy go there on their soppy date nights. Supposedly the burgers are good but what do these Hillbillies know about good burgers anyway ?

He’s going too fast. He notices this as the street curves right and his clammy hands grip the steering wheel tightly trying to steer the car in the right direction only for it to slither and swerve on the wet asphalt.

If this is how it ends, Billy thinks, at least he’s going out loud and fast. Then he chastises himself for being so fucking dramatic. Then he hears the crunch of the gravel beneath the wheels. Then the scraping of metal against metal as his baby smashes right into the red ford truck that’s parked in front of the diner.

And then it’s quite again. There’s just the rain and the night and the quiet town of Hawkins Indiana blissfully unaware of how fucked up everything around here really is.

It’s really kind of ironic, Billy thinks as he wipes away the blood dripping from his nose where his head hit the steering wheel, almost dying on his own birthday.

He doesn’t get out of the car. Doesn’t even care about the damage he’s caused. He just wants to sleep and mute the throbbing inside his head. He’s so tired suddenly. Completely exhausted. So when he closes his eyes for a mere second, he’s out like a light.

Light breaks through the fogged up window of his car as Billy’s eyes open slowly. His head is still throbbing, maybe even more so and it takes a moment for him to remember why and how he ended up here. When realization sets in, his heart sinks.

He’s caused an accident. His first ever accident. If there was one thing Billy always prided himself with, it was his unwavering ability to drive recklessly and not cause any harm or damage. Apparently he wasn’t even good at that after all, Neil might have a point in his constant belittling of Billy.

Oh shit, Neil.

At the thought of his dad finding out about what happened, Billy’s heart speeds up, he starts to feel insanely hot and extremely cold at the same time. His hands get clammy and he feels like someone is continuously putting pressure on his chest. Suddenly the car feels too small, too contained like there’s no room to breath.

When he get out and takes in the air, still heavy with morning dew and fog, it feels like his lungs don’t even expand all the way. It’s all shallow breaths and quick thumping heart.

He thinks this is what he should’ve felt like last night when the accident happened, when he could’ve actually died. But no, he was strangely calm then. Death seems like the easy way out compared to dealing with the shit he’s gotten himself into now. Compared to confessing this to his dad. Death seems easy compared to living.

Billy’s eyes wander towards the red truck that he’s crashed into. The entire drivers side of the car is fucked up. There’s a huge dent, pieces are missing or broken and everything is just a whole entire mess.

Billy Hargrove doesn’t cry a lot but, especially in public, but in this moment all he wants to do is break down and sob. His eyes are already watering and his breaths are still shallow. He thinks he might be having a panic attack.

How the fuck is he supposed to explain this to Neal ? It’s impossible. He can already feel the sting on his cheek. He wonders what story to tell people in school when they wonder about the inevitable black eye.

There’s so much going on inside him at that moment. Above all, he’s scared. It feels like time stands still and moves in lightning speed at the same time. His heart stopped and thumps a mile a minute. He’s numb and yet he’s on high alert. Maybe dying would’ve been the easy part.

“ Well good morning sunshine “ a deep voice speaks up from behind Billy.

As he turns around his eyes meet those of a stranger. He’s a tall burly man with a thick beard that’s slightly but surely turning from a dirty blond to a silver grey. He’s intimidating in stature but his eyes don’t look angry as much as they look determined.

“ That’s my car you smashed there “ Pete continues as Billy stays unresponsive except for his eyes who seem to latch onto every word Pete is saying, as if it takes a moment for Billy to fully register them as they come.

“ Thought you was dead for a second but then I noticed you were just dead asleep. You wanna tell me what happened there ? “

Where the fuck did his ability to drive perfectly even when way too fast, even when intoxicated, go? It was a reckless, irresponsible and fucking dangerous talent but a talent nonetheless and that was a win in Billy’s book.

Why did he fuck up so hard this time ?

“ I uh — “ his throat feels like sandpaper, his word are heavy as cement blocks. “ I’m dead “.

It’s the only thought running through his head. It’s like whenever he’s trying to form coherent sentences, he’s drawing a blank. He’s dead meat as soon as his dad finds out about this.

If it was only his car that was damaged, he’s just try to scrap together some money and get it fixed but it seems as if his only has a few scratches and dents while the truck’s side is damaged like a squashed beercan.

He’s hyperventilating. It’s too much. He can take a lot, has learned to cope, has gotten used to it but even Billy Hargrove has a limit. And that limit has been reached, crossed and exceeded in this moment.

“ Kid ? “ a big warm hand comes down on his shoulder and Billy involuntarily flinches. Those touches don’t usually come with warmth and care and worry. They come with pain and resentment and misplaced anger.

“ Hey, hey kid. I’m not gonna rip your head off or anything. Don’t worry “

It’s not him he’s worried about though. Billy wishes it was. Wishes that his biggest concern was the stranger who’s car he wrecked. Wishes he could go home and explain what happened to parents who cared about his well being. He wishes things were different.

But they aren’t. It’s a shit show all around.

“ My dad is gonna kill me “

Billy meets the Stranger’s eyes again. He looks concerned. Understanding. Kind almost. Billy can’t fathom why the fuck this guy shows him anything but animosity. He sure as hell doesn’t deserve the kindness he’s coming his way. He’s fucked up. His dad might actually have a point after all.

“ Look, kid. That’s my diner right there. Let’s go sit down, I’ll get you something to eat and then we can talk, alright ? “

Billy wants to say no. He wants to tell the guy that he’s gonna get the money somehow and pay him all the damage worth. He wants to walk the fuck away from this mess. Actually he just wants the earth to swallow him whole.

But none of that happened because as his mind works a mile a minute, all jumbled up and confused, his body doesn’t. It’s like his physical form is on autopilot, following the man into the diner and sitting down on a red leather seat that looks like it’s seen better times.

It’s warm and cozy in here, a nice change to the chilly air of a mid November day. While the guy runs towards the back of the diner, where the kitchen is located, Billy’s eyes roam around the room.

The cushioned booths look like they’ve seen better days and the ceiling fan in missing a blade. There’s only a few booths, maybe 5, and 4 seats by the counter. It seems like they were trying to stay with a red white and black color scheme but abandoned the idea halfway through.

Nothing in here really matches but there is a certain kind of charm about it, Billy has to admit. This might just be the only place in all of Hawkins that doesn’t pretend to be something it isn’t. It’s not perfect, it’s chaotic and mismatched and there’s things in here, like the waving cat figurine by the cash register, that clearly don’t belong here, but it’s not trying to deny it. It knows it’s imperfect and it’s okay if people know that.

Billy wishes he’d found this place under different circumstances.

A while later the man comes back, a plate filled with eggs and bacon in one hand, a steaming hot cup of coffee in the other. He sets them down in front of Billy and motions with his head towards the food. “Eat up !”

Billy is still flabbergasted by the irony of this situation. He’s so incredibly undeserving of the kindness, the food, the shelter. Hell, he doesn’t even deserve this man’s time.

“ I — I’m sorry “

Billy Hargrove isn’t one to say sorry. He’s living life at his terms, at his speed, with all the consequences and casualties that might pile up along the way. He doesn’t say sorry, ever.

Only this time he does because it’s the only thing there is to say. It doesn’t suffice but it’s a start.

The man is silent for a moment but Billy can feel his eyes on him. Not judging, but assessing him.

“ That’s good to hear. You do know I will have to tell your parents about this “.

Billy feels 5 years old again, being scolded for being a bratty child. Helpless, ashamed, sad. For the first time in a long time he’s being confronted with the reality he has created for himself. There’s only so much you can blame on the situation, on his family, his surroundings. In the end he’s the one who went down the easy route. The reckless one.

He’s never gonna admit any of that out loud, to anyone, ever. But that’s the way things are and he’s scared shitless that all his stupid teenage angst and post-pubescent anger is coming back to bite him in the ass now.

He wishes his mom was here. She’d be mad as hell, not because of the damage but because he got himself in a dangerous situation. She’s scold him, sure but then she’d also help him get out of this mess. Then again, he isn’T sure his mom would even like the person he’s become these days. He can’t even stand himself most of the time.

“ You — you can’t tell my dad. I promise I am gonna find a way to pay you back for the damages. I promise! “

Billy is talking out of his ass right now. He knows it and he’s fairy sure the guy knows it too. There’s approximately $12 in his wallet right now and another $23 stored in the shoe box beneath his bed. He’s got no job and he as hell won’t be asking Neil for money anytime soon. To be quite honest, Billy was royally fucked. But there was no way Neil could ever know about this.

“ How you gonna do that then ? “ the man asks, he still looks calm and collected and he even has a little smirk playing in the corner of his lips. Billy thinks that’s fucking weird, this guy should be chewing him up right now, not fucking smile at him.

“ I uh — I got savings “

He doesn’t.

“ and stuff I can sell “

Bullshit.

“ … and I’m sure my friends can help me out a little. “

What friends ? Tommy and Carol are the closest to a friend that Billy has right now and they are barely getting by as it is.

“ Just don’t tell my dad. He can’t know “

Billy hopes that the intensity of his voice, the begging tone, the sheer devastation in his eyes, comes across. Maybe appeals to the guy’s conscience. Sure he could be doing an emotional strip right now and put everything out in the open. He could tell the guy that if his dad finds out he caused an accident and has to pay for the damages, he’s in for a good old beating from his dear old man. He could tell it all and maybe awake some sort of pity in the guy. But his mother didn’t raise a snitch, didn’t raise a pussy.

Airing your family's dirty laundry in public just isn’t something the Hargroves do or ever did. No matter how dirty. No matter how bad. Those things stay behind closed doors where no one can see and no one can hear and no one can judge. So all the public sees is a fairly functional patchwork family that is trying their best to get on with their lives after they’ve been dealt some pretty shitty cards.

The man is silent for a moment, he rubs a hand along his beard and looks deep in thought. And then he looks up at Billy and there’s a pity in his eyes that Billy knows fairly well but hasn’t seen in a while. It’s that look that people have when they find out his mother died, the one he’s been greeted with for months after she had passed away. The one that comes with an abundance of “ I’m sorry”s and “ Let me know if there is anything I can do”s. Billy hates that look, usually. No I’m sorry is gonna bring his mom back. Today though, that look might just save his ass.

“ Look, boy. I uh — I don’t know what’s going on at home and if you don’t wanna talk I ain’t gonna ask. Thing is, I need this car to run errands and stuff. I live real close so I can walk to and from work but getting groceries, driving my little one to school ? That stuff ain’t gonna do itself. I got a proposition for you. “

“ Okay “

“ You ever worked before ? “

No. Billy has never worked a day in his life, not for money at least. Back in California, he used to help out his friend Mike and his dad at the garage sometimes, fixing cars and shit. That was more for fun than for anything else though. It was a nice time just hanging out with his friend and dad and drinking a few beers and working on cars. Just guys being guys. Stereotypical and outdated, probably but it was still fun. Something he wishes he could’ve done with his dad. If his dad wasn’t such an insufferable asshole.

“ Not really. I mean I know my way around cars and shit but — no. “

“ Well, here’s the deal. I need someone to run my errands while my car gets fixed. You do that for me, help me out whenever needed. When I don’t need you to drive anywhere you’re gonna help me out here at the diner. The money you earn goes into fixing my car. Once it’s paid off you get to leave and we don’t have to tell no one about it. But I need to be able to rely on you, kid. “

No one has ever really relied on Billy, in his entire life. It’s a heavy burden on his shoulder but what else is there to do ? It’s either this or facing Neil’s wrath. It’s either this or a black eye. A sore jaw. A bleeding nose. Over and over again.

“ Why are you doing this ? Why are you being — nice ? “

Sure, Billy isn’t an idiot. He is well aware that there are people who are just nice for the sake of being nice. People who just have it in them to show kindness to everyone no matter the situation. But that doesn’t mean he’s not still surprised and shocked when coming across someone like that. Maybe it comes with being surrounded by horrible people day in day out, maybe being a horrible person himself.

God, he sounds like an old bitter hag.

“ Man, I’m just trying to collect some good karma points until I’m stood before those pearly gates “ the guy jokes “ nah but honestly, you’re what 18 ? “

“ 17 “

“ 17! I’ve done stupid shit at 17. It’s just a car after all, no one got hurt. Lords knows I’ve been given seconds chances and thirds. Who says you don’t ? Just — just don’t make me regret it “

He probably will. If there’s one thing Billy is good at, it’s fucking up. That doesn’t mean he’s not gonna try his damn best to get this over and done as fast as possible, without completely messing up.

“ Thank you, Sir. I appreciate it. I’m Billy by the way “

“ Pete. Pete Finch “ He reaches out his hand for Billy to shake before getting up and walking towards the counter “ now eat up and go home. I expect you here showered and ready in a few hours. Your first shift starts at 5. I hope you suit red and white because there’ a uniform. “

Well things just can’t get any worse from here.

Things did get worse.

Billy is staring at himself in the little mirror that’s hung above the sink in the diner’s break room. He’s in a white shirt and jeans but they gave him not only a name tag but also a red bow tie and a ridiculous little hat thing that has the diner’s logo printed on it.

The Early Bird is a cute diner, a charming place really, but the uniform makes Billy look absolutely goofy. The shirt is too tight and paired with the bowtie it’s comically ridiculous at best and borderline stripper-esque at worst.

He just hopes Neil never stumbles into this place. Getting comments from schoolmates who might end up here for a burger and shakes, that he can deal with, but his dad ? Never !

It’s a fairly quiet day today. There’s a couple in one of the booths celebrating their 5 year anniversary and two families enjoying some burgers and fries. Billy has successfully charmed the mothers into buying the more pricey deserts. Moms, he thinks, are so easy to wrap around his finger. Maybe he gets to keep the tip.

Fumbling the pack of smokes from his jacket, Billy walks towards the back door of the diner. Pete has allowed him a few smoke breaks throughout the day, as long as he’s not needed urgently. Billy thanks the heavens for that.

The cold air hits his skin, as Billy steps outside into the crisp November evening. He misses the warmth of californian falls. He’s not made for a weather like this, cold and dry and uncomfortable.

Just as he is about to light a smoke, Billy notices a movement to his right. There’s a shiny dark red chevy chevelle parked behind the diner and on the hood of the car there’s a girl.

Her bright blonde hair is permed to the max and cascades down one side of her face. Her lips are painted a deep red that matches her car perfectly and Billy can just make out the shine of a metal ring through the left side of her nose. She’s wearing the same crisp white shirt he was given as part of the uniform only her’s isn’t too tight. Hers is tied into a knot at the front. Billy wonders if living here for a longer amount of time makes a person immune to the cold weather because there’s no way she isn’t freezing with her top exposing part of her midriff. Sure it’s not a lot and she’s wearing a jacket over it but still.

She’s clutching a book in one hand while the other flicks ash of a cigarette.

“ I can feel you staring, it’s rude “

She lifts her eyes up to catch his gaze. There’s a smirk playing on her lips as she notices she caught him off guard.

“ Well you got a nice car there “ Billy replies and walks down the small steps of the diner and towards the girl. The Chevelle is almost sparkling in what little sunlight breaks through the clouds. He loves his Camaro but this car is an absolute dream.

“ Thanks. Got if for my 16th birthday. Gotta share it with my dad now though, cause someone crashed his car “

Fuck. Of all the bad first impressions Billy has ever made, this is probably the worst of them all. He knows shit all about girls, other than maybe how to woo them into his bed, but he’s quite sure no one’s overly fond of people who demolish other people’s cars.

“ Yeah, I know that was you. You drive a Camaro, I noticed your car at school. People around here don’t usually drive cars like that so I put two and two together when dad told me what happened “.

“ Sorry about that “ he isn’t sure why he feels the need to apologize to her too but maybe Pete was right, maybe collecting some good karma points isn’t the worst idea.

“ I’m sure you are after he put you in that ridiculous uniform. I’m Cleo by the way. “

“ Cleo like Cleopatra ? “

“ Cleo like the pet goldfish in the Pinocchio movie “

Before he has a chance to process that fun little part of trivia, Cleo jumps off of the car and stomped out her cigarette. She swiftly unties the shirt and fumbles the nametag from the pocket of her jeans before pinning it to her uniform.

“ I’d love to stay and chat but I gotta start my shift. Oh by the way, if I catch you slacking in the job I’m gonna get real mad. I’m okay with my dad giving you a chance but I’m not gonna pick up your work if you’re being slow or unreliable. “

“ Uh yeah — sure. Noted “

He acts like a stumbling idiot. This whole situation has really thrown him for a loop. Get yourself together, man.

“ It’s all in the hair babe. People will hear about my good looks and my gorgeous hair and the burgers will sell themselves, you just sit back and watch “.

There we go. That’s the Billy everyone expects. Everyone knows. “ I’m B — “

“ Billy, I know. Everyone knows the new kid. Especially when he’s as cocky as you are “ Cleo laughs and opens the back door. Just before she enters the diner she turns back around, long curls twirling around her face.

“ Just so you know, the hat and the bowtie aren’t part of the uniform. He’s just messing with you, pretty boy “

Billy finally lights his cigarette as the door of the diner closes behind Cleo. His mom would slap him upside the head if she knew he had taken up smoking. She always hated when his dad did it and little Billy had to swear to her that he would never pick up on his father’s vices. But she had also promised him to be there forever, to never leave him and to always protect him and though the rational part of him knows that she isn’t to blame for her own death, a tiny part of Billy still holds some resentment. And that part enjoys his cigarettes very much.

His eyes fall back onto the shiny car as he lets his mind wander. His friend Chase has a Chevelle, they drove it all the way along the PCH one time during spring break. It was a roadtrip filled with shitty 7/11 food and nights of hardly any sleep but god, did they have fun.

He misses home. California and the sun and the beach and his friends. Mostly his friends. Actual friends. People who cared about him because they liked him as a person, not because of his status at school or because the ladies like him. Just because of who he is.

He misses it so much.

Then again, none of them have bothered to check up on him so maybe, maybe they don’t care all that much after all.

Maybe no one ever does.