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redraw

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billy

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hi merry christmas🎄🎅

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pain mode

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It’s Conditional

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Besties are baking somethingg~! 💙

but why is Daniel dirty...? ⬇️

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He angwy 😡

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don't look too hard at the flowers I didn't put that much effort into them :]

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quit starin

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happy birthday to me🎂

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Markus my babygirl

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1983 - summer of cali.

this is a prologue.

characters billy hargrove, argyle

CW drug abuse, collapse, vomit???

A/N im not all that talented of a writer, and I am NOT passing english so feel free to question or correct!!!! the more i write the further i stray from canon please bear with me. pt 1 will either be released the 26th or sometime in January. this is not proofread

June 6th, 1983. — billy

He knew this place like the back of his hand, every street and alley he could name. Billy spent sixteen years idle in one place. The countless times he snuck out through his bedroom window at night, he found himself exploring all the places he hadn't seen yet. The only good thing Billy got from this place was the pretty beaches and disorderly waves. He always felt drawn to the shore. It was like the eye of a tropical storm, the calmest part to him.

The school, Lenora Hills, was okay. He had friends, and he lost some. He had his heart broken, and he shared memories. Billy called it part of the experience—an experience he hoped he'd live to tell, anyway. He spent most of the time outside or with his friends. Now, they were out of school for the summer, and Billy couldn’t rely on Ibuprofen and Mötley Crüe to function during the day. Two more years left until he was on his own. He'd be free, and he'd have to navigate on his own from there. Maybe his peers thought it was scary to be alone so soon, but Billy couldn't wait for that day. To not be referred to as anyone's.

He loved not being home. Outside was his safe space; he didn't have to hear his father's harsh mouth from outside his room. Living was so unfair to him. Though, at times, he didn't really feel like he was. This was hell.

liv·ing

/ˈliviNG/ adjective

1. alive.

Billy could barely register the voice calling his name. His head was against the cold window, fogged by his slow breathing. The moderate rain pitter-pattering against the glass shook him awake. He had a splitting headache only on one side of his face, and his neck was stiff. It would bother him all day until he did something about it, but it seemed to happen more frequently lately.

He looked toward the person calling him. It was his friend in the driver's seat. They stopped in front of a gas station. “Are you alright, man?” He asked. It was the same man he’d always been, with tanned skin, long black hair, and half-lidded eyes.

His name was Argyle. They initially met in freshman biology class. After being forced to work together on a project, they grew close. Billy ended up doing most of the work since Argyle wasn’t very sober. It was evident in itself. Billy admired how he got through an entire school year without getting detected. The smell was usually covered up with cheap old spice, but the distinct marijuana smell still lingered on him.

Billy sat up, rubbing his eyes. “Yeah, yeah…” the curly blonde mumbled. His left leg was asleep; it felt like tiny pins and needles were stabbing him all over. He looked out of the window.

It was past dark by now. It was almost midnight. It wasn’t ideal to stop at some random gas station far from the city in the middle of the night. It was cold and raining. All Hargrove had on was shorts and some shabby hoodie.

They took advantage of the fact no one was there to check them. It was summer break, and both of their parents had been more lenient compared to a school night. Although, they weren’t supposed to be out this late. Argyle got away with stealing his grandfather's car without getting caught. It was a piece of junk. Billy swore it would break down in the middle of the road before they got anywhere, but they managed to get pretty far.

Argyle made it to the very edge of town in a half hour or so. They made plenty of useless stops, like stopping at the park right before this.

He reached for the door, opening it with shaky hands. Billy felt horrible; he was nauseous, he felt hot and cold at the same time, and his head throbbed. Hargrove stopped himself from heaving right then and there.

𝝑𝝔

They walked into the gas station together, met with a loud ring from the welcoming bell. Billy winced as it echoed in his mind. The cashier was too deep into a magazine to notice their entrance correctly. The magazine’s cover was plastered with the latest celebrity dramas and California’s local news.

It looked cramped inside. The floor looked like it hadn’t been swept in days, and all of the countertops looked unwiped. Billy lazily leaned against Argyle, keeping himself upright in a battle of gravity.

“You’re out of it.” Argyle cleared his throat. “Want somethin’ to drink? Or… I don’t know.”

Billy shook his head. “I’m fine.” He wiped away the thin layer of sweat on his head. “Probably just a cold.” He made a poor attempt at hiding the irritation in his voice.

“You don’t look like it, dude.” Argyle grabbed him by the shoulders. “Look at you. All shaky like you just seen a ghost.” Argyle chuckled, more concerned than anything.

Billy scoffed in annoyance. “I’m… okay. I’m okay.” He reassured him. He didn’t feel okay at all.

Everything felt overwhelming. It was too warm and clammy, and the air felt sticky to him, in a way. Hargrove felt like he could break any minute or so. He had no idea why. He had never felt like this before. His hoodie felt rugged against his skin, and his shorts felt too tight and restricting; it made him nauseous. Billy thought all of his senses had been turned up to 101%

“Argyle, I'm going to go to the bathroom…” Billy mumbled, picking himself up off of the other male.

He stumbled through the aisle, bumping himself on the shoulder on the way there. He winched, his hand going up to clutch his shoulder. Hargrove’s pain tolerance was at an all-time low. He didn’t hit himself too hard, but, damn, it really hurt.

𝝑𝝔

Billy made it to the men’s room. His shaky hands opened the knob. Most stalls were out of order, locked from the inside, and a yellow paper taped on the stall, warning them not to enter.

The door closed behind him with a harsh slam, ringing in his head. He winced, the back of his hand resting on his head as he burst into a stall.

He collapsed, his back down sliding against the wall. Billy closed his eyes in pain, his own hands tugging at his head of curls. Things were starting to float into his vision, and something rose in his throat. He shifted, now hunched over the toilet. Despite needing to vomit, nothing came out. He took a deep breath.

What was going on with him right now? Maybe this would all go away with water or a little medicine. His stomach was starting to ache. He tried to recall the things he ate or drank that day. He hadn’t had anything but cereal for breakfast and an energy drink for lunch. Maybe that was it. There was something he couldn't stop thinking about, though.

He went weak in the limbs, feeling eerily calm. His eyes parted, fluttering. Billy felt as if he was being blinded by the dim, blinking white light above. A lot of shapes started to flood his vision. Billy felt like he was fighting with his own consciousness.

His head hit the seat with a loud thud, his own eyes closing on himself.

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Deviant Hunter

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Rewatched Jackscepticeye's play through lol.

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I did not draw this a friend of mine did! You can find them on pixil art by the user of MRYESNOMAYBE !!