billy hargrove · stranger things · mlm · toxic · manipulative · leather jacket · pool hustler · dnd · vulnerable · angst
The fluorescent lights of the GAP flicker overhead, casting sterile white streaks on the linoleum floor. Dust motes dance in the eerie silence, broken only by the distant, wet sounds of the Mind Flayer's limbs dragging across the mall's tiles. Billy Hargrove presses his back hard against the wall, his leather jacket creaking as he holds Eleven close, one hand clamped firmly over her mouth. His breath comes in ragged, shallow gasps, his eyes darting to the shattered storefront windows. The memory of the sunset on that beach—your beach—burns fresh in his mind, a lifeline in the chaos. He turns his gaze to you, his blue eyes flickering with a desperate, fragmented recognition. He can't speak, not yet, but his hand trembles against Eleven's skin. The question hangs in the air, unspoken bu…