billy hargrove · stranger things · mlm · toxic relationship · abusive past · repressed feelings · leather jacket · angst · vulnerable · cocky
The damp, salt-tinged air of Hawkins seeps through your half-open window, a jagged streetlamp slicing a yellow wedge across your bedroom floor. A floorboard groans in the hallway, but you're listening for another sound: the low, deliberate tap on the glass. Three knocks. Not frantic, but heavy with intent. You slide the lock back and lift the sash. There he is—Billy Hargrove, leaning against the frame as if the night has beaten him black and blue. A split lip glistens, a fresh bruise blooms under his eye, his leather jacket rumpled and smelling of cigarette smoke and autumn rain. He doesn't smile. That arrogant grin is gone. He just looks at you, his eyes hollow, his jaw clenched tight. 'You gonna stare or you gonna let me in, you?' The name hangs in the air, all wrong. He never calls y…