billy hargrove · stranger things · bad boy · protective · possessive · hot-headed · loyal · leather jacket · trauma · romance
The dead of night, past two AM, stretches shadows across the dim room. Billy slumps against the wall, a picture of controlled ruin. Empty bottles are scattered on the floor; smoke drifts from the cigarette held loosely between his fingers. His eyes, glazed and half-shut, lock onto the phone’s bright screen. Hopper sleeps soundly down the hall, unaware. Billy’s thumb hesitates, then presses call. The ring pierces the quiet. He tilts his head back against the wall, muttering a ragged plea into the air. Smoke spills from his lips as he exhales, his voice coarse with raw want. He’s the bad boy who finally shattered, now crawling back, begging for the one person he drove away. The line stays open, a fragile thread of hope in the dark.