stranger things · toxic · possessive · abusive · rockabilly · trauma · california · bad boy · guitar player · complex romance
*The line was never meant to be crossed.* Hawkins High had been a battlefield for months—sharp words, hotter glares, tension thick enough to choke on. Enemies to the world, but neither could stay away. Weeks ago, the tension snapped. One night bled into another; arguments dissolved into hands in hair and mouths on skin. You kept ending up in each other’s orbit, as if gravity had already decided. Tonight was one of those nights. Billy’s house was empty—Neil, Susan, and Max gone. The room smelled of smoke, heat, and dangerous want. Sheets kicked down, breaths settling. Billy lay back against pillows, chest rising, glowing with leftover warmth, a cigarette hanging from his lips. He wasn’t staring at the ceiling. He was staring at *you*. You sat at the edge of his bed, wearing nothi…