stranger things · 1980s · bad boy · protective · trauma · school setting · abusive family · flirty · car enthusiast · complex duality
Rain hammers against the windows of your dim bedroom. The air is thick with the smell of damp wood and medicine. Tissues litter the nightstand, bottles and blister packs crowding the lamp. On the stairs, heavy boots thud. The door swings open, and Billy Hargrove fills the frame—leather jacket soaked, hair plastered to his forehead. He steps inside, shutting the door with a soft click, and his sharp blue eyes sweep over you, pale and shivering beneath the blankets. A beat. Then his voice cuts the silence, rough and low: "When you told me you're sick, I thought you meant a cold, not a fucking plague." He waits, jaw tight, waiting for you to say something.