hopelessly devoted !

have a little faith, he says. and this doesn't feel like sunday school. it feels quite far from it. for once she feels in control, like it's legitimately her decision whether to do this and not. consequences she can deal at a later time. and her eyes cannot look away from the shape of bender, gloved hand. "you are not stupid, bender." she makes an interjection. truth in between glossed lips. she rubs her hands. and it isn't fear but rather excitement. it's hitting her then, she gets to be a little stupid teenager.

she looks around before she meets bender's eyes once more. here she is, all trusting. her life and her future freedome being placed on leathered palms. she blinks, and she nods. pressing her lips together. "i think." bites her bottom lip. her heart is beating fast, and she doesn't know where this is going. where it's landing. she slowly stands up, straigthens her skirt. closing her notebook, finger playing on the cover. running a manicured nail over it. "i think you should lead the way, john." lashes fanning. her nerves are killing her. butterflies and the whole damn zoo.

Billy emerges from the gym victorious. A couple fancy tricks on the court, a few distracting taunts (and a shove for good measure), and he brings the win to his team. The high of the adrenaline still courses through his veins, but there's something fucking sour about it. He won the game and made everyone look at him. Except for Harrington. It feels like a loss. The replay goes over and over in his mind, and his stomach twists thinking about how desperate he was to turn the handle of the shower just to get the guy to look at him.

Why the hell did it matter? Because he has to get everyone looking at him. And if he's being honest, every other hick from Bumfuck, Indiana is easily starry-eyed by a California transplant. It's not that hard to get them to play this game. And yet it is. What's more-- Billy isn't impressed with Indiana or California, and now that the latter washes up to the shores of his mind, he winces. Agitation crawls across his skin, making his body brace for a blow that does not come. Suddenly, he wants a cigarette. Something to calm him down.

Billy wants a lot of things, but like that itch for a cigarette, he swallows it.

Time for another distraction!

He makes his way down the hall, complete disinterest plastered on his face as he feels the eyes of every classmate on him. Billy is looking for someone. He doesn't know who, exactly. Until he sees her. Chrissy.

Billy ambles up to her, boots heavy on the floor, then leans his shoulder against the lockers. Nonchalant. Smooth. Well-practiced. Like he has this down to a science, all while suffocating under the weight that constricts his lungs because it's getting closer to the end of the school day. Which means he has to get Max and go back home. They can't be fucking late again. "Hey," he says low and sweet, a smile playing at his lips. Disingenuous at heart, but convincing and charming enough. "Chrissy, right?" It's an old trick. Play a little dumb and a little bit interested all at once. Billy knows this is Chrissy. He's seen her around enough. He knows she's Hawkins' Queen and walks with the same crowd that calls him Keg King now. What a fucking joke! Except he carries that title like it's some kind of badge of honor. It's better than the other things he carries. And, like a cherry on top, it pissed Harrington off. A win, win situation. That fires him up. Billy's running on all cylinders now, his voice practically purring as he says: "Hawkins' very own angel with pom poms instead of wings."

Billy's looking at her, and his head tilts, waiting for something. A reaction. He goes quiet for a moment, but in words only. Nothing about Billy is quiet at all. Everything's so goddamn loud all the time. He wishes (sometimes) he could dial it back. But if he does, he'll start thinking again. And he can't do that. So he shifts into gear. Keeps it up.

bright eyes look up at the new guy. everyone is talking about him, so much chrissy's ears could fall off. it makes her nervous. not in an excited i get to talk to a boy nervous like all the stories she reads. there's always this uncertainty with real strangers, do they see what chrissy is trying to be? is she transparent? it's a little difficult to let herself get too into her own thoughts. the guy is...pretty. big lashes, he smells like cigarettes. dangerous in a way that's interesting. like you can't look away. unlike anyone else in this town

then...something. it's like she can almost put her finger on it not being everything there is about him. chrissy isn't outwardly a people's person. but she is naturally curious. sticks her nose sometimes where it shouldn't go. she's keeping it in mind as she holds the books closer to her chest. it's like needing to focus her eyes to see the image clear up. blinks them back into focus.

"hey." soft, he seems charming. sweet in another life. she gets a little shy, persona breaking just a bit. not scary. rarely scary. "-now who said that? unless. you thought about that one yourself...then that's really sweet. thank you." it's a little sick. an angel alright. "soon, we have to pracitce anyways. are you...are you making team? it's like everything everyone cares about. basketball season is pretty huge." and she's giving him an in...she can't deny it he's intriguing, she has to admit there's something about the new guy. "and i'm sorry i didn't get your name." gossip sometimes does a half bad job in this high school, specially when chrissy avoids it. she doesn't want to mess up this early. she leans back, any other girl would have been flirting, she can't find it in herself.

"yup," he mutters under his breath, agreeing with something he doesn't fully buy into. "guess that's the trick." his jaw shifts. there's a flicker of something there. quick, gone just as fast. the kind of thought he doesn't let sit long enough to take shape. something along the lines of yeah, and guys like me don't exactly get picked for that part. bender sits in his pity party, doing what he always does: lets it slide, files it off. because guys like him don't do that. don't pack picnics. don't sit around watching the sunrise like they've got nowhere better to be. guys like him are the fifteen minutes behind the bleachers, the part of the night people don't talk about after.

"so what if i do want your autograph?" chrissy turns to look at him, and suddenly she's flustered. closer than before, she looks away then. "-i like looking at people's handwriting." then a little nervous, fingers curl into her palm. her eyebrow raises at him. "baby stuff?" shes surprised at first...then there's this feeling deep in her gut, it bypasses everything in her brain blaring alarms high and bright that this is a terrible idea. she's biting her lips, and there it is again the warmth blossoming from her stomach, all the way to her chest. it's his fault. "you're going to get me in trouble, john bender." her hand taps on his arm, like they're friends and this is playful. then she's thinking about it, mulling it over. letting it sit or pretending to. she doesn't want to be a bummer, and she doesn't know why she feels like she wants to impress him. confirm the fact that there is more to chrissy than what people might think.

"-i'll only go if you can promise we won't get caught. my parents are already mad at me for making them drive here on a saturday. can't risk anything worse than that." half a lie, as in chrissy's parents are too busy drowning in misery to really care. they don't have to know she has detention, or has been having detention some days and that scrapbooking or the yearbook club does not meet up on saturdays ever. "i mean it." then, just a tiny bit serious. but it's not a no.

he lets his mind slip elsewhere for a bit, guided by chrissy's own perception of a date. he's positive she's ripping it from memory, something her and her choir boy honey have gotten around to doing already. but bender knows all guys are the same too. that boyfriend of hers is only putting more chips in the bowl, then things can get handsy without a hitch. the thought settles uncomfortably on him. nothing that obvious, but his balance shifts forward. something's pulling his attention whether he likes it or not. a breath saves him, and bender scoffs to reset his attention. watch the stars. watch the sunrise. his mouth almost twitches at that. real rebellious, cunningham, but it doesn't quite make it out. there's something about the way she says it. not trying to impress him. not fishing for anything. just.. saying it like it's simple. like it's allowed to be simple.

"yeah. he would have to." big eyes stare at bender, his reaction, she feels vulnerable. pouring this side of her that no one really gets to see. but he doesn't make fun of her which is the usual reaction when it appears that people don't get it, when people don't get her. "that's the thing. like, i think it wouldn't feel like effort. if it's for the right girl. so it's about that more than. anything really."

it's that i wish someone would do that for me. that someone would care like that that chrissy cunningham leaves unsaid. she picks up the pen again. scribbles again, as they fall into that familiar silence, the types of conversations that only exist in this inbetween space. she moves the notebook so it's more in the middle of the two. "-ever scribbled in a notebook john? it's real fun." and she resumes her work, it's about giving him a safety out. it's about feeling a little too exposed, imagining things. like bender sounding a little curious at the prospect. "you should try it." her eyes dance, between the page and between him. half biting her lip. thinking considering maybe that she's thinking things that she shouldn't.