HERE I AM.

          jb returns the favour, middle finger flipping him off back as she’s rolling her eyes at him, can’t help but laugh as she bites into the apple she had zero intention of eating in the first place, but she’ll let him have his victory . . “𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎. 𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎, 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚑 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚢 𝚘𝚗 𝚌𝚒𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚜?” she questions, a judging side eye glance at him.

           “𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚑 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚍𝚞𝚖𝚋 𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 – 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚝 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚠𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚊 𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜, 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚟𝚎 .” tongue poking out at him as she eats the last of her PB&J sandwich, tossing other reeses cup at him playfully.  “𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚍, 𝚘𝚛 𝚍𝚘 𝚒 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚘𝚘?” she questions with a raised eyebrow, watching as he lights up his cigarette, wondering if he’s feeling nice enough to let her bum a drag or two.

billy takes a deep breath, hums as the smoke curls in his lungs. does he purposefully puff it out in her direction out of spite? maybe. he doesn´t have fucking lunch money, only the few bucks he´d earned himself - but even if he did, he would probably still spend it on cigarettes and alcohol. a shrug is all he gives her before turning back to his prize.   ❝   money better spent, if you ask me.  ❞

@kingrove​ asked: ❝ i play that moment back in my head all the time. ❞  -for eleven!! Not Accepting || Meme

     Hazel gaze shifts downward at his words and her mind tries to think back of which moment that he speaks of. There were a number of them, especially since recent events. Time passe, yes, but it wasn’t passing fast enough to forget the trauma and pain they had all went through that summer. She felt better being back in Hawkins. Felt more secure. Felt safer surrounded by her friends instead of being wrapped in the warmth of sunlight in California. She wonders if Billy may be talking about one of those moments? One of the ones she had seen inside of his mind when she had tried so desperately to save him from the Mind Flayer?

     "Which?“ She asks in nothing but a soft tone. Her movements are gentle, chin raising, gaze shifting to look at him. She remembers, of course she does, the way he looked as a child, smiling up at his mother. He was proud, so happy to have caught a wave on his surfboard and to ask if she had seen. His smile had such a warmth and it matched that of his mother’s. She wonders if that’s where he got it from? Had he taken more of her than of his father and just refused to show it? She has so many questions, never having met her mother before or known the similarities between them, but she knows to not ask such personal questions to someone.

     "I think about them too.” Words come with pause littered between them. She’s getting better at speaking in full sentences but it still feels strange upon her tongue. In the lab, she didn’t need to speak, not really. Always the quiet one who barely asked questions or answered in verbal replies. When she did speak, it was broken. English wasn’t really something they taught there, instead, focusing more upon the power that laid inside of her. “You’re…okay now.” She nods to him, hoping her words give him some comfort to whatever memory is stuck inside of his head. She does not want to dive back inside, to know just what plays again in his brain. It’s personal and she knows it’s a line she does not want to cross again.

is he? billy has no fucking clue what he´s doing anymore - sitting on the bench outside the hospital, smoking cigarette after cigarette just to have something to do with his hands that isn´t wringing them or punching something. after an entire year, he feels like he´s back to where he started - back at zero, filled with useless rage that doesn´t get him anywhere. he can feel it boiling underneath his skin, setting it on fire at the smallest of provocations. the fucking monster had played them, had played HIM AGAIN. and as if it doesn´t add insult to injury, he can still feel him, can feel his eyes on the back of his neck - mocking him, while max lay still in her hospital bed. the sound of the heart monitor the only proof she was even still alive. 

he was supposed to be there. he was supposed to protect her - billy clenches his fists, lets nails dig into his skin until the pain is sharp - piercing him back to reality.  ❝ no i´m not. ❞

the girl, eleven - jane, was a strange companion to have ; he hadn´t ever really had the chance to talk to her after the shadow, after everything that she´d seen. billy isn´t particularly keen to, especially now - the last thing he wants to feel is SEEN, or be reminded of easier times. he didn´t want to be on an adventure on the beach - he wanted to go back to the upside down and get his hands around a monsters neck and break bones. he´s fucking angry ; and that makes him dangerous to be around. always had. 

                                                            @kingrove 

                     “ isn’t it nice to breathe…” vecna mused as he hovered over Billys body laying on the ground of his house. “ You lot forget about breathing as it becomes second nature to you … you never STOP to take in the air your breathing.”  he sighed , people were so predictable , boring and inane. BUT his plan was just begining, HE needed Billy no matter who he was as a person.            He would use Billy as a means to manipulate the others, bring him back as a spy, HOW would he have billy reenter the other realm ? WELL it was quite simple.. He’d return but not in hawkins, He’d start a new life in a new town and have him watch for new potential people to open portals with. Billy would be easy enough to manipulate, he had enough trauma to bring up to twist him to a maluable pile. 

                      “ Now we have a few matters to discuss take some time to orientate yourself .. resurection .. not easy at all..”

no, no, no. this shit wasn´t happening. the world around him was spinning, the air in his lungs burning - he feels like he´s woken up from a long nap, except that his body didn´t get the message and was still catching up. only, he hadn´t been sleeping - had he? he felt the spikes pierce his skin, had felt sharp teeth tear his skin apart - had felt the blood fill his lungs. 

　　　　Billy had always been so good at concealing his emotions, it hadn’t been until their minds had been linked by the Mindflayer that Heather’d had the chance to understand how deep his feelings really ran. Her memories about the days spent inside the hivemind, everything that remained of her drowning more and more under all that darkness surrounding her soul. The bits and pieces she remembered were images of violence and the pain coming from those whose lives they’d stolen and linked to theirs, but Billy’s had always been the strongest voice she’d been able to hear somewhere in her head. Maybe it was the reason why the silence of the hospital was still something Heather wasn’t quite used to, and it was almost unnatural to look at him and not be able to know whatever was going through his mind.

　　　　Heather could see the tension in his body, however. Even as he kept his expression blank, she could see how that clashed with his body language. She blamed that on whatever nightmare he’d just woken up from, or maybe the surprise coming from seeing her there when she was supposed to be dead — to be fair, Heather was still pretty shocked herself about the fact that she was breathing after everything. After her insides had almost being melted by whatever chemicals the Mindflayer had needed in order to stay alive. On a bad day it was like she could almost taste them in her mouth once again, like a disgusting echo that was still very much there. She wondered if Billy was going through the same, she wondered just how similar their experience was. If maybe there was still an invisible link between them.

　　　　Truth was she had no-one else left but the guy that was laying on that bed. And her soul ached with how much she missed those days of summer when everything had been so easy. Smiles and sun-kissed skin mixing with the smell of chlorine…

　　　　Heather’s brows furrowed, cause the question came out of his lips almost as if he’d forgotten everything about her all of a sudden. « I wanted to see if you were okay. I heard the machines beeping from my room. » Like worrying about his well-being was the most natural reaction to everything. He hadn’t answered her question, though, so she tried again. « Do you want me to call a nurse? Are you in pain? »

 worried about him. if that wasn´t a novel concept - there had only ever really been one person in billy´s life that had cared enough about him to worry and he was stuck six feet under the ground back in california ;; at least that´s how it looked like only a few weeks ago. or was it months now? time moves weird in the hospital like this - with nothing to pass the time except for mindless tv and the beeping of the machines that he´d come to fucking hate. the annoying beep, beep, beep - a constant reminder that he was alive ; a constant truth of how he feels with no chance to hide it. every skip of a beat, every stutter on blank display for everyone to hear in this shitty place with paper fucking walls. 

❝ no  ❞  a lie. the noise threatens to pick up on his side and billy forces himself to look away from heather, to look straight ahead at the blank wallpaper and force his breath slow, deep and low. there´s a fire in his chest, burning its way through his flesh and he knows the nurses would ease it away with the morphine - but he needs it. needs the pain to ground him on a night like this when the silence is too loud and heather holloway sits next to him ;; looking at him like she sees everything. the pain is his, the consequence of his choice. billy closes his eyes and takes another breath, feels the flames spread like a web through his battered lungs. 

❝ it´s fine.  ❞

it takes him three spikes of the monitor to the left to gather up the courage to turn back ; to really look at heather in her hospital gown, hooked up to probably the same shit he´s been for the chemical mess inside their bodies - it´s hard not to think that he´d done that to her. that it wasn´t him who´d sapped all the life out of her, that wasn´t the cause for the dark purple rings underneath her eyes. but it really was, wasn´t it. it had been him, and yet she´s still here - yet she still worries ;; even though the last time she had, it´d gotten her nothing but misery. you´d think someone would learn after an experience like that   ❝ what about you? you don´t exactly look like you should be running around the halls yet, holloway. ❞ 

✧      ╰      『 BILLY HARGROVE || @kingrove​. 』

* are you out of your fucking mind?

-ˋˏ [ ◉¯] ┈┈┈┈ ❝ YOU TELL ME – ❞ Voice cracked , digits clasping tightly to broomstick as he stood over the groggy man. A long night of suffering, dealing with a dark substance that broke through his threshold from the inside out, yet it all felt over ; it always felt that way until something new arrived in their home. What’s certain is how uncertain Jonathan felt about this ; his knuckles whitening against the tension that permeated continuously through his life. 

    At least now he had a warm hand to hold through it.

    NOT the hand of Billy Hargrove’s, mind you, but he’d digress since his inner monologue crumbled down to an unnerving end as he realized the disturbing elements of the intruder inside. To call the cops would only lead to another Byers home spectacle to place on the news, ridiculing them as the town freaks further and further by the populace that loved to gawk and jeer at them. For now, he’d keep his justice to his own merits before allowing another person TOMMY OR CAROL to snidely sneak a snickering, ‘ how’re the lights in your house? ’ his way.

    From what he’d seen of this monstrous man, he could easily tear down the old king of Hawkins with ease – out drink him, outplay him, outfriend him – so there was no telling how a fight between them would handle. Best to keep his distance, best to keep the upper hand – who knew when the sedative would wear off and the guy would perk back up to full? This wasn’t one of Will’s D&D games, either, Jonathan didn’t have any high number stats or chance to take a step back and deliberate if there came a choice in the moment. 

    Inching closer, he would wind up the broom’s end for a swing, peering through his red, puffy eyes, ready to strike it down at any sign of physical aggression. ❝ Why the HELL are you in my house, Billy?! ❞

random (chaotic) dialogue starters.

there´s a ringing in his ears , high and obnoxious as the world swims around his vision - refusing to settle down just yet. whatever had been in that syringe that little shit had injected him with, it had knocked him out good. he can´t feel anything - too busy floating on the clouds of an old and ugly wooden floor in a cabin in the woods. 

and maybe it´s better that way. because like this? the blurry image of a man hovering over him with a weapon in hand doesn´t quite petrify him, doesn´t make his teeth clamp down and square his jaw in anticipation of a hit. there is no fear in his veins yet that would make him comply out of sheer habit- and thank fuck for that. because when the world around him finally stopped being an ocean and the vague figure finally took shape, turning out to be the older byers - billy doesn´t think he´d have lived through the fucking humiliation. 

beat by his father, beat by his stupid adopted kid sister in front of harrington and the other brats -   beat out of the house with a broom like a fucking rat; billy really didn´t need cowering in front of the freak of hawkins high on top of that list. 

he lets his head fall back down to the ground from where he´d lifted it to look, closes his eyes before the motion of it can send him spinning out of control again and groans. there isn´t even any pain to ground him, even though he knows he should be feeling it everywhere. he wants to be annoyed, wants to feel the rage lighting up his veins - but all he is, is tired.

every time billy walks through the bland hospital halls and sits in the cheap, creaking chair right next to the machine that monitors the life of max in a steady beat he feels it flare up again and again. he´d been there, he was right there and it didn´t matter one fucking bit. none of it did because that fucker didn´t even die in the end. once again, billy was STUCK watching, STUCK doing jack shit, STUCK taking hit after hit without a chance of retaliation. 

he feels like a pressure cooker about to burst ;; and meetings like this sure didn´t help the matter either. the group of them - the ones who know ; a group he´s officially a part of, no matter how far on the side. they sit and talk about shit they have no clue of, try to prepare for everything when no one has a clue what the hell is even coming. they all know they´re in the eye of the storm and shit is about to hit the fan and billy just needs to DO something. something other than standing in the corner listening to people talk and talk and talk. 

it´s ugly when the thread finally snaps - it´d only been a matter of time and billy had seen it coming from a mile away, but couldn´t be bothered to stop. old habits are hard to break, even if they leave him feeling like shit afterwards. in the moment, the release of all the pressure is all he cares about - in the way his fist impacts with the wood behind him, in the way his voice rises to a roar - the old chief and he are head to head and billy is daring him with flared nostrils and a raised chin ;; he knows the chief wants to take a hit, can see it in his eyes - they are so close, billy is so close to get what he wants when it´s the RUSSIAN out of all people who interferes. who gets hopper to back down and turn away - who leaves billy squaring off against empty space - all of the energy puffing out of existence, unsatisfying and more importantly unresolved. 

billy had left, then - not before the other man had caught his shoulder, telling him to meet him here again the next day ; a gesture billy had shrugged off immediately, bristling and on edge - a sharp don´t fucking touch me spit right at him - but he´d left, taking himself out of the equation before he could humiliate himself even more than he already had. did he make himself out to be a complete fucking fool? yeah. had he thought about ditching the weird foreigner, leaving him to wait all fucking day for him? absolutely. had this been a year ago, he probably would have. but he´s not the same, for better or for worse; billy is still unsure. 

 RUINED BY FURY.  you are angry. you are angry and everyone knows it. the fire within you will not die, cannot die. for if it dies, you wont have a reason to burn. your rage simmers close to your chest, it boils near something you wont touch. you are angry because it is easier than anything else. you are angry because you choose it over pain. you are ruined because you cannot feel anything but your own ire.