#cheapedtricks

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                    “What? Yeah, it matters. It always matters.” 

          He noticed she had been crying. He had not noticed the bruise. He didn’t know how he missed it. The darkening color a little too close a call to his own black eye a few weeks ago. Steve shifted, looking away from her and around the quiet suburban sidewalk. He’d caught her alone while he was driving. He’d been making aimless circles around the neighborhoods, not sure where he wanted to go or what he wanted to do. 

          He hadn’t expected to find Max looking more than a little distressed. Where did she get the bruise? Billy Hargrove was fucking dead. Maybe he didn’t like the guy, but he hadn’t wanted him dead. He just wanted him to stop being such a dick. Didn’t meant anything. Billy was dead and Max had a mysterious bruise on her face and Steve felt suddenly cold. 

PROTECTIVE STARTERS

Billy had not been convinced that James Hopper had been killed; he had heard some details from Joyce Byers, offering to listen to her relate her woes about the chief of police’s ‘death’, and well. Something didn’t sit right with Billy. He just had this hunch, and 7 out of 10 times, his gut wasn’t wrong.

Hopper must’a gotten away, somehow. He had to have jumped through that rift. He had to have. Billy had scoured the ‘upside-down’ ( Hell, far as Billy were concerned ), using a technique that El had taught him called ‘Spirit Walking’ ( least, Billy called it that ). He could scour any place, so long as he had a lock on somebody. Somebody in his mind, in his heart.

He had searched that place for just a bit over a year now. And somehow, Billy had found him. He had gotten a blip on James Hopper, in Hell. Yeah. He was alive. He was alive, but barely. Hopper was trapped.

Billy was going to save him. T’get him out of there before he died; the man was strong. Stronger’n most gave him credit for. Hopper had survived in that place for over a year? Strength, far as Billy was concerned.

He had told everybody that knew, that understood: because Billy wanted them to be aware. On the off chance that Billy couldn’t make it, or something, they all needed to know. So that way someone else could go in, find Hopper, help him. To hell with Billy: to hell with himself. He had probably deserved to die ages ago.

If it meant giving his life, to help Hopper? The man that should have lived? Of course Billy would. In a heartbeat. In an instant.

The day of, finally arrived. Billy felt nerves, but also oddly calm. He had accepted this, the day he’d glimpsed James Hopper for the briefest of moments in that otherworldly hellscape.

What Billy hadn’t expected? Max to stop him, just before he was about to lock himself in his room. Lock himself in, to open a rift on his own and travel through. He had glanced over at her, eyebrow raised, then she spoke,

“Please, take me with you.”

Billy just stared. Stared for what felt like ages, but only had lasted maybe 20 seconds. Stared because he could hear that fear in her voice; that worry for him. That guilt, that self-depreciation because she was worrying that she was useless. She was helpless.

Then, Billy moved and hugged her. He gently gripped at her, before that hold turned more protective, warm. When had he last held her? Had he ever held her? Had he ever thought to show affection this way?

“I’ll be back before you know it, Maxie.” Billy’s voice is low, careful: trying to instil in her hope, to instil in her reassurance. To let her know that it would all be fine. Yet he was terrified. He was horrified because it was only just now hitting him what he was putting her through, by doing this.

Fuck, he was a moron.

“When we get back, promise ya. We’ll make those cookies, okay? From scratch.” they never had found that recipe book. Billy’s brows furrowed, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He cleared his throat and squeezed against Max once before letting go, hurriedly turning away.

Billy wiped at his face, before inhaling. Exhaling. Do this, for El. For Max. Be strong for them.

Do some damn good in your life, for once, Billy Hargrove.

Posture confident, head held high, Billy walked towards his bedroom. He paused in between the door frame, and glanced back towards Max,

“ so, the first bus we’re taking is on the outskirts of the city, ” mike explains, foot propped up on the bus stop bench as the two of them wait for their ride. it should be coming any moment now. first one is at five in the morning, or so the schedule says. not mike’s preferred time to be awake, but the earlier, the better. plus, their parents are still asleep and unaware of their absence.