A Certain Someone
This one comes from a deep, personal place and I really hope you guys like it. This one goes out to everybody who's ever been trapped by "love;" I hope you have your soft!Billy moment one day.
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Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader (roommates)
Word count: 3k
Summary: You're finally fed up with your controlling boyfriend, but you feel stuck. You find your savior in the last person you would've expected: Billy Hargrove, formerly Hawkins' most notorious bad boy. He's changed...a lot.
CW: abusive relationship, soft!Billy, smoking
Notes: This work is set around the year 1995; reader and Billy are about 27/28 years old.
Chapter One title inspired by: "Nutshell" by Alice in Chains
"No one to cry to/No place to call home"
"My gift of self is raped/My privacy is raked/And yet I find, and yet I find/Repeating in my head/If I can't be my own/I'd feel better dead"
It was raining outside, and you were huddled, drenched, in a small phone booth by the gas station. Your hoodie felt like it weighed a million pounds. You wiped the rain from your face, but your vision was still blurred by tears that just wouldn't stop flowing.
Maybe he's right. Maybe I'm a burden; maybe I'm selfish.
Maybe I'm unlovable.
Your boyfriend never let you forget how his kindness â his money â was the only thing keeping you afloat. You'd fallen for him because he was so romantic at first. He'd send you flowers just because you felt sad. He learned how to say "I love you" in multiple languages and never ran out of new pet names to call you to make you blush. He always made you feel special, which wasn't hard with a family like yours. You'd grown up walking on eggshells around your volatile father; you were your mother's emotional crutch and protector. No one ever taught you how to be independent because they wanted you to stay home and under their control. And he, your charming boyfriend, had taken you away from that hell with promises of a safe, cozy little life. Just the two of you.
He left you a shell of your former self. Your quirks were nuisances to be corrected. You were too noisy, too excitable, too "difficult" when you wanted to do things your own way. He took it upon himself to "guide" you. He drained your joy and his anger at the world left you tiptoeing around his feelings. It was a routine you already knew by heartâŠyou'd just been naive enough to believe it was all behind you.
Your friends noticed the nervous way you held yourself, the way you'd try to anticipate upset and stop yourself from being too much.
"Why don't you leave him?" they'd say. "Come stay with me; you don't have to deal with that bullshit."
But his words echoed in your head. He cleaned when you were depressed. He made decisions when you were overwhelmed. According to him, he'd done so much for you that he felt more like your father than your lover and wasn't even attracted to you anymore.
If that was all true, what the hell would happen to your friendships when you became a burden to them? The simple truth was that you were paralyzed with fear at the thought of leaving. You never knew another life outside of your childhood and with him. You didn't even drive because when you tried to learn, he constantly yelled or, as always, acted as if you weighed him down. The notion of getting behind the wheel again made you panic.
But you'd finally had enough. It's how you found yourself shaking and crying in the rain, clutching a dirty public phone in one hand and a quarter in the other.
You were frozen because you didn't know who to call. You didn't want to ruin anyone's night with your drama and neediness. Your breath hitched, and you slammed the phone back into the cradle before sliding to the floor, your head in your hands.
Someone tapped on the glass door.
"Please go away," you begged. "JustâŠplease? I'm having a really shitty night." But the tapping didn't stop. It was relentless. With a huff, you wiped your swollen, sore eyes and blinked up at the intruder.
Billy Hargrove.
You glared up at him defiantly. "The hell do you want?"
You expected him to make some douchey remark or smirk down at you like the smug asshole he was in high school. Every cell of your body braced for it â just another man making you feel small. What else was new? So it surprised the hell out of you when his face came into focus and he looked worried instead. His pretty lips twitched in a frown, his brow furrowed, and there was real concern behind his eyes.
"You okay in there?" His voice was softer than you imagined it could ever be, though it still held an edge of annoyance that told you he hadn't turned into some saint. You sniffled, speechless and taken aback for a moment. When he sighed impatiently, you reached over and slid the door open.
Should I tell him the truth?
You warred with yourself internally. On one hand, you really needed a friend. On the other, Billy had never been one. You weren't sure he knew how. What you did know for certain was that you were alone, afraid, and more depressed than ever before. What the hell?
"No. I'm pretty fucking bad, actually." A self-deprecating laugh escaped you, and you shook your head as more tears fell. Billy looked like he was two seconds away from turning heel and getting the hell out of dodge; your tears made him uncomfortable â you could see it in the tense way he held his broad shoulders. The chilly wind whipped into the booth, making you shiver. "Well?" you prompted. "You coming in or what?" He hesitated for a minute more before sidling into the cramped spot with you and kneeling.
"Gonna tell me what's wrong?" he asked in a low, careful voice. He was so close you could smell whatever gum he was chewing. Big Red, if you had to guess. Warmth radiated from him despite the chilly night air, and his cologne smelled soâŠ
You shook yourself out of it. What the hell is wrong with me?
"I â yeah. Yeah, sure." You took a deep breath and tried to steel yourself against more tears. "My boyfriend, heâ"
"That sonofabitch hit you?" Billy growled. His muscles went rigid, bulging against the sleeves of his grease-smudged Aaron's Auto T-shirt. Your eyes widened; he was making a hell of an assumption.
"No! No, God no. As if I wouldn't fly off the handle if he tried." You rolled your eyes. "He's just a realâŠhe's a shithead, okay? He makes me feel fucking worthless no matter what I do, and I'm tired of it. He says I'm like a child. He's the one who moved me into his place as soon as I graduated, and now he complains because I don't live up to the version of me he idealized! I'm not neat enough or quiet enough or ambitious enough for him. And believe me, he never lets me forget it." Tears welled up again; you hastily brushed them away. "Being alone has to be better than whatever the hell this is. I know that, but I justâŠ" You trailed off.
"Just what?" he said, irritated. "Case closed. He's a goddamn cradle-robbing control freak. What more is there to say? Pack up your shit and go, I don't know, move back in with your folks for a while."
"It's not that simple." There was a whiny quality to your voice that you hated. That your boyfriend hated most of all. (Childish) Billy tilted his head and looked at you â really looked. You felt vulnerable in a way you didn't expect, like he was cracking you open and examining everything you tried to suppress. Color rose on your cheeks, and you turned away.
"Hey, don't do that. Look at me." You almost scoffed at his command, but the way he said it was soft, almost pleading. Your heart skipped a beat, and your head turned back in his direction like it was pulled by gravity.
Billy had always been attractive. He was the hottest guy in Hawkins, and he knew it. That golden, curly hair. The muscles, the tan, the confidence that rolled off of him in waves that turned every woman's legs to jelly. And there had always been rumors that he was fantastic in bed. He noticed your gaze wandering and laughed under his breath. "Don't start that shit. I'm not your Prince Charming and I'm not here to ride off with you on a white horse or something stupid like that." His features softened. "But I've been around enough controlling assholes in my life to tell you it doesn't get better. It never fucking gets better. So if you're thinking of staying â my eyes are up here, look at them â if you're thinking about staying for whatever bullshit reason the fear is giving youâŠyou'll never be free. You'll always be stuck in a cage. It's not worth all the pain that comes with itâŠis it?"
He was so commanding, and yet you didn't fear for a second that he'd belittle you or raise his voice like the others. The phone booth suddenly felt too hot, too cramped. All you could smell was cinnamon and the musk of that cologne that had made you lose your train of thought earlier.
Billy snapped your attention back to the present with another dramatic sigh. He was waiting for an answer.
"Oh. IâŠno. It's not worth it." You huffed out a bitter laugh. "But what the fuck am I supposed to do? I have nothing. No car, no money, no job now that I've been laid off. I'm useless." You froze again when his thick, calloused fingers held your chin in place, forcing you to keep eye contact.
"You're not useless. You've just been alone with that asshole for so long he's planted the idea in your head that you'd fail without him." There it was again, that tone that begged you to listen closely. It hit you all at once â he'd been through this before. He knew what it was like. These weren't empty words from a well-meaning but clueless friend. He was someone who'd made it out. Your chin trembled as fragile hope sparked in your chest.
Billy dropped his hand. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."
"N-no' I'm not scared," you stammered. "I've just never met anyone like you beforeâŠsomeone who's actually found the greener grass on the other side instead ofâ"
"Just more bullshit?" he guessed. You both smiled a little at that.
You nodded. "Yeah, exactly." Understanding passed between you, and you felt more at ease â that is, until another voice crept back in. Your face fell. "Listen. I don't know how to get to that place, though, and the last thing I wanna do is be a burden, so maybe I should justâ"
"Should just what?" he asked, that edge of irritation creeping into his voice again. "Go home and wither away? You're not a goddamn burden. If you were, I'd have gone already. I don't waste my time on whiny bullshit." Now that sounded like the old Billy. It was sort of comforting; at least you knew he wasn't lying. You opened your mouth, maybe to protest again, but the look he gave you made it clear he wasn't in the mood to argue. "We're going to get your shit. Come on." He tugged you up by the hand and you let him lead you to the Camaro he still drove all these years later. It was warm and dry inside, and the seats were comfortable.
"I don't have anywhere to go afterâ"
"Yeah, you do." Billy's knuckles tightened on the wheel like he was bracing for you to chicken out. To his surprise, you sat there silently, your hands folded neatly in your lap. You couldn't speak if you tried. You were in shock at his implicationâŠand you felt a secret thrill that clashed strangely with the dread of the inevitable confrontation.
Your boyfriend wasn't pleased when you showed up with Billy in tow. He couldn't block your way, not with Hawkins' most notorious bad boy standing right there. But he didn't need to get physical â he never did. He knew how to hurt you without lifting a finger.
He laughed in that incredulous, resentful way he always did when you triggered his temper. "Are you serious?" When you didn't answer, he followed you down the hall to the bedroom you shared. Billy wasn't far behind. "What, you gonna shack up with him now? Good fucking luck. You can't use him, he doesn't have any money!" It was another one of his favorite lines, calling you a gold digger when he knew you never got with him for financial gain. You'd loved him back when he was just a stocker at Bradley's Big Buy, before the firm hired him. You sighed; he was trying to bait you and you knew it.
"Could you just leave me alone, Danny?" You were throwing things haphazardly in boxes Billy had picked up from his work and jamming clothing into the one suitcase you owned. You couldn't afford to worry about a neat packing job; you needed to get through it fast, before you let fear win.
"Sure I'll leave you aloneâŠjust as soon as I make sure you're not stealing my shit to pawn off or something." What did he even have that was worth taking? You wanted to laugh. You wanted to spit in his face for thinking so low of you when all you'd done was try to be what he wanted. When you didn't rise to it, Danny scoffed and leaned in, forcing you to notice his derisive sneer. "Real mature. Giving me the silent treatment like the petulant CHILD you are!" Billy had been a silent presence beside you until he saw a tear roll down your cheek.
"You wanna back the fuck up, amigo?" He held out an arm to bar Danny from getting any closer. "I don't think she has anything to say to you." But Danny was like a dog with a bone.
"That's right, get another man to fight your battles for you! God knows you can't do it yourseâ" Billy's hand closed around the collar of Danny's shirt, and his feet left the ground.
"That's enough."
Danny may have been a real bastard when he was angry, but he wasn't stupid. You were left to pack the rest of your things in relative peace. The last thing you did was leave the house key on his desk with a note:Â A golden cage is still a cage. I asked for neither.
Your hands fidgeted in your lap on the drive to Billy's house, wherever that was. He hadn't said a word since the two of you left your old place. You didn't want to be the first to break the silence. You already felt indebted and didn't want to risk annoying him. He was the first to speak, somewhere on Kerley 20 minutes later.
"You good?" It was a simple question but you had no simple answer, so you shrugged and turned the focus onto him.
"You'reâŠdifferent now. What happened?" Your body shrank back into the seat as soon as the words left your mouth; you braced for anger. Instead, he just threw an amused glance your way.
"You mean, why am I not a raging asshole anymore?" Your shoulders dropped as you relaxed and a relieved smile touched your lips. He was taking everything in such stride â it gave you whiplash. You nodded, and he lit a cigarette at the red light before answering. "Three reasons. First, I got away from my piece of shit old man. It's a lot easier to sleep at night without a broken rib or a concussion." He said it like it was a joke, but it made your heart ache. You'd had no idea. Sure, you'd noticed the bruises, the cuts, the way he favored one side sometimes â you just figured they were from fighting with the other macho douchebags. "Second, I almost died once, and it put a lot of shit into perspective." Your eyes slid over to the driver's seat warily. You weren't sure if he was fucking with you. The raw honesty on his face put that to bed. "Third, court-ordered anger management classes. My punk-ass little sister says they must be working since she can stand to be around me now." He smirked and took a drag of his cigarette before holding it out to you, a silent offer.
"Thanks, but I don't smoke."
"Good. Don't start." He just kept puffing away, though. Hypocrite.
You lapsed back into silence. Memories floated to the surface of your mind, things you hadn't thought about in years. A little redheaded girl scowling at Billy as he barked something at her outside of the Palace Arcade. The same girl, skating alone, looking like she'd rather die than be in Hawkins. Billy telling his date that Little Red wasn't his sister and not to call her that anymore. The fury with which he sped out of the senior lot that day.
"Must've been something scary," you murmured. "What you went through that made you change." His knuckles tightened on the wheel until they were bone white. Those perfect lips pressed into a thin line and he threw the half-smoked cigarette out of the window.
"You could say that." He was trying hard to keep his emotions in check. The old Billy would've lashed out when you got too close to the truth, and you didn't have to be close buddies with him to know that. You bit your lip and turned your face to the window, watching the trees blur by. God, he drove fast.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pried."
"Nah, sweetheart, I'm the one who brought it up. Don't sweat it." Sweetheart? He didn't offer anything more. He wasn't ready, and you weren't about to push your luck.
Both of you were relieved when the trailer park came into view. You stopped outside one painted a pale blue with a small covered porch. "Ain't much, but it's mine," he said, swinging a leg out of the car. "Yours now, too, I guess." You watched as Billy picked up your heavy old suitcase like it was nothing and hauled it up the rickety steps. Your heart pounded in your chest at the effortless display of strengthâŠand at his assumption that you'd be staying long-term. You still weren't entirely convinced that you weren't stuck in some bizarre dream.
The hell have I done?
















