Don’t Stay
SUMMARY: PLZ BILLY HARGROVE ANGST. He makes a mistake by sleeping with another girl because he’s scared of how much he’s changing for you. And tries to prove that he doesn’t want the player life anymore
PAIRING: Billy Hargrove x Reader
WORD COUNT: 3.8k
WARNINGS: Language, angst, angst, angst
He had no idea why he’d done it, had no idea how he even thought he could get away with it. Sara Christensen had a mouth like a largemouth bass, and even he knew word would get around school on Monday and spread like wildfire.
It was why, when you inevitably found out, he had nothing to say to you as he stood on your doorstep after school on Wednesday. You didn’t know what to say either; your head was void of all thought and emotion, but inside your chest, your heart was cleaved in two.
He at least had the nerve to look sorry; in fact, he looked absolutely distraught over what he did. His hair was mussed and his eyes were ringed in red, suggesting he spent quite some time crying over his stupid fucking mistake. A mistake that most definitely wasn’t worth losing you.
“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he mumbled, hanging head low. He raked his hands through his curly blond locks, tugging at them in distress. “I don’t even have a good fucking excuse. I’m just…so sorry.”
You could tell he was being sincere; you’d come to know him pretty well and you wanted to believe he had changed. In some ways, he had, such as keeping his anger in check. He no longer flew off the handle quite so quickly, choosing instead to take a few deep breaths before proceeding. He didn’t fight quite as often either, and you were proud every time he chose to walk away. However, it was clear that his issues with commitment hadn’t changed, and that broke your heart. Not just for you, but for him as well.
“Okay,” was all you said before you closed the door in his face. Billy’s face crumpled, and the worst pain he’d ever felt in his life exploded in his chest. It was worse than any of Neil’s blows or jabs at how he was a constant disappointment. The one good thing he had in his life was gone, and it was all his fault.
Billy walked dejectedly back to his car, his shoulders slumped and head bowed. The slamming of a door made him look up towards your bedroom window. It was wide open, giving him full access to hear the agonizing wail that left your mouth as you knocked a few items off your desk in rage and heartbreak. It killed him to see you react that way to something he did; he never wanted to see that look on your face as you sat on your bed, crying heavily.
He watched you for a few minutes, his heart sinker lower and lower into his gut, until he felt like a huge creep and got into his car and drove away. He didn’t go home; instead, he went out to Lover’s Lake, where the two of you spent your fourth date, and he’d taken your virginity in the backseat of his Camaro. It hadn’t been exactly how you wanted it to go, but when he asked you to be his, it made it all worth it.
You thought you’d tamed the untameable Billy Hargrove. What a fucking joke.
You woke up the next morning like you had a hangover. Your head was sore, and your eyes were puffy from all the crying into your pillow you did, until you realized it smelled like Billy and hurled it across the room. Your chest felt like it was on fire; you hadn’t imagined heartbreak would feel like this, but you fell for Billy harder than you anticipated. Once he let you in, he made it easy. The Billy you got to see outside of school was a complete opposite to the front he put on for his friends; he was sweet, and genuinely funny, and even a bit cheesy in the horrible pick-up lines he’d murmur into your bare skin was he was in one of his rare goofy moods. He was still possessive as hell, giving other guys a threatening glare if they so much as blinked in your direction, and you never walked without at least an arm over your shoulder or a hand in your back pocket. It was a classic telltale sign that you belonged to Billy, and only to Billy.
Normally you’d balk at the idea of belonging to any man, but you were irrevocably and unapologetically his, and you didn’t mind it in the least, because he was just as much yours.
Well, until Sara Christensen decided she wanted a taste of him.
The name sat bitterly in the back of your head as you sluggishly got ready for school. You’d slept like shit anyways, awake at 4 AM, so you used the extra time to make yourself up as if you hadn’t been ugly-crying into your sheets a few hours earlier. When you finished, you looked normal; the bags under your eyes were hidden by concealer, your red-rimmed eyes lined in eyeliner and mascara, and a pretty shade of caramel eyeshadow coated your lids. For the hell of it, you swiped on some burgundy lipstick. Fake it till you make it.
Your outfit was a pair of form-fitting jeans, your tennis shoes, and a pretty floral blouse. You’d be damned if you let anyone see how truly broken up you were over Billy Hargrove. With this new outlook in mind, you left for the school, arriving thirty minutes before the first bell was supposed to ring.
You sat at a bench outside the school, going over the homework you finished last night before your entire world came crumbling down. You were halfway through proofreading your English essay when Nancy Wheeler, Steve Harrington, and Jonathan Byers sat down around you at the bench. It was a ragtag group, that was for sure, since Steve and Nancy were ex-lovers and Jonathan was the wallflower of the school.
“We heard,” Nancy began empathetically. “We’re so sorry, Y/N.”
Despite Nancy and Steve’s obvious dislike for Billy (especially so for the latter), they were sincerely sorry to hear your relationship had taken a nosedive into a concrete floor. It made your mouth quirk up at the corners, thankful that you had such understanding friends. They didn’t badmouth Billy, no matter how badly they wanted to; they weren’t his biggest fans at all, and the same could be said for Billy, too.
Thirty minutes went by in a blur, having lost yourself in making plans with your friends; a movie night on Saturday was the perfect way to distract yourself from the turmoil warring inside. The bell echoed across the courtyard and you stood up with your friends to venture inside. Out of habit, your eyes scanned the parking lot and they found Billy, leaning up against his Camaro with his arms crossed. You couldn’t really make out the expression on his face, so you averted your eyes and followed Nancy into the school. Fortunately, you had first period with Nancy, and so she stood by you at your locker, glaring off anyone who dared whisper within five feet of you.
When you entered your first period class, all conversation ceased, and your classmates looked at you with a mixture of sympathy, disgust, and humor. Did she really think she could change Billy Hargrove? How stupid can you be?
I heard he actually loved her, then he went and fucked it all up. If you ask me, he’s the idiot.
Nancy squeezed your shoulder as you sat down at your desks, side by side towards the back of the room. You were positive that she was the only thing keeping you from bolting from the room and hightailing it home.
By lunchtime, the whispers and gossip was a constant flurry of white noise. Nancy helped you tune it out, pulling you into a conversation instead about your upcoming English project. She knew you loved the subject, and she kept you occupied by keeping you talking about the book you planned to write about. It helped a bit, until lunch was over and you walked back to your locker to swap out books for the second half of the day.
Billy was down the hall, leaning his shoulder against the lockers and looking every bit disinterested in what Sara Christensen was saying.
You inhaled sharply once you figured out who was latching onto his arm and you had to look away. Nancy glared at him down the hallway, harshly enough that even Billy winced.
“He really has the nerve?” she hissed angrily, tossing another glare over her shoulder. “What an insolent ass.”
“He isn’t listening,” you mumbled before you could stop yourself. You closed your eyes tightly before opening them again. You risked a glance over Nancy’s shoulder and wished you hadn’t. Billy had spotted you, and he was giving you his best ‘please forgive me’ look, an expression you hadn’t seen since the last time he got in a fight after he promised you he wouldn’t.
“I wish it wasn’t so hard,” you said, leaving Nancy no time to respond to your earlier comment. “Seeing him.”
“I know,” Nancy sighed, running a hand down your back. “It was like that with Steve but you just…learn to tune it out.”
As you opened your mouth to speak, Sara Christensen came sashaying down the hall. When her snake-like eyes landed on you, she smirked cruelly.
“How’s it feel to know you’ll always be second choice?” she taunted, spinning gracefully on her heel to address you as she walked backwards. “Billy and I are headed to the drive-in tonight, but I doubt we’ll be watching the movie.”
You huffed angrily and slammed your locker closed, your eyes glaring at her as she turned and walked down the hall. You turned towards Nancy, who was giving you a saddened look.
“Let’s go,” you muttered, letting your shoulders sag. You startled backwards though when a body stepped in front of you. The familiar scent of cigarettes and cologne wafted into your nose and it made your eyes water from the memories it brought forth.
Slowly you let your eyes meet Billy’s. He was chewing on his lip in a way that he knew drove you crazy, but his eyes were broken, lifeless almost. Good.
“Whatever she just said to you,” he mumbled, gesturing vaguely in the direction Sara had gone, “it’s a lie. I’m not into her.”
You scoffed loudly, relishing a bit when he winced. “That’s funny, considering you were into her on Saturday. But I’m glad to know that all of those months together meant fuck all to you. Do us both a favor, Hargrove, stay away from me.”
With that you brushed by him, bouncing your shoulder off of his in what you hoped was a definitive manner. But Billy never was good at picking up hints, no matter how blatant.
“I’m proud of you for that,” Nancy told you honestly as the two of you continued to class.
“Thanks Nance. I think this might be easier than I thought it would be.” She smiled. “It hurts a bit but, let’s be honest here, who’s the real loser? Me or him?”
“Definitely him,” she replied on a laugh.
Once school was over, it was a relief. You’d get a reprieve from the stares and the murmurs and the rumors about why Billy Hargrove would cheat on you, or what you weren’t doing in bed to keep him satisfied. It was disgusting really, the lengths your peers would go to to get a rise out of either you or Billy.
And a small part of you was relieved to hear he wasn’t rising to the bait.
You bid Nancy goodbye in the parking lot, parting ways as she headed off to Jonathan’s car and you to yours. In the back corner, Billy was once again leaning against the hood of his Camaro, only this time, he was arguing with Sara. His booming voice carried clear across the parking lot, and you had to bite back a triumphant smirk when he told Sara where she could shove her propositions.
Even though the two of you were over, you weren’t going to pretend to feel sorry for her. Not one bit.
He met your eyes as Sara stomped away, ever the petulant child who hasn’t gotten her way. Unfortunately Billy could read you like a book, and even from the distance he could see the smirk you were fighting. His expression turned loving as he watched you walk to your car, and he merely nodded slowly in your direction. You didn’t return it.
Once home, that painful wedge that Billy had unintentionally driven into your heart began to shift again. You had no distractions now except homework from the utter heartache that coursed through you. You felt faint as you carried yourself up to your room, quickly explaining to your mother that you weren’t feeling well. There was no Nancy, no teachers, no classes or notes needing to be taken to distract you.
So you dropped your bag on the floor and sat heavily onto your bed, your eyes blurring as they fell out of focus and a fresh wave of tears rose. You didn’t bother holding them back. Rather, you grabbed a pillow and buried your face in it to muffle the sounds of your sobs. The last thing you wanted was to explain to your mother that her predictions about the boy you were seeing were right.
For two hours you hadn’t moved except to change into a pair of pajamas and pull your photo album into your lap. You knew you’d be treading on thin ice by looking at them, but you needed to. A sick form of self-validation for not taking him back after word got out that he fucked Sara Christensen.
With a sniffle you opened the album, flipping past the baby photos that your mom had given you, past the photos at Christmastime, and Fourth of July, and your 8th grade graduation. You choked up when you came to the first set of photos; you’d just gotten the polaroid camera as a birthday gift from your father, and Billy was the first person you wanted to try it out on. The first photo was his hand as he tried to block you from snapping his picture. When he realized you wouldn’t stop until you got him standing still, he gave up and posed for you.
That was the next set, a collection of goofy poses of Billy. Your bottom lip trembling, you touched his face in one of the photos. He was so different when he wasn’t at school or taking insult after blow after insult from his dad. He was a normal teenager.
Looking at your history together only served to make you cry harder; it didn’t make you angry with him, didn’t help you decide it was better to move on. It just made you sad, so incredibly sad that you buried your head in your hands and cried. The photo album slid off your lap, hitting the carpet with a muffled thud, but you didn’t pay it any mind.
God, your throat was sore from crying.
Wiping your eyes as best as you could to hide your upset, you headed to the kitchen and pulled a water bottle out of the fridge. Your parents were on the couch in the living room, engrossed in a movie so they didn’t even hear you creep back up to your room. You sipped at the water as you headed back to your room, gasping aloud and clutching a hand to your chest at the figure suddenly in your room.
“Billy,” you hissed through clenched teeth, closing the door softly behind you. “What the fuck are you doing here?” He was swaying on his feet, and as you got closer you noticed his eyes were glassed over.
“Are you…are you drunk?” you asked incredulously.
He held a hand up and pinched his fingers together. “Just a bit.”
“You can’t be here.” You crossed your arms over your chest to keep yourself from reaching out to him. His presence was causing both great relief and great discomfort.
“‘M so sorry, baby,” he mumbled drunkenly. He attempted to take a step forward and instead face-planted into your mattress. It took all of your strength not to run to his side; you’d always taken care of him when he was drunk. Usually it was after a particularly bad night of him playing the role of Neil’s punching bag.
“How did you get in here?” His arm lifted and pointed at the window. His arm hit the bed with a thump. “You picked the lock?!”
Billy sat up as if he was in slow motion; his face was pinched as he sat cross-legged on your bed, picking idly at the quilt on the bed.
“Had to see you,” he mumbled. His eyes lifted slowly to yours before dropping back down. “Had to tell you I was sorry.”
“I know you are. But that doesn’t mean you get to break into my room whenever you feel like it,” you shot back hotly. Having him in such close proximity was doing terrible things to your self control. You dug your nails into your arms, creating crescent moons into the skin.
“Had to tell you that I-I love…I love you. Had to tell you that….”
You scoffed rudely. “You have a hell of a way of showing it, Hargrove.”
“Please don’t call me that. You only call me that when-when you’re really angry….”
“Because I am really angry! You cheated on me, Billy, thinking I wouldn’t find out but Sara Christensen’s lips are as loose as her vag!”
“I didn’t do it to hurt you….” His voice was thick; the alcohol in his system was loosening his tongue.
“Then why did you?” Honest curiosity was niggling at your brain. This oughta be good.
“I was scared.”
Your arms dropped to your signs in a brief moment of surprise, but you pulled your resolve back together and crossed them again.
“What could the great Billy Hargrove possibly be scared of?” you asked scathingly. He looked up at you, insecurity slowly creeping behind his irises.
“You.”
This time the surprise registered clearly on your face, and Billy took the momentary pause to plow forward, his speech becoming clearer the more he spoke. “I’m scared of you. I’m scared of what’s happening to me because of you. I don’t recognize myself anymore because I’ve changed. Because of you. You got in my head somehow and you made me want to be better. And I….I fucked up because I was scared. I thought I was going soft, falling for you the way I did and so I….and Sara was there and….fuck, I’ve never regretted anything so much in my whole life. I don’t want to be that person anymore, Y/N. The “Keg King of Hawkins”, a manwhore who sleeps with girls and then breaks their hearts. I don’t want to pick fights anymore. You made me like that, and for the first time I actually liked the person I’d become. I want to keep being that person because I know that person actually stands a chance of being good enough for you. But I can’t….I can’t do it by myself. I need you.”
His gaze wandered to you, standing stock-still in front of your closet, your eyes squeezed closed as tears fell down your cheeks. You inhaled a sob as you heard the bed shift, and you felt him before you saw him standing in front of you.
“Baby….” he murmured, reaching hesitantly for you. You opened your eyes, waved him away, and he lowered his arms but remained where he was.
“You….you make it so hard, Billy,” you sobbed. Your hands came up to run through your hair. He was frowning deeply, feeling his throat close with emotion as you all but fell apart before him. “You…you make it so…so goddamn hard to be angry with you! But I should be! I am! Because you broke my heart, Billy. You…you made me trust you and then you turned around and went back to the person everyone told me you were.”
He didn’t bother hiding the flinch from you. Your words stung.
You pushed on. “You hurt me, Billy, so, so badly and I…I can’t forgive you for that. Not yet. I’m….I’m not ready to. I can’t trust you now, and I hate that that hurts me to say, because I should be able to trust you. I gave you everything I had and you…threw it away. You threw it all away!”
You had to fight to keep the hysteria out of your voice. Billy’s bottom lip was trembling and he bit it to keep himself in check. All he wanted was to hold you against him, but he didn’t. Instead, he took a small step back and you felt like you could breathe again for a moment.
“Can I….is there any way you can trust me again?” he asked in a small voice.
You breathed deeply. “I don’t know yet, B.” The nickname brought a small flicker of relief to his eyes. You gestured between you. “This is still too fresh and too painful to really think about that right now.”
He nodded, accepting it because at least you were talking to him.
“I’ll give you all the time you need,” he agreed. “I just needed you to know how important you are to me, and how sorry I am for fucking up and especially for hurting you.”
You nodded once, keeping your eyes averted because you knew you’d go back on your word if you looked at him. He made to step away, but then he was struck with an idea that may or may not get him smacked.
He moved slowly to wind his arms around you and pull you into his chest. You didn’t fight him; instead, you selfishly relished in his warmth and even rested your hands on his sides, relaxing a bit in his embrace. You squeezed your eyes closed when he pressed a firm but gentle kiss to your forehead. Before you were ready he let you go, taking steps backwards to the window he came through.
Your watery eyes met him and he gave you one last longing look before he turned to duck out of the window. You didn’t want him to; you wanted him to stay, curl up beside you on your bed and run his fingers through your hair as you fell asleep to the rhythm of his heartbeat.
But you needed him to go. If you wanted any chance to heal, he couldn’t stay, no matter how hard your heart pounded against your ribcage, as if it was trying to fight its way out of your chest to be with him.
Because even you knew that it belonged to Billy, and only to Billy.
