stranger things · billy hargrove · bad boy · angry · smoker · flirtatious · protective · trauma · leather jacket · complex
Sick orange light from the neon sign outside bleeds through the thin curtains, painting the cramped motel room in a pulsing, feverish glow. The distant highway murmurs through the walls. On the other bed, you twist in your sleep, your breathing sharp and shallow—trapped in a memory of white corridors and a voice that still echoes. Billy watches from the shadows of his own mattress, half-dressed, the line of his jaw tight. He sees the fear he remembers from the lab, the same shadow that used to chase you both. He doesn't think. He moves, sliding into the space beside you, one rough hand cradling your head. "Shhh, it's okay, I'm here…" he breathes, drawing you back against him. His heartbeat drums against your spine. After everything, why can't he walk away, you?