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A blue Camaro pulled up into a clearing overlooking the quarry. It parked close to the edge, but not so close that it had a chance of falling in. The driver may not be the happiest of men, but he certainly didn’t want to die tonight.
Billy Hargrove sat behind the wheel of the car. There was a fresh bruise spreading across his face, but there was no pain in his eyes. If anyone cared enough to look, they would notice this was a regular occurrence. Yet somehow no one ever did.
You see the reason Billy knew the quarry would be empty today was because it was Christmas Eve. Everyone in this middle-of-fucking-nowhere town was at home. Even the self proclaimed ‘rebellious’ kids were at home with their family, kissing ass in hopes for better Christmas presents. And it was only ever teens that came up here anyways.
It wasn’t late, not late enough that Neil would usually be annoyed anyways, but as winter assured in Hawkins, it was already dark. Billy missed the bright sun and long days of California, but he knew that was a life he had left long behind him. Even if he could return, he wasn’t sure that he’d want to. There were just too many bad memories.
He sure as fuck didn’t want to stay here though. All these whiny chicks got on his nerve- no substance, brains replaced by hairspray. Plus the weird-as-fuck ‘accidents’ that kept happening. It seemed like something strange was always going on. He was sure if Neil had his way, Billy would be the next one caught in one of those ‘accidents’.
It wasn’t that Billy was a bad son. However much he pretended otherwise, he’d always wanted his Dads approval. That was why he tried so hard, actually studied for tests, spent time driving his kid sister to her stupid arcades. She wasn’t even his real sister. He didn’t have to do that. But he was a good enough pretend brother to go as far as getting his face smashed in by Steve fucking Harrington just to protect her.
That night still give Billy the heebie jeebies. No matter how much he pried, all he could figure out that Harrington was doing was babysitting, in his own creepy, middle-of-the-woods kinda way. From what he knew of Harrington, which wasn’t as much as he’d like, he at least wasn’t the type to be a perv. And Billy knew Max, if Harrington had done anything then he’d have been the one to end the night with a baseball bat between his legs. Max could protect herself.
A weird pang of pride echoed through Billy’s chest at the thought. He’d raised her well. At least, if that was what you could call keeping her out of trouble with Neil even when she seemed to seek it so desperately.
Neil had been mad at her today. She’d torn her nicest dress whilst skateboarding, and Billy had taken the blame. He’d got a black eye for his troubles, but it was worth it. That dress had been hideous anyways. Honestly, he suspected Max had torn it purposefully so that she wouldn’t have to wear it. Anyways, whilst ripping through his room in rage, Neil had stumbled across a few… magazines. Magazines that you would expect of a teenage boy, but…
Not when they displayed men instead women.
Billy sucked in a sharp breath at the thought. Yeah, he was screwed. The second he returned home, he would be in for one hell of a beating, Christmas Eve or not. Eventually he would have to face the music, but for now… this was nice. Faint Christmas songs echoed up from the town, lights glimmering as excited families silhouetted against lit windows. People were happy.
Not everybody. A gray beemer pulled up beside Billy, the car a similar model to Harringtons precious baby. Sometimes Billy found himself wishing that Steve would look at him the same way he looked at that damn car.
His car door creaked open as Heather Holloway slid into the leather seat next to him, drawing a cigarette from her pocket and reaching over for Billy to light. He obliged, movements lazy as he pulled the lighter from his glovebox, eyes still fixed on the dark space ahead of him. Heather took a long drag, before passing it to him.
The smoke burned his lungs, the acrid taste of tar filling his lungs as he inhaled. As he blew out, he turned to face her.
“Dad being shit again?”
She didn’t look at him, taking the cigarette back for another long drag. “Yup. Yours?”
“Yup.”
They sat in silence like that for a moment, passing the cigarette back and forth as they watched the darkness carpet the Camaros windshield.
“Do you wanna do something?” Heather broke the silence, voice dull.
“I dunno.” Billy’s voice came out scratchy, throat still raw from what he wanted to say wasn’t his earlier sobbing. He would be wrong.
“Wanna fuck?” Heather sounded more bored than hopeful. They’d fucked before, and it was great and all, but it was another body that plagued Billy’s thoughts that night. Who knew Steve Harrington had done a stint in modelling?
“Nah.” He blew out a ring of smoke, watching it rise and settle against the cars roof. It was gonna stink tomorrow. He’d have to clean it out before Neil smelled anything. Bloody hypocrite.
“This radio work?” Billy hummed in confirmation, and Heather reached forwards, turning the dial. The ghostly tones of a crackly ‘It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas’ echoed out hauntingly, and Heather snorted.
“Real Christmassy. You feeling the cheer yet, William?” She flicked a piece of ash at him, and he glared back.
“Don’t call me that.” Billy growled. It was almost ironic, the music. Heather was right. Real Christmassy. Not that Billy was even sure that that was a real word.
Most teens were excited for Christmas, they knew that. Most teens didn’t see Christmas as a punishment, even more time spent with parents that had to pretend to like them for a whole day, yet somehow always failed. Merry fucking Christmas indeed.
“You got any fun plans?” Billy drawled, sarcasm lacing his voice. Heather turned to raise an eyebrow.
“Sure. Real fun. Might even beat last years record for screaming matches.” She rolled her eyes, and flopped back into the seat, tawny curls squishing against leather. In public, she always sat up straight to keep her curls in pristine condition. But she and Billy both knew that they were as fake as everything else in this town. “I can’t wait.”
“Why don’t you just,” Billy waved his hand in the air uncommittedly, “Run away?”
“Eh. Not worth the hassle.” She blew out a ring of smoke, better than Billys. He guessed she’d had more practise. He’d only started since Hawkins. “Besides, want that lovely little inheritance I’ve been kissing ass my whole life for.”
Little was an understatement. If Billy had thought his house in Hawkins was massive when he arrived, it was nothing compared to Heathers. Hers seemed build straight out of the American dream: spandrels, picket fence, and a wrap around porch to boot. Plus, her parents had a ton in steel investments, and she was their sole survivor. He couldn’t deny it, it was a sweet deal. She just had to outlast them.
“Why don’t you?”
“What?” What had they been talking about? Billy couldn’t remember. One too many hits to the head probably.
“Run away.” She turned to face him, leaning in as she stubbed out the cigarette on his console. He winced at the mark it would surely leave. “What do you have to stay for.”
Steve. That was the first thought that came to his head, and Bill hated him. There was nothing between him and Harrington except rivalry.
“The shitbird. Don’t wanna leave her with Neil.”
That was a safer answer, and it wasn’t entirely untrue. Billy did all he could to keep Max safe, but he knew that if he left he would be taking her with him. No way would he leave her here in bumfuck Indiana with nothing to keep Neil from her except fucking Susan. That bitch never did a thing. Still, that meant that he couldn’t use Max as an excuse to stay. He knew she would never want to leave, especially not now with all her perfect new friends. Especially not with him.
“Nah.”
“Nah?” What did she mean by that? She didn’t believe him? Billy knew he was a good liar, he’d had experience. Not that he was lying. Probably
“Nah. I don’t believe you.” She looked him straight in the eye m, and he could tell by her expression that she wasn’t playing around. Heather knew he was lying, and she didn’t like it.
Yet rage boiled beneath his skin. What was she implying? What did she know?
“What do you mean you don’t believe me?”
“I reckon it’s something else. Or rather, someone else.” Implication dripped from her tongue as she tilted her head to the side, surveying him. “You’ve got the hots”
Billy wrinkled his nose. He hated that phrasing. He didn’t have the ‘hots’, he didn’t even get hot. It was more like being drenched with a bucket of ice cold water, embarrassed and nervous as everyone you ever wanted to impress looked on. Heather had no clue what she was talking about.
“I’m right, aren’t I?”
He turned away from her, hiding his expression. Heather knew him too well. Even in the short time they’d known each other, they’d inexplicably bonded over their shared need for something different. Something better.
“You know I won’t stop until you tell me.”
“Fine.” He huffed, turning back to her. “I think I’m in love.”
“Oh, shit. I’m sorry.” Heather knew as much as him what love meant. It meant being tied down, it meant giving someone all that you are in exchange for a smile. It meant ownership. They’d both seen it with their parents, and they’d both sworn it off. Yet here he was.
“Me too.” He flicked at a speck of dust, gazing out into the dark. Why him? He didn’t want it. Billy wasn’t religious by any means, but he wished to god that he could get rid of these feelings. But he was so far gone, it’d take a Christmas miracle to save him.
A singular snowflake fluttered down past the window, and Billys eyes widened in surprise. It danced elegantly as it fell, pristine perfect white, pure against the dark sky. Billy had never seen snow before. He’d always thought that TVs edited it to make it look better. It was just weather after all. But that snowflake…
It was beautiful.
He turned back to see Heather watching him, eyebrow raised.
“It’s snowing.” He murmured, failing to keep the wonder from his voice. A small smile broke through, and Heather spotted it instantly, tilting her head questioningly.
“I’ve never seen snow before.” His smile broke into a grin. Heather looked at him in a mixture of surprise and confusion, before a smile slowly spread across her face too.
“How have you never seen snow?” She giggled, eyes twinkling. Billy laughed back, shoulders shaking as he doubled over in the small seat. They stopped, locking eyes.
Heathers lip twitched.
They collapsed into each other, snorting and giggling as they grabbed the dashboard for support. They had no reason to be laughing, nothing truly funny had been said. But in that moment, all the weight and expectation fell away from them, and they were just two teenagers, laughing loudly in a car at night. Too anyone that happened to drive by, it would seem perfectly normal. To Billy and a Heather, it was everything.
The snow fell harder, but they payed no mind. Though they had to leave eventually, the company of each other, of the family they’d chosen, made up for whatever would happen in their houses. Nestled away in their little cul-de-sacs, it may look like that was their happy Christmas. But there, cramped up into a dark blue Camaro, snow falling past the windows as they laughed into the night - that was where they truly felt at home.