Chapter Text
Joyce
Joyce Byers has seen many injuries over her life. She has seen the gaping, bleeding holes the Demogorgon left, the punctures that the demodogs inflicted, and all manner of cuts and scrapes from her boys and their friends. And she’s seen the kind of wounds that are more sinister, more insidious. She’s seen the bruises, the black eyes you can’t explain, blooming on her own skin, the kind of wounds that come from a place that is supposed to heal and protect, not hurt. Those injuries form the words to a language she is all too fluent in, and she knows them when she sees them.
She hasn’t had to speak the language since she saw the words form on the face of her son for the first time, but she knows she just spotted them again. She saw Billy Hargrove’s black eye as he sat in his car, waiting to pick sweet little Max up. And, in a split second, she knew that he hadn’t walked into a wall, he hadn’t tripped and fell, and he sure as hell hadn’t gotten into a fight, no matter what that bitch, Susan Hargrove, told her when Joyce asked when she was ringing her up at Melvald’s. She knew as soon as she laid eyes on the woman that Susan Hargrove knew nothing of the language her and Billy spoke and she knew from the look on her face when she asked about Billy that Susan was perfectly aware of what was going on in her house, and just didn’t give a shit.
Well, it’s no wonder the poor boy gets himself into so much trouble. He doesn’t have anyone to care about him!
In that moment, as she watched Susan walk away secure in the knowledge that Neil Hargrove wouldn’t raise a hand to her, Joyce Byers swore to herself that she would be the one to care about Billy Hargrove if it was the last thing she ever did.
Joyce Byers suddenly started to spend a lot of time driving around near Old Cherry Road at night. Eventually, she knew, Hargrove (that rat bastard) would beat up his son and then toss him out so Max wouldn’t realize what had occurred. One cold November evening, her patience paid off.
Billy
Billy Hargrove dragged himself down the road, wrapping his jacket tighter around his body. Neil had been really pissed tonight, as evidenced by the state of his face. Usually, his father went for the torso and back, since they were more easily hidden, but he had lost it tonight and practically cracked Billy’s face open. After it was over, Neil had kicked him out of the house into the cold with nothing but a leather jacket. Asshole. He hated these nights. They were few and far between, but when they happened, the pains sleeping on the ground followed him for ages. As he resigned himself to an unpleasant night, he spotted the headlights of a car coming down the road. Who the hell is drivin’ around at this time of night? The car stopped next to him and the window rolled down. Billy started to really get nervous, but then he recognized the face of Joyce Byers, the mother of one of Maxine’s little friends and relaxed. He knew she was single. Maybe she was looking for some company for the night. Before he could start on his routine, she spoke.
“Hey, Billy. Get in the car, I’m taking you to my house and taking a look at that face of yours,” she said, opening the door of the car.
“No thanks, ma’am, I’m just fine. Got in a little fight, you know how it is,” Billy lied, confused. She fixed him with an unimpressed look.
“Sweetheart, it ain’t a fight when only one person is throwing punches. Don’t try to deny it, I’ve been right there with you, kiddo. I know what it looks like. Let me guess, he had a rough day at work, made up a new B.S. rule as soon as he laid eyes on you as though it was some sort of excuse, then beat you bloody?” Billy looked at her, preparing to lie or insult her until she hated him, but there was something in her eyes that pulled him up short. There was no pity, only compassion, and Billy had a feeling that this woman was going to get him to do what she wanted, one way or another. He got in the car and sat next to her. She looked at him and stuck her hand out.
“I don’t think we’ve officially met yet. Joyce Byers.” He shook it.
“Billy Hargrove.”
“Pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise,” said Billy and, for once, meant it.