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“Give that back,” the suntanned boy snapped.
Billy was a hungry little boy.
He wanted many things: love and attention. The beach and his surfboard. His friends. The sunny skies of California.
The warm hand of his mother combing through his hair, her face turning blurry over time.
Billy did not get to satisfy his hunger. He burned desperately for something he could not describe.
With every year, more and more was ripped from his dejected hands, making him even more possessive of what little remained. His free time. His looks and his car.
Billy was a hungry young man, and the small town of Hawkins could not feed him.
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Billy was caught in a storm, trying desperately to find his footing after his father and stepmother dragged him from always-sunny California to fog-drenched Hawkins.
“Help Susan with the boxes!” Neil yelled from the front of the truck as he chatted with the driver.
Billy bristled at his tone, but he turned to Susan without complaining.
“Just need to get these into the bedroom,” Susan nodded toward a handful of larger cardboard boxes.
They looked heavy. He shrugged and began to carry them inside. His old bruises were mostly healed, so it did not hurt as he heaved a box onto his shoulder.
Maxine, whom he never wanted as his sister, had already dragged most of her things inside, slamming the door of her new room.
Susan and Neil wanted this new life, this new beginning, more than anything. They had not stopped to think about how it would affect their children.
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When the entirety of Hawkins High saw the new kid, they fell head over heels for him. Billy continued to build walls around himself to keep people out and himself free. He paraded the Californian bad-boy stereotype around. It was much more fun to play into the things they expected him to be. The playboy, the flirt, a mean drinker and good at sports.
The Californian with the blue Camaro drove faster and faster down the winding roads that surrounded the small town like a maze.
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Chrissy Cunningham was not a poor young woman. Her parents were wealthy enough. But even silver spoons could not replace what she longed for. Love, turbulent and given freely.
She had an open heart, overflowing with affection. For her, the world was full of love, in spite of the way it actually was.
And Billy Hargrove? He was a young man who had seen how cruel the world was.
When they met, he fell in love, in spite of himself.
Headfirst, he fell in love with her.
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“Come home with me?” she asked full of hope, her smaller fingers clinging to his wrist.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Chrissy.” Her strawberry blonde hair reached down to her collarbones, framing her face like a halo. She wore the shy look of a teen trying not to fawn.
He bit his lower lip. Billy, the rising star of the basketball team, did not do normal relationships. No way. He liked being free.
However, if he played his cards right, he might get something worthwhile out of this. Billy leaned over to brush a strand of blond hair away from her cheek.
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He did not go home with her that night. Or the next.
One day after school, he was leaning against his Camaro, waiting for his step-sister. A cigarette hung from his lips as he cursed his lighter for not working.
“Need a light?” A girl’s voice asked, and Billy glanced up. The cheerleading uniform hung loosely around her. It did not fit perfectly.
He raised an eyebrow. “You again?”
“Hi,” she smiled, holding her flame up near the end of his cigarette.
He had to bend down a bit for the fire to catch. Inhaling the smoke deep into his lungs, he could feel his shoulders slacken as the nicotine hit. He blew the smoke at her face and watched as Chrissy did not move back.
“What do you want?” he demanded, brutish and cold. He wanted, no, needed, her to leave.
Chrissy stayed anyway, even when he played the bad guy.
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When Chrissy saw her reflection, she wondered how it could be her. She looked nothing like the stranger in the mirror. The blond cheerleader stood with her back straight, counting her ribs, questioning if she'd ever be good enough. For anyone.
Every word her mother hurled at her confirmed it. Too large for her age, not smart enough, not pretty enough. A waste of time and space.
As the storm over Hawkins opened its floodgates, Chrissy ran outside. Within minutes, her hair and clothes were drenched. Cold droplets of water slid down her face and neck. Her own tears joined the downpour.
With her sight turning blurry, she struggled to move down the empty road. Cold and shivering, she continued to walk. Her head hung low when she heard it.
The familiar roar of an engine.
The blue Camaro came to a stop next to her. Billy Hargrove jumped out of the driver's seat and crossed the short distance between them.
"Billy!" she cried out his name, and he pulled her into a hug.
If Chrissy had been less distracted by her own problems, she might have noticed the flinch when Billy hugged her.
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There were marks on his ribs. Blue and purple. Green and yellow. He hid them beneath a flirty smile and tight shirts.
There were bruises on his heart that he could not hide.
His gaze lingered on Chrissy whenever she hugged him. He leaned into her touch, even though he pretended not to care for affection.
He dreamed of kissing her soft lips, of picking her up and pulling her against him. Chrissy would fit into his broken form like a missing piece.
Still, he always expected her to leave first.
Because someone like him did not deserve her.
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Weeks later, they sat inside his car. The sunlight filtered through the window, bathing Chrissy in an eternal glow. She sat in the passenger seat, feet curled up underneath her. One of his car magazines settled in her lap. He could not believe she was still there.
“He hurts you, doesn’t he?” She spoke an honest question that hurt more than putting fingers into open wounds.
Billy froze. “What are you talking about?”
Chrissy locked eyes with him. “I am not stupid, Billy.” She frowned, brow wrinkling with worry.
He laughed like he could shake off the train of questions this way. “No, you’re delusional.”
“I know you can be kind. Even if you’re hiding it somewhere inside you. I can see it.”
Hearing her say that, he slammed a hand against the steering wheel.
“Billy,” she said his name with fondness. Did he really mean this much to her?
“Don’t lie to yourself.” He should tell her to drop it.
“You don’t get to push me away. I won’t let you hang yourself with a rope made from your own issues.” Her baby blues chased down his stormy ocean eyes. “You can change course. You already have in some ways.”
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Billy did not change. After so many years of pretending, being cruel and angry had become a means of protection.
They had been together for some time, and it had been perfect. Almost too perfect.
Warm and happy. Full of love.
He could not help but make things worse.
“I am leaving.”
The words hung in the silence.
He finally said it. After months of waiting for the right moment to come.
“What?” Chrissy’s voice turned feeble.
Billy rushed onward. “By tomorrow, I’ll be gone.”
His heartbeat made her next words hard to make out.
“So?” A hand reached for his cheek. “I’ll follow you. To the end of time,” she told him with unwavering faith.
“You will?” He trembled.
“Just wait for me,” she whispered softly and kissed him.
And so, they formed a plan to escape, away from Hawkins and all its expectations.
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In the end, doubt still crept into his mind. Would she actually stick with him? Even if he really was just like they said. Out of control and uncaring to a fault? A monster racing through the town in human skin?
What if he wasn’t worth the effort of her love?
The doorbell rang. Chrissy had come.
He grabbed his bag. The rest of his things were stowed away in his car. With heavy steps, he left his room and froze at the sight in front of him.
“I don’t think we’ve met.” His father stood in the entrance doorway, looming over Chrissy. She glanced over Neil Hargrove’s shoulder, meeting Billy’s terrified stare.
Billy stepped forward.
Then Neil’s rough hand clamped around his bicep.
“Where do you think you’re going?” His father spat.
His grip tightened. An open threat.
Billy bared his teeth in defiance and tore his arm out of Neil’s grasp.
He sprinted out of the house with Chrissy. By the time Neil came after them, they were already gone.
Gradually, the burning anger in Billy grew colder.
His fingers tightened around the steering wheel as they sped past the town sign. His knuckles turned bone white.
Chrissy lounged in the passenger seat, one hand brushing over Billy’s arm in a calming rhythm.
A few miles outside of Hawkins, they stopped at a gas station. They leaned against his blue Camaro, their bodies pressed against each other. Chrissy’s spine pushed against his chest.
“You really wanna go?” Billy asked, his chin leaning onto Chrissy’s shoulder. He was afraid she'd change her mind. Her hair tickled his nose as he kissed the soft flesh of her neck.
She turned slightly, looking back at him with soft, warm blue eyes. “With all my heart.”
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Chrissy Cunningham ran away with a hungry young man.
One whose eyes burned with anger—until he looked at her.
The meanest boy she’d ever met.
Billy Hargrove.