#stealing billy hargrove from the duffers

[hogwartsandhawkins]

Prove Me Wrong

Prologue: We're Not Friends

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Masterlist

Ok here it is! The prologue for my nine (maybe longer) part fic for Billy Hargrove. I haven't written anything for a very long time, and I've never written an imagine or fic before so be mindful and go easy on me! But hopefully, it's well-liked despite the trash writing.

Also, I gave her a name, considering I'll be writing the same character for 9 parts, I feel like not giving her a name wouldn't feel right.

Summary: Max convinces you to watch over Billy.

Word Count: 1992

Warnings: Mentions of blood. Lots of swearing. I mean it's Billy Hargrove. Let me know if I missed anything

Author's Note: Please, do not steal my work. This prologue and all the following chapters of this story are my original work, and I have worked very hard on each part I post. Reposts are always appreciated but copying and pasting any of these and posting them as your own is not, including translations without my permission.

The characters from the Netflix series are not my own, excluding the OC, and belong to Netflix and the Duffer Brothers.

Jess Logan sat at the edge of the Byers’ couch, anxiously staring at the floor, or rather, the person laying on the floor unconscious. Blood slowly found its way from the boy’s nose to the wooden floor. Jess was unsure whether to stay seated or to hurry and wipe the blood away, ensuring Joyce would not have to deal with a stain later. She began to rise, but then the sound of leather rubbing against the floor disrupted her and forced her back down. A feeble attempt to stand up from the boy was met with a groan. 

“What … the fuck?”

Billy Hargrove held his head between both hands and began to look over his setting. He wasn’t at a party. The house was much too empty for that. He also could hold his liquor, so this couldn’t be a hangover after blacking out. Did he get knocked out? Lose a fight? Hell no. He was Billy fucking Hargr- wait. It started to come back to him. Max. Where was she? Panic began to kick in as he realized where he was and why. He started to look around much more frantically, making his head spin and his eyes water. 

Jess did nothing except hold her breath and sit completely still, hoping that maybe, Billy would miss her entirely. It was only when Billy propped himself on his elbows did he notice the girl staring right at him. She looked as if she has just seen a ghost, and that if she were to move, a bomb might set off, disintegrating the entire house. Embarrassment began to set in, which quickly turned into anger as he realized she has been here the whole time, witnessing him like this. He was about ready to unleash this anger on her for continuing to stare wordlessly when he suddenly hears Max’s voice in his head. SAY YOU UNDERSTAND. He winces at this, remembering the numbness traveling through his body and the sound of cracking wood. 

Jess notices this reaction as well but chalks it up to be pain. If this monster even feels pain. Jess too has a flashback from earlier this night, but it included what happened before Billy’s memory. It included how Billy wouldn’t stop, even after Steve didn’t, couldn’t, fight back. It included Billy’s pin-pointed yet blank eyes, hyper-focused on her best friend’s pain-stricken face as he continued to wail down on the helpless boy, wearing what Jess remembers as a smile on Billy’s face, as if he was enjoying the show he put on only for himself.  

He shifts his wince to a sweet, charming smile, quite different than the one Jess remembers earlier, scrunching his nose ever so slightly, and begins to devour every inch of this girl with his eyes. He quickly recognizes her as the co-captain of the cheer team, Jessica Logan. He then slowly drops his grin, morphing it into a smirk as he continued to eye her, hoping to have some effect on her, waiting for her to relax her features at least slightly. She doesn’t move. He again flashed her his winning smile, and threw in a head nod, hoping to get her to budge, but what little effect his silent advances would normally have on Jess were further dulled by the blood-caked teeth, bloodied nose, and split-opened knuckles, which further reminded her of why she couldn’t wait to be out of his presence and made her even stiffer, if possible. When it became obvious the girl across from him had no intention of breathing, let alone talking, he sighed and decided to break the silence, dropping his smile once more. 

“Sorry, dollface, but cou- “

“Don’t call me that.”

So she speaks. “What?” 

“Dollface. Don’t call me that.”

“Okayy... so what do I call you then?” His question dripped with honey as he attempted to shift himself closer to where she was sitting.  He watched her intently, shifting the inside of his cheek between his teeth as he did so. He watched as she squirmed, trying to think of how to answer him, and he enjoyed the effect he had on her, the effect he thought he had on her. 

“Jocelyn.” 

“Isn’t your name Jess?” 

Shit “Well yeah.. but it’s my middle name.” She beat herself up for one, thinking about the ridiculous idea to try and lie about her name, and two, for continuing the ridiculous lie after she’d been caught, but she prayed that this would be their final confrontation, and she’d graduate, or even better, he’d drop out sooner than she graduates, and they’ll never have to see each other again… 

“… Right. So, uh, Jess Jocelyn,” Billy continued to eye her until turning his attention to the now empty kitchen, the last place he remembered Max being. Still propped on his elbow, he continued, “would you be able to tell me where Max is?” 

“Uh, your sister? Well she’s-“ 

“Don’t call her that.” 

“So what do I call her then?” She mimicked the way he previously asked this question, leaning in as if she was interested. She hated the way Billy treated his stepsister. At least, hated the fear in Max’s eyes when she talked about him. Jess never saw anything behind the scenes, but she didn’t have to. She could recognize that kind of fear from anywhere.  

Billy genuinely beamed this time, finding her mocking tone amusing, even if it was a jab at him. “Just call her Max.” 

“Right, well,” Jess began to falter. She couldn’t exactly tell him where she was, let alone why she was there, “Max. She’s gone.” 

“Gone? What do you mean gone?” The anger crept in again, and when he reached for his keys, he had no intention of keeping it in any longer. “Where. the FUCK. are my KEYS.” He was no longer looking into the empty kitchen, but straight back at her. He was no longer smiling. Instead, he attempted to sit straighter than he was previous and sent an icy cold stare at Jess, jaw clenching as he did so. 

“likeisaid. She’s gone.” 

Jess tried to force herself to become smaller somehow and avoided Billy’s piercing eyes, finding the Byers’ random array of throw rugs a better sight than Hargrove’s angry gaze. His eyes widened at her answer. “No. nonono this cannot be..” Panic began to replace the anger. He started to pat himself down, hoping that Max and her stupid friends left by anything other than his beloved Camaro. How was he going to bring her home now? “How long ago did they leave?” Desperation coated his question, and Jess almost started to feel bad for him.  

“Dunno, awhile ago, Billy. Wait!” 

Billy began to turn from his elbow onto his palm and pushed himself up. His head began to spin as the blood found itself elsewhere, but Billy could not focus on that right now. He needed to leave, he needed to catch up to them. “Where did she g-“and with this, he stumbled, causing Jess to leap to steady him, which she instantly regretted as he may have fallen unconscious after falling, maybe hitting his head, and that seemed to be a better alternative to him conscious and asking all the wrong questions. Maybe if I just dropped him… She shook these intrusive thoughts from her head and brought him over to where she was sitting for the entirety of their interaction and helped him lean against the back of the couch. 

“Shit. SHIT.” Billy smashed the backside of his fist against the couch, making Jess jump. “Sorry.” Billy sighed, then his smirk slowly made an appearance again, but this time it wasn’t aimed at her. He began to chuckle at himself and continued until he started shaking his head. Acceptance replaced the fear in his tone, and he knew. He was utterly screwed. “Fuck Jess, I can’t leave here without her.” He was looking up at the ceiling now, the back of the couch pushed up against Billy’s neck, perfectly cradling his not-so-steady head. and Jess looked up as well, wondering what he could be possibly staring at. “Neil is going to kill me.”

 “Is.. is Neil your dad?”

“Mm.” 

She looked back over at him as she continued, “Well, she’ll be back, and then you guys can go home.” At this, Billy looked over at the clock which indicated it was already midnight. 

“Great.” 

Billy cracked a smile again, chuckling at what awaited him at home. “Could you maybe rinse your mouth with water or something?” Billy immediately dropped his smile and looked over at her with confusion, visibly hurt by this request. Billy proceeded to lift his hand to his mouth, but before he could try and “discreetly” gage his breath, Jess began to laugh while wildly shaking her head back and forth.  “No! No, it’s just, you know, the blood.” 

Billy had somehow forgotten his fight with Harrington but was relieved to know it wasn’t a lack of personal hygiene that was causing her to wince at every smile this whole time. Jess then hurried to the kitchen, avoiding the smashed plate and the fallen clutter on the floor, to grab a glass and fill it with water. She then proceeded back to Billy and began to attempt to bring the glass to his lips.

“I’m not paralyzed, you know.” 

“Right” She hands, more like pushes, the glass into Billy’s palm, causing some of the water to spill onto Billy’s arm, however, he doesn’t even notice as he starts to realize how thirsty he truly was with the reminder that water exists in this house. He washed the glass down within seconds of it reaching his hand and gives it back to Jess. “You were supposed to – “

“Yeah. Uh, could you?”

“Yup,” and you’re up again, soon handing him another glassful. This time, he takes the water and swishes it in his mouth, then stops, unaware of whether he should spit it back into the glass or swallow it to save you from having to see the orange-red liquid return into the cup. As if she was able to read his thoughts, she nods and tells him to “go ahead”, and Billy does as he’s told, spitting the water back into the glass.

“Uh, Sorry.”

“Don’t worry bout it.” 

She takes the cup from him and pours the liquid down the drain and rinses out the glass thoroughly. Poor Joyce, she thought as she maneuvered through the kitchen one last time, returning to Billy with a different glass, again full of water. Billy thanked her, and without another word, downed the water with two gulps and set the glass between his legs. He then repositioned back to where he was previous, and Jess followed suit. 

“So why are you here?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you here, and not with them?”

“Someone had to stay here and make sure you didn’t get into any more trouble.”

“Yeah, but why you and not someone else?” 

“Max thought you would be more civil since, according to her, we run in the same circle, and well, Steve wasn’t in any position to stay…”

The thought of Steve having to be carried away stuck with Jess, and it was her turn to be angry. “So Max told you to stay. I didn’t realize a thirteen-year-old child ran this shit show. I guess she’s right though, considering we’re friends now and all.” Billy now stared back at her, and she didn’t like this new twinkle in his eye. He then flicked his lips with his tongue and flashed yet another not-so-original smile, one she could see right through, one that he seemed to have practiced in the mirror a dozen times before this interaction, and though his mouth was no longer dark red, she liked this smile much less than the ones previously. 

“Steve Harrington. He’s my friend. You and me. We’re not friends.”

[slut4supersoldiers]

Vegemite

Summary: Billy thinks you really like really love Vegemite but he wants to know if you really like really have a thing for him too. OR the one where some strange series of events push the reader to find a side of Billy Hargrove she didn't know existed.

Pairing:  Billy Hargrove  x Newby Fem reader

Words: 2k+

Warning: Brief mention of PTSD in the form of nightmares and SOFT!Billy.

A/n: I do not condone Billy Hargrove’s behaviour in Stranger Things. (That being said this is just how I imagine he would have been had the Duffers not done him dirty and shown him as a one dimensional douche bag). Sorry its long! I OWN NEITHER STRANGER THINGS NOR THE GIFS.

I woke up again drenched in sweat with my heart beating at an uneven pace. With shaky, clammy hands I pushed the blanket off of my body and looked over at the clock on the bedside table. 3:05. There was no point in tossing and turning as I knew that sleep would not take over me till the snippets of the nightmare completely disappeared. So as per usual I walked to the kitchen to get some cold water in hopes of calming my nerves.

After chugging down the third glass of water, I set the glassware down and rested my forehead against the wall. The moment of peace however was short-lived as somebody whispered my name making me spin in around in surprise.

Will was standing before me in his pajamas looking as a pale as a ghost. The bags under his eyes looked prominent.

“Will. Why are you up this late?” I asked as I walked towards him and smoothed out his hair.

“Couldn’t sleep.” He whispered in a frail voice, the trembling of his lower lip did not go unnoticed.

“Hey buddy, come on lets tuck you in bed, yeah?” I couldn’t think of any other logical solution.

When he nodded I led him to his bed. We passed Jonathan who had passed out on the couch in the hall. Will and Joyce still had their own rooms while Jonathan decided to give me his room when Joyce took me in their house. 

After tucking Will in I switched off the bedside lamp and decided to head to my room but I stopped when Will suddenly grabbed my hand.

“(Y/n) do you miss him? Your dad?” He asked me; softly and cautiously.

“Yes bud. I do.” I smiled at the boy and ran my hand over the drawing that Will had made. 

Sighing I bid Will goodnight and walked to my room. He already blamed himself for half the things that had gone down i didn't want to make him feel guiltier. Finally I shut my eyes hoping for sleep to takeover but all the while I lied awake thinking about how different life would have been if my dad would have been alive.

Like every morning the Byers and I got ready in a haste. Joyce came over to me like she did every day, kissed my forehead and said, “Bob is watching over us and he is proud of you. So am I.” She smiled through her tears muttered a sorry and ran towards her car. Jonathan had already left as he was busy with yearbook duties. That left Will and I. We finally made our way to school in what used to be my dad’s car.

My dad, Bob Newby’s death was hard on all of us especially Joyce and I. After his death I knew I couldn’t stay in my dad’s house. Staying in the old house only brought back memories that once I held close to my heart but now the same memories had began to prick at my heart. Joyce took me in and nobody objected. Since then I grew close to the Byers and everyone around them but especially to Will. So much so that I could instantly read him based on his behaviour. That’s how I figured out something was bothering him.

“Hey Will? You okay there?” I glanced at Will who sat on the passenger’s seat looking out of the window.

“Yeah.” He murmured half-heartedly.

“Is it the nightmares?” I asked cautiously.

“Yeah, no it’s just some school stuff.” He shook his head.

“Anybody giving you a hard time?” I briefly looked at him.

“No.” He replied quickly. That was a tell-tale sign that he was lying. But seeing as we had approached school I decided to let it slide.

I just gave him a smile and promised him that we would talk about it after A/V club when I’d pick him up. He nodded and ran towards the entrance of the school. As usual I waited till he entered the doors. However, instead of going to the door he walked to a car, a blue car. Wait, not just a blue car it was a blue Camaro with a California number plate. Had it not been the first ring going off drawing my attention, my eyes would have fallen out of the sockets after looking at Will interacting with none other than the notorious Billy Hargrove. I gripped the steering wheel tightly. Is this the “school stuff” that Will was referring to? I decided to confront Billy about this in school later. 

Unfortunately the later never came. Billy and I had no period in common save math but he mostly always skipped it and I was not surprised when I saw that his seat was empty today as well.

Billy was known for being a nuisance. But rumour had it that he had mellowed down a little. He would still come to school some days with bruises on his cheeks but surprisingly his knuckles were free of any wounds. Sometimes he would even nod at Steve in hallways like a civil person and had stopped bothering him completely. He had actually started to work hard and managed to get Bs in all of the subjects (even in maths he consistently scored B-) better than an F and D anyway. Much to everyone’s surprise he even stopped “chasing anything and everything that had boobs and legs.”(Nancy’s words). Instead of constant partying and hooking up Billy had started working at an auto-body shop in Hawkins. Everyone was shocked to see this side of Billy.

Did I find Billy attractive? Yes. Was the fact that he was probably turning into a better version of himself making him more attractive? Yes. But when it came to Will I was very protective and I eyed everyone with suspicion when it came to his safety maybe that’s why I still had my doubts about Billy. So I decided to finally confront him after the A/V club meeting where I was sure he’d come to pick up Max .

As the end of the day neared I grew restless. I was never good with confrontation let alone confront Billy Hargrove. But with my head held high and an unshaken resolve I walked to the middle school building as soon as the bell signalling the end of the last period went off. Skimming through the parking lot I realized there was no sign of Billy so I quickly marched to the A/V room. I thanked God silently when I saw him outside the A/V room but I suddenly halted around the corner when I saw what he was doing. He had cornered two boys against the locker and was pointing his finger threateningly at them. The two boys who looked younger- but were slightly taller and bigger for their age- looked down at their feet as if they were being scolded by their mother for stealing cookies out of the jar. I furrowed my eyebrows and tried to identify who the boys were but it never occurred to me. Instead of standing in the shadows, I walked to Billy and pulled at the collar of his jacket forcing him to turn around. As soon as Billy turned around the two boys scurried away.

Billy simply rolled his eyes and looked at me. The anger in his eyes and frown lines were suddenly replaced by an emotion very foreign for him. He almost looked sincere and alert.

“Hi (Y/n).” He smiled. It was really weird to see Billy Hargrove do anything other than smirk.

“Keep your ‘hi’ to yourself. What do you think you were doing threatening those boys like that?” I jabbed my finger in his exposed chest.

He only raised his hands and looked at me with an amused expression. “Look (Y/n) I-

“No I am not done yet. What were you doing with Will today? Threatening him too, huh? I swear to god if you so much as look at Will I will pu-

“(Y/n)” I suddenly stopped my verbal assault when Will came out of the A/V room followed by all the kids. “What are you doing?” He asked.

“Nothing. She is here to pick you up.” Billy interrupted. Looking at me one last he began walking out, Max followed shortly. As all the other kids began leaving the building I stood their dumbfounded till Will reminded me that we needed to get going.

When we reached home the house was empty. Instead of retreating to my room I decided to make sandwiches for Will and I. As the both of us settled before the tv and began eating when Will spoke up, “Why were you fighting with Billy? I overheard your conversation.”

I almost choked on my sandwich when I heard the question.

“I wasn’t fighting we were just talking.” I shrugged.

“(Y/n) if I tell you something will you promise you won’t freak out?” He asked putting his plate down. I nodded slowly mimicking his actions.

“When I went back to school after the incident, the teasing and bullying somehow got worse. People started bullying El and Max as well because they hung out with us. One day when Max was teaching me how to skate Troy and James came over and began teasing me and calling me names. Troy came over to me and pushed me to the ground. He raised his hand to punch me but the hit never came. When I opened my eyes Billy was standing behind him and was holding back Troy’s hand. After that day, after dropping Max off sometimes Billy would wait back and ask me if the boys were bothering me. I guess that’s who you saw him talking to today after school.” Suddenly it made sense. Joyce always complained about how much she hated the two menacing kids and wanted to give them hell for troubling Will.

Before I could recover from the previous shock Will decided to surprise me even further.

“Also Billy keeps asking about you. Things like what you like and if you’re dating. Max told me she told him you like intelligent guys who care about their future. She also told him you really like really love Vegemite.” Will muttered the last part while stifling in his laughter. Through the shock even I somehow managed to laugh. All the cleaning up his act and constantly talking about “how swell Vegemite is” while looking at me whenever Australia was mentioned during Geography suddenly made sense to me. And suddenly I could feel my heart swell with happiness. Was he really doing this for me?

That night while dropping Will off at the Wheeler’s I decided put in some extra effort. I wore my favourite red sweater and tucked it in my white skirt. I even borrowed Joyce’s lipstick and tied my hair in a ponytail. I knew Billy would come to drop off Max and I wanted to ask him about everything Will told me, might as well look a little presentable while doing it. 

Even Will noticed my excitement when I saw the blue Camaro right behind us as we pulled into the Wheeler’s driveway. Giving me a smile he ran inside followed by Max. As I saw the kids running in the nerves started to take over. What if this is a joke? Surely Will wouldn’t lie but what if Billy was fooling him? 

I had no time to think any further as I suddenly heard a knock on my window. Startled I looked out only to see Billy asking me to come out.

I got out and looked at Billy who was leaning against the hood of his car. I slowly trudged towards him and sat on the hood of his car next to him.

“I am sorry for today. Will told me everything.” I said trying to cut through the silence.

“Yeah, I was bullied a lot in school and as much of an asshole as I’ve been I realized that no kid should go through it. Especially Will.” His words warmed my heart. I admit I always had a tiny crush on Billy (in spite of all the things he has done) and the fact that he was actually being kind was making that crush grow a little bigger. 

After a long pause I heaved in a breath and said, “Billy he told me everything.” I repeated my words. Billy suddenly looked at me. The same sincerity as earlier present in his eyes only this time he looked a little nervous, almost vulnerable.

“Is it true?” I asked.

“Yes, (Y/n) Newby. I like you. I’ve liked you for a long time. But after what happened that night with Steve and Lucas I thought you wouldn’t want to go out with a fuck up like me. So I apologized to Steve and all the kids. It was a little hard but not as bad as studying. I even tried Vegemite. It was a little difficult to find it but I tried it anyway.” He rambled as he jumped off the hood.

“Billy I don’t like Vegemite.” I stifled my laughter at the confused boy.

“But Max said…wait… that little

“Hey. It’s okay.” I reached out to grab his hand. I ran my fingers over the multiple scars on his knuckles that had almost healed. He intertwined our fingers and walked closer to stand between my legs.

“But I like all that you’ve done. I am proud of you.” I tucked a strand of hair behind my hair and looked down. The adoration in Billy’s eyes suddenly made feel shy.

“Hey, hey look at me please. Is this okay?” He slowly placed two fingers under my chin. Billy was known to be rough and violent but who I saw before was completely opposite. I nodded.

“If this is okay then would you like to go out with me sometime? Its fine if you don’t wanna.” Billy asked softly.

At a loss of words due to the proximity between our bodies I only nodded. Billy grinned wide and took a hold of my hand.

“As long as we don’t have to eat Vegemite.” I laughed. Billy playfully glared at me before picking me up to embrace me. 

[ladymoonveil]

  Saying that Billy Hargrove is a polarizing character is putting it mildly in this fandom.  I’ve always hated that the Duffers wanted him to exist purely for the reason of having a “human villain”.  Why does Billy need to fill that role when you already have an organization full of evil dudes experimenting on kids?  If they wanted someone more specific, there’s always Neil Hargrove.  He’s a piece of shit who beats his son on the regular, and actively destroyed Billy’s relationship with Max by turning her into his walking, talking punishment.  He’s an abuser who turned the abused into another abuser, and if that’s not the peak of human villainy I don’t know what is.

   It also really bothers me when people hate Billy because he “doesn’t deserve redemption” and “should die for what he did”.  Apparently, shipping Harringrove means people want Steve to be in a violent relationship with a racist, which cannot be further from the truth.  Literally 99% of Harringrove fics have Billy getting the help he needs, admitting his past mistakes, and becoming a better person in the progress.  

  Steve has been one of my favourites since season 1, back when most people still disliked him.  I wouldn’t put him in a relationship with a one-dimensional asshole and make him suffer just for the sake of shipping.  (Though this is the accusations that some people like to make.)

  The reason I wanted to write this post about Billy Hargrove is because he reminded me of a boy I used to know when I was in the second grade.  We were only classmates for about 2 months, since I moved to Canada right after, but his name is the only one that I remember from back then.  (The following story is deeply personal, and please note this trigger warning for child abuse.)

  This boy was what everyone would call a “problem student”; someone who couldn’t sit still in class and had terrible grades.  He was always in trouble with the teacher for being too loud and noisy.  When you live in an East Asian country like Taiwan where grades are super important, this is a big red flag and people generally wouldn’t want to be friends with this person.  When I think about it now, I’m pretty sure he had ADHD.  But this was back in 1999, and ADHD wasn’t exactly a widely understood mental disorder.

  Despite this boy being a “problem child”, he wasn’t a bully.  (My mom told me a story of a real bully from when she was young.  He was also terrible at school, but he was a star player on the baseball team.  He would walk up an aisle of the classroom and slap his classmates’ heads as he walked by.  My mom got smacked almost every day, but he got away with it because he was athletic.  Unfortunately for the boy in my class, he wasn’t outstanding in sports either.)  

  I remember distinctly that he was nice and excited whenever I talked with him.  He certainly didn’t go around hitting people, or else I wouldn’t have given him the time of day.  We didn’t hang out together at recess, but he would lend me his Tamagotchi for an entire week before asking for it back.  My mom told me that whenever she brought me to school, he would stop to speak with her, and he was always very polite.  I didn’t think much of our interactions at the time, as he was just another classmate to me.

  One day, he showed up at school with literally half his face covered in black and blue.  You know the type of bruises people get if they’re slapped or punched?  This wasn’t like that.  This was like someone took black paint and slopped it on one side of his face.  It was that opaque.   

  My mom and I were shocked when we saw him.  She went to ask him what happened, and he told her that his father hit him with a wet towel because he stole some money.  She asked him how much he stole, and it turns out he stole five dollars because he wanted to buy erasers.  My mom told him that he shouldn’t steal; that he should ask his dad next time and tell him he wants to buy school supplies.  The boy said he did ask, but his dad wouldn’t lend him the money which is why he stole it instead.

 I remember very clearly that he didn’t cry, or act like he was in any pain.  In fact, he was so nonchalant about it that one of the thoughts that went through my 7-year-old brain was, “Oh, maybe it’s not as bad as it looks?”  

  I’m old enough now to understand his dad probably beat him so much that he wasn’t even phased by it anymore.  You don’t get that kind of bruising from being hit once with a wet towel. (Hell, you don’t get that type of bruising from being hit five times with a wet towel. It’s amazing that he didn’t go deaf from the abuse.) It really bothers me that I wasn’t more bothered about it back then, but the image of his bruised face has stayed with me for eighteen years.

 My mom was so angry when she heard what happened to him.  She went to tell the teacher, who was also a counselling advisor for the school.  My mom’s first thought was that she is more qualified to speak with students, and maybe she will be able to do something about it.  But when my mom told her what happened, my teacher said, “His grandparents told me he’s always causing trouble at home, and that he never learns no matter how many times they teach him.”  

  What she really meant was that his family all thought it was apt punishment and that he deserved it for his behaviour.  She wasn’t going to do anything about the abuse.  (Now, I don’t know if my teacher had already tried to help him and wasn’t able to, but my mom told me she came out of that conversation feeling very disappointed and upset at the outcome.  She never forgot his name either.)  

  Days passed and his bruises faded.  One day, the boy left in the middle of the class, and someone asked where he went.  The teacher said his mom came to visit him, so she let him take the day off to spend with her.  I didn’t realize his parents were divorced until this moment.  At the end of the school day, I was standing outside the classroom.  I saw him with a woman I had never seen before, and he was holding onto her and sobbing. He didn’t want his mom to go.  

  I remember thinking to myself, “Why doesn’t he just stay with his mom?  He really seems to like her more.”  (My mom has told me since that the system in Taiwan favours the father when it comes to child custody, similar to how the system in Canada favours the mother.  It could also be a case that she wasn’t able to support him financially, but I don’t know for sure.  All I know is that I’ve never seen him cry until that moment. He didn’t even shed a tear at school after his dad had beaten him black and blue.)  

 Fast forward a month or so and I was going to leave; I was immigrating to Canada with my family.  When I was saying goodbye to all my friends, he gave me a farewell present. It was this little book that had a bit of water damage.  I could tell it was something of his, and that he has spent time reading it.  I’ve gone through the book a few times, and from what I remember I enjoyed reading the short mystery stories and riddles in it.  When I told him I was leaving, he cried harder than most of the friends that I actually hung out with.  

  Over the last 18 years, I’ve thought about him from time to time.  But it wasn’t until two days ago that I really pondered why I haven’t forgotten his name, and why it seems like most of the things I remember from those two months of second grade in Taiwan involved that boy.  

  At the time, I was in the shower thinking about how I should write Billy’s character, since I wanted to tackle his childhood days in my story.  One thing led to another and suddenly, I was thinking about the book that my classmate had given me. To my absolute dismay, I couldn’t remember where I put it.  

  It was around 2:00 AM, and I had work the next day but I found myself going through my desk drawers and my bookshelves because I really needed to find this book.  I tried to remember where last saw it, and I had this creeping sense of dread that maybe I left it back in Taiwan, which means I may never see it again.  This made me think about why I didn’t bring it with me when I moved, and if I did, why can’t I remember where I put it?  

The answer? It just didn’t matter that much to me.  

  For the first time in my life, I sat down and really processed my experience with this boy that I barely knew.  It broke my fucking heart, and I’m still highly emotional about it even as I type this out.  I realized that this boy probably didn’t have things. His dad beat him for stealing five dollars to buy erasers and yet he lent me his toy for a week.  He couldn’t go and buy the most basic of school supplies but he gave me his book.  And I don’t even remember where I left it.  

  Unlike some people in my class, I was friendly to him.  But even though we talked, I don’t remember thinking of him as a friend.  I was the vice class president and he was someone who was always getting in trouble, and that put an invisible barrier between us.  (You don’t hang out with the problem child, the stigma was always there. Even though I knew in my heart that he wasn’t a bad kid.)   Thinking about the way he cried when I said goodbye, I realized that to him, I was his friend.  

 I’ve honestly been bawling my eyes out over the past few days at this revelation.  I wish I had talked to him more.  I wish that I was genuinely his friend.  I wish that I hung out with him at school because he was abused at home and I can’t recall if he had any friends of his own.  

  I wish I knew what I know now so I could try to help him.  

 It hits me the hardest when I think about where he might be now.  Did he manage to get away from his dad and his grandparents, who stood by and enabled the abuse?  Did he grow up to be a delinquent or a gangster and follow in his dad’s violent footsteps?  Did he get to stay with his mom when he was older?  Is he still the kind boy who shared what little he had with a girl that only spoke to him sometimes?  

  I tried to look him up on Facebook, but I can’t recall his face enough to recognize him, even if I did find the right person.  (There are multiple people with the same name, and none of their profiles listed the elementary school I went to.  I’m not really surprised, e-mails barely existed back then, let alone Facebook.)  I’m not sure what I would say to him, or if he even remembers me.  How should I react, if he had in fact turned into a horrible person?  But regardless, I want to thank him for the book, and for thinking of me as his friend.

  Sometimes my thoughts would go very dark and I’d wonder if maybe he had died from one of his dad’s beatings.  I try not to think about that, I want him to be alive and happy.  I hope he’s living a normal life now, surrounded by people who care about him.

  I guess I realized that this boy I knew could have easily grown up to be a Billy Hargrove, and it’s a fucking travesty because he was stuck in a situation where nobody helped him.  I think back to the scene where Billy’s dad slapped him around, while his stepmom stood by and watched.  Let’s just say I view his character in a different light after my own emotional journey. We don’t know what he’s been through growing up; who he was before his dad twisted him into the volatile teen that he is today.  This is why I will never agree with people who don’t think he deserves a chance at redemption.

 I told my best friend about this yesterday, and she cried with me.  I thought that maybe her tears were for his plight, but then she told me something that floored me.  She said that I shouldn’t beat myself up over this because I was seven years old, and seven-year-olds don’t think about things the way a twenty-six-year-old would. She told me that she believed I was a kind friend to him even if I felt like I wasn’t genuine, because that’s who I was for her when we were young.  

 I didn’t understand at first, and then she told me that she had really bad anger issues before we became friends.  She bounced from classmate to classmate, and she felt terrible because she wasn’t really close to anyone.  It made her isolated and angry, to the point that she punched a hole in her wall.  She said that after she met me in the sixth grade, she told herself that she has to get her anger under control, because she felt like she’ll scare me away, and she wanted me to be her friend.  I told her I never felt that from her, and she cried harder because that meant she succeeded.  Its profound how much you can mean to someone without even realizing it, and this is something that I don’t think I would have learned if not for the character of Billy Hargrove.  

  When I ship Harringrove, I’m not doing it to “fetishize gay men” or to “put Steve in an unhealthy relationship for the sake of having two attractive white guys getting it on”, as some people like to assume.  I see in Steve someone who is dealing with his own issues back at home, and is genuinely a nice guy who cares and likes to help people.  I see him as someone who can reach out to Billy and support him when he has nobody else on his side.  The Steve in my mind would be the person to give Billy the motivation to change for the better.  

  It won’t be easy for Steve, but helping Billy isn’t a burden that I place on this character.  It’s not some trial that I put him through for the drama of this ship.  I now know firsthand the regret you feel when you leave someone you could have helped behind, and the absolute relief when you do end up making a difference for a person you’ve grown to care about.  I love Steve, and he’s not going to feel this regret because he’ll do better than I did in my stories.  And it’s not just a one-way street, because after Billy gets the help he needs, he’s going to turn right back around and support Steve through his traumas as well.  Billy’s strong in a different way, and they could be so good for each other.

  This is the potential that Harringrove shippers see in their relationship. Before you go around judging or sending hateful messages, actually stop to take a look at why people like these two characters together.  You may be surprised by what you find.