Chapter Text
“Fucking piece of shit, mother fucking shitty death trap,” Robin vehemently hisses at her car as she lays it on the horn once, throws the door open, and kicks the front tire. “Goddamn it, should’ve taken the fucking bus! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”
The school parking lot is empty because it’s way past the time any teenager would hang around the school, any teenager aside from Robin, probably, because she’s the only freak who had to stay in late practicing the clarinet for the next week’s prep rally. Then again, she would like the record to show that if her parents had deigned to buy her a damn clarinet, she wouldn’t have to stay late and practice with dirty, cheap school one.
So what she’s really trying to say is that if she gets mugged or you know, murdered, it’s all her dad’s fault.
And to make matter’s worst, which is just her luck, really, no surprises there, a car turns the corner, engine roaring, and slows down as it nears the school. Not any car either, no. Billy Hargrove’s blue Camaro is a one of a kind car here in Hawkins, and right now, it’s screeching to a halt.
Great. That’s just– great. The town’s douchebag, just what she needed.
He rolls down the window, lays on his charm, giving her the kind of grin that makes the girls swoon in the halls. Too bad for him, really, this kinda shit isn’t gonna work on Robin. “Hey there, beautiful. You wouldn’t happen to have seen my sister, would you?”
Robin frowns, gives him an unimpressed look. Not really what she had been expecting, but better than being harassed. “Do I look like I know who your sister is?”
Hargrove huffs, dropping the act and closing his eyes like he’s trying really hard not to scream. “Tiny red-head, always fucking yelling shit. Probably had a gaggle of nerds with her. You seen her?”
Gaggle of children? Why would they be in the high– oh, actually, Robin kind of remembers a lot of running after hours? She thought the drama kids had been rehearsing some weird shit again, but now–
“I might,” she answers, leaning on her door. There’s an idea, and it’s crazy, and it’s probably going to end up with Hargrove tearing out of there or fucking kidnapping her or some shit, but Robin’s getting a little desperate here. The next bus is due in like, a whole hour, it’s gonna be dark by then. “Might have heard where they were going, too.”
Now, Hargrove doesn’t perk up, but there’s a weird wave of relief that she can clearly see wash over him before it’s replaced by his smarmy doucheness again. “Well?”
Robin grins. “Well, my car here broke down.”
“Not my fucking problem, do I look like a mechanic to you?”
“As I was saying,” she glares, “my car broke down, so say, if someone were to give me a ride home, it might jog my memory a little.”
“You’ve got be shitting me,” he stares at her, scoffs, and checks his watch. A weird nervousness creeps in on his shoulders, on the way he sits up a little straighter and drums his fingers on the wheel. Then, gritting his teeth, “fine, Jesus, you’re such a bitch. I’ll give you a ride, but we’re picking her up first.”
Her grin widens and Robin hurriedly picks up her backpack and locks her car before throwing herself on Billy Hargrove’s passenger seat. Somewhere in their pink little rooms, every straight girl in their school is wailing in jealousy. It’s funny in a very ironic kinda way.
He gives her an impatient look. “So?”
“Okay, do you know how to get to the quarry?”
*
“If you’re fucking with me,” Hargrove snarls for about the tenth time in like, fifteen minutes, as he drives like a maniac and Def Leppard screams from the speakers. As it is, Robin only rolls her eyes.
“Dude, that’s way too much effort,” she says, slouching further on her seat, and watches the trees grow in number at the side of the road. They’re almost there now. “And it wouldn’t be very smart of me anyway, considering the quarry would be a prime spot for a murder.”
He grunts. Then, because apparently, life in Hawkins is fucking weird, the headlights hit the crook on the road where most people park before trekking into the woods and, get this, they illuminate a preppy little Beemer.
“Harrington,” Hargrove grumbles, hitting the wheel as he throws his car beside the Beemer, parking haphazardly, and nearly sending Robin squashed against the door. He glares fiercely at her, lighting up a cigarette, “stay the fuck here.”
Yeah, no, that’s not gonna happen. One, Robin’s not gonna stay alone in a car in the dark just waiting for someone to murder her or something, and two, she’s invested in this now, alright. So she’s curious, sue her.
Robin spills out the car just in time to see Hargrove squinting at the dark trail where a bunch of tiny lights is approaching. “Well,” she says, sidling up to him, “at least they remembered to bring flashlights.”
“What the fuck did I say about staying in the car?” Hargrove snaps at her, crossing his arms over his chest all macho. It makes her choke on a snort. Man, boys are so fucking dumb. “Do you have some kinda death wish, shitbird?”
“I have a name , thank you very much,” she glares right back, crossing her own arms in a challenge, “it’s Robin and you can use it if you don’t want to get decked.”
Hargrove grins, delighted for a second. “Is that so, shit bird?”
Robin rolls her eyes. “Really? That’s the best you can come up with?”
Before they could say anything else, the sounds of talking came closer, and Robin heard some variations of oh, shit as the kids appeared from out of the woods. Hargrove snapped his attention to them, a scowl on his face that looked like it could set them on fire. “What the fuck were you thinking, Maxine?”
“Fuck OFF, Billy,” a, well, tiny red-headed girl screams stomping ahead of the little group, which, now that they’re somewhat in the light, she can see includes Steve Harrington. “What are you even DOING here?”
“Picking you the fuck up because you missed curfew again like a dead fucking idiot,” he snarls back, but his eyes are now focused on Harrington, dark and sharp. “The better question is, what are you doing alone with the kids again, Harrington?”
Which, to be fair, Robin thinks is a fair question.
The kids, six little nerds, are now sort of around Harrington? Like, like, six tiny little bodyguards and it’s kinda funny, and Robin can see it’s kind of annoying Harrington a little too, but it’s not like he can say anything, what with the weird standoff he’s having with Hargrove.
“Stopping them from traipsing alone in the woods at night like shitheads, Hargrove,” he snaps back, and oh, shit, he’s got a– is that a bat? With nails? “Now, are you going to be a problem?”
Hargrove just stares at him and he stares back, and it’s getting too weird for Robin, okay, so fuck this, she decides. “Is that a bat with nails?”
Harrington seems to startle, blinking at her like he’s only now realizing she’s there. “I’m sorry, but who are you?”
“Oh, my GOD, Billy,” Hargrove’s little sister groans, “did you seriously bring one of your girlfriends here?”
“Excuse me?” Robin scoffs, giving her a very unimpressed look, “I have taste and standards, okay? I’m Robin and I’m just trying to get a ride home.”
“From him?” Harrington gapes, then seems to realize he was being kinda rude, “I mean, no offense– no, you know what, full offense. All the offense.”
“Nice one, pretty boy, I’m wounded,” Hargrove laughs. Although, Robin thinks there’s not a lot of humor there. “I can be a real gentleman, you know.”
And– okay, literally everyone, Robin included, has to snort at that.
“Hey, hey, okay, it’s just– I have to ask,” she raises her hand, wiggling her fingers, and then gesturing all that, “is this, like, a cult situation?”
Hargrove smirks, slow and predatory. “Yeah, King Steve, answer the lady.”
“No, it’s not– it’s not a cult, alright?” Harrington goes red in the face, gesturing a lot as he speaks, “the kids– they wanted to hit the quarry and I’m not– it’s not like I could stop them! “
“That’s freaking weird, dude,” she says, shrugging, the kids seem to be fine, so. It’s more pathetic for him than anything, she figures. “You’re their babysitter?”
“We don’t need babysitters!” One of the kids cries, all pouty and shit.
“Yeah, Steve’s the coolest, that’s why he’s our friend,” another one with curly hair adds.
“Can we just GO?” Hargrove’s sister says, stomping in the direction of the Camaro, “Billy, remember the fucking deal!”
Hargrove’s face goes blank and hard, and he grumbles, glaring murderously at Harrington as he steps on his cigarette. “Come on, shitbird. The fuck do you live?”
Robin shrugs, following back to the car when Harrington’s voice rings. “Hey, Robin, right? You can ride with me if you want?”
She studies him and his tiny little bodyguards, his preppy Beemer, and back at Hargrove and his sister, he’s shoving her things in the backseat and the passenger seat is open. Robin doubts she’d get shotgun with Harrington. “Nah, I’m fine, dude, no worries.”
*
“So you’re not his girlfriend?” Hargrove’s sister– it’s Max, I’ll punch you if you call me Maxine– asks, leaning between the seats, “or, I don’t know, friend?”
The way she says friend leads Robin to believe she means something between Girlfriend and Friend, and that it Robin is in some way attracted to her troll of a brother. Robin cackles. “No, kid, not really my type,” she winks, “like I said, standards.”
“I’m still fucking here, you know,” Hargrove grumbles, still driving like a fucking psycho.
“Okay, so why are you here?” Max continues her interrogation.
“My car broke down,” Robin shrugs, “I really needed a ride home.”
“So he offered you a ride?”
Now, Hargrove snorts. “No, Maxine, she fucking blackmailed me into giving her a ride.”
Max looks at her with wide, delighted eyes. “Oh, my god, seriously?”
“Yup.”
“That’s awesome,” Max crows, falling back into her seat as her brother cuts a corner harshly, parking on Robin’s driveway halfway up the curb. “You’re so cool.”
“Get the fuck out, shitbird,” Hargrove snaps, scowling, and Robin laughs, internally flinching at how similar it sounded with his earlier laughter. Yeah, it’s really late and her parents are not gonna be happy.
“You’re welcome, asshole,” she says, throwing the door open, and grimaces at the lights in the living room, “oh, man, my dad’s gonna kill me.”
To be fair, she thinks he might be a bit relieved Robin is with a boy, like a normal girl her age, and her mom will probably lecture her forever but then wink like she thinks Robin is finally doing something normal too.
“Hey,” Hargrove grunts, and Robin turns, backpack in hand and ready to get out. He’s got a cigarette on his lips and his face is all blank again, unreadable, but she doesn’t miss the way his eyes flicker to the living room lights too. When he speaks, it’s quiet. “You gonna be okay?”
Something flickers on his face and Robin thinks she’s missing something huge here about him, tries to add his concern to his general douchebagness and finds that it’s an awkward fit.
Still, she smiles. “Yeah, I’ll be fine, dude. See you, losers.”
Weirdly, the Camaro doesn’t peel away until Robin is locking the door behind her.
*
It’s not like Robin expected to like, become buddy-buddy with him after or even any sort of recognition at all, she knows how High School works, and she knows how Billy Hargrove’s brand of peacocking douchebagness works, so she’s not surprised when he ignores her as usual.
She is a little surprised when Steve Harrington corners her outside English. “What’s this?”
He blinks at her, looks down where he had been holding her arm to steer them out of the way, and drops his hand hastily. “Sorry, I just wanted to ask– are you alright?”
“Hm, yes?” She raises her eyebrows, “why wouldn’t I be?”
“Well, you, uh. Last night, you drove off with Hargrove, so. Just checking.”
Robin snorts, remembering the interrogation Max had put her through. Harrington clearly hasn’t talked with his children yet. “Thanks for the concern, but I can handle myself. Besides, wasn’t him that was traipsing in the woods at night with a bunch of children.”
Harrington makes a face, throwing his hands up. “Look, you don’t know them, okay? It’s like, impossible to stop them from doing stupid shit, they were going to probably lock me in a classroom and steal my car if I hadn’t gone with them! That was, believe it or not, the best-case scenario!”
“What were you doing in the woods anyway? That place gives me the creeps at night.”
“That’s, uh. That’s classified,” he tries to sound confident and all snotty, but Robin can hear through the fake- loftiness, snorts. “Okay, they were looking for something– it’s about their Dungeon and Dragons shit, I don’t know. They never tell me shit.”
“Right,” she snickers again. Harrington looks like a stressed mother of six alright.
“And hey, I mean it,” he says, growing serious, “if he gives you shit, let me know okay? I know he’s all, you know, but he– last year, he almost beat my face in, okay? Totally lost it on the kids, too. He’s a real asshole. So.”
Robin sucks in her teeth, considering his words. Harrington is trying to say Hargrove is dangerous and she should stay away, and well, he’s making a good case of it, Robin has to give him that. She kind of remembers the state of his face last year, all black and blue, and she remembers Hargrove’s cracked wrist. Rumors of their fight had been legendary.
“Okay, thanks for the gossip,” she smiles all fake sweet, and slips out his space, “it’s not like we’re friends or anything, anyway.”
And that should have been that.
*
Except, Robin is, unfortunately, terribly cursed with the gift of being too smart for her own good.
It’s a tragedy, truly.
So, she’s super smart and she notices things. Like, for example, now that both Hargrove and Harrington are more than just names, now that she’s curious about what the fuck is going on there, she’s more aware of their presences in the halls.
So, she notices.
Robin sees the way Hargrove follow him with his eyes when he thinks Harrington’s not looking, and she sees how his face does a thing whenever Harrington’s walk in the room. She sees how casual he is with a different girl hanging off his arm every day but inevitably cuts a glance at Harrington as he walks by. She sees all that and thinks oh.
This is interesting.
This is– everyone keeps telling her to stay away from him, but if Hargrove is– if there’s a chance she’s not alone in this small, small town in the middle of nowhere–
Robin’s heart races, and for the first time, she watches Tammy watch Harrington and feels a little less alone.
*
She corners him at his locker when Tommy and Carol aren’t there being nuisances for once. She stops there, waits for him to slam his locker closed, and notice her.
“Shit, the fuck you doing here? Jesus, almost gave me a heart attack,” he snaps, glaring at her.
“Can we talk?” She goes straight to the point, not sure she’d have the courage to follow through if she beats around the bush. “Like, in private?”
Hargrove makes a face, dripping with pity and condescension. “Look, shitbird, sorry, but I’m just not interested–”
“Yeah,” Robin says, then looks pointedly at Harrington passing by, “I know you’re not interested.”
The shift is instantaneous. Blind panic flashes on his eyes and the next thing she knows he’s dragging her to the parking lot and roughly shoving her into the passenger seat of his car. “I don’t know what the fuck you think you know, but that’s not the kind of shit you can go around saying unless you want to fucking die, okay? I don’t beat up women, but I’m sure Carol would be real happy to tear into your face. Fucking ruin your life, hear me?”
“Jesus Christ, dude, chill,” she glares, rubbing at her wrist. What is it with these boys and grabbing people by the arm? “I didn’t say I was gonna, like, tell the whole school.”
“Right, blackmail’s more your thing,” he glares, snarling at her.
“Would you just– it’s not–” she flounders, losing her nerve. What if he decides to tell the whole school? By all means, that’s an asshole move and Billy Hagrove’s nothing if not an asshole. But Robin, she’s so, so tired of keeping this locked inside. Having someone, even an asshole, to talk about this with, someone like her, it’s–
“I know all about pining for straight people, okay?” She finally says, rushing the words all in one breath, and looks down at her hands, bracing for whatever comes next. No turning back now, no take backsies.
There’s a long minute of silence in the car and Robin thinks she might burst if he doesn’t say anything soon, and maybe this was a terrible idea, maybe she was wrong after all, or maybe she wasn’t but he still thinks she’s a freak, fuck, she needs to get out of here–
“Fucking sucks, doesn’t it?” Hargrove says, and when Robin finally risks a glance at him, he’s smoking a cigarette and holding the steering wheel like it’s gonna solve all of his problems. He’s got a fading black eye, too, she notices.
Robin nods, exhaling a shuddery breath, and huffs a laugh, feeling relieved as shit. “Like hell. Can I bum one?”
“Those will kill you, you know?” He throws her his pack, then his lighter.
“Not if Tammy’s stupid pretty face kills me first,” she grumbles, and shit, it feels good to say it out loud.
Hargrove laughs, startled.
*
When she arrives the next day to no one whispering about her liking girls, it cements on her mind that Billy Hargrove and her were friends now. This is the sort of thing only friends should know about so there’s no helping it. They were stuck with each other.
And Billy seems to think so too as he drops by her locker, grumbling about Harrington’s stupid jeans, and walks her to their Math class.
At lunch, he steals a quarter if her sandwich and lets her whisper about Tammy’s new haircut.
Sometimes, they sit at his car and smoke cigarettes in silence, just contemplating how fucked they are or something, and sometimes they rant about whatever shit there is to rant.
Lather, rinse, repeat.
And like, sure, people talk about it. This weird random friendship, but it’s not like Billy’s always hanging out with her. He still spends nearly all his time with Tommy and his stupid friends, and Robin has band practice and her band friends. They just talk, sometimes, because there’s no one else to talk about this with.
She bets people still think they’re fucking though.
Fine, kinda embarrassing, but a lesser evil.
*
“So,” she says one day when they're smoking in his car, “Steve Harrington.”
“What about him,” Billy grunts, fiddling with the radion. Some old Cindy Lauper song is playing and he looks two notes away from murdering someone.
“Heard you had some big fight last year,” she offers, studying the way his shoulders go tense and he grimaces. “What was that all about?”
“Was looking for my sister, found her in some creepy house in the middle of fucking nowhere with a bunch of boys and Harrington,” he shrugs like it’s not a big deal, even though Robin can clearly see it’s kind of a big fucking deal. “No one was saying shit, and man, I had told her hanging around Sinclair was gonna be a fucking problem but she never fucking listens.”
“And why is that?” She asks sharply.
“My dad,” he says simply, eyeing the way she got her hackles raised, before continuing with a sigh. “I kinda lost it that day. Some shit had gone down before–”
“You took it out on them?”
“Yeah, and Harrington punched me real good so I broke a plate over his head, didn’t stop until Max stuck some needle on my neck.”
Billy says all of this and watches Robin like he’s half expecting her to storm out of his car, or some shit like that, but. Well. It’s been what– three months since they’ve started hanging out? She knows– she knows when Billy says some shit went down he means the source of the bruises he’s always hiding, and yeah, that doesn’t excuse him at all, but it shines enough of a light for Robin to be willing to grant him a second chance.
If she’s being honest, he is being less of an asshole than she remembers last year.
“Dude, that’s messed up,” she tells him, blowing smoke out of the window, “have you apologized yet?”
“It’s not like it’s gonna make any difference,” Billy says, again like it’s not a big deal, but the way he punches his Mettalica tape in is very telling, “so why the fuck bother.”
Robin gives him a look . “Uh, because we just agreed that was messed up?” She shrugs, “if you’re gonna say sorry just to get something in return, you’re not really sorry, you know?”
“So that’s why the fuck I should bother?” He asks, eyebrows raised and a wry smile.
“Dunno, dude,” Robin stubs her cigarette, “you do you, I’m not gonna like, force you to do anything. Just thought I’d get your side of the story.”
“So if I don’t say shit to them,” Billy speaks slowly, “you’re not gonna get on my case about it?”
She shrugs again. “I think last year was a long time ago and I think you’re sorry about it. Are you gonna do that again?”
Billy pauses, looks out the windshield. “I don’t know,” then, “I’m trying not to.”
“That’s good enough for me,” Robin flicks his cigarette out the window, grins, “now, are we gonna get some fries or what?”
“You just wanna make googly eyes at the Thompson girl while she takes our order,” Billy snorts, but peels off the school parking lot while on the radio, James Hetfield sings about puppets and strings.
*
They don’t talk about Billy’s bruises but he knows that she knows in the same way they don’t talk about the mornings Robin can’t look anyone in the eyes, some very strong choices of words ringing in her head. Shitty parents are abounding and they just have two very different flavors of shitty.
*
A week after his graduation, they meet in a diner. Not Tammy’s diner, one less frequented by the people they went to school with and he starts with:
“Talked with all the shitheads.”
Robin raised her eyebrows. “Yeah? How did it go?”
“Apparently I’m on probation now,” he quirks a smile, playing with a packet of sugar, “the one with the curly hair, you know? Yelled a lot, fucking hell. He and Max are going to leave me deaf at this rate.”
“That’s cool, man,” she smiles, patting his hand in support, “what about Harrington?”
He– oh my god, he goes kinda red in the face, it’s amazing. “Talked with him, too. We’re– a truce or some shit. Whatever any of that means.”
“Hey, did you mean, your apology?”
Billy makes an irritated encompassing gesture of obviously.
“Then, fuck, dude, that’s it,” she waits for a beat before adding innocently, “of course, if you’re gonna, like, woo him or something–”
“Fuck off, shitbird,” he snaps, scowling, but that stopped sounding like a curse a long time ago, and Robin likes to think it’s at least half fond now. It’s the only reason why she tolerates it.
“Just saying, asshole,” and besides, that too, is kinda fond on her part.
Billy rolls his eyes, leaning back, more comfortable now that they’ve got that confession out of the way. “You say a lot of shit. How’s job hunting going?”
Robin perks up. “I’ve got a job,” she singsongs, “it’s at that new Starcourt thing, at the Ice Cream place, but hey, it’s money.”
“Damn, that was fast, we gotta celebrate,” he grins, flagging the waitress, “hey, can we get two cokes here?”
“A chocolate milkshake.”
“And a chocolate milkshake, please?” He amends and smiles all charming at the girl.
Robin rolls her eyes and laughs when he turns to her and makes a face. Outside, the wind is picking up and everything is colorful for the change in season; summer is just starting, but something is already changing in Hawkins, Indiana.
*
Working with Steve Harrington is funnier than Robin expected.
Like, she never spoke with the guy after that day he cornered in the hallway and yeah, she had been aware of the number of children that was always following around, but man, she did not expect him to suck so much at picking up girls outside the school.
The YOU SUCK tally is only growing and teasing him is a large part of makes working there survivable. If it were anyone else, she thinks she might have quit a while ago.
Because sure, she resents him a little for the whole Tammy thing, but she has to admit that the guy is funny and genuinely nice. The kind that walks her to her car if they’re closing late and expects nothing in return. It’s like now that school is over, Harrington became a real person.
Or maybe, that change happened earlier and she’s only noticing it now, but either way, Robin thinks as she snickers at his terrible pick-up lines, by the time summer ends, she just might have to consider him a friend.
*
“I think you should come by the pool sometime,” Billy says one day when they’re eating at the food court before Robin’s shift.
“Why’s that?” She speaks through a mouthful of burger.
“Besides the heatwave?”
“Yeah, besides that.”
Billy grins his shark grin. “I think you should meet someone.”
Robin chokes on her burger, doubling in a coughing fit. “Oh, hell no. You’re not playing matchmaker, asshole.”
“I’m just saying,” he throws a fry and it bounces off her forehead, falls on her plate, “you and Heather would get along real good.”
“That sounds like you’re playing matchmaker,” she glares, throwing his fry right back. “Why don’t you come by Scoops, then?”
“Fuck off,” he says without any real heat, “don’t fucking come, then. I’m just saying.”
“Yeah, yeah, I heard you,” Robin grumbles, checking her clock, “I gotta go. My car’s still at the shop, you’re gonna pick me up after my shift, right?”
Without waiting for his answer, she takes off, laughing, and hears his voice yelling after her, “not your fucking driver, shitbird!”
*
Billy’s not always on time, but he never takes this fucking long, especially when he knows she’s gonna be closing the shop, so Robin thinks she has a right to be mildly worried.
“You, uh, you sure, he’s coming?” Steve asks, sitting with her in the parking lot while the cars slowly file out. “Because I can, like, give you a ride, you know.”
“Nah, it’s fine. He’s probably messing with his hair. I swear, he’s worst than you,” she snorts, snickering at his offended face, and tries not to be so jittery.
“I don’t even spend–”
Steve’s cut off by the Camaro’s loud engine, and Robin watches delighted as he nods at Billy in acknowledgment, no weird tension between them. Maybe this whole probation thing Max and the kids have going is working after all.
“Hey, you’re late, asshole,” she glares at him half-heartedly, buckling up, then scrunches up her nose at the strong whiff of cologne that suffocates the car. “Jesus Christ, dude, roll down the window, are you trying to kill me?”
Billy only grunts and that’s when she notices how dressed up he is. Well, dressed up for his standards, anyway, and his fingers are drumming restlessly in the steering wheel, his whole body tense, coiled tight, ready to snap.
“Are you alright?” She frowns, eyeing his face for any signs of new bruises.
“Got a date after I drop you off,” he says, voice tight. Not a good sign. This isn’t first date jitters.
Robin raises her eyebrow. “With who?”
“Now that’s none of your fucking business, is it?” Billy snaps, and he’s never been this harsh with her, not even months ago when she had been stranded in the high school parking lot and he had been looking for his sister.
“Fine, don’t tell me, then, dickwad. Sorry for fucking caring,” she scowls, crossing her arms over her chest and turning away from him to stare out the window.
She hears him sigh, can bet he’s running a hand through his hair. “Sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to– it’s with Mrs.Wheeler, alright? We’re meeting at that motel outside town.”
What the fuck.
Okay, Robin’s heard plenty of stupid ideas over the course of this weird friendship of theirs, but this, this one, it takes the fucking cake. Jesus Christ. She doesn’t even know where to start.
“I– Billy, I don’t even– what the fuck, dude?”
Now, she sees him huff, having the audacity to look offended. “See? This is why I didn’t want to fucking tell you, now you’re gonna go up in your goddamn high horse–”
“High horse? Excuse me? You’re going to fuck a married woman when you’re not even attracted to women, and you wanna be mad at me?”
“Shut the fuck up,” he warns, and his fingers are white in the steering wheel, a dark cloud over his face, “you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
“No, you’re right, I don’t,” she snaps, pinching the bridge of her nose, “because I can’t think of one fucking reason why this is a good idea.”
Billy says nothing, staring resolutely ahead and turning up the volume on the radio. At this speed, they should’ve arrived at her place already, so she thinks the fact they haven’t might mean something.
“And even if– even disregarding all that, you really think Mrs.Wheeler’s gonna show? Really? She has like, three kids, she’s Nancy’s mom. Have you met Nancy? Do you think Nancy’s mom is going to have some torrid affair at a dingy motel down the road?”
“What do you want me to say?” He asks, real quiet, like he’s tired and all this screaming they’re both doing are deflating him like a balloon.
Robin sighs. “That you’re not gonna do something real stupid.”
“Can’t promise that,” Billy shoots back, immediately, pulling out in front of Robin’s house. It’s dark out already, and the moon is illuminating the car’s interior. It makes him look pale, sickly. Scared. Robin tentatively covers his hand on the gear shift. She can understand being scared.
“I know fucking Mrs.Wheeler would get people off your back,” she says quietly, gentle, “but Billy, this isn’t good for you. I know there’s a lot of shit going on, but remember what we talked about? A place after I graduate? Maybe sooner? Just– don’t make it harder on yourself, okay? This whole thing is stupid as shit. Don’t be stupid, asshole. See you tomorrow?”
Billy stares at his hands. “I’ll pick you up, freeloader.”
This time, it’s Robin that waits at the sidewalk until Billy’s blue Camaro turns a corner and disappears from sight.
*
Something bad happens that night, not that Robin would know as she sleeps fitfully through the night. Like all Hawkins residents, she dreams of fire and black smoke, something wailing in the distance.
*
“You’re late again,” she says as soon as she enters the Camaro, but her voice is cautious and she eyes him like anything about his appearance would tell her what happened last night.
Billy sighs, sunglasses firmly on top of his nose. “I chickened out if that’s what you’re fucking fishing for.”
Robin beams. “I knew you weren’t just a dumb blonde!”
“Shut the fuck up, Christ,” he grumbles, and oh.
“Are you hangover right now?” She says. Loudly. Grinning at his flinch.
“Yeah, I went home and got shitfaced,” he snaps halfheartedly, “why, you gonna lecture me on that too?”
Robin shrugs, sniffs all haughty. “Why, I just might,” laughs, “it’s healthier than the other option, I think. Still, getting drunk alone is no fun.”
“Your face is no fun,” he flicks his cigarette at her, dropping ashes on her jeans. “Now get the fuck out of my car.”
Starcourt mall is packed as Robin walks in laughing in her relief and the sound of tires screeching can be heard from the parking lot.
In a few hours, Dustin is going to barge in with news of a Russian conspiracy. In a few hours, she’s going to overhear them and demand in on it, but instead of dealing with this alone, she’s gonna make a phone call to Hawkins’ Public Pool.
“Hi, I was wondering if I could speak with Billy Hargrove? He’s a lifeguard. What? No, I’m not– I swear! It’s uh, family matters. Yeah, I’m his sister. Sure, I can hold.”