Chapter Text
Hawkins, Indiana—a small town that no one really knows, small enough that half of the townspeople know everyone. A sleepy place where the most excitement comes from teenagers partying until 2 a.m. Boring, I know. But it was home to William “Billy” Hargrove. He had lived there for as long as he could remember, with his father, Neil Hargrove, who was rarely around, his stepmother Susan, and his stepsister Max Mayfield.
Billy’s life in Hawkins was okay. He wasn’t rich, but he was well off enough. He lived at 4819 Cherry Lane. One of the best basketball players at Hawkins High and the undisputed Keg King. Popular. He had “friends” like Tommy Hagan and Carol Perkins. He was dating Nancy “Can’t Say I Love You” Wheeler.
At first, Billy was with Nancy because, well—she was one of the few girls who didn’t throw herself at him like he was the most attractive guy at school. They dated for a while. Until Billy told her he loved her, and she couldn’t say it back. Almost two years together, and she still couldn’t say it. It broke Billy. And it didn’t help that she was spending more time with Jonathan Byers than with him.
To make things worse, senior year brought something unexpected. A new guy. Steven Harrington. He arrived in a polished, new-model Beamer, wearing loafers and a cashmere shirt—the guy’s entire wardrobe screamed, *I’m made of money.* Hawkins High never saw it coming.
Steve shook the school to its core, becoming the new *it* guy overnight. Girls gravitated toward him, Tommy started following him around like a lost puppy. This Steve guy? Grade-A asshole. Had a superiority complex. Billy saw it the moment Steve pulled up to the Hawkins High parking lot. The guy stepped out of his car and made a face—like he had just stepped in something disgusting. And maybe, for a guy like him, he had.
With Steve in town, Billy was knocked from the top. Keg King status? Gone. Best basketball player? Gone. And worst of all? *Popularity.* Steve had taken it all.
Senior year sucked. Nancy broke up with him. He wasn’t *relevant* anymore—at least not in Hawkins High.
But then, one day, things started looking up.
Max brought her friends home. It was just Billy, Max, and her friends—Mike Wheeler, Will Byers, Lucas Sinclair, Dustin Henderson, and Jane Hopper. Sure, the usual hangout spot was the Wheeler house, but that day, Susan had told Max she could see her friends *only* if they came over to their house. She was leaving Max under Billy’s watch while she ran some errands.
Billy had sympathized with them in a way he never thought he would—especially Dustin Henderson. Sure, he found them annoying at times, especially Mike, who reminded him of Nancy more often than he liked. But yeah, Billy changed that day. Something shifted. The kids liked him *way* too much, turning him into their unofficial babysitter—much to Max’s annoyance. Still, he was fun to have around. Even Mike agreed.
Billy was also oddly protective over the other girl in the group—Jane, Max’s best friend. He even let her braid his hair, which, let’s be honest, Max took full advantage of.
Everything was fine—until someone new was added to the group.
Jaime Harrington. Steve 's sister.
At first, it wasn’t a big deal. Billy was just there to keep an eye on them, maybe get paid every once in a while. Not that he minded doing it for free.
Then Steve decided to be more of an *asshole* than usual.
Steve wasn’t the kind of guy you’d see in other people’s cars or houses. He threw parties at his lavish home, always telling his sister to beat it for the night. He knew people used him—for his money, his popularity. Did Steve care? No. He *enjoyed* it. Hell, he liked watching them squirm when they asked him for cash.
But Steve couldn’t party all the time. Every once in a while, his parents called the landline to check on him and Jaime. On those days, he had to make sure his sister was home—because if she wasn’t, he’d get a long-winded lecture about responsibility. Reckless behavior. The reason he got kicked out of that *prestigious* school in the city.
So yeah. The day his parents called? Steve had to track down Jaime. He asked around Hawkins, even stopped by the Wheelers’ house, where Nancy told him where Jaime *might* be.
That led him to the Hargrove house. 4819 Cherry Lane.
Billy Hargrove had just stepped outside for a smoke. He picked up the habit because of stress. After that, he just kept going.
Billy took a drag from his cigarette as the party played on inside. He exhaled slowly, watching as a familiar polished Beamer came to a stop in front of the house.
Steve stepped out, wearing that same disgusted look he always had whenever he arrived somewhere. Like he didn’t want to be there—but had no choice. Begrudgingly, he walked toward the house.
Billy pushed himself off the wall he’d been leaning on, burning out his cigarette before meeting Steve halfway.
"Need something, Harrington?" Billy asked, sizing him up.
"I’m looking for my dumb sister, Hargrove," Steve said, eyeing Billy’s outfit before his expression soured even further. "Have you seen her? She’s short, annoying, dumb hair in a ponytail, whiny voice… and a nerd."
Billy crossed his arms. "Doesn’t ring a bell, Harrington."
Steve scoffed. "Why are you lying to me?" He pointed toward the ground, where a bike lay among others. "That’s her bike."
Billy followed Steve’s finger—and there it was.
Jaime’s bike.
‘Shit!’ Billy Thought as Steve was glaring at Billy now. Steve was about to walk past him when Billy stepped forward, planting a firm hand against Steve’s chest.
"Where are you going, Harrington?" Billy asked, voice low.
Steve recoiled instantly. "Don't touch me with your filthy hands, Hargrove," he snapped, aggressively shoving Billy’s hand away. "Let me get my damn sister."
Billy didn’t move. His stance remained solid. His glare sharpened. "You aren’t going anywhere."
Steve met his glare with one of his own. "And who’s stopping me?"
Billy pushed Steve “I said you aren't going anywhere Harrington!”
Steve let out an amused laugh, eyes locked on Billy. "I wanted to be civil, Hargrove, but you left me no choice."
Without hesitation, he threw a right hook, landing it square on Billy’s face.
"Steve!!" Jaime gasped from the front door of the Hargrove house as Billy stumbled back from the hit.
Steve barely spared her a glance. "Jaime. Car. Now." His glare lingered on his sister as Billy pressed a hand to the spot where Steve had struck him.
Jaime sighed, grabbing her bike and trailing after her brother without another word.
The other party members just stared, too stunned to speak. None of them dared to say a word to Steve—not when he looked this intimidating, not when he'd punched Billy without hesitation.
"Asshole," Billy muttered under his breath. Sure, he wasn’t one to back down from a fight—but he had learned not to throw punches in front of the kids. He didn’t want to be a bad influence. Or whatever.
Steve shoved Jaime’s bike into the trunk, practically throwing it in before slamming it shut. Without a word, he stalked to the driver’s seat. Jaime climbed into the passenger seat just as Steve turned the ignition—then tore down the road like a bat out of hell.
"I don’t want you near Hargrove. You hear me?" Steve muttered, his voice bitter, eyes fixed on the road.
"What’s your problem, shithead?" Jaime snapped, crossing her arms.
“You know today’s one of those days our messed-up parents call the landline to check on us," Steve said flatly, still refusing to look at her.
“But you didn’t have to punch Billy!" Jaime shot back, anger rising.
“He touched me," Steve scoffed, as if that justified everything. "You know how expensive this shirt is? And he put his filthy, broke-ass hands on it!"
Jaime rolled her eyes, turning toward the window. “Well, he’s way more fun than you."
That was apparently the wrong thing to say.
Without warning, Steve slammed on the brakes. Hard.
Jaime lurched forward as the car screeched to an abrupt stop, her heart hammering from the sudden jolt.
Steve turned to her, glare ice-cold. “Let me make myself crystal clear so your dumb little brain can process this—"
His voice was sharp, calculated. “I do not want you hanging around Hargrove. Or those broke-ass losers you call friends. Especially that Henderson kid, or whatever his name is—he looks stupid and weird." His tone grew darker. “And no hanging out with Hargrove’s stepsister either."
Jaime’s jaw clenched. “So now I can’t have friends?"
“Sure you can. As long as they’re rich or treat you like royalty because you are." Steve’s voice was casual—like the conversation didn’t bother him in the slightest.
Meanwhile, back at the Hargrove house, Billy sat with a bag of frozen peas pressed against his face, numbing the spot where Steve had landed his punch. He watched as the remaining kids carried on, but in all honesty, only the guys were really playing.
Max and Jane, though? They looked uneasy—troubled, even—because their friend had left mid-hangout.
Dustin, abandoning his chair where he and the others had been playing D&D, walked over to Billy.
“That was a nasty punch Steve gave you," he said, eyeing the bruising forming on Billy’s cheek.
Billy gave a lazy smile. "I let him punch me, Henderson." His tone was matter-of-fact.
"Just like you let my brother beat the crap out of you that one time?" Will chimed in.
Mike laughed. "Nancy told me about that! It was hilarious how Jon beat you up, Billy."
“Honestly, you lost my respect in that fight," Max shrugged. "I definitely thought you’d win."
Billy just shrugged back. "Well, I let him. Wasn’t giving my all in that fight."
Lucas raised a brow. “Right… we totally believe you, Billy."
Jane frowned, arms crossed. “Honestly, I’m worried about Jaime."
"Steve is barbaric for a rich guy," Dustin muttered.
Billy exhaled sharply. “Yeah, well, Harrington has anger issues." His voice was dry. “He once beat the hell out of Tommy just for leaning on his car."
This was his curse now—babysitting a bunch of annoying brats. The only ones who weren’t completely insufferable were Jane and Jaime, and that was saying something—even if Jaime was Harrington’s sister.
Billy got up and walked toward his room, but not before grabbing an ice pack and pressing it against the fresh bruise left courtesy of Harrington.
God, how he loathed him.