Foursome? | Billy Hargrove x Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington x Reader

One

AN: Thank you for deciding to read my book, ily already! If you spot any mistakes, pleaaase let me know.

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You're sitting in biology, the last lesson of the day. Heavy rain is hitting the classroom windows, it's otherwise quiet. You've been seated next to one Billy Hargrove, who happened to forget his book at home, naturally you offered to share yours for reading-time. Your obvious crush on him has been a running joke in your friend group. Who doesn't have a crush on Billy, he is gorgeous!

You stare blankly at the mushroom-tree-symbiosis image on the page you were supposed to be reading. Steve was never a symbiosis type-of-guy, he just kept taking and stopped giving, that is probably why you ended things with him. Keyword probably, you weren't even sure of the reason yourself. You shake the thought, drowning yourself in the smell of Billy's dark Ralph Lauren cologne, mixed with the scent of cigarettes.

"Are you finished?" He asks.

"What?" You blush.

"Are you finished reading the page?" He clarifies in a whisper.

"Oh..yeah." A lie. God knows you barely even glanced at the text. Why are you blushing? Ugh, the grip he has on you. You watch as his hand, decorated with golden jewelry, reaches over to turn the page. You get a stronger whiff of cigarette smoke, a surprisingly enjoyable scent.

The final bell rings, sending everyone flying out of the classroom. Billy stands up, closes the book and hands it over to you.

"Thanks for sharing the book." He flashes you that famous smile as you pack the book away into your bag.

"No problem." You smile back. Your hands feel almost sweaty, you watch him leave. Grabbing your bag, you turn to follow everyone else out. The hallways are already empty.

You curse out loud as you step out the front doors, only to stop in your tracks under the shelter. You are one of the unlucky ones who walk to school, and never have you seen such heavy rain in Hawkins. You watch as the parking lot empties, cars filled with people trying to escape the rain. You debate on whether you should just go for it or wait for the rain to calm, surely it can't get any worse. Just after this thought, lighting flashes, followed by ear-shattering thunder.

"It's right above." Someone states. You turn around to face.. Eddie Munson?

"Clearly." You awkwardly chuckle. You've never talked to Eddie before, in fact you feel quite intimidated by his extroverted persona.

"Are you waiting for a ride?" He steps closer, quizzing you.

"No, I walk." You sigh. He nods, crossing his arms.

"Surely not in this weather?" He soon continues. You shake your head no, looking up at the dark clouds.

"I could give you a ride?" He suggests, motioning towards a rusty van, parked on the other side of the parking lot. You think for a moment, what are the chances of Eddie Munson being a murderer, preying on victims desparate for a ride? Highly likely.

"That would be nice." You smile, attempting to look as grateful as possible. He starts to.. undress? He removes his jacket, swinging it over his head to save his hair from the rain. He turns to you, lifting one of his arms to create a cover.

"Madam.." He invites you under the jacket-umbrella. You hesitate but decide to take up on this nice offer. You step under the cover, your arm touching his warm side as he holds up the jacket. "Thanks." You blush as you start making your way over to the van. The warmth of his body in contrast to the cool rainy air makes you feel things. You should not be this close to a stranger.

He skillfully opens the van door for you, helping you climb in. You watch as he skips over to the driver's side, throwing the wet jacket into the back of the van. There's a musty, herbal smell lingering in the vehicle.

You lay on your bed, it has been raining all evening, now slowed down to quiet taps on your window. The record player is quietly looping Tchaikovsky, Beethoven, Vivaldi and again Tchaikovsky. You had been sketching until boredom slapped you in the face. The telephone rings downstairs, you groan as it breaks your quiet moment of relaxation. You listen to your mom as she answers it. "It's for you y/n!"

"I got it." You roll to your side, grabbing the phone on your nightstand and placing it up to your ear.

"Y/n.." You announce yourself to the person on the line.

"Hey babe." A groggy voice greets you.

"Steve, we're over. I told you to stop calling me.. that." You struggle to finish your sentence, something pulls on the strings of your heart as you do. The logical part of you knows that he treated you wrong.

"I just want to talk." You can hear his tone change to desperate. You let out a sigh, making sure that he hears it as well. His familiar laugh travels out of the speaker. You squeeze your eyes shut.

"Well, what do you want to talk about?"