𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐘-𝐎𝐍𝐄

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Gentle tapping had woken you up that night, the continual sound of stone hitting glass. A familiar sound these days - Billy often came by to convince you to get up to no good at an ungodly hour... Not that you minded. It was always a fun adventure and you could always nap at some point to catch up on the sleep you'd missed.

You could sleep when you were dead, but memories? They would stay with you forever. So you clamber out of bed in your oversized sleep shirt and underwear, heading to the window and seeing your favorite blonde on the ground beneath. 

Your smile had been broad at the sight of him though it drops vastly as you note the grim expression he wore, cigarette dangling from his lips as he simply nods his head in gesture for you to come to the door.

It was dark but you could swear you saw dark streaks across his face like thick welts of blood. It rose up the knot of worry in your gut, but you swallow it down as you quietly tiptoe downstairs so not to wake up your family. 

The clock on the wall was illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the kitchen window, alerting you to the time which was a disgustingly late 2:04am. 

You don't have time to grumble as you gently open the door to find Billy already stood before it, huffing smoke through flared nostrils as he puts out his cigarette before slipping past you wordlessly. 

"Hey... What is it...? Are you okay?" You whisper, concern etched into your tone as your hand settles over his shoulder. He winces and pulls back, though settles a moment later and sends you an apologetic look that you couldn't quite see in the darkness of the room. "You're hurt?" 

He just nods in response, blue eyes sunken and pale in their anguish. Taking his hand in your own, you guide him down into your brothers basement room, knowing it was empty and free to use. It had a small bathroom and first aid kit so you could clean Billy up and have somewhere quiet to talk if he wanted to - which he rarely did when it came to his home life.

Once down there, you lock the door behind you and finally switch on the light to be able to assess the damage properly, though it only makes your heart plummet. 

A thick welt was settled over his brow, angry and eliciting a steady stream of blood, his lip was busted in the same manner, though it didn't seem to be bleeding anymore. He slowly takes off his jacket, hissing through his teeth as he does so and it doesn't take long to see why; an angry bruise was slowly forming from his shoulder blade to his bicep, a purple smattering of contusions that sleeve his shoulder. It might have been dislocated, but you weren't sure.

Billy seemed mostly unphased by it all, but you? You were getting choked up the more you looked at him, throat thick with worry. You knew his dad treated him like shit, but this? God, it was animalistic. Pure rage, laid upon someone he was supposed to love. 

"Don't worry about me, sweetheart." He breathes out gruffly, noticing your expression and trying his best to soothe you. He was here, beaten and bloody yet he was worried about you? 

"Let me get the kit." You clear your throat as you excuse yourself to the bathroom and fetch the first aid kit from the cabinet beneath the sink before filling a bowl with some hot water and returning to him and where he sat perched on the small couch at the back of the room, eyes looking over the space around him.

He hadn't been down here before, and was taking the opportunity to snoop as best he could without being caught. "God, you guys are like... Stupid rich, huh? Got a fancy hideout and everything."

A flush rises to your cheeks, awkwardness setting in over the discussion of wealth. You were lucky to have the life you did, you knew that and liked to think you were humble all the same. "What hurts?" You ask instead of answering him, crossing the distance and sitting on the edge of the small coffee table in front of him, his legs spread to accommodate you between them.

This Means War // Billy Hargrove x ReaderWhere stories live. Discover now