This Means War // Billy Hargrove x Reader

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐘-𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄

THE DAY BEFORE THE FUNERAL. 

The men with guns had been kinder than you'd expected that day. They coaxed you away and assured you that you could sit with the body as it was transported to a secret government facility if you wanted to. 

There was a cover-up in place about how it came to be. A fire that took the lives of many; you were briefed on it many times that night until you were able to recite the story perfectly.

Sworn to secrecy once more, Doctor Owens gave you the all-clear to go home. It was late and your parents were at the carnival with Hollie so you took residence at the Byers house for the evening. When the time came for you to shower, you had to look away as the diluted blood of your fallen love dripped from your body and slithered down the drain. 

The thread you were mentally holding on by was growing more precarious by the minute, made only worse by the news of Hopper's passing as well.

On the day before the funeral, Susan had called and invited you over to offer you anything of Billy's that you might want to keep.

You weren't sure at first but you were trying to rise above your own judgment and remember that you might feel differently in future. Right now, all you wanted to do was hide away and become nothing but atoms once more, unthinking and unfeeling. There was no hurt that way.

But you get there and Susan takes you the familiar path to his room, leaving you outside with a saddened smile. 

The door was the recipient of an anxious grimace as you stare at it, dreading going on the other side in case it tore through any resilience you had left. But in truth, being in this house was horrible enough. It would be easier to get this over with so you could get out of there.

So you push open the door and crumble beneath the floating scent of his aftershave, the overwhelming memories flooding your mind and leaving you feeling so faint you have to sit down on his bed after closing the door behind you. 

Even the feel of the fabric of his bedsheets hurt you. It was so strange how grief could do that to you. 

Before you can think further on it, your eyes catch the peeking of a cardboard box underneath his bed, stuffed hastily beneath it but not very well, as though he constantly got it out and put it back again.

Curiosity takes over and you reach down to pull it out, setting it down on your lap. Inside the box was a small stack of maps and a few cans of coffee. Huh?

Upon closer inspection, the coffee cans were empty, instead stuffed with roll after roll of money. Your brows furrow in bewilderment as you investigate further, unfolding a few of the maps to find small annotations and notes in Billy's handwriting. 

The maps were mostly of spots in California, a few circled places and notes of where he wanted to... Oh. It was places he wanted to take you on your trip with him. 

The other maps were maps of other countries you realise now, with annotations of places he wanted you both to explore together. It was hours worth of work, not to mention the endless saving he must have been doing to put back as much money as what was in those tins.

"Oh my God." You breathe out, teeth sinking into your lower lip as you read over the notes. You'd forgotten all about the trip since his possession, forgotten the plans you had to see the world together.

Folding the maps back up, you hold them against your heart, knowing there was no real comfort there but finding a shred of it in the knowledge he was actively planning it and excited for it. But, then, you only get sadder to understand he would never, ever, get to go to the places he marked on those maps.