Stranger Things - Imagines (Book 2)

Billy Hargrove X Reader - I Can't Drive

A/N - This chapter was sort of inspired by the song I Can't Drive by Crawler, who are one of my favourite bands at the moment. The reader's Ex-boyfriend that she sings about is totally Eddie in my head, but he isn't named because I don't want to make him a bad guy 🥲. I kind of hate how I ended it so suddenly, but I hope you all enjoy it. 

Ever since he had moved into the house next to yours, Billy had been intrigued by you. I mean, you were one of the quietest, most unassuming people he had ever met, but from the rumours floating around Hawkin High, you had also been dating one of the most notorious troublemakers in town. It just didn't make sense, and the more he tried to make sense of it, the harder it seemed to be to figure it out.

I mean, you were pretty, so he got why any guy would be interested in you, but the real question was why would you ever go for a guy like that? After all, you could've had anyone, so why a drug-dealing problem child? He was certain, from the handful of interactions he'd had with your parents, that they would never have approved of the relationship, and for a while, he'd thought maybe that had been the appeal. Some sort of punishment to your parents. But, that idea had slipped pretty quickly. You had a great relationship with your parents. He'd not heard you bickering once since he'd moved onto the street. 

He'd been mulling the same thing over as he got home from Basketball practice, running the thought through his mind again until his eyes had strayed over to your house, finding you halfway out of your bedroom window. You scaled your way down to the ground effortlessly, a guitar case hanging off of your back as you landed on your feet, wiping your dirty palms against your thighs to clean them off. 

Here he was, thinking he knew everything there was to know about his little church mouse, girl-next-door neighbour, and then you went and pulled something like this. Sneaking out in the middle of the night wasn't exactly something that well-behaved girls did. 

For a second, he considered pretending he hadn't seen you. He could just go inside and act like he'd not seen you break out like it was the most normal thing in the world to you. But he knew deep down that his curiosity would kill him if he didn't figure out where you were headed so late at night. He watched as a car pulled up to the edge of the street and you hurried over, shoving your guitar into the back seat and climbing in. And before Billy could really think better of it, he was following the car. 

As much as you had already surprised him tonight, Billy was even more shocked to uncover your destination. He'd never been to the Hideout before, but even he could tell from the worn-out old sign above the door and flickering neon lights in the windows, that the place was a dump. And here you were, some pretty little thing, walking in as if you owned the place. 

Billy parked up, slowly making his way over to the entrance. He could already tell that this wasn't exactly a place that checked IDs at the door, and luckily, he had been right, waltzing straight in without anyone batting an eye. 

And then, he'd spotted you again, standing up on the stage, adjusting the mic stand to the right height. He stayed out of sight as best as he could, finding a standing table near the back, hidden away in the shadows and waiting to see exactly why you would sneak out to come here. 

A couple of minutes later, once you and two older women has set up on stage, the sound of a sharp guitar riff had started, and the room had fallen silent. 

"I drove my car off the bridge listening to Radio City, when our song came on, the one you used to sing with me. Fuck it, I can't drive, but I like to imagine. Put my hurt in a scene and then see what happens," you started, and Billy had frozen. 

You had a really pretty voice, but it wasn't exactly what he'd been expecting. Part of him had thought, in spite of the crowd and the state of the bar, that you'd come out with something that sounded like Madonna, maybe a little bit of Kate Bush at a push, but this was different. This was Debbie Harry or Joan Jett, but better.