Converse | Eddie Munson x OC x Billy Hargrove

Chapter 7

Trigger Warning: This chapter gets a little messy in terms of consent. Nothing happens, but it still could be triggering.

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"Attention Hawkins High, this is your principal, Salem Hadeed, with the morning announcements. In the coming weeks we have begun preparing for our 56th annual prom. Anyone interested in being on the prom committee should report to Ms. Daily's art room, 4A, on the first floor. Tickets will begin selling on the 8th of January, and we expect them to sell out entirely this year, so get them while you can.

In the meantime, before the prom, you better start considering who you'd like to elect as this year's prom king and queen nominees. Elections also begin January 8th.

In the cafeteria, pizza with a side of tots or an apple are today's options, brownie an extra charge.

The Newspaper committee is beginning to request highlights of the year, for the spare room leftover in the yearbook. If there are any photos you'd like to share, please report to the photography club at the end of the day.

Finally, with winter break coming up in the next few days, I'd like to personally wish each and every one of you a happy holidays- to those who celebrate.

Now, with all that excitement abuzz, please rise for our national anthem. Go Tigers!"

I felt myself rise, but I wasn't paying attention. Thoughts swirled around my head- of prom, of what I'd be expected to do this year, of Steve- if he'd be prom king again. And, lastly, of Christmas break. Would my parents even come home this year? I don't know if I wanted them to or not. Steve and I had grown quite used to our situation, our allowance- being left to our own devices. If they came home, they'd probably expect a Christmas present of some sort. I had no reason to indulge that- and if I even wanted to, I had no clue what to give them.

It was at my locker, a couple hours later, where I was shuffling supplies into, that I came face-to-face with Billy Hargrove. I had just taken out my last book, shoving it into my backpack idly. Thoughts of Christmas possibilities, how we'd get the tree down from the attic, and who aside from Steve was getting a gift were fluttering around aimlessly. The locker door slammed, myself and a couple other students nearby jumping at the sound. He was leaning smugly against the wall of lockers, one thumb hooked on his waistband, the other palm pressing my locker firmly closed. He flashed a cocky grin.

"You can't avoid me forever, cupcake." He sang tauntingly.

I turned the opposite way to avoid him. "You clearly don't understand that I actually can- forever."

"Yeah? And how's that- gonna keep running back to big bro, tell on me?" He cooed, joining my side as I paced steadily to my next class. "Last I checked, he lost the last fight."

My eyes flash, and I whip around. Last thing I needed him to do was talk about that night. Especially considering the eyes that were trying and failing to stealthily watch our back-and-forth.

"What do you want from me?" I hiss, hard gaze flickering from one eye to the other. He looked effortlessly casual, as ever. "I'm not interested. How many times do I have to tell you?"

"As many times as it takes for it to not be a lie," He smirks, placing a toothpick between his teeth. His eyes ravage my form unapologetically. "I want what I want. And usually, I get it."

"You're delusional." I snap, "And you're really gross. Get the hell away from me, or next time, Steve won't fucking lose."

He laughs, a scary, humorless laugh. But his expression had darkened as soon as I'd insulted him- called him gross. It was like he'd never been told that before. He truly got whatever the hell he'd wanted- he couldn't comprehend someone finding him repugnant. The hall was clearing at a rapid pace now, a bad omen for what was to come. My confident stance wilted, and I swallowed hard. He flicked his toothpick away- and before I knew what was happening, I was pushed into the lockers, Billy's arms trapping me on both sides of my head. I squirmed, shoving at his chest- but he was sturdy. He was like a rock, with legs. Not my most astute observation, but it was hard to think much more while he had this control.