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↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺
IT WAS PROM night and Billy was spending it alone. He had been planning to try and work things out with Molly after basketball practice but he spent his chance staring at her like a fool in amazement. Just like he always did. For the past three months, he'd been contemplating what he could've done that Valentine's night instead of just staring.
Although he had done worse things, Billy would be lying if he said he didn't regret what he did that night, or rather what he didn't do. He could tell himself he wasn't thinking straight or he was just in a state of shock all he wanted, nothing would change the fact that he might never get the one girl he cared about more than anything to even look his way ever again.
On prom night however, he was looking at himself in the mirror, getting dressed up and thinking to himself that he didn't need Molly at all. He didn't need anyone. He was Billy goddamn Hargrove. He can be an animal, he can be a killer. He definitely didn't need to get hung up on some ballsy charity case with a fucked up past and two spare boyfriends up her sleeve. And he was certain she didn't need him. If she was off with 'King' Steve Harrington, why should she need to string along Billy Hargrove?
He was saying these thoughts so loudly because he knew very well they weren't true at all. He just needed some week consolation for the fact that just a couple months ago, he was going to spend prom night with the girl of his dreams, and now he'd pushed her away into a place where he could forget she existed.
Regrettably, he later found himself waiting outside the gym next to his car. He thought if he couldn't go to prom with Molly, he could at least try and find someone else to spend the night with. At the very least, he'd give Molly a look at what she's missing out on.
He spotted Harrington's car pulling up to the parking lot. He pulled his collar up, flicked out his hair and got ready for Molly to start drooling all over him again.
His eyes narrowed when he saw Harrington step out of the car but every nerve in his body softened when he saw Molly.
She really did look like a princess. She truly looked like ancient royalty in that trailing red ballgown, like something out of a tragic fairytale. No wonder she wasn't going with some jerk like him, Harrington looked way more like prince charming that night than he ever could. Her corsage even matched Harrington.
He could feel his chest squeezing as he wished to God that he could've been the one to take her into the gym, arm in arm, as graceful as night. Why couldn't it be him? Why couldn't he just be good? Why couldn't he be good enough for her?
