West Coast // Billy Hargrove

two // fixer-upper

Billy felt weightless.

For the first time in his life he felt like he wasn't carrying the world on his shoulders as he pulled the shutters up on the empty, almost derelict building. It wasn't massive but it certainly wasn't small either; a healthy sized gym filled with dust and cobwebs. He stood in the centre of the room and observed it all in its unkept glory; it was going to need a lot of work, that was obvious but he was willing to to do whatever it took to make it a success.

It had been left vacant for years, unloved and disregarded by the outside world in much the same way Billy had been by so many people in his life. The realtor almost couldn't believe it when Billy made an offer right there on the spot when he had shown him around, fully expecting another rejection and dismissal.

Billy's father had died a month ago and to his surprise, had left half of his money to him in his will; the other half going to Susan and subsequently, Max.

Billy had only talked to his father once since leaving Hawkins two years ago. He packed his belongings while his dad was at work and left without a single goodbye though he did give Max a hug, a promise to call once every two weeks when she was the only one home and an envelope full of cash in the promise that she wouldn't open her mouth about where he had went.

To say Neil had been angry about Billy's abrupt disappearance was an understatement, Max had informed him over the phone all about his little meltdown and how he'd trashed what was left of Billy's room before swearing that he was dead to him.

Now Neil was dead to Billy, both literally and figuratively.

Ever one for the dramatics, Neil had died by a heart attack. He'd left for work just like he would have any other day, grabbed a coffee once he got to the office and sat at his desk going through orders. Except this time, as he went to grab his mug of coffee, his chest tightened and the ceramic fell to the floor with a loud crash and shattered into a hundred pieces.

Max had been the one to tell him, he'd picked up the phone and heard her voice and was about to tell her off for phoning him knowing his dad would notice the expensive call out to California when she'd squeaked out that Neil had passed away. Billy had felt a whirlwind of emotions when he heard the news, he mostly shut down for a day or two and buried himself in alcohol and drugs as he lay in his apartment with the only company being the glow off the television screen in front of him.

When he'd sobered up and had time to digest the information, he made his way back to Hawkins and found himself in Susan's arms before he could protest to it. They'd never particularly been close, they had barely made conversation most of the time yet in that moment he appreciated her comfort. He'd crashed on their living room sofa for a few days, helping with funeral arrangements and flowers as well as ensuring Max was looked after as Susan grieved in bed all day. Though they argued their fair share as well, Susan did seem to love him and to that, Billy would never understand but he tried his best to be supportive.

The funeral came and went; a small service where the director read aloud a list of words, poems and sayings that reflected his dad in absolutely no way but for the sake of politeness, he sat and listened. He left to go back to California the next day once he could see that Susan was in a better standing than she had been when he'd arrived and Max ensured that they would both be okay and to stay in contact. Though they weren't actually related, Max seemed to be the closest thing to a family member he had so he promised that he would.

The whole thing hadn't felt real, as if he was in some long extended dream that he was going to wake up from and his father would stand before him with that signature frown on his face like he was so used to seeing. Most of him was relieved that Neil was gone, that he wouldn't constantly be worried that he'd track him down and force him to go back to Hawkins. Part of him however, felt sadness that he was no longer here; a strange emptiness that he was now alone for good, an orphan.