A/N - This chapter was inspired by the (ever-relatable) song Go Go Juice by Sabrina Carpenter. This takes place after the series, when Billy and Reader are both fully grown (but still very immature) adults. I hope you all enjoy it.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
You hadn't really given yourself enough time to decide whether this was a good idea or not, huddled awkwardly at the payphone outside the bar, sheltered from the rain under the little cover attached to it.
And then, click.
"Hello?"
God, yeah; this had been a stupid decision. But deep down, part of you couldn't bring yourself to hang up. Billy had always had that hold on you, really; that ability to make you do stupid things without even having to do anything at all.
"Didn't think that you'd pick up," you finally started, swallowing down the lump in your throat.
"Y/N? Are you okay?"
"How's you been? What's up?"
There was a moment of hesitation on the other end of the line. "Are you drunk?"
"I don't think that's relevant," you hummed softly, stepping back slightly as you tried to regain your balance, your foot landing solidly in the puddle gathering behind you. "Fuck-"
"Where are you?"
"You never answered my question-"
"And you've avoided all of mine, so let's call it even, yeah?" he muttered. "Are you at home?"
You hesitated for a moment, your tongue dipping out to wet your bottom lip, your eyes falling closed. "Not yet."
"Where are you?" he repeated. "Come on, I'll come and get you."
"Billy," you murmured softly. "I didn't think you would pick up," you reminded him softly.
You heard him let out a soft sigh on the other end of the line. "Yeah, but I did, didn't I?" he told you softly. You nodded slightly, unaware of how stupid that was when he couldn't even see you. "Where are you, Sweetheart?"
"The Hideout," you finally hummed, pressing further forward out of the rain. "I can call a cab-"
"I'll be there in 10, alright, Sweetheart? Just hold tight."
*Time Skip*
The next 8 and a half minutes had been the most awkward of your life, scrunched awkwardly under the little bit of shelter, trying to stay dry, and internally berating yourself for calling Billy at all.
After all, he wasn't your boyfriend. Hell, he never had been. You'd had a sort of friends with benefits thing going for a while, an attempt at dating, which rarely led to you getting to go out in public together and had ended in a big blow-up fight 4 months back.
And now, he was driving across town to come and collect you because you were too stupid to avoid calling him when you'd had a drink too many.
You watched as the Camaro rolled into the parking lot, the lights cutting through the dark and the rain, landing on you, leaning against the wall. And then, just as you were about to step out into the rain and make a dart for the passenger side door, he'd thrown open his own, rushing towards you with an umbrella.
"Come on, let's get you inside," he started, ushering you back to the car, the raindrops pelting the umbrella, surrounding you with sound.
Once you were inside, the Camaro pulling back out onto the street, the heating blaring in an attempt to dry your damp clothes, you felt the anxiety settle back in your stomach.
"I shouldn't have called-"
"How much've you had to drink?" Billy interjected, stealing a glance at you from the corner of his eye.
"Too much," you confessed quietly, biting down on the inside of your cheek. "I'm sorry for dragging you out with the weather like this," you added, your voice softer than you had been expecting. "I should've just called a cab and gone home."
Billy let out a soft sigh. "I was happy to hear your voice," he hummed. "I mean, I was confused," he pressed on. "And a little worried that maybe something had happened, but happy to hear from you."
"And then pissed that I was making you come out in a storm?"
"I'm not angry," he corrected quietly. "I was actually thinking about calling you the other day."
You took in a deep, shaking breath, eyes fixed forward on the road, refusing to look in his direction. "Why didn't you?"
"I didn't think you would want to hear from me," he hummed softly, swallowing down the lump in his throat. "I thought you hated me. You said you hated me."
"I don't hate you," you confessed, finally risking a glance in his direction, noting how tightly he was gripping the steering wheel. "I never did," you pressed on. "But I was hurt that you didn't want to be with me. I wanted to hurt you as badly as you had hurt me."
He nodded, letting out a soft sigh. "I'm sorry for not being ready," he murmured. "I should've just been honest with you instead of dragging you along like that; it wasn't fair."
"Billy-"
"I'm not done," he interjected. "Please let me finish."
You nodded softly. "Okay."
"I got scared. I have never met anyone who has ever understood me the way you did, and the second you started suggesting that we could make it official, it got too real and I panicked." He hesitated, taking in another deep breath. "My therapist says it's something to do with my Mom," he confessed, and your heart clenched.
Billy had always had so much pain bottled up in him, had avoided questions about his family, had tried to keep himself distant whenever you tried to bridge the gap. He had been avoidant and noncommital. And now, here he was, telling you about his therapist, bringing up his Mom without you pushing.
"I'm not trying to make up excuses, Sweetheart. I know I hurt you, and I know that was on me, but I want you to know that I'm working on it. That I'm trying to be better." He paused, letting the silence sit between you for just a moment. "And I know this doesn't fix anything, I get that, but if you have it in you to look past how much of an idiot I was, I want to make it up to you. I want to try again, properly, this time."
You blinked, trying your hardest to fully absorb what Billy was saying. "You're saying you want to be with me?"
Billy took a deep breath as he pulled the Camaro to the curb outside your house. "Yeah, I guess that would've been a bit more straightforward way to say it."
"Bill, I-"
"I get it," he interrupted. "You don't have to try and soften the blow if I'm too late."
"I'm not trying to soften anything," you uttered. "I'm just saying it'll need to be slow, alright? I don't want to rush into anything and wind up getting hurt again."
His eyes softened as he finally looked at you properly, his lips tipping up at the corners. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," you confirmed quietly. "And you need to talk to me. Tell me where you're at. Communicate."
"I can do that," he agreed softly. "I'll make sure I'm doing it."
You nodded. "Okay," you breathed softly. "So, are you going to take me out to dinner? Maybe on Saturday?"
"I'll pick you up at 7," he confirmed, grinning from ear to ear as you opened the door.
"I'll see you then, Billy," you called back to him, jacket pulled up over your head as you hurried towards your house.
Please consider supporting me for just £3 using Ko-Fi. The link is available on my profile page. If you have any questions about Ko-Fi please feel free to private message me. Thank you. L x
