AT LAST, I COULD BREATHE | billy hargrove

dear diary.

chapter song: Die For You - The Weeknd

dear diary.

Billy's POV

Breaking and entering into someone's home is wrong—I know that. I'm not an idiot. Sometimes it's necessary, though. Y'know, like right now.

I knew Bo was off doing God knows what with Steve Harrington because they're the best of fucking friends now, so it wasn't a surprise to me when I pulled up to her house and her car was nowhere in sight. As soft as it sounds, I couldn't get rid of this guilt and this weird feeling that she wasn't doing too hot. I needed to know if she was okay. I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel as I debated on whether or not to do it. As always, I picked the fuck-it option.

The next thing I knew, I was sitting on my heels on the small roof outside her window. I checked behind me to make sure no neighbors were watching and once I found out the coast was clear, I took a breath and turned back towards the window.

"Open, open, open," I chanted, attempting to will the window to be unlocked by some miracle. God must have been on my side or something because as soon as I started lifting, it opened with ease.

I also made a note to tell Bo that she should lock her windows: any creep could just come right in.

I shut the window behind me soundlessly and observed her room for a moment. It was messy as all hell—normal for her—so I wasn't worried yet. If I came in and her room was spotless I would have had a heart attack 'cause that sure as hell ain't Bo. The vanity next to the window had makeup and brushes and all that girl stuff all over it as per usual—also a good sign. Her bed was messy and looked like it hadn't been made in years, what, with the pillows and blankets strewn everywhere. And clothes and random objects littered the floor, which made it hard to walk without rolling an ankle.

I strode over to her bookshelf and searched for anything that might tell me something about her right now. My eyes landed on a small green book that sat under a few others on the second shelf. It was thin and had one of those tassel bookmarks to keep your page stuck in the middle of it. I couldn't tell you why exactly I thought it was important, but I think it was mostly because it was the one book out of all of them that looked like you could write in it...like a diary.

No.

That's so fucking wrong.

Against my better judgment--which isn't that great to begin with--I grabbed the book and opened it to the bookmarked page. With a sigh of guilt, I began reading the most recent entry in her neat handwriting.

                        November 4th, 1984

I know I haven't written in this thing since the beginning of time, but I guess desperate times call for desperate measures or whatever that stupid saying is. And clearly, I don't have a therapist, so this is the next best thing.

Basically, everything's fucked right now. I'm pissed off at everyone and everything all the time—mainly myself. I don't even really know why. Well, that's actually a lie. I know exactly why.

It really all started I suppose on Halloween night. I wasn't originally going to go to Tina's party, but then Steve pleaded and I knew Billy would make fun of me if I didn't, so I thought "Fuck it, I'll go".

I smirked at this, knowing she was exactly right as always. I definitely shouldn't have kept reading, but might as well finish what I've started.

    So I freaked out when I got home 'cause I had no fucking idea what I was gonna go as until I came across my freshman year costume of Marilyn Monroe—complete with the dress, heels, and wig. John showed up (he called to ask if he could come down to visit earlier) when I was done getting ready and we were off to Tina's. He dressed as Elvis (his costume from last year) and was as handsome as I remember, but it was so weird being with him after not being around him for so long. When we got to Tina's, though, he tried to get me to fuck in my car beforehand, but I told him to fuck off because I wanted to party first—like that was the whole point of going. Sorry I didn't want to waste a perfectly good costume that took hours to assemble. He got pissed off and I got out of the car and he followed as we headed towards the house.