heaven-sent | b.h.

12.

Frances awakens to the blinding midday sun washing out a clear blue sky, and she rubs her eyes in an effort to wake herself up. Beside her, Billy snores lightly, his long eyelashes casting shadows on his cheekbones, his lips puckered ever-so-slightly.

The heater is still on full blast, and his cheeks are flushed, a light sheen of sweat on his forehead. She untangles herself from the heap of blankets and turns it down, careful not to wake him.

Then, she remembers why she is here. Hopper. El. They're still gone.

She unfastens her seat-belt and opens the passenger door as quietly as she can. One foot is out when a low rumble sounds from Billy's chest.

"Runnin' out on me when I'm sleepin', angel?" He squints one eye open, his lips curved into a smirk. "That's cold, even for you."

She groans quietly. "Figure you'd be used to it with all the girls you take home."

"Ouch." His arms emerge from his blanket and he stretches with a silent yawn. His hair is flattened from leaning against the headrest for so long.

"You shouldn't have let me fall asleep," she scolds.

"You needed it," he counters, throwing the blankets in the backseat. He no longer wears his jacket, and Frances watches the way his muscles ripple beneath his white shirt. "You wanna see if your dad's home yet?"

"You don't have to keep doing this, Billy," she says quietly, timidly, as she leans back into the car and shuts out the cold. "I'm sure you have better ways of spending your Sunday."

"Undoubtedly, but if I let you out of my sight again, you might have another breakdown and wander the woods like a madwoman." His voice is light as he turns the key in the ignition. "It's no problem, Fran, really."

"Okay," she nods, clipping her seat-belt on again. She doesn't have it in her to argue, especially since her legs are stiff from a day spent wandering all over Hawkins yesterday. "Let's go."

"Alright."

* * *

Despite the circumstances, there is something peaceful about riding in the car with Billy in daylight. Frances's eyes drift dazedly, following each tree they pass, each car that passes them, in an attempt to distract herself from the heaviness in her chest.

Billy taps the steering wheel restlessly, his eyes still swollen with sleep. They have already checked the trailer, and Frances made him wait in the car a few miles back while she checked the cabin in the woods, muttering an excuse about a hunting spot.

"If I ask you why you sleep in here sometimes, will you tell me?" she asks, breaking the silence.

"I told you last night," he replies dismissively, looking out of the window to avoid eye contact. "My house is a shit-show."

"Why?"

He hesitates. Frances sees his blue eyes icing over and she knows before he speaks that she won't be getting an answer. "Just is."

She nods in understanding, licking her dry lips nervously. "The trailer is empty most nights save for me. You're welcome to use it if you need to. You don't need to stay in your car."

"Am I your charity case now, angel?" he growls, jaw clenching.

She exhales in annoyance. "That's not what I meant." 

Her gaze falls outside again, and it freezes there as they pass one of the fields. In the middle of it, sticking out of a thick patch of woods, is Hopper's car.