Beacon Hills 1983

Chapter 33: Memories

(Teen wolf +Stranger Things)

"I don't remember." Billy repeats louder this time and with more certainty.

The memory of what I heard at the motel returns,
"What's happening to us- Why can't we remember anything?"

"We".
Timothée said "we".

"How don't you remember?"
I demand, keeping my elbow firm on his chest.
Billy looks down with that pained expression again- like he's trying to push against an oncoming wave.
"It started happening a few weeks ago. I have these... gaps. Can't remember certain things."
Oddly, he sounds calm.

Then suddenly, as if a switch has been flipped, he transitions back to his normal dauntless character, seizes me by the shoulders, and pushes me against the opposite wall.
My back hits the wet brick, hard.
I am now in the position I had him.

Oh how the tables have turned.

"Why do you want to know anyway?! You're the one being weird, stalking me!" He shouts over the gentle rain.

Stores outside the alley light up in bright colours, reflecting their shades of red and blue in the rising puddle of water on the ground. If we weren't so tense, the moment would've been surreal and aesthetic.

"I'm not!" I shout back, knowing full well that I have been stalking, both him and Timothée for the past week.

Only for Talia.

"Yes, you have! Ever since that day we got detention!"

Okay. Maybe NOT only for Talia...

"I...I..." My heart flutters, claws retreat. I'm lost. Blank. Stuck.
"Shit."

"Dont deny it, Nes." Billy lowers his voice.
The rain intensifies.
"You were waiting for me."
Billy is now so close, there's less than a centimeter between us.
I might've fantasized a moment like this... much differently of course.

I push him back with such unexpected force, he nearly falls.

This can't be that moment.
Billy would never think of me that way- the way I wish he would.

I stare at him potently, not knowing exactly what to say, or how to express the millions of thoughts and feelings I have right now.
The words that do escape, surprise me, "Why do you envy me?"

He shakes his head, laughing softly.
"You really don't know?"
I stare.
"You have everything." Billy's eyes glisten in the dark.
"Everything I ever wanted. And I knew that the very first day I saw you."

Billy scent matches his sad, angry face, and I know that his feelings are genuine.
My heart twists with pity as continue looking at him, trying so hard to remember the first day we met.
And then slowly... the memory is revived.

▪️ ▪️ ▪️

Seven years ago

Young Billy walked to his new school in Beacon Hills, eager for a first day among strangers who didn't know anything about him, or his family.
Although his mom was gone, it was possible to find happiness again.

Children laughed and played with their familiar friends, while poor Billy sat alone; wanting to approach, but not intrude.
He glanced around and noticed a short girl, with dark wavy hair and tan, but fair skin. She was jumping off an expensive black Chevrolet.
He thought she was quite pretty.
Then he saw who she was with.

Family.
Her mother, he assumed, was the tall brunette woman.
"That's odd." He said out loud to himself, wondering how come the woman was pale like him, and not tan like her daughter. But eventually he figured that the girl was mixed.
It didn't bother him at all, but thanks to his father always bickering on about "white-supremacy", he did take a minute to wonder what race her father was.
Regardless, he still thought she was pretty.

From the back seat, two more children with similar features to the pretty girl emerged.
The boy looked about three years older, while the other one, (another girl) was definitely a teenager.

Billy watched as the mother hugged the short girl tightly, promising her a lifetime of love and safety in her arms.
He remembered his own mother, being a shield from the painful wrath of his useless father.
Jealousy burned in his chest.

The older boy, (probably her brother) held her hand when the mother let go, and guided her towards the entrance of the school.
Just before the teenage girl turned towards the high school on the other end, she called out, "Good luck for your first day Baby-sis!"
"Thank you!" She shouted back.
Billy wished he had someone that cared about his first day of school too.
Anger fuelled his fists.

Resentfully, he watched the girl and her brother enter the school, hand in hand.
Billy couldn't help it.
He didn't like the girl.
Didn't hate her, but hated what she had.

"Hi. I'm Timothée." A scrawny boy came up to him, holding his hand out for Billy to shake.
But Billy wasn't in the mood to make friends anymore.
Billy was in the mood to vent.
Without giving it a second thought, Billy jammed his fist into the boys jaw.
Timothée fell on the rough tar, scraping his knee.
The little boy started sobbing.

Billy didn't care.
He didn't feel bad.
If anything, he felt much more relieved.