The night was quiet in the way only Hawkins nights ever were—too still, cicadas humming somewhere in the dark, the world holding its breath between moments. Billy lay stretched across the narrow bed, one arm thrown behind his head, the other already wrapped around you before you’d even settled in.

You fit there like you always did.

Curled into his side, your cheek pressed against the warm plane of his chest, you listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It was different up close—less angry, less restless than the way he moved through the world. Here, in the dim glow of the bedside lamp, Billy Hargrove was softer. Guard down. Just a boy pretending he wasn’t scared of how much he cared.

Your fingers traced slow, absent patterns over his ribs.

“Do you know why I feel so safe with you?” you whispered.

He glanced down, surprised by the question, then smiled—a real one, not the sharp, cocky grin he wore like armor.

“Tell me,” he murmured.

You shifted just enough to look up at him, eyes searching his.

“Because with you,” you said quietly, “I don’t have to protect myself.”

For a moment, he didn’t speak. His jaw tightened, just slightly, like the words hit somewhere tender. Then his arm tightened around you, pulling you closer until your body was flush against his.

“With everyone else,” you continued, voice barely louder than the hum of the night, “I’m strong. I’m brave. I’m always holding everything together.”

Your fingers stilled over his heart.

“But with you… I get to rest.”

He bent his head and pressed a slow kiss to your forehead, lingering there like he was afraid to let go.

“You make the noise in my head quiet,” you whispered. “You make the world feel softer. Like I finally found a place I don’t have to earn.”

That one broke something in him.

His grip tightened, not rough, just firm—anchoring. Protective. As if he could hold every bad thing away from you if he tried hard enough.

“You don’t have to earn anything with me,” he said, low and certain. “You already belong here.”

You smiled against his chest.

“That’s why I love your arms,” you whispered. “They don’t just hold me. They remind me I’m home.”

He closed his eyes, breathing you in, forehead resting against your hair.

For once, neither of you needed to fight the world.

For once, you were both exactly where you were meant to be.