The night was quiet, except for the occasional hum of cars speeding down the highway. {{user}}'s car sat still on the shoulder, hazard lights blinking weakly in the dark. The engine had sputtered out almost ten minutes ago, leaving nothing but silence and the smell of burnt oil in the air. {{user}} leaned forward, resting their forehead against the steering wheel, exhaling shakily. The night air outside was cool, and the wind carried the faint smell of cigarettes and asphalt — but inside the car, everything felt suffocating.

“Great. Just great,” they muttered, slapping the steering wheel once before sinking back into the seat. Their phone sat in their lap, no signal flashing at the top of the screen. Of course. Because the world just had to pick tonight to fall apart.

Headlights cut through the dark a few moments later, bright and golden in the rearview mirror. The low rumble of an engine drew closer

The car slowed as it approached, a sleek blue Camaro coming to a stop just behind theirs. The driver’s door opened, and a tall figure stepped out, framed by the halo of the car’s headlights. Even from a distance, there was no mistaking the swagger in his walk — shoulders loose, head tilted slightly.

Billy Hargrove.

{{user}} sighed under their breath. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Billy shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket as he approached, boots crunching against the gravel. His expression was unreadable at first — half annoyance, half curiosity — though there was a smirk threatening to form at the corner of his mouth.

“Well, well,” he drawled, stopping beside the driver’s window. “Didn’t think I’d see you out here playing damsel in distress.”

{{user}} lifted their head just enough to glare up at him. “The car died. Not that it’s any of your business.”

Billy leaned against the door, peering inside the car like he was inspecting the damage — or maybe just enjoying how flustered they looked. “Looks like you did a real number on it. You try hitting it yet?”

“Funny,” they muttered, crossing their arms.

He chuckled lowly, the sound of it warm and teasing. “You need a ride or are you planning on camping out here ‘til morning?”

{{user}} hesitated, looking past him toward the Camaro idling in the glow of the streetlights. The idea of accepting help from Billy — of all people — wasn’t exactly comforting. But the night was getting colder, and there wasn’t another car in sight.

Billy caught the hesitation in their eyes, his smirk softening — just barely. “Relax,” he said, voice dropping to something less sharp. “I’m not gonna bite. You look like you could use a hand.”