The gymnasium still smelled like sweat and adrenaline. Billy strutted out with that cocky smirk plastered across his face, even as blood dripped from his busted nose and down his chin. His knuckles were raw and red and the metallic tang of blood lingered in his mouth as he spat onto the floor without a second thought.

Steve Harrington had said something stupid — something about you. He’d called you a game that Billy was using to score points in the competition he thought they were in. Billy didn’t even remember most of what Harrington said. He only remembered the anger, hot and blinding and the satisfaction of his fist connecting with Steve’s smug face.

Now as he swaggered down the hallway, blood dripping onto his shirt, his only thought was you. He wanted you to see what he’d done, what he was willing to do for you.

He spotted you just as you stepped out of the bathroom, face shifting from surprise to horror. Your eyes widened, hand flying to your mouth as you froze in place. For a split second, Billy thought your reaction was funny but the sharp sting of his nose brought him back to the moment.

“Wanna help me with this?” he drawled, gesturing to his bloodied nose. “Harrington had a lot to say about you. Guess I shut him up, though.”

He took a step closer. There was something wild in his eyes, dangerous and proud and he looked at you like you were the only person in the world who mattered. “So… you gonna fix me up or are you just gonna stand there lookin’ cute?”