You and Billy had fought earlier—really fought. Voices raised, words sharper than either of you meant, the kind that lingered long after they were said. You’d stormed off first, heart pounding, refusing to look back even though you could feel his glare burning into you.

Now the streets of Hawkins were quiet, the air cool and heavy with the hum of cicadas. Your footsteps echoed too loudly as you walked, arms crossed tight around yourself, replaying the argument over and over. You didn’t hear the car at first.

The Camaro rolled up beside you, engine low and familiar. You stopped short when it slowed to match your pace. The passenger door swung open, and Billy leaned across the seat, jaw clenched, knuckles white on the steering wheel.

“Get in,” he muttered.

You scoffed, not even turning toward him. “I’m fine. Go home.”

Billy exhaled sharply, irritation flashing across his face. “It’s late, {{user}}. And I’m not letting you walk home alone. Fight or not.”

You hesitated, finally looking at him. His eyes were hard, but there was something else there too—concern he was trying badly to hide. “You don’t get to order me around,” you said quietly.

His grip tightened on the wheel. “I know.” He paused, then added, a little rougher, “But I get to make sure you’re safe.”

The silence stretched between you, thick and uncomfortable. Eventually, with an annoyed sigh, you stepped closer and slid into the seat, shutting the door harder than necessary.

Billy didn’t comment. He just pulled back onto the road, the Camaro roaring softly as it picked up speed. For a while, neither of you spoke.

Finally, he broke the silence. “You really think I meant that?” he asked, eyes fixed on the road.

You stared out the window. “You said it.”

He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “Yeah. I did. And it was stupid.” His voice dropped. “Doesn’t mean I don’t care.”

You swallowed, tension easing just a fraction. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

A corner of his mouth twitched. “Yeah,” he said. “But you still got in the car.”

The rest of the drive wasn’t perfect—but it was quieter, steadier. And for now, that was enough.