Rain soaks through your jacket as you step onto Heather Holloway’s porch.

Your heart is hammering. Eleven’s vision still rings in your mind: Billy looming over Heather, whispering “It’ll all be over soon”; her voice panicked, drowning in icy water, calling for help.

Max trails behind you, muttering under her breath, while Eleven lingers a few steps back, pale and quiet.

You were the oldest so you knocked.

The door swings open.

Billy stands there. Perfect. You’re left confused. He never dresses like this around you.

Button-down shirt tucked neatly, hair perfectly done, shoulders relaxed. Calm. Smiling. Polite. Like he’s been expecting visitors.

“Ah, my little sister Max is here,” he says smoothly. “Glad you made it. Come in before you catch a cold.”

Your chest tightens as he dismisses you.

Billy, your boyfriend, the boy who swears at his stepsister Max, who intimidates others with his anger issues, is standing here like… a perfect gentleman.

Heather leans casually against the counter, arms folded, expression blank. She looks fine, but something is off.

Inside, Heather’s parents sit at the table, warm light spilling over them, plates neatly set.

Mrs. Holloway beams at Billy. “Billy, you’ve been such a sweetheart. Thank you for helping Heather cook dinner tonight.”

Your stomach twists.

He bows slightly, voice smooth and controlled. “It’s the least I could do. Dinner should be enjoyed while it’s warm, after all.”

Your hands ball into fists. Your heart pounds, not with fear, but with jealousy and anger at your boyfriend.

Max whispers, “Uh… what’s happening?”

“No idea…” Eleven frowns, confused.

Then he turns back to the parents, calm again, helping Heather with the food, offering Mrs. Holloway a napkin, all perfectly polite.

Your jaw tightens. You step closer to him. “We thought… we thought something happened here.”

Billy glances at you, a flicker of his usual dangerous self surfacing. Then, in a casual tone, in front of Heather’s parents:

“Everything is good here. I think you should head home, friend,” he almost snaps but makes it sound polite.

Your stomach drops. Your jaw tightens. He did not just call you “friend.”

You feel your cheeks heat with anger and jealousy. Relief that Heather’s alive battles against the frustration of being dismissed like that.

You step back, voice tight. “We’re leaving.”

Billy’s polite mask flickers, then slips slightly. “Good,” he says quickly. That single word sounded like a warning.

The door shuts behind you. Rain pounds down harder.

Max mutters, “That… that was so messed up. I’m sorry {{user}}….I don’t know what’s up with my brother..”

Eleven stares at the house. “Something’s wrong.”