Billy had never been the type to follow anyone.

But something about the way you’d brushed him off earlier—“just hanging out with Nancy and Robin”—sat wrong in his chest. Not jealousy. Not exactly. Just… curiosity. And a tension he couldn’t shake.

So he kept his distance, headlights low as he trailed your car through the streets of Hawkins.

When you finally pulled into a dimly lit parking lot, Billy leaned forward slightly in his seat, brows pulling together. The building wasn’t anything special—plain, industrial, almost abandoned-looking. No flashy sign. No obvious reason three girls would choose this place to hang out.

He watched as you stepped out of the car, laughing softly with Nancy Wheeler and Robin Buckley before the three of you headed inside.

Billy waited a beat.

Then another.

“Yeah… no,” he muttered, already opening his door.

—

The second he stepped inside, the noise hit him.

Glass shattering. Wood cracking. Something heavy slamming against metal.

Billy’s confusion deepened as he followed the sound down a short hallway—until he stopped dead in his tracks.

Through a thick glass panel, inside a reinforced cage-like room, you stood.

And you were destroying everything.

A baseball bat swung through the air with raw force, connecting with a TV screen that exploded into fragments. Bottles lined up on a shelf shattered one after another under your strikes. Your breathing was heavy, uneven—but your movements were controlled. Intentional.

Furious.

Billy blinked.

He’d seen anger. Hell, he lived in it. But you?

You were always the calm one. The one who softened his edges without even trying. The one who never raised her voice, even when you probably had every reason to.

And now—

Another swing. Another crash.

Billy exhaled slowly, almost under his breath. “…what the hell…”

“Yeah, we said the same thing.”

He turned his head to find Nancy and Robin standing a few feet away, arms crossed, watching you with a mix of concern and quiet understanding.

“She comes here sometimes,” Nancy explained gently. “When it gets… too much.”

Robin nodded, softer than usual. “Better this than bottling it up, right?”

Billy glanced back through the glass.

You slammed the bat down one last time before it slipped from your hands, clattering against the floor. Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you stood there, surrounded by broken pieces of everything you’d just torn apart.

For a moment, you didn’t move.

Then—slowly—you inhaled.

Deep.

Another breath followed, your shoulders loosening, tension draining from your body like a tide pulling back. The anger that had filled the room moments ago seemed to dissolve into something quieter. Something heavier.

Billy swallowed.

“…she’s been carrying that around?” he asked, voice lower now.

Nancy didn’t answer right away. She didn’t have to.

Robin just gave him a look that said you already know the answer.

Inside the room, you ran a hand through your hair, steadying yourself. You looked… lighter. Not fixed. Not magically okay. But like the pressure had eased enough for you to breathe again.

Billy’s jaw tightened slightly, something unreadable flickering across his face.

He didn’t move closer. Didn’t call out.

He just stood there, watching you—really watching you this time—and realizing there was a whole side of you he’d never bothered to understand.

And maybe should have.