Billy didn't have many memories of his birth mom. But he could remember her face. Long blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes. The way she'd laugh as she tucked him in and kissed his forehead every night.

Fast forward roughly eleven years with no one but his dad for company. Beatings, cigarette burns, and downright neglect. And then he met you, the only upside of Hawkins.

Billy had climbed through your window for the third time that week. You could tell things were ramping up at home, and your heart ached for what your boyfriend must be going through. You welcomed him under the covers.

"Boots off," you whispered, poking his ribs. Billy grumbled out a complaint but obliged.

"Better?" he sassed, lying beside you. You didn't answer, simply kissed his forehead. Billy froze. His eyes seemed to water as he struggled to process the action.