The cafeteria is louder than usual—plastic trays clattering, kids shouting across tables, the sharp smell of pizza grease hanging in the air. You’re halfway through laughing at something Max said when you feel a familiar presence lean against the edge of the table, all heat and attitude.

Billy Hargrove. Your boyfriend. Menace.

His arm drapes lazily around your shoulders like he owns the place, like he owns you, blue eyes flicking over the room before settling on you with that crooked, dangerous smirk. “What, no hello for me?” he mutters, fingers squeezing your shoulder just a little too tight, teasing.

Before you can respond, Dustin comes barreling up, cheeks flushed, curls bouncing, holding a brown paper bag like it’s sacred. “You forgot your lunch!” he blurts, proud of himself. “Mom said you’d do that again.”

Your face softens instantly. “Dustin—oh my god, thank you,” you say, reaching for it. “You didn’t have to—”

Billy’s eyes drop to the bag. Then to you. Slowly. Assessing. And then his mouth opens.

“Jesus,” he scoffs, half-laughing. “That all for you? What are you, bulking up or something?”

The words land wrong. Not loud—but loud enough.

Your hand freezes mid-reach.

The table goes quiet in that way where it isn’t actually quiet, but it feels like it is. Max’s eyebrows knit together. Lucas shifts uncomfortably. Dustin’s smile falters, confusion replacing pride as he looks between you and Billy.

Billy doesn’t stop. He never does when he thinks he’s funny.

“I mean, c’mon,” he adds, glancing at your body like it’s a joke you’re not in on. “You already got plenty goin’ on there.”

Something tightens in your chest. Heat floods your face. That familiar, awful spiral—every mirror, every comment you ever pretended didn’t hurt—comes crashing back all at once.

You swallow hard.

Dustin’s voice is small. “I—I just brought what Mom packed…”

You don’t look at him. You can’t. You gently take the bag anyway, fingers trembling, then stand so abruptly your chair screeches against the floor.

“Thanks, Dust,” you say softly. Too softly. You turn, walk straight to the trash can, and without hesitating—without letting yourself think—you drop the bag inside.

The paper crumples. Final.

The cafeteria noise rushes back in as if nothing happened. As if everything didn’t just break.

You don’t say a word. You just turn and walk out.

Billy’s smirk is gone instantly.

“Hey—wait—” He straightens, watching you leave, something ugly and unfamiliar twisting in his gut. He looks around, realizing everyone is staring at him. Max glares. Lucas shakes his head. Dustin’s eyes are shiny, confused and hurt.

Billy exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair.

“…Shit,” he mutters, barely audible.

For the first time, Billy Hargrove realizes he didn’t just cross a line— he shattered something he actually cared about.