Billy hated having to take that stupid art class.

That was one of the many reasons Billy had to hate Hawkins. They required a fucking art class to graduate.

And ever since he'd sat down at your table, Billy had dedicated his class time to tormenting you. He called you names, pushed you around, and found various ways to subtly ruin your projects. He was the bully, the Keg King of Hawkins.

Until one day, Billy was oddly silent in class. He didn't even look at you as he finally started actually doing his art project. He flinched slightly when one of the other guys yelled across the room. You could tell his bottom lip was split and there was a faint bruise around his neck.

"Billy," you said nervously. He glared at you from across the table, pausing his drawing.

"What?"

You rolled up your sleeve, revealing cigarette burns and a fading bruise. A new kind of silence fell between the two of you. In that moment, things shifted. He wasn't the new kid from California who bullied you and others day in and day out. You weren't the weird girl in his art class.

You were the same.