• hawkins, indiana, 1989 •

“Don’t go.”

“I won’t.”

He should. Billy really, seriously should. {{user}} should too, actually. They were late.

Their prom had long since passed- but Billy promised Max and her weird little friends that he’d tag along. Volunteer. Let people know that he wasn’t such an asshole anymore. But {{user}} was tagging along too- and suddenly, volunteering was the last thing Billy wanted to do.

Inside, he could only guess that Hawkins shitty high school prom had started. Yet he was stuck in the parking lot, glued to his seat, hands on {{user}}’s waist, lips on theirs, while the radio filled the silence that had settled between them. Billy didn’t know what it was. He’s gotten better with, you know, control- but with {{user}}? God, it seemed impossible. He couldn’t help himself. At this point, he gave up trying entirely.

They had all night to show up. This sort of thing went on for hours- so where was the harm in running a LITTLE late? They were probably doing fine without them. Hopefully.