Blondie Wannabe: A Billy Hargrove Fanfic

Christmas Day

We spent Christmas Day exchanging presents and drinking eggnog, or at least, most of us did. While Mom gave Susan an embarrassingly expensive fur cape that she'd probably never wear, I leaned in to ask Max, "Where's your brother?"

"He's with his dad," she whispered back to me, biting into a ginger cookie. "I don't know what they're doing."

That's right, Neil wasn't here either, but I hadn't missed his presence the way I did Billy's, and my father looked much happier chatting with Sal than he had with Mr. Hargrove, but I suppose no business acquaintance could compete with his favorite godson. "I'm gonna go find Billy and his dad and bring them down here."

Max gave me a concerned look, but I just squeezed her shoulder and left my eggnog behind, taking the elevator to our floor. I couldn't imagine what they were doing that was more important than Christmas presents. I went to knock on Neil and Susan's door, but stopped, a noise down the hall catching my attention. Mr. Hargrove was probably trying to convince his son to come down and be cheery for Christmas morning, so I continued to Billy's room, hoping I could aid in the effort. The door was already unlocked, so I pushed it open.

I stopped dead in the doorway, my mouth falling open. Neil had Billy pressed against the wall, the collar of his son's shirt punched in his fists, his teeth bared like a rabid dog's. I let out a small cough and they turned to face me, Neil grunting and wiping his nose nonchalantly, but my eyes were on Billy, his face twisted with pain and fear.

"Something you need, Deborah?" the older man asked.

I shook my head slowly, backing out of the room. Part of me wanted to stay and stand up for Billy, but I doubted he'd want me to, and the cold look in Neil's eyes scared me too much. I forgot about presents and my family waiting downstairs and ran back to my room, flinging the door closed and bundling up in my blanket. A trillion thoughts raced through my head, starting with how he'd reacted when we walked in on my father abusing Steve and ending with all my ignorant assumptions, acting as though I had it harder than him because of my parents.

A few minutes later, Billy barged into my room without knocking, making me wish I'd locked the door. I jumped off my bed as he marched up to me, eyes hot as blue fire. "If you so much as breathe a word about this to anyone-"

"Wait, what? I would never-"

"Cause I never said anything about your dad."

My cheeks went red with indignation. "And I never said anything about you hooking up with a boy-"

"Shut up! Shut the fuck up!" He grabbed my face, squeezing it so hard with his rough hands that I thought my skull might pop. "You don't get to talk down to me as though I'm some child."

"I'm not talking down to you. Now let go of me!" I grabbed him by the wrists, severing his grasp. "Is this why you like hurting me? Because you've been hurt?"

Billy chuckled mirthlessly, pushing his blonde curls out of his face. "This is the problem: you're always trying to psychoanalyze me, figure out what makes me tick. First, it was my mom and my cigarettes; now it's my dad and my sexual habits."

"I'm the problem? I think the problem is that you get off to tying up girls."

His hands clenched into fists at his side, then he relaxed, sneering down at me. "I seem to recall you getting off to it too. Actually, I recall you leaning into my car like a streetwalker because Sarah told you what I did to her and you practically begged me to do it to you. But I guess that's the Harrington legacy- blaming everyone else for your fucked up life."

"What's your family legacy?" I asked, nostrils flared. "Are you going to turn into a slimy, violent prick just like your father?"

He slapped me so quick, I almost didn't believe it happened, but my stinging cheek and the water collecting in my left eye couldn't lie. I clutched the side of my face, looking up at him, expecting a terrified boy begging my forgiveness, but instead, I saw a stone-faced man with his arms crossed decisively across his chest. "You can't do that," I said slowly, still in shock. "You can't just hit me because you're angry."

"What are you going to do about it?"

"I'll, I'll-"

"You'll tell your daddy? Have him throw me in jail?" he mocked. "What will you say? 'My teenage student- who I've been fucking for weeks- hit me like you hit my brother, so I want him locked up'?"

I inhaled deeply, willing myself not to cry; he wouldn't get the better of me. "We're done. There is nothing between us anymore. At the end of January, you will no longer be my student, and we'll never see each other again, except in passing."

Billy snorted. "You've made righteous declarations like that before; you'll crawl back to me within the month."

"We'll see, won't we? Now get out."

He left without so much as another word, didn't look over his shoulder wistfully or slam the door in anger. Once he was gone, I could breathe easier. I settled onto my bed, hugging my knees to my chest, my left cheek cold now that the stinging had passed. The separation might not have been clean, but it was needed, and the bleeding would stop and the edges heal, the calluses leaving me stronger than before. But right now it ached so badly I could break down in tears. How could he leave me so easily? I was a grown woman; I shouldn't be hurting over some kid who didn't love me, didn't even want me. 

I drew myself a bath, determined to cleanse my body and mind of Billy, of everything we'd done to each other, everything we'd been. Soon, this would all seem like a distant memory, and I'd be free.

Sorry it took me so long to update, I had a difficult time writing this chapter (and I'm still not 100% satisfied with it) and I also had some work to do on a freelancing job. I'm excited to have it, but it's a lot of work and I'm really nervous about doing a good job. I'm hoping to finish this story before ST3, which premieres on July 4th, but we'll see... Vote and comment if you'd like!!