❛ MY BOY ❜ ʙɪʟʟʏ ʜᴀʀɢʀᴏᴠᴇ

TWENTY ONE ! are you really okay, my love?

꧁ ❛ MY BOY ❜ ꧂
ᵇᶦˡˡʸ ʰᵃʳᵍʳᵒᵛᵉ

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
ARE YOU REALLY OKAY, MY LOVE?

"JONATHAN AND SARA."

The teacher called whilst Jonathan was daydreaming, in his best attempt to avoid making eye contact. He jumped due to the unexpected sound, grabbing the card that he had planned their small business onto; Barb's place.
            Sara was nowhere to be seen. She hadn't turned up to school that morning and not given Jonathan the memo. He never thought he would feel the harrowing sensation of betrayal from her, but somehow, for some unexplained reason, Sara was not there with him to help with the presentation.

"Jonathan, where is your partner?" The teacher asked before the nervous boy could even swallow.

         He crunched the edge of the stock paper in hesitation, debating whether he should cover for Sara or throw her straight under the bus. He wanted to shrug and blow her off coldly, but his mind replayed the distant crackling from the record player in her room. He imagined the taste of the soda, the static fizz when he kissed her. He wished he could feel like that again.
            However the feeling of conflict when she demanded he left burnt like wildfire. Should he have stayed?

"She's sick today, sir."
He had never wanted to punch himself in the face more than he did in that moment.

          Jonathan inched his way to the front of the class, his nerves skyrocketing through the roof. The only eyes watching him were the small few who genuinely cared about education, however it was soon changed once he held up the logo drafts of the restaurant. The name echoed throughout the room, bouncing from mouth to mouth like the plague. It was a shame that Barb was now more spoken of than when she was alive.

"This is Barb's Place," Jonathan pointed to the sign, mentally slapping himself one more time, "it's a-- a restaurant that caters all the foods that Barbara Holland loves... I mean loved."
He gulped, picturing Sara's injured hand as she wrote down a list of everything she knew Barb liked. The list was taped onto another presentation board.

"Why Barbara Holland?" A girl asked, her hair messy and in loose waves. She was chewing some gum, holding onto a type of image that made her appear like she didn't care about school.

"Why?" Jonathan repeated back, not recognising the girl because she had been silent for the whole year, "because... Sara and I agreed that when we lose someone, we shouldn't forget about them," his mind wandered to Castle Byers, "no matter how far away they might feel or whether you feel like they're not out there at all."
Shivers ran down his spine, longing to be with his mom who still thoroughly believed Will was still somewhere in the world.

          The presentation continued and when Jonathan had explained all he had to say, he sat back down, folding all of his hard work into his bag. He was still angry. He was still hurt because he knew exactly where Sara was.
          After class, Jonathan picked himself up and strolled through the hallways, deciding in his brain that he wouldn't be so naive around Sara any longer. She had proved to be nice on the outside, but a complex, tar-like wax melt on the inside. Sara burned silently, and candles left unattended can devour a house in flames.
           Suddenly, he felt a smouldering stare held on the back of his head. He could feel his thoughts gnarl together as the temptation to throw a punch poisoned his bloodstream.
     
          An immaculate hunger twisted his insides as he lurched at the figure. His white fist was quickly grappled in the palm of Steve Harrington. Soon, his boiling blood became a dry abyss.

"What do you want?" Jonathan asked with eyebrows low.

"Where is she?" Steve stood confidently, his hair bouncing as he spoke. He watched Jonathan's eyes lose their shine and a mask of confusion fall onto his face.

Jonathan shrugged.
"You're her brother; why should I know?" He secured his bag onto his shoulder and turned away.

"Well, if you see her," Steve called, a hand outstretched, "tell her to come home. Family meeting." He justified, nodded and allowed the Byers boy to leave.

          Sara swung her legs back and forth on the edge of Billy's bed. He had eventually fallen asleep after the exhaustion had caught up with him and the tears stopped curling around his chin. She listened to his beating heart rest peacefully, occasionally running her delicate fingers over his soft cheekbone and through his tangled curls. She felt the heavy irony, their roles had been switched and Billy was the fragile one.
          Underneath all the masculine damage, Billy was more fragile than the glass ballerina that perched on Sara's dresser at home. She thought if she were spin him too hard in country-dancing class, his limbs might just snap. She often found it hard to get his attention under the mop of blond hair that dominated his narrow face, but his eyes were in there somewhere and he listened to every word when he climbed into bed.

          The room was pretty barren, containing only a small bed, a full body length mirror and weights. Billy held no other possessions except for his pack of cigarettes and his lighter; the other remaining bulky collection was his aftershave and risky magazines on the shelf. She then tip-toed to his closet, smoothing over the sleeves of hung up shirts and jackets.
          As she walked back to care for a stirring Billy, she kicked a box and stubbed her foot. Harshly, she gripped into the throbbing area, holding in a desperate cry of agony. She went to scold the inanimate object until she noticed what the box kept inside.
          The polaroids had collected dust, but the recent fingerprints inferred that Billy had brought them back into the light. One photo featured a beach, and what Sara assumed was a young Billy, surfing on the waves in California. The memory of him made her sad, broken people can get you like nobody else.

If only now Billy could feel free like paper in the sky.

"It was sunny that day." Billy mumbled from behind. He had gazed at the photograph in Sara's hand for a few minutes as she took it in too. She turned, worried he felt invaded of privacy.
"Its never sunny in Hawkins." He said.

"It doesn't have to be sunny to be a good day," Sara replied, placing the Polaroid back into the box, "and even if it's not a good day, it might be sunny tomorrow."

"Why do you do that?" Billy asked, resting his forearms on his thighs and leaning closer to the girl sat on the floor.

"Do what?"

"Give people advice but never take it for yourself." He explained.

"People like me are subtle with their fix." She told him, crossing her legs and staring right back.

HEY. IT'S ME. MOOSE.

so ik nothin is happening rn
BUT IT WILL SOON TRUST ME OK
I'M THE AUTHOR I KNOW MORE THAN YOU

lol ok

ALSO the rumours are true
I am writing a steve harrington fic
YEET its coming soon lads
I think yall are gonna like it

anyhow I went to Leeds festival that's why I'm late with this update soz guys
I was too busy jamming to yungblud, billie eilish, royal blood, foo fighters... ithinkyougetthepointnow

(Everyone's like omg moose is a brit??)
(Yes. Yes I am.)

OK SEE U LOSERS LATER
XOXO