There are mentions of suicide throughout but there are no graphic depictions.

Ages:

- Clare, 16. 04/13/68

- Billy, 17. (I'm gonna say he was born in early October so he's only just turned 17) 10/02/67

- Steve, 18. (I'm guessing he's one of the oldest in his year if he's 18 in s2) 10/11/66

- Nancy, 17.

- Jonathan, 17.

Billy and Clare are both in the year below Steve, Nancy and Jonathan in high school. (EDIT (25/03/2019): after rewatching s2, I realise that nancy is supposed to be in the year bellow steve but it's too late to change my story now, and it doesn't really affect anything)

I have no editor/beta so sorry if there's any mistakes.

I hope you enjoy!

Crimson Wings

Chapter 1: Princess

Billy Hargrove, during her first sighting of him, had strolled into class with a wicked smile that Clare knew could ensnare her. But there was something off. She could see a ghost in his eyes, hidden ever so slightly under that wicked smile. A ghost which wasn't dead.

He hadn't paid attention to her. Not at all. And Clare was fine with that. Really. She didn't know if she could handle anymore ghosts.

A few weeks later though, things changed.

Wednesday 31st October 1984

She leant against the banister that wrapped along the outside of Tina's cabin, separate from all the other partygoers, with her head tilted up as she watched the stars blink against the ink sky. She was in all white. White gloves, white heels, and a white dress that appeared to be entirely made up of sequins and beads on thin strings, each reflecting the moonlight and making her glow. She was haunting, like a siren. And he was the sailor caught in a storm of teenage drunks being pulled toward her by the current.

That was the first time he saw her. He wanted her.

Billy walked up behind her, cocky as ever, chest still wet in places with beer. He admired her from behind, his heated eyes running up the length of her legs, enticed by the fishnets that clung to her flesh and disappeared under the beading of her dress.

"What'd you come as?" He asked, not really caring about the answer, he just wanted a pretty girl on his arm. An easy and pretty girl that would let him have some fun with her later.

She spun her head to him, fright evident as a small gasp left her parted crimson lips. He stood next to her, leaning his back onto the banister as a smirk grew onto his face.

"Hi." She said softly, as she fiddled with her gloves. Her eyes darted down to and then up from his wet chest.

He smirked.

"Hi." He said as his pink tongue dragged along his bottom lip. Her eyes were drawn to his moist lips before she darted her gaze back to the direction of the moon – even though her eyes now focused on the pale circle in the sky, Billy could tell her thoughts were only of him. He was the centre of her focus, the centre of her world in that moment. His smirk grew.

"Going to answer?" He asked, teasingly.

"What?" Her expression was cute; pouty lips and a small nose with big confused Bambi brown eyes. With those eyes, she really looked like a deer caught in headlights. Or a deer that had just noticed its predator. But there was something familiar in those eyes, evident to Billy even in his intoxicated state.

"What'd you come as?" He asked again, eyes sliding up her curves as he let his tongue lull out of his mouth to sit on his lower lip for a moment.

"Oh, I-I'm a flapper girl." She said, as she blinked dumbly and tugged at the end of her dress.

"A 'flapper girl'?" Billy's eyebrows drew together. "What're they?"

Her expression made it seem as though she'd said something wrong. Billy laughed a small sly chuckle at this expression, partly amused and partly to sooth her into letting her guard down. It had the desired effect and a cautious smile grew on her face.

"It's what party girls from the 1920s were called." She shrugged.

"Party girls, huh?" He smirked, cruelly, knowing the effect he had on her as he inched closer to her.

She nodded. She backed away as his form closed in until her back hit the wall of the cabin. She was in the corner, wedged between the wall and banister. She was trapped.

"What are you dressed as?" She asked in a small voice.

"Me?" He smiled a cruel, sinful smile. "I'm Billy Hargrove."

"I know who you are." She let out a short laugh and smiled sweetly. "We have a few classes together. So, you're not dressed as anyone then?"

"I told ya." He said as he creeped closer to her sweet scent. "I'm Billy."

Billy watched as her tongue swiftly ran over her lips. He wondered if she tasted as good as she smelled. He placed his hand on the wall next to her head, trapping her with both his imposing figure and his blue eyes. Billy knew the effect he had on women, and he regularly abused this power.

"What do you want?" She was brave to ask that question.

"To be friends." The lie was light on his lips and he inwardly sniggered. If he told her of the things he wanted from her, she'd run away, scandalised and offended. Or maybe she'd be into it, but that was a risk he wasn't willing to take on this small-town hick.

A breeze carried over the frosty October air and she visibly shivered, reminding them both of how little clothing she was wearing; the little white dress her only real armour against the frigid air. Billy wondered whether she shivered because of the breeze or because of his gaze. He reasoned that it could be both, but his gut was sure it was because of him.

"You look awful cold." He hummed as he leaned in and rested his hand on the hot flesh of the space between her neck and shoulder. "Wanna go warm up inside?"

Her tongue wet her lips again which drew Billy's gaze to her moistened red lips.

"Clare?" A familiar voice came from behind them.

Billy turned to find Harrington stood sternly and forbidding with hands on hips, shooting him a glare full of fury.

"Harrington," Billy greeted as he took a step back from the girl.

Harrington glowered at him. Then it clicked. Her brown eyes had seemed familiar to Billy and now he knew why. The same brown eyes were now shooting daggers at him. They were related. His cocky smirk didn't dare to leave his face as leant back against the banister, leaving Clare to bare Harrington's full scrutiny.

"You guys are twins?" He looked back and forth at them, playing with them both.

"No," She said as she shook her head twice. "We're 18 months apart."

"Clare, come on." Steve said firmly as he tried to ignore Billy. "We're going home."

"Where's Nancy?" She asked, tone rising at the end in question.

Billy swiftly surveyed their surroundings; the bitch Harrington came with was nowhere to be seen. Judging by Clare's question, they'd come together, but now they were leaving as a twosome rather than as a threesome. Billy smirked, armed with new ammo.

"What happened to your Queen, Harrington?" He smirked. "Did she get tired of your bitching? Or was it your floppy hair that did it?"

The anger in his gaze nearly made Billy chuckle, but he held it in, not wanting to alert Clare to the fact that he was thoroughly enjoying tormenting her brother. If looks could kill, Billy thought, smugly.

"Screw off, Hargrove." He ironed out. "Come on, Clare."

She walked toward Harrington then, so Billy grabbed at her wrist, pulling her back to him.

"I could give you a ride," He murmured into her ear, knowing that her brother could still hear what he was saying. "And after that, a ride home as well."

Something in him gleamed when he saw her mouth and eyes widen, cheeks stained red as she became aware of the double entendre.

Harrington stomped forward, breaking them apart and getting in Billy's face. He smiled, enjoying the threat of violence. Their chests almost touched, and Billy's knuckles itched to bruise and beat into the King's poster boy face. Billy lapped this feeling up; the almost tangible feel of the calm before the storm.

"Steve, stop." Clare pulled him away.

Other teens had taken interest in the commotion, turning their heads with bated breaths, alcohol in red cups forgotten for the moment.

Clare pulled Harrington away from him.

Harrington and his sister walked away, through the crowd that was starting to make noise again despite the disappointment on some of their faces that there was no fight to be had. They started to dance again, music vibrating the ground and loud voices replacing the tense almost-silence from before cheered for those who were drunk enough to do keg stands. Though he was sure none of them would beat their new Keg King.

Clare looked back at him before she disappeared into the rowdy crowd, expression unreadable to Billy. In that moment, her pale ethereal skin contrasted with her dark eyes, intensifying both shades of light and dark. Billy's drunk mind couldn't decipher why she was so appealing to him. He couldn't figure out why she reminded him of both the light of the moon and the darkness of night.

He told himself: there's plenty of bitches in the sea, before going to off to chase some other tail, smirk and chest drawing them in like moths to the flame. But for the rest of the party, he was unable to rid himself of thoughts of those liquid warm eyes.

…

Sunday 4th November 1984

Clare

"Get away from the windows!" I said, looking over to where the kids were. None of them moved, too engrossed by Steve and Hargrove's figures moving closer together. I knew that if Hargrove saw Max with any of us, it would end badly. God, I hoped it wouldn't end badly.

I strode over to the window and peered over to where Hargrove stood. He was gesturing with his hands, blowing smoke into Steve's face. Hargrove pointed towards the window, cigarette acting as his pointer finger.

I backed away and the kids ducked.

"Shit!" Dustin cursed.

"Well, I did say to get away from the window." I said, lips pursed, and eyebrows drawn together. I looked back to where Steve was to see his form being shoved down onto the concrete by Hargrove.

Fuck.

I ran to the door, swung it open to see Hargrove's foot coming down onto Steve in a harsh thrust.

"Hey!" I shouted, making quick strides to where they were. "Don't touch him!"

"I guess I am dreaming!" He looked down at my brother. "Not only the King but also the Princess! How lucky am I, huh?" He started walking towards me, until we met in the middle.

I looked to Steve who was still on the ground clutching at his stomach. Hargrove got closer until all I could see was his arresting figure now standing directly in front of my shorter stature. The scent of smoke and sweat and cheap cologne filled my senses. The courage that I'd had to come out here and face Billy drained from me in that moment.

"Why're you here, Princess?" He starred down at me like I was prey, like I was something to eat, and he was starved. He reached to my chin, grabbed it and forced my face up to look up to his. "You look so scared. That's so…" He looked toward the house, trying to figure out what word he liked best. "…cute."

He let go of my chin harshly and shoved into my shoulder as he walked past.

"Hargrove!" I called after him as I took a step in his direction.

"Don't worry, Princess!" He looked back at me, a strange mix of mirth and agitation in his eyes. "I'm only here for my bitch sister."

"Can't she just stay for a while?" My voice wavered, but Hargrove ignored me as he carried on over to the Byers' door and swung it open.

I ran to Steve, trying to help him up. He clutched his stomach, face wrinkled in pain, but I could tell he was trying to mask it.

"I'll get up now." He said, voice strained. "Just get to the kids."

I heard the door slam shut. I turned and went for the house.

Just as I entered I saw Hargrove yank Lucas up by his jacket as the others shouted for him to stop. I bolted around the corner to where they struggled. Lucas was dangling from where Hargrove held him. Lucas was all skin and bone – the complete opposite to Hargrove's taller and muscular figure. Seeing Lucas next to Hargrove made him seem impossible to stop.

I sprung towards them, my hands gripped onto Hargrove's shoulder trying to rip him away from the kid. Hargrove's toned arm shot out at my face, pushing me away causing me to fall back onto the dining table. Plates and cups fell off the table, cracking and shattering as they hit the ground. My hip had collided with the table, making me grimace in pain.

"Since Maxine won't listen to me, maybe you will." Hargrove's voice was low and predatory as he threatened Lucas. "You stay away from her. Stay! Away from her. You hear me?"

"I said 'get off me'!" The kid cried as he kneed Hargrove's balls. Hargrove stumbled back a few feet and let out an animalistic grunt. I could see Steve making his way through the door, pace quick and face stony.

"You are so dead, Sinclair!" Hargrove fixed his seething glare onto Lucas. "You're dead."

Steve grabbed his shoulder and yanked Billy so that he faced him.

"No." Steve said, face flat. "You are."

Hargrove's figure flew to the side as Steve swung at him, giving Lucas enough time to run to the arms of his friends, but Hargrove's feet were planted enough for him not to fall over. Hargrove started to laugh a crazed wild chortle. It was as if Steve punching him was the funniest thing that had happened to him in a long time. He took pleasure in violence.

I was getting flashbacks of when Steve came home bruised and bloodied from a fight with Jonathan Byers. If he couldn't handle Jonathan Byers, how would he handle Billy bloody Hargrove?

"Looks like you got some fire in you after all, huh?!" Hargrove looked half mad as he waved his hand around, grinning at Steve with blood dripping from his nose. "I've been waiting to meet this King Steve everyone's been telling me so much about!"

Hargrove took a step towards Steve, so I hurriedly got between them.

"Stop!" I held my hands up to Hargrove. "Just stop. Don't hurt each other."

I looked back and forth between them. Steve was looking over my head to Hargrove, his face stern and calculating. Hargrove gave me a look of annoyance like I had stolen a toy from him. The hunger I'd seen from earlier hadn't left. Stood this close to him now, I thought that I could see another bruise blooming on his cheek bone, but Steve hadn't given him this one.

"Coming to his rescue, huh Princess?" Hargrove's breath came out in a wave and it stroked my skin. The scent of cigarettes on his breath and clothes nearly made me gag.

"Just go, Hargrove." I looked up at him. "Okay?"

"Get out." Steve grunted.

"Okay, okay," Hargrove raised his palms in surrender as his open-mouthed smirk slid onto his face. "You got me, Princess. I'll leave…"

My breath left me. My forehead creased. It wouldn't be that simple, would it?

"…if… Max leaves with me." He said. Of course, it wouldn't be that simple.

Behind us, the boys were in an uproar. They shouted and cursed, they wouldn't let Hargrove take Max, but Hargrove wouldn't leave without her.

Hargrove's expression was dangerous and measured, almost like he knew that Max wouldn't leave without a fight. He was right.

Hargrove strode with quick forceful steps to the group of kids, but Steve acted quicker than anyone else, grabbing onto Hargrove's shirt and throwing him onto the kitchen table. Bottles fell onto the floor which left glass everywhere. More plates fell. The table creaked with Hargrove's weight. He got up and walked over to Steve. I knew that any chance of stopping a fight was over.

The silence was stunning. Then Hargrove struck.

…

Thursday 15th November 1984

Hargrove and I were each other's assigned lab partners. We had to work together until February, then present our findings in a paper, and give a presentation to our teacher. I could tell that working with him was going to be awful.

It had been two weeks since that night. Since I'd learnt about demo-whatevers and telepathy and top-secret government facilities and cover-ups. Two weeks since Billy Hargrove had beaten my brother to a pulp, only stopped by Max, a needle and threats of a nail-filled baseball bat. And now here he sat, next to me at our assigned desk near the back of the class. I could see the scabs littered on his fingers from when he'd torn up Steve's face.

Our stools stood faced slightly away from each other and the air held awkwardness and frustration. I was obviously still seething over what he'd done two weeks ago. I had asked Max if things had gotten worse with Hargrove since that night, and to my surprise she'd told me that they'd gotten somewhat better. But I knew there was something about Hargrove that she wasn't telling me. I guessed he wasn't being as crazy or as much of an asshole in school lately – or it at least seemed that way. I supposed that waking up in the Byers house to Hopper and Joyce was quite the literal wake-up call.

"We gonna start now?" Hargrove's deep and gravel-like voice questioned.

The bruise looked like it was healing nicely.

"If you want." I said as I looked at him, the faded greenish bruise on his temple and cheek bone were lit up by the sterile lights that hung from the ceiling.

"Uh… I'll go get the beaker and the uh, temperature thing." He said.

"A thermometer." I said.

"What?" He shrugged, nonplussed.

"The 'temperature thing'." I said, lightly amused before deciding to correct him. "It's called a thermometer."

"Oh." His expression went blank. "Yeah, I'll get that."

Hargrove stood from his stool and adjusted his jeans as he walked to the supplies at the front of the classroom. The girls sat on the desk behind started to giggle and snigger, no doubt pleased with Hargrove's appearance.

"Hey, Clare." One of them whispered.

I turned around, eyebrows raised in question as I looked at Gloria and Betty. These girls were known for their love of gossip. I'd been friends with Gloria before – until she began spreading rumours about why my parents were never home. But that was in eighth grade, so it hardly mattered anymore. We never really spoke at all since, so I wondered what she could want.

"Oh my gosh, Clare! We're so jealous." Betty said, her eyes alight and full of girlish longing.

"Of what?" I asked, eyebrows drawing together slightly.

"Of you and Billy." Gloria said and I watched the gum bounce around behind her lips as she spoke.

"Of me… and him?" I said. What the hell could they be thinking?

"Just look at his ass." Her eyes found where Hargrove was picking the equipment up. I felt my gaze travel over his long legs, to his well-shaped butt, then his broad shoulders. I felt my cheeks growing hotter. I couldn't help but remember him when he'd cornered me at the Halloween party. The way he'd acted had sent shivers down my spine. His hot gaze had made my mouth go dry and his hand had come to rest on my skin. He'd seemed charming until Steve had shown up. Hargrove had turned into a dick and had tried to provoke Steve into a fight. Perhaps that was when Betty and Gloria had seen us and added 2 and 2 only to conclude that the answer was 5.

"What're you jealous of?" I asked, incredulous as I pull my eyes away from Hargrove to face them again. "He's a dick."

"And what a beautiful one he must have." Betty said in a dazed voice.

I could practically see the drool coming from both of their mouths. I wondered how she could she talk about his… thing… so openly like that.

"So, you two aren't together or anything?" Gloria asked.

"What?" I asked. "No! Ew, God no!"

They looked at each other, both giving false expressions of worried guilt, but I could see the thrill in their eyes. They loved drama, especially when it was of their own engineering. What stupid shit had they cooked up now?

"But we heard…" Gloria started, faux worry laced her annoying voice.

"Heard what?" I demanded. It would only be a few seconds or so before Hargrove found the right equipment and strolled back over.

"Everyone's been saying it." Betty continued. "That something happened between you and Billy, and that was why him and Steve had that fight. Steve was, like, totally defending your honour or whatever."

"Totally." Gloria said as she blew a pink bubble between her lips.

"Umm, no." I shook my head. "Whose bat-shit crazy idea was that?"

"What bat-shit crazy idea?" Hargrove's voice came from behind.

My breath caught in my throat as I span my head towards him. Betty and Gloria giggled but surprisingly came to my rescue.

"Oh, nothing! Just girl stuff, Billy." Gloria smiled innocently.

"Yeah, girl stuff." Betty's eyelashes fluttered in a ridiculous way.

Were they trying to flirt? I shuddered internally. But for some reason it made me quite annoyed… frustrated, even. I shouldn't be angry with them trying to flirt with Hargrove. Disgusted, yes, but not angry. A nagging voice that pulled at the back of my head whispered something about jealousy, but I didn't want to listen.

Hargrove smiled his cocky smirk which put his perfectly white and straight teeth on show as he set down the beaker and thermometer on our desk. If this were some Loonie Toons cartoon, their hearts would be beating out of their chests right now.

"Girl stuff, huh?" He gave me a pointed look, the mirth clear in his eyes as he turned from the girls and sat in his stool. He inched closer to me as he spoke; "What kind of girl stuff?"

"None of your business." My lips pursed. "Just pass the temperature thing."

"Thermometer." His smirk grew.

"What?" I said.

"I think it's called a thermometer." He'd realised that he had caught me out and was now trying to exploit that fact.

"Pass me the… thermometer." I gave in, rolling my eyes.

"What's the magic word?" He purred.

"Please." I ironed out as I glared at him, not wanting to continue playing his game. It was his game after all, meaning the only one who could win was himself. Bastard.

His pretty smirk turned into a full-blown smile. An actual smile. Not one of his sly grins. If I were Gloria or Betty, I'd even say he looked handsome.

"Here you go," He slyly said while he passed me the thermometer. I tried to ignore the brushing of fingers that I knew he'd done on purpose. I tried to ignore the slight burning sensation when his cold skin touched mine. And the fire that still licked my skin even after we were no longer touching.

"Princess."

…

Thanks for reading!