April 6th 1985.
San Diego, California.

~Billy~

I wouldn't exactly call myself the most emotional of people. Shit, I could count on one hand how many times I'd cried since my voice broke. But the moment I stepped off the plane with nothing more than a backpack of clothes and my girl's hand in mine to the warm welcome of the suns embrace, I wanted to shout out the words caught in my throat a million times over, again and again until my voice was raw.

Home… I'm home.

You couldn't have gotten me down to the car rental place faster. The very second the keys to the cherry red convertible were handed over, we were gone, following the endless stretch of blue sky. Our hair flew wildly in the wind as I sped down the highway, music blasting and screaming out the lyrics of Don't Fear The Reaper. We hit a stretch of road completely free from the usual hustle and bustle I'd missed so much whenever I'd found myself in the Hawkins school rush and I just couldn't help myself. I tangled my fingers with Sierra, feeling the softness of her skin as it soaked up all of the sun we'd been deprived of in Hawkins. All it took was a single glance at one another and we filled this empty road with whoops and good ol' rock and roll with all the might we had stored in our lungs, until we were panting, laughing messes. As we reached a red light, I watched with a huge grin on my face as Sierra threw her head back, dark curls gently moving in the warm breeze, and freed the most beautiful laugh. It was perfect. Everything about this was just so fucking perfect. Here I was! Back home, breezing down the highway full of endless possibilities and routes, basking in the sun. To top it off, I was sharing it with the girl I loved. I kissed the back of her palm and held her small hand in mine. We'd worked our asses off to afford the plane tickets down here. Going to California started as an idea after what happened on New Years Eve. Basically, Sierra, Harrington, Pepsi and I went to a New Years Eve party held by Heather Holloway and you guessed it, I got absolutely shit-faced. Started talking all nostalgically about how I would go with Harry, Michael and the rest of our gang down to Pacific Beach and watch the fireworks with a few cans, sleep on the beach and wake up on New Years Day at the crack of dawn to start surfing. It'd been a tradition for at least three years now and the more I thought about it, the more this fiery envy creeped up on me until it was rippling through my tightened fists.

I'd managed to keep my anger at bay, away from ruining my relationship with Sierra and new friends. But that night, I sat in my Camaro as everyone watched the fireworks and screamed into the leather jacket I was clutching onto. Sierra eventually found me just before midnight and instead of giving her the New Year kiss she deserved, telling her she was the best thing to come out of this move, she listened to me hark on about how much I missed California. She sat there quietly, tilting her head whenever I looked away from her out of shame for getting emotional about this kind of shit, soothingly rubbing her thumb against the palm of my hand. I was so exasperated by my own inner conflict. If I hadn't moved to that hicktown, I would have never met her. I would have never known what it was like to love someone. But fuck did I miss my friends that night and it enraged me. I should be grateful. After all, what I thought would be the worst thing to happen to me in my life had opened up new doors to greater pastures. So at the stroke of midnight, I welcomed 1985 with tears liberating themselves from my incarcerated eyes. Fireworks lit the night, an array of reds, blues and gold glistening in the tears as they streamed down my cheeks. Christ, I felt awful. I was angry at myself for being so ungrateful, at allowing this weakness to beat me down to this crying fucking mess. It was as if the chaotic explosions above us had seeped into my bloodstream, urging the twin to t once again. Just as I was about to get out of the car, murmuring a half-apology to Sierra, she clutched onto my hand and in the most defiant voice said, "Billy, sit back down".

I was stunned. Stunned at how her assertive tone contrasted with her empathetic, softened features. The green eyes I often searched for comfort flecked with an intense gold, issuing their command. I wasn't sure if I was more surprised by her voice, the way those eyes glowed or when I found myself closing the car door and remaining in the driver's seat. My eyes lowered and the twins' heads reared once again. I should have remained strong. I should have never cried. Above all, I should have never let my girl see the weakness that lay beneath the surface. The twin wanted one thing and one thing only: to push back. But it was as if Sierra's intuition could hear its taunts and she alone had one mission in mind, and that was to push back even harder.

"You're valid in how you feel, Billy. You can feel happy you met me and the others, and still feel bitterness at how you were forced from your home" she had said. It stung. Having someone else verbalize and confirm it for me. That I was forced out of California. First, it was as if a wasp had stung me - venomous, painful. But after a few moments, the pain subsided and I was suddenly eight years old again, forcing myself to bite down hard on my lower lip yearning to tremble. Then, she asked the one question no one had ever asked me before. "What do you think would help you?"

Before the twin could force me out of the door, the answer, the craving I had the moment we stepped foot on Hawkins soil, shot out of my mouth.

"I want to go back"

And that's where the seed was planted. For a solid hour as everyone at the party made out, got loaded and partied the night away, Sierra and I planned how to get me back home again. We were both realistic that it wouldn't be for a long stretch of time. I wanted her to come with me, so I could show her just why I missed this place so much. From there, we made two goals: get jobs and pay for the flight over. Sierra got a job at this bougie restaurant as a waitress a few miles outside of Hawkins where she raked in a shitload of tips and I started working at Hawkins Community Pool. During the winter, there was an inside pool where I started off as a lifeguard and eventually started teaching elementary kids to swim after school. At first I was dreading teaching the kids, but Zack ended up being in the class so life was made a little easier. After a couple of months, the manager liked how I pulled in overtime and got me working in the gym too. It was a sweet set up - I'd work straight after school on Wednesdays and Thursdays, do my shift until 8pm when the place closed and if Sierra was working, then I'd drive to pick her up before heading back to hers for the night. If we weren't working, we were usually at her house or Harrington's. Turns out Harrington, the guy whose lights I wanted to knock out only a few months prior, ended up being… fuck, I still cringe when I have to give it a label…a close friend. I still hung out with Tommy, Carol and Ray at school but I made it no secret that if I had to choose between all of them, Harrington would take priority. The guy'd listened to me rant and rave that many times over a cigarette about how much I hated Him to the point the where he'd see me pull up to his house unannounced and stand in the doorway with a crate of beer with this arrogant 'Fancy seeing you here' expression on his face. Sure, I knew I could confide in Sierra, but I needed another guy around. Nah, Harrington was pretty solid. The guy still owed me $20 from a bet I'd won from the last Indiana Hoosiers game we watched though. Fucking asshole.

By the end of March, Sierra and I had managed to get enough pooled together for a motel to stay in for the week and a car. The night of my birthday, I was stopping over Sierra's for the night. We were going to head out for some food, maybe catch a movie, but when we opened the door to her house, we were welcomed by the loudest, "Surprise!". There in front of me was just about everyone you could think of - Harrington, all the kids, Max, Pepsi, Nancy, Byers, Zack, Sierra's grandparents. We spent the whole night laughing and joking, introducing Sierra's grandpa to a good old bit of metal - which the old, staunch Republican actually loved - and gorging on the chocolate cake Sierra had baked. When I blew out the candles, I made one wish: please get my girl and I to California soon. I wasn't expecting the wish to come true so soon. After everyone had left and it was just Sierra and I sharing the last piece of cake in the kitchen, it turned out the birthday party wasn't the only surprise she had in store. Smoothly, she slid an envelope across the marble countertop and arched her brows in an order for me to open it. Like an excited kid, I ripped open the envelope and there was my surprise.

Two tickets from Indianapolis to San Diego - April 5th 1985, 19:00pm.

I stared at them for a few seconds, blinking as I tried to get myself out of my daze. For a moment I was genuinely contemplating if what I physically held in my hands were real. But as I leapt over the seat and hauled Sierra in for a hug, whispering a thousand thank yous, it became official. I was going home.

And here we were, racing down Garnet Avenue to the first place I wanted to take my girl. The second I got a whiff of the salty, oceanic air, the hairs on my arms stood up and the corners of my mouth sprang to action. All I needed to hear was the crashing waves and I'd know for sure this wasn't a dream. The moment I did, God it was something I couldn't even put into words. My home, my lullaby and spirit all in one. The ocean. A place of serenity and unpredictability all in one. Ever since I was young, and maybe I got this from my hippie mother, but it always seemed as if I was being the truest version of myself when I immersed my head under the sloshing waves. It drowned everything out, but not enough to stop me from coming back up for air. I peered over excitedly at Sierra who was just as animated as I was, grinning away in amusement at how goddamn happy I was to be back here. I wasn't just happy to be home though. Nope, I'd made Sierra vow something to me as we got on the plane - I was teaching my girl how to surf.

"You ready, baby?" I asked as she started to get out of the car. Dressed like a local in her cut-off denim shorts and a black halter top vest, pitch black circle sunglasses perched on top of her head, Sierra broke her adoring gaze from the ocean to me. "Pretty cool, right?"

"It's gorgeous here!" I could tell she was falling in love with the place. If it were up to me, she'd fall in love enough to move here with me once we'd graduated. She'd eased up a little about potentially moving out of Hawkins after her grandparents said they were prepared to move with her so Zack could have a sense of security. They were good people. How the hell they ended up with a son like Anthony Nightingale I had no idea. "Is this the beach where you'd have your surf shack?"

I was always caught off guard by how much information Sierra was able to retain. It was as if she could effortlessly find a needle in a haystack. We'd not really returned to the topic of my pointless childhood dream since that night in Harrington's spare room, so I was sure my surprise was pleasantly visible. Despite it being some throwaway idea created back in the small bedroom on Lavender Drive, I was still going to show her where I'd envisioned this dilapidated surf shack living. I laced my fingers with hers and we walked down the promenade together, looking like a couple of excitable teenagers who couldn't keep their hands off one another. You would've thought that people knew what we had seen or figured out there was something different about us by the way they gave us their undivided attention. As we sauntered on by an old couple peering out at the potential of what was beyond the shimmering waters smiled at us both; the two bleach blonde bikini clad girls whose lips parted and roamed our bodies. Maybe it was because Sierra's Midwestern accent stood out, perhaps aesthetically we were seen as cool. I knew I was good looking. Sometimes I thought it was the only thing I had to keep me going. So when I got out of the car wearing my red Hawkins lifeguard shorts and white gym tank top, I was expecting to receive looks. Hell, I did wherever I went. I was expecting Sierra to receive them too. My girl was hot. Together, we were on fucking fire. Not just on the outside either. No, there was a love smoldering inside the both of us. I'd never loved a girl before. I was so raw to the entire experience, loving someone else. I wanted to preserve it, protect her at whatever cost, show her with my body and soul how much I fucking loved her. Soothingly brush my thumb over her small hand, show her the rare wonders of my childhood, kiss her naked skin and hold her close to me. Anything. We were all the elements together - the sea mist as it clouded the air, the burning hot rays from the sun, the thrum of the cars down the avenue - and that is exactly why we caught the attention of every passerby. Because we were something incredibly special.

"Well, here it is" I proudly announced as the promenade drew to an end. With a toothy grin on my lips, I nodded to the location I'd kept a secret until that night I thought we were doomed to die by demodogs. A patch of land with strewn weeds sandwiched between a cafe and an old man's rickety newspaper stall. The dream of a lifetime lost to a never ending thunderstorm only to be found by a spark of hope.

"Never say never!" Sierra said, smiling sweetly at me.

"Isn't that some Peter Pan bullshit?" I asked incredulously, struggling to hide the smirk forming on my lips. Likewise, Sierra barely concealed her own amusement and instead opted to flip me the bird with a goddamn sexy as wink to compliment the already sexy as fuck move.

"Whatever, Hargrove" she chuckled and motioned to lean against the chipped white rails, tilting her head with a forever intrigued expression on her face. "I can see it working"

"Sure you can" I half grumbled, half laughed and moved to join her.

I hadn't shared any of this kind of shit with anyone other than her. Christ, even my oldest friends had no clue. Just her, and it made me feel vulnerable as fuck. Whenever I became vulnerable or even so much as felt a hint of it, I still went into hedgehog mode. Spikes up, defense activated. But as we gazed together at this scrap of land that held so much prospect and potential, the spikes lowered and my shoulders slackened. I threw an arm around her and sighed. I never wanted to fall in love. Hell, I never thought I was capable of it. But then, she fell into my life. Effortlessly, and it all started with a cigarette and a few words. Suddenly, I found myself falling out of the darkness and tripping into her life too. Here we were, standing in front of where I thought I had lost the love, the potential. Now I knew - anything was possible. Vulnerability was no longer shackles. It was potential.

"Still can't believe you're here?" Sierra whispered.

"It doesn't feel real" I chuckled, bringing her closer to me. It was true. None of it felt real. Perhaps this was a dream. But if it was, I never wanted to wake up from it.

"Well, it's real!" Sierra laughed, moving away and outstretching her arms. "The beach, this little plot of land - it's all here, and so are you, Hargrove. You're home"

Home, what a funny word. A home could be a house, the sun beating down on me or the tides taking me to another world. Some consider their own bodies to be their home, a temple. Maybe it's because its the only stability they had growing us. The blue ocean of San Diego was my home. A never-ending constant. This was the first time my eyes had landed on this home of mine since I'd abandoned it. I knew it wasn't my fault why we moved up here, no matter how many times He tried to drum it into my thick skull. It wasn't Max's either. Susan and He just needed an excuse. Max running away to her old man's was the excuse to get the plans in motion. Me driving my car into a lamppost high and drunk was the nail in the coffin. I remembered as we drove by the ocean, I had to control myself from staring longingly out at it. I never thought I'd be back here. Hell, I'd said a million times I'd get back but I never truly believed it; never believed in myself enough to get here. But, as usual, my girl was right - this was real.

"It's you, it's me, it's us, right?" I murmured, lost in my subconscious. I found myself entwining my fingers with hers, squeezing them. This was definitely real.

"Always, Hargrove"

—-

Feeling the sticky sheen of sweat prickle my forehead wasn't uncommon anymore. I'd fall into a deep sleep, catch the glint of those dark eyes and then wake up drenched. Hell, I was so used to it now that my rapid heartbeat slowed down. Those same eyes haunted my mind on a daily basis. Foolishly, I prayed to fucking God that down here I'd be able to avoid whatever nemesis had decided to attach itself to me. It was probably just some bad memories from the Upside Down leaving their mark. I carried out what had become my ritual upon waking: scour the area for trouble, give my head a good fucking shake and get out of bed. We were in the motel. The sky was still blue. Sierra was fast asleep under the covers, her petite body rising and falling with each breath. Christ, how did they follow me here? At first, I was seriously unnerved. Now, I was beyond pissed. I hadn't told anyone about the dreams. Not a soul. They'd think I was turning nuts. I tilted my head side to side, circling it until my neck let out a satisfying crack. Fuck, I needed that. I peered into the standing mirror, tousling my hair a little as I popped a cigarette into my mouth, biting down on the filter a little too hard. Jesus I was tense. Time to get a bit of fresh sea air. Lazily, I strolled out onto the apartment balcony and leaned against the cool brick wall, instantly cooling down.

There was something about those eyes I'd seen down the tunnels. All these months later, and they were etched into my mind. It didn't matter if I closed them or stared right at the sun, they'd show up at some point. A psychiatrist would probably give me some sort of fucking diagnosis or send me some place. Hence why I said nothing. Just woke up, sweat it out and tried to fucking carry on living my life. Whenever the eyes woke me up, the twin would continue its job. I'd gotten better at dealing with it. Nothing else from what we'd seen had ever invited themselves into my nightmares. Nope, just those fucking eyes. There was one thing that freaked me out though. Whenever I was deep enough, I'd be chained to the bed. Something would be forcing me down and every limb turned into a slab of concrete. The lurking eyes would latch onto mine and that was it. Every time I thought they were going to strike, to finally have the audacity to kill me, I'd wake up. I didn't know what this thing was, but I'd gone from being utterly shit scared to pissed that it wasn't willing to face me head on. Moreover, I was pissed because I wanted a decent night's sleep. Maybe I should let a psychiatrist get their hands on me. Get loaded on drugs and there we have it, a full 8 hours. Before I knew it, the cigarette had burned in my fingers without a single goddamn drag. What a waste. I shrugged my shoulders and flicked the stub over the balcony along with the rest of these negative thoughts. Sierra and I were here to enjoy ourselves, and that's exactly what we were going to do. Fuck everything else. I was home with my girl and no Upside Down shit was going to change it.

With a deep inhale, I hauled myself from the wall and went back into the dimly lit room. A familiar, muffled grunt came from under the bed covers and it was like my mind suddenly found itself not being preoccupied by darkness anymore. I let out a small laugh and walked over to the bed, slightly lifting up the covers to find Sierra curled up in fetal position, her nose doing that cute little twitching thing it does when she finds herself deep in dreams. I decided to leave her to it for a little while more. I needed to grab a shower before we headed down to the beach. All that stifled plane air was clogged in my pores still.

As the steam from the cheap motel showerhead cleansed my skin of any filthy airplane shit, I couldn't help but feel as if there were a residue being left behind. It was like a film of sweat you soak your face the night after heavy drinking. Dirty, sticky, an irritation. I grabbed the sponge Sierra had brought along and started scrubbing frantically at my arms, legs, anywhere the filth infiltrated. To no avail. It lingered. I couldn't fully describe it. Whilst I felt the sensation on my skin, I felt it behind me. As if it were waiting. Just waiting, watching. The eyes burning into the back of my head. The eyes in the tunnel. The brown eyes of the Byers kid. I wanted to crawl out of my body, wanted to rid myself of this stalker and their constant dirt spreading over me. Heart beating wildly, I threw the sponge at the end of the shower. Ignore it. Pretend it isn't there. You are home and you are ruining everything. This isn't how its supposed to be.

"Billy?" The primal beating slowed down. Her soft voice beckoned and everything else responded. I slumped against the peach colored tiles and turned the shower temperature to an icy cold. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah" My gruff voice sounded outside of myself. It was like a TV show. Everything felt so detached yet I was entirely immersed. Her voice would save me. It would bring me back down to where I belonged, where I needed to be.

Sierra came in wearing nothing but an oversized shirt I had gifted to her a few months back. We'd gone for dinner with her grandparents and I'd stayed over the night. She took a liking to sleeping in it, said it felt cozy. From the way her eyebrow quirked upwards, a curiosity stoked, I knew she was about to ask me what was up.

"Come join me" I drawled out in a low voice, smirk pinned on my lips, jumping at the chance to change the subject.

I should have known better. Of course my girl was going to ask questions. She had an internal system that was triggered by even the most subtle of changes. Through heavy lidded eyes cultivated through years of putting on the heavily relied upon mask, I watched as Sierra took off her shirt, allowing my eyes to linger on her petite hourglass figure for a second longer than anticipated, as she joined me under the gentle, tepid waters. I wrapped my arms around her slim frame, feeling the smoothness of her bronzed skin under my touch. I needed to forget, needed to get lost in this haze of pleasure again. The eyes would disappear. My stalker would leave and I would feel like my feet were firmly on the ground again. I leaned down slightly and dragged my lips over Sierra's neck, a sharp exhale liberating itself from my mouth as I heard a gentle moan escape hers. In the mist of panic, the twin had his hands tightened around my throat. I needed to breathe again. This was how I breathed. I breathed in her - her naturally floral scent, the aroma of this wonder we created together in a connection only we knew. I wanted, craved, to feel the ripple of the air leaving my body. I only had to dreamily murmur a few words in her ear. Drink her in, get lost. Feel the eyes diminish. Feel her nails bury themselves in my skin. Let the pain drown. Let the hunger for her take over. See the twin fade away. See her, feel her, feel everything.

"I fucking love you" I moaned out.

And then, I was lost in the haze. No one was watching me. But as we hit out peak, it all dawned on me.

There would always be someone watching me.

And they were never going to leave.

Happy New Year, everyone! Sorry it's been quite some time since an update. I had a bit of writers block and been super busy with various things in my personal life. Thanks to the new followers and favourites though, it's hugely appreciated. I'm going to do a few chapters of Billy and Sierra's time in California (full of drama!) before moving onto Season 3. Hope you all enjoy reading this chapter :)