Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The nightgown’s lace collar was too tight, rubbing against Billy’s throat as he stood by the window. He tugged at it absently, his fingers brushing the embroidered hem that swayed against his calves. The fabric was soft, delicate, everything he wasn’t—but here, what Billy wanted didn’t matter.

“Billy.”

Giorgia’s voice was calm but firm. She stood beside him, her reflection faint in the glass as she adjusted the braid hanging over her shoulder. “You’re slouching again. If Mommy sees, she’ll say something.”

Billy straightened instinctively, jaw tightening. He didn’t reply, didn’t trust himself to, as his eyes fixed on the faint plumes of smoke rising beyond the forest. The war wasn’t distant anymore; it was creeping closer, pressing against the edges of their small world.

“We’ll need to leave soon,” Giorgia said, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.

Billy cast her a sidelong glance. She was always composed, always obedient. It grated on him. “Will Mommy even agree?”

Giorgia met his gaze, her expression neutral. “She’ll do what’s best for Giulia.”

Not for him. Never for him.

He turned back to the window, fists clenched at his sides. In the distance, faint flashes lit up the night sky, each one a reminder of how close they were to the front lines. He wondered what it would feel like—to be free of this house, this family, these rules.

“Billy!”

Mommy’s sharp voice rang out, and Billy flinched. He turned to see her standing in the doorway, her hands on her hips, her mouth set in a firm line. “Stop hovering by the window. Come help Giulia with her things.”

Billy bit the inside of his cheek, swallowing the retort that rose to his lips. “Yes, Mommy,” he said, the words bitter on his tongue.

Mommy’s gaze lingered on him for a moment before she turned to Giulia, who sat cross-legged on the bed, braiding the hair of a porcelain doll. “Come, sweetheart,” Mommy said, her tone softening. “We’ll make sure you have everything you need.”

Billy moved to the bed where Giulia sat, her delicate fingers weaving the doll’s hair into neat plaits. She glanced up at him, her eyes wide and questioning. Billy hesitated, then crouched beside her.

“Is it true?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Are we leaving?”

“Yes, sister,” Billy said, the word foreign and awkward in his mouth. “We’re leaving.”

Giulia’s lips quirked into a small smile, and she leaned in, resting her head against his shoulder for a brief moment.

By dawn, the house was alive with movement. Mommy and Daddy directed everyone with precision, their voices sharp and unyielding as they gave orders.

“Giulia, stay close to me. Giorgia, bring the sewing kit. Billy—” Mommy’s gaze landed on him, and her lips pressed into a thin line. “Go fetch the extra blankets from the linen closet. Hurry.”

“Yes, Mommy,” Billy replied automatically.

He walked down the hall, the scratchy hem of the nightgown swishing around his legs. The linen closet smelled of old fabric and mothballs, and Billy rifled through the shelves until he found the blankets Mommy had demanded.

As he straightened, his reflection caught his eye in the cracked mirror on the wall. He froze.

The person staring back at him wasn’t someone he recognized. His hair fell past his shoulders, soft waves framing a face that was no longer his own. The nightgown he wore hung loosely on his frame, its floral pattern and lace trim a cruel mockery of who he used to be.

Billy swallowed hard, his chest tightening. This wasn’t him. It never would be.

“Billy!” Mommy’s voice rang out, cutting through his thoughts.

He grabbed the blankets and hurried back, his bare feet slapping against the tiles.

The cart rattled over the uneven road, the wheels creaking with every bump. Billy sat in the back, wedged between a suitcase and Giulia, who clung to his arm like a lifeline. Giorgia sat beside them, her hands folded neatly in her lap.

Up front, Mommy and Daddy spoke in low voices, their tone clipped as they discussed their plans. Billy didn’t bother listening. Instead, he stared out at the horizon, his thoughts drifting.

Hawkins.

The word lingered in his mind, heavy and unwelcome. He’d spent years trying to forget that place, to push it out of his memory. But now, the thought of returning felt like a twisted kind of fate.

Would Max even recognize him? Would anyone?

He ran a hand through his hair, wincing as his fingers snagged on a tangle. He didn’t know why the thought of Hawkins clung to him so stubbornly—it wasn’t like he’d left anything good behind.

And yet...

The port was chaos. Families crowded the docks, their voices a cacophony of desperation and fear. Soldiers barked orders, their stern faces adding to the oppressive atmosphere.

Billy stayed close to Giorgia and Giulia, his shoulders tense as they navigated the throng of people. Mommy kept a firm grip on Giulia’s hand, her expression one of barely concealed irritation.

“This way,” Daddy said, leading them toward a waiting ship.

Billy’s stomach churned as he stared at the vessel. The sight of it made his skin crawl—there was something about the way it loomed against the horizon, dark and foreboding, that made him feel like he was walking into a trap.

Giulia tugged at his arm, her small hand slipping into his. He looked down at her, her wide eyes filled with worry.

“Are we going to be safe, sister?” she asked.

Billy hesitated. He wanted to tell her the truth, but instead, he squeezed her hand. “It’s going to be okay,” he said, forcing a small smile.

The words felt like a lie, but Giulia nodded, holding onto them like they were a lifeline.

They boarded the ship in silence, the air thick with tension. The deck was crowded with people clutching their belongings, huddling together as though proximity alone could protect them.

Billy found a spot by the railing, the salty breeze tugging at his hair. He stared out at the water, the horizon stretching endlessly before them.

Hawkins was waiting.

And Billy wasn’t sure if that was something to hope for—or to fear.

Chapter Text

The ocean stretched endlessly before him, a gray, restless expanse under a sky that couldn’t seem to decide if it wanted to rain or clear. Billy leaned against the railing, the metal cold against his palms. He’d been standing there for hours, watching the horizon blur into the mist, anything to avoid the chaos below deck.

Passengers jostled for space on the cramped vessel. Children wailed, their cries blending with the constant groan of the ship’s engine. Mothers whispered frantically to their families, while men clustered in tight groups, their voices low and conspiratorial.

Billy wasn’t sure which was worse: the noise or the glances people gave him when they thought he wasn’t looking.

“Billy.”

The familiar voice made him stiffen. He turned his head slowly to see Daddy standing behind him, his expression unreadable. The man folded his arms, his tailored coat immaculate despite the salt in the air.

“You’ve been up here long enough,” Daddy said, his tone firm but not unkind. “Go below and help Mommy with the luggage. There’s work to be done.”

Billy stared at him for a long moment, the words twisting inside him. He didn’t want to say them—he wanted to bite them back, swallow them, anything but let them out. But the rules were clear.

“Yes, Daddy,” he muttered, his voice low.

The man nodded, as if satisfied, and walked away without another word.

Billy turned back to the sea, gripping the railing so hard his knuckles turned white. “Yes, Daddy,” he whispered again, mocking himself, the bitterness sharp and ugly in his throat.

The air below deck was stifling, thick with the smell of unwashed bodies and saltwater. Billy weaved through the crowd, dodging stray elbows and luggage piled haphazardly in the narrow corridors.

He found Mommy standing near the makeshift sleeping area they’d been assigned, her arms crossed as she surveyed the mess with a look of disdain. She didn’t look up as Billy approached.

“Took you long enough,” she said curtly, pointing to a trunk near the wall. “Take that one to the corner. It’s in the way.”

Billy didn’t respond. He bent down, grabbed the handle of the trunk, and dragged it across the floor. The wood scraped loudly, drawing a few irritated looks from nearby passengers.

“Quieter, Billy,” Mommy hissed, her eyes flashing.

“Yes, Mommy,” he said, his voice flat.

She gave him a hard look, as if she could sense the edge in his tone, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she turned and busied herself with sorting through their things, her movements quick and precise.

Billy stepped back, leaning against the wall as she worked. He watched her for a moment, a knot of resentment tightening in his chest. She moved with purpose, every action deliberate, as though she could will the world into order by sheer force.

It was the same way she’d handled him—cutting his hair when it grew too wild, then letting it grow too long when she decided it “suited a sister better.” Forcing him into dresses, nightgowns, roles he didn’t choose, until the person he was became a stranger even to himself.

“Don’t just stand there,” she snapped, without looking up. “Find something useful to do.”

Billy pushed off the wall, his jaw clenched. “Yes, Mommy,” he said, the words like ash in his mouth.

Later, when the noise below deck became unbearable, Billy slipped back up to the open air.

The deck was quieter now, the crowd thinning as the sun began its slow descent into the sea. The light was softer, golden and warm, casting long shadows across the ship. Billy found a spot near the railing, far enough from the others to feel like he could breathe.

He tilted his head back, letting the breeze brush against his face. It carried the tang of salt, sharp and clean, and for a moment he let himself forget where he was, who he was.

“Not much for company, are you?”

The voice startled him, and Billy turned quickly to see a man leaning against the railing a few feet away. He was older, maybe in his late forties, with a weathered face and a cigarette dangling from his lips.

Billy didn’t respond, his gaze narrowing as he studied the stranger.

The man chuckled softly, taking a drag from his cigarette. “Relax, kid. Just making conversation.”

Billy turned back to the sea, his shoulders tense. “I’m not a kid.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” the man said, exhaling a plume of smoke. He paused, his eyes drifting over Billy. “You’ve got that look about you. Like you’re running from something.”

Billy’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t reply.

The man chuckled again, low and rough. “Don’t worry. Most people on this ship are running from something. War’ll do that to you.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and undeniable. Billy glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, wondering if the man saw more than he let on.

“I’m not running,” Billy said finally, the lie bitter on his tongue.

“Sure you’re not,” the man said, his tone light but knowing. He flicked the cigarette over the railing, watching as it disappeared into the waves. “Good luck, kid.”

He turned and walked away, leaving Billy alone with the sound of the ocean.

That night, the storm came.

It started as a low rumble in the distance, a sound that made the passengers below deck pause and glance at each other nervously. The first crack of thunder followed soon after, loud enough to rattle the walls.

Billy was still on the deck when the rain began, a cold, stinging drizzle that quickly turned into a downpour. The ship lurched beneath his feet, the waves growing more violent with each passing moment.

“Billy!”

He turned to see Daddy standing near the doorway to the cabins, his face pale and tight with worry. “Get inside, now!”

Billy hesitated, the rain plastering his hair to his face. The wind howled around him, tugging at his nightgown, and for a brief, reckless moment, he considered staying where he was. Letting the storm swallow him whole.

But then he saw the look in Daddy’s eyes—a mixture of fear and frustration—and he turned, trudging through the rain toward the cabin.

Inside, the noise was deafening. Passengers clung to each other as the ship rocked violently, their voices rising in panicked cries. Mommy was huddled with Giulia, her arms wrapped tightly around the girl, while Giorgia sat nearby, her face pale but composed.

Billy stood near the doorway, water pooling at his feet as he stared at the chaos around him. The storm raged outside, a relentless force that made the walls groan and the floor shudder.

For the first time in a long time, Billy felt small.

Chapter Text

Billy stood near the doorway, water pooling at his feet as he stared at the chaos around him. The storm raged outside, a relentless force that made the walls groan and the floor shudder.

For the first time in a long time, Billy felt small.

The ship jolted violently, nearly knocking him off balance. Around him, passengers shouted, their voices shrill with panic. Water poured in through the cracks around the sealed doors, soaking the floor and rising inch by inch.

A child’s wail cut through the noise, and Billy turned toward the sound. A woman crouched near the far wall, her arms wrapped tightly around two small children. One of them clung to her neck, sobbing into her shoulder, while the other stared blankly at the growing puddle around their feet.

“Stay close!” the woman whispered urgently, her words drowned out by another deafening crash.

The ship lurched again, and Billy’s stomach twisted. The air was thick with the tang of saltwater and the acrid bite of fear. He gripped the doorframe tighter, his nails digging into the wood.

“Billy!”

Mommy’s voice pierced through the chaos, sharp and commanding. She was crouched beside Giulia, one arm braced against the wall for support. Giorgia sat on her other side, clutching a suitcase to her chest.

“Get over here!” Mommy shouted, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Billy hesitated. Every instinct screamed at him to obey, to fall in line, but his legs felt heavy, rooted to the spot. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think past the roar of the storm and the feeling of the ship tilting beneath him like it was about to tip over.

Another wave slammed against the hull, and the lights flickered above. A fresh round of screams filled the cabin as people clung to each other, their faces pale and stricken.

“Billy!” Mommy’s voice was closer now, filled with both anger and something else—something that almost sounded like fear. “Move!”

His feet finally obeyed. He stumbled forward, his steps splashing through the rising water, and dropped to his knees beside her.

“You’re useless sometimes, you know that?” Mommy hissed, her hands tightening around Giulia’s shoulders. “Stay here. Don’t move.”

Billy didn’t respond. He stared down at the floor, his breath shallow as he tried to block out the sound of the storm.

Minutes felt like hours. The cabin was hot and suffocating despite the cold water pooling around their ankles. Billy’s head throbbed with the rhythm of the waves, each tilt and lurch of the ship sending fresh nausea rolling through him.

A man near the far corner shouted something, his voice desperate and pleading, but the words were lost in the cacophony. Passengers scrambled for higher ground as the water continued to rise, their movements frantic.

“We need to get above deck,” Daddy said suddenly, his voice cutting through the noise.

Mommy shot him a sharp look. “Are you insane? It’s worse up there!”

“And what happens when this place floods?” Daddy countered, his tone steely. “We’ll drown like rats in a cage.”

Mommy’s lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes darting to the water creeping higher around them.

“We’re leaving,” Daddy said firmly, rising to his feet. He grabbed Billy’s arm and hauled him upright. “Stay with me.”

Billy staggered, his legs shaking as Daddy pushed him toward the narrow staircase leading to the upper deck. Mommy followed reluctantly, dragging Giulia and Giorgia behind her.

The storm hit like a living thing.

Rain lashed against Billy’s skin, cold and stinging, as they emerged onto the deck. The wind howled, ripping at his hair and clothes, and the waves towered around the ship, crashing against its sides with a force that made the whole structure shudder.

Billy clung to the railing, his heart pounding in his chest. Lightning split the sky, illuminating the chaos around him—crew members shouting orders, passengers clutching at anything solid as the ship tilted dangerously to one side.

“This way!” Daddy shouted, his voice barely audible over the roar of the storm.

Billy tried to follow, but his feet slipped on the slick deck. He fell hard, the impact jarring his knees and sending a fresh jolt of pain through his already aching body.

“Get up!” Daddy snapped, grabbing his arm and pulling him upright.

Billy stumbled forward, his vision blurred by rain and saltwater. The cold was seeping into his bones now, making every movement a struggle.

Then the ship pitched violently, and Billy lost his footing again.

The world spun as he hit the deck, the force of the fall knocking the breath from his lungs. He rolled onto his back, gasping for air as water poured over him in a relentless torrent.

“Billy!” Daddy’s voice was distant, muffled beneath the roar of the storm.

Billy blinked up at the sky, rain blurring his vision. His head throbbed, and his arms felt like lead as he tried to push himself up.

Then the wave came.

It slammed into the ship with a deafening crash, the force of it sweeping across the deck like a tidal surge. Billy barely had time to register the wall of water before it hit him, knocking him backward and slamming his body against the railing.

Pain exploded through his side, sharp and blinding, as his fingers scrabbled for purchase. The metal was slick with rain, and for a terrifying moment, he felt himself slipping.

“No!”

Strong hands closed around his arm, yanking him back from the edge. Billy collapsed against the deck, coughing and choking on seawater as his rescuer hauled him to his feet.

“Get below deck!” the man barked, his grip firm and unyielding. “You’ll get yourself killed out here!”

Billy could barely nod, his body trembling as he stumbled toward the cabin entrance.

By the time they reached the relative safety of the lower deck, Billy was barely conscious. His head lolled against Daddy’s shoulder as the man carried him inside, his arms trembling from the effort.

Mommy’s scream was the first thing Billy heard when they entered.

“What happened?” she demanded, rushing forward. Her hands flew to Billy’s face, gripping his cheeks tightly as she stared into his half-closed eyes. “What did you do to him?”

“He slipped,” Daddy said shortly, his tone clipped. “He’s fine. Just needs to rest.”

“Rest?” Mommy’s voice rose, shrill and panicked. “He’s bleeding!”

Billy flinched as her fingers brushed the back of his head, probing the cut hidden beneath his soaked hair. The pain flared sharply, pulling a low groan from his throat.

“Lay him down,” Mommy ordered, her voice trembling. “Now.”

Daddy complied, lowering Billy onto one of the makeshift beds lining the cabin wall. A woman nearby handed over a blanket, her face pale as she watched the scene unfold.

“Is he all right?” the woman asked softly.

Mommy didn’t answer. She was too busy pressing a cloth to the back of Billy’s head, her hands shaking as she tried to stop the bleeding.

Billy stared up at the ceiling, his vision swimming. He could hear the passengers whispering around him, their voices a low hum of concern and morbid curiosity.

“Poor thing...”

“He’s so pale.”

“Will he be okay?”

Mommy’s hands faltered for a moment, and she looked down at Billy with an expression he couldn’t quite read.

“You’re an idiot,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the din. “You could’ve died. Do you have any idea what that would’ve done to us?”

Billy’s lips twitched, a bitter smile threatening to break through. Even now, it wasn’t about him. It never was.

The ship groaned beneath them, and the storm raged on.

Chapter Text

The storm had passed, but its echoes lingered.

Billy stirred, his body sluggish and uncooperative as his senses slowly returned. The first thing he noticed was the ache in his ribs, a deep, insistent throb that made it hard to breathe. His head pounded in rhythm with his heartbeat, and every muscle felt like it had been stretched too far and then let go.

He opened his eyes to dim light. The cabin was quiet now, save for the occasional groan of the ship as it rocked gently on calmer waters. The storm’s fury was gone, but its damage was everywhere: puddles of seawater pooled on the floor, belongings were scattered, and the air was heavy with exhaustion.

Billy’s head lolled to the side, and he saw Mommy sitting nearby, her arms crossed and her gaze fixed on him. Her face was pale, drawn tight with lines of worry and irritation.

“You’re awake,” she said curtly.

Billy tried to sit up, but the pain in his side flared, and he sank back with a hiss of breath.

“Don’t move too much,” Mommy snapped, rising from her chair. She hovered over him, her hands twitching as though she couldn’t decide whether to fuss over him or berate him. “You’ve been out for hours.”

Billy swallowed, his throat dry. “What happened?”

Mommy’s lips thinned. “You nearly got yourself killed, that’s what happened. If Daddy hadn’t been there—” She cut herself off, shaking her head sharply.

Billy blinked up at her, his vision still slightly blurry. He remembered the storm, the rain and wind tearing at him, the wave dragging him toward the edge. And Daddy—Daddy pulling him back.

He closed his eyes, the memory leaving a strange taste in his mouth.

“You’re lucky,” Mommy continued, her tone colder now. “Lucky that people are too busy worrying about their own problems to care about yours.”

Billy didn’t respond. He turned his head away, staring at the wall instead.

The ship’s deck was eerily quiet when Billy finally ventured outside.

The sky was clear, the sun climbing slowly into a pale blue expanse. It should have felt like a relief, but the damage left behind by the storm told a different story.

The railing was bent in places, splintered wood and tangled ropes scattered across the deck. A few crew members worked tirelessly to patch things up, their faces lined with exhaustion.

Passengers milled about in small groups, their voices hushed as they exchanged stories of the night before.

Billy shuffled to the railing, wincing with each step. His ribs protested every movement, but he didn’t stop until he could lean against the metal bar and let the breeze cool his face.

“Rough night, wasn’t it?”

Billy turned his head slowly. The man from before—the one who’d been smoking near the railing—stood a few feet away, his hands in his pockets.

“I guess you could say that,” Billy muttered.

The man gave a low chuckle, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re lucky, kid. A lot of folks wouldn’t have made it through something like that.”

Billy didn’t reply. He stared out at the water instead, his thoughts drifting.

Lucky. That’s what everyone kept saying. But it didn’t feel like luck.

The man tilted his head, studying him. “You got family with you?”

Billy stiffened. “Yeah.”

The man raised an eyebrow but didn’t press. He leaned against the railing, his gaze distant. “Storm like that—it strips everything away, you know? Leaves you with nothing but yourself.”

Billy frowned. He wasn’t sure if the man was talking to him or just thinking out loud, but the words settled in his chest like stones.

“Anyway,” the man said, pushing off the railing, “take care of yourself, kid.” He walked away, leaving Billy alone with the breeze and the sound of the waves.

Back in the cabin, tension simmered like a pot about to boil over.

Billy had barely stepped through the door when he heard Mommy and Daddy’s voices, low and heated.

“We can’t keep doing this,” Mommy hissed, her words clipped. “This trip has already pushed us too far. And now Billy—”

“Billy’s fine,” Daddy interrupted. “He’s alive, isn’t he?”

“Barely!” Mommy snapped. “And what happens next time? What happens when he does something stupid again and we’re not there to fix it?”

Billy lingered near the doorway, his stomach twisting. He knew he shouldn’t listen, but their words held him in place like chains.

“You’ve always coddled him,” Mommy continued, her voice rising. “He doesn’t belong with us, and you know it. He never has.”

“That’s enough,” Daddy said sharply.

Mommy didn’t respond, but the silence that followed was louder than any argument.

Billy stepped back into the corridor, his hands curling into fists.

The next few days passed in a haze.

The ship limped forward, its progress slow but steady. The passengers settled into uneasy routines, their laughter and chatter subdued by the memory of the storm.

Billy avoided his family as much as he could. He spent most of his time on the deck, staring out at the endless expanse of water. The man from before was there sometimes, smoking another cigarette or leaning against the railing, but he didn’t speak to Billy again.

At night, the ship creaked and groaned, and Billy lay awake, listening to the sounds of the sea.

His ribs ached, his head throbbed, and his thoughts churned like the storm that had nearly claimed him.

He thought of Hawkins, of Max, of the life he’d left behind. He thought of the family that had never wanted him and the one that didn’t know what to do with him now.

And for the first time, he wondered if he’d ever find a place where he truly belonged.