HYPNOTIC, VOL I!

PROLOGUE, "LET'S MAKE A DEAL"

There's no mystery to how it all happened – the events that led her to where she is today, stumbling through something called the Upside Down, coughing up the phlegm she'd inhaled while biking for eight fucking miles — (but that's, like, totally besides the point right now — she'll complain about this later).

It happened in May of 1985, but if anyone asks, it's all a lie...Violet Sheridan did not fake-date Billy Hargrove to make someone else jealous. That's absurd! She would never! But yet, she'll admit that if she never got involved with Billy, she would never be in her current situation. She would've just told everyone to fuck off and leave her alone, probably slamming the door in her face when they asked for help.

Anyway, to be fair, in May of 1985 Violet admitted it wasn't a good idea to throw a party while her parents were away for the weekend. But to be fair, she was really excited to celebrate graduating and being accepted into a top school with a scholarship, so when her friend Tandy invited a couple people over to Violet's, she should've expected the entire graduating class of 1985 to show up at her front door with a bunch of alcohol.

Because, really, that's what they did.

And Steve Harrington led the string of former Hawkins High students, the top of his white shirt slightly unbuttoned, the sleeves rolled messily up to his elbows. Violet's heart did a little leap in her chest when she saw him, but all he did was press a drunk kiss to her cheek and walk past her and into her house, the hoard of students following closely behind, all still wearing their formal attire from graduation earlier in the day. It was a knife to the heart, really – the way he barely acknowledged her. She thought back to Halloween, when she'd felt the shift in their friendship because of her drunken mistakes.

Her fingers played with the bottom of her white dress as she greeted the students she grew up with at her front door. She hadn't spoken to many of them in quite some time. Typically, she stuck with her closest friends and didn't branch out too much — it was really just Steve, Tandy, and some other cross country runners. (To this, Tandy would often say, "You're a jock, Violet. You could rule the school if you really wanted, so why don't you?" and Violet would always roll her eyes with a "Because it's too much work to be that popular.")

And then she saw Tandy at her door, a nervous smile plastered across her pretty face. Her light blue dress swished with her steps through the front door, and she pointed a single finger in Violet's direction. "Don't be mad."

"I'm not mad," Violet had replied. And she wasn't. She's glad she was able to get together with everyone, celebrating something they've all been talking about for years. It was better than her sitting at home alone for the weekend.

"I just – you're our captain!" Tandy continued. "The team needs to see that you aren't always so stuck up and that you're super fun and –"

"I get it," Violet said. "And...I was your captain. Not anymore."

"You'll always be our captain," she said with a grin, placing her soft hand on Violet's upper arm. And then, she turned her head over her shoulder. "Right team?"

Behind Tandy stood the now-graduated seniors of the cross country team, the ones she spent the past two years being the captain of, leading to many victories and school records. They cheered loudly, raising boxes of beer and bottles of vodka above their heads before they glided past Violet, each greeting her individually.

It made her heart swell. Because of the early morning miles paired with the after-school practices, Violet was sure she'd made herself their number one enemy. Despite this, they all seemed to like her; they seemed to appreciate her.

"Vi, go get yourself a drink! You don't need to greet everyone that comes in the door," Tandy pointed out, grabbing Violet's hand and leaving the front door wide open, dragging her down the hallway towards the kitchen.

"There she is!" Steve shouted over the ringing noise in the house, and her heart started to beat a little differently at the sight of him. Violet's house has two floors, and she was sure both of them were now completely occupied with soon-to-be-drunk graduates. Steve raised a red solo cup, his face flushed from the alcohol he'd undoubtedly been drinking for the past few hours. "Our gracious host! Vi, come here!"

Weaving her way through the crowded kitchen, she'd finally found an opening in front of Steve – her best friend, her warmth, her familiarity, her comfort, the love of her fucking life... "Hi," she'd said.

"Hi, you," he greeted with a grin.

You.

She didn't know what about the greeting made her flutter, but it felt like there were butterflies swarming her insides, hitting each wall and bringing a warmth to her cheeks. She was positive her face had noticeably flushed, but she'd hoped it just looked like she had too much to drink even though she hadn't consumed anything yet.

"This party is all for you," he'd said.

"What?" she'd asked with a furred brow.

"You, Vi...Team captain...Record holder at Hawkins High...Graduate..."

"We're all graduates. I'm not that special."

"Bullshit," Steve said. "You're amazing."

She couldn't reply to that because what was she supposed to say? Her fingers played with the lower part of her dress again. It was a little white dress her mom had bought her, with spaghetti straps at the top and a little puff at the waist. It was her favorite dress.

"You look amazing," Steve added.

Key word: Was her favorite dress.

"Thank you," she'd said. She felt a little like she was suffocating, like there was something wrapped around her neck even though it was completely bare. She wrapped her hand around the neck of a nearby vodka bottle, sliding it off the counter with a step back. "I'll see you later, Steve."

"Yeah, see you later," he'd said, but he was no longer paying attention to her. Instead, he was laughing at something his friend said across the room, throwing his head back in fucking beautiful laughter.

Gripping the bottle in her left hand, Violet pushed through the sweaty bodies, ducking under arms and swerving around the walls until she found the bathroom. Pushing herself inside, she closed the door behind her. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly, air failing to appropriately enter her lungs.

"Come on, Violet," she'd muttered to herself, tapping her right hand on the counter. Voices echoed in the hallway outside the door, and she sucked in a breath, looking at herself in the mirror hanging before her. Her curls were splayed over her shoulders, her bangs neatly framing her face, and she'd tried this new glitter eyeshadow that just came out recently – she'd thought it made her eyes look nice, but now...She hated it. She heard this saying one time — that most people consider their faces 'home' because it's the most recognizable to them when looking in a mirror. When looking at herself in the mirror, Violet doesn't even see herself. Violet doesn't do her hair. Violet doesn't wear eye shadow. Violet doesn't dress up. This — this wasn't home. She didn't even look like Violet Sheridan.

She looked like a shell of herself — making herself something different for some stupid guy.

On the outside, though, she looked just like pretty and perfect Violet Sheridan – popular captain of the cross country team at Hawkins High. She was a girl most guys fawned over in complete desperation but never made a move in fear of a rejection (or a lash out from Steve, who didn't let high school guys talk to her unless he really thought they were worthy of her attention. He blamed it on the fact that he knew what high school guys were like). And all of that sounded great in theory, but that's not how she felt right now. She didn't feel like pretty and perfect Violet Sheridan.

Unscrewing the cap of the vodka, she tilted her head back and took a gulp. It burned down her throat, making her wince at the bitter taste. It almost came right back up, but she forced it back down.

And she did this a few times, until she wasn't really...present anymore. She was there, of course, but not really. She'd slid herself into the bathtub, the bottle hanging over the edge, dangling from her hand. She swung it lightly back and forth.

She thought Steve had taken the best part of herself – of her heart – and left the rest in pieces at their feet. He did it without thinking – without knowing. And she can't blame him for it.

She'd remembered what started it – the deep, hollow feeling in her chest.

It was the Halloween of her senior year. She'd dressed up as one of those stupid yoga instructors from the classes her mom took, wearing bright pink leggings and a blue leotard. Her hair was pulled into a tight ponytail with her bangs framing her face like always. She'd run out of time to do her makeup before Tandy had honked her horn repeatedly outside, so she was only wearing mascara that day.

And she was drunk at this Halloween party (of course). She'd watched Steve and his then-girlfriend Nancy dance for over an hour before Tandy found her and forced water down her throat. It didn't really work, and Violet was still very much drunk, but it didn't matter. She'd pulled herself from Tandy's grip, begging for some fresh air before sliding open the backdoor and stepping into the cold air.

And Steve sat on the balcony railing with a beer, but she wasn't really sure if it was real. Her head was spinning, and there were multiples of him. She remembered climbing over the railing, dangling her legs off the side and wobbling on the wood. She grabbed Steve's shoulder for some balance. "H – hi, you."

You.

It was their thing.

"You're going to hurt yourself," he'd said without looking at her. He'd finished his previous beer, crinkled the can, tossed it behind him, and grabbed another can from beside him. She thought he must've just brought a whole six pack out with him.

"I like to think I'm pretty agile," she slurred, blinking rapidly to clear the blurriness.

"You're drunk. You're going to fall."

She grinned and then giggled drunkenly. "Then maybe you can catch me."

And then it was kind of silent for a moment before she saw the look on his face. Dark...Sad...And she'd asked, "What's wrong?"

He paused. "...Nancy dumped me."

Violet had suddenly sobered up a little bit, but her head was still spinning, a bowling ball rolling around inside of it. "What? Why? Are you OK?"

Steve took a moment to say something. Either because he was thinking or because he needed to down another beer before opening his mouth to offer an explanation. Another can crinkled, and then she'd heard the crack of another one opening. "She said our relationship was bullshit – that I'm bullshit."

And Violet didn't even think before saying, "You're not bullshit."

And Steve only shrugged. "Maybe I am."

"You're not."

Then, his head dropped, and his fingers traced the top of the can. "She also said — actually, forget it."

"...What?"

Then, Steve sighed. "She thinks we have feelings for each other. Like, that we like each other as more than friends. Which is crazy —"

And Violet didn't hesitate. The words fell from her mouth before she could think of the consequences. "But I do."

Steve's head snapped to look at her, eyes wide. "What?"

She had bit her lip, pulling her brows together. She really felt like she might vomit. She wished she didn't say anything...it's not like she had any control over what she was saying at the time. The alcohol had flipped her filter off in her brain. Shit was just spewing out without an actual thought. Sober Violet would never have done that. "— like you...as more than a friend..."

He shook his head, eyes full of disbelief. "No, you don't."

"I wouldn't lie to you about that."

Then, he paused. She could see the gears in his head running, digging through every possible scenario – every memory, every word, everything they'd ever shared. "How long?"

She didn't think she should be honest about it. Like, truly. She thought it would make the whole situation worse. And yet — "About a year..."

And then he ran his hands through his hair and sighed. He finished another can, crinkling it and tossing it onto the deck over his shoulder. She'd assumed he must've been plastered by that point. "Jesus, Violet."

Her heart cracked at that moment, begging him to take even a single piece of it to hold warmly against his chest. Just to let him be near her somehow. His eyes held so many questions, like he didn't know what to do or what to say. That was all the answer she really needed in that moment. "Is it so bad – me having feelings for you?"

And all he had said was, "You're my best friend."

Biting her lip, she'd nodded curtly. "So you don't have feelings for me. Understood."

And then she heard a sigh...she thought. Her mind got really fuzzy, and she didn't know what happened after she felt her heart shatter inside her chest. "It's not that. It's just...I just got out of a relationship and I — I don't know. I'm really confused."

Her head was spinning, and she hiccuped from the amount of alcohol she'd consumed. Nodding, she muttered, "You do. You know. And you don't feel anything like that for me. I get it."

"Vi —"

And then she'd twisted around on the banister to try to somehow get away, feeling her body sway the opposite direction. She paused for a moment to regain her balance. There was warmth on her arm as Steve grabbed it to hold her steady; it spread through her body, and she suddenly desired the cold.

She ripped her arm out of his, and walked back inside. She didn't remember the rest of the night. She supposed she blacked out.

She didn't know why, but when Steve tried to talk to her about it a few days later, she'd pretended like she was too drunk to remember.

But, really, she would never forget what it felt like to have her heart shatter in an instant. To have someone she cared for so deeply hold the pieces in the palm of his hand. To feel it all crumble down all those months ago —

There was a heavy knock at the bathroom door as the bottle was once again tilted against her lips, allowing the liquid to burn down her throat. Shit, she'd mentally cursed. It felt like one of those moments where time would freeze and a record would scratch loudly. It pulled her out of the memory.

"Occupied!" she called with a hiccup.

There was another pound on the door after that, and she shifted in the tub, ready to call back out, curse whoever it was for being so impatient. Surely it couldn't have been so loud out there that the person on the other side couldn't hear her. She had slid in the tub, the vodka nearly spilling as she did so. Fuck. Was the room spinning? Or was she spinning?

Then, the door opened abruptly, and Billy Hargrove was standing on the other side. He paused when he saw her, but closed the door behind him nonetheless. She hiccuped again, too inebriated to come up with some sort of snarky comment. He chuckled.

Fucking chuckled.

She wanted to punch him.

She resituated herself, pulling herself into a sitting position and putting the bottle between her now crossed legs. "The bathroom is in use," she'd slurred out. "Occupied."

"I have to piss," he'd said. "You've been in here for an hour."

"There's a — a bathroom upstairs."

"Someone's fucking in it," Billy stated.

With a groan, Violet had set her forehead against the side of the bathtub. Of course she would have to clean something like that up. It was like karma for the whole night happening. With her eyes closed, she saw Steve smile and then she saw a bunch of fucking stars in his eyes and – "Fuck. Whatever. Just piss. I don't care."

She pulled the curtain closed, and put the bottle back to her lips.

"You should probably stop drinking that shit," Billy said. She'd started to ignore him because she could literally hear him emptying his bladder, and that's not really something she often liked her hear (or ever liked to hear). She thought she could actually see birds spinning around her head for a moment, like the alcohol was finally hitting her and sending her off the deep end. She remembered Steve telling her once that Billy had teased Steve — saying he had the hottest girl at the school but she was nothing more than his friend. Little did Billy know. Then, she heard the toilet flush and the curtain fly back open. Billy didn't leave. "Why are you in there?"

Violet shrugged with another hiccup.

"Ah," Billy said. "Probably the same reason I'm hiding in here, huh?"

Pulling her brows together, Violet hugged the open bottle closer to her chest. She looked up at Billy, who was wearing a leather jacket and jeans – she definitely remembered him wearing that exact outfit at graduation. He was the only one that wore actual jeans. "Why are you hiding?"

"Tandy," he said. "She won't leave me alone."

"Oh, your life must be so hard," Violet mumbled, wrapping her hand around the neck of the bottle to lift it back to her lips. Before she could feel the burn in her throat, the bottle was taken from her hand and set on the counter. "Hey!"

"I think you've had enough," Billy said, setting the half empty bottle on the counter of the bathroom.

"Fuck you," she'd said.

"Seriously," he said, leaning against the counter. He crossed his arms over his chest. She didn't know why he was still in the bathroom talking to her. They'd never shared more than a few short conversations before. "Why are you hiding in here?"

Her heart thumped rapidly against her chest, taking the air right from her lungs. He must've noticed the look on her face.

"I see," Billy said instead. He was grinning, and it felt like he was mocking her. "It's Harrington."

"Wh – what?"

"You've been eying him all night. Anyone actually paying any fucking attention can see it."

Violet huffed but felt her heart fall a little. "You don't know anything about me."

Then, Billy laughed. Again. He must've thought she was some world class fucking joke to be in love with Steve. "No? You don't have a crush on Harrington? Beats me, then."

"What do you want, Billy? Surely, you're not just talking to — to me to hide from Tandy." And then she'd hiccuped again. This time, she swore she felt bile rise in her throat, but nothing came out. Her hand clamped over her mouth.

"Shit, Violet," he said. "You're a fucking mess." He turned around, grabbing the empty cup from the counter – the one her family used to rinse their mouths or get a glass of water in the middle of the night. Her room was the only one on the lower level, so it was typically just her that used the cup. He filled it with water, handing it to her before crossing his arms over his chest again. "He's got you fucked up, huh?"

She drank the water he'd handed her, gulping it down quickly and setting the glass on the side of the tub. It missed, tumbling to the ground and bouncing back towards Billy's feet. She was thankful it was plastic. "Fuck off."

He grabbed the vodka bottle and took a large swig from it. Some dribbled down his chin, but he used the back of his hand to wipe it off. With another chuckle, he held out a hand for her. "Let's go."

Eying it, she squinted accusingly. "What?"

"Take my hand. Let's go."

She didn't have it in her to argue, so she grabbed his hand and let him pull her out of the tub. She'd wobbled on her feet for a moment before finally finding her balance. She wasn't as drunk as she thought she'd been; perhaps it was the way she was sprawled in the tub. The room always spun a lot worse when she was laying down. Billy looked at her then, swiping his thumbs under her eyes where tears must've fallen and smudged her makeup before saying, "There. All better."

Then, he tugged at her hand again. "What are you doing?"

"Just fucking follow me," he'd grumbled.

And typically, under totally normal circumstances, she would never follow Billy Hargrove. But at that time, she couldn't be bothered to fight with him – to pull her hand back and argue with his intentions. With his hand in hers, he opened the bathroom door and pulled her out of the bathroom, leading her down the empty hallway. Around them, others looked at the pair with raised brows, like they'd assumed she'd fucked Billy in the bathroom of all places.

She would never.

"Where are we going?" she'd asked when they reached the busy hallway between the front door and the kitchen. People were still arriving, filing through the hallway in crowds.

Then, Billy turned, and he placed one hand by the side of her head, pressing her back against the wall when a particularly large crowd shoved through. Her breath hitched at the proximity of them, his breath fanning her face. He smelled like beer and cigarettes – the complete opposite of what Steve smelled like. Then, he tilted his head, leaning closer to her.

"What are you doing?" she whispered.

"Tandy's watching," he said. "This'll make her leave me the fuck alone."

"She's my friend," Violet pointed out with furred brows.

"And she'll get over it," Billy said, and suddenly his breath was by her ear, his hand falling on her opposite hip. "Just go with it."

"Why?"

She felt Billy let out an airy laugh. "Find your boyfriend. Guarantee he's watching. Guarantee he's jealous."

She knew he meant Steve, and without questioning him, she scanned the room over his shoulder, and sure enough, Steve Harrington stood in the kitchen still, a beer pressed against his lips as his eyes watched her and Billy. Her breath hitched as Steve's eyes darkened considerably. Despite the distance between them, she knew this was stirring something in Steve.

Good.

"Ah, I was right," Billy whispered, and this time his breath was right against her neck, and it sent a chill down her spine. "He's watching. They both are."

"Y – yeah."

Then, Billy pulled his head back, his breath now fanning her face. There was humor dancing in his eyes, something that told her playing along would be so worth it.

"You trust me?" he asked.

"Not really," she'd said, but she didn't stop him when he'd started to move closer. His hand that wasn't leaning against the wall grabbed her jaw delicately, pulling her nearer. And she obliged, happily accepting the warmth of Billy's lips before she began to overthink it. Her hands landed on the sides of his face, and he pushed her farther into the wall, rocking his body against hers.

It wasn't what she expected, but she didn't exactly hate it. Billy felt good – he's a good kisser. It made her feel needed, like someone was actually attracted to her — like she wasn't being put in second place to someone else.

When she let out a soft sound, Billy pulled away, keeping his face close to hers, and he grabbed her chin between his thumb and forefinger so she'd look up at him. His thumb ran over her lower lip. "Bet that did it."

She was out of breath when she asked, "Did what?"

And then he winked. "Made your boy jealous."

That statement had made Violet's heart beat a little faster, sending a nervous swirl through her body at the idea of Steve Harrington being jealous about her kissing a guy.

For the next three weeks, Billy had shown up at her new job over lunch, deciding to pull some elaborate scheme to make both Tandy and Steve annoyed for different reasons. Supposedly, their make out session in the middle of the crowded hallway didn't do enough to sway Tandy in another direction.

On the first week, Steve had asked her: "Are you seeing Billy Hargrove?" to which she responded, "I don't know what you're talking about."

And on the second week, Steve was fuming when she showed up to lunch with messy hair, saying, "You look like you've been busy." (Billy had visited her at work and annoyingly tossled her hair before pressing a short kiss on her lips in front of Steve). This time, Violet replied, "Sorry I'm late."

And on the third week, Billy told her Steve had asked about them with a smirk on his face. His words exactly: "Harrington asked what was going on...if we were, like, fucking seeing each other..."

Violet had struggled to breathe, and asked, "What did you say?"

Billy gave her a cocky grin. "I told him to mind his damn business. My girl isn't his fucking problem."

Violet exhaled deeply. "Your girl?"

And Billy shrugged in his leather jacket, his eyes bright with mischief. "It's kept Tandy off my damn back. And your boy is jealous. Fucking with him is kind of...thrilling. And it's kind of hot – playing this game."

"Hot?"

"The whole no strings attached thing. It's hot," Billy said. "And...Harrington is exactly where you want him."

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you get yourself into a horrible situation that you play into to make the love of your life jealous.

Spoiler alert: It totally works (but that doesn't mean Violet recommends it).

AUTHOR'S NOTE: screaming I'm obsessed with all of them

🫀just to note: there are 3 different timeframes mentioned in this chapter, so if it confused you at all: the first couple paragraphs are at the end of season 4, but violet jumps back to talk about the moments that led her there. one of them is October 1984 at the Halloween party in season 2 where she confessed her feelings to Steve, and the rest is may 1985 just after their graduation. if this is at all confusing, pls lmk and I can help clear it up!

🫀billy isn't doing this just for shits and giggles (because why would billy tie himself down to one person knowing how much he likes to sleep around?). he's doing it because tandy literally wouldn't leave him alone (and this will come up more), and it just happened to benefit Violet also.

🫀Billy had me feeling some type of way while writing this sorry, I don't apologize for my actions

🫀 @ Steve Harrington, ur an idiot for not loving violet, she's hot!!1!1!1!

Anyway, let me know what you thought!!!! I'm very excited to write this!! Remember, there are sexual situations and dark themes throughout this book so be advised!!