Billy Hargrove slumped back against the stiff wooden pew, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, a scowl permanently etched onto his face. The dim, flickering candlelight cast long shadows across the high ceiling of Hawkins’ only church, the stained-glass windows glowing with an otherworldly hue as the sermon dragged on. He wasn’t listening—hell, he had no interest in whatever sanctimonious garbage Pastor Samvel was spewing. His father thought shoving him in a church pew would somehow “fix” him. Like he was broken. Like there was something wrong with him just because he liked to fuck around with guys just as much as girls.

That little shit Max walked in on him nailing a guy and snitched on his ass.

Neil’s bullshit had long since stopped affecting him the way it used to, but the punishment still pissed him off. What was sitting in a church supposed to do? Make him see the light? Make him repent? Billy Hargrove didn’t repent for shit.

He was about to completely zone out when something—or rather, someone—caught his attention.

Across the room, standing near the pulpit, was a boy. Sharp jawline, tousled hair, piercing eyes that didn't seem to belong here. He wasn’t dressed like the other churchgoers—no stiff collars or neatly pressed slacks. Just a plain black button-up, sleeves rolled up, the first few buttons undone. Casual, yet annoyingly pristine. The contrast was striking.

Billy knew that face. He’d seen him before, quiet, always keeping to himself at school. Samvel. Pastor Samvel’s son.

Billy smirked, sitting up a little straighter. Well, well.

The Pastor droned on, mentioning something about sin, about the path of righteousness, about how the youth of today were straying too far. Billy barely registered the words, too busy watching Samvel from across the room. The guy wasn’t looking at him, not yet, but there was something about him—something about the way he stood there, stiff and unmoving, like he hated being there just as much as Billy did.

That intrigued him.

Billy had always liked a challenge. There was nothing more exhilarating than getting his hands on something—or someone—he wasn’t supposed to have. And Samvel? The Pastor’s golden boy? The quiet kid, the off-limits one?

Oh yeah.

Billy was already grinning as the Pastor turned his attention back to him.

“Billy Hargrove.”

Billy barely flinched. “What?”

“You’d do well to listen instead of letting your mind wander.” Pastor Samvel’s voice was firm, disapproving.

Billy feigned innocence, leaning back lazily. “Oh, trust me, Pastor, I’m listening real well.”

The Pastor’s eyes narrowed, but Billy didn’t care. His attention had already drifted back to Samvel, whose gaze had finally—finally—flickered toward him.

Just a brief glance. A second too long.

Billy smirked.

Oh yeah. This was gonna be fun.