do you wanna feel how it feels?

steve  wasn't  sad  to  see  the  ghost  of  billy  fading  from  his  sight.  he  knew  he  would  still  be  there  in  his  dreams.  just  as  he  always  had  been.  before  will  gave  him  the  hope  he  housed  in  the  center  of  his  chest.  the  vision  of  billy's  ultimate  sacrifice  was  gruesome  and  bloody—as  fresh  as  the  night  it  transpired—in  steve's  memory.  he  wouldn't  forget  it.  couldn't  no  matter  how  hard  he  pushed  at  it.  plant  your  feet,  pretty  boy.  king  steve  created  his  own  reality.  with  his  stubborn  streak  and  ingrown  privlidge,  steve  simply  didn't  accept  what  some  said  was  the  end.  because  how  could  it  end?  they'd  only  just  begun.  so  young,  so  strong…  nothing  had  the  power  to  strike  down  hargrove  for  good.  did  it?  harrington's  breath  grew  shallow  whenever  he  let  those  questions  haunt  him.  the  phantoms  were  friendly  at  first.  whispering  sweet,  tender  lies.  sweet  until  the  bitter  flash  of  the  final  blow  shocked  his  system  over  and  over  like  a  recurring  nightmare.  steve  refused  to  accept  that  end.

he  replaced  the  lie  with  all  the  pieces  of  billy  he'd  idly  collected  since  that  first  night.  collecting  them  like  the  shells  that  lurked  in  every  corner  of  the  hargrove-mayfield  household.  steve  heard  once  that  people  didn't  die  if  you  loved  them.  although  he  tried  to  protect  both  of  them  from  the  dangers  of  getting  too  close  to  one  another,  steve  knew  he  loved  billy.  he  knew  it  like  he  just  knew  his  own  eyes  were  brown.  it  was  an  understanding  that  was  part  of  him  from  the  very  beginning.  a  design  touched  by  the  divine  and  as  basic  as  finding  a  lucky  penny  in  the  parking  lot.  always  meant  for  him  if  only  he  chose  to  look  for  it.  boy,  did  billy  make  him  look…  as  stubborn  as  steve  inherently  was,  billy  was  patient  and  tenacious.  once  he  got  harrington's  attention,  he  wouldn't  accept  steve's  gaze  to  wander. 

steve  had  his  excuses,  too.  their  families  were  too  different.  their  dads  were  too  angry.  billy's  future  was  secure  working  with  his  hands  in  a  garage.  steve's  future  was  uncertain  and  headed  for  a  dead  end.  steve  was  haunted  by  those  excuses  after  the  mall.  the  time  he  wasted  pushing  billy  away.  plant  your  feet,  plant  your  feet…  that's  right,  harrington.  run  away!  like  you  always  do. 

billy  couldn't  be  gone  because  steve  had  been  wrong.  he  needed  a  do-over.  he  needed  to  give  himself  another  chance.  he  needed  to  give  billy  a  chance.  billy  came  to  him  in  his  dreams  after  steve  was  finally  able  to  drift  into  sleep  about  a  week  after  the  mall  incident.  it  was  restless  and  fitful,  but  soon  he  could  see  a  figure  cut  against  the  haze.  strong  shoulder,  muscled  legs  and  a  burning  cigarette  that  he  could've  sworn  he  smelled  even  in  his  sleep.  some  nights,  billy  taunted  him.  he  asked  steve  did  he  forget  about  him  so  easily?  some  nights  were  memories.  they  were  back  at  the  lake,  or  they  were  at  the  diner  sharing  a  plate  of  fries  and  a  couple  of  burgers.  whatever  he  did  and  where  ever  he  went,  steve  thought  of  billy.  he  wouldn't  let  billy  go.  he  didn't  pretend  that  his  mistakes  weren't  made.  steve  didn't  repaint  the  past.  he  simply  refused  to  give  up  that  it  would  be  impossible  to  bring  billy  back. 

will's  vision  wasn't  a  wish  that  came  true—it  was  the  news  steve  had  been  waiting  for.  this  billy  looked  different  than  the  one  he  remembered.  he  wasn't  as  bronzed  from  the  sun.  the  defined  muscles  maybe  were  a  bit  more  gaunt.  as  much  as  these  changes  startled  steve,  he  was  sure  that  billy  would  recover.  it's  me,  this  billy  said.  you  got  me.  steve  kept  on  smiling.  he  wouldn't  ever  let  him  go  again. 

blacked  out,  harrington  wasn't  sure  how  much  time  had  passed.  he  felt  sore  and  hollow  when  he  was  starting  to  come  back  to  his  senses.  he  felt  the  absence  of  billy  in  his  dreams,  but  he  was  relieved  to  find  the  real  billy  within  his  grasp.  his  arms  moved  sluggishly,  but  he  still  managed  to  reach  for  billy.  he  knew  the  smell  of  the  interior  of  his  beamer  before  his  eyes  were  fully  cleared  to  see  that  they  were  safe  inside  it.  the  walkie  was  situated  on  the  dashboard,  static  filling  the  space  with  dustin's  frantic  instructions  that  the  rest  of  them  had  made  it  out  of  the  facility  and  were  heading  back  to  base.  the  kids  weren't  allowed  by  harrington  to  enter  the  main  secured  area  of  the  hospital,  but  they  caused  a  distraction  for  steve  to  infiltrate.  nancy  was  waiting  in  the  station  wagon  to  be  their  getaway  driver  with  robin. 

❝  we  made  it.  gotta  tell  ‘em.  ❞  steve  muttered.  ❝  we  made  it,   right?  ❞  his  head  lulled  to  the  passenger’s  window.  the  cool  caress  of  the  glass  chilled  his  fevered  skin.  ❝  you  gonna  be  able  to  drive  us,  captain  america?  we  need  to  get  the  hell  away  from  here.  like  as  far  away  as  we  can.  ❞  steve  gripped  billy's  hand  in  his.  he  wanted  to  cry  at  the  feeling  of  being  able  to  touch  him  again.  ❝  oh,  my  god.  ❞  he  whispered,  almost  brokenly.  gulping  through  his  dried  cotton  mouth,  steve  turned  his  face  against  the  fabric  of  the  seat  to  hide  his  shamed  face.  ❝  can  you  ever  forgive  me?  ❞  now  was  not  the  time  to  air  out  the  mistakes  he  made.  they  needed  to  get  someplace  safe  first,  but  steve  was  still  a  little  loopy  from  the  fight.  and  the  constant  companionship  of  his  grief  all  this  time. 

But he gets them both to the bmw. Steve's baby. The one he let Billy drive to Lover's Lake the day it all changed. Love, blossoming. His hand reaching out, and Steve's hand reaching back. Laced fingers. Slotting into place like it was the only thing that made sense. Until the day Steve pushed Billy away. Like he was being a goddamn hero about it. Sealed with that bullshit line of how he's thinking about him first. To keep him safe. Safe. It's a joke, like that's a real fucking joke. What in Billy's life has ever been safe? And oh, Billy threw it back at Steve that day. Burning, like, fuck you, pretty boy, and your restless feet! Restless mind. Movin' always movin', so that Steve couldn't see that an uncertain future and an angry past had nothing on them. And the only thing that was ever safe in Billy's life...

Were the days they slipped out, knocking knees under the table as they swapped burgers and fries. The nights where Steve's house became a home, how the bed had sides now-- Steve's side and Billy's side. The car rides. The mix tape Billy made (the one Steve cried over because it was love, love, love). The feel of Steve on his chest as Billy read to him. The way they lit each other's cigarettes first before lighting their own. Steve's hands setting Billy's hair in curlers. The love in Billy's expertly sprayed puff of Farah Fawcett in just the right place for Steve's signature swoop of pretty brown hair.

But the thing that killed Billy the most is he knew Steve never meant it. Like, the guy's stubborn, so goddamn stubborn it's infuriating. It stopped him from seeing what was right there in front of him. Which is why Billy was always the one with tenacity. Because he saw Steve. He saw Steve's potential. Believed in him more that Steve believed in himself. And once he opened up and let Billy into his heart, then Billy knew. He knew.

Which is why Billy chokes out a sob the second they're in the car. Safe. Billy's at the wheel, and it's like his life is given back to him. There's a future now. Not a numb, agonizing wait for death. Trapped in four white walls and chained by tubes sticking out of his skin. And it's a future Steve went to bat for-- that Steve got broken and bruised for.

Like goddamn, Steve Harrington planted his feet. For him.

Billy hears the little shits over the radio. Saying they made it out. He swallows, steels his breathing. Grabs the walkie faster than he thought possible. "Max. You there?" There's static, and then Max's voice comes through. "Billy. I'm here. Billy, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. Billy, please-- get out of there." Billy throws his head back onto the head rest, looks up at the ceiling of the bmw. Tears stream down his face as he closes his eyes. "I'm comin', Max. You get the hell outta here, all right?" And then, Steve's talking, and it's a lot. More than Billy can process. How the hell. Was this all Steve's plan? "We made it, baby. I told 'em just--"

Steve's hand is in his, gripping it like he's not letting go. And it's everything and it's all there is and it's bringing Billy back. "Steve." Billy squeezes his hand, leans over the center console to cup his face with the other. "Hey. Look at me, Stevie. Baby." His eyes wash over Steve's face. Sees all the bruises, all the shame. Billy softens. The tears are still flowing down his face, but he softens. He strokes his thumb over Steve's cheek. Slow, gentle. Like he's healing the bruises and wiping away the shame.

And then Billy gets serious. Loving. Firm. "You listen t'me. You're here now, all right? And I'm here. That's how it's gonna be. You and me. Got that?" Billy closes the distance. Presses their foreheads together. Billy's chest cracks open. His heart's beating-- full of the words he still needs to say. But they're in the bmw outside the hospital, and Steve is bruised and beaten. And Billy's body is tired, but screaming get to safety.

"We're gettin' the hell outta here, pretty boy. Hang on." He leans back into the seat. Not sure if he's ready to drive, but fuck this, he's doing it. Presses the clutch. Turns the ignition. Shifts into gear. Starts driving. Puts that goddamn hospital in the rearview mirror. For a moment, it's all rubber tires on the road. And then, the question that's still beating in his heart.

I think this is all predominantly Neil's orchestration. He wants Susan for himself, and by keeping her on a tighter leash, he isolates her and further reduces her agency. He wants Susan to feel as though Max is being provided for/cared for, so Neil does things like indulges Max with more material goods (see here) and then assigns Billy to be Max's caretaker so she doesn't worry about her. This, of course, fosters resentment between Billy and Max, and keeps every family member isolated and/or at odds with each other, leaving them essentially powerless and Neil as the central point of power and control.

Billy becomes brother and guardian and mom and dad to Max. And it is a forced thing; it's a very complicated dynamic that has many layers going on, but at the end of the day, it's always been Billy standing up and holding everything back for her to the point where Max can't really comprehend the idea of Billy dead on the floor because he's always just been there (read more here).

But ANYWAY my point to this is I think it all becomes very clear how much Susan was not in Max's life once Billy is gone. Because once Billy is gone, she's just left on her own. She's taking the bus, she virtually fends for herself (makes food, cleans up the trailer, takes out the trash, takes care of her mother, who's passed out drunk on the couch), her grades are slipping and Susan doesn't care, she's depressed and Susan doesn't acknowledge it, she offers herself up as bait for a monster in a suicide plot of her own making with Lucas as the only one in the group who really protests her idea, and then ultimately, she falls victim to a monster who preys on her because she's alone. And all of that happened because Billy died and couldn't be there for her. Which also just kind of shows you how parentified Billy was, too. Like nobody else in that family was doing anything.

And yes, I said previously (read here) that we also know canonically that Billy is the only person who sides with Max's agency, saying she's old enough that she doesn't need a full-time babysitter. And that means that yes, he does let her do her own thing and live her life, but the only times we see him intervene were when her actions would directly cause Neil to lose it and beat him. And that is when he tries to course correct for them both to get out of the dangers and consequences of living in an abusive household. Because the reality is, that despite Max's Gold Child treatment where she is largely sheltered from the abuse going on, I think Billy always has this perception that one day, those things aren't going to protect her, either.

And he would have been right because look what happens to Max in S4. She gets abandoned, preyed upon, tortured, and killed (briefly).

Betelgeuse  —  Sender  rests  their  forehead  against  Receiver's.

Sirius  —  Sender  traces  lazy  circles  on  Receiver’s  wrist.

Rigel  —  Sender  steps  between  Receiver  and  the  danger.

Altair  —  Sender  lifts  Receiver’s  chin,  locking  eyes.

Deneb  —  Sender  wraps  their  coat  around  Receiver’s  shoulders,  fingers  lingering  longer  than  necessary.

Procyon  —  Sender  grabs  Receiver’s  hand  before  they  can  leave.

Spica  —  Sender  brushes  a  leaf  from  Receiver’s  shoulder.

Pollux  —  Sender  pulls  Receiver  into  a  half-laughing,  half-panicked  hug.

Castor  —  Sender  offers  the  Receiver  a  cigarette

Fomalhaut  —  Sender  leans  against  Receiver’s  back.

Bellatrix  —  Sender  wipes  blood  from  Receiver’s  lip  with  their  sleeve.

Alnitak  —  Sender  lifts  the  hem  of  Receiver’s  shirt,  tending  to  the  wound  in  silence.

Alnilam  —  Sender  places  Receiver’s  hand  over  their  heart.

Mintaka  —  Sender  bumps  shoulders  with  Receiver,  grinning.

Dubhe  —  Sender  wraps  a  scarf  around  Receiver’s  neck,  adjusting  it  carefully.

Merak  —  Sender  places  a  blade  into  Receiver’s  palm.

Phecda  —  Sender  reaches  for  Receiver’s  hand  under  the  table,  hidden  from  everyone.

Alphard  —  Sender  kisses  the  inside  of  Receiver’s  wrist.

Nunki  —  Sender  holds  Receiver’s  gaze  across  the  battlefield.

Scheat  —  Sender  grabs  Receiver’s  collar,  pulling  them  close.

Markab  —  Sender  holds  out  a  map,  finger  tapping  on  a  place  only  they  understand.

Kaus  Australis  —  Sender  rests  their  hand  on  Receiver’s  shoulder.

Almach  —  Sender  runs  a  thumb  across  Receiver’s  knuckles.

"here." jason says, looking up at billy, with something on his chest, this sensation that he can't figure out, a feeling he can't put words into. just. there. he sees them then, tears shining reflecting off the orange hues that envelope them. and it's picking at a thread pulling it watching it unravel, billy goes with it. and it makes jason soften, sitting up slowly, blood going with it, flowing down to his lips.

"hey it's okay."

it's instinct. to reach out, hand on his shoulder, then his arm extends to settle on top of both shoulders, a half hug. his head is killing him, and he should rest down just a little bit more. but he isn't doing that right now. settling on comforting billy. he smiles a little goofy with it. knows that these must be happy tears. of sorts. "-i need a pop. and like food. but." his free hand taps the sand, looks over the waves. "-dude we gotta go for a swim. before it gets too dark. or a least like. a dip." catching this second wind, eyelashes flutter trying to meet billy's eyes. he doesn't know what's up with him but he always feels like chasing billy down. reaching out to touch him. the lingering sensation of billy's hands on his. it's. a lot, too much, enough to be drowned out by the waves breaking into the sand.

he doesn't move. not until billy does first. it's only then that he shakes off his windbreaker, left only with his shirt and shorts one, he sits it down, their makeshift spot. reorienting himself is the hardest part, along with finding some ground. "it's real pretty. we got here at a nice time." he can't shake it off entirely, he sort of is looking to ground billy too. he cries kind of pretty, he doesn't think he knows anyone who does that. it's a second of hesitation, worried, lingering that maybe billy isn't okay. that it was too much. he looks at billy intently and then, out there.

"you okay?"

The weight of Jason's arms on his shoulders is what does it. Billy curls in, presses their foreheads together. Wraps an arm around Jason's back. Anchoring there. Closes his eyes, chokes on the tears for a while until he's breathing normally again. Finally, Billy peels his forehead away, their skin sticking together from the humidity. He opens his eyes, sees clearer now. Jason's smile. And all the blood. "Hey." Billy's brows knit together, worried. "Jesus, hang on. You're bleedin'." He lifts a hand, slow. Lets it hover in the space between them for a second. Billy reaches with his thumb, drops his gaze to Jason's mouth. And it's gentle, it's tender- the way Billy runs his thumb across Jason's upper lip. Wiping off the blood. He softens, feels his heart flutter when he realizes Jason's trying to meet his eyes. Billy blinks back, drowns in brown, hazel eyes half-shining from the orange glow of a California sunset. "Don't do this all the time, all right? Givin' yourself away till you drop-- fuck." And it's like Billy's kinda begging him, like he can't have him go down that road, too. "You're gonna kill yourself. Let's just sit for a second. We'll take a dip. Then you gotta eat."

Time passes, but Billy gets up when the blood stops flowing from Jason's nose. Feels his stomach flip when he sees him discard his windbreaker, nervous over the prospect of taking off his clothes. Which is really fucking something because Billy wasn't nervous before. Once, he felt pretty hot unbuttoned. He doesn't now. But he walks toward the waves all the same. With Jason. "It's always pretty here." He's looking out there, lets the ocean breeze meet his face. "Just like I remember." He turns then, looks at Jason. Feels the hesitation between them, the worried look on the guy's face. So he reaches out, takes Jason's hand, squeezes it. "I'm okay. It's just--" He swallows. "I was happy here, once." Once. How about again?

Jason's looking out to the water, waiting. They're at the edge of the beach and the edge of something else. And Billy's been carrying insurmountable weight for all these years. It's held him hostage, held him back, trapped. He can't do it anymore- can't carry it out into the water. Unless he wants to drown. There was a time that Billy wanted that. Not anymore. Jason's waiting. The ocean's waiting. So,

careful  not  to  make  his  presence  known  in  such  a  small  town,  dwayne  smelled  the  blood  before  he  knew  its  source.  his  hunger  was  constant  in  his  belly  these  days,  rationing  his  feeding  from  the  wildlife  of  the  forest  and  loiterers  at  the  local  bar:  the  hideout.  feeding,  never  killing.  it  was  never  enough.  he  felt  like  he'd  stumbled  out  of  a  television  screen  left  on  overnight  while  the  family  have  retired  safely  to  their  beds.  a  cartoon  wolf  wandering  the  darkness  in  search  of  a  taste  he'd  caught  hint  of.  he  broke  over  a  hill  when  his  eyes  caught  the  sight  of  a  speeding  car  cutting  a  zig  zagged  path  down  the  dirt  road.  leaving  behind  a  lone  house  with  the  lights  still  burning.  dwayne  inhaled.  the  blood  was  left  behind,  too.  slowly,  eyes  searching  for  anyone  that  might  surprise  him  from  any  corner  of  the  porch,  he  entered  the  house. 

strange  that  he  could.  usually  requiring  invitation  from  the  owner,  dwayne  felt  no  barrier  at  the  door.  seeing  the  house  furnished  and  clearly  currently  occupied,  he  was  puzzled  by  the  phenomenon.  it  was  as  if  the  homeowner  was  temporarily  vacant  from  the  world…  he  didn't  pause  to  question  his  opportunity  because  the  fragrance  of  his  trail  was  at  an  end.  the  body  of  a  young  man  laid  out  on  the  floor  not  far  from  the  front  entrance.  his  blood  practically  glowed  in  the  light  of—the  christmas  bulbs?  his  focus  momentarily  pulled  from  the  boy,  dwayne  took  a  moment  to  take  in  the  scene.  the  longer  the  vampire  hid  beneath  the  ground  of  this  place,  the  weirder  things  became.  he  should  make  plans  to  leave  as  soon  as  he  was  able. 

cupping  the  half-conscious  boy's  face  in  his  palms,  dwayne  used  his  thumbs  to  clean  up  the  blood.  clearly,  he'd  been  in  a  fight,  but  why  was  his  head  swimming  from  those  punches  alone?  dwayne  leaned  down  and  took  a  deep  breath.  his  lungs  expanded  unnecessarily,  but  his  senses  were  working  overtime.  the  chemical  burn  of  whatever  toxins  were  flowing  through  the  boy's  blood  burned  his  nose.  dwayne  shook  off  the  sting  and  exhaled  the  scent.  he  wished  to  lick  the  blood  from  his  fingers,  but  he  knew  it  would  effect  him  negatively.  he  controlled  himself.  murmuring  his  words  of  encouragement,  dwayne's  head  canted  at  the  boy's  response.  his  vulnerability  sounded  foreign  to  his  lips.  it  made  dwayne  smile.  ❝  why  not?  ❠  he  answered.  ❝  got  nothing  else  better  to  do.  ❠

Which is why Billy's still fighting back. In his body, his mind. The same as it was, as it is. Billy Hargrove, alone, with planted feet. Which is something because like. What is at the other side of this charge he's drawing? Only another hand that comes out in malice that he's gotta hold back again and again. And Billy holds it back with a strength he thinks comes from the weights he lifts daily. But there's something else. A strength that is buried deep within his heart that beats, even now, saying, Get up, get up, get up, GET UP!

Billy wakes with a start. He's groggy, dazed, but swims through the murkiness of his mind. Sits up, fast, because he can't stay down. Too dangerous. His eyes are quick to assess this actual hell hole. Body tenses at the sight of the stranger. The stranger who is not a stranger, because he looks like him. Billy stares at him for a second like he doesn't trust what he's seeing. Blinks. Refocuses. Sees the guy who still looks like him reading a... rock magazine? In a... tunnel. Jesus, Billy hates this town. Feels the weight of memories that dredge up just by looking at this stranger. Remembers the displacement. The pain. Neil's hands on him, then pulling him away from everything he had.

"You're not from here." A statement that comes out slow, quiet, but rough. It hurts to speak. But Billy knows. People who look like the two of them do not belong in this hick town. And that finally begs the question:

the  vampire  was  using  the  tunnels  beneath  the  town  of  hawkins  as  his  own  personal  hideout.  something  about  being  beneath  the  ground  was  NATURAL  to  him.  not  only  as  an  immortal  who  needed  cover  from  the  sun,  but  it  gave  him  a  surrogate  home  comparable  to  the  caves  he  left  behind  in  santa  carla.  it  wasn't  anything  like  the  sunken  hotel,  of  course,  but  close  enough  to  give  him  some  COMFORT.  certainly,  enough  safety  from  the  winter  daylight  that  peaked  through  the  tree  line  abundant  here.  dwayne  couldn't  remember  ever  seeing  so  much  forest.  it  was  a  marvel  to  him  when  he  went  out  at  night.  he  took  to  walking  through  the  trees,  off  the  trail,  confident  he  wouldn't  run  into  anyone  in  the  dead  of  night.  wildlife  was  the  exception,  but  dwayne  growled  back. 

however,  tonight's  predatory  presence  was…  different.  the  growls  seemed  to  carry  a  gargling  purr  in  them.  nothing  like  the  wolves  and  coyotes  he'd  witnessed  before.  his  ears  strained  even  with  his  extraordinary  ability  to  understand  the  noises.  distracted  by  the  surge  of  rats  running  past  his  feet,  dwayne  picked  up  his  boots  in  shock  at  seeing  the  critters  scurry  all  at  once.  snatching  one  up  by  its  tail,  he  sunk  his  fangs  into  its  fat  body  only  to  spit  the  spoiled  blood  from  his  lips.  he  tossed  the  rodent's  body  away  with  a  harsh  GRIMACE.  using  the  back  of  his  sleeve  to  clear  the  mess  from  his  mouth,  dwayne  hacked  up  any  traces  of  its  taste.  marching  on,  he  came  to  the  edge  of  the  trees  to  an  old  warehouse.  a  car  was  out  front.  not  parked,  exactly.  it  looked  to  be  stranded.  the  door  was  still  visibly  opened  on  the  driver's  side. 

all  sense  bid  him  not  call  out  even  if  he  was  enough  of  a  threat  to  meet  whatever  monsters  lurked  out  there.  several  feet  from  the  vehicle,  dwayne  finally  caught  sight  of  who  he  assumed  was  the  owner  of  the  camaro.  @dealtgod  ( billy ) appeared…  dazed.  speaking  to  beings  that  weren't  apparent  to  him.  he  was  yelling.  something  urgent  awakened  in  dwayne.  a  protective  instinct  that  simmered  on  dying  coals  since  he  lost  his  coven.  ❝  hey!  ❠  he  cried.  ❝  do  you  need—  ❠  a  force  knocked  him  from  his  feet.  the  creature  he'd  heard  growling  in  the  woods  caught  up  with  him  and  tackled  him  across  the  gravel.  the  sharpened  rocks  cut  into  his  cheeks  and  palms  as  dwayne  tried  to  catch  himself.  immediately  going  on  the  defensive,  dwayne  rolled  onto  his  back  and  grabbed  at  the—faceless,  toothy  beast! 

Exposed for the taking, Billy hears something out there, licking its lips. Ready to eat. Dark shadows whip around him, circling. Dark shadows, long and reaching. Images flash of something sinister, something predatory, and it mixes with images of Karen's licking lips. The way she bought a swim suit for a boy her daughter's age, arched her body, preyed upon a loneliness, a gaping hole that's left him stranded on some back road, alone. Ready for the taking.

He knows better than to ask for help, for what help ever came? A mother, who left him with his father, who hits him, calls him names he can't repeat, wedges himself between his sister so that they never see eye-to-eye. But other eyes still watch, eyes from the girls who chew their gum right in his face, EAT HIM UP, and the eyes from the mothers, who should be mothers, but are instead predators, EAT HIM UP, and the only thing that comes out of Billy's mouth is not to ask for help, but to ask WHO'S THERE? Who's there now to take from him? And what else can Billy give, except,

There is someone else. Billy turns, frantic, confused. A voice in the dark, protective in tone, a foreign sound in his ears. And it's fast, all too fast, the way that darkness launches at the figure, the way the figure holds it off until it recoils. And Billy's left there, bleeding and dazed, with his heart beating in his ears, full of fear, but now...

Not alone.

He comes to the figure, kneels down by his face. Recognizes Dwayne now that the space and the darkness no longer keep them separated. Billy swallows his heart, keeps it down. Remembers that this is not the first time Dwayne has come for him when he was left for the taking. Left for dead. Billy reaches into the pocket of his leather jacket. Pulls out a handkerchief. Then begins. His hands tremble, as does his body. The aftershock of what could have happened, and of what did not. But his hands are expert in this, the act of cleaning up wounds. He's had years of practice on himself.

Dwayne's chuckle echoes between them. Fills the abandoned road, the abandoned factory, and his abandoned life. "You came, again." And it comes out a little broken, however much his body braces, tight, ready to take another hit. "Don't--" thank me, Billy thinks, doesn't say. His throat's tight. Hard to breathe. Hard to speak. "That thing, it--" Fuck. Billy blinks, pushing through the haze. The pain. "We should go. My car, she's--" Is this about the Camaro? Or himself?

the back of jason's house leads to the woods, a big backyard his aunt calls it. even set a wooden picnic table. she loves her time outside whenever she gets a break, it's easy to sit on the table and just wait. for the night to come, for something to settle in his bones, tie him to a place rather than a feeling. jason always drifting. away, away. he stays for now. for billy. circling each other slowly.

close to the end of the day, another day of just finding excuses to be with each other. they've been talking. about whatever, jason can't remember when he's got billy staring at him like this. it's a pull, he feels it before he knows it. never done a thing like this, it pairs with never having a chance with something like this. everything's rushing, he remembers the way billy looked under the sun on the beach. thinks about it way too often.

and then there is.

jason doesn't know what to say. what to do. a song he doesn't know the words to. just the rhythm. he smiles, easy. barely. gets distracted by the freckled that blossom over billy's cheeks, on top of his nose. his face warm. blinks himself into some words.

"yes." and then, after a beat. when he's sure his chest is going to crack open and pour some really like sweet shit. he breathes again. coming up for air. everything a little pink. "-yeah. please." braces for it.

Time's funny. Jason taught him this. But time's nice now, and Jason also taught him this. Sitting on the picnic table, turned toward him, talking about anything. It's routine for them now. Being together. Billy blows out a breath, airy. Warmth makes his whole face kinda glow with something, and his eyes spark like the ocean reflecting sunlight. It hasn't been there in a while, that light in his eyes. "Yeah?" It's whispered, goddamn hopeful, sealed with a smile. He leans in a bit, lets their knees and shoulders bump. Feels that kick in his heart. Is this what it's like to feel happy? Jesus, the feeling's goddamn foreign, but Billy's looking into Jason's eyes, all soft. Remembers the way Jason squeezed his hand the first time he reached out. Before the time jump. How he smiled at him. How they both smiled at each other. Oh, he said yes. "Jason, baby..."

It's been a while since Billy's done this. But his heart remembers, takes the lead. He leans in, slow. Gaze half-lidded. Lips curve faintly in a smile, hovering close, so close to Jason's mouth. Stays there for a breath. That's when he closes his eyes, lifts his head just a bit, brushing noses. Jesus. He's floating. And then, Billy presses his lips to Jason's. And now it's Billy's turn. He's stopping time for Jason this time around. Grounding them both. Giving them a place, together. Billy pulls back just a little to break the kiss, smiles wide, then kisses him again. Bumps a bit when they get together again, knocking teeth, but Billy just hums. Reaches a hand up, cups Jason's cheek. Gives him slow, languid kisses, once, twice more. Leans back just enough for his eyes to flutter open and see Jason, still there. He traces his thumb across Jason's cheek, warm, flushed pink, and,