“Yeah, man.” Steve should stop drinking Bailey’s. It makes him sick by association, swear to god. “Couple of times.”
“What did you think about?” Billy asks him. They’re both laying on the floor, bored of watching TV, bored of listening to music, bored of most things. Maybe not bored though, just, disinterested.
It’s hard to connect to things like that, now. Since Starcourt. So now they just drink until talking is easier and talk. For hours. About a million different things, anything that comes to mind. And as the days-weeks-months seep through they don’t need to drink as much to talk like that.
Steve puffs air out from his cheeks. “Which time?”
“Ok,” Steve’s had one leg bent up for a while now, but he’s tired, so he lets it fall, knock into Billy’s leg. “I remember there was this moment back under the mall, where like, it kinda seemed like that was gonna be it. And mostly I was glad I wasn’t alone.”
“Yeah, exactly. But I remember thinking, I’ve wasted my whole fuckin’ life. Except for the last like, year. I didn’t start doing stuff that meant anything until fucking, last Christmas. Well, ok, not- not this last Christmas, but the Christmas before that-”
Steve turns his head to pull a face at Billy. Billy’s smiling a little. Which is about as much as Billy ever smiles. And Steve doesn’t see him do it with anyone else but Max.
However long it’s been, the changes always shock Steve a little. The gaunt shift in Billy’s complexion, the scar on his cheek, the short hair. Even his eyes look different. Which Steve knows, because he knows exactly what Billy’s eyes look like at any given time, can guess the expression.
“That it?” Billy pushes at where Steve’s leg rests on his own.
“That’s, yeah that’s mostly it.”
Billy nods. “Think you’re wasting time now?”
Steve knows the answer to this one. “No.”
Billy nods again, looks back at the ceiling.
“What about you?” Steve asks after a pause.
“What about me?” Billy pulls on his sweatshirt strings, making them even again.
“What did you think about?”
“Not that you have to tell me-”
“No.” Billy says finally, letting go of the sweatshirt strings. “I’ll tell you.”
Steve doesn’t say anything for a bit. He’s really sleepy. Not tired, sleepy. He feels like that a lot when Billy comes over for late night like this. Like maybe he could actually sleep. Maybe he could drag some of the blankets off his bed onto the floor…
“I just regretted stuff.” Billy says. It clings to itself in the air. “Just kinda… ran through a list of shit I wish I did different. Made me pretty fucking sad,” he laughs a little. It sounds forced. “But you know. Not like anything I coulda done.”
“Right.” Steve cracks his thumb knuckles, thinks about regret.
“I didn’t regret that though. What happened. That was like, the first thing in a while that I liked that I did. Like, fuck yeah. I did that.” Billy was smiling a little again.
“Yeah.” Steve smiles a little too.
Crickets and frogs echo through the suburbs, in through Steve’s window, but it’d get cold enough that they’d stop soon. Maybe October?
“What did you regret?” Steve asks. It’s warm in his room.
Billy doesn’t reply for a bit again. Then, “Dunno. A lot of stuff.”
Sure he wanted to, but should he? “Generally how much of a prick I am.” Billy laughed a little. “Regret some stuff like that. Stuff with Max. And Lucas. All the kids actually. And, you know… you.”
“I think you’ve made up for a lot of that stuff, man.” Steve felt his voice go gentler.
“For sure with Max. And me. Second chances and shit.”
“Dunno about that second one.” Billy laughed again. He never laughed this much less he was making up for something.
“Billy, I meant it when I said I’m over it.” Steve propped himself up on his elbows. “Seriously. I like, forgave you and I meant it.”
“Yeah.” Billy said like he didn’t know what else to say.
“I think, you know, we’ve both like, grown a lot, as people and whatever.”
“And I mean, we’re not dead. Which means, we have this like, chance or whatever, to make up for lost time.”
“Be good people. Carpe diem.”
“Carpe diem.” Billy repeated.
Steve kinda feels like Billy’s making fun of him. “Yeah.”
Steve lays back down, stretches his arms out. Hopes what he said made any sense at all. Waits for Billy to say something back.
By now he can tell when Billy is about to say something. And he can usually guess what he’s going to say too. And how his voice would sound saying it. And what he’d do with his hands, and when he’d pause to think, when he’d say something witty enough for Steve to have to scramble not to miss it.
Because for the past few months, they’ve seen each other more than they’ve seen anyone else. See, talk, joke, cry, touch, smell, Jesus Steve loves how Billy smells. And he loves it when Billy touches him. Maybe because the list of people that touch Steve like he’s real has shrunk exponentially. Maybe because Billy makes Steve feel real no matter what he does.
Steve thinks about saying something like that. Something that means something, like “you’re really important to me” or “I feel real when I’m around you” but everything sounds like something that would get him a hard shove and a ‘shut up Harrington you’re drunk’ when he’s had maybe one drink. But maybe he will say something. Or do something, anything-
“Do you know I’ve had a thing for you since we met.” Billy says all at once.
Steve has no idea how to respond to that, it’s like half his brain shuts down, not that Billy even gives him time to respond before he started talking again.
“I saw you at school even before the Halloween party and then when we met that was it. I was fucking done for. And I was shit to you because I was just so fucking scared.” Steve has never seen Billy’s eyes look like this. He can’t look away. “Even after I tried to give you that weak ass apology I just couldn’t bring myself to fucking talk to you and I didn’t even care if- if anything you know I would have just loved a friend. So I’m just there in Starcourt like ‘fuck, guess this is it’ and I thought about Max, but I thought about you. I thought how I wished I’d fucking said something. Done something- anything-”
Steve cuts Billy off by grabbing him into a hug. Pretty much just rolling closer to him and wrapping his arms around Billy’s middle as hard as he can. Steve’s never hugged anyone this hard. He can feel Billy doing it back, despite how much it probably hurts his ribs, even now, months later. Billy’s hugging him like he’s gonna snap Steve in half. One of those I’m-using-you-as-leverage-to-keep-my-heart-in-my-chest hugs.
Steve feels like every point of contact between them makes his brain lose tension. Like just touching Billy is all he needs to do ever.
This is better. Than anything Steve could have said. What is happening right now is better than fucking any stupid words. How heavy Billy feels in Steve’s arms- feels good. Feels like the label on his mystery drug. The diagnosis for why they can’t go a day without seeing each other anymore.
“Do you still?” Steve whispers into Billy’s sweatshirt. “Feel that way.”
“Yeah, dumbass.” Billy whispers back, nose pressed against Steve’s hair. “‘Course I do.”
Steve can feel Billy’s fingers digging into his shoulder, like maybe Steve would try to get away from him. He wouldn’t dream of it now.
Steve thinks maybe when you almost-die, you’re not super alive again for a bit. It’s gotta be a shock to the system. He feels fucking alive right now though, but not cold-alive, no. This is warm-alive. Everything is warm like blood in his veins is warm like his tongue in his mouth like his heart in his chest like Billy’s skin touching his is warm. Steve hasn’t been touched- held- like this is so long. So warm all over.
“Me too.” Steve says, screwing his eyes shut. “I like how warm you are.”
“I like how you smell.” Billy says back.
“Jesus.” Steve murmurs, pulls his head back a little.
Billy lets him, doesn’t let go of the back of his neck though.
He drags his thumbs across Steve’s jaw. Warm.
“You should do it. Whatever you regret not doing.” Steve says, heart beating out of his chest like it has before every first kiss of his life. “Do it now.”
Billy kisses him. And maybe it should have been more surprising, more novel or strange, but it’s just familiar. One kiss in a thousand, it feels like they’ve done this before, always. Since time Steve’s known what kissing someone who doesn’t taste like cigarettes anymore would be like. How hot Billy’s mouth would be, how easily the two of them would find a rhythm, how good Billy’s tongue feels against his own even though that should probably be gross- objectively gross- how he has to breathe through his nose, how Billy licks his teeth, or bits his lip, how Billy’s spit tastes sweeter than is own, how he kinda wants to drink it for that reason. He can feel Billy’s fingers dragging over the bumps of his ribcage, makes him grab Billy’s hand to push under the fabric of his t-shirt- and how much better that feels, skin on skin- Steve’s gets careless with his kisses, he can hear Billy gasp. But his thoughts catch up to him for a split second, and he has to pull back.
“I don’t really wanna… go farther than this.” Steve gets out, isn’t really sure what he expects in response.
“Me neither.” Billy’s unfazed. “Do that thing with your tongue again.”
Steve obliges, even rolls them over to make the angle less awkward, lets Billy sit on his thighs and push his shirt up and just kiss and touch like Billy’s been dying to touch him, like Steve hasn’t been dying to be touched.
But they stop again in a moment. Stop just to hang onto each other on Steve’s bedroom floor. Steve’s going to suggest they get on his bed in a second. But he’s going to press a kiss to Billy’s cheek first- that’s something he’s known he’s wanted to do. The kiss will be ever so slightly bitter from Billy’s aftershave. He only bothers to shave when he’s going to see Steve.
This has to be what being alive is about, Steve thinks. Whatever this is, this is it.
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