Kyle

He didn’t understand it at first until he watched Steve going on failed dates after failed dates, or watching a short relationship end in a terrible break-up and Steve moping around.

Eddie didn’t want to count how many times he’s seen Steve’s heart break.

So now he’s on a mission: keep Steve from dating.

He’s ruining every opportunity Steve gets for dates, making plans with him almost every weekend and after a while, Steve stops asking girls out and Eddie feels accomplished.

At least, he did until Steve kissed him goodbye after movie night and now Eddie’s so fucking confused.

It was there on his first day of school. It was there at every doctor and dentist appointment. It was there the first time he saw his dad push his mom — and it got tighter then, never letting up.

It settled there, deep in his stomach, when he was cradling the phone against his face and begging her to come back and she said she couldn’t.

Sometimes, when he feels too much, it feels like his heart twists the same way. Like when his dad pushes him, or smacks him upside the head, or across his face, or when words are spit at him and they cut like knives.

His stomach twists and he’s jittery, fiddling with something, anything. A pencil in class, his keys when he’s in the parking lot, his ring when he’s surveying the pool.

He’s made peace with it. He knows it’s there to stay.

But then, Steve Harrington.

Steve fucking Harrington.

There’s this…pull. This immediate something that had Billy constantly near him, like the guy had his own orbit and he was always caught up in it.

He couldn’t stay away from him. It was almost a problem.

Almost, because Steve liked it. He liked the attention, Billy supposed. Or maybe the fun of sneaking around, kissing behind locked doors and hooking up in the middle of the night.

He liked it so much, they’ve been doing it for almost six months.

And that’s a lot, for Billy. It’s the longest he’s allowed someone to be around him.

He sometimes wonders why. Why Steve? Was it his big brown eyes? The warm of his gaze? The shape of his lips? The way he laughed? The way he held Billy against his chest and combed his fingers through his hair? The way he always made time for him? Learned his favourite flavours of everything? His favourite book? TV show? The way he held Billy’s face so gently when they kissed in the middle of the night? Or maybe it was the time Steve kissed his eyelids when he pretended to sleep.

Or…maybe it’s the way Billy’s brow wasn’t furrowed when he was with him. How his tense shoulders dropped and relaxed.

How the knot in his stomach loosened, after all these years.

It scared him, at first. How did Steve do that? How was it possible? All Billy had to do was fucking be near him and suddenly he was at ease.

He wants to freak out. He wants to rip himself away from Steve and tell him never to talk to him again. Push him away before Steve does.

But, he can’t. Not when it feels so good to stay. He figures that maybe he’ll prove himself wrong, wait for the day Steve finally gets tired of him and leaves.

The only problem with that is that it’s been over ten years since then, and Billy’s stomach is finally at ease and Steve’s still there, right next to him.

Steve sneaking them onto the baseball diamond he coaches at after hours, teaching Billy how to swing a bat

Billy rolling his eyes all “I know how to play, Bambi, I just quit early”

Steve telling him “shut up, I’m trying to be romantic here” while he’s pressed to billys back, arms and hands over his for proper batting technique

Steve :

"So now it's my fault, huh."

Billy : *shrugs shoulders, purses lips sourly*

Steve : "Okay, start the car. We're skipping the first couple of periods and going to my place."

He'd watched Steve toss back shot after shot after his girl had left the party, clearly trying to suppress whatever emotion he was feeling, and Billy knew better than to approach him, and yet...

Knowing better doesn't always mean doing better, does it? Especially when he's drunk.

He blames it on that when he fists the front of the pretty boy's shirt and Steve falls forward with the smallest little tug, his eyelids so heavy as their gazes meet, his lips parted just enough that Billy needs to kiss him.

But, he doesn't. Not yet.

Instead, he offers to take Steve home, and to his surprise, Steve accepts.

He doesn't live far. They climb into Billy's car and Steve's scrunching his nose at the heavy scent of cigarettes and cologne and the loud music that's suddenly playing. He looks so cute, Billy wants to eat him.

But, he doesn't. Instead, he smirks and drives just fast enough to make Steve nervous.

When they arrive to what might be the biggest house in Hawkins, it looks like no one is home. He watches Steve stumble out of the car and laughs at him, gets out and circles the car to help him up from the driveway as Steve whines and brushes the dirt from his palms, leaning all of his weight against Billy as they make their way to the front door.

It's a real nice place, Billy thinks, as he helps Steve up to his room. He guy's room has the ugliest wallpaper he's ever seen, though and he's about to say that but Steve’s heavy-limbed, so drunk, and Billy’s no better at this point, so when Steve’s knees suddenly give out and he’s kneeling at Billy’s feet, his flushed cheek pressed to the front of Billy’s jeans with his big doe eyes staring up at him, Billy's too slow to stop it.

He leans back against the bedroom door and hears it click shut with the motion, tucking his chin and staring down at the pretty boy at his feet. Steve's mumbling something under his breath, sighing heavily as he rubs his cheekbone along the denim, and Billy feels his cock stir.

There's a moment of silence, where Billy's staring down at Steve's thick hair and Steve's stopped mumbling so he can tilt his chin up and look at him again, their gazes once again locked.

That whole thing about not doing better echos in the back of his mind as he lifts his hand from his side and presses his thumb against the line of Steve’s lips, tugging his lower lip down, wondering if Steve will push off of him and tell him to get out but no, instead he feels his stomach flip when Steve’s tongue presses against the pad of his thumb, drawing it into his mouth quietly, their gaze never breaking.

He feels Steve give the smallest little suck and Billy fucking moans.

Steve : I wasn't saying anything.

It’s like looking at the sun. Or the flash of a camera. Maybe even the sunlight rippling off of the lake.

Either way, he can’t find the words to describe exactly how Billy makes him feel.

The flash of anger in those blue eyes, the way his canines show when he smiles just big enough, the freckles on his nose bunching together as he scrunches his face in disgust, the way his tongue runs over his teeth, the way his laugh sounds in Steve’s car, the sleepy murmur of his voice in Steve’s ear late at night, the heaviness of his limbs as they’re thrown across Steve’s body.

It’s like he’s drowning when Billy’s around.

Which is ironic, he supposes, as he thinks of those red swim shorts that come out from June to August.

And yet, when he’s gasping for air when Billy’s kissing him, he doesn’t want to be helped, or saved, or anything.

He holds his breath and closes his eyes, feels the tightness of his chest as Billy pecks at his lips and holds him close, mumbling something dirty-sweet into his ear as he grabs Steve’s ass, like he always does.

His chest has been tight and full for so long, he’s used to being short of breath, but he’s breathless when he hears Billy mumble something new.

“I think,” the blond whispers into his ear, so low that Steve can barely hear him over the buzz of nothing, “I love you.”

He feels like his ribcage is cracked, suddenly. His eyes are wide and his heart is beating quick, not fast.

Billy pulls back just enough to look him in the eye, a vulnerability there that’s poorly hidden under his usual bravado as he huffs, “And you better love me, too, or I’ll beat your ass.”

He laughs. He can’t help it. It’s startled out of him, his eyes are wet as he grins and shakes his head in amused disbelief, which makes Billy eye him.

“I love you, too,” Steve whispers, pulling the blond close.

He’d hate to read into things or break whatever truce they have going on. Lately Billy had been softer around the edges, things shifting in a way Steve didn’t know how to take.

He’d been bolder around campus— which was new. A hand pressed to the small of Steve’s back when they passed through the crowded hallways. Falling to step with him after class instead of peeling off to smoke or chase some other distraction like he normally did. In the dining hall, he didn’t just sit near him—he sat with him, close enough that their trays bumped, Billy’s knee constantly brushing his under the table.

He started doing small, thoughtless things that didn’t feel thoughtless at all. Tugging Steve’s chair out for him, or he’d leave his arm draped along the back of his chair, Billy’s fingertips skimming his shoulder. Leaning in close to murmur into Steve’s ear in the middle of class. A majority of the time it’d be something that left Steve red faced and flustered. Leaving a hand on his knee, ruffling Steve’s hair, bringing him coffee when they had early morning lectures, lighting his cigarettes for him.

I wasn’t just once or twice either. It wasn’t subtle. People noticed. It wasn’t the kind of thing Billy did, not with Steve, not with anyone.

It was one thing for Billy to act like that when it was just the two of them. But putting it on display in front of half the campus? It left him so thrown off, Steve didn’t know what to do with him.

Billy never explained it either, never said a word about what it meant. He was still shit at anything that had to do with communication. But the message seemed clear enough— well at least that’s what Steve had been telling himself.

But his thoughts are interrupted when he hears a loud hissing sound. He turns around and sees Billy spraying whip cream from a can in his mouth. When Billy catches Steve staring, he’s like “what? I’m hungry.” He starts doing it again and Steve sighs.

“Yep, I’m going to die.” He mumbles.