One-shot response to @carito-dorito âs prompt:
Steve meets Billyâs mom at his grave and they bond as they talk about him
Itâs sunny and hot in Hawkins, not a cloud in the sky. A beautiful day if there ever was one. Everyone is probably soaking it up, enjoying it while it lasts.
Everyone except Steve, that is.
Steve wishes it was raining, that it was thundering, lightening around him.
Because it's painful, and unfair that the outside world doesnât match the hollowed out one thatâs inside of him.
Why should it be warm and bright and wonderful when something so cold and dark and ugly has made itself at home in his chest?
He doesn't want to feel this way, but heâs resigned. He knows itâs going to hurt, that itâs going to feel like heâs missing a limb.
Because he lost his person.
He lost him, and no one even knew that theyâd been together. No one knew that he woke up every morning with a broken heart and cried himself to sleep every night. No one knew that he drove across town every time the pain got to be too much to sit on a patch of new grass and cry.
Well, Max knows. She knows everything. The whole story. The beginning until the end. But he refuses to lean on her, or drag her out here every time he wants to go. Itâs the second time this week that heâs here, walking through the cemetery. Heâs here so much the caretaker knows him by name now.
No. This is something he does alone.
When he gets closer to his row, his breath hitches. And for a moment he thinks heâs seeing things, a ghost maybe, or a mirage, because his eyes have zeroed in on a figure standing in front of the headstone, back turned to him. A figure in faded blue jeans and a head full of blonde curly hair.
But no. He knows itâs not him. He's gone. He's been gone for over a month. And they are shorter than heâd been, and upon further inspection, itâs definitely the figure of a woman.
He wants to know who this person is, whoâs leaving something on his grave. Steve knows everyone that comes here.
His dad hasnât been back since they laid him in the ground, since he stood up in front of everyone and talked about how much he loved him. How proud he was of him. How sorry he was that this happened.
Maybe sorry that it hadnât been him that did it.
Steve tries not to think about Neil. When he does, rage consumes him, and he does stupid things. Like keying his truck. Or popping one of the tires. Or trying to punch him in the middle of the supermarket.
Itâs just⌠it's bad.
So he stops thinking about that asshole and focuses again on finding out who this is. He walks until he is standing beside her, and when she turns around it feels like all the air has been sucked out of his lungs.
Because it should be impossible, but Steve is staring into his eyes. And that's his mouth. His golden hair.
This womanâŚwho is standing here alone, crying over his grave⌠it can't be? ButâŚ
She startles a bit at the sound of his voice, but gives him a calculated look, as if sheâs sizing him up.
And God, that is the same too.
âAre you his friend?â She finally asks.
Friend. âSomething like that, yeah.â
She nods like she knows what that means, and turns back to the headstone. âHe didnât even tell me.â She says, and her voice is angry, bitter, âOur sonâŚÂ my child, died and he didn't tell me.â
Steve knows she means Neil, and he doesnât know why she is telling him this, but it doesnât really matter. Heâll listen. Because this is his mom, and he had loved her. He would have wanted Steve to stay.Â
âHe took him from me.â She cries, and furiously wipes tears from her eyes. Steve feels his stomach drop. âNeil didnât even want him. He just did it to punish me for leaving.â She looks over her shoulder. âHe probably never even knew that, did he? That I wasnât allowed to see him?â
He shakes his head, because he hadnât. Heâd told Steve that she left and didnât take him. Thatâs it. âNo.â
She makes a sound that he thinks is supposed to be a laugh. âIt figures. He probably told him I abandoned him. Made him believe that I didnât want him, but I do. More than anything. I tried to get him back. I tried so hard, but that bastard blocked me at every turn.â
âThe law wasnât on my side. I was nothing. A waitress living out of a motel. He had a house. A good job Money. It didnât matter to them that heâŚâ She pauses, âit just didn't matter to them.â
Itâs quiet for a moment, and he can hear her sniffling. âI was nothing." She says eventually, "But I loved him. It should have been enough.â Then her legs give out and sheâs kneeling, shaky fingers tracing the engraved letters of his name.
âHe was almost eighteen. Neil wouldnât have been able to stop me from seeing him anymore. So I was waiting. I was waiting.â Her shoulders shake and Steve can feel the heat behind his eyes. âAnd while I was waiting, my baby boy died." She chokes on a sob. âAnd I didnât even know.â
He doesnât try to stop the tears from falling. His chest feels like itâs breaking open. Feels like heâs losing him all over again, and he places his hand on her shoulder. He wants to say itâs just to comfort her, but itâs not. Itâs to anchor him too.
He wants to scream at the sky, the stupid beautiful, clear blue sky, because it shouldnât be him standing here consoling this beautiful broken woman. She shouldnât have to have a need to be consoled. She should be smiling and hugging her son, not crying over his grave.
"He was stolen from me. The life we could have had was stolen from us. If Neil would have justâŚlet me have him, maybe heâd still be alive. Maybe he wouldnât have died thinkingâŚthinking that I didn't⌠that I didn't love him.â
âHe knew.â Steve says softly, crouching down beside her. âHe may have thought you left, but he always knew you loved him.â
She just sobs harder and Steve wraps his arms around her, hugs her tightly, holds her like he knows he would have. And shit, his chest aches.
And he keeps holding her until his limbs are numb, until sheâs pats his back and pulls away. He sits down right where he is and listens to her taking deep breaths. He takes a few too.
âWas he happy?â She asks when the crying subsides. It sounds more like a plea to Steveâs ears.
âHe was when he was with me.â He answers, hoping heâs making the right call by telling her this. He keeps Neilâs bullshit to himself.
She hums, thoughtful. âYou loved him didnât you?â
âYes.â His throat tightens and his emotions threaten to spill out, because she doesnât sound angry. Would she have approved of them? Thereâs only one way to find out. âAnd heâŚhe never said it, but I could tell that he.. that he loved me too.â
âOnly his sister Max knew about us. People hereâŚthey âŚtheyâre not so open minded. And that was the hardest part. I had to⌠I had to stand there and pretend that we were nothing to each other. I had to pretend that he didnât take a part of me with him when he⌠I had to hold myself together and stuff down the urge to sob because it would have looked strange. It would have tipped off Neil, and I didnât want to end up decking him at his sons funeral.â
He sighs. âMaybe I should have. Maybe it would have made me feel better. Maybe it would have made everyone feel better. Heâs a fucking dick. But you already know that. More than any of us.â
He rubs at his eyes. âHeâs justâŚhe was more upset that Max was at the mall, than finding outâŚand I wasâŚI was there when it happened. Me and Max. We saw it and we couldn't do anything. We were helpless. And we climbed out of the wreckage of that lobby broken and traumatized, and the only thing he does is yell at her when he finally shows up. What the fuck is wrong with him?â
âA lot.â She replies.
He snorts in agreement before blurting out, âI keyed his truck. After the funeral.â
She looks a little surprised. âYou keyed his truck?â
âYeah. I just. I hate him. Like really really hate him,â God what an understatement. âand it was the easiest passive way to say fuck you.â
âI think I like you-â She stops and tilts her head, âOh, whatâs your name, hun?â
âI think I like you, Steve. "She extends her hand to him and he takes it. "Iâm Amelia.â
Her hand is small in his, âItâs nice to meet you.â He says honestly. âI just wish it was under different circumstances.â
Her mouth turns down and he knows sheâs barely holding it together. âYeah. Me too.â
They sit in a sad yet comfortable silence for a long time, until she abruptly stands up and brushes off her pants.
He shields his eyes from the sun as he looks up at her. âYouâre leaving?â
She gives him a slight smile. âYou came to be alone with him. I can come back later.â
âAt least let me walk you back to your car.â
She agrees so he gets up.
âYou staying here in town?â He asks, as they head back to where theyâre parked.
She nods, âAt least for a couple of days. Iâm at the Motel 6 off the highway.â
âWell, I haveâŚMax snuck me some of his stuff.â He tells her. Heâs been thinking about this for awhile. He thinks itâs the right thing to do. âYou can come look through them if you want? Take something back with you.â He canât keep them to himself, not anymore, not after meeting her. âAnd I have pictures. You probably donât have recent ones, right? You can have some of those too.â
She looks like sheâs going to burst out in tears again. âThat would beâŚthank you.â
He swallows the lump in his throat. âHeâd want you to have something.â
âYouâre a good boy, Steve. Iâm glad my son had someone like you here.â
He canât find the words to respond to that so he just gives her a tight smile and his number before he watching her leave between the iron gates.
Only then does he return.
But he doesnât sit when he gets there, just stands with the sun beating down on the back of his neck as he stares at the name that shouldnât be there.
âI met your mom.â He tells the silent granite. âAnd El was right, Billy.â He blinks back tears. âSheâs really pretty.â