The Harrington house is haunted. Billy knows it as soon as he’s a mile shy of Hawkins, Indiana. He doesn’t understand what he’s feeling until he meets him.
Steve Harrington.
And Billy feels like he’s going nuts - more...just more than usual - because Steve Harrington is an orphan, but no one else in town seems to know about it -
“Shine.”
Billy hurt his neck, looking over his shoulder too fast at the guy on the opposite lane of the school parking lot. Steve leaned against the trunk of his car as if he were waiting for someone. “Excuse me?”
“My mom calls it Shine. You shine too. That’s why you’re always staring at me. That, or...”
Steve cocked his head a little, letting his knee wag back and forth while he smiled almost bashful. Mostly mischievous. Billy wanted to strangle him. Or kiss him. And the bastard knew.
Billy kept his face expressionless - which really just meant he looked angry all the time - and unlocked his own car. “I don’t know your mom, and I don’t know you. King Steve.”
“Well, that cancels each other out, doesn’t it?”
Now Max was arriving at the passenger-side door. Great. “Whatever. Later.”
“You can come over some time. It’s not like some of the other black holes around the country.”
Billy ducked out of his car from where he’d been throwing his satchel into the backseat. In his periphery, he could see Max feigning annoyance while looking between them. “Excuse me?”
“I’m saying, you feel it. But you don’t have to be scared of it. I won’t hold you up, she’s starving. I swear they put sawdust in the school’s meatloaf.”
Billy glanced at Max, whose mouth parted in silent surprise. He watched some girl - Buckley, he knew without knowing - get into Steve’s car as he took his place behind the wheel.
And Billy hated that he did show up at that house. Large and impressive, just like the rest of the luxury side of town. The bastard made him wait. Billy stood like a loon at the door, expecting it to open before he finally caved and rang the bell. Then he waited some more.
He heard the rushed footfalls before Steve whisked it open. His hair was wet, unstyled, and he had a towel hanging from his neck, like he’d only managed to get dressed after the shower.
“Hey! Sorry, I was in the shower. Robin doesn’t shine, so she wouldn’t know to get the door for you.”
“Stop calling it that,” Billy exclaimed in a low, dangerous purr. He stepped inside and smelled the telltale fragrances of conditioner, soap, and laundry detergent. Clean things. “You sound like a lunatic.”
“Is that the best you can do?” he smiled, rubbing the towel over his hair. “Come on. I can’t cook, but Robin keeps me alive.”
Billy sighed, following into the open floor-plan kitchen, living room, and dining area. Billy felt sick to his stomach; residual aches from being ripped from his home in California, the sickly terror of a new place with new unknowns, and the bizarre whiplash of being with and talking to someone with such familiarity. He and Steve had only exchanged words before that parking lot exchange.
He rounded the corner and locked eyes with Robin Buckley. “So you know about all this?”
She planted her hands wide on the counter and warned, “Don’t expect me to read your mind. Talk to me like a regular person.”
Steve explained, “She hates it when I talk inside her head. But you’re getting used to it, right?”
“How many times have I almost bashed your head in?”
“Twice.”
“Oh,” Billy scoffed. “Only twice. Am I supposed to be friends with you two?”
Steve shrugged as if he’d been hurt by that question. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. But - uhm...at the risk of, uh...”
Billy’s eyes narrowed at him until Robin sighed and picked up, “Obviously the dingus can see right through people. He used to get into fights for letting his mouth run. He knows how to shut up now, but he doesn’t know how to offer help.”
Billy felt so tired and said as much. “I just got here. Talking to you people is like running a mile per sentence.”
Steve intercepted, “Then chef!” He clapped his hands twice like an idiot. “What’s the menu?”
Robin huffed a laugh like she hated him with a great deal of fondness. “Mac and cheese, dingus. And salad.”
Billy was surprised and grateful for how quickly they dropped the subject in favor of letting him rest and eating. For some reason, he didn’t expect Steve to like salad. He had a mixture of arrogance and childishness to him that warranted a dislike of green things. But he moved between both of his bowls with equal gusto while he and Robin urged Billy into conversation of other things.
Where he was from? What was his favorite thing to do there? What’s the drive across country like?
The food was good. Billy wanted a beer to wash it down -
“That’s not a good idea.”
Billy looked at Steve while Robin peered between them before shaking her head. “There he goes.”
Billy smirked threateningly. “What’s a bad idea?”
“Drinking. It messes up your shine.”
“That’s the point, numb nuts.”
“I know that’s the point,” Steve suddenly growled. “Who do you think holds the keg record in this stupid town?”
Robin looked up at the kitchen lights glowing too brightly. “Steve.”
Billy’s tongue moved over his teeth, cleaning them as he stacked his bowls and Steve slowly recoiled with a grumbled, “Sorry.”
“Pfft. You want to help me? With what? You look like a powder keg. Thanks for the food. Don’t invite me again.”
Except Billy stood up...
And stared at two people in the foyer opening. They stood silently, holding hands and gazing tranquilly back at him.
Suddenly, Steve was in front of him, chanting, “Sorry, sorry, sorry. Mom! This is Billy Hargrove. He’s fine, he’s just new. It’s fine.”
Mom.
She moved slowly. Towing what must have been her dead husband behind her, they walked toward the living room. The man seemed uninterested. The woman had the same eyes as her son, and they did not blink while gazing at Billy. Even as the pair sat on the couch, her head just kept turning to keep her eyes on him, until she sat like an owl, head turned all the way around to see him.
“She’s doing that on purpose to scare you,” Steve tried to reassure. “I know it’s. It’s a lot.”
“It’s fucked up, is what it is,” he bit out.
Steve held his hands out placatingly. “I just want you to know that you can come here. At any time - ”
“Why the hell would I come here? You’re holding onto your dead parents like their souls won’t rot and take this whole neighborhood with it. Do you know what this town feels like because of you?”
“That’s not me! My mom had shine too. That’s why she’s strong, but souls don’t necessarily evaporate when the body dies. That’s what’s dangerous. Just - whatever. I won’t bother you. Just don’t go into the woods. Don’t go into the burned down library.”
“Why?” Billy asked flatly. “Who died there?”
“People like us. People who shine. People who eat shine. People who wanted to understand it and took it without permission. That library is what you feel. Not me. Me and my parents - and now you - we’re what keep this place a star instead of feeding that black hole. Just don’t go there.”
Billy could only stare at him, horror struck. He’d never heard anything like it - he barely tolerated admitting his abilities, let alone processing that it could be taken and...eaten.
“You don’t have to tell me twice. I’m only in this shit hole as long as I have to be.”
Robin spoke up. “What’s that saying? Something like, ‘When you gaze into oblivion, the darkness gazes back at you.’”
Steve sighed and reiterated, “Just, if you ever feel something that is...stranger than usual. Something that you can’t trust. Maybe you want to trust it but something in you knows you shouldn’t, come here. Straight here. No turns and don’t look back until you’re in here and the door is shut. Bring Max if you need to, that’s okay.”
“You just explained how I feel about you, Harrington.”
The guy smiled like he’d been expecting that and was proud of himself. “You wanna know why it’s called shine?”
Billy heavily considered slapping him with some smart aleck response. But he took too long considering and Steve finished, “Ever been in a pitch black room with a lighter? It’s like the darkness could eat that flame right up. But it doesn’t, because it can’t. The smallest spark only shines brighter with more darkness. It’s okay that you feel dark. That doesn’t mean you don’t shine. Light can feed on darkness too, if you do it right.”
“You just waxed poetic about pyrotechnics, shit bird.”
Steve absorbed that and tilted his head. “Yeah, well. More than one building has had to burn down in this town. But I’m still standing.”
