Billy Hargrove x Fem! Byers Reader
Billy Hargrove, 18, older stepbro of Max! | Fem reader, 18, middle Byers child!
In a quiet and small town like Hawkins, reputations stick and she wears hers like gloss: pretty, effortless, untouchable. Cheer captain, golden girl, the kind of girl people think they understand at first glance. Billy Hargrove is everything she’s not supposed to want or even be close to—loud, reckless, impossible to ignore, with a reputation that burns hotter the closer you get. They’re not enemies. Not friends either. Just something in between—shared spaces, sharp words, lingering looks that last too long. A push and pull neither of them acknowledges, but neither of them walks away from. Secrets don’t stay hidden in a town like Hawkins. And the closer they get, the harder it becomes to pretend they’re just playing a game.
Genre: Romance (Slow Burn), Drama | High School & Coming-of-Age | Angst with Fluff undertones | Emotional Tension | Situationship Energy
Word count: Per chapter: 2,500 – 4,500 words
Full fic (estimate): 40,000 – 80,000 words
Trigger Warnings: Toxic & complicated relationship dynamics | Jealousy and possessiveness | Emotional tension | Manipulation | Strong language | Family dysfunction | Slow-burn with romantic frustration | Love triangle (Steve x reader! x Billy) for a while.
How many secrets can you keep?
Summary: A little introduction to you, Billy, your bond. And the issues on it, circles, expectations, secrets, jealousy…
Hawkins didn’t really change, it just rearranged itself depending on who was watching and what was convenient to be seen.
Under the fluorescent lights of Hawkins High, everything looks the same: lockers dented with years of teenage frustration, banners peeling slightly at the edges, the smell of cheap perfume tangled with sweat and whatever weird scents teenagers manage to create.
But when you walk through the halls, something shifts. Not dramatically, not like a movie scene where the world pauses, but subtly—like people unconsciously straightening their posture, like conversations lowering just a notch so they can catch your laugh when it comes.
You’re sunshine in motion. Blonde hair bouncing, glossed lips, your cheer uniform fitting you like it was made for you. And people assume things, they always do; people wouldn't be people if they did not made stupid assumptions. Like that you’re shallow, that you float through life like a feather, that everything comes easy. You let them think that, it makes things simpler.
It means no one expects you to notice everything.
And yet, you notice everything.
Like the way Billy Hargrove leans against his locker two rows down, pretending not to look at you.
Billy doesn’t do subtle. He does loud laughs, music even louder, engines revving in the parking lot like he has something to prove. He carries chaos like it’s stitched into his denim jacket, like it’s part of the deal of being him. Captain of the basketball team, king of reckless decisions, the kind of boy people, warn you about and then secretly hope will look their way.
You don’t fall into categories easily. But if you did, it would probably read something like: too smart to get involved with someone like Billy.
Which is funny because you’re not involved with him or his world. Not really.
You two end up at the same parties, in the same circles, on the same late night drives that end at lover's lake or the edge of nowhere. Hell, you two even talk, sometimes. Tease, always. There’s no softness, at least not in the way people expect.
There are no confessions whispered under stars, no shy glances across classrooms. Instead, it’s tension disguised as jokes, eye contact that lasts a second too long, words that mean more than what’s said.
Your friday had been going good, way too good. Walking down the hallway with Vickie as you listened to her ramble about some college boy she met on Tommy's last week party, that was at least until you heard a voice, he had taken way too long of the day to appear to bother.
“Careful, Byers.” Billy calls once when you pass by his locker, his voice smooth like he’s practiced sounding careless. “You keep walking around like that, people are gonna start thinking you’re trying to distract them.”
You don’t stop, don’t slow down. But you turn your head just enough, eyes bright, lips curling. “Please, Hargrove. If I were trying, you’d know it.”
And then you’re gone, leaving behind the faint trace of cherry perfume—and something harder to name. Something that makes Billy’s grip on his locker door tighten just a little.
No one really knows when it started, maybe it had always been there, from the moment Billy showed up in Hawkins back in 1984 like a storm that didn’t ask for permission. Or maybe it built slowly, layer by layer, glance by glance, until it became something neither of you could quite name.
Steve Harrington notices it, though.
He hovers around you in the way people do when they like you, easy smiles, casual conversations that last longer than necessary, the kind of attention that doesn’t demand anything but clearly wants something. He isn’t subtle about it either. And most days, you don’t mind. Steve is nice, predictable in a way that feels safe.
Not in an obvious way, he doesn’t pick fights every single day or make scenes, not outright. Instead, he performs, louder jokes when Steve’s around, sharper comments. The kind of playful drama that makes people laugh but carries an edge and it is noticeable if anyone’s paying attention.
Like last week, you were on the parking lot, waiting for Carol to stop sucking Tommy's soul out with a kiss, when something drew your attention.
“Hey, Harrington.” Billy had drawled as he tossed a basketball lightly from one hand to the other. “Didn’t know you were into cheerleaders now. Thought you had a thing for, I don’t know, girls who don’t outshine you.”
Steve frowned, confused more than anything, he had been bury saving his things on his car. “What’s your problem, man?”
You were leaning against Tommy's car, as you still waited, watching the exchange with quiet amusement. Your sunglasses were hiding your eyes, but your little smile had given you away. At least to Billy, damned him for always putting attention.
Billy shruged, easy, like none of it matters. “No problem. Just making conversation.” But his gaze flickered to you for a split second, just enough for you to catch it.
Back to the present, that night, at Tina’s party, everything was bluring into music, heat and bodies pressed too close together. You’re in the kitchen, red cup in hand, laughing at something someone says, your head tipping back just slightly.
And across the room, Billy is watching you, like he always does when he thinks no one notices.
He makes his way over, eentually, because of course he does. Even if he first had to drink, have a cigarette, entertain a few girls. Because orbiting only works for so long before gravity kicks in.
“Cherry Coke?” he asks, nodding at your cup.
You raise an eyebrow, startled but not surprised. “What, you think I can’t handle anything stronger?”
Billy smirks, leaning closer, just enough for his presence to feel intentional. “I think you like people thinking you can’t.”
Your smile doesn’t fade, but it changes, sharper now, more deliberate. “Maybe.” you add softly. “Or maybe I just don’t feel the need to prove anything.”
For a moment, the noise of the party dulls, like the world has stepped back to give you space. Billy tilts his head, studying you like you’re a puzzle he hasn’t decided whether he wants to solve or break. Or both, lately he has been feeling like he could throw you to the ground and then pick you up, slowly, fix you with love and tenderness. “Yeah.” he murmurs. “That sounds like you.”
There’s something dangerous about the way you’re standing there with him, not touching, not quite close enough to cross a line, but close enough to feel it. The kind of tension that doesn’t explode, it just stretches thinner and thinner with every passing second.
“Hey!” Steve’s voice cuts through, bright and oblivious.
You turn, just enough to acknowledge him. And in that small movement, the moment shifts, like a spell breaking. Billy steps back first, disappointed. He always does, or at least lately his stepping backs come with feelings.
“Go on.” he says lightly, already putting distance between you, his tone slipping back into something casual, a little harsh. “Wouldn’t want to keep your biggest fan of your club waiting.”
You look at him for a second longer than necessary. Then you smile, sweet, effortless, unreadable and turn towards Steve. But as you walk away to meet him in the half, you can still feel Billy’s eyes on you.
And somewhere between the music and the laughter and the heat of the room, something settles into place.
Not a beginning, not exactly.
More like a line drawn in the sand waiting for a wave to come erase it.
Steve says something when you reach him, something easy, something safe. You nod, barely catching the words, you just laugh at the right moment, let him hand you another drink like it’s normal, this is normal you keep thinking until you convince yourself. It’s what people expect.
Steve’s hand brushes yours when he passes the cup, he lingers a second too long and you let him, squeezing his fingers, playing into it.
Because it doesn’t mean anything.
But your attention drifts, it keeps drifting back across the room.
Billy hasn’t moved much, still leaning, still watching but not just you anymore.
There’s a girl next to him now, of course there is. Silly you thinking Billy could stay untouched all night.
She’s blonde, not just blonde, your kind of blonde, you are pretty sure it is even the same tone, the kind that catches light the same way yours does. Her hair falls in practiced waves, like she spent too long trying to make it look effortless, waves you could recognize everywhere, you did them every morning, her gloss shines too bright over some fake red lips, well a point in your favor, she used a tint but yours are naturally jucy and her posture is… familiar.
She laughs a second too late at whatever he says, like she’s learning the rhythm instead of feeling it. And then she tilts her head, the same way you do. Something in your chest tightens, Billy’s hand settles at her waist, casual, possessive to foreign eyes but you know him better, it is part of his one night stands enchant, he is testing her and when she leans into it like she’s been waiting for it, she thinks she’s already won something. He lets her. Smirks down at her, says something that makes her tilt her head back, all open throat and easy attention, he smiles cockily, as if he had won something bigger.
It shouldn’t matter, it really shouldn’t. But it does something ugly inside you, your guts twist, your heart beats faster. It is sharp, immediate. And you feel between throwing up or doing something stupid.
Probably the second, your head turns and Steve is still talking beside you, still warm, still easy and suddenly, without thinking, without planning, without giving yourself time to question it, you turn a little more, you grab his shirt and you kiss him.
Your lips tangle with his, not soft, not hesitant, deliberate. A statement.
Steve freezes for half a second before melting into it, hand coming up instinctively, like he’s been waiting for this exact moment, his hand is around you, caressing your waist as he deepens the kiss, you feel his tongue come out to play with yours, for a second, it feels right, you could even say you liked it, you give that to Steve, he is a great kisser.
There’s noise, someone whoops, someone laughs, you swear you even heard Tommy and Carol mumbling something like "finally" but you don’t put all the attention on it because your eyes flick open and you look across the room.
You don’t miss it, the way he goes still, the way his hand tightens at the girl’s waist, not pulling her closer, just, tightening. His jaw sets, something dark flickers across his face.
And for the first time tonight, you don’t look away first, you pull back from Steve slowly, like it meant something, like it could mean something.
“Woah.” Steve breathes, a little dazed, a little hopeful. “What was that?”
You smile, light, like it was nothing at all. “You talk too much, Stevie.”
But your heart is beating faster than it should. And across the room, Billy is not looking at anyone else anymore. It doesn’t last longer, Steve leans down again towards you, he smiles again, easy, warm. “C’mon, they’re starting a game outside.”
You let him pull you along, outside, the air is cooler, but it doesn’t help much.
The music still pulses through the walls, bass vibrating under your skin. People are gathered around, shouting, laughing, passing drinks like they’re currency.
Steve stays close, too close. His hand finds the small of your back at some point, casual enough that no one questions it, you two just kissed anyways, but it is still intentional. You don’t pull away but you also don’t lean in.
Everything tonight is a balance.
Someone says your name from across the yard. You turn, distracted for just a second, laughing when you notice is a drunk Tina and when you turn back, Billy’s still there, closer now, too close to be coincidence.
The girl from before is still with him, her hand hooked lazily around his arm like she belongs there, your stomach does that weird thing again, annoying, unnecessary. Billy’s eyes flick to Steve’s hand on your back, then to your face, then back again. There’s a pause, small, tight, electric.
“Didn’t peg you for party games, Harrington.” Billy says from his side on the garden, voice easy, but there’s something underneath it, something that doesn’t sit right.
Steve’s hand doesn’t move. “Didn’t peg you for sharing.” Steve shoots back, glancing at the girl hanging off Billy. A little detail, of course, that it makes you laugh, despite you know it makes you seem mean, the girl that Billy has perched on his side has been with... almost everyone of Hawkins high.
The girl laughs, not catching the edge. Billy does, of course he does, his jaw ticks, just slightly, but not in anger, he wants to laugh too but it would make him look worst of what people already think of him.
“Careful.” you cut in lightly, stepping just a little forward, your voice smooth but firm. “You two might actually start sounding like you care.”
Steve huffs a small laugh, pressing his fingers into your skin, Billy doesn’t, his gaze stays on you, too steady, too knowing.
“Maybe we do.” he mouths to you, and for a second, just a second, it doesn’t sound like a joke, even the air shifts. Again.
Like how it has been shifting since the morning.
The girl beside him shifts too, like she finally realizes she’s not part of whatever this is. “Billy, come on.” she says, whinning with such annoying voice, tugging his arm. “You said you’d get me another drink.”
He doesn’t move right away, still looking at you, like he’s waiting.
For what, you don’t know. Or you do, just don't want to say it out loud.
You tilt your head slightly, that same soft, unreadable smile slipping back into place. “Go.” you mouth back, teasing. “Wouldn’t want to disappoint her.”
Something flickers in his expression, annoyance, amusement maybe and he finally lets himself be pulled away. You don’t realize how much you’ve been holding your breath until he’s out of reach again. Steve exhales beside you. “What the hell is his problem?”
You shrug, light. “You’re asking me like I keep a manual or even understand him.”
But your eyes drift again, they always do.
Later, the night starts to blur, music louder, lights dimmer, people messier. You’ve had more to drink than you planned, yet you are conscious. It's not like you were drunk, you had planned on one beer but ended having two, three, you guess, not too much actually, not enough to lose control, just enough to loosen the edges.
Just enough to stop pretending you don’t notice things.
You’re back inside, the kitchen crowded again. Someone bumps into you and your drink sloshes dangerously close to the rim, you laugh it off. Until you see him again, Billy, different now, looser.
His hair more disheveled, his movements less controlled. The girl from earlier is closer, bolder, she’s practically pressed against him, whispering something into his ear, probably wanting Billy to visit her bed, like every other Hawkins guy. Yet, he grins, that same grin that gets under your skin.
And before you can think, you are moving. It’s not dramatic, not a storm. Just a straight line through the crowd, quiet and certain, and as you reach them, just as she laughs again, her hand sliding up his chest.
“Oops.” you say lightly and tip your cup deliberately, slowly, right into her. Cherry coke mixed with wine splashing over her hand, her shirt, her skirt, the moment freezes.
“What the—?” she snaps, jumping back.
You blink at her, wide-eyed, innocent. Batting your eyelashes as the girl behind you on the crowded kitchen bumps 'accidentally' again into you, helping you create a scene, backing you up. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry! People keep bumping into me tonight.” You say but you are not even looking at her, you’re looking at him.
Billy’s staring at you, nor surprised or confused, his eyes show something darker, something that looks a little too much like satisfaction.
The girl scoffs, muttering something under her breath before storming off. Billy didn’t even tried to help her, he was too entertained sharing glances with you. And just like that, you’re alone with him, again.
“Accident?” he asks, voice low.
You tilt your head. “What do you think?”
He lets out a quiet huff of a laugh, stepping closer, too close. Always too close. “I think…” he says, eyes dragging over your face like he’s trying to read something written there. “You don’t like sharing.”
Your pulse stutters, but your smile stays. “Funny.” you murmur. “I was about to say the same about you.”
For a second, it’s right there. That line, ready to snap.
And then “Angel!” Steve’s voice cuts in again, sharper this time, you step back instinctively, rewriting that careful line, Billy notices, his expression hardens, just a fraction. Steve moves to your side, eyes flicking between you and Billy. “Everything okay?” “Perfect” you answer back easily.
Billy snorts, stepping back himself now, snapping into place like it always does.
“Relax, Harrington.” he says, tone slipping back into careless. “We’re just talking.”
Steve doesn’t look convinced and neither of them move, it feels like something could actually happen. You step between them before it can. “Don’t.” you say softly, not really to either of them, but it works. The tension holds, then loosens. Barely.
Billy shakes his head once, like he’s shaking something off, Steve exhales and the moment passes.
By the time you step outside again, the night feels heavier, you lean against the railing, the cool air finally cutting through the heat in your skin. And for a second you’re alone.
Just you, your thoughts, the echo of everything that almost happened. Footsteps are heard behind you, you don’t turn 'cause you already know. Billy stops beside you, not too close this time, not touching, not quite.
“You always like this?” he asks.
You glance at him. “Like what?”
“Acting like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.” he chimmed back, batting his stupid long lashes as the moon makes his ocean eyes shine even more than normal.
You smile, slow. “Maybe I don’t.”
He huffs softly, looking out into the dark. “Yeah. Sure.”
The silence stretches, not empty, is never empty when the two of you are together.
“Why do you care?” you ask, quieter now.
He looks at you then, really looks. And for once, there’s no joke, no performance, appareances or expectations. Just something raw.
“I don’t.” he says but it lands wrong. You let out a quiet breath, shaking your head slightly. Don't know why it surprised you, though. “You always say that.”
“Because it’s true.” he mumbled nack, deffensive. “Is it?” you tilt your head, studying him now, the same way he studies you. “Then why are you here?”
His jaw tightens just a fraction. “It’s a party. I can stand wherever I want.”
“Yeah” you murmur. “But you’re not just standing, are you?”
That hits, you see it. The flicker, the anoyance at you, at himself, at all. Something hit closer to being called out, and he does not like that.
“You think everything’s about you.” he says, sharper now. You let out a small laugh, not amused, not really. You saw it coming, he gest defensive every single time. “You’re the one who won’t stop watching me.”
“I wasn’t watching you.” he answers, way too fast. “Right.” you nod, like you believe him. “And those girls inside? Just random wanna be's, huh?” That lands harder than you expected. His expression shifts, not defensive, it is worse now.
“What, you keeping track?” he shoots back. “Thought you were busy with Harrington.”
There it is, what had been boring him all night. You straighten slightly, the railing cool against your back.
“Maybe I was.” you say, light but edged. “At least he doesn’t pretend he doesn’t care.”
Billy lets out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “You think that’s better?”
“I think it’s honest.” you chim, sighing as the cold air hits your bare back. “Oh, that’s funny.” he mutters, stepping a little closer now, not touching but closer than before. “You don’t get to talk about honesty.”
Your brows lift slightly. “Excuse me?” and before you can say more, he continues. “You play both sides.” he says, quieter now, but sharper. “Act like you don’t want anything, but you don’t walk away either.” Your pulse spikes. “You’re one to talk.” you fire back. “You keep pulling people in just to see if they’ll stay.”
“At least I don’t pretend it’s something it’s not.” he retorts, his fits closing. “And what is this, then?” you press, your voice dropping, stepping forward just enough to close the distance he created. “Huh? Since you’re so sure.”
There’s a beat of silence, a dangerous one, his gaze drops to your lips then back up.
“You tell me.” he murmurs.
Your breath catches but you don’t back down. “You’re the one who said you don’t care.”
“And you believed me?” he said back, taking one step more, his hand coming to your waist. That throws you off, just for a second, enough for him to notice and smile but not cockily as before, he leans in slightly, not enough to touch you more than what his hand is already, just enough to make the space feel smaller.
“That’s on you.” he adds quietly. Your jaw tightens. “You’re such a—” you stop yourself, exhaling sharply. “You know what? Forget it.” You push off the railing, like you’re about to walk away, like you’re done with him but hs hand catches your wrist, fast.
Not rough, never rough. He knows how easily you bruise, how you are so precious, to be taken care of, yet ironically his touch is firm, enough to stop you and it is enough to make your breath hitch.
“Don’t.” he says, you look down at his hand, then back up at him.
“Don’t what?” You retort.
“Walk away like that.” He says, softening.
“Why?” you challenge. “Thought you didn’t care.”
His grip tightens just slightly but he does not reply, he can't find the words to retort that.
“You’re unbelievable.” you whisper.
“Yeah.” he breathes back. “You still haven’t left.” And that’s the problem because he’s right, you don’t pull away.
Instead, you tilt your head slightly, eyes locked on his. “You gonna make me?” you murmur.
There’s a pause, a long one, his hand loosens, not letting go, just, shifting. It slide slightly from your wrist to your hand, different, closer to have your hand and his intertwined.
All of this is being more intentional and that scares you.
“Come on.” he says after a second, softer now.
“Where?” you ask, even though you already feel it.
“Inside” he replies, then adds lower. “Before you change your mind.”
You don’t answer, you just let him pull you.
There’s a door slightly open at the end of the hallway beside you. A bedroom, dark, empty or at least it looks like it. You don’t say anything, neither does he. But somehow you both move inside. The door clicks shut behind you, and the music dulls instantly, like the world just took a step back to watch. It’s just the two of you, finally.
Your back brushes the wall without you meaning it to, he walks closer until he is caging you in. Of course he does.
“Still don’t care?” you ask, softer now, the words slipping out before you can adress them up.
He exhales through his nose, shaking his head once, like you’re a problem he hasn’t figured out how to solve. “You really wanna play that game right now?”
“Maybe I’m tired of games.” you murmur.
“You don’t look tired.” he says, voice dropping, eyes dragging over your face like he’s mapping it out. “You look like you’re waiting for something.”
You tilt your head, your lips curving. “Careful, Hargrove. You keep guessing like that, you might accidentally be right one of this times.”
A quiet, breathy laugh leaves him, but it’s not amused, it’s something tighter. “Yeah?” he murmurs. “And what happens if I am?”
Your pulse stutters but you don’t move. “Guess you’ll find out.”
His hand comes up again, it finds your waist, somehow pulling you closer, just enough that the space between you disappears completely. Your breath catches and his thumb presses slightly into your side, like he’s testing whether you’ll pull away.
“See…” he murmurs, leaning in just enough that his voice brushes your lips, “that’s the problem with you.”
“Oh?” your voice comes out softer than you meant it to.
“You act like you don’t care...” His gaze flickers down, then back up, slower this time. “But you keep showing up.”
Your fingers curl slightly against the wall behind you. “And you…” you whisper back “act like you don’t want me to.”
“Maybe I don’t.” he says. A lie, you both hear it and giggle together,just a little.
And then he moves, not to your lips, not yet. His head dips, slow, deliberate, giving you time to stop him but you don’t.
His mouth brushes your jaw first, testing. Your breath hitches and his hand tightens at your waist. And then, he lowers to your neck, his kisses are warm, intentional. Not rushed, not messy, not as how he usullay is. It's soft, caring in a way that makes it worse.
Your head tilts back before you can stop it, giving him more space, more access, like your body decided before your brain could argue. “Still don’t care?” he murmurs, teasing back against your skin, voice rougher now. You swallow. “Not even a little.”
His fingers press into your side again, pulling you in just a fraction more.
Your hands, you don’t even remember moving them but suddenly they’re there, one brushing his jacket, the other catching lightly at his shirt like you need something to hold onto.
His mouth drifts back up, slow, unhurried, like he’s taking his time on purpose, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. And which, to be honest, he probably knows.
Your pulse is loud, too loud. His lips hover just at the corner of your mouth, he takes a pause, a second.
He tilts his head, you lean in...
A drunk couple stumbles in, tangled together, laughing too loud, too careless. You jerk back instantly, breath catching hard. While Billy swears under his breath, stepping away like the moment burned him, hand dragging through his hair in sharp frustration.
The couple freezes when they finally notice you. “Oh shit, sorry.” the guy slurs, clearly not sorry at all. "We didn’t noticed, keep going!"
“Get out.” Billy snaps, voice cutting through the room, all edge now. They scramble out, still laughing, the door slamming shut behind them.
Silence crashes back in but it’s wrong now.
The tension doesn’t disappear and you don’t move right away, neither does he.
Your chest is still rising a little too fast and his gaze drops to your lips again, then to your neck and then back up. Like he’s replaying it, like he’s deciding something.
“Of course.” he mutters, almost to himself. You let out a small breath, trying to steady yourself, smoothing your clothes like that’ll fix anything.
“Guess we’re bad at timing.” you say, light, but it lands heavier than you meant it to.
He lets out a quiet, humorless laugh, shaking his head. “No.” he says, glancing at you again, something sharper in his eyes now. “We’re just good at almost.”
That hits, you step toward the door, hand resting on the handle. You take a pause, don’turn to see him. “Next time.” you add softly, almost teasing, almost not. “Try not to hesitate.”
His breath hitches behind you, then, “I didn’t” he replies.
You don’t give yourself time to think about it, you open the door and leave.
The night spills on around you like nothing happened but everything feels different now.
You find Steve again eventually, he’s waiting, like he said he would, like he always does.
He smiles when he sees you, softer this time, searching your face like he’s trying to read something there. “Ready to go?” he asks. You nod and you don’t look back.
As you pull away in Steve's car, is now when you do look back, just once and Billy’s there, leaning against the house now, arms crossed, jaw tight, watching, not pretending anymore. His gaze follows the car, follows you. And for a second it almost feels like something’s going to break. Like he might end chasing the car like in those silly romance movies you watch.
And you turn forward again.
Billy stays exactly where he is for a long moment after the car disappears. Someone calls his name from behind him, the girl from earlier, closer, reaching for his arm, smiling like the night is still hers to win but he doesn’t even look at her.
“Not tonight.” he mutters, pulling away before she can touch him properly.
She frowns, confused. “What?”
He shakes his head once, sharper this time. “Just no.”
Because he already knows, taking someone else home would feel like a lie.
And he’s already had enough of those nights, so he stays alone with his eyes still fixed on the empty road where the car disappeared. Fighting the feeling in his chest knowing you are going back home with Steve.
The night gave him something and took it right back before he could keep it and prove he was worth of it.
The drive is quieter than it should be, full. Like there are too many things sitting unsaid between you and the dashboard lights, flickering softly against Steve’s profile as he drives. He glances at you once, twice, like he’s waiting for something. You keep your gaze out the window, watching the streetlights blur into long golden lines, letting the hum of the engine fill the space where your thoughts are too loud.
Damned Billy, you can still feel it, feel him in your neck, the ghost of his mouth. The way he said I didn’t.
Your fingers curl slightly in your lap and before your thoughts could go wilder, “Hey.” Steve says softly, pulling you back. “You’re really quiet.”
You turn just enough to smile at him. “Just tired, guess everything's catching up on me.” He nods, accepting it too easily, of course he does. That’s the thing about Steve, he doesn’t push where it might hurt.
When the car pulls up outside your house, the world feels, slower, softer. Like the night is finally exhaling and letting you breath.
Steve walks you to the door, like always, as if the mere idea of ever letting you walk from the car to the entrance, alone, it’s a deathly sin. His hand brushes yours again, hesitant this time, like he’s not sure what tonight changed, only that it did and he feels it.
“Angel…” he says, stopping just short of the porch light. “About earlier…”
You tilt your head, playing it light. “What about it?”
A small smile tugs at his mouth, a little nervous, a little hopeful. “That kiss...”
There it is, you hold his gaze for a second, just long enough to make it real. “Do you wanna… stay for a bit?” you offer, like it’s nothing. Changing the subject, like it doesn’t mean anything more than keeping the night from ending too fast. Like this won’t make Steve's hope go way higher.
His expression brightens instantly. “Yeah… Yeah, sure.”
Inside, everything feels too still compared to the party, you kick off your shoes, tossing your bag aside, moving on autopilot more than anything. Steve lingers for a second before following, watching you like he’s trying to catch up to wherever all is.
You grab two glasses of water without thinking, handing him one. “Hydration, we can not wake up hung over.” you say lightly.
He huffs a small laugh. “You always this responsible after parties?”
“Only when I care...” You whisper back.
He smiles and you don’t miss the way he looks at you. How could you? It's soft and charged. For a second, you almost wish things were simpler.
He steps closer, but slowly, like he’s giving you time to pull away. You don’t, his hand comes up, brushing a strand of hair from your face, fingers lingering just a second too long against your cheek.
Your breath catches, he leans in, gentle, warm, he is such a gentleman and that breaks your heart more.
His lips brush yours, and you try, you kiss him back just enough to not make it a lie. It works, for a while. But as his hand starts to slip from your waist, squeezing the lower flesh,you pull back first, subtle, very careful to not break his heart.
“Hey…” you say back, softly, a small apologetic smile slipping into place. “I think, I’m not in the mood for more tonight...”
He pauses, searches your face and you don’t let anything slip.
“I think it’s the drinks…” you add, light, almost laughing. “Feel not so steady.”
It’s smooth, believable, he exhales slowly, nodding. “Yeah, no, that’s—yeah, that’s okay.” And he means it, that’s the worst part, he could never force you to anything. He steps back, giving you space instantly, like he’d never take more than you’re willing to give.
“Do you still want me to stay?” he asks, softer now. You hesitat, just for a second and then nod. “Yeah. Just, stay. We can go cuddle...”
Being alone feels like a louder decision right now. A different night you wouldn't have minded that Jonathan and Will were at the Wheeler's, one with Nancy, the other with Mike. And that Joyce was working extra shifts again.
Steve falls asleep easier than you do, after a few minutes, maybe an hour, you sit up instead, slow, careful not to wake him. The room is dim, quiet and your heartbeat louder than it should be.
You step outside and reach for the phone, stare at it. This is a bad idea, a terrible idea, you thought. You dial anyway, it rings once, twice and when the third one is about to come, a click.
There is silence, you regret it and as you are about to hang up.
His voice, it's lower than before, rough around the edges, like you dragged him out of something or the night just didn’t settled for him either.
You don’t speak right away, exhale, once, twice.
“Couldn’t do it.” you say finally, barely above a whisper.
There’s a pause on the other end, confusion at first to what you meant and then, recognition, he couldn’t do it too. And he was waiting to hear exactly that.
You swallow as your fingers tighten around the phone. “I thought I could. But I—” you exhale softly, shaking your head even though he can’t see it. “I didn’t want to say the wrong name.”
A quiet breath from him, something like the before of a forming smile you can hear. “Would’ve been a problem.” he says, voice low, almost amused.
You close your eyes for a second. “Don’t.” you murmur, softer now.
“Don’t what? You are the one who called because you couldn’t.” He mumbles, trying to not be unbearable.
“Don't sound like you’re enjoying that.” you whisper, small, vulnerable.
He takes a small pause, then a quiet huff of a laugh comes from the other side. “'M not enjoying it, 'M just not surprised.”
You bring the phone closer to your ear and lower your voice. “You’re so sure of yourself.”
“Not really.” Billy replies. “Just sure about you, that's why you ended calling me, anyways.”
Your breath catches, you hate that it does. You hate that he knows what to say and how to say it. “…Don’t” you say again, weaker this time.
“Yeah…” he murmurs, softer now, like he’s leaning into the quiet with you. “You always say that.”
And that’s when it hits, this isn’t new. Not entirely and you hate yourself more for it, all the late-night calls, the almosts that don’t stay in the same room, the things you don’t say out loud anywhere else but do tell him when it’s just the two of you through the phone.
“You didn’t take her home.” you say, it’s not a question.
“None of them.” he answers, still, confirming what you thought. “Told you I wouldn’t.”
Your chest tightens again, you press your fingers lightly to your neck without thinking. Yet is like he knows you too well, as if he were by your side.
“Still feel it?” he asks.
You don’t answer, you don’t have to cause then he is mumbling again “Thought so.”
The silence in the line stretches again, it's thicker now.
“You should sleep.” you say finally, though your voice doesn’t carry much conviction.
“'M not tired, yet.” he retorts, stretching the conversation.
Then, he sighs, making his voice a little deeper, even more intentioned. “Dream of it tonight.” he adds.
“Pretend, pretty girl.” he keeps, velvet voice making you dizzier, crazier.
“What?” you whisper, barely there.
“You heard me…” he says quietly. “When you think about tonight, when you go to sleep, when you close your eyes and remember it, don’t stop where we did.”
Your pulse is loud in your ears, you shouldn’t be listening but you are. And you are getting ideas that are making you warm, way too warm. You squeeze your legs, half conscious. “Billy—”
“Just imagine it.” he continues, softer now, like he’s right there instead of miles away. “No interruptions, no one walking in. No Harrington waiting in the next room... Imagine all we could have done...”
You swallow, your voice coming out smaller than you want it to. “You’re such a…”
“Problem?” he offers.
You almost laugh, almost. Instead you have to bite your lips to not let out a breathy moan. “Yeah.”
“Funny.” he says, “I was gonna say the same about you.” his side of the line stays silent, until “You gonna keep pretending you don’t want it?” he asks after a moment.
Your eyes flick to your room, where Steve is soundly asleep, trusting, hopeful. Then back to nothing in particular, back to the dark. “I never said say that.” you whisper.
“No.” Billy replies, just as quiet. “You didn’t.”
“Go to sleep.” you say again, softer now. Shifting the topic. “You’re the worst, Billy...”
“Yeah.” he says, not even arguing it. “But you still called me.”
That lingers, you don’t answer, you don’t hang up either. But Billy does it for the both of you.
For a few seconds, it’s just your breathing again. Finally, you pull the phone away, walk back to your room and lie back down slowly, careful. Your fingers tried to drift to your neck again but you go still and instead decide to press your face into Steve's chest, sighing as his hands go to wrap around you.
Your eyes close and even when you try not to, you don’t stop where the night ended.
Somewhere, across town, Billy isn’t sleeping.
He is trying not to be loud as he takes care of himself, since his dad, Susan and Max are home. But how hard is it when all he can picture is all what you two could have done tonight.
