#implied harringrove

Lucas joins them sometimes, only because if he doesn’t, he rarely gets to see Max at all. She’s taken to being his caretaker, even if Billy growls at her to knock it off some days, gritting his teeth around aches and pains.

Lucas gets to hang out with Max alone more when Steve takes up the mantle of keeping Billy company. He seems pretty huffy about it at first, but there’s a strange air around them as time goes by. Like they’re slowly melding into one person, one entity. Much like how Robin and Steve were RobinandSteve these days, joined at the hip, Billy and Steve were becoming BillyandSteve. One was rarely seen without the other.

Lucas was pretty sure Steve was the only one allowed to physically touch Billy when he was off in his own head or out of breath, whether from panic or physical exertion. Max would get her hand chewed off if she tried.

There’s a softer, heavier side to Billy Hargrove these days, and Lucas isn’t sure how to feel about it. There’s a big difference between the scary, looming shadow of Billy from that night at the Byers, or his time possessed, and this wounded, tired version. A Billy that wears cashmere sweaters to cover his scars and stay warm (I hate the fuckin’ winter, he spits once to Max, ignoring Lucas’ presence as per usual, I can’t stand the cold anymore.) and lives alone in an apartment paid for by the government to keep his mouth shut.

Lucas’ lungs burn as he steps off the court. It’s just practice, he’s still sitting on the bench, but he’s working towards getting off it. He’s praying for it.

The click of the cane is what alerts him of his presence. It’s a strangely familiar sound now, one that gets slotted into the Billy Sounds part of his brain, next to the grunt the guy makes that’s almost a laugh but not.

“You’re not half bad, Sinclair. Almost as good at Steve was.” It’s still weird, hearing Billy call Steve by his first name. Harrington had sounded like a taunt, a challenge, now…Steve sounded like a good natured tease. Fond, like he was talking about his favourite song.

Lucas really doesn’t get Billy Hargrove.

“I don’t know if Steve played dirty, but he told us you did, so I don’t think you can judge how good he was.” It’s not a jab so much as a defence on Steve’s behalf. Max loves her brother, a complicated kind of love that hurts some days and feels great others, but Lucas loves Steve.

He loves Max too. It’s the only reason he’s trying to see Billy the way she does.

Billy laughs at his words. In the past, he thinks the man may have scowled or sneered or laughed at him instead of what he said.

“He’s just mad I was better. It’s fine, he can beat me now.” He leaned heavily on his cane with a weary sigh and stares at Lucas a long moment. “Can we talk, Sinclair?”

His expression gives little away and it makes Lucas’ hackles rise subconsciously. He looked down at the basketball in his hands, fidgeting with it as he tossed it back and forth between his palms.

“Can this wait until after I’ve showered or…?” He placed the basketball in the trolley of other balls, wanting to put off the inevitable.

Billy sighed, reaching up to scratch at his brow.

“It’s a bad pain day, honestly, I just wanna sit and get this sorted so I can go back home and kick my feet up before someone hounds me about pushing my limits.” He rolled his eyes and Lucas had a good idea who that someone was.

He wiped his sweaty palms against his shorts and shrugged.

“Yeah, okay.” Billy manages a small smile, but it feels disingenuous with the way he tilts his chin down and turns around with it, hobbling his way over to the benches. Most of everyone had scattered to shower and head home.

Billy made to sit and gave a grunt, seeming to struggle for a moment. Lucas offered his hand out of habit and Billy scowled at it. With his lips tightly pursed and a tinge of sweat on his brow, he glared up at Lucas. Lucas thinned his own lips self consciously, prepared to drop his hand before Billy’s eyes softened and he huffed, clasping Lucas’ hand hard — his palm is clammy, a weird mix of cold sweat and hot skin — and lowering himself against the low bench with a grunt. He rested his cane across his lap and sighed heavily.

He looked worn thin already and it made Lucas feel guilty despite doing nothing wrong. Billy had made the decision to come all the way out here to talk. That wasn’t on Lucas. Billy could make his own decisions, could decide how much his body could take and how far he could go alone before needing a hand. Billy was as tough as nails as far as Max was concerned, even if Steve sometimes spoke of Billy as if he was fragile. Lucas didn’t know who was closer to the truth of it. Maybe they both were.

“Come on, sit, I’m starting to feel self conscious here.” Billy joked with a low chuckle, patting the spot beside him. Lucas took the offer, keeping his limbs closer to his centre. Not wanting to touch Billy. Not wanting to appear bigger than him even if he had been given a significant growth spurt in the past few months.

He didn’t want to appear smaller either thought, so he let himself sit up straight, even with his hands tucked between his bouncing knees.

“So…let’s talk?” Lucas prompted and Billy chuckled once more.

“Shit, where to begin?” He scrubbed a hand over his face, wiping the sweat from his (pinched) brow, the movement subtle.

There was a long silence as Billy thought, and Lucas let him. He felt sticky and gross with sweat, mildly self conscious about how he might smell, but he wasn’t going to push Billy. Not just because he was volatile in the past, but because he looked like he really wanted to say this right. That he wanted Lucas to really hear him.

“…I’m sorry about last year.” Billy said finally and Lucas turned his head so quickly that he heard something in his neck crack.

“What?” Lucas furrowed his brows. “Last year?”

“A few months over a year, but close enough.” Billy shrugged, shifting in his seat to cross his arms over his chest and lay back against the benches above them. It doesn’t look comfortable, but Billy never looks comfortable. “That night. At the Byers place. I’m sorry.”

Lucas stared at him, unable to form a word. He never expected an apology, if he was honest. People rarely apologised to him in general. Especially about bullying or threats.

“Wow. This must be really for you to say. I’ve never heard you say sorry unless you were dying.” It’s snarkier than he wanted it to be and he immediately wants to hurl himself off a bridge for the comment. Billy’s gonna beat his ass with his cane for that.

Billy just laughs.

“You’re such a snarky shit, you’re just like Max.” He clicked his tongue and shook his head. “I mean it though, Sinclair. And I know…I should have should have said something sooner.”

“Why didn’t you then?” Lucas challenged and Billy huffed, looking frustrated.

“Because I didn’t realise back then what I did was wrong.” Billy’s scowl is only deepening and Lucas is prepared to be the one he punches to let out steam. “I don’t know how much Max told you…about my dad.”

Lucas’ stomach churned.

“Not a lot. Just that he…that he wasn’t a good dad.” He can’t look at him when he says it. It just makes him think of Patrick who rocked up to practice with a black eye last week. He hadn’t been able to say anything, voice stuck in his throat, heart hammering in his chest. He wasn’t sure if anything he said would even help. If Hopper were alive…

But he wasn’t. Billy’s revival had been a miracle in itself.

“Understatement of the year.” Billy huffed a soft, bitter laugh. He licked his dry lips and continued. “That night…He smacked me around because Max disappeared. And I knew, I knew you and your friends had something to do with it. I was angry, I was looking for a fight, kid. And you…you were an easy target.” Billy admitted, a thousand yard stare in his blue eyes.

“Cause I was black, right?” Billy huffed out though his nose and half nodded his head to the side, as if he wasn’t entirely sure himself.

“It was a lotta things, Sinclair. Partially, yeah, cause you were black. My dads never favoured your ‘kind’. Nothing visceral, just underhanded comments. Casual, normal.” He rolled his eyes and Lucas’ stomach squirmed. “I had friends of all different races, Sinclair, growing up. It was California. But I knew not to bring them home unlike Max. By the time I was your age, I avoided them all together to save my ass trouble.” He sucked on his teeth, like he was annoyed at his younger selves cowardice.

“I had a friend, anxious guy who really mellowed out after a little weed. So smart but so strange in how he applied it. He knew all kinds of tips and tricks…” His expression softened into something almost sad. “He was the closest thing to an actual friend I ever had. But he was Hispanic. I never let him near my house, and at fifteen…I dropped him. Because my dad found out, and threatened to blow his head off his shoulders because he thought I was in love with him. A dirty Mexican who was stealing peoples jobs.” Billy scoffed and shook his head. Lucas tried not to visibly wince.

“So yeah. I did target you for being black. For being different. Because my dad doesn’t like different, and I grew to accept the same.” Billy shrugged. “I didn’t know any better back then, but I still did it. And it was shitty of me. You didn’t deserve that, you were a kid.” Lucas’s heart clenched, constricting tightly in his chest. He wasn’t going to cry, but he could feel the burn in the back of his eyes.

“Thanks.” Was all he could say, picking at his nails.

“And I…I was scared for Max when you kept getting so close to her, if I’m honest.”

“Scared? For Max?” Lucas furrowed his brows in confusion before huffing with a small scowl, looking away. “Let me guess, you assumed because I’m black, I’m aggressive, right? A hoodlum?”

“Surprisingly, that wasn’t why.” Billy chuckled, sardonic and rumbling low in his throat. “You know how my dads a dick?”

“Yeah…?”

Billy grinned but there was no humour in it.

“Whenever Max came back to me after talking to you, she was either upset or being secretive.” Billy reached for his pocket like he wanted a cigarette but he had been forced to quit and he looked annoyed by coming up empty handed, clicking his tongue.

“I learned pretty young, Sinclair, that boys who make girls upset, one day turn into men who will hurt those girls who have become women.” Billy turned his gaze to Lucas, his expression like steel. “You were my target that night because Max cared about you. I wanted you to stay away from her not just because you were black, but because Max, no matter how angry, can’t hurt someone she loves. And I thought, she might not fight back if you hurt her one day.” He was staring into Lucas’ very soul, the rims of his eyes growing pink as tears threatened to dampen his fierce gaze.

“I let her keep seeing you because she proved she could handle herself. But if I ever see her with a single bruise, ‘you’re dead’ won’t just be a phrase. It’ll be a promise.”

“I would never hurt Max.” Lucas can say it with intention, with purpose, because it’s true. There wasn’t a cruel bone in his body. He’d rather die than put a hand on Max. He loved her, and he wanted to make her happy, like how his father made his mother happy. He wanted Max to never want for anything. That much he knew.

“…I know.” Billy finally looked away, looking like he regretted even threatening the possibility. After a long moment of staring into nothing, Billy spoke once more.

“Max likes you. And…so does Steve. I didn’t wanna keep tip toeing around everything that happened between us. So I’m sorry. I…hope we can start fresh. Or keep doing whatever we’re doing to appease the people we care about.”

He offered Lucas his hand, an extension of — what? Friendship? Appeasement? New beginnings?

Lucas glanced at Billy, and all he saw on his face was exhaustion. He looked so much older than he was. But beneath the weariness was a sparkle of something. Like Billy truly meant this gesture, this fresh beginning, instead of feeling obliged.

Billy had to mean it, right? He wouldn’t have driven here just to talk to him, to apologise, on a bad pain day if it hadn’t been on his mind, guilt likely eating away at his inside every time he thought about their strained relationship.

Lucas hesitantly took his hand and shook it. It was still clammy and gross but Lucas smiled and Billy responded with his own lopsided one that was almost a smirk.

“Lucas Sinclair. And you are?” He offered and Billy laughed.

“Billy Hargrove. Does this mean I have to gatekeep my sister from you like a real brother now, or…?” His eyes crinkled at his own tease and Lucas laughed nervously.

“Please don’t?”

Billy only laughed again, slightly strained around the edges with his weak lungs, but it made Lucas’ muscles slowly relax. Tension seeping out of him.

For the first time, in a room with Billy Hargrove, he didn’t feel anxious.

He still didn’t understand him. Not really. He can’t put the words Steve and Max have used to describe him onto the blond, but he’s sure with time, Lucas will find his own descriptors.

Billy accepts his hand when he goes to stand, cane handling most of his weight, and Lucas feels weirdly younger than he is when he waves him goodbye.

Guys are piling out of the showers and Lucas turns to look at them, his eyes finding Patrick with ease. His bruise has mostly faded but it still twists Lucas’ gut to see.

“Hey, Patrick!” The older boy turns to look at him with surprise. Lucas wiped his sweaty palms of his shorts discreetly.

“If you’re not busy, I thought maybe we could go hang out at the arcade…mind waiting five for me to shower?” Patrick still looks vaguely surprised but then a smile curls on his lips and there’s a flash of teeth that makes Lucas’ heart leap with hope.

“Sure, little man. Sounds good.” Lucas beams and is quick to get going.