“Hey, Pretty Boy,” Billy said, sneering into Steve’s open window, arm on the roof of the car as he leaned in.

Steve looked up from his notebook and glared at Billy. They weren’t friends. They were just civil, Billy reminded himself, trying not to let the glare hurt him. They were just in a place where they weren’t getting into fist-fights all the time.

“What do you want Hargrove?” Steve’s voice snapped him back to reality.

“I wanna know if you’re planning to play as badly as you did today at the game tomorrow,” he said, taking another drag from his cigarette and blowing the smoke into Steve’s face for no reason other than to be an ass.

Steve coughed and waved at the air, opening his car door and getting out. Billy stepped back, leaning on the nose of the car and looking at Steve intently. He was exceptionally gorgeous today. Billy didn’t know what it was. Maybe he didn’t put as much product in his hair as he usually did. Maybe it was his jeans hugging his ass in a way that made Billy’s mouth water. Or maybe it was just Steve being Steve.

“Try not being an asshole for once and then maybe I’ll start to improve,” Harrington retorted, coughing one last time.

Billy smirked and chuckled deeply. “I don’t think me being an asshole has anything to do with the fact that you just suck at basketball, Harrington,” he said, grinning at the mostly empty parking lot.

Steve rolled his eyes and leaned his side against his car, looking at Billy as his arm rested on the roof. “You know, before you came here, I was the best player our team had,” he stated matter-a-fact-ly.

Billy scoffed and shook his head, looking down at his leather boots. “Princess-”

“Don’t call me that.”

“-the only reason you were so good was because everyone on the team sucks. You’re the only person actually mediocre,” he continued as if Steve hadn’t interrupted him. Steve rolled his eyes again and lit a cigarette of his own, a Camel Light, and for some reason, that didn’t surprise Billy.

“Whatever, Hargrove,” he muttered, glaring at the school. “God, what’s taking them so long? They should’ve been here ten minutes ago.” Steve looked at his watch, taking another drag from his cigarette and cursing the brats under his breath.

Billy grinned and looked over at Steve.

“Don’t tell me my company’s that unbearable, Pretty Boy, it’s barely been five minutes.”

Steve glared at Billy before taking a final drag from his half-finished cig and dropping it to snuff it out with his shoe and get back in the BMW. Billy looked up and saw why. The rugrats were exiting the school and on their way to join the two older teens. He sighed and flicked away his long-since-finished Marlboro Red before moving to get back in the Camaro.

“Hargrove,” Steve called out as Billy started to leave.

Billy turned to face Steve, who had his arm out the window.

“I’ll plant my feet tomorrow, promise.”

Billy felt his chest warm at the promise, but he turned back to his car and began walking.

“I didn’t ask for a promise, Princess,” he yelled before getting in his car and waiting for Max to join him.

-x-x-x-

It ended up taking his step-sister five more long minutes to get to his car and the moment she did, he put the Camero into drive, speeding out of the parking lot. She’d probably been talking with her friends about their weekend plans. That’s what she did every Friday and any moment now, she’d ask him the same question she asked him every Friday.

“Can I go to Steve’s with the Party tonight? I don’t have to stay the night like they are, but I still wanna go, we’re gonna be finishing the campaign we’re on.” There it was. The $500 question that Max already knew the answer to.

“Ask Neil,” he said gruffly, keeping his eyes on the road as he drove them to the arcade.

Max whined and leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest. “He’s gonna say no,” she pouted, glaring at the road.

“Then the answer is no,” he said simply. He understood that Max wanted a night out with her friends at Steve’s, but Neil didn’t want her going out to a friend’s house at night more than once a week, and she spent that every Sunday to go to the Wheeler chick’s brother’s house for D&D.

“Billy, come on, this is the campaign finale, I have to be there. Why can’t we just go anyways? Sure, Neil’ll get mad but it’s just a one-time thing.”

Of course the brat didn’t know. She was too young, still a kid. Billy wished for that kind of ignorance. At least she had a semi-normal childhood. With two loving parents, a huge group of friends, getting to hang out with them after school. All things Billy didn’t have at her age. Things he needed to make sure she still got for as long as possible. Maybe that’s why he said the next thing he said.

“Fine, but we have to be back at the house by curfew,” he said, giving in as they pulled into the parking lot of the arcade, Harrington and his band of rugrats not too far behind them. He’d get in trouble for doing it, but whatever, he could let Max have her fun.

She smiled at him and jumped out of the car, running to the arcade. He saw the other brats follow behind her from his mirrors and watched as they went in, trying to beat one another to the best games. He could see the BMW in his rearview mirror and sighed before he left the parking lot and headed to the quarry so he could get some school-work done without interruption.

-x-x-x-

The day went on quietly, the same cycle of picking up Max from the arcade and taking her home to do homework--Billy used that time to work out--then they’d just hang around until supper. Not today though. At six, Max looked at Billy pleadingly and Billy rolled his eyes in response yelling something about going for a drive, nodding to his car. He led the small red-head to the Camaro and began the drive to the Harrington residence.

When Billy saw the house, he immediately understood why Steve was considered King before he showed up. The place was huge. The parties he must have thrown here, they would’ve been awesome. Why didn’t he throw parties? He’d heard that his parents were never around, so why not take advantage?

Max left the car and went up to knock on the door, which in turn opened and revealed a still sexy Harrington. Steve made eye contact with him and raised his hand in greeting. Billy nodded and drove off, heading back to his house. He’d get in trouble, but whatever. He’d still give Max until nine. No later than that, though. He couldn’t risk anything else.

When he got home, it was time for dinner. He sat in his chair, looking down.

“Where’s Maxine?” Neil Hargrove asked, looking at his son in a demeaning manner.

“She’s with her friends. It’s movie night, Sir,” he said quietly, still looking at his meal.

Susan looked nervously between the two and stayed silent. She always stayed silent. Billy hated her for it. He’d still stop Neil from hitting her, though. He’s done it more than once before. For some sick reason, he didn’t want him to hurt her. Just like he didn’t want him to hurt Max.

“Louder, boy, it’s rude to mumble,” Neil directed.

“She’s at a friend’s house watching movies, Sir, I’ll make sure she’s home by nine,” he said, looking up to make eye contact with the man across from him.

“She’s already had her night out, William,” Neil said in a tone that sent shivers down Billy’s spine.

“I know, Sir.” He looked back down at his spaghetti and swallowed tightly.

“Then why is she having another one, Boy?” Neil looked at Billy sternly and slammed his hand down on the table. “Look at me when I’m talking to you!”

Billy’s head snapped up, his heart racing, adrenaline pumping through his veins.

“She- she asked and I said yes before I could remember that she’d already had one,” he said, hands clenched into fists on his lap under the table.

Neil stood and Billy realized with a jolt that he’d forgotten to address his father with a ‘Sir’ at the end of his sentence. The larger man came around the table and turned Billy’s chair toward him. He slapped his son hard across the face, making him fall to the ground. Susan yelped and jumped back, stepping into the kitchen.

“What was that, Boy?” Neil asked, towering over Billy.

“I- I told her she could go without realizing she’d already had a night out, Sir,” Billy said, looking up at Neil from his place on the dining room floor.

Neil kicked him in the ribs, making him collapse from his position on his elbows.

“When I ask you a question, answer me right. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” Billy grunted out, rolling to his side, holding his ribs tightly.

“Will you let this happen again?” Neil asked, pressing his shoe against the hand Billy had on the ground.

“No, Sir,” he said, wincing.

“Good,” he released the pressure he had on Billy’s fingers and moved to sit back down at his place at the table. “Get out, I don’t want you back here without Maxine and it better be before nine.”

Billy pushed himself up and grabbed his keys before leaving the house. He still had over two and a half hours until he and Max needed to be back at the house, maybe he could find some chick to hook up with to prove his dad wrong--he wasn’t a fag--or maybe find a guy in this hick town that was queer enough to let Billy fuck him raw to say ‘fuck you’ to Neil.

-x-x-x-

He eventually chose the first option. He always did. The girl underneath him moaned as he rocked his hips into her tight cunt, his mind full of Steve. The way Steve looked today in those pants. His hair. The mole on his neck that was begging to be kissed. The way he’d sound as Billy fucked him in that preppy car of his.

“Billy! Fuck, oh,” the girl under him cried out as he sped up, pinning her arms above her head. They were in her pink-clad room. Her parents were gone. When he’d shown up on her doorstep, she ushered him in worriedly and moaned as he pulled her into a rough kiss.

“Let me fuck you,” he had said roughly. She had nodded breathlessly and led him to her room.

He mouthed at one of her breasts, thinking about how Steve’s skin would taste, how his sweat would taste. She arched under his mouth and he smirked.

“You like that, baby girl?” He asked, teasing the nipple with his tongue as he rocked his cock inside her.

“Yes! Oh God, Billy, please, fuck, oh!” She was moving her own hips against his now. Billy’s thoughts drifted to how Steve would feel like underneath him, thrashing wildly in search of release as Billy kept it from him. How he would sound when Billy found his prostate.

He angled his hips now and aimed for the girl’s g-spot. She screamed and Billy silenced her with a deep kiss, moving his hips faster, the thoughts of Steve, imagining that this was Steve under him now, bringing him closer to the edge.

His hand moved down and he thumbed at her soaking clit. She cursed loudly and clenched around Billy tightly as she came, panting and letting out breathy “oh”s. She went slack beneath him as he continued to fuck her fast and rough. He thought about how Steve would sound as he came, voice growing higher, louder, until he was screaming Billy’s name.

Billy’s hips shuddered as he came into the condom, having to stop himself from murmuring Steve’s name.

Once he was done, he slipped out of the girl and tied off the condom, throwing it in the trash. He looked at the clock and started getting dressed. It was 7:15, but he wanted to go to the quarry and have a few smokes before picking up Max. He still had an hour forty-five, an hour thirty once he got to the quarry.

“Where’re you going?” The girl--Samantha? Sarah? Suzzanne?-- asked, looking at him from the bed.

He leaned over and kissed her deeply. “Goin’ home, pretty thing,” he said to her dismay.

She pouted the same girl pout that every girl he slept with used when he left right after they were done. What did they want? To cuddle? He didn’t do that.

“Can’t you stay a little bit longer, Billy? I want you to hold me,” she pleaded, batting her eyelashes. God, did straight men really fall for this shit? He sighed and slid on his boots.

“Sorry, baby girl, got places to be.”

He left without another word after that.

-x-x-x-

The quarry was once again silent. No one was there and it was bliss. Billy took out a cigarette and lit it, wishing he had weed. He got out of his car and sat on the edge, staring out into the dark water below him. Blowing out smoke he leaned back and stared at the sky. He never saw as many stars as he did here in Cali. The light pollution was too much.

This was one thing he liked about Hawkins, he supposed. That he could see the stars and almost the Milky Way. Well, he liked the stars and he liked Steve Harrington, though the stars seemed more reachable than the Princess.

There were tiny rocks under him, stabbing him in the back, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, not when the pain grounded him. There would probably be leaves and dead grass in his hair when he sat up. He shook his head to himself. Who gave a shit? It was just him out here and he already looked fucked up enough that a few twigs in his hair would just enforce his story about getting into a fight with some underclassman who didn’t know his place.

He listened to the woods around him. It was November, so there weren’t any crickets or cicadas out like there had been in August. He was cold in just his jean jacket, but he didn’t have anything else, and it wasn’t like he could be killed by the forty-degree air. He inhaled another puff of nicotine and sighed as he blew it out, closing his eyes. At least the cold kept him awake and alert. He didn’t know what was in these woods. He was opting for nothing since for the five months he’d lived in Hawkins, he’d never seen anything. Max’s behavior with the woods would imply otherwise.

He lay there for what felt like forever, going through almost his whole pack in an hour. God, he wished he had weed. The cold kept him awake, as did the silence. He looked at his watch and grumbled. It was time to head to Harrington’s. Time to put an end to this heavenly experience. He slowly got up and walked back to his car.

He’d checked his appearance before he left and grimaced. He had a nasty bruise painted across his cheek and his lip was split open. He was right about the dead plants in his hair. His fingers were also bruised. He didn’t know how he’d play tomorrow with bruised ribs and fingers. He’d have to be benched. They’d lose. He didn’t like that.

“Pretty Boy better make good on that promise,” he muttered to himself, beginning the fifteen-minute drive to the mansion Steve apparently had all to himself.

-x-x-x-

He got to Harrington’s around fifteen minutes before he and Max needed to be at the house. It was still larger than Billy thought a house should be and the only other car in the driveway was still the BMW. The lights were all off, save the first floor and what he assumed was the Princess’ bedroom.

His skin stung at the sudden chill as he stepped out of his car and began to make his way to the Harrington’s doorstep. He rang the bell, hoping that whoever opened the door didn’t comment on his face. Billy heard shuffling and locks clicking. It was Harrington who opened the door to greet him.

Steve looked at him, shocked for a moment, then stepped aside to let Billy in. Billy took the silent offer and walked into the large house, noting the soft blue glow behind the curtains leading to the backyard. Of course Pretty Boy had a pool. Why wouldn’t he? His parents were clearly rich as fuck. Why’d he stop throwing parties again?

According to the stories Tommy Hagen fed him, Steve had stopped around a year ago, after a girl went missing after attending a party he’d thrown. But anything Tommy said about Steve could easily be bullshit since he was clearly eager to put the former king at the bottom of the food chain, right there with the Byers kid, John, or whatever his name was.

The door closed behind him and he turned to face Steve after admiring the front entrance of the place.

“Nice digs, Harrington, I can see why you were once the king of this town,” he said with a grin, making eye contact with the doe-eyed boy leaning against the front door.

“What happened to your face?” Steve blurted, not acknowledging Billy’s attempt to ignore the elephant in the room.

Billy rolled his eyes, suddenly itching for another cigarette. He’d left his pack in the Camaro. Damn.

“None of your damn business, Princess,” Billy said, glaring at Steve. He was more annoyed at himself, though. How he couldn’t bring himself to be honest with the boy he wanted more than anything to be honest with. How he kept himself so closely guarded that half the time he could only feel anger, nothing else.

Steve sighed and shrugged, moving past Billy and towards where Billy assumed was the living room-- sounds were playing from a television in there.

“Whatever, man, kitchen’s over there, grab some frozen peas or something if you want, I’ll let Max know you’re here,” Steve said as Billy watched him go.

Something inside of him warmed at Steve’s words. At what they could possibly mean. He had to fight a blush and followed Steve’s directions to the kitchen which was...mostly empty. It was almost completely barren of food. How long had Steve been on his own? When was the last time someone went grocery shopping?

He opened the freezer and quickly found a bag of frozen mixed veggies to help reduce the swelling as well as the bag could with the short amount of time he was going to be here. Billy found himself grateful for Steve’s kindness anyway.

It was a strange feeling, gratitude. Billy hadn’t felt it for years. He’d always been on his own, taking care of himself. Alone. Even when his mom was alive, he’d been independent. Neil worked, she...Billy didn’t know what she did when she left the house during the day. It’d been the better part of a decade since she died. He knew she didn’t work. The fights between her and Neil that rang in his head during a bad trip were enough proof of that.

Footsteps made their way into the kitchen and Billy turned to see Harrington standing awkwardly in the threshold of the room. He was staring at Billy and Billy took the opportunity immediately to smirk and fluster the older boy.

“Like what you see, Pretty Boy?” He asked, gladly basking in the joy of making Steve blush.

But Steve didn’t just blush. He scoffed. It wasn’t his usual scoff either, the “I’m so tired of you being an ass all the damn time” scoff. It was a scoff he’d seen Steve direct at the Henderson kid when he was being annoying. A “you’re being an idiot, but this is why I hang out with you, you absolute dimwit” scoff. If Billy felt like his heart would explode when Steve made the sound with a smile on his face, that was nobody’s business but his own.

“Hardly,” Steve said, his tone taking on something playful as though they were bantering instead of the one-sided teasing they usually went through.

Billy was suddenly grateful for the frozen veggies for a whole other reason as he felt his cheeks heat up. Why did he have to be so fucking soft for Harrington all the time? Why couldn’t he just be his usual asshole self in moments like this?

The answer sat in Steve’s locker. As it had all night.

“You just have bad taste, Princess,” he teased, the retort coming naturally to him.

Steve chuckled, a smile gracing his features and Billy felt himself let a small smile onto his own lips in return. Steve’s smile was gorgeous. Just like Steve.

“Don’t call me that,” he answered automatically before carrying on the conversation. “I have better taste than you, Hargrove,” he retorted as they began to head back to the front entrance.

It was Billy’s turn to scoff. Steve was very wrong on that front. Billy had much better taste compared to Steve and considering his type was basically Steve by himself, Billy considered his taste superior. The Princess couldn’t know that, though.

“We’ll see, Harrington, soon you’ll learn who has a better taste in men.” He grinned at Steve, handing him the frozen veggies. “I’ll see you at tomorrow’s game, Pretty Boy,” he said, saluting before calling out to the living room. “Maxine! Curfew! We gotta go!”

He could hear shuffling and a few sounds of protest from the brats.

“Max!” He called again when she didn’t appear after a few more seconds.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” she said, finally appearing in the front entrance.

They got home five minutes before curfew, and Billy could feel Neil’s glare on the back of his neck as he headed to his room, making sure Max was in front of him. He didn’t want Neil getting his hands on her while he was like this.

He didn’t sleep that night.

-x-x-x-

The game the next day went about as well as Billy expected it to. He was benched because of his hand and ribs--coach threatened to bench him for the rest of the season if he got into another “fight,” but Billy knew the threat was bullshit. There was no way in hell coach would bench the best player on the team for a whole season because of what passed as petty, drunken, fistfights.

Harrington kept his promise. His feet stayed planted the whole game. When the tactic proved its worth, Steve looked over and winked at Billy, making the younger boy malfunction for a second. Steve scored a three-pointer after that and when he came over afterward, for some water, Billy gave in to the urge to sling his arm over his shoulders, pulling him close.

“You’re doing good, Pretty Boy, now win this game for us,” he’d directed into Steve’s ear.

They didn’t end up winning, but it was a close game, close enough for Billy to feel something like pride in his chest. He wasn’t proud of the team, just Steve, for improving.

The weekend passed quickly after that and soon, Billy found himself back at school, pretending he’d beat someone up. Pretending to be interested in the girls fawning over him in the hallway. Pretending that he wasn’t keeping an eye out for Steve or that he wasn’t checking him out during practice.

He’d watched Steve that morning as he found the stanza of the poem and Billy’s letter. The way his eyes had lit up in wonder and curiosity. As he read the letter, Steve had blushed deeply and Billy had found himself wondering when the last time Steve had had a secret admirer.

It must have been forever ago because Billy knew that Steve and the Wheeler bitch dated for at least a year before they broke up. Was Steve not used to being shown that someone likes him?

This time, after a practice that he couldn’t participate in, Billy found a letter addressed to “Sinner” in Harrington’s sloppy handwriting. His pen name. He looked around before taking the letter and opening it.

Sinner,

I obviously don’t have a clue as to who you are. You didn’t leave anything identifiable, which I guess is the whole point of a secret admirer. I don’t really know what to say, I guess. I’ve never been in this position. I’ve never done this sort of thing. I’m flattered, don’t get me wrong, and I want to know who you are, get to know you better. I guess I’ll start with two questions since I’m bad at asking questions anyway.

1) What’s the second legacy?

2) Why “Sinner”?

-S.H.

Billy read over the letter twice. There were obvious spelling errors and Steve’s handwriting was atrocious, making it painfully obvious why Steve was having a hard time in school, but he couldn’t detect any malice in the letter. Any sign that Steve didn’t want this to continue. He even said that he wanted to get to know him.

He pulled out a piece of notebook paper and began writing a response right there on the floor of the hallway. It felt surreal as he answered Steve’s questions in his letter. This felt like something out of a book girls would buy to get themselves excited. This sort of thing didn’t happen in real life. But here they were. It was happening.

Steve,

You’re going to have to figure that out for yourself--there’s another part of the poem. As for my pen name, well, it felt suiting. If you knew me you would think the same. I’m a sinner. Of the most disgusting kind. Clearly, that doesn’t stop me from thinking I have a sliver of a chance with you. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.

-Sinner

Billy folded up the note and wrote out Steve’s name on the front, his handwriting much neater than the older boy’s. He put the note inside the locker along with one of his old earrings. A crucifix that he hadn’t worn since California. It had too many memories tied to it, despite that, it felt right to give it to Steve. Give him a piece of Billy. A piece of the Billy he was before it all went to shit.

He sighed and patted the locker once before heading to the parking lot. There was a lot he had to fix about himself, but maybe, slowly, he was starting to. Piece by piece. And maybe Steve was a part of that. Maybe now Billy finally had a reason to fix himself instead of letting himself become an empty shell.

The parking lot was empty, save a few cars, including the BMW. Billy frowned at that and began walking to his car. Steve was there, smoking one of his lights. Of course he was. Billy sighed and looked at Steve expectantly as he approached the Camaro.

“Hey, Pretty Boy,” he greeted, “what’re you doing at my car?”

Steve flicked away the cigarette and pushed himself off the blue vehicle, but in front of the driver’s side door. He shoved his hands in his pockets and Billy couldn’t help but notice how beautiful he was in the chilled November air. His lips and cheeks were pink, a contrast to the pale color his skin took to this time of year.

“Your hand is fine, why didn’t you do practice today?” There it was. Steve had developed this nasty habit of caring for him since that Friday. After Saturday’s game, Steve had checked Billy’s bruises, his knuckles and face, he didn’t know about his ribs. His hand had been okay, it hurt to move it too much, and his face was beginning to heal, the bruise was a deep purple. Now, his hand was perfectly fine. His cheek was turning that gross greenish-yellow bruises got before disappearing.

Billy sighed. “The kid did a number to my chest on Friday, Harrington. You gonna let me in my car now?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. He was too tired to deal with this shit right now. Everyone was asking where he got the bruises, so he fed them all the same story. It was exhausting to be reminded of that night. He hated it when Neil hit him in places he couldn’t hide.

Steve looked at him in slight concern. “Why didn’t you say something?” He asked, looking almost hurt.

Billy shrugged looking away. “Didn’t think you’d care, Pretty Boy. Move before I make you.” He looked back at Steve, glaring at him. Why couldn’t this fool just leave him alone?

The quieter voice in his head asked why Billy wasn’t letting Steve help. He’d been having trouble ignoring that one lately. Hence the stupid notes to divulge into his stupid fantasy, because underneath it all he was really just a stupid romantic who wanted a stupid boyfriend more than anything else.

Steve gave him that look again and Billy fought with himself for a moment. He would not soften for this boy. Not right now. Right now he needed to get Max home instead of dropping her off at the arcade because she was grounded for the week for blowing off an assignment.

“Harrington,” he said darkly, trying to emphasize that he didn’t have time for the Princess’ stubbornness.

Steve just stared at him before moving away from the car. He watched as Billy flipped him off and got into the Camaro, driving off.

When he looked in his rearview mirror, Steve was looking back at him.

-x-x-x-

Steve didn’t talk to Billy again for another week unless he had to.

It was more brutal than it had any right to be. Billy would try to start up conversation, of course, but every time he approached Steve with a flirty grin or a witty smirk, Steve turned away, pretending Billy wasn’t there. It stung. There were still the letters, of course.

After the earring, Steve left a letter complaining about having to figure out what poem it was when he was “failing the easiest English class offered to seniors!” There was more in the letter, talking about how Billy shouldn’t tell Steve that he doesn’t have a chance with him when Steve didn’t even know who he was yet. Then, he talked about his day, his weekend. That part surprised Billy. That Steve wanted this stranger to know about what he did, who he was with.

Billy’s response was another poem by Emily Dickinson--a full one this time-- “Hope is the thing with feathers.” He wrote a little note underneath it, on the empty spot of the page. Hope is so strong, Steve. Maybe that’s why, even in my shitty life, I still have it. Maybe that’s why I still hope that I have a chance like you say I do.

That Wednesday, he found the response--a small heart-shaped rock with a note. I promise you that you have a chance with me. I’d basically date anyone at this point. It had made Billy laugh quietly to himself in that empty hallway. Of course Steve would say that.

Billy left a ring next; it was once his mother’s. Only you would say that, Steve Harrington, but would you date Amy Smax? Also: here, it was my mom’s. It doesn’t fit me, and my dad wouldn’t like it if he saw me wearing it. You’re the only person I feel like I can trust with it.

On Thursday, he found the response--a hastily written “thank you” and an “it’s beautiful.” There was a postscript on that note. If you’re her, then yeah, I think I would take you on a date, at least to see how things go. Billy left a flower that time.

What if I was a guy? Was his only response, he left it tied to the stem of the cheap carnation.

Friday brought him the joy of seeing the ring on Steve’s finger. It suited him nicely but after practice, he didn’t find anything in Steve’s locker, and for some stupid reason, it stung like a fucking yellow jacket. He didn’t know why it hurt so badly. It wasn’t like Steve was obligated to answer, it was just nice to know that Billy was being acknowledged, it was nice to feel like he had a chance. Now...now Steve knew that he was a guy, and that little fact was the dealbreaker.

-x-x-x-

Sunday evening found him choking back quiet sobs as he drove to nowhere after a run-in with Neil. It was too much, everything was too much. Too little. He was so tired. Neil hadn’t even roughed him up that badly. The words hurt more than anything else. He supposed. Fag, pansy, fairy, useless piece of shit, defected, disappointment, he’d heard it all. It still hurt like hell, even after all these years.

Steve hadn’t talked to him for the past week, Billy thought as he approached the quarry. He knew he should apologize for being a shitty person, for pushing Steve away just as they were becoming something akin to actual friends, but Steve was being an idiot! Billy should be allowed to keep his secrets. Steve shouldn’t even care.

It was colder at the quarry than it had been the week before. Billy found that he once again didn’t care. He couldn’t bring himself to, still wallowing in self-pity. Self-hatred. Being annoyed at Steve. Anything to avoid the root of the problem. The problem that was tethered deep in his soul. That had been pounded into him as a kid by a father who didn’t want a fag for a kid.

What he felt was wrong in all senses of the word. And yet...he was still enough of a romantic to ignore the nausea he felt some nights after coming at the image of Steve while jerking off in the shower. His heart still ached when he saw Steve looking at Nancy Wheeler the way he did. The way he wanted Steve to look at him. Maybe that’s why he started with the stupid secret admirer crap. Because he was so tired of hating himself for wanting Steve’s attention, he just gave in and found a way to get it. Because he was a fucking romantic that wanted to have a fucking boyfriend, someone to fucking love him.

Billy finally let his tears of frustration and pain fall as he stared out across the darkness that was the quarry. Maybe this was what heartbreak felt like. He was sure it was what he was feeling, or at least a semblance of what he was feeling.

A car pulled up beside the Camaro and Billy wiped at his eyes, taking a drag from his cigarette. He’d tell whoever it was to fuck off, that this spot was taken. He listened as the car door opened and then closed again. He heard footsteps approach him.

“You know,” Billy’s heart stopped at the voice, “the woods out here can be dangerous when you’re by yourself.”

He tried to hide his shock that Steve was talking to him again, that he was here and was apparently going to stay here for a while. He didn’t look away from the quarry.

“What’s a second person gonna do that I can’t?” He asked, hoping that Steve didn’t notice the hoarseness in his voice that came when he was trying to suppress sobs.

“Make sure you’re not alone when you die,” Steve answered simply, sitting beside Billy, who stayed silent.

The thing was, Harrington had a point. Billy didn’t fear death--you couldn’t with a father like Neil--he feared dying alone, forgotten. He was scared that Neil would kill him one night and no one would find his body for days, or even notice he was missing.

He still didn’t look at Steve. He couldn’t. Steve would notice something was off, or worse, Billy would kiss him. No, he couldn’t look at Steve.

Steve wasn’t looking at Billy either.

The princess took out his own cigarette and Billy flicked open his lighter for him without thinking.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said quietly, still looking out. “I shouldn’t have gotten upset that you didn’t tell me about your ribs. It’s really none of my business and you’re entitled to your secrets. I crossed a line.” Billy sighed and shook his head, flicking away the cigarette butt and lighting a new one. “And I do care, by the way,” Steve rushed, almost as if he thought Billy was thinking he didn’t when he so clearly did. Billy just didn’t understand why.

He sighed, resigned, tired. “I know, Pretty Boy,” he breathed, blowing smoke into the chilly November air.

“Someone’s been sending me stuff through my locker like, love letters and poems and stuff,” Steve said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen between them. “I think it’s a guy.”

Billy sighed, looking up at the sky, trying not to let himself reveal anything. He couldn’t. Not when their friendship was starting to settle again. He would rather have Steve as a friend than go back to how it was before, or strangers.

“Why are you telling me?” He asked towards the sky, admiring the stars, wishing--not for the first time--that he was taken to live up with the stars. He wouldn’t have to live with the embarrassment of human life. He wouldn’t have to deal with his dad. But he wouldn’t have to deal with Steve either, and that was enough to make him want to stay.

Said teenager shrugged and followed Billy’s gaze.

“I had to tell someone,” he said quietly. “I don’t know what to do,” Steve admitted, laying onto his back and sighing.

“What makes you think I have the answer?”

“You lived in Cali,” Steve breathed, not looking back at Billy when he looked over at him.

“And?”

Why would the fact that he used to live in California have anything to do with the dilemma he was causing Steve? It didn’t make any sense to him, none of it was. Why was Steve coming to him of all people? Their...friendship was hardly even that. They were hardly friends, and yet...Steve still knew more about Billy than anyone else in that damn school.

“You know...California’s kinda filled with…” Billy could see the hesitation Steve had on naming the kind of people Cali was known for having.

“Queers? Fags? Fairies?” Billy looked back up at the sky, the words bitter on his tongue. It didn’t feel right. Saying them out loud, knowing that he was talking about himself.

“Don’t say stuff like that,” Steve said, looking over at him. “I just meant gay people. Don’t call them that.”

Billy narrowed his eyes and studied Steve. Most people wouldn’t have a problem with it. He thought that Steve of all people wouldn’t have a problem with it, considering his past reputation. He couldn’t find it in himself to challenge Steve on it though, not when it gave him a chance to never say those words again. He hated them. He hated that they defined him. So if Steve was offering a happier alternative, Billy would gladly take it.

He shrugged, leaning back as well.

“Whatever, man, just saying it how it is,” he mumbled, taking a drag.

Stever shook his head and finally moved to look at Billy.

“It isn’t though,” he said quietly.

Billy could feel his eyes studying his profile until finally, Steve was looking back up at the sky.

“All they do is love each other. Doesn’t make them any less manly to love,” he said as a final point to his argument.

The words made Billy turn to Steve. What was this? He was defending them. For some reason that made Billy want to start crying again, so he got up and flicked away his finished cig. He couldn’t deal with this right now, and he definitely couldn’t let Harrington see or hear him cry.

“If your little secret admirer or whatever is a dude, then tell them to leave this fucking town before they get murdered,” he said, moving to his car, shivering less than he did a few weeks ago. He had his jacket this time. “And if you wanna be fucking boyfriends or whatever with him? I’d suggest the same for you, Pretty Boy,” he told Steve darkly before getting in the Camaro and starting her engine. He needed to get back to the house.

He tried to ignore the sinking feeling that he’d just made things a hundred times worse as he drove back to hell.

-x-x-x-

The next day, Billy went to check Steve’s locker after their final practice out of habit. A piece of paper fell out. It was a note. From Steve. He looked in the locker. A rose sat on top of Steve’s forgotten textbooks.

Billy’s heart jumped into his throat. His hands shook as he unfolded the notebook paper. The rose was now in his lap where he was sitting on the floor and leaning against the lockers. He began to read.

Sinner,

If you’re a guy...a...if you’re gay, then I guess we’ll just have to run away together. Maybe after graduation, though? I don’t want to ruin your educational career like I already have mine. I’ve never been with a guy, obviously, but...I don’t think I’d be opposed to it. I mean...I’ve been questioning things since The Outsiders came out. I know I like girls, I definitely like girls, but...guys are really attractive too. Like really attractive. You know what I mean. Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that yes, Sinner, even if you were a guy, I’d give you a chance.

-S.H.

Billy couldn’t breathe. Was this seriously happening? Steve was queer? He had a chance? Fuck. He huffed out a laugh and folded up the note, stuffing it in his pocket. He put the rose in there too and left the building, leaving a small response in his wake.

Steve,

I don’t know what to say. You don’t want to run away with me, Pretty Boy. Even if you’re like me, you wouldn’t...I’m not soft, Steve. I’m not like Nancy Wheeler or any of the girls you’ve dated. Like, seriously, Steve, think about the guys going to this school. I...I’m a fucking jagged knife blade. I don’t know why I even started doing this if I’m trying to convince you the opposite of why I’m writing you. I like you, a lot, and I’d like to, I don’t know, I wanna fuck, but I think I want more than just a fuck. I do just that too much. Granted it’s mostly girls, you know, to convince everyone around me that I’m straight. Yet here I am, writing you letters and leaving them in your locker like a fucking girl.

-Sinner

As expected, Steve was there waiting for him at the Camaro. Billy sighed heavily and approached him, expecting to be yelled at. For a fight to happen. Why wouldn’t it? Steve was probably queer and Billy...Billy broke things. Again. He hated himself for it. Why did he keep pushing away the one person that pushed back?

“Why do you keep coming out late?” Steve asked, pushing himself off of where he was leaning on the car.

“Grabbing stuff from my locker, Pretty Boy,” he explained simply, crossing his arms over his chest, rose feeling heavy in his pocket.

Steve hummed and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it and offering Billy one. He shook his head. Lights didn’t do anything for him. The older boy just shrugged and put the pack back in his pocket.

“Why do you keep doing this, Steve?” Billy asked, exasperated. He was tired of Steve continuing to come back to him after he pushed him away, continuing to give him this stupid hope that maybe things would be okay. That he had any form of a chance.

“Because I care Billy. I care about you, alright?” He moved to put a hand on his shoulder then seemed to think better, letting it dangle at his side. “I thought...I thought we were cool, that we were becoming, I don’t know, friends or something. After the game...and then the quarry…” he sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

Billy watched him carefully, quietly. He studied the boy in front of him, watched his movements. He was trying to find any sign of lies. He couldn’t find any.

“You’re a cool guy, Hargrove, when you’re not being an ass,” Steve concluded, looking at Billy determinedly. “I want to be friends and I will keep pushing you until you let me in or tell me directly to stop.”

Billy sighed and leaned against his car next to Steve. “Whatever, Harrington,” he said, leaning back to look at the sky before looking at Steve. “Did you end up saying something to them?” He asked, already knowing the answer, the evidence lay in his pocket.

“Yeah, I did,” Steve said, taking a drag. “I can trust you, right?” He asked, looking over at Billy, doe eyes full of hope. Fucking Bambi.

The look made Billy’s knees weak and his heart stutter. He was so fucked for this guy.

“Don’t see why not, I don’t have a reason to tell anyone, already got to the top when you handed me your crown,” he said, looking away and taking out his own cigarette.

“I’m queer.”

Steve’s voice was small and slightly scared. Billy looked over at him and sighed quietly, studying the look on his face. It wasn’t fear, or even anxiety or shame. Hesitation. That’s what it was. Of course, saying it out loud would make it real. He watched as the hesitation bloomed into shock, then realization, until finally the shame came out and Steve’s gorgeous doe eyes filled with tears.

“I’m queer,” he repeated, quieter, to himself almost. He was looking down at the sunbleached tarmac.

“Oh, Steve,” Billy murmured, looking away to give the other teen some privacy.

Steve suddenly looked up as if remembering that Billy was there. He could feel the panic radiating off him.

“Fuck, Billy, what am I going to do?” He asked as if Billy had all the answers. He fought the urge to bring Steve into his chest, to hug him tightly until he understood that it was okay. Nothing was wrong with him. Billy’d be a hypocrite then, though.

“I don’t know, Bambi,” he said honestly, still looking away. “You think you’re gay or something else?” He asked, knowing that there was no way Steve hadn’t been attracted to Nancy when they were dating. He’d seen the looks he’d given her.

“I like girls too,” he said, voice small and submissive.

The tone made Billy finally look over and he realized that Steve was crying. He didn’t know what to do. He never handled crying people very well, he could hardly handle his own tears very well, but this was Steve. Steve who he...no, he didn’t. He wasn’t supposed to. He moved to grip Steve’s shoulder tightly, hoping it offered some sort of comfort.

Steve rolled over until his face was buried in Billy’s shoulder and neck, hugging him tightly. Billy froze for a moment, not knowing what to do before hesitantly hugging him back, hand burying itself in his hair. It was soft. Intimate. An affection Billy wasn’t used to, one that usually wasn’t something shared between friends. In public, at least.

Steve pulled away a few minutes later and wiped at his face.

“Sorry,” he said, voice croaky. He cleared his throat. “I didn’t mean to...you know. I didn’t realize I’d react like that, I’ve just never said it before,” he admitted, holding himself.

Billy shrugged, looking away. “It’s fine,” he said simply. “The kids’ll be waiting,” he reminded quietly, fidgeting with his keys.

Steve cursed, running a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, I’ll uh, I’ll see you around, Billy,” he murmured quietly, moving to the BMW.

“You too, Steve,” he hesitated, but Steve was right. There was clearly some sort of friendship forming between them. He needed to just get over himself. “I’ll be at the quarry tonight if you wanna join me. Have some weed and booze,” he offered after Steve, hoping he wasn’t making a mistake.

Steve turned and gave him a smile that made Billy’s cheeks heat up.

“Yeah, I’d like that. I’ll see you there,” he said with a grin before continuing to walk to the other side of the parking lot.

-x-x-x-

The air at the quarry was once again cold. It was leaning into December, icy, beginning to threaten snow. Billy could see his breath and was shivering under his jean jacket. The booze’d warm him up and the weed would help too.

He waited in his car, heat cranked up, music blasting. Metallica. Why not? They were loud and let him drown out his thoughts for hours on end. They were angry, violent, perfect. After a while, a knock on the window made him flinch. He looked up, turning down the music. Steve was there, shivering outside his car, smiling at him.

He opened the passenger door and let him in, wincing when a cold burst of air rushed through the car.

“Can you close the damn door, Harrington? It’s fucking cold out there,” he said, tightening his jacket around his body.

Steve was gorgeous. The cold had made his cheeks flush and his nose red. His usually pale skin stood out in the dark, contrasting deeply with the pick accenting his cheeks. The icy winds had made his eyes water and damnit if he wasn’t somehow more attractive with fucking glossy fawn eyes. Billy looked away, biting his lip. This was it. This was when he’d accidentally kiss Steve without realizing it.

The door was closed and Steve was very obviously enjoying the heat of the car.

“I was promised alcohol and marijuana,” he said, looking at Billy with a grin that made his heart stutter. Damnit. It was easier to deal with him when he was being an asshole, but that obviously wasn’t an option now.

“Yeah, yeah,” Billy muttered, looking through the small area between his seat and the door. He grabbed a couple joints he’d already rolled and rolled down his window as he lit his. “To this shitty town,” he said, raising it before taking a drag, relishing the slight burn and then the warm feeling tingling down his body.

Steve laughed before lighting his own and raising it in salute as well. He hummed pleasantly after his drag. “You know your stuff, Hargrove,” he murmured, rolling down his own window and blowing out the smoke. It was freezing and rolling down the windows only made the heat escape his car, but it was better than smoking up the car and having to deal with the eventual damage.

“Damn right I do,” Billy said, grinning at Steve like the devil.

Steve just hummed quietly in agreement, and maybe contentment. Either way, the sound warmed Billy more than any drug ever could. He offered Steve the flask of gin, trying not to think too much about how their fingers brushed as it was passed between them. They sat there in a quiet, comfortable silence until they were both buzzed and Steve was giggling quietly to himself.

“What’re you laughing about over there?” Billy asked, turning his head to look at Steve, amused by the other boy. Steve looked back at him, still giggling, a smile gracing his lips. Billy still loved that smile, being kind of high didn’t change that.

He hadn’t taken much from his blunt, preferring to just watch it burn, take a few drags maybe, get buzzed. It was clear enough by the state of Steve’s pupils that he hadn’t had the same thought process.

“You’re not as much of a jerk as you pretend to be,” Steve said matter-a-factly, poking Billy’s bicep, hand lingering on the jacket he was wearing, tugging at it lightly. “You hugged me when I cried, and you don’t care that I’m a fag.” He dissolved into giggles again, the sound flooding Billy’s car. It was almost angelic.

“Don’t call yourself that,” Billy said, sighing as he looked back out at the quarry, studying the dark silhouette of the naked trees against the star-filled sky. Steve slowly calmed, borderline manic laughter reducing to the quiet giggles that they were before.

“Why not? ‘Just saying it how it is’ and all that,” he said, flopping back against his seat, still giggling slightly. “‘Sides, that’s not what we’re talkin’ ‘bout,” Steve slurred, grinning at Billy. “Why’re you pretending to be mean? You’re so nice, Billy.” He dragged out the ‘y’ in Billy’s name, making himself sound like a toddler asking for something. He pulled harder at his jacket sleeve, making it fall from his shoulder.

Billy hummed, breathing in deeply. He was gonna cut Steve off, he didn’t need to get anymore drunk or high or whatever.

“Why don’t you throw parties anymore?” He retorted, avoiding the questions thrown at him. “I heard from Hagan that you used to throw some bangers last year, what changed?” He was looking at Steve again, studying his profile. He was so fucking gorgeous, Billy couldn’t stand it.

The mood in the car shifted drastically within a very small time frame. Steve looked away, pulling away and beginning to fidget with the hem of his shirt while he chewed on his lip. The blunt was long forgotten, dropped outside of the Camaro. He breathed quietly, frisky, energetic mood long gone. The subject seemed to sober Steve. It was almost scary.

“Barb,” Steve murmured, voice quiet, like just saying the word would make something bad happen.

Billy stayed silent, though, letting Steve have more room to talk. He did, after a few minutes, still worrying his lip in a way that made Billy want to kiss him just to make him feel better, to soothe the swollen lip with his tongue. That wasn’t an option though, not now, probably not ever.

“She…” Steve breathed deeply for a second before restarting. “She’s the girl that went missing last year,” he explained, looking at his lap. “I was having Tommy, Carol, and Nancy over, and Nancy ended up bringing Barb too...I dunno, make sure she wasn’t roofied. So we were all hanging out outside and eventually, she cut herself trying to shotgun a beer and went to the bathroom to fix herself up. I thought...I thought she left.” His voice was small and filled with guilt. Billy hated hearing it in Steve’s voice. “Tommy and Carol ended up leaving at some point and so I brought Nancy up to my room because I wanted to have sex. That next morning...Billy, I thought she’d left,” he said, looking at him with eyes full of guilt and regret.

“It wasn’t your fault, Stevie,” he tried to assure, not quite sure what to do. Steve looked so broken. He was showing Billy everything. There was more, though, and Billy wanted to know what had destroyed Steve, what shattered him, so he could do the same to it.

“If I had just let Nancy go with Barb...she’d still be alive, how is this not my fault? I practically killed her!” Steve groaned and held his head. A headache was setting in, Billy could tell. “I’m sorry,” Steve said quietly, shutting his eyes and pressing his palms against his eyes.

“You don’t need to apologize, Pretty Boy,” Billy murmured in response, not sure what else to say.

“This was supposed to be fun,” Steve argued, looking over at Billy now.

Billy grunted and took a final swig of the gin, throwing his burned-out blunt outside the car and tucking the flask away between his seat and the door.

“No one said that,” he said quietly. “Besides, I’m the one who asked, I’m the one who brought down the mood. You didn’t do anything wrong, Princess,” Billy said, looking back at Steve. He still looked distraught in a kind of attractive way that only Steve could pull off. “You can ask me a personal question if that’ll make you feel better,” he forfeited, trying to get ready to get into a vulnerable position.

“Where do your bruises really come from?” Steve asked after a few minutes of thought. “I know they don’t come from fights with underclassmen or random people. When you get mad, the other person doesn’t really have much of a chance to throw in enough punches to give that amount of damage,” he explained his reasoning, ignoring Billy’s sudden need to disappear.

He didn’t want to talk about this. He really really didn’t want Steve to know about this. A part of him felt like he already knew, though. He swallowed tightly. He’d feel like a jerk if he refused to answer. He’d disappoint Steve, make him feel more guilty for getting too personal. He sighed quietly. He had to, there wasn’t another choice for him to make.

“My dad’s an asshole, Steve, you already know that,” he breathed, leaning back and looking out the windshield again to look at the dark quarry. “Let’s just say he gets angry a lot.”

“Billy…” Steve murmured, voice soft. His tone made Billy look over at him, made him notice the internal battle Steve was seeming to have with himself. He looked like he was trying to stop himself from reaching out as if he wasn’t sure if that was a boundary he could cross.

“My parents… It’s nowhere near the same, but the few times they’re home, my dad basically tells me how worthless I am because I can’t work in his company since I’m not smart enough to, and my mom… I don’t think she loves me. It’s like I’m just a guest in her house when they’re home. I still prefer it when they’re home though because I’d rather feel like I wasn’t supposed to be born and forced to choose sides than live alone in an empty house. It’s too big for one person. I feel like I don’t even have parents most days. When I do, they’re fighting or yelling at me for not getting my grades up or telling me that I’m supposed to be smarter, better, I’m not enough, all that shit. It’s nowhere near the same thing that you’re going through, but I guess,” Steve sighed, running a hand through his hair, “I guess I’m just trying to say that you’re not alone in having shitty parents and my house is always open if you need somewhere to go.”

Billy stared at him for a moment before looking away when Steve met his eyes. He felt strangely timid.

“Thanks, Pretty Boy,” he mumbled, staring at his steering wheel.

He heard Steve hum in content again before sighing.

“I should go,” he said, voice low as if he didn’t want to break the soft contentment in the atmosphere of the car.

“Yeah,” Billy murmured, looking at his watch in the dim light of the moon, it was almost midnight. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Harrington,” he said, looking over at Steve as the other teen got himself ready to face the cold outside. The windows had long since been rolled up, Billy wasn’t sure when they did it, maybe after they were done with the weed. He bit his lip in consideration.

“I’ll see you, Hargrove,” Steve responded softly, offering Billy a small smile before leaving the car, the sudden cold air, causing both of them to shiver.

“Wait,” Billy said, making Steve stop and look at him in question. He was shivering hard, only one of his dumbass sweaters protecting him from the cold. “Here.” He took off his jean jacket and handed it to Steve.

Steve looked at him in shock, clearly hesitant to take it.

“Billy-”

“Just take the damn jacket, Harrington. Give it back next time we see each other or something.”

Steve worried his lip again before taking it and putting it on. He gave Billy a warm smile.

“Thanks.”

The door was shut and a few seconds later, Billy heard the engine of the BMW start, then, slowly, it faded away into the distance. Billy let out a quiet breath and opened his hand. He looked at the crumpled flower in his palm, chest warming. He was right, Steve made him feel warmer than either the alcohol or the weed did during the entire night.

-x-x-x-

Neil was more irritable than usual on Tuesday morning. It made Billy nervous, made him quiet and obedient. He couldn’t afford to set him off on days like this; Neil would already find a reason to get angry, and Billy couldn’t give him more than that. Things would only be worsened if he did. Max seemed to sense the danger too because she wasn’t pulling her usual bratty antics. If even she noticed something was off, things were bound to get worse.

They got to school like normal after an unusually tense breakfast and Billy found himself letting out a shaky breath of relief as he pulled into the parking lot, safe. The day went on like normal from there, with the exception of catching Steve’s eye from where he was hanging out with Wheeler and Byers. The small smile the other teen gave him made something warm tingle in his chest that was immediately frozen over when Wheeler glared at him.

He ended up watching them during lunch as he ate. Jealousy flaring through him. He wasn’t embarrassed to admit it, either, he was jealous. Of Wheeler. Who already had a boyfriend. And was getting more attention from Steve than Billy was. It was stupid. He felt stupid.

The day passed by achingly slow, but finally, Billy found himself waiting in the library for the afterschool rush to end. Then, he’d go to Steve’s locker.

When he got there, he bit his lip nervously and began picking the lock. His heart stopped when he didn’t see anything in the tiny metal cabinet. What happened? What did he do wrong? Did he say something? Shit. He swallowed tightly and let out a shaky breath. He couldn’t overthink this, it was probably something dumb, probably nothing.

Without thinking, he made it back to his car, on autopilot. Steve wasn’t waiting for him. Fuck. What did he do? He felt anger and frustration surge through him and he hit his steering wheel, hard. This was so fucking stupid.

He got to the middle school and picked up Max. The rest of the day went on without him having noticed. He was being dramatic, he knew that, but if he’d done something wrong without realizing it...he could’ve just lost his only real friend.

It was when they got home for dinner when things went to shit.

There was something already off about Neil when they’d left that morning, but now, as they entered the house, he held a posture that struck fear into Billy, not just apprehension. He stayed between Neil and Max as the girl went to her room to do homework, ignoring the growing tension in the atmosphere. Neil was glaring at Billy, he couldn’t move from his place in front of the front door.

“You have something to tell me, boy?” Neil asked, cigarette in hand and fists clenched. Billy furrowed his eyebrows, what was Neil talking about? He hesitantly shook his head.

“No, sir,” he said quietly, confused.

It was the wrong thing to say. Billy heard the impact of Neil’s hand across his face before he felt it. He stumbled and winced. A clatter filled the tense silence and Billy looked over to see what had fallen. Oh. Oh shit. No. Fuck. He was going to get murdered. On the floor were the notes, the stupid rock Steve had given him, and the flower. No. He looked back up at Neil and flinched at the stern look, staring back down at the floor, feeling tears stinging the back of his eyes. He watched as the flower was stepped on, crushing it.

“Care to explain, William?”

Billy shook his head. There wasn’t a point. He was just glad Neil didn’t know who S.H. was.

The first blow that came was to his stomach, knocking the air out of him. He was pinned to the bookcase again, wincing and trying to get away as Neil pressed the cigarette against his neck. He felt thirteen again, he hadn’t tried to squirm away from Neil since then, when he realized there was nothing he could do and the best way to get it to stop was to stay still and be good. He was thrown to the ground and Neil walked away. Billy pressed closer to the wall, fear pounding through his veins. This wasn’t all that was going to happen, was it? It wasn’t last time, last time- His thoughts were cut off when he saw Neil coming back with a knife.

“No,” he breathed, eyes wide with fear.

He pushed back more against the wall, trying to get away. He couldn’t, though, he was trapped. Neil grabbed his collar and pulled him up, pinning him to the wall. He felt a sharp sting and looked down. His shoulder was bleeding. Huh. There was...a knife inside his shoulder. The sting turned into a burn and he couldn’t breath the pain was so bad. The knife was torn from his shoulder and Neil stepped away, glaring at him.

“Give me your keys,” he ordered, glaring at the teen, making him quiver. “Give me your keys!” Neil repeated, yelling this time, his spit flying over Billy’s face. He let out a shaky breath and fished his keys from the pocket of his now ruined leather jacket and dropped them into Neil’s hand.

“Now get the fuck out of my house, you faggot.”

Billy flinched and his eyebrows furrowed. Strange. The words had never stung like this before. But then, he’d also never had a stab wound in his shoulder before either. He kept his eyes low as he left the house, venturing into the cold, darkening outside world. It was beginning to snow, making him shiver. His steps were sloppy, as if he were drunk. He was swaying, the blood loss beginning to get to him. He had to keep going, though, so he held his shoulder tightly and kept walking to nowhere.

-x-x-x-

Billy didn’t know when he decided he was going to the Harrington’s, but there he was, standing at the door, sluggishly bleeding, the rest of his body numb. He pressed the doorbell and leaned against where his arm was resting next to the door. When Steve answered, he smiled nonchalantly and sauntered in best he could. Steve’s eyes went wide as he stared at Billy’s shoulder.

“Billy, what the hell?” He asked, closing the door. “Wait, did you walk here? Like that? In the snow?”

Billy rolled his eyes and smirked, trying to keep his footing as his vision doubled and he began feeling light headed. “That’s what you call a greeting, Pretty Boy?” He asked, laughing. It didn’t feel like it was him who was laughing, though. It didn’t feel like he was in his body at all. “No wonder you never get laid.”

Steve ignored him and slowly moved closer, as if afraid of what Billy’d do if he moved too suddenly.

“Billy, what happened?” He asked, finally resting a hand on Billy’s arm and gently leading him to the stairs. Billy furrowed his brow, confused. Why did Steve want him to go upstairs? His head was too cloudy for this.

“Fuck off,” he muttered, pulling away.

He was on the ground suddenly, blinking in confusion. What? He tried to sort out what had happened. He pulled away...did he fall?

Steve was in front of him, then, helping him up and muttering something about his mom killing him for getting the floor all bloody and Billy being heavy.

“Pretty Boy?” Billy asked, still confused.

“We’re gonna take you to the hospital,” Steve said, leading him back to the front door.

Billy felt a panic rush through him, and he began to fight back best he could, dragging his feet, trying to squirm out of Steve’s grasp.

“No!” He yelled, looking at Steve pleadingly. “Please, no, Steve, I can’t go to the hospital,” he tried to explain, feeling tears coming to his eyes. Seriously? He was on the verge of crying right now? So fucking stupid.

Steve looked at him with concern lacing his eyes for a moment.

“Billy…”

“Please, Steve,” he urged, trying his best to keep himself upright while leaning on the other boy.

Steve sighed in defeat, steering them back to the stairs. Billy felt safe as Steve half helped half carried him up the stairs, felt secure in a way he hadn’t felt before. It was oddly nice.

“You’re going to explain yourself after we get you fixed up, okay? You can’t just show up on my doorstep all bloody and covered in snow, alright? You’ll get hypothermia,” Steve chastised like a mother, making Billy snort slightly. He really was a mother hen.

“Whatever,” he muttered, still dizzy, words slurring as he spoke.

“God, Billy, just, can you sit upright?” Steve asked, as they finally reached the bathroom. He felt himself getting seated on the closed toilet, Steve still holding him by the shoulders. He hummed, leaning back and trying to focus on not passing out.

“Alright, I’m going to take off your jacket now to see how bad this really is and if I need to apply stitches,” Steve explained, getting a first-aid kit from under the sink.

Billy huffed, as if Steve knew how to apply stitches. What was he, a secret fucking doctor or something? Nonetheless, he let Steve take off the ruined jean-jacket and then the long sleeve underneath. You really couldn’t blame Billy from wearing normal shirts as winter began. It was colder than he thought it would be in Indiana during this time of year. Besides, Neil’d been going for the stomach and ribs lately, so it worked as a way to avoid questions.

Steve bit his lip at the injuries revealed and sighed quietly.

“Billy…” he murmured, tears stinging his eyes.

Billy furrowed his brow, more confused now. Why was Steve upset? He didn’t like seeing Steve upset, it made him upset. He watched as those gorgeous eyes filled with an emotion Billy couldn’t bring himself to describe.

Steve swallowed tightly and let out a breath, grabbing a wet cloth and hesitating before looking up at the other boy.

“Billy, this might hurt, just let me know if it’s too much, alright? I don’t want to hurt you more than I have to to clean this wound,” he explained, making Billy’s chest tighten.

He nodded, making his head pound and his vision double again. He must have started swaying again, because Steve placed a hand against Billy’s arm and stared at him for a moment.

“Alright, just stay with me, okay?”

Billy hummed and leaned back against the tank of the toilet, hissing in pain as Steve pressed the towel to his shoulder.

“I know,” Steve murmured, “it hurts a lot. You’ll be okay, though, I promise, you’re just going to have to be Strong for a little bit longer, Bills. You’ll be okay,” he said, murmuring quiet words of comfort to the other boy as he cleaned up the blood around the wound. It was still bleeding, but not as badly as it was before.

Steve bit his lip for a moment before pouring what looked like rubbing alcohol onto the rag and Billy couldn’t stop himself from whimpering, knowing what was going to happen next. Steve sighed for a moment, brushing his thumb along Billy’s arm in a soothing manner.

“Billy, I know that it’s going to hurt, but I need to do this to make sure it doesn’t get infected, okay?” He asked, looking at the other boy in the eyes. Billy nodded, swallowing tightly. He didn’t want to feel anymore pain today.

He didn’t want to admit that he was scared. He didn’t know what he was scared of. Was it the pain? The possibility of death? The possibility of Neil pulling this again? Or killing him next time? Or maybe it was the fact that Neil’d done this in the first place. That he would stoop to that level. The level of stabbing his son. Flesh and blood. He knew he was evil, he’d experienced his fury first hand in Cali, but this...this was different.

“You’re doing so well, Billy,” Steve praised quietly, snapping him out of his thoughts and squeezing his arm gently. Then, the pain came and Billy had to suppress a scream.

He wasn’t sure why he reacted to the pain like he did. He’d honestly felt worse before thanks to Neil, but this was different. He was tired, body throbbing, he didn’t want to have to deal with trying to stay strong and his shoulder felt like it was on fire. He hated it. He quietly whimpered and leaned his head back.

“I know, we’re almost done, buddy,” Steve said, still trying to soothe him it would seem. The words made Billy relax for some reason. Maybe it was the tone Steve used, or the look he gave him as he spoke. It might have been the gentle touch of Steve’s hand on his skin as he cleaned the stab wound. It didn’t matter, though. Because despite the pain, Billy felt safe.

“Listen, Billy, you need stitches. I really don’t want to have to do these myself and the bleeding’s slowing down, are you absolutely sure you don’t want to go to the hospital where a professional can help you?” Steve asked, looking at Billy from where he was kneeling between his legs.

In any other situation, Billy would be thinking about the way Steve’s lips would feel around his cock as they sat there. This wasn’t any other situation, though. Right now, Billy was on the verge of passing out and they were both covered in blood. It wasn’t fair, Billy’s brain supplied, this was the perfect position for a blowjob, but he couldn’t ask for one because of several varying reasons.

“No hospital,” he muttered, shivering at even the idea of going to one.

He hated hospitals. They reminded him of his mother, of that day in California when everything went to shit. Besides, if he went to a hospital, they would contact Neil and Susan. He couldn’t have that. Neil might actually kill him then.

Steve took a shuddering breath but nodded, shifting slightly to grab a sterilized needle and some fishing line.

“Alright, this is going to hurt, but not in the same way the alcohol hurt, okay? I promise, just a quick sting, like getting a tattoo,” he promised, threading the needle with the fishing line.

Billy nodded and swallowed tightly, taking in a few deep breaths. He barely felt it when Steve pushed the needle into his skin and began sewing him back together. He still wondered how the hell Steve Harrington knew how to apply stitches, but he couldn’t find it in himself to ask now, when he was lightheaded and tired.

They stayed silent as Steve finished the stitches and began wrapping his arm in a bandage. Billy wasn’t sure if he liked it or not. He was just tired. He wanted to fall asleep and then never wake up again. They repeated the cleaning process with the burn on his neck, covering it with gauze and medical tape. Finally, though, Steve was finished and looked at Billy after he’d washed his hands and put everything away again.

“We need to talk,” he said finally, still studying Billy in a way that made him squirm. He felt taken apart by his gaze, he didn’t like it. It was if Steve could read him, see through the wall he was trying to keep up.

He just nodded and Steve went downstairs to get him some juice to regulate his blood sugar levels. And then Steve Harrington was leading him to his bedroom.

-x-x-x-

He didn’t know what to expect as he entered the other boy’s room. It was cluttered, but under all the clutter and trash, he could see the person Steve’s parents tried to make him into. A mold he just couldn’t fit inside of.

Steve motioned to the bed, presumably telling Billy to sit. He did so and Steve sat across from him on his desk chair.

“What happened, Billy?” He asked, staring at him calmly.

Billy swallowed, looking away. He couldn’t tell Steve the truth, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie. He couldn’t do either and risk ruining their new friendship. He shrugged, looking away.

“Neil snapped and stabbed me in the shoulder before he kicked me out,” he said quietly. “I’m not going back, he’d kill me if I did,” he muttered, looking down at his hands now, they were shaking. He clenched them and forced them to still in his lap. He knew he was right. If he were to go back, he’d be killed.

Steve stared at him for a moment before sighing and looking at a poster on his wall. Billy couldn’t bring himself to imagine what was going through his mind. He didn’t know what to do. It was likely Steve didn’t either.

“What did you do to make him snap, Bills? You must have done something.”

Steve was desperate for information now, that much was obvious, but Billy didn’t know how to give him what he wanted without destroying the only half-decent relationship he had.

He shook his head, shrugging again. Nothing could make him say it. He was tired, in pain, and really didn’t want to be having this conversation. The passivity naturally turned into something akin to anger.

“Well how the hell do you know how to do stitches, huh? Why would a pretty little rich boy like you have to know how to do stitches?” Billy snapped, glaring at Steve. He was trying to get out of the conversation, trying to direct it elsewhere, like he had at the quarry when things got too personal.

Steve stared at him for a long moment. There was hurt in his eyes. Billy was the one who put it there and that fact alone hit him like a brick. He’d hurt Steve again without meaning too. He should leave. That would make it worse, though, wouldn’t it? Steve clearly had a thing about people leaving him. Based on how his parents were, how he reacted when Billy started pushing him away, and how Nancy fucking Wheeler just strung him along and then dropped him when she got bored...yeah, he shouldn’t leave.

“I know that you’re hurting right now, so I’m going to try to not take that personally,” he said, voice steady. His eyes never left Billy’s. “About a year ago, something weird happened,” he started, voice so serious that Billy couldn’t find it in himself to interrupt the other boy. “I didn’t...I didn’t tell you the whole story on what happened to Barb.”

When Steve was done with his retelling of what had happened the year before and then just a month prior and was looking at Billy expectantly, Billy just stared at him. There was no way in hell that this was real. Steve had to be pulling his leg.

“You’re kidding, right? Like, this is a really cool story, and I’m sure that it would make a great manuscript, but there’s no way you’re actually seriously telling me that this actually happened,” he said, ignoring the signs that it had. The things that lined up now. The puzzle pieces that were clicked into place.

Steve sighed and leaned back against his chair.

“I’m serious, Hargrove. Don’t pretend it doesn’t make sense, I know you saw what was in the Byers’ fridge.”

Billy froze. How did Steve know about that? Billy’d thought it was just some weird hallucination because of the fucking whatever-the-hell Max put into his system that night. His throat tightened. Shit. Did that mean that everything Steve said really happened? There were monsters in the woods.

“Billy,” Steve said quietly, snapping Billy from his thoughts.

He felt a weight on his knee and looked down. Oh. That was Steve’s hand. It felt oddly grounding.

“You okay, Man?” Steve asked, raising his eyebrow at him as he caught his eyes again.

Billy nodded and let out a shaky breath.

“I know it’s a lot to take in. Here, have some water.” Steve was handing him a glass of ice water that he must’ve brought up with the juice for himself.

Billy took the glass anyways, too lost in his own thoughts to consider that Steve might’ve been thirsty himself. He handed it back to Steve when he was done and exhaled a quiet, controlled, breath.

“So...there are things that aren’t from here and live in an entire different plane of reality that sometimes come over here and cause chaos and no one else knows about it except for you, the kids, Wheeler, and Byers?” He asked, making sure he got that all straightened out.

Steve shrugged, nodding.

“Well, and the chief, and Mrs. Byers--Joyce--and a part of the government. I shouldn’t even be telling you this, they had me sign a nondisclosure agreement. Gave me more money than I know what to do with,” Steve said, as if they were talking about the latest basketball game.

“What the hell, Steve,” Billy breathed, shaking his head and rubbing his hands over his face. “You’re an absolute moron,” he mumbled, falling onto his back and letting out a deep sigh.

Steve scoffed and moved to shove his knee, getting up and moving to lay down on the bed properly, staring at the ceiling.

“You have the right to know, I should’ve told you the truth when you found me and the kids at the Byers’,” he said quietly, making a pang of guilt thrum in Billy’s chest.

He shook his head. “You’re fine, Steve, it’s just stupid to break an NDA that you have with the fucking government.”

He didn’t want Steve to get hurt because of this. Really didn’t. He didn’t want him to get hurt again because of Billy. He felt Steve shrug and shifted slightly on the bed so that his legs weren’t hanging over the side.

“Lucas did,” Steve said quietly, letting out a sigh.

“The Sinclair kid?” Billy asked, earning a hum of confirmation. “Well he’s what, thirteen? It’s different since you’re an adult,” he said, nudging Steve in the ribs. “Whatever, though, I’m not gonna tell anyone. No one’d believe me anyway.” He yawned, exhaustion creeping up on him once again.

Steve looked over at him and hummed. Billy could feel his eyes analyzing him for a long minute.

“Let me show you to your room so you can get some sleep,” he offered, sitting up and moving to help Billy off the bed.

Billy hummed tiredly in response and nodded, letting the other boy lead him to one of the many empty bedrooms in the mansion. He understood better now why Steve had a thing with being abandoned by people; he was left alone everyday growing up in a place too big for a kid to live by himself. It was too big for anyone to live by themselves. It felt empty. This wasn’t a home.

As Steve moved to close the door after showing Billy to the room, he hesitated.

“I’m not going to push it,” he said quietly, looking at Billy openly, “but just...if you ever do want to talk about it...I’m here.”

Billy studied Steve’s eyes for a moment, searching for the lie. There was none. He nodded silently, trusting that Steve would keep his promise. Then, the door clicked shut and Billy was alone again.

-x-x-x-

The morning found Billy with an aching shoulder and being greeted with a loud yell. He shot out of bed and looked out the window. The sun was just beginning to rise. It was around eight, then. He frowned, it was Wednesday, he should’ve been at school already. So should Steve. But then...he had a fucking stab wound, he supposed he deserved a day off, as for Steve…

Billy got up and headed to Steve’s room, freezing when he heard the sounds inside. Crying. Steve was crying. Hyperventilating too by the sound of it. He bit his lip, debating on whether or not he should help. On one hand, he was convinced Steve would help him, but on the other, the other boy also deserved his privacy. He knocked quietly.

“Hey, Pretty Boy?” He was answered with a whimper. “Is it okay if I come in?” Another sob echoed through the silent hall and Billy opened the door.

Steve was curled into a ball on his bed, sobbing, breathing unevenly, and shaking. Billy closed the door behind him and calmly sat beside him. It was okay, he’d dealt with a crying Steve before, he knew how to help, a Steve in what looked like the middle of a panic-attack would be a bit more difficult, but he was sure he could handle it. He had them for a long time, and Max got them too sometimes.

He placed his hand flat on Steve’s back, rubbing it gently. Steve just cried harder, but didn’t move away.

“Stevie,” he said softly, “can you hear me?” Billy kept the soothing pattern going, hoping that Steve would be able to focus on that and his voice rather than the thoughts swirling in his head.

Steve hummed through his whimpers and sobs in response, hands clutching tightly to the plaid sheets of his bed.

“Alright, Pretty Boy, just focus on my touch and my voice, when you feel like you can speak, tell me five things you can see. Can you do that for me?” He asked, beginning to go through the familiar process himself out of habit.

It took another ten minutes before Steve responded and Billy just spoke while he waited, telling the other boy stories of his mother, the ones that didn’t hurt as much to talk about any more. When Steve finally did speak, his voice was quiet and raw. His shaking had diminished slightly, his breaths slightly more even.

“I can see my desk chair, my walls, the- the floor, um…” he trailed off, whining quietly.

“It’s alright, Princess, take your time,” Billy soothed, rubbing his thumb along Steve’s back.

“My...my sneakers, and uh, your- your leg,” Steve finished, voice shaky and tears still streaming down his face, but the given task had clearly helped. It gave him something else to focus on.

“Good, you’re doing great, Steve,” Billy praised, “now, take a deep breath for me,” Steve did so, though it was hitched and shaky. “Good, alright, can you tell me four things you can hear?”

Steve’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, letting out a quiet whimper, prompting Billy to move closer and take Steve’s head into his lap, running his fingers through his hair, something that helped Max in situations like this.

“You’re doing so good, Steve, you’ll get through this, it’s okay. Focus on your hearing.”

Steve took in another deep breath, still slightly shallower than Billy would’ve liked, but he was getting there.

“I...I can hear, my- my clock, my clock ticking,” Steve started, “um, your breathing, and your...and your voice.”

Billy hummed deeply, dragging his nails lightly along Steve’s scalp. How the hell was his hair so soft with how much product he used? He shook his head quietly at himself.

“How about three things you can feel?” He asked, watching as Steve’s hands relaxed their grip on his sheets, body finally beginning to give him back control.

Steve answered almost immediately this time.

“Your fingers in my hair,” he said, voice soft. “I can feel your, um, your shorts against my cheek,” Billy hummed in encouragement, “and my sheets under my hands and arm.”

Billy smiled softly, taking deep breaths through his stomach and diaphragm he hoped Steve would mimic. He did, the action helping to even out his breathing.

“What’re two things you can smell, Pretty Boy?” He asked, fingers still combing through Steve’s hair. It was soothing to the both of them, besides, for this moment, it gave Billy the opportunity to at least pretend they were more than they were.

“You and me,” Steve breathed, cheeks turning pink.

This time Billy really smiled, chuckling softly. He hummed.

“And one thing you can taste?”

“My tears,” Steve said, beginning to sit back up now, much to Billy’s disappointment. His hand fell back into his lap. Steve wasn’t crying anymore. “Thanks,” he said quietly, looking away, but pointedly not at the window overlooking the pool.

Billy hummed, glancing at the window and then back at Steve. Ah. Steve had nightmares. That made sense.

“Yeah, no problem,” he said quietly. He didn’t like the tension in the room. He noticed a poster on Steve’s wall. A promo for a movie that’d come out a few years earlier. One that he knew affected Steve’s view on his sexuality.

“So, Rob Lowe, huh? The Outsiders awaken something in you, Pretty Boy?” He teased, putting on his mischievous grin.

Steve scoffed and rolled his eyes, wiping at his cheeks. “Maybe,” he answered, smiling now himself.

The revelation of making Steve feel better, of making him smile, warmed something in Billy’s chest, and he looked down, leaning back on his hands.

“So, it looks like we’re skipping,” he said, looking at the clock. School’d started over an hour earlier. It didn’t matter, though, Billy was injured, Steve’d just had a panic attack, they deserved the day off.

Steve hummed, seemingly indifferent.

“You should take a shower, I can make us something to eat,” Steve offered, looking up at Billy, striking him once again with the beauty of the other boy. His eyes were swollen and red, irritated, but it was also beautiful. A kind of beauty one could see when a volcano erupted. It made his heart skip a beat and he nodded, in awe.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll, uh, unwrap my shoulder and be careful of the stitches,” he promised before getting up and moving to the door to head to the bathroom they were at the night before.

“Wait, Billy?” Steve asked, making Billy turn back to him.

He was fidgeting with his shirt, looking down. It was as if what he had to say next was embarrassing, hard for him to say.

“I just…thanks again, for, you know...helping. You really helped a lot, and usually I have to deal with shit like that alone and it sucks and takes forever, it was...nice to have you there with me, helping like that,” Steve was blushing hard now, pointedly looking away from him.

Billy grimaced, knowing how hard it was to have to wake from a nightmare and go straight into a panic attack all alone. He nodded, looking at the bed.

“Yeah, no problem, Steve.”

-x-x-x-

That afternoon, Steve approached Billy looking uncharacteristically nervous. They were in the living room, Billy was watching some shitty sitcom wearing some of Steve’s sweats and said teen had just gone to the kitchen to make them some food and answer a call. Steve’s nervousness made Billy nervous. What was going on? Was Neil looking for him for some reason? Were Steve’s parent’s coming home?

Steve ran a hand through his hair and rested his other one on his hip. He looked at Billy and chewed on his lip a bit.

“Hey, so, we’re heading over to the Byers’ tonight for dinner. Joyce has me over every Wednesday night to check up on me and I told her that I can’t tonight because you’re over and now she wants us both to go over there, and I can’t say no to her, so…”

Billy frowned slightly. He didn’t know Joyce very well, he’d seen her at the convenience store, but that was the most interaction he had with her. He also didn’t know Jonathan, or her youngest kid, what was his name? Will? That sounded right. It would be awkward, especially such since he’d broken her plate. He swallowed but nodded silently. He didn’t trust adults, but Joyce was small, if she tried anything, they’d be fine.

Steve looked at him for a second, studying him.

“Cool, she’s really nice and’ll probably try to adopt you after a while. She’s basically my mom at this point, just...don’t ask Will anything about..you know and don’t shit on Jonathan, either. He’s not awful, just...different.”

Billy nodded again and turned off the TV, stretching and getting up.

“When we headed over?” He asked, looking over at Steve expectantly as he began moving to the kitchen to grab a beer.

It was around four, the kids would be out of school by now, probably at the arcade. Max too if Neil let her. She wouldn’t skate in this weather. The snow covered the ground, the streets were cleared, but that was the extent of it, everything else was covered.

Steve glanced at the clock and shrugged, collapsing on the couch and turning on the TV.

“In like an hour? I usually help her prep dinner, sometimes I make it for her depending on how exhausted she looks.”

Billy hummed. Joyce seemed cool. Steve seemed to like her, to trust her. Maybe she wasn’t that bad. Maybe Billy could trust her. He’d have to see for himself, though.

“Yeah, that sounds fine,” he said, leaning against the side of the couch and watching as Steve turned the TV back on, switching to the VCR to put on a shitty movie.

Billy rolled his eyes and slumped back onto the couch, wincing at the pain in his shoulder. “Really, Steve? Monty Python and the Holy Grail?” He watched as the opening credits started.

Steve scoffed and scooted over to give Billy some room on the couch.

“Oh shut up, Hargrove, it’s a cult classic,” he argued, taking a sip of his drink.

“We’re not even gonna get through the whole thing,” Billy said, receiving an offended scoff from the Princess sitting beside him.

“Yes, and?” He asked, looking at Billy with a raised eyebrow.

Billy rolled his eyes again.

“Whatever, Princess, do what you want,” he said, smirking and turning back to the screen, leaning against the back of the couch.

The hour ended quickly and before Billy knew it, they were in the BMW on the way to the Byers’. Nerves were beginning to wrack up in him, anxieties of the what-ifs. He owed this woman a plate. She’d probably hate him for what he did to Steve, for the things his buddies said about Jonathan, about Will. He fidgeted with a cigarette absentmindedly, unaware of Steve’s careful glances to him. The silence in the car was deafening.

“You know she won’t give a shit about what happened,” he said, looking over at Billy again. “I trust you, I’m friends with you, she doesn’t care about the past. You’ve clearly changed a lot, Billy. That’s what she cares about.”

Billy let out a breath and shook his head.

“Whatever you say, Pretty Boy,” he mumbled, putting the cig in its case as they pulled into the Byers’ driveway.

He was itching to smoke, but he wouldn’t give in yet. He could tell Steve was looking forward to this. He couldn’t give in to his stupid addiction when Steve clearly wanted him to be present. Not yet. Maybe after dinner or something.

Steve knocked on the door and it opened revealing a small woman, clearly a mother, but not one Billy had the urge to charm. She was softer, kinder, and her home was radiating...it felt like a home. The way home used to feel before Billy’s mom left and Neil was at work. He swallowed thickly as she smiled lovingly at them, stepping aside to let them in.

“Steve! I just started cutting the veggies, you’re right on time.” She turned to Billy as Steve headed to the kitchen. “And you must be Steve’s friend Billy, I’ve heard so much about you. I’m Joyce, come on in and make yourself comfortable. Jonathan and Will are playing cards in Will’s room, but you’re welcome to the TV or to help Steve and me,” she offered, making Billy slightly tense.

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. She was so nice just letting Billy in like a fucking son. She barely knew him. Didn’t she? Did Steve talk about him? He let out a breath and followed her in, taking in the small home.

He cleared his throat.

“Yeah...yeah, I can help, what do you need me to do?” He asked, following her into the kitchen. She was so much of a mom it almost hurt.

She smiled warmly at him and gave him a potato and a peeler.

“Peel those over the sink, we’re making mixed vegetables with chicken and mashed potatoes,” she explained as she went back to the chicken.

Billy blinked before robotically moving to the sink to begin peeling the potatoes, glad that he didn’t have to move his left arm too much, the pain meds he took earlier that day were wearing off.

Steve looked over at him.

“You good?” He asked, voice quiet.

Billy nodded, silent. Steve sighed softly and went back to cutting carrots.

“I know she’s a bit much, it was for me at first too, but she really does care, Billy. If you stick around for long enough, she’ll start seeing you as a son. She did me. I think it’d be really good for you,” he said, voice still soft and gentle, as if he were approaching a wounded tiger.

“I’m not a charity case, Harrington, I don’t need your help,” Billy said, feeling his defenses going up. Steve didn’t have a right to interfere with his life like this.

“I’m not saying you do or that you are,” Steve said, voice still soft, “I’m just saying that if you need an adult, a mom, Joyce will take you in without hesitation. If you get tired of me and need somewhere to go, come here,” he said, finally, making Billy look at him.

He bit his lip but nodded begrudgingly, going back to the fucking potatoes. Steve looked over at him again before nodding quietly and going back to his vegetables. Joyce came in from the backyard with a plate full of chicken breast.

“You boys are doing great. Steve, can you go tell the boys dinner’s going to be ready in around ten or fifteen minutes?” She asked, giving Steve a look that made Billy feel like he was missing something.

Steve’s eyes flitted to Billy for a second before going back to Joyce and putting down the knife he was holding.

“Yeah, sure,” he murmured, glancing at Bily again before heading down the hallway.

Joyce leaned against the counter and watched as Billy peeled his potatoes. He frantically tried not to look at her, anxiety pooling in his stomach. What was happening? Why did she want to be alone with him?

“Billy,” she said softly, voice taking a motherly tone. One he hadn’t heard in years. “Will you please put down the potato peeler and look at me so we can have a talk?” He felt his heart stop, movements freezing.

He put everything down and turned to face the small woman. She was looking at him with a look in her eyes he’d never seen before. It was different from the pity he saw in so many mothers’ eyes. There was concern, love, and understanding. Three things that made his heart squeeze tightly in his chest.

“I know you don’t know me very well, and that you have a hard time with trust, but I want you to know that you are welcome here anytime you need a place to call home, Billy. You’re staying with Steve right now, and I know that, but if you ever feel like you need an adult to talk to, or another support system, I’m here. My ex-husband, the boys’ dad, was like Neil in a lot of ways. I understand to an extent what’s happened to you, what you must be feeling.”

Billy felt a spike of anger in his chest, and it must have shown in his eyes, because Joyce stiffened slightly and took a small step back. Regret and guilt swarmed him. He hated making people afraid of him, hated acting like Neil. It- he broke everything. Every potential relationship he could have was always ruined by his anger. It was the only emotion he knew how to feel properly. The only exception was Steve. But Steve was stubborn and stupid. He didn’t count.

“Billy,” she said, voice softer. “I just want you to understand that even though you have Steve as a support system, it can also help to have an adult. One that understands what you’re going through.”

He nodded silently, looking away, staring at the cabinet doors. He swallowed tightly, feeling the anger and regret turn into something that made his eyes sting and hard for him to talk.

Joyce took a step toward him and rested her hand on his arm, rubbing it gently with her thumb.

“Come here, Sweetheart,” she murmured, pulling him into a hug.

He stiffened before giving in and hugging her back tightly, pressing his face into her shoulder, hunching awkwardly. He didn’t realize he was crying until he felt her fingers in his hair. He felt safe in her arms. After a few minutes he took a shuddering breath and pulled away, refusing to look at her.

“Thanks,” he managed, fighting the urge for a smoke. His hands were shaking, he noticed, and she must have too.

“Of course, Sweety, that’s what I’m here for. How about you go out for some air and I finish peeling the potatoes, hm?”

He nodded silently and walked out the backdoor gratefully. He figured Steve’d told Joyce about Neil, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He was tired and confused as to how such a small woman had got him comfortable enough to cry in front of--to accept comfort from--so quickly.

He shakily lit a cigarette and put it to his mouth, inhaling deeply, and blowing it out, savoring the burn it gave him. The kitchen bustled with movement, Steve must have come back. He listened as muffled voices talked, probably about him. Something else filled his abdomen, something he didn’t like. He didn’t feel good about them talking behind his back.

After another cigarette, he came back inside and quietly helped set the table. Neither Joyce nor Steve said anything about his disappearance and continued their conversation about Rob Lowe. Billy blinked, so...Steve was comfortable enough with Joyce to talk to her about his sexuality. Great. She had to have a breaking point, though. Where was it?

The rest of the night was fine. Steve and Jonathan tried to get Billy to join their conversation too many times for his comfort. He preferred to just watch all the little interactions the family had with Steve, with each other. Will was excitedly telling Steve about a new campaign he’d started with the party, and Steve was listening intently. Joyce seemed to get that Billy wasn’t looking to participate, so she didn’t try to force him into conversation, but he could tell that the offer was still there. Will was looking at Billy shyly every now and then, and Billy recognized the look. He’d given plenty of lifeguards at the beach that look. He’d have to talk to the kid. He wasn’t a great person for a thirteen year old to crush on.

By the time they had to get back to Casa de Harrington, Billy could see some reluctance in Joyce’s eyes, like she wanted them to stay. Wanted to give them more time to have a mother around. Instead, she hugged them both, and if Billy let the hug linger for a few more seconds than was acceptable for his persona, that was between him, Steve, and Joyce.

-x-x-x-

They drove back to the manor in silence. Steve was occasionally looking over at Billy, but he didn’t look back, despite the burning he felt every time those doe eyes were on him. He looked out at the passing forest instead, imagining the kinds of things that had happened there. The battles the brats and Harrington won and almost lost. The beasts lurking in the shadows.

As Steve pulled into the driveway, he sighed heavily and looked at Billy again. Steve had heard his and Joyce’s conversation. That was something Billy knew for certain at this point. There was no way the tension in the atmosphere was coming from anything but that. The way Steve was treating him...like some porcelain doll ready to break at any moment. He hated it.

“Listen...Billy…” Steve said quietly, prompting the conversation they were about to have.

Billy shook his head and got out of the car. No. There was no way in hell he was having this conversation sober. He didn’t want to deal with Harrington’s pity or self-pity or whatever when he was as sober as he was. That wasn’t fair to him or Steve. If he were drunk or high, then things would go smoother. He wouldn’t lash out as easily.

Steve ended up following him into the house and watched him quietly as Billy poured himself a shot of gin. He could feel his eyes burning into him again. Tracking his every movement. The pity was sickening.

“Your and Joyce’s conversation was private, so I tried not to eavesdrop too much, alright? But she’s right, and you know she is,” Steve said quietly, as if treading on glass.

“Never said she wasn’t,” he muttered, downing another shot.

“But you don’t want to stay with her,” Steve pointed out, clearly having misunderstood the entire interaction between him and Joyce.

Billy turned to look at him and shook his head. “Never said that either,” he argued, trying to stop himself from glaring. “That’s not what we talked about anyways, she just let me know that it was an option,” he said, setting down the bottle.

Steve furrowed his brow, clearly confused.

“Then why were you-”

“Why was I crying?” Billy interrupted, slightly annoyed. Yes, he was very much attracted to Steve Harrington, and yes, he very much had feelings for Steve Harrington, but Godamnit was Steve Harrington annoyingly nosey when he was worried.

Steve sensed his frustration and bit his lip, nodding. Billy felt regret and guilt overwhelm him once more. He could see the hurt in the other boy’s eyes. He’d done it again. Hurt someone that cared for him. He sighed, letting go of everything he was feeling. He looked at Steve softly, scared he’d hurt him more.

“I was crying because I got angry and scared her,” he admitted, replaying the scene in his head. “Just got frustrated with myself.”

That was all he’d give him. It wasn’t that Billy didn’t trust Steve, it was just that he wasn’t very vocal about his feelings, the stuff that went through his head. He didn’t know how to be, couldn’t, really. Steve looked like he got it and nodded quietly, accepting what he got.

“Okay, I’m sorry I misunderstood. I just thought you were crying because she was offering you somewhere to stay but you didn’t want to say yes because you didn’t want to be a burden,” he said quietly, looking away.

Billy furrowed his brow and studied Steve for a moment. He was more vulnerable than Billy was used to. It clicked then. Joyce had once offered Steve a place to stay. He shook his head.

“I don’t worry about that sort of stuff,” he said, keeping his voice soft and understanding that they were both in vulnerable places in that moment. “If she offers a place to stay, then that means that she won’t see me or whoever she offers it to as a burden,” he said quietly. “She’s not that kind of person, I saw that within the first two minutes of meeting her.”

Steve finally met his eyes and swallowed, nodding.

“Pour me a shot?” He asked, breaking the tension in the room.

Billy chuckled lightly and nodded, pouring him some of the expensive gin and then his own shot. He handed Steve one of the small glasses, heart stuttering as their fingers brushed and lingered for a moment.

“To Joyce, the mother the both of us wish we had,” Steve said, lips quirked up in a small smile.

“To Joyce,” Billy echoed, raising his own before downing it.

-x-x-x-

The next morning was excruciating. They both had to go back to school, and Billy’s shoulder was throbbing along with his headache.

“We shouldn’t have finished dad’s gin,” Steve groaned as he choked down a piece of toast. Billy grunted in agreement and grabbed a glass of water to force into his system with an aspirin.

He was wearing the pants that he was wearing when he first made it to Loch Nora. Steve’d washed them, but the shirt was a lost cause. Instead, he wore one of Steve’s stupid sweaters. It smelled good, like Steve, but it looked off on Billy. It didn’t feel right. Didn’t feel like him.

“You’re gonna have to give me a ride, amego. Drop me off at my old place so I can get my baby back and some clothes so I don’t have to wear this,” he said, gesturing at the sweater.

Steve scoffed and rolled his eyes, feigning annoyance. When they met eyes again, Billy could see the concern.

“The old man’s at work by now, let’s just hope he left my keys at the house so I don’t have to hotwire her,” he grumbled, holding his head as it throbbed.

Steve sighed and moved to grab his keys and school bag, resigned. Billy followed him out of the house, noting that he’d have to get his school stuff too.

This meant that he was free, though. It meant that Neil wouldn’t be in his life anymore, right? It had to. Neil didn’t care. Neil wasn’t looking for him. He’d be okay now. He could be happy now. He watched as Steve unlocked the BMW, climbing in. His heart pounded against his chest as he got into the passenger side. He could be happy.

“My secret admirer doesn’t want to run away with me,” Steve said quietly as he backed out of the driveway.

Fuck. He forgot about that. Steve wouldn’t want him back. Not like that. Their friendship would be ruined if he found out. Steve would hate him. Queer or not.

“Did he say that?” Billy asked, not wanting Steve to have gotten the wrong message from his last letter. He’d gladly run away with Steve, but Steve wouldn’t with him.

Steve shook his head no and leaned back against his head rest. There was a slightly vacant look in his eyes. The same one he got every time he looked at Wheeler. It made something in Billy’s chest twang. The meaning behind it made his heart stutter.

“What did he say, then?” He asked, looking away. He couldn’t let his feelings take over. Not right now. Steve may have been growing feelings for Sinner, but he would never feel that way for Billy.

“He told me that I wouldn’t want to run away with him. Which is bullshit.” Steve actually sounded hurt at that. His voice was full of something sad. It was the almost the same tone he used when he talked about that night at his pool.

“Steve, you have to consider that maybe Sinner is a facade someone’s using and then got caught up too much in it. Maybe their real self isn’t someone you’d fall in love with and they know that,” he said softly, trying to knock some sense into his friend.

He didn’t want to be the reason Steve hurt so much. He didn’t want to hurt him. So he’d just make sure Steve wouldn’t fall further for Sinner. Making the entire secret admirer scheme completely redundant. Steve would never love him, but they were friends now. Maybe that would be enough. Maybe it would be enough to be at Steve’s wedding and be able to see him happy with someone who deserved him. The thought hurt, but it was more realistic than actually getting to have a relationship with him. It could be enough.

“I don’t think so,” Steve said softly. “I think that maybe he thinks that he’s right, but I don’t think he is. I think I could fall in love with him. Maybe I already have,” Billy’s heart jumped, “and maybe he’s too broken to believe that. I think that everyone’s worth a chance.”

Billy’s heart thudded in his chest and he looked at the other teen. Should he come clean? Should he risk everything he’s managed to build just for a sliver of a chance at a chapter or two of happiness with Steve?

The car stopped. They were at the Hargrove residence. Billy swallowed.

“I left your jean jacket in your locker on Tuesday, by the way. If I’d known you were coming over, I would’ve just kept it, but…” Steve shrugged, looking out at the vacant street in front of them.

Billy blinked, confused for a moment before remembering that he’d given Steve his jacket that night at the quarry to keep him from freezing his nuts off.

“How’d you get into my locker, Princess?” He asked, looking over at the other boy curiously.

“They’re obnoxiously easy to get into, dude, don’t give me that shit. I’ll see you after school, alright? I can handle the kids.”

Billy stared for a moment before chuckling lightly. He shook his head and began opening the car door, bracing himself for the winter wind and sting the snow would have on his skin.

“Whatever, Harrington, I’ll see you after school,” he said before leaving the car and heading to the house. Neil’s car was gone and in a manner of seconds, Steve’s was too. Billy took in a deep breath before opening the door to the house he once called his home.

Susan was in the kitchen with Max and both froze, looking at him in shock as he walked in. He shook his head, closing the door behind him.

“I’m not staying. Just getting my car and some of my shit. I’ll take the kid to school, but after that, I’m gone,” he explained, already walking down the hallway towards his room.

He had a bag packed within five minutes and was in the living room with his school stuff and said bag, waiting for Max to finish and for Susan to give him his keys.

“Billy…” the woman started, worrying her lip as she set the rag she had been using to clean the dishes into the sink.. “Just...be careful, okay? Take care of yourself.”

He grunted and looked away. Susan had never been a mom to him. She never cared to defend him though he did her multiple times. She was always too scared. She never gained the right to call him her son nor did she want to. He was too much like his father in her eyes.

“Whatever, where are my keys?” He asked, still not looking at her.

Susan inhaled shakily.

“Neil put them on his nightstand, with his watches,” she said timidly.

She always was a submissive woman. Billy wondered if that was why Neil picked her. Saw someone who’d bow beneath his wrath and charmed her into thinking he was someone he wasn’t before marrying her and showing her who he really was since she was too weak to do anything about it. It was sad. Billy was determined not to let the same thing happen to Max. He knew it wouldn’t regardless--she was too independent for her own good--but he did know that if she got on Neil’s bad side, any guy’s bad side, she wouldn’t be able to hold her own. If she found someone who wasn’t scared to hit a woman...Billy shook his head as he picked up his keys from Neil’s bed stand, not wanting to imagine it.

When he came back to the living room, Max stood there with her backpack and skateboard, looking at him expectantly.

“Alright, brat, let’s go.” He picked up his things and left the house, unlocking and starting his car.

Max climbed in beside him and stayed silent as he began the drive to the middle school. The silence didn’t last for long.

“Are you staying with Steve?” She asked, looking at the road.

Billy nodded. “Yep.”

“Are you sleeping with him?”

He felt his heart drop and he slammed on the breaks, making them both lurch forward.

“What the fuck, Billy?” Max yelled, looking at him as if he were crazy.

“Why would I be sleeping with Steve?”

Max shrugged, looking away again. Billy noticed the slight tremble in her hands and guilt flooded him. He wasn’t this person anymore. He didn’t want to scare her or anyone else anymore. Why couldn’t he just fucking stop?

“It just...you guys make sense together, alright? I know you’ve been crushing on him since we got here, and I know that you’ve been writing him letters since like Thanksgiving or something and if he’s letting you stay with him...I mean something’s changed, right? So is it really that radical to assume you’re fucking?”

Billy just stared at her and blinked before shaking his head and put his foot back on the gas.

“We’re not sleeping together,” he muttered, glaring at the road. “And we’re never going to be sleeping together, so you can drop it.”

The rest of the car ride was silent.

-x-x-x-

Billy went to get his jacket after school. He hadn’t seen Steve all day and couldn’t spot him in the crowded hallways as people got their things from their lockers and planned after school things with their friends. Presumably, Steve was getting stuff from his own locker so he could pick up the miscreants and they’d see each other afterwards at the Harrington residence.

Those plans went out the window when he saw a book page sticking out of the pocket of the denim jacket. It was taped together. Shakily, he took the page out and felt his heart sink as he read the words.

You left me – Sire – two Legacies –

A Legacy of Love

A Heavenly Father would suffice

Had He the offer of –

You left me Boundaries of Pain –

Capacious as the Sea –

Between Eternity and Time –

Your Consciousness – and me –

It was the poem. The first one Billy gave to Steve. The one he’d challenged Steve to find so he could finish it. He did. And he figured it out. There was a note at the bottom of the torn page, in Steve’s crappy handwriting.

Billy, Sinner, whatever. I...I get it. The pain. It’s a pain of not being able to show your feelings, your affections. It’s a pain of not being able to show who you are. We need to talk, I have things I want to say that I can’t through just a note.

-Steve

Panic shot through Billy’s veins. Steve knew. Steve knew and wanted to talk to him about it. Shit. Fuck. He couldn’t go back to his house. He couldn’t. There was no way he could look Steve in the face now that he knew. Where would he go? He didn’t have anywhere else to stay. The Byers’. The thought hit him like a brick. Would Joyce take him in like she said she would, or was she just being nice? He shook his head. She would. He was sure of it.

So, he went to the Byers’ and tried to ignore the urge he had to break down into tears. His hands were shaking as he approached the door, swallowing hard. Steve wouldn’t know where he was, or why he was gone. Billy was hurting him by leaving like this, but...he had to protect himself. He couldn’t risk getting his heart broken, even if it meant being alone again.

“Billy?”

Joyce’s voice rang out and Billy blinked. The door was open, Jonathan and Will were behind her. All of them were looking at him in concern. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out, his eyes were stinging now with unshed tears. Something about this woman made him allow himself to cry and he didn’t know what it was.

Joyce ushered him inside and suddenly, the other two boys were in Jonathan’s room and Billy was on the couch with Joyce, staring at his shaking hands as his tears fell. He still hadn’t said a word. Joyce was patient, though, a kettle was heating up some water for tea and she sat beside him, rubbing his back as she waited.

The whistle cut through the silence, and the warmth Joyce offered was gone as she got up to pour two cups of the cheap chamomile you could buy at the convenience store she worked at. She sat back down, resuming her earlier position, hand rested on his back, this time with two steaming mugs on the coffee table in front of them.

That was when he broke. He leaned into Joyce, pressing his face into her neck, sobbing. She held him close, hand instantly cradling the back of his head as she rocked them, murmuring soft words of reassurance, promising that everything was okay. It wasn’t though. Because Steve knew. It felt like hours before he finally pulled away, swallowing tightly and looking down at his clenched fists.

“Can I stay here?” He asked, voice hoarse.

Joyce made a quiet sound and pulled him into her side, rubbing his shoulder.

“Oh, sweetheart, of course you can, do you have your things?” She asked, fingers combing through his hair in a motherly way that made his chest ache.

Billy nodded, staring at his fists, not sure what to feel.

“In my car.”

She hummed, forcing the mug of tea into his hands. It was still warm. He looked at her, meeting her warm brown eyes. She was worried but determined to take care of him. It filled a space in his chest that had been empty for years.

“Drink. We can talk about what we need to talk about later, alright? I’ll have Jon set up a room for you.”

He sniffed and nodded, leaning into her side again as he took a shaky sip of the chamomile. She rubbed his back and shoulder gently, occasionally carding her fingers through his hair. They sat like that until Billy finished his tea and sat up straighter. Joyce got up and went to presumably talk to her sons about the situation, because soon, she came back with Jonathan and the other teen went to grab Billy’s stuff and set up the tiny guest room. Joyce was standing in the kitchen, watching Billy with a sad look in her eyes. It wasn’t pity, though. It was understanding. Understanding that if he’d had a mother who really cared or had the ability to care, he wouldn’t be in this situation.

“I’m sorry for just barging in like this,” Billy said finally, when Jon was done and was back in his room under the guise of teaching Will how to play some card game.

Joyce shook her head and took the empty mugs from the coffee table as Billy stood to help. He didn’t like feeling useless.

“You don’t need to feel sorry for this, Billy. I’m not upset, if anything, I’m glad you trust me enough to come here,” she said, watching as he started washing the dishes. She seemed to understand the need to do something, the need to feel helpful. “Did something happen between you and Steve?” She asked finally, looking for an answer as to why he wasn’t at Loch Nora.

Billy let out a shaky breath and shook his head, staring at the sink furiously as he scrubbed at a plate.

“Nothing happened,” he muttered.

Joyce hummed, and Billy could feel her careful gaze on him. She could see through his lie, but wasn’t pushing.

“When you’re ready to talk to someone about it, I’m here,” she said finally, grabbing her keys. “I have work tonight until nine. If you need something, ask Jonathan, I’ve told both of the boys not to invade in your business, but Jonathan will gladly help with anything you need, Billy.” He looked over at her, and she smiled softly at him, pulling him into another hug. “Jon’ll make dinner at six. Feel free to make yourself something if you get hungry, though,” she said, pulling away and pulling on her work vest. “Boys! I’ll be back at nine!” She yelled back to her sons before smiling at Billy softly again and closing the door on her way out.

Billy let out a breath and turned back to the dishes until they were finished and sat drying in the drying rack beside the sink. He, in the meantime, stepped out onto the back porch to take a well needed smoke.

The air was cool and crisp. The wind was sharp and stung his cheeks, making his eyes water. The view was dull, of the barren woods behind the house and the shed. Nothing more. Not long after he stepped out, the door opened and snapped closed as a second figure joined him. Billy glanced over. Will stood beside him, hands on the rail of the porch.

“Thanks for doing the dishes, it was my turn to do ‘em and I really didn’t want to,” he explained, still looking a bit timid.

Billy huffed, looking away and blowing out a cloud of smoke.

“Whatever, kid,” he muttered, trying not to think too hard about Joyce letting him do her son’s chore.

Will still didn’t leave and that confused Billy, making him look over at him again, confused. He was looking out at the woods quietly, looking like he was perfectly content in the silence. Billy blinked, looking back at the woods. He felt the kid’s gaze back on him and looked over again, raising an eyebrow at the blush spreading on his cheeks. He signed and shook his head.

“I’m way too old for you, amego, find someone else to crush on,” he said, finishing his cigarette but not bothering to light a new one.

Will made a choking sort of sound, and Billy could feel his embarrassment from where he stood.

“I’m not- I mean I-” He started rambling in broken sentences, clearly flustered and defensive. Billy sighed and finally looked over at the blushing thirteen year old.

“There ain’t nothing wrong with you, kid. Nothin’ wrong with how you feel, but I’m not the sort of person you should be fantasizing about. I know from experience. Try someone your own age, someone that isn’t like me,” he suggested, watching as Will stared at him, blushing hard.

“Wait, so are you-”

Billy nodded, letting out a quiet breath and looking at the dead grass surrounding the stupid shed.

“You tell anyone, and you’re dead,” he threatened, already knowing that Will wouldn’t say anything.

The kid nodded and followed Billy’s gaze.

“My dad says that fags are going to hell,” he breathed, making Billy flinch slightly.

“Fuck what your dad says. There’s nothing wrong with loving someone, and don’t say that word,” Billy said quietly. “If he’s right, he’s right, if he isn’t, then he isn’t. Does it matter? It’s stupid to go to hell just for loving someone with a dick.”

Will hummed, nodding to himself.

“Is Steve gay too?” He asked, making Billy tense slightly.

He shook his head.

“No, he isn’t,” he breathed, “he likes girls too. ‘S called bi, I think,” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face.

God, what was he going to do about Steve? He couldn’t avoid him forever. He’d see him at school, would probably get cornered by him at school. He didn’t want to deal with that shit. The door opened and closed again. Will was gone. Billy felt anxiety wash over him. He fucked up so fucking much. Everything was ruined.

-x-x-x-

The conversation with Joyce about why Billy wasn’t staying with Steve anymore happened as a bargain.

It was the morning after he showed up on her doorway, and she was trying to get him up for school. It was a compromise. He didn’t have to go to school that day if he talked to Joyce about what happened between him and Steve and why he didn’t want to go to school. Billy agreed because of course he did. He’d already come out to Will, he knew she was fine with queer people, he just had to say it all outloud. So that found them here, in Billy’s room, the both of them sitting on his bed, both waiting for him to say something.

“I’m gay,” he breathed, shocked with how hard the words hit him. He’d never said them to an adult before. He’d only ever said them outloud to himself in the darkness of his room as tears filled his eyes after he’d woken up from a wet dream about some stupid boy in his class.

Joyce sighed heavily and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“That’s okay. It’s okay to be gay, Billy,” she assured, rubbing his arm. “I’m not mad, Steve’s queer too, I’m perfectly fine with that.”

The stinging in his eyes didn’t come as a surprise to him as he prepared himself for the rest. He shook his head.

“That’s not...I’ve been writing Steve these- these stupid fucking notes,” he started, staring at his hands. “I put them in his locker and call myself ‘Sinner’ and they’re fucking dumb as shit because it makes me feel like a middle school chick waiting for life to be a romcom,” he took in a shaky breath, grateful that Joyce was letting him vent, not interfering until he was done. “I’ve been giving him shit that has sentimental value or whatever to show that I really like him, because I do, and he’s been doing the same, but he doesn’t know that it’s me, but now he does because I found this,” he took the book page from the pocket of the jean jacket laying on the bed, “in my pocket yesterday when I was getting my jacket from my locker and it’s the same poem I gave him the first time I left something in his locker and Steve told me that he left my jacket in my locker because I gave it to him after we hung out at the quarry one night because it was cold and now he knows and I can’t-” He broke off with a gasp, unable to speak anymore, it was all so much, panic and anxiety were flooding him.

Joyce made a quiet sound and held him close, stroking his hair.

“Sweetheart,” she murmured, “it’s alright. That’s all alright. It’s going to be okay, Billy. Let me see the page.” Billy handed it to her to let her read it, still leaning on her, pressing his face into her shoulder. He was hurting, he was overwhelmed, he had a mom for the first time in basically a decade, he could allow himself to be vulnerable. “You don’t know that he doesn’t feel the same way you do,” she said softly. “It even looks like he might. You should talk to him, Billy.”

He shook his head and let out a shaky breath.

“He won’t,” he croaked out. “He doesn’t. I’m not worth-” he was cut off by Joyce grasping him tighter.

“Honey, don’t say that. You’re worth his feelings, you deserve his feelings. If he doesn’t feel the same way, then it’ll hurt, but Billy, never say you’re not worth his feelings or his attention.”

Billy just pressed closer to her, clutching her arms tightly.

“Neil knows,” he breathed, not sure why he was telling her. He might as well, though. He was already spilling his heart out. “He...he found the notes Steve gave me, the things he gave me. He doesn’t know that it’s Steve, just his initials,” he let out a shaky breath as he thought about the flower. “There was this stupid flower, and it was so dumb, but…” he held back another sob, “he crushed it, and I don’t know why it hurt as much as it did, but it just…” he shook his head. “Then, he,” he gestured to the band-aid on his neck, “took a cigarette to my neck, a knife to my shoulder and I ended up at Steve’s. I know, by the way, about all the demon dog shit and the girl with telekinesis or whatever,” he muttered, staring at his lap.

Joyce watched him with a pained look in her eyes.

“Oh, Billy,” she murmured. “Is your shoulder okay?” Billy shrugged, gesturing to the tylenol bottle on his nightstand.

“Steve stitched it up for me, I’ve been taking those for the pain and keeping it as clean as I can. Rubbing alcohol and all that,” he explained, making her wince.

“Honey, that’s not-” she shook her head. “Let me take a look,” she murmured, pulling away a bit.

Billy nodded and took off his shirt, letting the woman unwrap his shoulder and examine the wound. Maybe he hadn’t fucked up as badly as he thought he did. Maybe everything was, in fact, going to be okay. Maybe he’d be okay.

When Joyce was done chucking his shoulder and rewrapping it, she directed him to go shower, which he gladly did. When he got out of the shower, he heard voices in the living room and froze. Who was here? School wasn’t supposed to be out for another two hours, and Joyce had said that they’d be left alone.

“Where is he, Joyce?”

Oh. It was Steve. The distress in the boy’s voice made Billy squirm. He didn’t mean to hurt Steve. He just didn’t want to face the humiliation of that conversation. He’d already overstepped enough just by showing up on Steve’s doorstep bleeding. He’d already overstayed his welcome by forcing himself into Steve’s life. He didn’t want him and that was enough, but now that Steve knows...he can’t humiliate himself like that.

He leaned against the bathroom door, sliding to sit on the tile as he listened to the two.

“He’s not ready to talk to you, Steve. He’s hurting and scared and doesn’t know what to do. Give him the time he needs to sort this out for himself.”

Joyce wasn’t technically wrong. That didn’t make the words sting any less, though. He didn’t like admitting that he was afraid. He liked it even less that Steve knew, that Joyce knew without having to have it said to her. She just knew.

“He doesn’t have a reason to be, though! What am I going to do? I like him back!”

Billy’s heart stopped in his chest. What? Sure, there were...signs of it now that he looked back, but Steve seriously liked him back? How the hell could he do that to himself? There wasn’t a reason to like Billy. Billy was mean and harsh and emotionally distant. Why would Steve like him back? There was no way. The only possible conclusion Billy could come to was that Steve was lying to himself to make himself feel better about having to inflict hurt upon Billy. It was such a Steve thing to do. He was too caring, too much of a mamma bear to break someone’s heart, so he lied to himself about it. It was the only thing that made any comprehensible sense.

“I know, sweetheart, but he won’t believe that right now…” Joyce’s voice softened to a volume Billy couldn’t hear then and a part of him was glad that he couldn’t. He didn’t want to hear what Joyce said about him, about the way she thought he viewed his and Steve’s relationship. It would make him think too much.

The front door closed shortly afterwards, and Billy’d never been more relieved to know that Steve was gone.

-x-x-x-

The more he thought about it, the more Joyce looked at him like that, the more Billy started thinking that maybe, maybe It was real. Maybe Steve did like him back. Maybe it was worth it to go see him to try and fix whatever it was they had.

That was how he’d ended up back in front of that damned heavy hickory door. He glared at it as if it had offended him for several long minutes before growling at himself in frustration and pacing in front of it for another several long minutes and finally rang the doorbell.

Steve was looking somewhat frantic when he opened the door and his expression softened immediately when he saw that it was Billy.

“Billy,” he murmured, dumbstruck as he stared at the other boy in shock.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s me, Harrington, don’t cream your pants,” Billy said, looking at their feet, cheeks warm despite the biting cold air around him.

Suddenly, he was nervous, his cool, nonchalant facade dissolved to nothing the moment Steve uttered his name. Steve stared and Billy shivered as a gust of wind slammed against his back.

“You gonna let me in or what, Pretty Boy?” That was what snapped Harrington back into the present.

“Shit, yeah, come on in,” Steve said, eyes wide as he stepped aside and gestured for Billy to join him in the warmth of the otherwise cold mansion.

The door closed behind Billy as he stepped inside, looking around the entrance way as if he’d never been here before.

“You got your jacket,” Steve noted, gesturing to the denim jacket Billy was wearing. The book page still sat in the pocket, folded up and hidden away beneath the palm of his hand.

He nodded, still looking at the few photos on the wall. There was just one amidst the strange art pieces. Steve was just a kid in it, his smile was large, real, full of the childhood innocence he’d lost too soon. Both of his parents held fake smiles, straining at the lips. There was weariness in Steve’s mother’s eyes, annoyance in his father’s.

Billy looked back at Steve. So much had changed. He looked tired, eyes holding a similar weariness that his mother’s had in the photo. It squeezed his heart. Steve didn’t deserve that. Steve deserved to be happy, loved, to love.

“That was the last family photo we took,” Steve said, voice soft, hesitant. “Dad was upset that Mom had even scheduled the damn thing with the photographer when she knew how busy he was with work, and Mom wanted to keep playing family. I was clueless. I was just happy that we were all together, doing something as a family, for real. That Mom and Dad weren’t fighting.” He sighed heavily and shook his head. “I didn’t realize how tired she was getting of it all, but she kept pretending because I was a kid, and I loved it when we were an actual family.”

“How old were you at the time?” Billy asked, knowing how tiring it could get when you realized that your family only pretended to be one. How tiring it could get to keep pretending.

He could see it, though. A younger, more lively Steve being excited to take photos with his family, something most children would whine about. He could see Steve being confused afterwards, when Mommy and Daddy told him to go play with his toys before going to the kitchen to have a yelling match. Steve crying quietly to himself in confusion as he heard his father’s office door slam shut and his mother opening another bottle of wine. He could see it, and it made him angry. It was a different kind of anger, though. The kind where someone he loved was hurt by something that they had no control over, but was unfair and in control of someone else.

Oh.

He loved Steve.

“I was seven,” Steve breathed, snapping Billy from his shocking realization.

He let out a shaky breath and hummed, swallowing. His throat was dry. He was in love with Steve the fucking hair Harrington. Shit. He was so fucked. This was a bad idea. This was such a bad idea. He shouldn’t have come here. Steve would hate him if he were to find out. But… that stupid look Steve was giving him…

“Billy?” He asked, taking a step forward, concern etched onto his face, making his brow crinkle in the middle.

“I…” He couldn’t say anything. He couldn’t move from where his feet were planted onto the hardwood floor.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Did I say something?”

The way that Steve was worrying about accidentally saying something that hurt Billy was unfathomably overwhelming. Steve cared so much. Why did Steve care so much? What did this mean? How should he react to this? How could he when he was too emotionally stunted to figure out his own shit? Why did it take this long for him to realize that he was in love with Steve when he’d been in love with him for...he didn’t know how long. He’d known him since late June, knew about his stupid attraction to him for just as long. It only worsened as Steve finally noticed him at the end of October. When did he fall in love with him? He didn’t know, he couldn’t pinpoint it.

“I’m in love with you,” Billy breathed, staring widely into Steve’s stupid fucking brown eyes.

He watched as worry turned into shock, then confusion, then understanding, then something that Billy couldn’t read.

His heart plummeted into his stomach. He’d messed up. He’d messed up so bad. Steve didn’t feel the same way. Steve didn’t feel the same way and he was so fucked for Steve that the realization burned him like a fire.

Steve rested a hand on Billy’s good shoulder and smiled at him, but it wasn’t sad which just confused Billy even more. What was going on?

“I know,” Steve said, still smiling, voice knowing and soft and it made Billy feel weird. He didn’t like it. He didn’t hate it either, though.

“You do?” He asked, letting Steve take his hand, lacing their fingers together. He couldn’t look away from Steve’s eyes though, needing to spot some sign of disgust, hatred, anything that would’ve been so easy to find on Neil.

Steve nodded, still wearing that stupidly fond smile.

“I do,” he confirmed, squeezing Billy’s hand. “Just like I know that you’re Sinner.”

Billy made a quiet sound and his breathing became shaky.

“Steve I…” I’m sorry.

He wanted so badly to say it. He needed so badly to say it. He couldn’t make the words come out, though. He couldn’t apologize for his love, though. He couldn’t bring himself to. So instead, he swallowed down the apology and watched Steve.

Steve, who shook his head and squeezed Billy’s hand again. Steve, who was looking at him like he’d hung the moon and the stars. Steve, whose face was mere inches from his own. He didn’t know when he’d gravitated toward him, but he supposed it didn’t matter. Because Steve was saying “It’s alright, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m not upset.” Because it was Steve who was looking at his lips and murmuring “I wanted it to be you.” Because it was Steve whose lips were being pressed against his.

Billy took in a sharp breath in surprise as Steve kissed him, stiffening for a moment before he realized what was happening and kissed him back. He was kissing Steve back. He was kissing Steve. Steve was kissing him. They were kissing.

He pulled away and stared owlishly at Steve, searching for a sign that he was lying, that this was a trick of some kind. He couldn’t afford that happening right now.

Steve laughed softly and used his free hand to cup Billy’s cheek.

“Billy, it’s alright. I like you. I want this just as much as you do,” he promised, thumb tracing over his lips.

Billy swallowed tightly and nodded. Steve kissed him first. It was okay. He liked him and was willing to maybe have a relationship. He was willing to try. Just like he promised. Billy let go of Steve’s hand and tangled it in his hair, pulling him into a deep kiss.

His arm snaked around Steve’s waist and he felt himself returning to his body as Steve kissed him back just as deeply. He smirked, voice back, everything that made him him was back. Because everything was okay.

“You’re not half bad at this, Princess,” he teased, pulling out of the kiss and resting his forehead against Steve’s.

“Shut up, Hargrove,” Steve said, rolling his eyes and leaning in for another kiss, “and don’t call me that.”

“You love it,” Billy mumbled, biting Steve’s bottom lip softly.

Steve’s scoff turned into a quiet moan at the action, pressing closer. Billy could feel his dick beginning to harden in his pants at the sound. He kissed him harder, tasting him, feeling him against his lips, feeling his arms around his neck, hands in his hair. He needed more. Steve’s chub was pressing against his hip, filling quickly.

“Steve,” he breathed, letting out a low groan in pleasure as the other teen rolled their hips together.

“Billy,” he responded, breathless.

And suddenly, Steve was pulling away from the kiss and grabbing his hand, tugging him up the stairs. They reached Steve’s room and Billy immediately connected their lips again, addicted to the feeling. Their noses squished together, and their teeth clacked against one another but dammit it was perfect.

Clothes were tugged off, and within a matter of minutes, they were on the bed, Steve underneath Billy, hands all over his body, mapping the skin needily. Billy kissed down Steve’s neck until he reached his collarbone and began leaving love bites that made Steve moan oh so sweetly.

“Billy,” Steve gasped as Billy rolled their hips together, desperate for friction, for pleasure.

He hummed, still working on leaving a nicely sized bruise on Steve’s chest.

“Billy, fuck, I need you.” And dammit if that wasn’t the hottest thing Billy’d ever heard.

He slipped his thumb under the waistband of Steve’s briefs and gently brushed his hip.

“What do you want, baby?” He asked as Steve’s hands tugged at his hair, pulling him into a kiss.

“You, just, please, Billy. I need you, inside me, sucking me off, riding me, I don’t care, I just need you.” Billy was wrong. That was the hottest thing he’d ever heard.

“Steve, shit, really? You’re sure?” He asked, hand moving to Steve’s cock and pulling it free from his briefs. He trailed his fingers down the length, teasing him.

Steve moaned, the sound just as addictive as his lips.

“Yes, yes, Billy, just please, give me something.”

Billy groaned and nodded, kissing Steve again, biting his lip, tasting his mouth as Steve shoved the bottle of lube he grabbed from his nightstand into Billy’s hand. Quickly, Billy took off his underwear and then took off Steve’s. He poured some of the stuff into his palm and rubbed his hands together to warm it up a bit before grasping Steve’s cock and slowly jerking him off.

Steve made a guttural sound and bucked his hips.

“Billy,” he whined, tilting his head back in pleasure.

Billy smirked, taking advantage of the opening and latching onto his exposed throat, marking him eagerly as he rutted against his hip.

“You’re absolutely sure?” He mumbled, fingertips trailing to Steve’s scrotum.

Steve whined again and his grip tightened in Billy’s hair. The sound made a heat he hadn’t felt since California pool in Billy’s stomach, and made his need for the other boy overwhelm him.

“Yes, Billy, stop asking me that. I’ll tell you if I need to stop. I trust you. Please, just- oh,” he cut himself off with a moan as Billy pushed his pointer finger inside him.

Billy chuckled lightly and began kissing down Steve’s chest and stomach as he fucked him gently with his finger. His hand was on his hip, keeping him from giving himself any pleasure. Steve writhed and moaned under his lips, making Billy smirk. He carefully teased Steve with his mouth, lapping at the head of his cock, tasting the beading pre.

“F-fuck, Billy, God, please,” Steve whined, bucking his hips weakly against Billy’s hand.

Billy hummed in consideration before working a second finger inside Steve while he took the older boy into his mouth. He sat there for a few seconds, savoring the weight of Steve’s cock on his tongue before slowly bobbing his head, taking Steve deeper with each downward movement.

“Oh God, B, your mouth, so good. You feel so good, tiger,” Steve praised, the nickname coming out of nowhere. Billy wasn’t one to complain, though.

A part of him still couldn’t believe this was happening, that he was about to fuck Steve fucking Harrington. King Steve.

His fingers went faster, driving deeper, searching- Steve cried out, loud, needy, voice high. Billy groaned around his cock as a stream of pre shot from Steve’s head, right onto his tongue. He tasted so good.

A third finger pushed into Steve and the ex-king of the school keened, gasping Billy’s name. He scissored his fingers, making sure to tease Steve’s prostate just enough to keep the boy moaning.

“Billy, fuck, please, please, I need you inside me, please, God, I’m ready,” he rambled, borderline sobbing as Billy hollowed his cheeks, pressing his tongue along the base of his cock as he pulled up.

He pulled off of Steve and moved to kiss him deeply.

“You want me to fuck you, Pretty Boy?” He asked, jabbing that sweet spot again.

Steve moaned into Billy’s mouth, bucking his hips down against his fingers now that he actually could.

“Yes, please, B, I’m ready for you, please, I need you so badly,” he whined, kissing Billy again desperately.

Billy hummed, taking out his fingers and grabbing the lube again. “Condom,” he murmured.

Steve whined pathetically, and collapsed against the pillows.

“Billy,” he whined, reminding Billy of that night at the quarry when they got high and Steve was saying his name just like this. It was more high pitched now, more full of need, lust. It was perfect.

“Steve,” he said sternly. He couldn’t risk giving Steve anything, and with the stupid gay cancer or whatever going around...no, they had to be careful.

Steve pouted but gave in.

“Drawer,” he mumbled.

Billy smiled softly and kissed Steve gently in reward for telling him where they were.

“Thank you, baby,” he murmured against his lips before grabbing one and tearing open the wrapper.

He rolled it over his cock and poured some more lube onto his palm, slicking up the condom. Carefully, he lined himself up with Steve’s hole and gripped his hands tightly as he pushed in.

“Fuck, Steve, you’re, mm, so tight,” he gasped, moaning as Steve’s hands went above his head to clutch at the pillows behind him.

“Oh my God, oh fuck, B, you’re so big. You fill me up so good, baby,” he praised, biting his lip.

Billy watched Steve with interest, he was so hot. He watched Steve for a long moment before grabbing a pillow and lifting Steve’s hips to put the pillow underneath him. Steve wrapped his legs around him, holding him close.

“Billy, please, please, move, I need you to move, B,” he begged, rocking his hips, trying to get more pleasure.

Billy grunted and slowly moved back, almost pulling all the way out. His hips snapped forward and he began a steady rhythm. Steve began moaning loudly, taking in every inch of his cock. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the pillows.

“Billy, Billy, please, fuck, I, oh, God, yes, you’re so good,” he moaned, practically sobbing as Billy fucked him.

He grinned as Steve writhed beneath him. He was gripping Steve’s hips hard, almost folding him in half as he worked on finding his sweet spot again. The heat in his stomach was building beautifully.

“Baby, you sound so nice moaning for me like this. Look so pretty with my cock inside you,” he praised, making Steve whimper, moving his hips to meet Billy’s.

When Steve arched his back and cried out loudly, Billy knew he’d met his goal and fucked him harder, faster, hitting that same spot with every thrust. Steve was at a loss for words it seemed like, the tension in every muscle growing until his moans began a gorgeous crescendo and he came, panting sweat slick, melting back into the bed as Billy continued fucking him.

“Billy, tiger,” Steve murmured, watching as Billy grew nearer and nearer to the edge with every movement. The tight hole around him was pulsing and hot and Billy was so close it was overwhelming. “Baby, I love you,” Steve breathed.

That was it. Billy came hard into the condom, finally slowing his hips and letting go of Steve. He panted hard, head hanging between his shoulders, forehead resting on Steve’s chest.

“Say it again,” he pleaded, looking up at Steve, seeing the bliss in his eyes, the post-coitle glow.

“I love you, Billy,” he murmured, and Billy surged forward, kissing him hard. Because Steve loved him. Steve loved him. Steve loved him. The thought went around in a cycle in Billy’s head.

“I love you too, Stevie,” he breathed when he finished kissing him.

Reluctantly, Billy sat up and pulled out of Steve, taking off and tying off the condom. He dropped it in the trashcan next to Steve’s bed. He laid down next to his..he didn’t know what. His Steve.

Steve smiled softly at him and kissed him gently. Billy kissed him back and sighed as Steve pulled away to grab some tissues and clean himself up.

“You okay?” Steve asked, snuggling up to Billy’s side and resting his hand over Billy’s chest.

Billy hummed, wrapping his arm around Steve’s shoulders and then turning to kiss him again.

“For the first time in a long time, Stevie, I am,” he admitted, thumb tracing his cheekbone softly.

It wasn’t even remotely close to a lie. He was happy. He was okay. They were okay. Steve loved him. He loved Steve. Everything was okay. Especially when Steve looked at him like that; his eyes soft, full of that emotion Billy now knew was love as he kissed his palm.

“Me too,” Steve breathed, moving to hug Billy tightly.

Hesitantly, Billy returned the favor, wrapping his arms around Steve’s tiny frame. He felt Steve’s muscles relax against him and his breathing even out. Just like that, he was asleep. Billy smiled softly and moved carefully, pulling the stupid plaid duvet over them, holding Steve close as he began falling asleep. For the first time since his mom left, he felt loved. Safe. At home.

-x-x-x-

 When Billy came back to the Byers’ the next day, he saw the chief’s car and his brow furrowed, worry overtaking his good mood. His heart stopped when he saw the old pickup his dad drove around. Without thinking twice, he ran into the house, eyes widening at the scene in front of him

Hopper stood protectively between Joyce and a very angry looking Neil Hargrove. His heart pounded in his chest. How’d Neil known that Billy was staying with the Byers? Did Max tell? Would she even do that to him? He knew she didn’t know, or at least, she didn’t before the incident. Did she know now? He swallowed tightly and took a step back as Neil began storming towards him.

Hopp moved and pressed his hand against Neil’s chest. He shook his head.

“You touch the kid, you’re going to jail, Neil,” he threatened.

Neil glared at the chief before turning back to his son.

“Should’ve left you in California to rot like your mother, you fucking fagot,” he spat, making Billy stiffen. He clenched his jaw.

“Skip town, Neil, you have until sunset,” Hopper warned, making Billy wonder what had happened that morning while he was safe with Steve, eating breakfast and kissing between sips of coffee. They’d been enjoying the Saturday morning bliss.

Neil glared at Billy as he walked past. Hopper’s grip was tight on his shoulder as he watched Neil leave.

“I’ll trail him, make sure he does what he says,” he said to Joyce, squeezing Billy’s shoulder for a moment before leaving to his own car.

Joyce looked at him softly and moved forward, hugging him tightly. Surprised, Billy hugged her back.

“Joyce?” He asked, pulling away to look at her in question.

The older woman took a shaky breath and glanced to the hallway. The boys were both still here, then. Billy wondered how scared she was for their safety. Wondered how bad Neil had gotten.

“He came here looking for you. Apparently, he’d heard through the grapevine that your car had been parked here for over a day,” she explained. “I told him that you weren’t here, and he got...mad. Hopper was coming over here like he does every Saturday and stepped in before things escalated too much. He…” Billy studied her face and felt guilt overwhelm him when he saw a red mark on her cheek. Neil slapped her. Anger swarmed him. “Billy,” she said, making him meet her eyes, her expression was sad, and she smiled softly. “This wasn’t my first time being hit by a man, sweetheart, you don’t need to get that look on your face.” She brushed her thumbs along his cheeks.

“But…” Joyce shook her head.

“It’s alright. It wasn’t your fault, and Hopper got the situation under control. Neil’s leaving town, he’s never coming back, alright? Everything’s okay,” she promised.

Billy made a quiet sound and hugged her tightly. He’d known her all of three days now and she’d been nothing but loving to him. She’d become something of a mother to him. What did he give her in return? A bruise. His stupid father gave her a bruise. Guilt festered deep inside him. He was free now, though. Safe. Max and Susan were safe. Neil was gone. That’s what mattered.

After a long while, he pulled away and sighed shakily, trying to wrap his head around the situation.

“Billy,” she said quietly and his head snapped back to her.

“Are you okay?”

The same question but in a different voice resonated through his head. The answer was still the same. For the first time in a long time, yes, he was okay. He nodded, staring at the door, itching for a smoke.

-x-x-x-

It took the brats all of one day to wrap their heads around Steve and Billy being together. They were all hanging out at Steve’s one night, making plans to have Christmas at the Byers’ and Billy’d come to sit next to his boyfriend. Steve had rested his head on his shoulder, tired from the nightmares that had kept him up the night before. Instinctively, Billy had wrapped his arm around his shoulders and rubbed them gently, kissing the top of Steve’s head.

The rugrats of course watched the entire interaction and had stared at them with wide eyes. Billy’d rolled his eyes and explained that they were “boyfriends, or whatever,” and the kids studied them suspiciously for a moment before going back to their plans. The only one who hadn’t come around yet was Henderson.

It was Christmas day, well technically the day after Christmas, and the kid was still watching Billy like a hawk, never taking his eyes off him. It’d been a week. It was annoying as fuck too, because it meant that he could hardly even touch Steve without the kid fucking glaring at him like he was Steve’s older brother or something.

Billy pouted on the couch, arms crossed over his chest while presents were being distributed. Henderson was sitting between him and Steve.

“Dustin! This one’s for you!” The Wheeler kid announced, tossing Henderson a small box. The box fell a few feet short in front of the couch and Dustin looked at it with an unreadable expression before looking at his friends in hopes of one of them giving it to him.

Max rolled her eyes at him and shared a look with the girl Billy’d only met tonight. Jane. Or El, the girl with the powers that Steve’d told him about.

“Get it yourself, doofus. Literally the only one who cares about them being together is you, let ‘em be, man.”

Jane followed Max’s assessment with a nod.

“You’re being overprotective,” she pointed out, making Dustin turn red and glare at the girls. He pouted for another moment or so before getting off the couch to grab the wrapped box and Steve immediately took advantage of the situation and leaned against Billy, snuggling into his boyfriend’s warmth.

Dustin turned back to them and rolled his eyes before sitting where Steve had sat earlier.

“He’s gonna corrupt you,” he whined at Steve.

Steve raised an eyebrow and turned to Billy.

“You planning on corrupting me, babe?” He asked, making Billy smile fondly. He really did love this stupid idiotic boy.

“Nope,” he said, popping the p and planting a kiss on his forehead.

Henderson scoffed but didn’t press further, clearly not seeing a point in fighting it anymore. He opened the gift and that was that.

Eventually, they got to Steve’s gifts for everyone. Until then, Billy’d gotten basic stuff, a new mixtape that Max’d made him, some jewelry, a shirt or two, and some new hair products. When Steve handed Billy his gift, he felt excited. This would mean something. He was sure of it. He opened the wrapping paper carefully and felt his eyes widen as he stared at the book in his lap. Selected Poems by Sylvia Plath. His favorite poet. He looked over at Steve.

He was sitting nervously beside him, staring at his hands as he wrung them together.

“I...I noticed that a lot of the poems you’d quote in your letters were by her, so I thought maybe I could get you a book of them since you don’t have one and it seemed like you really liked her. If you don’t like it I can-”

Billy cut him off with a kiss, holding him close. His heart swelled in his chest. He felt so loved.

“I love it, baby,” he promised, pulling away when he realized that they had an audience and blushed lightly, moving to throw the wrapping paper away.

When it was finally Billy’s turn to hand out gifts, he quickly went through his gifts for the rugrats--food, he got them all shitty food and some money--before handing Steve a larger gift, blushing and looking away as he opened it.

“Oh, Billy,” Steve gasped, taking out the fucking denim jacket.

He looked back at his boyfriend.

The meaning behind the gift was clear. To them, at least. It was a symbol of their love, home of his flower first, then the book page as it passed between them. Both objects having their own meanings of Billy’s hope, fear, and even love. To give Steve the jacket...it was giving him a piece of himself. They both understood that.

“Tiger,” Steve murmured, getting up to hug Billy tightly, hand in his curls. “Thank you, so much, B,” he whispered.

Billy smiled and hugged him back just as tight, happy to have made his boyfriend so happy.

“I love you, Steve,” he promised, pressing his face into his neck, ignoring the kids around them making grossed out sounds.

Steve pulled away and smiled, his smile saying everything that he didn’t out loud. I love you too. He kissed him softly for a long moment before pulling away again and sitting back down, tugging Billy with him. He wiped away some stray tears and leaned into Billy’s side, hugging the jacket to his chest.

“I’m giving this back to you when it stops smelling like you, you know,” Steve said softly as they watched the miscreants begin a new D&D campaign on the living room floor.

Billy smiled, playing with the strands of hair at the base of Steve’s skull by tugging on them lightly.