Steve’s house has,, an odd lay out.
Billy’s is just rooms all in a row, a kitchen a living room, a hallway. Two bedrooms, a bathroom. Master bedroom, master bathroom. Unfinished basement.
That’s it.
But Steve’s, Billy could get lost in there.
He had two, two, living rooms. One was for television and the other was just for show. A sitting room, Steve had said. There was a dining area off the kitchen, and a formal dining room. Complete with oil painting of the Harrington family and a big mahogany table.
Then there was the rec room downstairs, a bar built into the wall, soft couches and a huge 35 inch t.v. There was a dart board and a billiards table, and every time the two of them tried to play pool, they ended up fucking on it instead.
The master bedroom is unlike anything Billy’s ever seen.
It was enormous, had it’s own fireplace and two walk in closets. And the en suite bathroom was bigger than Billy’s whole bedroom. Billy liked the bathtub, liked that they could both fit in it.
And Mr. Harrington’s study.
Billy only liked going in it when he was a little bit drunk, when the thrill of defiling that perfect son on that perfect oak desk outweighed the nagging fear of somehow getting Steve into trouble.
The upstairs was all guest rooms, three of them with two bathrooms. Steve had his own bathroom.
Steve’s room was weird to Billy.
He was expecting, more.
Even his own room had some personality in it, had Metallica posters and hot chicks plastered up.
Steve had plaid.
Lots and lots of plaid.
But then there was more to this house.
There was another upstairs, like someone had just tacked another house right on top.
The upper rooms were mostly unfinished, attic space used for storage.
Labeled containers of Steve’s baby things, furniture that had been moved out of rotation, holiday decorations Mr. Harrington paid someone else to put up.
But there was one attic room that Steve had claimed for his own, made it a little nest.
The couch was worn, apparently had been in the rec room for some time. The television was small, and fizzed out a lot, but there was a decent record collection, and some books, and-
Here it was.
This is where Steve kept his personality.
There were old baseball trophies and love letters from girls. There were lewd drawings and shitty poems and worn out journals.
He had tacked up posters, everything from Queen to Prince to Trooper to the Grateful Dead. He had taped pictures and Polaroids to the walls, tiny Steve and Tommy covered in mud, a young Carol wearing a pissed-off expression. There were even some of Billy now, some blurry ones from parties, a dimly lit one Billy had clumsily taken, Steve asleep in his lap.
There were hand knitted blankets and skeins of yarn ready to create more.
There was cheap liquor and probably eight different bongs.
It was Billy’s favorite room in the whole weird house.
It felt lived in, not just for show like the formal dining room, the sitting room, the master bedroom.
The room had a soul.
And it felt safe, felt like the safest place in the whole world as they curled up on the couch, swearing whenever the t.v. fizzed out too much for them to see what was happening.
It’s where Billy felt safe enough to talk about his dad, to cry about his mom. Where he felt safe enough to pull Steve to standing, and dance with him like they were at some lame cotillion. It’s where Steve’s laugh sounded the clearest, where Billy heard the words I love you for the first time and actually believed them. It’s where Billy saw Steve cry for the first time, stoned out of his mind and wailing about how he was a disappointment, how he would amount to nothing.
It’s where Billy realized he was in love. Realized he would probably never feel the same visceral adoration for anyone other than Steve.
It’s where Billy ended up proposing.
As they were tangled together on the old couch, naked and sweaty and out of breath. Only a few hours since Billy had been handed his high school diploma.
Where he said, run away with me and for forever, Pretty Boy and never gonna love anything like I love you.
And that’s about as close as they could get to anything legal.
And everywhere they lived together, every dilapidated apartment, and tiny house, Billy made sure the whole place felt the way that attic did, felt as safe and warm and blissfully happy.
