more like wally-wants-to-write-but-no-motivation

But he tired his best to ignore those too. Because he knew better. He knew it was dangerous, allowing someone to mean that much to him. His mother had made that very clear, reminding him over and over again what she is forced to do for him, what she is forced to sacrifice to keep him safe. The burden of letting someone mean something to you. As if it was his fault. As if he wanted to be here at all.

But sometimes, when he was particularly tired, or just feeling more alone than usual, he allowed his thoughts to wonder. Only for a moment, he would tell himself. Of course, they never only lasted a moment. The idea of having a soulmate still sounded ridiculously stupid to him, but.. the idea that somewhere out there, there was someone who understood Neil more than anyone else ever would, made him feel so calm, so seen. And somehow, Neil found solace in that.

And that thought became his new motivation, after he had to bury his mother in California. To survive, not only for himself, but for his soulmate. A sudden determination to prevent his soulmate from feeling any more unnecessary pain. For he couldn’t protect his soulmate from their demons, but he sure as hell could try to protect them from his own.

It was still hard, of course. He was Nathanial Wesi— Neil Josten, after all. Pain was his life, and he always did have a bad mouth and horrific temper that got him into more trouble than he would like to admit. Because somehow his mother could never manage to beat those habits out of him, no matter how hard she tried to.

And then on the other days, when his arms started to burn and sting for no apparent reason, he felt the crippling urge to grab a sharp object and drag it across his own skin, his own demented form of what he thought could be comfort for his soulmate, telling them that he is here, and he understands.

And then there were other days like this, days where he was hidden up in an abandoned house, wet carpet and mouldy wallpaper causing his stomach to churn as he held his body close, that he couldn’t help but feel the longing of being with them, whoever they may be. And he felt stupid for wanting it, for wanting something he could never have, with someone who he has never met.

And so he allowed himself that one moment of weakness to thaw out the sting in his heart, allowing himself to rest just for a moment in hopes to catch and glimpse at his soulmate.

He hadn’t felt that same pressure and pain from his soulmate in a while, which he hated himself for being grateful for. But sometimes, if he fell into a deep enough sleep while his soulmate was still awake, he could still see images and scenes flashing through his head behind his closed eyes. The only thing that is able to make Neil feel safe anymore, despite his internal struggle with the thought.

And more and more recently, Neil felt himself doing that more often. Trying desperately for any way to feel something other than his own anxieties and heart thumping against his rib cage. Pretending he doesn’t wake up feeling good and safe after watching his soulmate do nothing particularly interesting, nothing more than just being there, safe, alive.

But often, when they both sleep at the same time, Neil dreamt of the nightmares that his soulmate had, the same hands grabbing and scratching and pulling and — those are the nights Neil wakes up drenched in sweat, his body aching and shaking as he tried to calm himself down.

The first thing he sees when he falls asleep now, is the flash of sliver in his eyes, light reflecting off of a small knife his soulmate often found themselves playing with. Wherever his soulmate was now, it was daytime, the sun high in the sky above them. They sat on the roof of a building, legs dangling over the edge, moving the knife around in his grip as he glanced out towards the ground, before his vision moved to look at the buildings that stretched far out from where he sat, his eyes focusing on the trees that seemed to be surrounding him.

Neil didn’t know much about his soulmate. He thinks that his soulmate is a man, given by their large strong hands he often gets to stare at, but that’s no guarantee of gender. He knows his soulmate is short, whenever they are around anyone else they always seems to be looking up. And he knows what is hidden underneath those black armbands they always seem to be wearing, despite never having seen it for himself. But he felt it, every single one, for long enough to know that they must have scarred.

Neil could feel his soulmate breathe out as smoke surrounded him instantly, a slight burn to his lungs telling Neil that they were smoking, which somehow only soothed the ache in Neil’s chest more.

Neil had been here before, many times. His soulmate often found themselves up on this roof, staring out to the ground below, watching and listening and waiting. For what, Neil wasn’t sure. But it did good to calm him down.

He could never place where he was, though. A university was the only viable option he had managed to come up with, the building surrounding him looking like campus of some kind. Where he had no idea, and often wished his soulmate would give him a sign, anything to hint at where he might be.

He wasn’t sure how long he spent stuck in his dream, and he would never admit that he enjoyed being surrounded by his soulmate, sharing the silent moment together, but eventually, and disappointingly, Neil woke up, still feeling his soulmates fingers tapping on the pulse at his neck. He couldn’t help but bring his own hand up, pressing his thumb into his pulse to feel his heart slow down to its normal rhythm.

A groan escaped him as he finally pushed himself up, stretching out his arms and back, his shoulders popping from the force. His body ached from the way he had fallen asleep, and when he looked outside, the sun was beginning to set.

Neil sighed out, already feeling less warm and wholly more empty, pushing himself up onto his feet and silently heading towards the door.

He didn’t travel that often at night time, not wanting his soulmate to potentially see anything incriminating. Because as much as he knew he wanted to find his soulmate, to be with them, he knew he couldn’t. That, choosing that wasn’t even an option.

Because not only would it put Neil at risk, but it would put his soulmate at risk too. And, despite all his denial, Neil already knew that he broke his mothers biggest rule. That, despite years and years of her abuse, he still somehow managed to ignore it all. Because as much as he hated it, he knew he cared. But that also meant he cared enough to stay away.

So, instead, he would have to survive purely off of the small, quiet, safe moments he can have inside his soulmates head, only allowing himself to live in the bliss of who should have been his, and who was meant to be his for a short moment before reality came crashing back down towards him.

It wasn’t comforting, and it most likely did more damage than it did good, but it was his. The only thing he will ever let himself hold on to. And once he finally accepted the longing and pining and empty feeling he gets when he thinks of the one he couldn’t have, he allowed himself to hold onto those moments, those feelings. Knowing they will never be anything more than that, but needing them. Needing to feel something other than dread, and loss, and pain. Needing his soulmate, in more ways than he ever thought he would.

~

Andrew could feel him the moment he arrived, the small hum at the back of his head a tell-tale of when his soulmate was there, watching, listening. He came often, always at weird times of the day, and Andrew always tried his best not to care, to be indifferent about the whole thing. But, every time his soulmate would appear, his chest warmed and his stomach clenched and his breath hitched and-- well, it made Andrew feel more human than he’s ever felt in his life.

But he hated that. Feeling. Good or bad, feelings were dangerous. Soulmates were dangerous, especially for people like Andrew.

And he knew that his soulmate understood pain. He could feel it, every time something scratched and cut and burned at his skin. Has even seen the scars left over on his soulmates body, all big and deep and harsh and long and-

Andrew made a habit of pushing those thoughts deep, deep into the back of his mind, for him to never unpack or think about again. Of course, it never worked. Because even when he wasn’t inside his soulmates head, he could still see them, clear as day. A downfall to his eidetic memory, never being able to unsee them after he did.

He didn’t mean to. Stupidly fell asleep after a particularly long class, his mind instantly appearing at the back of his soulmates head. Only stayed long enough to watch the lean boy patch up another ridiculously deep looking scar on the side of his stomach, his reflection in the mirror covered in raised flesh and fresh blood. Andrew didn’t know how he forced himself awake, but he’s thankful that he did.

Andrew didn’t see his face. Didn’t want to see his face. Didn’t want to see the boy who was meant to be his, and would never admit it, but he was scared of what he would find. Because he knew scars, and he knew shitty parents, and he knew bad childhoods, but that.. and those scars.. and he-

He couldn’t think about it. Not without his whole being shaking with rage. He’d been working hard with Bee, to try and push down those negative, explosive emotions that always got him in trouble.

He could feel his heart begin to thrash harder against his chest, his soulmate still a pressure in the back of his mind as he lifted his hand, pressing his finger into his neck, tapping on his pulse every time it moved until it slowed down, settled.

Bee always said it was normal, to feel these sorts of things for someone you involuntarily care so much about. Not that he would ever admit he cared about his soulmate. He didn’t have time to unpackage that.

Nicky was just happy that Andrew was feeling anything, which, okay, he gets it. Andrew was.. bad. He knows he was bad, when the drugs took over his system. He knew he was bad once they were gone, too. But Andrew and getting better and feelings never really seemed to go well together. Because life didn’t work like that.

He lost track of time like that, eyes staring out onto campus below, but not really paying attention, finger tapping against the pulse on his neck, mind most definitely not thinking about his stupid soulmate and his stupid scars. Only realised how long he had sat there, filling his lungs with smoke and his head with thought about anything else, when the pressure in the back of his head simmered out and disappeared, his chest tightening against his will at the loss.

That only made him angrier as he flicked his cigarette off the side of the building, lighting another one up in an instant.

It was the one thing he hated most about his soulmate. He hated the fact that someone at all, let alone someone he hadn’t even met, had so much control over him and his emotions. Hated that this scarred, broken boy can cause him to feel so much more than he ever has felt before, just by being there in the back of his mind. Hated how his body reacted to him, how his body wanted him. Hated the fact that someone else and any control over him at all.

Nicky had tried numerous times to convince Andrew that is wasn’t a bad thing, that it wasn’t dangerous. But it was a lost cause.

Sure, Nicky and Erik seemed stupidly happy together, and now that Aaron has found Katelyn, he has become only slightly more tolerable than before. Though, Andrew thought that was only because he spent more of his time with her, and therefore away from Andrew.

But then his mind thinks back to his parents, soulmates, who couldn’t even bother to stay together when Aaron and him were born. To all the soul-mated parents he had while in the foster care system, who had given up on him just because he was hard, and difficult. Who had given up on each other, because it was hard, and difficult. Thought of his soulmates parents, who Andrew had witnessed hurting him on many occasions. Who had hurt each other many times, too, letting their child watch from the side-lines, terrified that he was going to be next and -

No. Soulmates were nothing but dangerous. Andrew knew it was true, and wouldn’t let anyone convince him otherwise.

One moment he was there, and Steve could remember it all so vividly, like he never left. The way he smiled whenever Steve would say something stupid, or how tight he would hold him at night, scared that he would be gone by the time he woke up. The way his eyes would gleam and his smile would soften whenever Billy thought Steve wasn’t paying attention, that Steve wouldn’t notice the longing, loving stare Billy always seemed to have when it came to him. The way Billy was so gentle, so careful with Steve, his hands, his words, his lips.

But then, within another moment, he was gone, like a dream you can’t quite remember, a name on the tip of your tongue you can’t quite reach, the feeling of knowing but not having, the feeling of losing, but not realising. He was gone, so fast, all at once, but the feeling of it still so slow, like noticing your ice has melted, wondering how long has it been melted for? When did it melt? When did he go?

And that time in between was a foreign concept to Steve, something he tried hopelessly to remember, to understand, but just couldn’t seem to grasp enough of it to hold on to. And that’s what hurt the most, what haunted him more than anything else. And suddenly, he hated Christmas again. 

And the ache, the pain he felt was almost unbearable. Something he’s never felt before, something he never expected to experience, not yet, not now, not like this. A heartbreak worse than a heartbreak, too harsh and too sudden, a sting, and a burn, and an ache worse than what those Russians ever did to him. Worse than what his parents ever did to him, what Nancy ever did to him. And it was heavy, a deep feeling within his chest and his stomach and his head and his heart. And it burned and burned and cut and gnawed at him until there was nothing left. Nothing but an empty shell of the boy he once was, so naïve and unloved and alone. A fire burning in his soul, getting hotter and deeper, until everything that once was Steve Harrington was now reduced to nothing more than ash.

And no one understood, how much it affected Steve, no one really. Their relationship was a secret, something they shared behind closed doors, in the dark, when no one was paying attention, when no one bothered to look, to notice. Max was the closest to understanding the pain, losing her brother, not realising how much she actually cared, how much Billy had meant to her until it was too late, until he was gone. Steve remembered Max crying to him, head buried into his chest, arms wrapped tightly around his waist, worried that Billy didn’t know how much she cared, that she did love him. Devastated that she never told him how she felt, that she couldn't even say goodbye to his body.

That was the hardest part, Steve thought. Not being able to say goodbye, to see him one last time, to tell him that he loved him. They never found his body, but they didn’t expect to, not after everything that happened to all the others. But that didn’t stop Steve from looking, every day, every night, desperate to find something, anything. It wasn’t until Joyce found him, lying almost dead in the cold one winter night, that he knew it was over, that he needed to stop. He didn’t remember much from that night, except sobbing into Joyce as she held him, letting him cry it all out, telling him that it was going to be okay. He didn’t believe it, couldn’t, but for one moment he let himself be fooled, let himself pretend that she was right, that it would all be okay. But somewhere deep down, where the fire still burned away at what was left of him, he knew it wouldn’t get better, that he would never be the same. Not again, not after Billy.

That’s how he felt now, the week before Christmas. It had been a year since everything happened, but Steve felt more alone than he ever had. He knew it was his own fault, pushing people away tends to do that. He learnt that from his parents, but despite how much he despised them for it, he couldn’t help it, isolating himself off from the outside world, from anyone that cared about him. Because he didn’t see the point anymore. 

But that didn’t stop a few of them from checking in on him every now and again. Joyce and Jonathan brining him a homecooked meal at least once a week, Hopper stopping by every now and again to make sure he’s doing okay, Dustin trying always to get Steve to hang out, Robin breaking in to his house to just be there, to help him feel less alone. Max was the only person Steve really found himself letting in, opening up to, but he still didn’t speak much. Didn’t have the energy to, not anymore. 

And he had some good days, some days where he would laugh at one of Robin’s stupid jokes, or where Dustin and Max would convince him to have a shower, and go out with them to the movies or the arcade, or where he would eat a little more than usual, causing Joyce to smile in hope that it was helping, that he was getting better. Days where Jonathan would just sit with him, be with him, telling him stories until he actually found himself falling asleep for the first time in weeks, found peace and solace for a moment before his brain turned back on and he remembered. But the bad outweighed the good on most days, and a day didn’t go by where he wasn’t thinking of him. Of his Billy.

And the nightmares, and the terrors plagued most of his nights, and the constant waking up drenched in his own sweat, screaming and crying out for Billy had him so tired, so fucking exhausted that it would keep him awake longer than his body was able to be. Keep him awake until he was throwing up from exhaustion and passing out on the floor, because he couldn’t physically stand anymore.

And it was hard, no one understanding what was happening. Most of them thought it was just how he was coping, with the trauma of everything that happened; the mind flayer, the demo-dogs, the Russians, Starcourt. Any normal person would go clinically insane after everything that Steve or any of the others went through, so it wasn’t unusual for them to think that what had happened must’ve broken him, caused a mental break, caused him to go insane. Robin knew it was deeper than that, the only one knowing that Steve even liked guys. He never told her about Billy, but she was smart, and it wasn’t hard for her to figure out why Steve was breaking so much. But she never spoke of it, didn’t want to make it worse for him, wanted to help him forget.

There was a point where they didn’t think it could get worse. But apparently for Steve, crying every night, not eating in weeks, refusing to speak to everyone wasn't his worst, wasn't his ultimate low. No, his ultimate low involved his wrist, and any sharp object he could find, because at least then he was feeling something.

But then one night, while he was sat on his bed, staring at the wall, no energy to sleep but no energy to do anything else, the hairs on his arms stood up, the white noise around him freezing in time. And that’s when he heard it. A sound he thought he would never hear again, one that brought tears to his eyes, held more memories than he thought he had. A noise that was wholly Billy. Thick and dark and heavy, the revving on an engine, of his engine. A ‘79 Chevrolet Camaro, the same one Billy drove into the school parking lot his first day, the same one they shared their first kiss in, the same one that was completely and entirely Billy, all violent and charming and dangerous and his. 

The same ‘79 Chevrolet Camaro lost a year ago. 

And Steve couldn’t explain the feeling, couldn’t organise his thoughts, process what was happening. All he knew is that, that sound, that feeling, was his. Was his Billy. A feeling he’s wished for, ached for, longed for, for so long, a feeling just out of reach. And somehow, now, he knew all the answers, knew exactly what was happening, what it meant, what he needed to do. 

And he breathed for the first time, in what seemed like months, and he felt his heart in his ears and his pulse thumping in his head. 

They were laying in bed, still tired and covered in sweat and other bodily fluids from the multiple orgasms they happily endured together. Billy held Steve to his chest, his hands still tangled up in his hair, Steve’s leg over Billy’s waist and arm across his shoulders. They did this often, usually leading them to drift off to sleep and wake up the next morning sticky and gross but together, so they never really minded. But today was different, because Billy couldn’t stop his mind from racing, trying to figure out why. So he started to play with Steve’s hair, letting the words fall from his mouth.

“Hey Stevie?” he asked, moving one arm down to hug Steve around his waist, holding him closer, loving the weight of Steve’s body on top of his own. Steve shifted slightly, getting more comfortable as he spoke.

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?”

Steve nodded in response, placing a kiss to Billy’s chest before snuggling closer. Billy sighed, his hand tugging at the hair on the nape of Steve’s neck as he spoke.

“You don’t call me by my last name anymore.”

Steve paused for a moment, furrowing his eyebrows slightly, placing another kiss onto Billy’s chest, another to his neck before he snuggled back into his body. Billy’s hands didn’t stop moving, one up his back and one in his hair.

“You noticed that?” Steve asked softly, not so much a whisper, still loud enough for them both to hear as Billy nodded his head, managing to pull Steve’s body even closer.

“Yeah. Why?”

Steve pushed himself up onto his elbows, his eyes wandering over Billy’s face as he thought, of where to start, what to say. He pecked Billy on his jaw, another on his lips as his hand moved to his forehead, brushing a stray piece of hair back as he spoke.

“Do you know when I stopped?” he asked, his glance lingering on the piece of hair he pushed back before they moved to Billy’s eyes. 

“About a month ago?”

“Yeah.. it was when I found out what Neil does to you.”

Billy’s hands paused for a moment as he furrowed his eyebrows towards his boyfriend, remembering the day Steve found out. He was out driving late at night, trying to hold back tears from his conversation with his father. It was pouring down with rain, and he could barely see a thing, it was a miracle he didn’t hit Billy. 

Billy refused to get into the car at first, told Harrington to fuck off and that he was fine, but Steve was persuasive, and refused to leave Billy out alone in the middle of a storm. It wasn’t long until Steve found out why Billy was out there all alone, bloody and crying, and he’s never let him alone since.

Steve chuckled out, his fingers dancing across Billy’s jaw as he glanced down to his lips for a moment before continuing. 

“I guess I, I didn’t want you to think of him anytime I called you Hargrove. Didn’t want you to think, that I thought you were anything like him.. I didn’t, I don’t want you to have anything to do with him.”

“It’s just a last name, Stevie-“

“It’s his last name. And you deserve better than that. Better than him. You deserve so much baby.”

Billy couldn’t help but smile, his whole body feeling warm at Steve’s words. He raised his hand, cupping Steve’s face with it, who lent into the touch like he usually did.

“You’re too good to me, pretty boy. I love you so much”

Steve couldn’t help but shiver as Billy’s hand made its way under his shirt, his fingers finding their way up to his nipple, causing more heat to pool at his groin, his heart beating faster. He tugged at Billy’s hair, pushing his body closer as Billy’s fingers continued to rub over his now hard nipple, causing Steve to squirm under him. He didn’t realise how much he actually needed Billy, how much being away from him hurt, caused his chest to ache, forever longing for the moments like these.

He knew Billy felt the same, that being away from Steve was just as hard, and Steve would be lying if he didn’t say that this was the best kind of sex, after being apart for so long, the need to get as close to each other as they can. The longest they had been apart since they got together was a week, and the moment they reunited was like heaven, so Steve could only imagine what this would feel like. The thought itself was getting him excited, was making his dick already hard, wanting, waiting for Billy to take him apart. 

Billy pulled away from his neck, moving to Steve’s lips, licking into his mouth almost instantly as Steve moaned out again. He pushed his hips towards Billy, a moan escaping both of them at the friction. Billy’s fingers squeezed at his nipple again, causing Steve to squirm again, Billy’s fingers lingering for a moment before trailing down to Steve’s waist, his fingers brushing over the tattoo Steve forgot to tell him about. Honestly Steve forgot it was even there, too preoccupied with thoughts of Billy’s dick inside him the whole ride home, too distracted the moment he had Billy on top of him.

Billy pulled away from Steve at the change in texture on Steve’s side, the tattoo still slightly raised, and pushed himself up slightly, pulling at the bottom of Steve’s shirt to reveal the black ink, in the shape of a surfboard, ocean waves and sunshine inside the dark lines, sitting just above Steve’s left hip.

“Is.. is that a tattoo?” Billy breathed out, both boys still breathing heavily as he ran his fingers over the ink again, causing a blush to creep its way onto Steve’s cheeks, watching as Billy leaned closer, continuing to trace the lines with his fingers, causing goosebumps to rise on Steve’s skin.

He nodded, biting down on his lip as Billy glanced towards him, grinning as he looked back down towards the tattoo. It shouldn’t have made Steve that excited, but seeing Billy just in awe over his tattoo, a grin on his face as he checked his boyfriend’s ink out, did wonders to Steve. He loved the feeling of Billy checking him out in general, always made him blush and his stomach fill with butterflies, but being this close and this intimate, watching as Billy look towards Steve, so in love with everything about him, made Steve want nothing more than to be this close to him forever.

And Billy truly did love Steve, loved every inch of him. Knew every inch of him, inside and out, in more ways than just physical. Sometimes he still doesn’t believe that he managed to get Steve, that his pretty boy was his. That Billy was the one to make Steve feel this way, to take him apart and put him back together. Billy didn’t think he deserved Steve, but wasn’t going to let that stop him from loving him, from letting Steve love him back. He thought he was the luckiest guy in the world. 

“A surfboard?” Billy asked, running his tongue over his bottom lip, causing Steve’s body to twitch slightly, his side heating up more with every touch. He couldn’t help but smile, watching Billy mesmerised by the tattoo. That same feeling overcoming him, warming his whole body the more he watched his boyfriend. 

“Yeah. Being up there reminded me of you, being by the ocean. You know you smell like California” he began to explain, tangling his fingers through Billy’s hair again as he hummed out, nodding slightly, continuing to look over the details of the sunshine and the birds above the waves.

“I remember you telling me you used to love to surf, that you’d teach me when we go there together” Steve continued, the memories coming back to him, causing his smile to grow. He couldn’t wait until that day, after they graduate, when they move away together. He enjoyed being in California, and being there made him long for their future, wanting nothing more than to be with Billy out by the water on a hot summers day.

He replayed the moment Billy promised to take him to California over and over again in his head, holding onto that hope. The thought of leaving Hawkins with Billy made him smile, warmth spreading throughout his body. There was a time he never thought that would be his dream, moving to California, with Billy Hargrove of all people. But things changed, and if he was religious he would thank god for letting things turn out like they did. He really didn’t know what he would do without Billy in his life. 

“You know how much I missed you?” Steve tugged at Billy’s hair again, his eyes meeting bright blue ones as Billy licked his lips again, already knowing the answer. He moved his body closer, leaning in towards Steve, stopping just an inch from his face.

“Enough to get a tattoo?” he asked, smirking out as Steve nodded, receiving a kiss before Billy pulled Steve’s shirt over his head, dropping it to the floor, moving back down his body, placing his lips over the inked skin, causing Steve’s dick to twitch in his shorts, loving the feeling of Billy’s lips and tongue on his skin. Billy noticed the shiver that ran through Steve, smirking as he continued to kiss over the tattoo, his teeth digging into his skin for a moment, before his tongue ran over the sore spot, causing Steve to twitch again, pushing his hips towards Billy again, dick fully hard, a moan escaping him.

Billy moved his kisses back up Steve’s body, holding himself up again, biting down at Steve’s collar bone as Steve tugged at his hair, guiding him up to meet his lips.

“You like?” Steve asked a Billy pulled away, positioning himself between Steve’s legs, tugging on the waistband of his shorts, his eyes back to the tattoo, shining slightly with Billy’s spit, causing him to smirk as he looked back to Steve.

“Hell yeah. Look real sexy with some ink, pretty boy” he said, his eyes already blown as he pulled off Steve’s shorts, going for his own buttons on his jeans as Steve licked his lips, wanting nothing more than to feel Billy on him, inside him. Couldn’t keep in the moans as Billy kissed down the inside of his thigh, his fingers still tracing the surfboard, sending another shiver through Steve.

There he was. Lying cold, naked, shaking at the bottom of a ditch, more blood than Sirius had ever seen before. Sirius didn’t even realise that he had shifted back until he saw his hands, reaching out to gently pull Remus’ very cold very scarred very bloody body closer, pulling his own jacked off to drape it around his shoulders, trying to heat up his body. It was bad, so much worse than they’ve had before, nasty wounds drawn long across his chest and stomach, another smaller one across his forehead.

And he couldn’t help but think that this was all his fault. If he didn’t loose Remus, if he had been paying attention, if he had realised how big the moon was earlier and how bad it was going to get-

He didn’t remember making his way back to the castle, Remus floating above him from the levitation spell he must have used. Didn’t remember when he found the other Marauders either, didn’t remember waiting and waiting and waiting for Madame Pomfrey to finish healing their friend.

He did however remember the fear that Madame Pomfrey let into her expressions the brief moment before she moved Remus to a hospital bed and started the healing.

Everything happened in a blur, until he snapped out of the daze he was in, his eyes fixated on Remus, lying cold and still in the hospital bed. He hadn’t even realised he was crying until he glanced down, noticing his forearm covered in tears.

“-Pads?”

He looked up for the first time, blinking a couple of times as he looked towards James, who stood, eyebrows furrowed, hand resting on Sirius’ shoulder - when did that get there?

“You alright? You spaced out?”

“Sorry, what did you say?”

“I asked what happened? You kind of haven’t spoken since we found you two”

A sigh escaped Sirius as he looked back towards Remus, watching his chest rise and fall, the only thing keeping him from completely falling apart. He tried to think, of what actually happened, but his mind kept wandering, jumping from moment to moment, nothing making any sense. He groaned out as he closed his eyes, rubbing his hand down his face. James waited patiently, not really understanding what was happening, but he knew Sirius, he knew how he acted when they had a particular bad moon, knew that stress and worry can cause his brain to get a little muddled. The same thing happened when Sirius first moved in with the Potters, and James was more observant than he would admit.

And so he drew his hand back and waited as Sirius sighed again, leaning back in his seat, his eyes still trained on Remus.

“It’s all messy, I don’t know, I just..” the image of Remus’ body lying in the ditch came back into Sirius’ mind, causing a shiver to run through him. Out of all the memories and thoughts and images, that was the only one he really could make out, the one he really didn’t want to remember.

Because it hurt. It hurt more than he thought it would, more than he would ever admit. And he didn’t know why. Of course he cares about Remus, he’s cared and worried and stressed about him the day they met, even more the day he found out what happens on a full moon. Remus was one of his best friends, so it makes sense that he was worried, that he was concerned and upset. But it didn’t explain the strange feeling he was getting in his chest, his stomach, his gut. Didn’t explain why his head hurt and his legs couldn’t stop moving and his mind couldn’t stop racing and he couldn’t stop thinking all the worst things he could possibly be thinking and Merlin what if it’s too late and what if he doesn’t make it and what if he never knows how much he means to me and how much I need him and that I love him and-

Sirius physically flinched at the realisation, the words hitting him as hard as he hit the wall he accidentally flew into one day at practice.

“Pads? What is it?” James asked, moving closer as Sirius’ whole body began to shake. He loved Remus. He was in love with Remus fucking Lupin and oh god it made so much sense, so much that he didn’t know how he couldn’t see it before. He was always wanting to be close to Remus, wanting to hear his voice and make him smile and god he was handsome, and sure, he always wondered what it would feel like to hold him and kiss him, and now he knew why.

He started crying again, couldn’t tell when it started, and when he looked to James, the tears kept coming, because he loved Remus, and Remus was hurt, and he was cold and he was bleeding and scarred and Sirius wanted to hold him and tell him it’s going to be okay and tell him that he loves him and what if he doesn’t wake up? What if it’s too late?

“I think love him, James. And I didn’t realise until I saw him- until he.. what if I never get the chance to tell him?”

James was shocked to say the least. Love was a strange topic to Sirius. Sure, he loved a lot of things, in his own way. He loved his friends, loved the Potters, he loved quidditch and pissing Severus off. But love was hard for Sirius, they had his parents to thank for that. It took time for Sirius to even admit that he deeply cared about the other marauders. It was such a foreign concept to Sirius that often times he doesn’t know how he felt, or wouldn’t believe that someone could love him, that he could love someone.

Love was hard for Sirius. But to be in love with someone? James often worried that it would never happen, not because he’s not capable of it, but because he believed Sirius would ignore it, wouldn’t let him feel those things, would push those feelings far away until he forgot about them.

But instead of asking questions and fussing over Sirius being in love, Sirius being in love with a boy, Sirius being in love with Remus, he shook his head, knowing exactly what Sirius is thinking, exactly what he would be freaking out about.

“No, stop that. He’s going to wake up, and then you can tell him how much you love him, okay?”

James had time to question Sirius later, but now he needed to be there for his friend, his brother. Because he knew love, and he knew loss, and he knew Sirius, and he knew he needed to help, to calm him down.

“He’s hurt real bad James-“ he could hear the hurt, the pain in Sirius’ voice, and wondered how he never noticed before, how he always seemed to get worked up and upset whenever they had a particularly bad moon, more so than the others, even when they know he’s safe and going to be okay.

“He’s always hurt bad, and then he wakes up and then he’s fine. He’s going to be okay. Come on, Sirius he’s stronger than all of us combined.” It wasn’t a lie. The moment they found out about Remus’ lycanthropy, James knew he was stronger than anyone he had met, than all of them.

Sirius still wasn’t convinced. They had never had one this bad, and he still couldn’t shake the image out of his head. James watched for a moment as Sirius looked back towards Remus, still asleep, chest rising and falling, shallow but steady, thanks to the professor. She always knew what to do, how to heal Remus, make sure he got better, and they were beyond thankful for that. She even let them stay by his side until he woke up, not that they were technically allowed. Never questioned them either, though they all know she must wonder how the three of them manage to find and bring Remus back after a full moon. She had her guesses, of course, but never questioned them on it, which they were thankful for.

And she always made him better, they knew that, this was no different, but then Sirius started to shake again, because he was so pale, and he was cold and hurt and his skin was already starting to bruise up around the scars and the scars, Merlin the scars were so big and-

James noticed that Sirius started to spiral again, could see the way his brows furrowed and his eyes turned glossy due to more tears threatening to spill. He knew that his mind ad started to race again, so he placed his hand back on his brothers shoulder, and spoke as softly as he could, as calm as he ever had.

“Hey, you’ll get your chance to tell him. I promise you.”

Sirius took a deep breath, calming down slightly, but his legs still bounced under him. And James watched as he just sat, eyes never leaving Remus’ body. Sirius didn’t speak, instead lent forward in his chair, his elbows resting on the bed, next to where Remus laid. And they stayed like that for a while, James’ hand resting on Sirius’ shoulder, his eyes moving between two of his best friends, both broken and hurt and exhausted in different ways. Sirius leaning on the hospital bed, eyes never pulling away from the rise and fall of Remus’ chest, scared that if he looked away, the breathing would stop.

And James knew what he had to do, what Sirius had to do. He didn’t want to leave, but he knew Sirius needed time to think, needed time to just be with Remus, so he moved closer, giving Sirius’ shoulder a small squeeze as he spoke.

“Hey.. I’m gonna give you guys some room, maybe you can think about what you’re going to say when he wakes up?”

Sirius just nodded, a good sign that he wasn’t completely stuck in his head. James pulled back to leave, but he paused, looking back towards Sirius, unmoved, legs still bouncing and body still shaking.

“Hey, uh.. thanks for telling me. You know you can always trust me with that stuff, right?”

Sirius turned his eyes away from Remus for the first time, his eyes finding James, as he nodded, a small smile making it’s way onto his face. Sirius was truly grateful for James, who always let him be himself, who he trusted with everything. “I know.”

“And after this I’m gonna have a hell of a lot of questions to ask you-“

Sirius couldn’t help the chuckle that left him, shaking his head slightly at his friend. “Yeah, yeah I know. I’ll answer all your questions.”

Sirius knew he would have to tell James everything after this, explain everything, including what he still didn’t quite know or understand yet. And if he wasn’t so shaken up or upset still, he might even had been excited to talk to James about it, to laugh with him as they realise how ridiculous he had been, never realising what his feelings had meant. Might’ve even been excited to gossip like normal teenagers do, about Remus and Lily and the absurd amount of pining they’re bound to endure.

James just smiled, nodding his head, before pausing for a moment. And the smile never faltered when he spoke.

“I’m proud of you, you know.”

Those words meant more to Sirius than any words he’s ever heard before. Any time James, or the Potters, or Remus or Peter would tell him that they’re proud, his body would heat up, warmth running through his chest and to his stomach. He didn’t even realise how different this conversation would have been if it was with anyone else, because admittedly he had just come out to his best friend, something that he knows isn’t very accepted, couldn’t even imagine the reaction his parents would have to the idea of their son being in love with a boy, but he was happy that he felt safe enough to do that here. Because James really was his family, really meant a lot to him. And he couldn’t help the smile that made its way to his face at his brothers words.

“Thanks prongs.”

“Give Moons a kiss for me.”

And then James was gone, and Sirius was back to staring at Remus. A long sign escaped him, one he didn’t realise he had been holding, didn’t realise it needed to get out. He reached out, leaning his elbows back where they were, but he paused, his eye drifting to Remus’ hand, lying by his body. Sirius had always wondered what it would feel like to hold his hand. He thought it was ridiculous, that he sounded so sappy, but he didn’t try to stop himself as he reached out, tangling his fingers with Remus’, who was still cold, sending a shiver up Sirius’ arm.

He pulled Remus’ arm towards him gently, placing a kiss on the back of his hand, before resting both arms back down onto the bed, his thumb rubbing over were his lips had touched.

And he sat, and he thought, about what he was going to say. God what was he going to say? And how was he going to say it? What would Remus say? Would he even be okay with it?

He couldn’t imagine Remus ever hating him over the fact that he loved him. Remus probably wouldn’t care that Sirius liked boys either, but would he love him back? Did he love him back? And then Sirius started to panic, because what if he doesn’t? What even would I say? How am I meant to tell Remus that I’m in love with him, and the thought of him gone makes me want to die? That I want to be with him forever, and that I hate when we’re apart, and Christ what am I going to say?

But then he paused, and the worry flooded back to him. He didn’t care what he was going to say, as long as he got to say it. As long as Remus was okay. And he let his eyes wander back over his body, and he could already feel the tears. And then suddenly, the quiet was too much, too suffocating, so he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, before he spoke, spilling out all his feelings as best as he could.

“I’m so sorry, Moons. Christ, please be okay. Please wake up Moony..” he spoke, hoping that he could make some sense of what he was feeling. He opened his eyes, focusing on their hands together, before taking a deep breath and continuing.

“I’m so sorry I never told you, that I love you.. I didn’t know.. I didn’t realise I loved you.. I always knew I felt differently about you, but I didn’t.. I was scared, Moons, of a lot of things, but.. seeing you like this.. I can’t imagine never being able to tell you how I feel..”

His eyes were closed again, and he really didn’t want to cry more, so he took another deep breath, his chest shaking, his legs shaking, his hands shaking, and he focused on Remus’ hand within his own. The feeling of their fingers being wrapped up together, the heat from his own body warming up Remus’, which calmed him down. Because he wanted Remus to be warm, to be safe and healthy and okay. He wanted Remus to be okay, because he needed Remus. He needed Remus more than he thought he would ever need anyone.

“Merlin, you’re my everything, Remus. I need you, please wake up.”

And Sirius didn’t know when he realised that Remus was awake, staring at him, tears in his eyes. He didn’t even realise he was staring back, shocked, confused, concerned, until Remus squeezed at his hand, bringing him back from whatever frozen state he was in.

“Merlin Remus” he said simply, dropping down as close to Remus as he could without hurting his wounds, wrapping his arms around his shoulders at an uncomfortable angle to hug him. He didn’t care, Remus was awake, he was okay.. and he might have heard the confession Sirius had made.. and he knows, god he knows.

Sirius didn’t want to pull away, one because he loved the feeling of Remus’ arms wrapped around his back, but also because then Remus would see how red his face is, and then he’d have to face the fact that he unknowingly and unintentionally confessed his feelings to his best friend.

And Sirius’ mind was rambling, trying to think of what to say, or what to do, a million thoughts rushing through his head and around his skull. He was going to get a headache later, already felt it coming along, but he couldn’t possibly worry about that with his heart pounding so loudly in his chest against his rib cage, Moony pressed so closely to his body.

And then Remus’ breath on his ear caused him to freeze, suddenly every thought and sound whirling around in his skull gone as he listened.

“I love you too, Pads.”

Sirius didn’t mean to pull away as fast as he did, but as soon as he saw the calm look on Remus’ face, the sparkle in his eye, he instantly relaxed, even let out a small laugh, eyebrows furrowing together, causing Remus’ smile to grow.

“So you heard all of that?”

Remus laughed out, winching slightly, but his smile never faulted. “Bits and pieces. But I got the gist of it.”

Sirius placed his hands on either side of Remus’ face, careful not to touch any of his healing wounds, and he couldn’t help but smile, warmth pooling throughout his body, because he was holding Remus, and Remus was holding him, and he loved Remus, and Remus loved him.

“I was so scared, Moons.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Sirius chuckled at that, shaking his head. Only Remus would apologise for something that he had no control over. The other marauders have had to tell Remus to stop saying he was sorry on multiple occasions, had explained to him they they know it’s not his fault, that they don’t blame him for anything, would never blame him for anything. That they’re scared and worried because they care, that it’s not his fault. Remus tired to believe them, but the words “I’m sorry” just seemed to slip off his tongue so naturally that he could never really help it.

“No, don’t be sorry. You don’t have to be sorry.”

And he meant it. He didn’t want Remus to ever feel like he had to be sorry, like he was doing something wrong. Because he wasn’t. Sirius thought that Remus shouldn’t ever apologise for anything, because really there isn’t anything Remus could do that would make Sirius want an apology.

They didn’t move, didn’t speak for a while, instead all they did was look to each other. Sirius couldn’t really tell what he was feeling, nor did he completely understand Remus’ expression, but he didn’t want to ask, wanted to just stare a little longer. So he let his eyes move over his face, leaving his eyes and moving across his scars and freckles, and down to his lips. Christ Sirius wanted to kiss him. To finally find out what Remus’ lips would feel like against his own. And it seemed like Remus was reading his mind when he spoke.

“Merlin, Sirius just kiss me already-“

And that’s all Sirius needed before he pushed himself closer, his hands holding Remus’ face as he kissed him. Remus’ arms tightened around Sirius’ back, and Sirius could feel him smile as he kissed him, leaning his body closer, wanting to be closer and closer and closer.

He ran his tongue over Remus’ bottom lip, which Remus returned with a moan, letting him in almost instantly as Sirius’ hands moved up to tangle themselves in his hair. A part of Remus thought he was still dreaming, that this wasn’t happening, that Sirius wasn’t here, kissing him, tugging at his hair, but then Sirius would moan, reminding Remus that this was very much real, that this was very much happening. That just made him want to squeal.

But they were both exhausted, so it wasn’t long before they pulled apart, not really wanting to, but knowing that they probably should. That they would have time to do more of that later.

The two of them couldn’t help but laugh, Sirius leaning his forehead on Remus’, a sigh of relief leaving both of them, a sign that both boys had wanted this for a while, despite Sirius only realising it moments before. Remus shook his head slightly, his smile never fading as he spoke.

“You wouldn’t believe how long I’ve waited for that.”

Sirius felt warm, his whole body tingling at the idea of Remus wanting to kiss Sirius, of Remus waiting for the moment. That thought made Sirius’ face blush red, his cheeks beginning to ache from the grin he didn’t notice having, which refused to leave his expression.

Sirius wanted to be closer to Remus, to hold him and kiss him, the thought itself getting him excited, but as he pulled away slightly, Remus froze, his grip around Sirius’ back tightening as he closed his eyes.

“Don’t-, don’t leave, please.”

Sirius couldn’t help but chuckle, leaving being the last thing on his mind. So he lent down again, catching Remus’ lips in another kiss before pulling back slightly, not as far as before. He pushed himself up onto the bed, Remus moving slightly to the side as he helped Sirius under the covers. Sirius laid down, his arms wrapping around Remus, whose body was now warm, pulling his body into his own. Remus sighed out again, his body shaking slightly as Sirius placed a kiss to his forehead, closing his own eyes before speaking.

And then there was Billy. Billy. He often had nightmares about Billy. Not in how you’d expect him to have, though. The nightmares were never about being scared of him, about the harsh words and the harsher fists that Billy had often thrown towards Steve before. No, instead the nightmares were about Billy not being there.

He wouldn’t know what to do with himself if Billy were to ever get caught up in the horrors of the town of Hawkins. He had forgiven him for that night at the Byers house, never held it against him as much as he tried to. And trust that he tried. Tried so hard to be angry with him. But every time he looked towards him, his blue eyes, thick lashes or that stupid smirk on his face, he couldn’t be mad. Not really.

And things were better between them, they really were. Things were good. Billy hadn’t really apologised yet, but he didn’t need to. Steve knew he was sorry, knew he didn’t know how to say it, so he showed it as best he could. And Steve understood. He was good at understanding. Understanding that Billy’s effort to befriend Steve, and his effort to not be as much of an asshole to his sister or any of the kids, and his effort to get into less fights were all really an attempt at showing that he was sorry.

But despite this, it still surprised Steve when he heard the roar of the Camaro, the headlights flashing out onto the water as the car came to a stop next to his own. He didn’t bother to look towards him as the engines turned off, the forest around them darkening, instead he took another drag of his cigarette, listening as Billy opened the car door, continued to listen as the same door closed, the sound of his footsteps taking over, breaking through the quiet of the night.

Billy didn’t speak as he pushed himself up onto the trunk of the BMW, stealing a cigarette from Steve’s pack, lighting it with his own lighter he pulled from the pocket of his jacket, the same one he always wears. They sat in silence for a few minutes like that, none of them bothering to speak, smoke filling the air around them. 

Steve had finished his beer by now, tossing the empty can towards the trees before grabbing another, passing it towards Billy, who took it graciously. They continued to sit in silence, and it wasn’t until they both were on their next beers before Billy decided to say something. 

“Why are you up so late?” 

Steve wanted to laugh, roll his eyes and ask the exact same question, but he really didn’t have the energy to. He knew Billy wasn’t out there to look for him. People knew he didn’t sleep as much as he should, sure, but no one knew that he often left his house in the middle of the night, let alone where he went, meaning that Billy was also up late, on his own terms, deciding for himself that somewhere like the quarry was a better place for him than back home in a warm bed. But Steve really didn’t want to get into that, into wondering what made Billy Hargrove leave the comfort of his house in the middle of the night. Part of him knew he didn’t want to know because he knew he probably wouldn’t like the answer.

So instead he answered like he always did when someone would catch him awake at unreasonable times, whenever someone began to show any sign of concern.

“Couldn’t sleep.” Billy huffed out in response, taking another sip of his beer as he watched Steve. He didn’t bother looking back, already having a feeling that his answer wasn’t going to be enough for Billy. He took another sip of his own beer, continuing to stare out towards the trees. Billy huffed out again, gesturing out towards the trees as he spoke.

“So what are you doing all the way out here?” he asked, dropping his arms by his side, looking back towards Steve, who watched the movement out of the corner of his eye. It wasn’t that he wasn’t paying attention, and it wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to Billy, but he was exhausted, and Billy wouldn’t understand, and then he’d have to deal with more mocking than he already got, and he didn’t want to give Billy, or anyone else another reason to make fun of him, call him a pussy, because you’re a grown fucking man you shouldn’t have fucking nightmares.

So he sighed out again, thinking, something plain, something simple, something that could mean anything, not necessarily good or bad. Something that wont tell Billy the truth, as much as he felt himself wanting to, wanting to open up to someone.

“Just thinking. It’s quiet out here, makes it easier.” It wasn’t a lie, it was quiet out here, but it was quiet at home too. But the quiet of Steve’s too big and too empty house made his skin crawl. He hated the silence he got whenever he was home alone, which was most days at this point. At least out here, amongst the trees and the bugs and the monsters, there was something. Some type of noise to distract him from the growing quiet that was his life back home. Something to focus on to distract him from the growing noise in his head, which only grew louder the more quiet it was.

He really wanted Billy to drop it, but he knew Hargrove, knew that dropping it wasn’t an option. He didn’t even have time to think about why Billy actually cared to ask before he answered again, asking another question Steve didn’t want to answer. 

“What about?”

Steve didn’t mean to snap, didn’t want to be angry with Billy, wasn’t even angry at Billy, but his head hurt, and he was exhausted, and his body ached and the one time someone actually cared to ask Steve what was going on it was Billy fucking Hargrove with his stupid blue eyes and stupid concerned face and god, Steve, fucking snap out of it.

“Why do you care, Billy? And why are you even here?”

Steve was frustrated, but more because he was just plain confused. Why now did Billy care? Steve didn’t think he cared that much about him, didn’t think anyone did, didn’t think he was worth it. But here he was, sitting on the trunk of his car with someone who looked like they gave a shit, looked like they actually cared. And it scared him, though he wouldn’t want to admit it, that the idea of someone actually caring about him scared him more than anything else.

And Billy didn’t even get mad, which angered Steve more for some reason he would have to unpack later. Instead Billy just shrugged, taking another sip of his beer before answering calmly, as if that’s what they did. As if it was normal for them to have an actual conversation alone in the woods in the middle of the night.

“Needed to get out of the house, didn’t really have anywhere else to go.. and I care, because I’m doing this thing, where I try to not be an asshole, and you look like shit” Billy said back, and it took Steve a moment to register what he actually said, still in a daze by how calm he was, how he wasn’t angry like Steve was.

Steve finally glanced towards Billy, furrowed eyebrows at what he said, and by the look on Billy’s face, he knew exactly what was going through Steve’s mind. He raised his hands as if he was surrendering, chuckling slightly as he spoke.

“Hey I said I was trying, doesn’t mean I’m very good at it.”

Steve just sighed out, looking away again. He knew Billy didn’t mean anything by it, and it really wouldn’t surprise Steve if he did look like shit, but he didn’t even bother to think about it as he thought about what Billy said. Needed to get out of the house. Steve knew all about that, but what would drive Billy to need to get away? Before Steve could think about the implications of that sentence, what Billy might have unknowingly shared, Billy continued.

“Just, you look like somethings bothering you.”

Steve closed his eyes for a moment, thinking this over. It felt weird, feeling himself want to open up to Billy. He didn’t even know what Billy and him were. Friends? Maybe.They definitely weren’t the closest people, and they still tend to bump heads a bit, but they had come a long way from being rivals, or enemies, or whatever they were. But then Steve thought about that strange infatuation he found himself having towards the other, knowing that if he opened up, he probably wouldn’t stop, and more feelings would come out, feelings that he still wasn’t even 100% sure of himself. And he didn’t want to risk that.

“It’s nothing, okay? It’s not important.”

Billy paused, thinking, and then the words that left his mouth caused Steve’s blood to boil, the fastest he thinks he has ever gotten angry.

“You should open up to someone about it”

He didn’t know why he was getting so riled up by the thought of Billy telling him to open up, but then he remembered it was Billy, and he was mad and frustrated and exhausted and really wasn’t having a good day. So he scoffed out, finally turning to face Billy.

“What the fuck? No, fuck off Hargrove, you don’t get to say that to me!” Billy seemed stunned by the response, blinked a few times as if trying to register what was actually happening, but before he could say anything, Steve continued, rolling his eyes as he looked away from him.

“Open up, yeah fucking right, when was the last time you ever opened up to someone? I don’t know a fucking thing about you, other than you have a good right hook and you love your car more than you’ve probably loved anything else in your life!”

Steve could see him tense up out of the corner of his eyes, saw his jaw clench, his fists tightening around his beer. It was obvious that Billy was angry, and Steve knew what he said would’ve pissed Billy off, and maybe he was looking for a fight, wanted to release the built up anger and frustration and sadness in some way. But Billy didn’t budge, stayed silent instead, just watching, waiting for Steve to look, or speak, or do something. 

Steve didn’t want to look, he knew what would probably happen if he did. Knew that if he found Billy’s fucking beautiful eyes, he would instantly feel guilty, knowing he didn’t really want to be mean to Billy, that Billy hadn’t done anything wrong, that he was just angry and upset and weak. 

And then the guilt started, before he even had a chance to look at him, and when he finally looked up he felt even worse. Billy still didn’t speak as he looked towards Steve, who tried to figure out what the other was thinking, feeling. He looked, tired, something Steve didn’t notice before, and then he felt worse. Billy didn’t want to fight, he wanted to help. And Steve wasn’t letting him, because he was scared, of opening up to someone, to Billy.

A groan escaped Steve as he finally pulled his attention from Billy, leaning his head back and closing his eyes, releasing a breath he didn’t even realise he was holding. He paused for another moment, and when Billy remained quiet, he looked back out towards the trees.

“Nightmares, Bill. I get.. I get bad nightmares, and they keep me up all night, and I hate being in that house alone, so..”

And he knew. He knew that it wouldn’t stop there, that it was too late to turn back now. But, a part of him felt relief. But that was buried way down when Billy spoke again, when Steve realised he would have to explain. And that relief was suddenly filled with dread, and then he was scared again.

“.. what about?” Billy asked, and if Steve was really paying attention and not concentrating on how fast his heart was beating, he would have noticed the soft tone to Billy’s voice, or the way he moved slightly closer to Steve, or that he still hasn’t looked away.

“Nothing.. everything, I don’t know.” He knew he couldn’t tell Billy about the monsters, what most of his nightmares were about, what not only plagued his dreams but plagued his thoughts, his life. And he definitely couldn’t tell him about his nightmares involving Billy. Just the idea that he has dreams of Billy would probably get him multiple broken bones and bruises. 

“What about tonight then?”

And then he sighed again, glancing towards Billy, concern still written on his face, and when he moved closer, Steve closed his eyes, finally answering what was bothering him tonight, what forced him out of his house and into the darkness of Hawkins.

“My parents.” It was a simple enough answer, one that left Billy questioning what he meant, panicking slightly at what it could mean. Steve looked away again, didn’t notice how Billy instinctively looked him over, looking for any sign of bruising or past injuries, because Billy knew. He knew about having nightmares about your parents, about the things they do that keep you up at night. 

“You have nightmares about your parents?” Billy asked, this time Steve noticing the slight panic, but he brushed it off, because why would he panic? They’re just nightmares, right? I mean, yeah, Steve didn’t have the best relationship with them, and sure, whenever they would actually come home, Steve found himself feeling like even more shit than he already does, but Billy didn’t know that.

And before he knew what was happening, he started to feel defensive, to feel those fears coming back, because it’s stupid, isn't it? Having nightmares about your parents? And Billy was probably ready to laugh, ready to tease him about something so stupid. So he crossed his arms over his chest, glaring towards him, not wanting to be weak, to be vulnerable. 

“What? You’re gonna make fun of me for it?”

Steve had never seen Billy change expressions so quickly, his concern turned to actual panic, something Steve didn’t think he’d ever seen before. Couldn’t think of a time he saw Billy panic in general, didn’t expect Billy to care that much either. But he did, and Steve had no idea why, but he would be lying if he said that it didn’t make him feel a little better.

“No, I.. No” Billy stumbled over his words, sighing out as he paused. He wasn’t good at this, at the whole talking thing. At the whole friend thing, either. But he was trying, and he really didn’t want Steve to think he was just riling him up, looking for a reason to pick on him. Because he wasn’t. He knew about nightmares, about nightmares about your parents, and then he was worried again, and then he was determined.

“Why do you have nightmares about them?”

“.. it’s stupid, really-”

“Steve, why do you have nightmares about your parents?” he asked again, more stern than before, angry, almost, and more concerned than Steve had initially realised. More concerned than Steve had ever seen him. He finally looked to Billy, pausing as he realised Billy was actually worried still, possibly more than before, and Steve wondered what was going through Billy’s head, what he was assuming Steve had meant. And so he spoke, slowly, the words circling around in his head again, the nightmare coming back to him, his life coming back.

“They just.. say things, sometimes”

“What things Steve?”

He didn’t know why he felt the urge to tell Billy everything his parents ever had said to him. He felt like he would tell Billy all of his secrets if he asked, and he hated that. But then he remembered how worried Billy looked, how it actually seemed like he cared, how close they were, and, well, he couldn’t really stop.

“That I’m, useless, worthless, I’m not good at anything, I don’t deserve anything, that I’m an idiot, a fucking retard who can’t even fucking read without spacing out, that I’m a fucking burden who they wish they never had, that I’d never be loved.. just, fucking everything that could be wrong with someone, anything that would make me feel like complete and utter shit because to them that’s all I fucking am.”

He didn’t realise he had started crying until the lump in his throat grew bigger, causing him to almost choke on the tears, struggling to hold back a sob. He had never said out loud what his parents do, what they say, and for some reason it hurt a hell of a lot more than Steve thought it would. And he felt stupid. He felt so fucking stupid, admitting everything to Billy fucking Hargrove, who sat staring at him, frozen, watching as he broke apart on the trunk of his BMW in the middle of god fucking nowhere.

“Steve-”

Steve shook his head, wiping harshly at his cheeks. He refused to look at Billy any longer, training his eyes on the trees around him. This was stupid, Billy didn’t care, why would he? No one cared, so why would this be any different?

“Look, just, forget it, okay? It’s stupid, this is stupid-” he pushed off away from his car, wanting to get away, not wanting to be here, feel what he was feeling, but Billy didn’t let him get that far, pushing himself from the BMW, reaching out towards the other.

His fingers wrapped around Steve’s wrist, and he flinched, closing his eyes, preparing to be hit for being stupid, for being weak, preparing to be told to grow the fuck up and get over it, but it never came. Instead, he felt himself being pulled towards Billy, before two arms wrapped around his back, and when he opened his eyes, all he could see was Billy’s blond curls.

“What are you doing?”

Billy just huffed out, but it didn’t sound like he was annoyed, or angry, or upset. He was just, tired. And Steve didn’t think he had ever related to Billy as much as he did now. Tired. And then he answered, pulling Steve even closer.

“Hugging you”

“Why?”

“Just, relax, Steve. It’s okay.” And then Steve felt himself finally let go, no longer trying to maintain his tears, keep in his sobs. Because he was tired. He was really fucking tired, of keeping in all the shit that happens, pretending that everything was fine when they weren't, and someone finally actually fucking cared. So he let himself sob into Billy’s shoulder, let his once enemy hug him and hold him in the middle of fucking nowhere, hold him until the tears ran out.

1. “I have something to tell you”

2. “Do you ever think about the future?”

3. “What’s in it for me?”

4. “Who did this? Who hurt you?”

5. “Please don’t cry”

6. “Let me help you”

7. “Why are you up so late?”

8. “Why are you lying to me?”

9. “Don’t you ever do that again!”

10. “If you’re going to break up with me, at least do it to my face”

11. “I’m worried about you” “don’t be.”

12. “I don’t deserve you”

13. “You don’t deserve me”

14. “Run away with me”

15. “I don’t believe in soulmates, but I’ll make an exception for you”

16. “Can we stay like this forever?” “You know we can’t.”

17. “Are you.. jealous?”

18. “Come over, I need you.”

19. “I think I’m in love with you”

20. “I missed you”

21. “Don’t leave”

22. “If you don’t stop I’m going to have to make you”

23. “Sharing is caring” “but I don’t care”

24. “I’ve never told anyone that before”

25. “You don’t get to say that to me!”

26. “How is this my fault?”

27. “Just leave me alone!”

28. “You aren’t going anywhere”

29. “Do that again and you’ll regret it”

30. “I don’t care”

31. “Don’t even think about coming back here”

32. “You need to calm the fuck down!”

33. “What did you just say to me?”

34. “I didn’t ask you to do that!”

35. “Get away from me!”

36. “You’re such a dork”

37. “How did I get so lucky?”

38. “I’m not needy, I’m just lonely”

39. “You’re my everything”

40. “If you don’t come here right now I’m going to have to make you”

41. “Don’t turn the light off!”

42. “I wish we could wake up together too”

43. “Open your eyes” “I can’t, I don’t want to”

44. “Didn’t you see that?”

45. “What’s that noise?”

46. “Please don’t leave me”

47. “Where am I?”

48. “No, please stop”

49. “Don’t look.”

50. “Come here, it’s okay. I’ve got you now.”

51. “It wasn’t your fault!”

52. “This isn’t what it looks like”

53. “This is.. exactly what it looks like”

54. “You don’t believe in the afterlife?”

55. “I’m a bad person”

56. “There’s so much blood”

57. “Is that a tattoo?”

58. “I’m yours, in every way you’ll have me”

59. “You might not like me, but you definitely want me.”

60. “I love you. I just love (name) more”

61. “Walk me home?”

62. “Your parents home?” “Never.”

63. “Please don’t let go”

64. “I just wanted to make sure you were safe”

65. “Stop telling me how I’m meant to be feeling!”

66. “I’ve been manipulated my whole life, so what would make you any different?”

67. “I might have slight trust issues”

68. “There’s nothing wrong with how you feel. Don’t let anyone tell you that what you’re feeling is wrong.”

69. “My heart tells me to kiss you, but my head tells me to walk away.” “Listen to your heart”

70. “I don’t know how to handle a broken heart”

71. “I don’t hold people close. It makes it easier for them to hurt you”

72. “It hurts when you touch me there” “what about here?”

73. “What do you need?” “Please just hold me”

74. “Pizza and beer? How can I say no to that”

75. “I just want to hold your hand”

76. “Why won’t you touch me?”

77. “I don’t want you to die”

78. “This isn’t how your life ends.”

79. “I need you to stay with me”

80. “You look so tired”

81. “Do you ever think about what it would be like to just crash your car into a tree and end it all?”

82. “Which part of me wasn’t enough?”

83. “How do you sleep at night? Knowing what’s out there?”

84. “What happened to your hand(s)?”

85. “Did he hurt you?”

86. “I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again”

87. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep”

88. “I don’t want to talk about it”

89. “I’ll always be here if you need me”

90. “I love you. You know that, right?”

91. “We should probably get up now”

92. “I’m trying to cheer you up”

93. “Get off, you’re heavy”

94. “Of course I trust you”

95. “Like what you see?”

96. “Don’t think I won’t fight you”

97. “If they mess with you, they’re messing with me”

98. “You think you can handle it?”

99. “I don’t want to hurt you”

100. “I need to know if you’re okay or not”

101. “Don’t test me”

102. “You need to rest!”

103. “You don’t need to worry about me”

104. “You’re not giving me much of a choice”

105. “Sometimes you have to think of yourself as a priority”

106. “You need to be more careful!”

107. “Promise me you’ll look after yourself”

108. “You’re not making any sense”

109. “You’re still cold, so I brought some more blankets and another one of your favourite hoodies”

110. “You’re not making this any easier”

111. “Why don’t you tell me why you really came here tonight?”

112. “Hey, I’m here, it’s okay, I’ll take care of you”

113. “You just can’t sleep without me, can you?”

114. “I didn’t want to wake you up. You looked so peaceful”

115. “I like spending time with you”

116. “I wanna hear you say it”

117. “Is that my shirt?”

118. “I like seeing you in my clothes”

119. “I told you that I didn’t want to talk about it! Why can’t you just let it go?”

120. “I know you told me not to come, but I had to”

121. “I shouldn’t be here, but...”

122. “How did you find me?”

123. “Come inside, or you’re going to catch a cold”

124. “Why do you care about me?”

125. “It’s okay, we can talk about it in the morning.”

126. “You’re not gonna hurt me”

127. “What if I never get better?”

128. “What did I do wrong?”

129. “Please answer me!”

130. “I swear to god if you jump-”

131. “This is all my fault”

132. “Did I ever matter to you?”

133. “I can’t do this alone”

134. “Yell at me, or shove me, or hit me or something! Just please stop ignoring me!”

135. “Please don’t look at me”

136. “Why do you look at me like that?”

137. “Please just breathe”

138. “Where did you go?”

139. “Why are you doing this to yourself?”

140. “It’s okay, they’re gone now”

141. “Bad dream?”

142. “Why can’t I see?”

143. “I can’t feel my legs”

144. “Run away with me”

145. “You’re the better part of me”

146. “I’m so alone it hurts”

147. “Don’t stop”

148. “I’ve missed this”

149. “Tell me again”

150. “You could have died!”