#Billy hargrove's kid

[broke-art-girl]

"Lily." By Broke_Art_Girl

Fandom: Stranger Things

Summary:

Steve Harrington comes back to Hawkins with a purpose.

Or

Steve Harrington has a child with Eddie Munson that he doesn't know about, when the child is 4 months old Steve Harrington comes back to ask if Eddie wants to be her father.

Words: 9k+

Characters: Billy Hargrove, Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Original character child of Steve Harrington and Billy Hargrove. Original character child of Eddie Munson and Steve Harrington. The Party (stranger things) Corroded Coffin (stranger things) Max Mayfield, Robin Buckley, Nancy Wheeler, Jonathan Byers, Will Byers.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54582946/chapters/138304279

[harringroveera]

They never put Billy on speaker ever again

[ickypuppi3]

once again thinking about billy being good with the younger kids—

nancy calling steve up because her mom and dad made last minute dinner reservations and nancy and jonathan have tickets for this movie and this is the last night it’s showing and please steve, holly loves you! and she can hear steve pull the phone away a bit and it sounds like he’s talking to someone and then he says—

“it’s just— billy’s here.”

and nancy’s stumped for a second. because—

“billy hargrove?”

and before either of them can say anything holly’s all billy billy billy! i wanna see billy he’s the best! he does swimming and- and- and now i can do swimming!

and nancy is, once again, stumped because. really? billy? and she can hear murmuring over the phone for a minute more before steve says that they’ll be round in ten and the line goes dead and nancy’s standing there thinking, like- what? but also knowing that her mom would be happy for billy to look after holly because… well. anyway.

she turns to jonathan and he’s like so? and nancy nods and he grins and then she’s like yeah. billy’s coming too i guess and jonathan’s like yeah i guess that makes sense, he’s good with the kids, mom’s always saying and nancy’s like oh neat everyone’s joined the billy hargrove fan club suddenly but she concedes because they get to go to the movie etc.

ten minutes later the doorbell rings and it’s a weird sort of sight, steve and billy standing on her doorstep with an unnatural distance between them, like they’d moved apart the second before the door opened.

they say their hello’s and nancy invites the two of them in, tells them about dinner and bedtimes and then billy says something and suddenly there’s a blur of pink as holly runs full pelt around the corner and all but jumps at him, she’s talking non stop and tugging at billy to go upstairs and see her room because she needs to introduce him to her bears and show him her dolls and dolls house and—

nancy is, well you know it. and steve is looking sort of weirdly proud, a smile on his face as he looks at billy that feels private, like it’s something nancy isn’t supposed to see and she coughs. gets steve out of his little daze and her, steve and jonathan chat for a bit while billy gets the full tour until jonathan says about the time. nancy hovers by the door as they’re leaving and steve just smiles and says—

“we’re gonna be fine, nance. promise.”

cut to the movie finishing, it’s late and nancy makes sure to be quiet as she unlocks the door. she checks the living room but there’s no one in there. she goes upstairs and can see the light under holly’s door so she goes in quietly and is utterly thrown by what she sees. feels like she’s stepped into some sort of alternate universe, which isn’t really out of the realm of possibility, because—

holly’s in bed, fast asleep with billy sat up against some pillows to her left. there’s an open book in his lap and a steve harrington sound asleep to his left. steve’s face is hidden, sort of turned into billy as he lays on his side. the hand not tucked under him is entangled with billy’s and billy’s looking down at him when nancy clears her throat quietly.

she can see the brief panic when billy looks up, can see the way billy goes to move his hand but steve just frowns in his sleep and clutches tighter. billy’s face goes a little pink but she can also see him rubbing his thumb across steve’s knuckles, absentmindedly, naturally, like he does it all the time and—

oh.

nancy starts to put a few pieces of the puzzle together. a little late, maybe, but still ..

anyway. billy wakes steve up and they make their way downstairs, nancy’s slightly in awe at the way billy closes holly’s door silently and walks softly so as to not wake her up, considering it’s billy, and when steve and billy are leaving nancy stops billy for a moment with a hand on his arm, notices he looks panicked again so she just says a quick—

“thank you.”

and billy shrugs, says “‘s fine. she’s a good kid.”

and nancy’s like “yeah .. she really likes you. you’re, uh, you’re good with her, billy.”

and billy shifts around looking incredibly awkward, pink flush back on his face so nancy blurts it out—

“would you— you know if i—”

“you want me to babysit again?”

“mom will pay. obviously. i just— holly likes you. i think i might actually like you now.”

and billy laughs, suddenly. grins. it’s familiar, nancy’s seen this billy a thousand times. he says something about nancy paying for his company and risky business and nancy crosses her arms and rolls her eyes and huffs but it’s sort of fond, now.

now she feels like she understands him a little better.

now she’s seen the way steve and him look at one another when they know the other one isn’t watching.

“you need me, steve’s got my number.” billy says.

nancy nods and billy gives her a little salute, pops a cigarette in his mouth as he walks toward steve’s car.

nancy waves as the engine starts and she goes back inside, goes to her room and thinks about everything that happened in the past however many hours. the next morning holly is, of course, talking about billy non stop over breakfast and nancy has to agree, has to admit that he is one hell of a babysitter, which—

weird, considering. unexpected but, well— sweet. how holly talks about him, anyway.

[manwrre]

headcanon billy is a goner for casual acts of intimacy. i know this because he mentioned it to me earlier, duhhhh.

but i mean, steve’s his first boyfriend, right? his first real, holding hands and not just sneaking around in questionable places to makeout kinda boyfriend. they freaking live together for christ’s sake and yet, every time he notices the silent ‘i love you’s that steve seems to leave him, he’s left a little shy and a little stripped bare. a little stupefied and blushing and head over heels.

like, steve’s always touching him?? in whatever way. if they’re out in public, he’s bumping his shoulder against billy’s and walking close enough that their arms brush. and when they’re with the party, he’s guiding billy into the space with a hand hidden at the small of his back or one beneath the diner’s table, on his thigh. his mouth is always just a touch too close to billy’s face when he leans forward and his lips, practically touching billy’s ear whenever he’s being snide or particularly funny in secret.

he packs billy’s lunch and pays for his gas and makes sure he gives him the heated towels that he likes so much. he washes his hair and buys his favorite cologne and shampoo and stuff just because ‘i noticed you were almost out’. and steve celebrates every single milestone in their relationship— monthsaries, anniversaries, first kisses, first time they held hands, first time they said i-love-you-saries and billy reciprocates it all; is floor by it all. he’s never known that he could be loved so deeply and so wholly.

[a-nameless-dreamer]

you know what, dustin? fuck you.

[ihni]

Inspiration from this post by @stranger-rants ... Sorry but I couldn't NOT draw that, come on, he deserves all the love that little kids can give him!

[cloverdelle]

"What about... brown eyes?"

Inspired by a scene in chapter 40 of @harringroveheart's fic maybe there is a beast <3

I am very much not an artist, I've never drawn fanart, let alone people before, so pls excuse any parts that look weird ;_; I just have not been able to stop thinking about this fic or this scene since I first read it so I had to try and draw it!

[grandwretch]

been thinking a lot about those hcs about steve bullying eddie and i'm pretty sure the math just does not check out on any level

like okay so first of all, steve absolutely would not be bullying someone older than him in his freshman and sophomore years, especially because in the way puberty hits teen boys, there is no way eddie wasn't probably taller and bigger than him in those years.

and like, yeah, he was more of an asshole in his junior year, but he was only a junior for four months before the demogorgon. so that means that everything you want steve to be responsible for vis a vis eddie's trauma has to be within that four months.

it's especially egregious when the only person we actually see steve bully is jonathan, who is a sophomore at the time. a sophomore who kicked steve's ass, btw. which probably means steve wasn't physically bullying seniors and escaping unscathed.

also it seems to be an equally popular trope that steve bullied gareth and gareth hates steve the most out of all eddie's friends, which is like... okay, gareth is, i think, a junior at the time of s4? which means he would have been a freshman in steve's junior year. which, yeah, sets him in steve's prime bullying demographic, but can i just remind everyone that steve wasn't even with that crowd for his entire first semester of junior year?

it seems incredibly unlikely that gareth got bullied by steve personally in fall '83 and then held on to that grudge for the rest of high school, especially after seeing firsthand steve's fall from popularity and then spending almost a whole year in school without him.

[fizzigigsimmer]

That spring, Steve’s mom finally gets tired of getting cheated on and files for divorce. His dad is a dick about it and hires a bunch of lawyers to ensure that she basically leaves with nothing. Worse, he fights her for custody of Steve and taunts her with the fact she’ll never see him again - because why would any teenager want to give up everything, just to rough it out with their train-wreck of a mother? But jokes on him cause the judge basically leaves it up to Steve, and Steve would rather stomp on his own balls than get stuck with that asshole. Even if it means having to leave the big house and his car and starting over in a new place where nobody knows him.

Steve never met his mother’s side of the family in California. All he really knows is that the family disapproved of her marriage. There’s a story about his aunt coming to visit once on his birthday when he was like five, but she got in a fight with mom and she’s never been back. So Steve doesn’t even think about them when he tries to imagine what he and his mom are going to do on their own. He imagines her selling her car and the other gifts dad put in her name over the years to rent a decent apartment somewhere, maybe in Indianapolis or Chicago.

He’s really shocked one night when she announces that she’s been in touch with her family, and she she asks him about how he feels about moving to California to some sleepy little town called Moonwood. She tries to enthuse him about it by going on about how beautiful it is there, right at the edge of the national forest, but Steve’s more concerned with the fact that they’ll be living with people who hate them - and in the sticks too! Its two hours to the nearest mall! How’s he gonna find a job in this place? And what about school?

But Steve looks around at the hotel they’ve been staying in and the paper thin smile she fixes on her face to try and hide her broken heart from him and how fucked everything is, and he just wants her to be okay.

They move to California, and the one bright side is the relatives turn out to be not all that hateful. There’s awkward tension and a shit load of history there for sure, but from the minute they pull up to his grandparents house the door is thrown open and they’re welcomed with open arms. His grandpa seems a little stiff at first, but Steve gets the impression its because he doesn’t know what to do with himself as Steve’s mom and his grandma hug each other and cry. The weirdest part is when they start speaking in a language Steve’s never heard his mother use before.

Later his aunt tells him it’s lythan, but she just laughs when Steve asks if that means they’re from Lithuania. Apparently lythan is a very old language that started in romania and is only spoken today in two places. Here, and some village in romania that an ancestor immigrated from.

None of this is making sense to him but he’s just happy his mother seems happier and that he has help taking care of her, since she’s still pretty broken up about the divorce. She’s always been a passionate woman his mom. The kind of person who believes in soulmates and love at first sight. She’s always told him that when he meets the one for him he’ll know it in an instant and that he should hang on to that person with his whole heart. Which sounded great and all when he was a kid, but honestly just makes him sad now when he looks at how things turned out with her and his dad.

The first week after they get there, Steve cant sleep and catches his mother, his grandmother and his aunt talking in the kitchen late one night. He overhears her say that she knew it was a risk being with his dad, but that she’d have regretted it more if she didn’t follow her heart. Even if she wasn’t the one for Steve’s dad the way he was for her, she’d always be grateful because she has Steve. But she doesn’t want him to grow up feeling like he has to change who he is and like he always has to be the one giving to someone else just to be loved.

For the first time since the divorce Steve is almost mad at her - wants to shout it’s too late mom! - but the feeling passes as quickly as it comes. He’s just sad, for them both. But he hopes things will be okay here and that this can be a new start. It could be worse right? At least he gets a room to himself. Yeah it’s kinda weird that his aunt still lives at home and nobody seems to have a problem with that, or is talking about what his moms plans are like they expect that she’ll just be there forever now. But he figures they’re all just focused on making up for lost time right now.

And his grandma says that people in Moonwood stay close to home anway, and that most of them spend their whole lives there without leaving. It shocks him to learn that she’s never been further outside of town than to the edge of the national forest.

His second worry, about finding a job, gets resolved by his his grandfather - who runs a soda shop on the beach. There’s not much traffic durring the off season, but in summertime the redwoods draw a fair number of tourists. Steve’s kept very busy scooping up ice cream and making root beer floats while he flirts with the gap year girls who come through in groups, to backpack through the forest. He’s just turned eighteen and he’s never had much of a problem picking up girls so he has a few flings. He gets invited to parties on the beach and ends up doing a lot of hiking that summer in his downtime. But then fall rolls around and with fewer and fewer groups of tourists passing through Steve finds himself at loose ends.

School starts up again and he realizes that maybe it was a mistake not to put more of an effort into meeting local kids and making a few connections beforehand. Schiller High is over in the next district, and Moonwood is so far out the kids have to be bussed in. Steve’s a little nervous about starting a new school in his senior year but he tells himself it’s just one year. One year and then he has no idea what to do with himself after that, but at least he won’t be forced to attend school anymore. Still, he begs his mom to let him take their car to school the first day so that he doesn’t have to be the oldest kid on the bus. He’s pretty sure that’s a social constant even out here in the middle of nowhere.

Schiller seems pretty normal at first. It’s about the same size as his school back in Hawkins was. The school receptionist calls in some guy named Tim to show him around his first day and make sure he gets to all his classes. Tim’s alright, but Steve can see the neon nerd sign blinking above his head and plays it cool. He’s not an asshole or anything, he just doesn’t want to close any doors before getting the lay of the land. Steve just wants an easy year and he’s not gonna get that if he’s hanging out with a bully magnet - sorry Tim. Plus, Steve’s not exactly thrilled about the way Tim talks about ‘moonies’ - which is apparently what other people call people from Moonwood, instead of hicks or whatever. Steve doesn’t bother telling Tim that he’s technically a moonie now too.

His aspirations to plant himself firmly in the middle of the student social hierarchy and go unnoticed for the next ten months involve finding a group - or a pack as his grandfather weirdly put it when he assured Steve he’d find his in no time and start to feel more at home once school started. He asks Tim about the school’s athletic teams because being on a team with a bunch of other guys will basically do the work for him. There’s a swim team that Steve is definitely going to try out for. He’s not sure about basketball. He only got started back in Hawkins because his dad thought it was manlier than ‘playing’ in the pool. But he likes it okay, and Tim says the Schiller team has actually won a few regional titles.

Even though it’s his last year Steve figures it can’t hurt his college applications to be on a winning team for once. He probably won’t to start or anything but he thinks he has a good shot of seeing some playing time.

“I would stick with swimming if I were you. There’s no way you’re getting on the team.” Tim laughs. “The head coach is a moonie and he only ever picks guys from Moonwood.”

That doesn’t seem very legal, but that’s not Steve’s problem. He figures Tim is probably exaggerating anyway, just salty that the coach is giving a little extra focus to the guys from the less privileged side of the tracks.

Until Steve actually sees Billy and some of the other guys from the team.

It’s just before lunch when Steve and Tim have stopped by Steve’s locker. A blond kid in a red and white letterman jacket appears at the mouth of the hall, flanked by two other guys. It’s like something out of a movie the way the hallway clears for them and the other students gaze at them with awe filled expressions as if they’re watching a parade of olympians pass through.

“That’s Billy Hargrove. He’s captain of the basketball team.” Tim answers the unspoken question in Steve’s glance. “Don’t get on his bad side. He’s pretty much the top dog around here.”

Steve doesn’t need Tim to tell him Billy runs things around here. The guy is built like the terminator. Like someone who has ascended above mere mortals and wouldn’t be out of place among the gods. He’s built like a man, Steve finally settles on with an prickle of embarrassment hot in his chest. Steve’s a guy and he doesn’t go out of his way to look at other guys a lot, but he appreciates the things about them that are enviable.

Only envy is the furthest thing from Steve’s mind when he first sees Billy. It’s like time slows for Steve. His mouth gets dry, and he thinks to himself that Billy Hargrove is beautiful, and he wonders what that’s like. Steve knows he’s good looking. This isn’t some self depreciation bullshit, it’s just inexplicably different somehow the way he looks at Billy and thinks he finally understands what real beauty is. The way he instantly wants to get closer to him, reach out and touch. Billy has none of the unfinished awkwardness of a teenager. He’s a poster child for physical perfection that Steve is convinced walked off of a poster taped up on somebody’s wall, and has no business walking down the halls of an American high school. Seriously. How is this guy real?

He spares a quick glance for the other two guys with Billy - Dave & Chet - just long enough to confirm that he’s fucked. If these are the kinds of guys they’ve got on the team, Steve has no chance of seeing anything but a bench all year.

Billy and the other two stop at a locker not far from Steve’s on the other side of the hall, but not before Billy’s gaze does a casual sweep around the hall - very much a king surveying his kingdom. Steve fully expects that gaze to pass right over him just as unimpressed as it does everyone else, but to his surprise Billy’s gaze locks with his and sticks.

A little tingle dances up Steve’s spine and he sucks in a breath. He can’t tell what color Billy’s eyes are from this distance - at first he thinks they are something light, like a blue or grey, but then the corner of Billy’s mouth tilts up in a smirk and the light hits them a certain way and they look almost gold as he runs his tongue over some very white fangy teeth. Jesus the guy has some chompers on him.

Steve’s not afraid of a fight but it’s profoundly unsettling to have some dude literally licking his chops at him like he can’t wait to take a bite of the fresh meat. He’s pretty sure he just landed himself on Billy Hargrove’s shit list and he has no idea why. Fuck his life.

But he figures there’s nothing he can do about it but ignore it and hope that Billy decides he’s not worth the trouble. Steve turns to shut his locker, sending the message with his back that he doesn’t care about the dude giving him the crazy eyes and that Billy doesn’t intimidate him. His sweaty palms tell a different story, but that’s for Steve and only Steve to know.

As he leaves, he can feel Billy’s eyes burning into his back like lasers.

So much for going unnoticed for the year.

Now with Part 2

[weird-an]

Hopper is not good with words. He has trouble finding the right ones and he is not a patient man.

And Billy is really getting on his nerves.

Billy never turns his back on Hopper. He is always close to the door, ready to bolt. Hopper is annoyed by it.

It‘s not his fault, Hopper knows that. He can see Neil Hargrove‘s shadow looming over every word Billy says, every glance Billy takes over his shoulder when Hopper is in the room and a bit out of sight. It hurts, if Hopper is being honest.

So he tries his best. He doesn‘t raise his voice, he lets Billy be a stubborn teenager sometimes and he encourages him to not do the bloody dishes the second dinner is finished. (Even though his house has never been that clean before)

And he lets Steve Harrington come over. Nearly every single fucking night and suddenly he is also there in the mornings. Hopper wonders if he is ever leaving or if he just has three kids now.

But Billy is laughing more and doesn‘t flinch whenever Hopper comes into the room.

So Hopper‘s rage subsides.

One morning, Hopper walks in on them making chocolate pancakes in the kitchen.

”Hey Jim!“ Billy shouts and then turns his back on him to kiss a bit of chocolate from Steve‘s lips.

Hopper can‘t hide his grin. He is fucking proud of that kid

- and bit of himself, for staying patient.

[yourworstgf]

I see a pattern emerging with people named Billy

[harringroveera]

Billy’d be a terrific dad actually

(Incorrect Harringrove + Gallavich Quotes)

[ickypuppi3]

# hint: don’t lie to a guy about the whereabouts of his kid stepsister

[robthegoodfellow]

I'm Glad My Dad Died

mungrove | slightly expanded version of fic written for @strangerthingscharityzine | ao3

.🌱.💀.🌱.

Billy had a secret: he was glad his dad was dead. So glad that even when his mom sold their house in Ocean Beach and moved them to Hawkins, Indiana, uprooting him from his friends and the sea and everything Billy loved, he still wouldn’t go back to the way things were. Given the options—California, dad alive; or Indiana, dad dead—he’d pick the second every time.

He would, even though Hawkins was its own hell. Learned the hard way that among prepubescent country bumpkins, embroidered roses on your shirt and hair like Shirley Temple bought you a one-way ticket to Loserville.

It was the fall of 1979. Disco was dying and former flower children were gearing up to vote for Reagan. Kumbaya over, time to make America great again.

So, yeah—sixth grade sucked, but stuff at home was world’s better. They were living with Aunt Doris—because San Diego was too expensive, his mom said, and wouldn’t it be nice to get a fresh start?

Mom was really into the whole fresh start thing—which Billy suspected was fueled by guilt and determination to be the kind of mother she hadn’t been before. And… he appreciated that. He did.

But—he wished she would stop? Put down the pen, step away from the extracurricular sign-up sheets.

Because if the outfit put a target on his back, swim team aimed the bow, and band fired the arrow. 

You’ll miss the water, honey. And you love music! 

She wasn’t wrong. He did love those things—but not enough to willingly wear a Speedo in public or blunder through some Beethoven on the flute. Also in public.

Oh—why the flute? Because she’d fed him a steady diet of hippie tunes from the cradle and knew how much he dug Jethro Tull. Perfectly reasonable explanation—his peers would definitely understand.

Here lies Billy Hargrove, innocent victim of social homicide. 

The bullying was relentless, but Billy figured he could take it. No middle school bully could come close to the one he’d lived with all his life. 

You know, the one he was glad was dead.

.🌱.💀.🌱.

Billy hadn’t wanted to attend the talent show, but Mom insisted it was important to support his friends. By which she meant her friends—women she’d been palling around with who had kids in said show.

Kids she’d been aggressively arranging playdates with like Billy was five. 

Patrick’s talent was making twenty free-throw shots in a row. Robin’s was singing “This Land is Your Land” in four different languages. His mom and Mrs. Buckley had laughed about keeping the less than patriotic lyrics, assuming the Spanish rendition would fly over people’s heads.

Billy felt bad even thinking it, but he did wonder if his mom pushing these particular friends at him was part of her fresh start campaign.

Pat was black. Robin was a girl. And his dad had a habit of muttering snide remarks about anyone who wasn’t a WASP packing a sizable stinger—who wasn’t a clone of Neil Hargrove, basically.

And look, Pat and Robin were—fine. But he knew and they knew that they were only hanging out because their moms wanted them to, which was awkward as hell. Made his palms sweat whenever they were together or whenever they said hi at school despite him being a fairy freak according to kids whose opinions mattered. 

They were nice, but it felt like pity. Embarrassing in a way that made him shrivel up inside.

So he wasn’t in the best mood, slumped in the auditorium between his mother and Doris, praying no one pelted him with shit from behind. Mom felt crappy enough about all those years with Neil—Billy didn’t need her kicking herself for scooping him out of the fire and into a frying pan.

Pat set a record—28 in a row—and Billy clapped. Robin sang her song wearing a daisy crown, and Billy clapped. Dully, he watched as stagehands set up the next act, hauling out a drum kit.

Gareth, this shrimpy sixth grader, sat at the drums. Then an eighth grader came out, followed by a couple kids in seventh, the former bearing an electric guitar, one of the latter a bass. The guitarist waved, leaned into the mic—skinny guy with a buzzcut, eyes big and dark as an alien. 

We are Corroded Coffin—paused as a contingent of the audience went nuts—and this song is called Paranoid.

In the next row, a kid whispered, excited: Think they’ll make Coleman pull the plug again?

Gareth banged his drumsticks, counting them off. 

The opening riffs were like nothing Billy had heard before—this grind of chords that rattled teeth, thrummed in the chest. He straightened, compelled forward, a fishing line hooked deep.

Buzzcut was bent over the strings so low that all you could see was the top of his head, a fuzzy cue ball. Then Gareth kicked in, and the front man wailed the first verse, this nasal staccato, sort of speak-singing.

Billy scrambled to decipher the rapidfire—caught bits of the first verses. Then the bridge begged for help, and the rest landed loud and clear.

I need someone to show me The things in life that I can't find I can't see the things that make       true happiness I must be blind

The words were meant for him—just for Billy. It’s me. The guitarist leapt, plunged into a driving solo. The song’s about me.

Make a joke and I will sigh And you will laugh and I will cry Happiness I cannot feel And love to me is so unreal

Helpless, Billy turned to his mom, who grinned, whispering they’re great, aren’t they? He could only nod, swinging back to the guitarist, riveted until the final blaring note.

For Christmas, Billy unwrapped the smallest package under the tree—a cassette. It was all he’d asked for: Black Sabbath’s greatest hits album.

Because that night of the talent show, he sold his soul for rock n’ roll.

More specifically, for heavy metal.

More secretly, for the boy with the big brown eyes.

Eddie, he’d found out at school the next day, gossip overheard at lunch. The boy was Eddie.

Eddie Munson.

And whenever Billy caught a glimpse of him, the rest of that year, he thrummed like an electric guitar.

.🌱.💀.🌱.

Unfortunately, his passion for headbanging and powerchords did not meaningfully improve the remainder of middle school, and by the time he walked the stage at eighth grade graduation, Billy resolved to make a change—give himself a fresh start on his terms.

First, he mowed endless lawns and bought a new wardrobe: bootcut jeans with matching boots, which lent him some height and a certain swagger; button downs in dark colors worn open to his sternum and white tees like the crew from Outsiders; a bitchin’ leather jacket.

His hair had progressed from Shirley Temple to Farrah Fawcett, so he trotted to the barber for a Bon Jovi bi-level. Almost chickened out at the mall when he got his ear pierced, but loved the way the earring swung from his left lobe… though the right would’ve been more accurate. 

He quit band and swim. Thought maybe he’d try basketball instead, and enlisted Pat to help him practice.

They were actual buddies by then.

Lastly, he took up smoking. Marlboro Reds, because they were badass. Soldiered through the pack all summer, suppressing a gag on every pull till he was puffing like a chimney.

August before ninth grade, Pat’s brother let them tag along to a party at the quarry; if Billy got in good with upperclassmen, it could pave the way to social acceptance—maybe even… popularity?

Total pipe dream, but then… it worked.

That night was one for the record books: first time smoking dope, shot-gunning a beer… first time a girl went down on him.

First time he’d seen Eddie in two years. Wouldn’t even have recognized him, except the eyes hadn’t changed. Eddie was a junior and looked it: taller, wild dark hair to his shoulders, tattoos peeking from his sleeves. He made a brief appearance and vanished—there to sell some supply, not socialize.

Billy wished he’d stayed. Admitted then what he was most excited about for high school: the chance to see Eddie Munson again.

.🌱.💀.🌱.

Ironically, the object of Billy’s obsession had suffered a fall from grace in the transition to the big leagues: swirling rumors swore he was a Satan-worshiping anarchist and a burnout to boot. A weirdo who played geeky games with his loser friends.

Except—unlike Billy, Eddie didn’t give a fuck. While Billy strutted around vaguely unsettled, ill at ease with his costume, this immersive performance for the foreseeable future, Eddie had unveiled his freak flag—reveled in it, let it fly.

Regret gnawed at him, grew in Billy’s gut—knew if he were a little braver, he could trash this cool kid stuff and… 

End of Eddie’s senior year, Billy was sick at heart. Knew he’d missed his shot.

.🌱.💀.🌱.

So imagine his confusion, surprise—his hidden euphoric delight—when Billy spotted that dark mop atop a wiry frame loping across the parking lot on the first day of eleventh grade.

Eddie should have graduated, but for whatever reason… hadn’t.

Thus, a new resolution: seize this chance. Be Eddie’s friend.

By second semester, Billy had worked his way up to casual chit chat and also, incidentally, was a raging pothead—so much so that his mother was worried, and she had spent the 60s stoned out of her gourd.

Let him experiment, Doris advised, winking at Billy over dinner. His grades are fine. What’s the harm?

The following evening, Doris showed him her special cookies stashed in the freezer, cautioning him to only ever take one bite and be patient. Billy asked if he could give one to his friend.

Top tier moment, right up there with Dad dying. Eddie’s eyes lit up all starry, demanded Billy come hang so they could make like Keebler—try the old elfin magic—and Billy was blessed to learn that Loaded Eddie = Handsy Eddie.

Blessed and cursed, because Eddie learned that Blazed Billy = Honest Billy. Tell me a secret, Eddie said, tickling. Tell me a secret.

Nothing happened. Eddie was just… affectionate. Bit of a snuggler. Who now knew he was the reason Billy was such a metalhead. 

And that Billy was glad—about his dad.

.🌱.💀.🌱.

Eddie was held back again, and suddenly math and history were Billy’s favorite classes because Eddie sat next to him in the back row. Seemed to do decently with Billy there egging him on.

Thus, his final resolution: graduate with Eddie. Drag him across the finish line if necessary. Billy held study sessions he didn’t need at the library after school, invited Eddie to join—and Eddie did.

Eddie invited Billy to come see his band play at a local bar on Tuesdays—and Billy did.

Tell me a secret, Eddie said one weekend, when they were sharing a bowl, and Billy snorted, gazed into bloodshot eyes. Glad you got held back. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be doing this. Eddie smirked, soft. Getting high? Billy laughed. Hanging out.

Billy turned eighteen that March, and the Buckleys and McKinneys came over to celebrate, as usual. Unusual was the doorbell as they were about to eat, Eddie and Wayne trooping in, sorry for being late.

Robin picked up on something that night—cornered him in the bathroom. Are you and Eddie…? Billy went tight, and she rushed to reassure. It’s okay if you are. I am, too. So Billy breathed, calmed. I am. I dunno if he is. Robin arched her brow. From where I’m sitting, odds are good.

Billy spent weeks yanking hope by the roots.

.🌱.💀.🌱.

Come May, they walked in green cap and gown—hugged in the milling crowd, Eddie cackling wet in his ear, a clinging koala. Didn’t think I could do it.

Billy brought him along to Robin’s graduation party. In the backyard, her old childhood treehouse beckoned, and they heeded the call.

Tell me a secret, Eddie said, sitting back against mossy boards. They weren’t even high. He flicked Billy’s earring—set his heart swinging. That should be on the other side, Billy said, and stared until Eddie flushed red, understood. I got a secret, he said, and Billy didn’t dare to know but did. 

Eddie said it: I’ve wanted to kiss you all year.

A click as Billy swallowed, bone dry. Then do it.

And Eddie did.

.🌱.💀.🌱.

[yikesharringrove]

hi i've missed you!

can we do something soft and just cute like going for drives and getting fast food and just talking?

“I’m picking you up,” came the crackling voice from the walkie talkie on the nightstand. “Meet me at the spot in ten. Over.”

“No, you freakazoid,” Steve barely moved from his blanket cocoon, only reaching one arm out to press the button on the side. “I’m asleep.”

“Clearly not. I’m on my way, Shithead. Over and out.”

Steve rolled his eyes, and contemplated going back to sleep for all of five seconds before he sighed, and heaved himself to standing.

Curse Billy for stealing that walkie from Max, for suggesting they stay on their own channel, different than the ones the kids use. Curse Billy for his insomnia and his late night drives. Curse Billy for the way he keeps on hand on Steve’s thigh while they go and always stops at the nearest drive-thru to get Steve a milkshake and wolf down a double cheeseburger (because his dad slapped him and sent him to his room without dinner. Again.)

Steve trudged around the side of his house, crashing through the well-worn path through the sparse trees to the road on the other side.

They both agreed that Billy’s car shouldn’t be spotted outside of Steve’s house, even if they were publicly friends now.

The Camaro was rumbling up the street, and Steve could practically feel the road of the engine shake in his chest before he could even spot the headlights.

Doesn’t matter how many speeding tickets Officer Callahan gives him, Billy’s never gonna be a sensible driver.

He stops in front of Steve, and he grins as Steve joins him in the car, leaning over the center console and burying his left hand in thick, dark brown hair to kiss Steve in a way that steals the breath from his lungs.

“You owe me.”

“Yeah, yeah, Princess. I’ll get you a damn milkshake.”

The car lurched forward, and they flew down the service roads, flipping off the Leaving Hawkins sign as they went past, on their way to a different little town.

A different little slice of life.

[ihni]

Steve being a good boyfriend (brought to you by someone who is also home sick, but alone).