#when i'm high i get super calm and content and warm and fuzzy. so it was like that except super amplified?? and i wasn't on anything.

[leecherish]

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[hartigays]

Ok so firstly I absolutely adore your writing! Not only is your characterization on point but the way you use words and create these beautiful sentences full of emotion? *chef's kiss* anyway, could you possibly write something where like Steve is triggered by something related to his homelife trauma (feeling dumb, ignored etc) and he starts to panic and billy has to calm him down? I know that's both super vague and too specific but whatever you decide to do I'm sure it'll be brilliant!! Thank u!

“what are you, stupid? jesus. king steve, everybody. in all his glory.”

steve feels his cheeks burn bright red. tommy can be such a fucking dick sometimes.

no - not sometimes. all the time. every waking moment of his life is spent being an insufferable prick. steve has long since gotten used to it, but this? this just. sucks.

because he’s standing in the fucking hallway, surrounded by curious onlookers. his peers; the ones who used to look at him with stars in their eyes. now watching him be humiliated by the guy who used to claim to love him when no one else was around to hear.

same way his father always did. steve may be the former king of hawkins high, but his father still reigns king when it comes to tearing steve down in the most humiliating and public ways possible.

when he’s around, anyway.

steve glares at tommy, his throat working. it feels tight, like his comeback is stuck inside, the words packed tightly together. tommy just stares right back.

fucking dick. steve tries to remember what he’d felt all those years ago, when they were young and naïve and tommy didn’t care about his reputation or appearances. when they’d fall together in the dark, learning each other’s mouths and bodies and trading secrets in the quiet of his bedroom. stupid hormonal teenagers without a care in the world.

but that was before. before tommy got scared. before carol, or nancy. before steve’s world literally turned upside down.

steve can hear the snickering of his classmates, the hushed whispers. he just - it’s too much. his chest feels tight and his breath comes out in short bursts. he wants to move, to get the hell out of dodge and wash the feeling of tommy’s cruel gaze off of him. but he feels like he’s frozen in place, until. until.

a pair of curious blue eyes find his. billy, quiet as ever. he’s always quiet these days, that big personality and overbearing presence of his squandered by some altercation between him and max that steve had been too unconscious to witness.

billy’s not joining in, just trying to get to his locker. it doesn’t stop him from curiously assessing the situation before him. his clear, inquisitive eyes search steve’s face, his expression perfectly neutral.

he does that a lot these days. watches steve like a hawk, always around like a second shadow. it unnerved steve at first, put him on edge. constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

nothing has ever come of it. billy just watches him, observing. dissecting steve silently from a healthy distance, for reasons steve still doesn’t quite understand. they never talk about it - it’s another unspoken thing between them, one of many.

steve finds that it doesn’t bother him anymore, not the way it did at first. he’s grown used to it - is comforted by it, even. knowing that during school hours, no matter the place, no matter the situation, billy will be there. a silent observer whose eyes steve can find whenever he needs to ground himself.

a breath of fresh air when the world gets to be too much.

“this’ll be good,” tommy snorts, smacking billy’s shoulder lightly. his hand lingers against his skin for a moment too long. long enough for steve to notice. “you ever hear the story of how king steve lost control of his kingdom, hargrove? how he was just too damn stupid to keep it together?”

steve can’t help but think about how punchable tommy’s face has become over the years. how easy it’d be to close the distance between them, slam him up against the locker and take some of his pride back.

clearly, though, it’s not as easy as it seems.

“fuck you,” is all steve grinds out, before spinning on his heel and stalking down the hallway.

all he can think is about getting out. getting away, far away. away from the eyes of his classmates, away from billy still assessing him quietly. when he reaches the double doors leading to the parking lot, he can hear raised voices.

steve doesn’t turn back to see who they belong to, or listen to what they’re saying.

he makes it all the way to the beemer, his hands shaking as he fumbles for his keys. steve hates the way his hands shake nowadays, always a slight tremor even in his down time, made worse in high-stress situations.

the sound of his keys hitting the concrete is jarring. steve slumps against the beemer, turning his face up towards the sky and taking a steadying breath.

“you sure handled that well.”

steve jumps nearly a foot in the air, his eyes flying open in alarm. billy stands a few feet away, one hand holding a cigarette, the other stuffed in the pocket of his too-tight jeans.

“yeah, well. fuck you too.” steve bends down, grabbing his keys from the pavement. his hands still shake, his body wound too tight. on the verge of a full-blown panic.

he moves to unlock the beemer, but billy grabs his elbow. takes a drag off of his cigarette, then says, “let’s go for a drive.”

steve knows not to argue with billy hargrove by now. though, that doesn’t really ever stop him. but right now he doesn’t have it in him. right now, he’s still coiled tight, just on this side of a breakdown.

the camaro smells like billy. a heady mixture of cologne, cigarettes, stale beer, and the faint scent of laundry detergent. the scent makes steve’s head feel a little fuzzy, same way billy’s eyes do.

yeah, steve has a type. as much as it pains him to admit it.

“where’re we going?” steve asks after several long minutes of silence.

billy ashes his cigarette out his window, not even glancing in steve’s direction. “you’ll see,” is all steve gets.

they drive for a little while, the silence riding the line between comfortable and uncomfortable. steve feels a little suffocated by it, the weight of it pressing down on him.

soon, however, the camaro is rolling to a stop. steve looks out the window, his brows coming together in confusion. “the quarry?”

“get out.”

steve opens his mouth to object, not a huge fan of billy ordering him around. although - that’s debatable. he’s fully aware of how he feels when billy bosses him around on the court. but at least there he can blame his flush on physical exertion rather than the truth.

but billy is too fast, swinging his door open and climbing out of the car, slamming it back shut before steve can utter a word. he can hear him rummaging around in the trunk, and, well. steve is too curious for his own good.

he climbs out, breathing the fresh air deep into his lungs. billy’s scent had been getting rather overwhelming, anyway.

billy carries a box to the edge of the quarry, not sparing a glance back at steve. not even checking to see if he’s following.

steve still does. hurries after billy, his brows still furrowed in confusion. he watches the other boy stop at the cliff’s edge, then take a seat. a moment later steve joins him.

“here,” billy says, reaching into the box and pulling out a beer bottle.

with a snort, steve takes the offering. “this is empty. the fuck am i supposed to do with an empty beer?”

billy doesn’t answer him. instead, grabs one of his own. winds his arm like he’s throwing a baseball, then launches the bottle at the ground down far below.

they both watch as it falls. steve listens for the faint sound of it smashing at the bottom.

“get the gist?” billy finally asks, turning to look at steve with mild amusement.

steve makes a face. “yeah, dickhead. i’m not an idiot.”

“i know that.”

that has steve faltering, just a bit. the words make him feel warm. but. he’s been burned so many times now that the words are just that - words. anyone can tell him he’s not stupid. they can say it all goddamn day long, but it still won’t make it true.

in lieu of a response, steve pulls back the arm holding his own bottle before flinging it into the quarry. watches as it falls, feels that pressure in his chest lessen, just a little bit, when it smashes to the ground.

they continue on like that, until they’re down to the last few bottles. carrying on in silence, until billy pauses. turns to look at him, bottle in hand.

“you always let people talk to you like that?” he asks, rolling the bottle between his palms.

steve is about to toss another bottle. hesitates at the sound of billy’s voice. “what’s it to you?”

“just curious as to why you’re so content to let a dumbshit like tommy run his big mouth,” billy tells him, shrugging. “not like he packs a punch or anything.”

“you’d be surprised,” steve mutters. tosses the bottle, flinging it with more force than the others.

billy gives him an amused look. “do i even want to know?”

“wouldn’t tell you even if you did.”

“fair enough.”

a few more beats of silence. the last of the bottles are thrown, until they’re left with an empty box. billy stands, taking it to the camaro. when he returns, he takes his previous spot, though he’s a few inches closer than before.

close enough that their shoulders brush. steve’s fingers grip the cliff edge that he’s perched on, tightening at the feeling of billy situated so close to him.

“it’s not true, you know.” billy breaks the silence once again.

steve knows what he’s talking about. plays dumb anyway. “what’s not true?”

“you being stupid. you’re a lot of things, harrington,” billy tells him, “but dumb’s not one of ‘em.”

“yeah, well. tell that to everyone else,” steve mutters. turns his face up towards the overcast sky with a tired sigh.

their shoulders knock together. billy blinks over at him with an unreadable expression. “fuck everyone else. the fuck do they know, anyway?”

“a whole hell of a lot more than me, apparently.”

billy rolls his eyes. turns back to the quarry, starting to fling rocks into its depths. “so you let people push you around like a bitch, and you let ‘em tell you who you are. rookie mistakes, harrington.”

“when every fucking person in your life has told you that you’re stupid in some way or another, you kind of stop fighting it,” steve snaps. “look, i don’t need you telling me how pathetic i am. i get enough of that shit at home.”

he’s getting a little sick of billy’s unwarranted criticism. steve would rather he just call him stupid and go. he knows how to handle that, at least. but billy doesn’t. he just keeps throwing his fucking rocks, sighing like steve has disappointed him one too many times.

“daddy issues?” billy asks with a smirk. but there’s something underneath, something sharp and bitter. something like recognition. “figured a rich pretty boy like you would have that perfect white picket fence life.”

“you make a habit of taking everything at face value?” steve fires back, fixing his gaze on billy’s profile.

“guess we all have our faults,” billy says with a shrug. “but to be fair, i didn’t have any real reason to assume otherwise.”

steve doesn’t say anything. he looks out at the quarry. back at billy. traces the sharp angles of his profile. doesn’t look away when billy meets his eyes.

“whole world can tell you what’s what, stevie boy. fact of the matter is, ‘s not their life,” billy tells him, blue eyes burning with a near-electrifying intensity. “you decide who you are. no one gets to do that for you, unless you let ‘em.”

swallowing thickly, steve looks away. brushes some of the hair out of his eyes with a hand that trembles minutely. when he places it back at the ledge, his pinky brushes against billy’s. steve feels his cheeks heat up and their eyes lock yet again, his skin buzzing at the small point of contact.

billy reaches a hand up, brushing steve’s hair from his eyes more effectively than steve himself had. he chews on his lip, his gaze flickering down to steve’s lips. back to his eyes. back down again.

“my dad. he’s been telling me who i am my whole life,” steve admits, his voice soft. “never really had a chance to figure it out for myself.”

“tell me about it,” billy murmurs. still staring at steve’s mouth. “but you gotta break free eventually, harrington. else you’re all but guaranteed to grow into those shoes he’s been trying to get you to fill. mr. harrington 2.0.”

“that what you did?” steve asks, his own gaze flickering down to billy’s mouth. “break free?”

“trying to,” billy says, easily. his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “‘s not always black and white. but sometimes...”

steve swallows. shifts just a bit closer. “sometimes...?”

billy sucks in a breath. meets steve’s eyes one last time. “sometimes it’s pretty fuckin’ clear-cut.”

when billy kisses him, steve wants to feel shocked. he wants to feel stunned by it. blindsided. but he doesn’t. it just feels inevitable.

and this inevitability, it started the moment billy barreled over to him at the halloween party. pushing through a mass of sweaty, drunk teenagers to size him up. every choice they’ve made, between the two of them, have led to this instance. this precise moment. steve felt it, even when they were at each other’s throats. he felt it in every curious look that billy cast his way after.

he felt it simmering beneath every interaction, every word, every glance. billy had always been inevitable, steve just needed to clear out some of the clutter in his brain to recognize the signs for what they were.

billy helped him do that. with a simple gesture in steve’s time of need.

so. steve lets billy kiss him. kisses him right back. it’s a soft, sweet thing, the kiss. just a gentle press of lips, billy’s hand at his jaw. feather-light and completely out of character.

but steve is starting to realize that maybe the version of billy he’d created in his head is just that. a version he’d drawn up based on experiences he only saw the surface of, assumptions he’d made through judgment, and if he’s being honest, stereotypes.

there’s definitely a lot more to billy than steve ever would’ve thought. he’s softer around the edges, sweeter. still a fucking prick, and probably always will be, but. steve can deal with that, if it means he gets to keep learning more about the enigma that is billy hargrove.

“kissing me is how you’re gonna break free?” steve asks when billy pulls away, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“not completely,” billy tells him with a soft huff of a laugh. “but it’s a start.”

they stay at the quarry a while longer, throwing rocks, shooting the shit. they don’t kiss again, not until later. not until they’re back at steve’s big, empty house. with steve pressed up against the kitchen counter, his fingers knotted in billy’s hair.

it’s not a solution to all of steve’s problems, this thing he’s started with billy. not even close. and while it may not completely cast light over the darkness that shrouds both of their lives, may not fill the void that a myriad of bullshit has created for the both of them, there’s still a bit of truth to what billy said.

it’s a start.