#why do billy and nancy have the same side profile here

[ickypuppi3]

[roseyserpents]

Someone You Loved

Summary: You were the love of Billy's life. Even when tragic events happened in both of your lives, you're always there for each other. But eventually one of you become the tragic event.

Warnings: cussing, angst, car crash, death

Word count: 3,986

A/N: This is written to the song Someone You Loved by Lewis Capaldi. I've been working on this for a while and I hope you like it!

I'm going under, and this time, I fear there's no one to save me

This all or nothing really got a way of driving me crazy

For the past week you'd been stuck in your own head. You'd been trying to figure something out but no matter how many times you started over and over again, you couldn't find the answer. The two weeks before you'd been talking to Billy Hargrove, the new kid and new king of Hawkins High School after dethroning Steve Harrington, and despite what the other girls said you'd seen a softer side of him. You only saw a little bit, but it was enough for you to want to see that side of him, the side of him that didn't start random fights and hookup with every girl. But, after you tried to get him to open the door to that version of him, he slammed the door in your face and stopped talking to you. You wanted to forget it all and just move on like every other girl after they got their short time with him, but you couldn't, and the fact you were stuck in place in the situation was driving you absolutely crazy.

I need somebody to heal, somebody to know

Somebody to have, somebody to hold

Billy staggers out of his house, rage boiling in his veins as he sees red and wipes blood off his lip. His back ached and screamed for his attention as bruises formed from him being slammed into the wall repeatedly. His head throbbed with a headache and a few cuts on his face, bruises in the shapes of fingerprints on his arms. All he could smell was the alcohol suffocating his father's breath, even with him and the aroma out of sight.

He climbs into his car, slamming down the gas pedal and speeding down the road with no particular destination, just needing to get as far away as he could from his house. He had nobody to turn to in his darkest times. Nobody dared get close enough to understand him or get to know him, nobody knew this side of him. Everyone who did was gone, either left him behind or back in California. He yearned for somebody just to help him or sit with him or tell him it was okay or just let him rant until he passed out, but there was nobody. Nobody was there for him when he needed them, he didn't know anybody like that. There were plenty of people waiting to know him for a few minutes, but no one to stay, nobody to be a permanent and constant in his life.

He didn't realize where he was going until he was stopped outside your house, the only light on being the one to your bedroom. He tossed the idea over and over again in his head before reluctantly climbing out of his car and making his way to the softly illuminated window.

You really didn't expect a knock on your window at one in the morning, the not so subtle knock nearly making you jump off your bed. Another knock comes and you grab a piece of wood that had fallen off of your bed frame from under your bed, slowly approaching the window. Your hand shakes as you pull back the curtains, letting out a small yelp when you see Billy's face peering inside. Hurriedly you open your window, confused as to why he was at your house and why he looked like he got hit by a truck.

"Billy? What the fuck?" You whisper yell as he closes the window, running a hand through his unruly curls.

"I know I kind of blew you off all week but I didn't have anywhere else to go." He says quietly, barely meeting your eyes.

"What... What happened?" You could hardly get your words out, utter surprise stopping every word from passing your lips. Your mind raced with every thought you'd had the week before and some more, going from asking yourself why in the hell he was here and why he looked guilty, to what to say and do and everything in between.

Billy stays quiet, the only sounds in the room being both of your breathing. You tried to meet his eyes to see the emotions hidden in the ocean blue, but he refused, sticking to the floor instead.

"Billy?" You say softly, trying to get an answer from him.

"Look, I just... Not now, okay?" You see his hand clench into a fist and his jaw tighten and decide to leave it at that, not wanting to push him anymore and make something bad happen.

It's easy to say, but it's never the same

I guess I kinda liked the way you numbed all the pain

"I'll be right back." You say before quietly stepping out into the hall, digging through your bathroom cabinets before finding the first aid kit in the very back. You go back to your room, finding Billy sitting on your bed, staring out the window. You cross your room and sit down next to him, placing the first aid kit at your feet. He still looks forward, not removing his eyes from the sky freckled with stars. You examined his side profile, a saddened expression on his face with his lips slightly drawn into a frown. Your eyes wander to his arm where you see small oval shaped bruises making almost a ring around his bicep. Slowly you reach a finger up and graze it over the mark, Billy flinching away and you retracting your hand.

"Who did this?" You ask, looking up at him again.

He looks at his arm before looking at you, letting out a heavy sigh. "Me and my dad don't get along too well."

You gently place your hand on his shoulder, giving a pitiful look before picking the first aid kit up off of the floor and flipping it open. You take a bottle of water off of your nightstand and pour it onto a gauze, holding Billy's chin in your other hand and cleaning off the scattered cuts on his face. His eyes examine your expression as you focus on cleaning him up. A few minutes later you closed the kit and set it aside, returning at Billy's side.

For once all of the pain and anger seemed to disappear and become an almost unrecognizable ache. You numbed all of the negative feelings, his body and mind relaxed just with your presence. He didn't exactly know why you had this effect on him, but he knew he didn't want it to go away.

"Do you need to stay here tonight?" You ask after a long period of silence, snapping Billy out of his daze.

"Yeah, as long as it's okay with you."

You nod, a small smile grazing your lips. "The bathroom is the first door on the left if you need it."

Billy stands and leaves the room, you lying down in your bed after throwing your hair into a ponytail. You turn off your lamp, turning onto your side just as the door cracks open again and Billy slips inside. The hallway light disappears as he closes it again, making his way across the room. The bed dips with his weight as he lays down behind you, a small blush creeping up your cheeks.

"Y/n?" He says quietly after he settles, the room silent except for the barely audible sound of crickets outside.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

That's how it was for the next two months. Billy's dad would give him a hard time and he'd escape to your house and spend the night. Sometimes he was calm enough to talk to you about it and other times he didn't talk and just sat with all his muscles tense and anger in his eyes. Either way you cleaned him up the best you could and gave him a safe place to stay. You learned more about him and saw the soft side of him, and while it wasn't the prettiest you were still there for him.

I'm going under and this time I feel there's no one to turn to

You were working on your homework in your bedroom when flashing lights caught your attention from in front of your house. You close your book and step towards the window, your face falling when you see three police cars, a few of the officers talking to your parents. Fear of the situation consumes you as you run out of your room and fly down the stairs, making your way out the front door and standing next to your parents. You could hear your mom crying now and see quiet tears rolling down your father's face.

"Mom? Dad? What happened?" You ask, both of them turning to face you. Your mom starts crying harder and your dad looks down, more confusion displayed on your face.

"There was a fatal head on collision between two cars." One of the police officers, Chief Hopper, answer. "Your brother was in the passenger side of one of them and unfortunately he didn't make it."

Everything freezes around you, a ringing noise replacing everything else in your ears. The news seemed impossible. When your brother told you he was going out with his friends, you thought you were going to see him the next morning. They'd just learned to drive, but they all seemed trustworthy.

Hopper was trying to explain more things to your now family of three but you ran back to your room, curling up in your bed and sobbing into your pillow. All you could think about was how unfair the whole situation was and how you would never see him again, hear him or talk to him. Your house would be empty of his laugh, void of his presence. You would trade all of your memories with him just for him to be in the room just next to yours again but no matter how many times you tried to it didn't happen. You were drowning in your sorrow and overwhelming feelings, your head sinking below the waves and nobody was coming to save you.

The next day you didn't go to school, and you didn't the day after either. You got a few calls from Nancy and Jonathan but you just let it ring each time as you layed on your bed and stared at the ceiling with endless tears slipping down your face. You only left your room to use the restroom, in the span of two days only eating a peach and two slices of toast. You felt like you had no motivation for anything, not wanting to move on in a world where your brother didn't exist.

The day dragged on into night, the clock on your wall telling you it was eleven pm. You hadn't moved from your bed, lying on your side numb and void of feeling. You hear a knock on your window but don't move, a few more knocks coming before the person opens the window. They climb inside, momentarily letting the noise of the late summer night into your bedroom before it's closed again. You feel the end of your bed dip with the weight of your visitor, more tears dropping down your face and into the wet spot on your bedsheet. A hand lies on your back, their thumb gently rubbing circles into your skin. A small sob comes from the back of your throat and you close your eyes, tears somehow making their way through the cracks.

Now, I need somebody to know

Somebody to heal

Somebody to have

Just to know how it feels

"Do you... Want to talk about it?" Billy asks quietly. You shake your head and swallow a cry, feeling a pull at your heart at the suggestion of bringing his passing to reality. You sit up and turn to look at him, both of your faces barely illuminated by the small lamp on your bedside table. You see a multitude of expressions on his face, including concern but unlike the other people you'd seen there was no trace of pity. He wanted to be there for you instead of just shooting you a pitiful look and moving on.

You move closer to him and wrap your arms around his torso with your head against his chest, letting your tears fall instead of holding them in. Billy freezes a moment, emotions not being his strong suit by a long shot. Slowly his arms wrap around your waist and pull you closer to him, one of his hands running up and down your back.

"I'm sorry." You whisper after your tears slowed to a stop, pulling away and drawing your arms to your side.

"Don't be. You were there for me, so now I'll be here for you." Billy says asuringly.

So that's how your relationship progressed with Billy. Both of you were pretty broken people, but your broken pieces seemed to fit in perfectly with each other's. Everything was said to be platonic, but you knew that you were slipping down the steep slope that is falling for Billy Hargrove and you were starting to gain momentum.

Billy came in your window as usual, kicking off his shoes and plopping down next to you on your bed.

"You're still studying for the test?" He asks, looking to you with your nose in a text book.

"I want to get a good grade." You say, closing the hardcover. "You should study with me."

"Or," Billy counters, propping himself up on his arms, "We could go to a party."

"Billy, no." You immediately reject, repulsed by the idea of going.

"I am not going to take no for an answer." He says, standing up. You shake your head with a sigh as he grins down at you.

"If I get killed I'm blaming it on you." You grin, walking towards your closet to find better party clothes.

-

"Gather round we're playing seven minutes in heaven!" Carol announces. You recognize other people in the large circle, including Steve, Nancy, Tommy, and some others. You stood next to Nancy, across the haphazard circle from Billy.

Carol spins the bottle, two of your classmates running off to the coat closet down the hall. exactly seven minutes later they're back, a few more people going and more and more people coming back with lipstick stains and forming hickeys.

"I think it's Y/n's turn." Carol grins, placing down the empty beer bottle sideways on the coffee table. Your mouth twitches in disapproval but you don't say anything, watching the opaque green glass slow to a stop in front of a denim clad mullet of curls. He smirks at you and you quirk a brow before standing and walking towards the closet, whistles and yells following you. Almost as soon as you step inside the small room, hands are placed on your hips accompanied by the sound of the door closing. Your back was pressed against the wall, your breathing inclined as your eyes adjust to the dark, revealing Billy's face two inches away from yours.

"Are you sure about this?" Billy whispers, scanning your eyes for your emotions.

"Of course." You reply, breath laced with alcohol. "It's just a game, isn't it?" An unreadable emotion flashes on his face but it's quickly replaced with a smirk before his lips attach to yours in a hungry kiss. He abruptly pulls away, though, rubbing a hand over his face before stepping away.

"I can't." He sighs, leaning against the wall opposite to you. You give him a confused look, wondering why the boy who was usually all over any girl he could get was suddenly rejecting you. You chew on your lip before walking out of the door, smiling to everyone with Billy following shortly after you.

"I'm gonna head home." He says before worming through the crowd of teenagers and towards the door, leaving you confused and without a ride home from the party.

Two days later you lied in your bed, around three am giving up on the chance of Billy coming. Just as you'd shut your eyes and gotten comfortable, there was a gentle knock on your window. After opening it you sit back down on the side of your bed, Billy kicking off his shoes and closing the window before taking his usual seat next to you.

It's easy to say

But it's never the same

I guess I kinda liked the way you numbed all the pain

"You know how I always say I like girls." He starts, you nodding and giving him a tired and confused look. "And while that's far from being wrong, when I say I like you it's different. I don't really know why and I've never felt this way before. Maybe it's because you just magically take away everything that my dad causes, you just kinda numb all of my pain. That's why I couldn't kiss you at the party. I didn't want you to be just another hookup for me, because you mean more."

"Billy are you sa-"

"I'm saying, that I'd love it if you'd consider going out with me." He says, a small smile trying to hide a layer of nervousness as he waits for your response. You don't say anything verbally, instead you throw your arms around him with a smile, sending him down into your mattress with you lying on top of him. You look from his glowing blue eyes to his lips before placing your own on them in a sweet and delicate kiss.

"So is that a yes?" He asks, you rolling your eyes and trying to get up but Billy's arms hold you firm against him. He rolls onto his side so your face is buried in his chest, a warm feeling of comfort spreading through you.

From that moment on, Billy made sure everyone in Hawkins knew you were his and nobody else's. Every time you two were around each other he was touching you in some way, whether it be holding your pinkie with his or holding you flush against him with both of his arms around you. Whenever anyone attempted to ask you out or touch you, they were quick to get a black eye from Billy. He was extremely protective of you, throwing fits if you got hurt in even the smallest of ways.

You and Billy sat on your couch, your head in his lap and his hands running through your hair, a movie playing in front of the two of you that you were hardly paying attention to.

"I love you." You say suddenly, causing Billy to freeze his actions.

"Really?" He asks after a few moments of silence, disbelief in his voice.

"Really." You smile, turning onto your back so you can look up at him. One of the most genuine and pure smiles you've ever seen spreads across his lips, you being quick in copying it.

"Say it again." He mumbles, leaning over you, with his hands holding your face.

"I love you." You smile.

"I," Billy pecks your lips, "love," another short kiss, "you." The last kiss lingers, both of you being forced apart when your grins become too wide.

But now the day bleeds

Into nightfall

And you're not here

To get me through it all

I let my guard down

And then you pulled the rug

I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved

Everything was going perfect between you and Billy for about nine months, but nothing could ever stay perfect for either of you.

It was only supposed to be a quick drive up to the Quarry to have a midnight picnic at the cliff when a truck t-boned Billy's precious car driving right into the passenger side. He seemed to watch in slow motion as you were thrown violently to the side only to be stopped by your seatbelt and being jostled side to side while glass and metal slammed into both of you. The car ends up slidding into a metal pole on the driver's side, the final sound of crunching metal and cracking glass ringing out before there's nothing but silence. Billy painfully turns his head to the side, wanting to scream out when he sees your body crushed between the middle council, your door, and your seat. Jagged pieces of metal stook out in places, some starting to be coated in blood. Your blood. Your face was entirely still as the impact had knocked you out cold, hair sticky with maroon sap sticking to your cheeks and forehead. Billy attempts to move but is forced to remain still as everything in him is lit on fire at the smallest movements. He feels utterly useless just sitting there as you were basically dying before his eyes. The love of his life was slowly loosing the life inside of them and there was nothing he could do.

Sirens ring in the distance and pull up to the devastating scene less than a minute later, emergency responders working on trying to remove the two teens from the totalled car. They eventually get Billy out and load him onto a gurney, a few moments later removing you, looking so small and fragile. You lie limp in the arms of multiple people, panic gripping their faces as they lie you down on the pavement, yelling for someone to bring them something. Someone brings a defibrillator, an electric sound running through the air before they shock your chest, your body giving a violent shake. Nothing can describe the devastation Billy felt as he watches the workers try time and time again to bring you back. Eventually they yell something, rushing you onto a gurney like Billy's and wheeling you away to a different ambulance than his. He tries to protest but blackness quickly takes over his vision.

-

"Hey Billy."

Billy groans as he squints open his eyes, seeing the fiery red hair before seeing Max's grieving but relieved face. Sudden panic grips his heart as he remembers the previous events up until watching you being rushed away from him.

"Y/n." He mumbles in a weak and hoarse voice. "Where's Y/n?"

Max is quiet and looks down, a sniff emitting from her as she looks up again with tears brimming in her eyes. "They, um, they brought her here after the revived her b-but the crash was just too much for her." She hiccups, wiping at her face with her sleeve.

Billy goes silent. This had to be a dream, some kind of fucked up joke his mind was playing on him. There was no way you'd died. It wasn't possible for you to no longer be alive and breathing and laughing and smiling. You're supposed to be with him right now back at your house after taking a relaxing picnic at the Quarry. Soon he was going to wake up with your head on his chest and your body gently rising and falling with each breath that kept you alive because you are alive.

Even though visitors came and went Billy didn't talk to anyone, each day bleeding slowly into night just as you had slowly bled out next to him in his car. He was utterly broken, his heart chipping away and the pieces crumpling at his feet, but you weren't there to pick them up and gently put them back together. You weren't there to get him through this because you were the one putting him through this. The only thing he thought about was how it should've been him sitting there instead of you, or how he could've prevented everything and the girl he loved would be still with him. He was finally getting used to someone accepting him and loving him but now it was all gone, and now you were just a memory of someone he loved.

[biillyhargroves]

i hope you’re feeling better ))): i have a fic request where steve tells the party (specifically dustin) that he cant go to an event/place they all planned (whatever you think fits) because he has a date and dustin is like “ok then bring the date!” and then steve shows up with billy and then everyone reacts to harringrove

thank you so much, friend, and thank you very much for the request!! I hope that this is ok!

where is your boy(fic requests open)

“No.”

Billy’s answer is clear, curt, succinct. He doesn’t even take his eyes off the road. When Steve tries to ask again, Billy slams his foot on the accelerator, and when Steve tries a third time he turns up the radio so loud Steve thinks the windows might break from the bass. Steve switches the knob back the other way. 

“Come on,” he says.

“No.”

“Billy.”

“Why are you pushing this?”

“Billy, come on,” Steve says. “It’s one night. I promised them.”

“Oh, you promised them. Well, that changes everything.”

“Don’t give me that.”

“What?”

“That tone,” Steve says. “You’re being a real douche.”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Billy says. “The douche that doesn’t want to waste a Saturday night with a bunch of thirteen year olds. Real fuckin’ asshole.”

“You are,” Steve says.

“Uh-huh,” Billy says. “What exactly did you tell them? That you had a date?”

“Yeah,” Steve says. “So?”

“Problem solved. You’ll be on your date and they can do their stupid- what is it again?”

“It’s a movie night, Billy,” Steve says. “Movies? You know them?”

“A Star Wars marathon,” Billy recalls. “Great way to spend the weekend.”

“It’s a few hours,” Steve says.

“Per movie,” Billy says. 

“We can bail after one,” Steve offers. “One, Billy.”

“Do they even know who your date is?” Steve is silent, brow furrowed as he studies Billy’s profile. Billy lets the question hang in the air between them, and no matter hard Steve hopes, the whistle of wind fighting through the cracked-open windows crack is not enough to wash it out. Eventually, Billy says, “That’s a no.”

“So what?” Steve says defensively. “What does it matter?”

“They’re gonna be pissed at you.”

“Max isn’t pissed,” Steve says.

“Not at you,” says Billy. “You didn’t get the speech.”

“She gave you a speech?”

“Yeah, there was a fuckin’ speech, Harrington,” Billy says. 

“What’d she say?”

“Don’t change the subject.” 

“I just wanna know what she said!”

“Maybe you’ll hear the flip side from her little shit friends.”

“Okay,” Steve says. “Okay, listen. I get it. You’re not their favorite person.”

“No shit.”

“They can warm up to you,” Steve says. “You have me and Max to vouch for you.”

“Sure,” Billy scoffs. 

“And Nancy and Jonathan will be there,” Steve says. “So it’s not just us.”

“Like that makes it better,” Billy says.

“We watch one movie, and we’re gone,” Steve says. “I can, like...get sick or something.”

“What are we, sneaking around mom and dad?”

“It’s a fucking excuse,” Steve says. “I’ll start to feel sick, you can take me home, then we have the whole night to ourselves. Okay? And if it all goes to shit, I won’t ask you to hang out with them again.”

“You wanna try that last part again?”

Steve sighs heavily. “It’s one Saturday night, and I’ll never ask you to hang out with them again. Unless-” But Billy holds up a finger, his hand hovering dangerously over the volume knob. Steve sighs again. “That’s it,” he says. “Deal?”

Billy is quiet. He takes a few more turns in silence, then says, “Fine. Deal.” 

---

“Who do you think he’s bringing?” Dustin asks.

“Steve?” asks El.

“I bet it’s Lori Rollins,” says Dustin. “She’s been spending a lot of time at the video store if you know what I mean.”

“All the girls spend a lot of time at the video store,” Mike says. 

“Could be Jenny Graves,” suggests Lucas. 

“What about that girl he’s always hanging out with?” asks Mike.

“It’s not Robin,” says Will. 

“How do you know?” asks Lucas.

“It’s definitely not Robin,” says Dustin.

“What does it matter?” Max says a bit too harshly. “We’re gonna find out soon anyway.”

“Woah,” Lucas says. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing’s the matter,” Max snaps. She is on the couch, and she lets her head fall back against the cushions and rolls her eyes. El slides closer to her- if anything else, for moral support. She doesn’t know exactly what’s making Max so agitated, but she’s been around the Hargrove-Mayfield house enough to have a guess. She’s heard two sets of footsteps sneaking in late at night when she sleeps over, and before they rode Max’s bike to Mike’s house, it looked like Billy was getting ready to go somewhere, too. 

“Who are we still waiting on?” Nancy asks. She enters the room with popcorn in hand and Jonathan in tow. Jonathan sweeps the room, counting heads as he does.

“Steve, right?”

“And his date,” says Dustin.

“Steve’s bringing a date?” asks Nancy.

“We’re trying to figure out who it is,” says Lucas. Then there is a knock at the door.

“Looks like we’ll find out,” says Jonathan. Dustin is the first to bounce up, and he clamors to the front door with the other boys in tow. Max and Eleven hang back, Max staring up at the ceiling as El listens to the commotion at the front door. 

---

“One movie,” Steve says, “then we’re gone.”

“I heard you the first three hundred times.”

“It’ll be fine,” Steve says. 

“Are you saying that for yourself or for me?”

“Both,” Steve says. “Definitely both.”

Steve is visibly nervous as they approach the Wheelers’ front door. Billy walks a few steps behind him, his hands shoved into his pockets and his head down. He waits, and then nudges Steve when he makes no move to knock on the door. Steve jolts forward, and he knocks so frantically that Billy has to pull his arm away to stop the madness. Billy opens his mouth to speak, but whatever he planned on saying is lost when the door swings open to four smiles that quickly falter when they catch sight of Billy. 

“Uh,” says Steve. “Hi.” 

“Hi,” Will, Mike, and Lucas say as Dustin shouts, “What the shit?”

In the living room, Max squeezes her eyes shut. “Here it goes,” she groans.

“Here what goes?” El asks.

“Billy’s here.” 

“Billy?” Jonathan asks.

“Billy Hargrove?” says Nancy. 

“Well, at least everyone knows my name,” Billy says. He enters the room behind Steve and with the boys all crowding around them, a million questions tossed at them from four different voices. 

“Billy is your date?” says Dustin, and Lucas asks Max if she knew about this, and Will asks how long they’ve been seeing other, and Mike asks why Steve brought Billy Hargrove to his house, and then Nancy and Jonathan jump up with another thousand questions on the tips of their tongues and no voices to ask them with. They look at each other, and then to El and Max. El seems only mildly surprised, and Max is rising off the couch.

“Enough!” she shouts. “Jeez. At least let them sit down.” 

“So you knew?” Dustin accuses. 

“He’s my brother,” Max says. “Of course I knew.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” asks Lucas.

“Because it’s none of her business,” Billy growls, and Steve grabs his wrist when he sees the heckles going up. Billy snarls, but concedes. He stays behind Steve, shaking his head, and El offers them both a seat on the couch. Max turns as well and sits on the other end so that Billy and Steve are sandwiched between the girls. 

“I didn’t think you’d come,” she tells her brother.

“I didn’t want to,” Billy says back.

“Dustin said it was okay,” Steve says defensively.

“You said you had a date,” Dustin says. “You didn’t say who the date was with.”

“Well it was with Billy,” Steve snaps. “Okay? Here he is.”

“Steve,” Nancy says, and Steve shakes his head.

“No,” he says. “No. You guys are jumping down our throats. Now, you wanted me to come watch movies with you, so I’m here, and Billy’s here, too, because you told me I could bring him. Okay? You said I could bring him-”

“Steve,” Billy says. He tries to take Steve’s arm, but Steve swats him away. 

“No,” he says. “They’re being shits to you.”

“I think everyone’s just surprised,” Nancy says. 

“About both you,” Jonathan adds. 

“Well, they’re together,” Max says. 

“It’s not exclusive,” Billy clarifies.

“You haven’t gone out with anyone else,” Max says.

“You spying on me?”

“I’m observant,” Max says. “And you’re exclusive.” She turns her attention to the group and says, “They’ve been together for weeks.”

“Thanks for that, Max,” says Steve, and she waves him off. The group quiets down. Steve absently reaches for Billy’s hand and Billy lets him take it, though he keeps his head down so that he can’t see all the eyes on them. Max moves so that she’s sitting on the edge of the couch- defensive, protective, placing herself in front of her brother. El, too, leans herself forward. There is a long and awkward pause. 

“We should start the movies,” El says eventually. She looks at everyone in turn, then to puts her attention on Steve and Billy. “Right?”

They look at each other, and then to El. “Yeah,” Steve says at the same time Billy says, “Sure.” And with this settled, Jonathan pops in the first tape, and everyone settles in for the night. Steve and Billy pretend to ignore all the stares that they get, the heads that swivel to peek at them and quickly turn around when one of them (or, perhaps worse, Max) notices. 

As the first movie nears its end, Steve whispers to Billy, “Should I get sick now?”

At this, Billy smiles and half-laughs. “Only if you really sell it.”

[gutterdreams]

I’m burning every t shirt. Billy or Steve xxx.

THIS WAS REALLY CHALLENGING. I hope this is alright.

When you were small, your favoritething to do was play with Lego and build towers and castles that cameto your mind in a fit of inspired imagination. Your brother, Billy,on the other hand loved only to knock them down with loud yelps andhis version of karate kicks. After an evening bath, you loved beingwrapped up like a burrito in a fuzzy towel while he whipped his offand ran full at the living room wall while screaming and pounding hischest, leaving water throughout the house. You two always handledeverything different. It made for a lot of heated arguments at thedinner table, in the bathroom, and in the Camaro, but ultimately, youhad grown up thick as thieves.

It wasn't very surprising that Billywas exploding with emotions when you and Steve broke up while youkept most of your feelings to yourself. Billy wasn't particularlyfond of Steve Harrington. The whole reason you started talking to thebrunette boy with the pretty eyes was to get under your brother'sskin, but ironically, Steve wound up getting under your skin until itwas all you could do to not jump his bones in the middle of theschool parking lot. Billy backed off of Steve at your request, butonly if you adhered to Billy's demands that you never bring Stevehome, you never engage in PDA in a public space that Billy was alsooccupying, and that Billy was allowed to commit any assault he sawfit against Steve if you came home in tears.

One week ago when Steve asked you tograb a bite with him after school, you had to remind yourself of thelast demand the whole way home. It was a silent car ride after Stevehad called things off. His eyes were searching the side of your facewhile your mind reminded the rest of your body not to allow theproduction of tears.

Steve couldn't read you now, but heimagined you weren't happy with him or about the situation. It wasn'tthat he wasn't having a great time with you, but he still foundhimself thinking of Nancy when you weren't around and he felt like itwasn't fair for either of you to continue being together if he wasn'tone hundred percent committed. You gave him the benefit of the doubtsince it was challenging to tell how much of what he was saying wassincere. He had always been straight with you just as you had beenwith him. There was no weakness in either of your abilities tocommunicate.

“I'm dropping Max off at the arcade.You want to come?” Leaning against your bedroom door, a half eatenapple in hand, Billy interrupted you. His dad had pretty much barkedat him like it was an order.  “What are you doing?” You were onyour knees in the corner of the bedroom you and Max had to share,folding sweaters into a plastic bag.

“This is just Steve's stuff. Hewants it back.” Reasonably, they were his articles of clothing andone library book taken out under his name. “I know you told me tonever bring him over here,  but I'm just going to leave it on thedriveway for him to swing by and get.” Even though it ached harshlyin your chest when you and Steve spoke, you two were still friendlyin class and he had mentioned he could pick his stuff up tonightinstead of you having to bring it to school in front of everyone.

“I can drop it off.” Way too eagerto be innocent, Billy told you. When you looked up, tossing your hairbehind you, you spied the same devious look in his eyes that he worewhen he pushed your face into your cake at your fifth birthday. Itwas the first time his dad ever whisked him away by the collar of hisshirt and berated him.

“No. It's fine. He said he's goingto come get it.” Right now, your main focus was to keep Billy andSteve apart. Ever since you and Steve broke up, Billy had gone rightback to his old ways of harassing Harrington. In fact, he was cruelerthan before due to the fact that he now thought Steve was a biggeridiot for dumping the coolest girl to ever step foot in Hawkins,Indiana. “Stay here. I'll tell dad, I'm taking Max. Just chill.”It took so little to work up your brother. He woke up like a tickingtime bomb and went to bed just as uneasy. Besides, you didn't want tobe around when Steve showed up. 

Groaning as you stood up from yourknees, you took the plastic bag and carried it to the door, callingfor Max as you did.

Billy usually drove around town,looking for short skirts and freshman to make fun of, while waitingfor Max's hour and change at the arcade to come to an end. Youconsidered doing the same or going to a drugstore to comb throughtheir magazine section as it was the beginning of the month, butinstead you decided to just drive home. You told Max that she couldhang out with her friends for two hours instead and gave her afistful of quarters from the bottom of your satchel.

You wished you hadn't though. As youpulled up in front of your house, you recognized the station wagonsitting out front before you saw Steve scratching his head at yourfront door.

“Hey.” He turned as you parkedbehind him, scratching his head with lowered brows. “I thought youwere just going to leave my stuff outside.” As he was coming offyour porch and approaching your car, Steve mentioned.

Out of instinct, your eyes lookedaround the front of your place for the plastic bag that you had leftthere when you took off with Max. Pushing open the car door, you slidout and stared at your front yard.

“Somebody might have taken it.”Hawkins seemed like a relatively safe town, but people were boredthere. Stealing a bag of clothes was probably riveting to some dorkon a bike on your long street. Unlike Steve and most of the kids youwent to school with, you did not live in the suburbs.

“Why does your street reek ofsmoke?” Holding his sides, Steve asked, wrinkling his nose up as hepointed it toward the darkening sky.

You had noticed the odor when youturned onto your street, but the sight of Steve's dad's cardistracted you from it. It was more pungent now as if it was comingfrom your house. Like the tropical bird on your morning cereal box,you followed your nose and led Steve to the backyard. Stunning bothof you, Billy was drinking a beer in front of the fire pit that yourdad had built at Susan's request for roasting marshmallows and hotdogs. With a stretched out wire clothing hanger, Billy was pokinginto the flames. He saw Steve and raised his homemade poker, showingoff one of Steve's cardigans that you used to wear like a lettermanjacket around school. It was mostly black now, charred sleeves thatwere once a gorgeous autumn hue.

“Billy, what the Hell?” At a lossfor words, you managed to ask.

“I'm burning every shirt!” Billydeclared after swallowing a refreshing gulp of beer. He tossed thecan into the fire and attacked Steve with eyes as hot as the flameshe had ignited. “You fucking dump my sister, I burn your shit,how's that feel, pretty boy?” He had the wire hanger lifted again,pointing it right at Steve's nose.

The plastic bag was sitting next toyour brother's feet and you rushed away from Steve to grab it. Therewas still a couple things left in it. Billy dropped the hanger andstepped in front of you, blocking you from coming any closer to thepossessions that were formerly your ex boyfriend's.

“Ah, ah, ah...you said I couldn'tphysically harm him unless you were crying. Lift the ban and get theshit or keep the ban and I burn the shit.”

Someone else might have just throwntheir hands in the air and walked away, but you weren't just anyone.You were Billy's sister and you knew there was no end to just hownuts he could be. Internally, you weighed your options before lookingover your shoulder at Steve who was still pale and dumbfounded at theentire scenario. He couldn't believe that you were actually thinkingabout a solution to what Billy said.

“Just forget about it!” Stevewaved at you and started walking away, muttering to himself about howcrazy the Hargrove kids were. He wasn't sure if there was any hopefor Max.

“Don’t look like that, [Y/N/N]. He deserves it.” Throwing an arm around your shoulder, Billy snickered. He could only make out your profile, but he knew you better than you knew yourself. He could tell you were watching Steve with a longing stare that belonged in a soap opera. “You’re too good for that cocksucker. Pick a shirt, toss it in.” He cocked his head toward the flames, egging you on to join him. 

In a way, it was sweet that he was trying to help mend your heart even if his methods were deranged.

[elizabethrobertajones]

Hey you, during the course of this season i Have seen more and more people leave the fandom or grow disinterested in spn, and im confused why that it. I get why maybe s12 wouldnt be a fave season but if I look at the wank and bads of the previous ones (destiel fiasco in/out the show s9, charlies death Dean cruelty to Cas in s10, Dean/baby love interest s11) s12 didnt really do much that would drive people away en masse I feel? Yet it seems like more people left it :(

Heya! :D

Idk, maybe it was that more vocal people drifted off? I always feel like people’s attention spans are usually only a few years or so. I mean, I feel like I’ve been in the fandom a Long Time and I’ve only been here since the end of season 9, so really this is only my 3rd hiatus, and coming up to 4th year watching with fandom, on a 12 year show I’ve been watching for nearly 10 years, for the most part as a moderately casual viewer… I think I clock up about 5 years major interest and then drift, based on me vs several other things like how invested I was in LotR or Harry Potter or Animorphs, or whatever (to go back in time to my pre-teen interests :P) and it’s not a bad thing and I still love 2 of those franchises and have engagement in them but back to being a casual fan (if “religiously watches LotR at Christmas” is casual allowing for cultural/social stuff, but I’m not composing Legolas/Aragon smut in my teenage journal in secret code any more :P) 

Anyway the season 8 bubble of fandom could be deflating about now - that’s long enough for people to feel they’ve given the show their full attention and it’s still going so it’s getting tiring. That’s the major feeling I get - people are exhausted and we had a baby boomer fandom around season 8 so that ~generation~ of fans is now reaching the natural end of its attention span in a very human natural way. But there’s a ton of new or newer fans who are still enjoying the heck out of it, and the fandom’s still huge and full of people with a commitment to the show or ships. And some people don’t work like that and are loyal from start to finish or commit to TV shows fully to see them to their end. I would dump a show I was getting bored of but come back to watch the end later in a big marathon to find out what happened, but Supernatural hasn’t given me a reason to get totally un-invested until that time… I suspect a lot of people will watch the entire show ONE DAY but don’t want to do fandom and give it all their leisure time any more either.

[under a cut for meandering rambling]

But yeah I think you’ve named some pretty big mass exodus moments (I would like to clarify “Dean/baby” is “Dean/Amara-as-an-infant” right? Because Dean/Baby totally was a thing in 11x04 and it was GLORIOUS :P) and I feel like I DID lose people from my dash all through the time I’ve been watching. Heck, I hit up fandom right after 9x18, and started following people, and that was the JIB of “we don’t play it that way” so I immediately was following several abandoned blogs and I’d barely even started to get to know the landscape :P I feel like people HAVE been jumping ship the entire time and I remember most of those instances as sadly clearing several favourite people off my dash or turning them into different fandom blogs that I eventually unfollowed out of confusion… 

I don’t know, I think people leave when they want to leave because as long as you like the core of a thing and it holds your interest, you can forgive or ignore or scowl at but hold out for better the bad bits and problematic parts. I’m sort of weary of them killing all the women and PoC but I’m still at the stage where I identify it sucks, but I still care too much about the main characters that I’m sort of stuck on this ride with them. 

(I have 2x21 paused on the screen next to me right as Sam meets all the special children, aka introducing Lily the lesbian who dies horribly as a disposable red shirt to show how awful this situation is, and Jake, a black guy whose power is being super strong and to fall to Azazel’s manipulation, kill Sam, and then get killed with extreme overkill by Sam. In the same season he set the cops on Gordon, also a black man who was really aggro and cruel, but in the next season becomes a monster and Sam kills him also one of the most brutal kills he has up there with Jake. Basically, the show’s always had some issues and if we carried on watching all the way to season 12, well, apply self-reflection, but at this point if you’ve been watching as long as I have, you just kind of accept the show sucks at certain things, and for ME personally it’s not kicking off the sort of weariness that others felt about Billie and Alicia and Eileen being killed off this season)

… I don’t really have a point, expect about the demographics of fandom during season 8 getting to the end of their interest now. I don’t think EVERYONE who did will leave, and we’re getting fresh blood all the time, but I think that’s just part of the nature of being in fandom. I don’t think season 12 is particularly bad from my experience, although some pretty high profile bloggers have gotten exhausted - again, they’ve been maintaining blogs and producing content since single digit seasons so they’ve contributed a LOT to the fandom and there’s a fatigue about contribution as well… 

That’s partially why I meta and gif and write fic and occasionally make random shitposts… I don’t want to burn out because any one of those things on its own can get pretty boring, even writing fic. Or especially, idk, as a writer I tend to bounce around projects, so this is keeping me weirdly focused on writing my original fiction on one side of my brain and fan fic on the other and it seems to be a better way of splitting my attention… But I digress. :P 

I know how to manage my own brain to some degree but I have a lot of time to contemplate and self-reflect on why I’m in fandom and what I get out of it, and mostly I just conclude I’m bored and house-bound and I’ve found a few tried and tested things that get me some positive attention in a non-weird rat with a pleasure button way like people running hate blogs or something… But I know my own head and that I can get bored of stuff so I marathon a lot of other shows and think about other things than fandom stuff as much as possible and just let this be the gutter my brain drains into when my attention span is too shot to hell to do anything else and I just want to slump over a keyboard and do the easiest activity I know bar playing Animal Crossing for hours. 

Other people with busier lives and actual jobs and energy and limbs that don’t just randomly stop working when they do anything for more than 5 minutes and so on might not be casual fans but they make a certain space in their life for fandom and get out of it what they need but it’s a high quality demand thing so if their carefully allocated me-time isn’t rewarding them like it should it’s totally their right to go find another OTP to amuse themselves with a fandom producing stuff they want to see and a media source that’s giving them what they want immediately and in a way they don’t have to “look for scraps” as some people were saying about Destiel in season 9, 10 and 11 while things were thinner on the ground.

And as one of the too-much-free-time fandom contributors, I’ve got an enormous luxury to stick out things people who don’t have time for being jerked around or over-analysing to find what they want to see have… Although I’ll try and pass on my thoughts for the people with less time to think them to try and help them enjoy themselves as much as possible :P Anyway I think a whole range of reasons happen that people might get fatigued of the show especially as lives change and people blogging enthusiastically one day might get a job or a new relationship or a dog or SOMETHING and just not spend quite so much time online and then discover they don’t NEED to spend so much time on fandom, and drift naturally… Then try and find some reason on the show they’ve stopped watching, but often it’s just that things look worse after time away when the spark has started to fade because it’s not being nurtured in the same way any more. 

And 12 years is a LONG ASS TIME to be invested in something, so I think in general the fatigue or changing interests is all over the place and we might see it more and more as people drift… People who might watch it all as a catch up one day maybe a year or two after the show ends, but just don’t have the patience to stay in fandom and put in that energy over and over and over. 

Also the show is in a really weird place where it has some of the best writers it’s ever had in Berens and the newbie writers, and Dabb’s doing some fascinating things with the plot, but Buckleming are the executors of the story, in several interpretations of that phrase :P And there are people who skip MotW and find them unimportant or would judge the season on the plot, not the heart of the story… It’s a pretty precarious place, quality-wise. I think season 11 and 12 are a proper like, silver age revival of the MotW (with Nancy Won and Robbie giving last season a massive boost) where I think those episodes are really innovative and interesting, and the writers are being allowed a lot of freedom to play on THOSE canvases, but while the character development and *reasons* for the story have been fascinating and important, obviously 5 of the plot episodes this latest season were Buckleming and crucial to watch to know wtf was going on, even though the writers of those episodes seem to have such a terrible problem with hating the audience (literally, it’s in their scripts and off-screen comments), the genre, second drafts, common human decency towards characters and understanding why they’re important, pacing, you name it… :P So the show literally has 2 faces these days and depending on which one you see when you think of season 12, probably defines how you feel about the show as a whole and all that. I treat the plot episodes these days as a necessary evil between episodes written by people who actually like the show and care about it and its characters (see also: my non-stop sobbing about 12x22 since it aired)… But seeing the other face can really cast a cloud over the show and I’ve seen it make people wonder why the other writers even try. (I mean Perez did an incredible salvage job on Crowley in 12x15 only for it to immediately get yanked away again the next time BL wrote him and I think only they really got to play with him for the rest of the season, meaning all that work to make it seem important and thematically relevant that Perez had set up in 12x12 and messed with in 12x15 ended up being for nothing and Dabb had no time to do anything deep with Crowley, because 12x13 turns out to be the big Crowley & Rowena farewell episode, except for how it flubbed the entire premise of Grand Send Off Episode a la 7x10 or something despite all the ingredients being there…)

I am just rambling now so… Gonna hit post. Hope this makes sense :P This is just my interpretation of how people are feeling/how fandom as an entity seems to work, so it’s pretty subjective and others might feel very differently especially people who have been in negative echo chambers while I’ve built myself a reasonably positive one plus SENSIBLE and CONSTRUCTIVE wanky criticism that doesn’t go off the deep end :P

[biillyhargroves]

hi!! for the Angst/fluff Prompt List could you do #85 for harringrove?? i love your writing so much!! you’re so talented!!! thank you (:

This is going to be a little post-S2, early relationship setting because that’s what I’m feeling!!!

that brutal youthsteve harrington/billy hargrove + “don’t lie to me.”(fic requests open)

Something is wrong with Billy. 

It’s something Steve has been told over and over again, and over and over again he is told what that something is. The list, so far, reads: 1) he stood up Carol for a date; 3) he cursed out a clerk at the drug store for refusing to sell him cigarettes; 3) he gets into too many fights, some of which have caused lasting damage to parents’ properties that come out of allowance money and whole teenage cashier paychecks of kids too afraid to out the new town badass as the culprit. These, however, are not the things that concern Steve- or, rather, they are not his primary concern. No, Steve doesn't care much about how all the things Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Byers and the merry band of misfit kids he’s accidentally adopted say about Billy. These are the things that Steve takes in stride, the things he hears Billy’s take on (he had to go find his sister- stepsister -who had snuck out had scared their parents half to death, he had a bad day, people piss him off, so on and so forth). The thing that’s wrong goes far beyond all of Billy’s usual transgressions.

It’s the split lip that Billy swears is from a fight with Tommy H. at last weekend’s “no parents, let’s get wasted” bash. It’s the bruised knuckles that crack and bleed when he holds the steering wheel. It’s the way he sometimes leans on the door for support when he gets out of the car, or winces when Steve touches him unexpectedly, or how he shows up to school in yesterday’s clothes all crinkled and slept-in. 

Today in particular, Steve is worried of the black-eye that has bloomed over the right side of his face. It is the most obvious injury that Steve has ever seen on him- worse than the bruising that sometimes speckles his chest or broken nose he swore was a keg party badge of honor; worse than the mild limp he sported for a week when he said that Jason Miller had blown it out during a pick-up basketball game. Billy cannot hide this one. He can’t throw a shirt over it; he can't ice it better or milk it for sympathy. It is partnered with a gnarly scab slashed through his eyebrow, puckered and swollen. 

“What the hell happened?” Steve asks when he finally sees. Billy has avoided him all day, has ducked away and dodged him in the halls, has skipped classes, even tried to book it out of the parking lot before his sister (stepsister, he’d always correct) made it to the car. 

“It’s nothing,” Billy says. 

“Nothing?” Steve asks. He is standing on the street outside the drug store where a different, younger clerk had forgone an ID check to sell Billy a pack of Marlboros. An unlit cigarette dangles between Billy’s lips and his hand is fishing in his pocket for his lighter. He stilled when Steve approached him, a deer caught in headlights, and now he flicks the lighter on. The little flame dances, but it’s shadows are not enough to obscure the deep purple surrounding Billy’s eye. 

“Yeah,” Billy repeats. He lights the cigarette and inhales, then blows a puff of smoke toward Steve. “Nothing.” 

“I haven’t seen you all day,” Steve says.

“I was busy,” Billy says. 

“You were avoiding me,” Steve says. Billy’s silence is all the answer he needs. “Am I seeing you tonight?”

Billy looks up and down the street. It is a Wednesday afternoon. There is a Girl Scout troops selling cookies outside the grocery store and an elderly man walking his dog around the far corner. A group of kids on skateboards practice kick flips down the road from the drug store. Billy pinches his cigarette between his fingers and lets the smoke swirl up in the wind. He sighs. “Fine.” 

They are discreet when they are together. They find quiet places, like back parking lots and the city limits. Tonight, Steve's father is away on business, and his mother has trailed along. Instead of a party, he kept his plans open for Billy. He paces by the back door, watching the Billy’s headlights in the window. They never go anywhere together- not in a way that they can be seen. Billy circles nearby blocks to avoid being obvious, then parks two streets over and takes short cuts to Steve’s backyard. Steve hates the secrecy more than he will admit, but he won’t fight it. Billy won’t have it any other way. 

In the evening light, Billy’s eye somehow looks worse. Steve tries to control his reaction as he opens the sliding glass door to let Billy inside. 

“There’s beer in the fridge,” he says, though Billy is already beelining toward it. He takes out two cans and leaves one on the counter. He cracks open the other and drinks the whole damn thing in one fell swoop. Steve hands the second beer to him and takes a third out for himself. He follows Billy into the living room, where Billy does not sit but instead paces as he sips moderately at the second beer. 

“So,” Steve says eventually. He leans against the doorframe, one hand holding a can of Miller’s and the other stuffed in his pocket. “Are you going to tell me about that?”

“About what?” Billy asks. 

“That,” Steve says, motioning toward his own eye. Billy shakes his head so that his hair falls over his face and he carries on his pacing. “Tommy H. again?” Steve asks. “Or maybe it was Jason? Or someone new this time?”

“What the fuck do you mean?” Billy snaps.

“Just that you tried to hide a black eye from me all day.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Billy says. “Our paths not crossing does not mean I was fucking avoiding you.”

“Okay,” Steve says. “But still. That looks nasty.”

“It’s fine.”

“Are you sure it’s not infected?” Steve asks, and when Billy pauses to glare at him he points to his own brow. “That cut. Right there. It doesn’t look good.”

“I can leave if you're so disgusted,” Billy snarls.

“Woah, hey,” Steve says. His tone softens and he holds out his hand defensively. “I didn’t mean it like that. Just that, y’know, if that hurts, I can maybe try to help. I mean, I don’t know jackshit about patching people up, but I know my way around a first aid kit. Generally.”

“What, you wanna play nurse?” Billy teases.

“I’m being serious,” Steve says, exasperated. Billy says nothing. He downs the rest of his beer and sets the can on the coffee table as he collapses onto the couch. Steve hesitates before approaching him, and he tries not to react to the way Billy flinches when Steve sits beside him. “What’s really going on?” Steve asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Come on, asshole,” Steve says. “The black eye. The bloody knuckles. The bruises. It’s not all fights.” Billy doesn’t look at him, but Steve studies his profile. His jaw is set. His head is down. He’s listening- he’s thinking. “I’m at all the same parties. I know shit in this town. I know that there was no pick-up game.” Billy stiffens, and he turns his head away so that Billy can no longer see his face. “I know there was no fight with Tommy H.”

“Fuck off,” Billy grumbles, voice low and sounding somewhere between guilty and furious. 

“Billy,” Steve says, and Billy’s head snaps toward him. “Don’t lie to me.” 

“Why do you even care?” Billy demands. “We’re not dating. There’s no feelings here.”

“Maybe there could be,” Steve says. 

“For you,” Billy says flatly.

“Yeah, for me,” Steve says. “Whatever. Even if it’s one-way, I fucking care about you, and you’re fucking worrying me. Okay? I care about you. So why don’t you just cut the shit and tell the damn truth?”

"That’s what you want, huh?” Billy says. He jumps to his feet, towering over Steve as he remains perched on the overstuffed couch cushions. He starts to pace again, in a shorter field this time, and Steve watches him carefully. “That’s what you want?” Billy says. “A fucking sob story? You want me to, like, share my fucking feelings? Spill out some dark secrets?”

“I want to know why you’re always hurt,” Steve says. He jumps up, too, as he says it and the suddenness startles them both. Billy stills. Steve hesitates, questioning himself, then square off his shoulders and moves toward Billy. “I want to know what this is all about,” he says, and he gently cups Billy’s cheek in his hand. Billy tears himself away, but his own hand reaches up where Steve’s had been.

“What if I told you?” he asks. “What if I tell that my old rails on me, huh? That he gets drunk and he gets mad and sometimes I get a fist to the face? What then, Harrington? Is that what you want to hear? That I don’t know when the next hit’s coming? That he knocked me out? What’s it matter to you?”

It takes a moment for Billy’s words to set in, but when they do, Steve’s heard sinks. 

“Billy,” he says, but Billy is shaking his head and moving for the door.

“I’m leaving.”

“Wait,” Steve says. He catches Billy’s wrist as Billy tries to get past him. 

“What?” he snarls. 

“Is it true?” Steve asks. His fingertips touch the edge of Billy’s bruise and while Billy flinches, this time he doesn’t pull away. 

“Just let it fucking go,” Billy says.“Does your dad hurt you?” Steve asks. 

“Why do you care so much?” Billy asks.“I just-” Steve stumbles, because what he is supposed to say? Nothing is official between them. They’ve never so much as said I love you. They don’t wear labels. They aren’t anything, formally, to one another. But Steve knows that he cares for Billy, and that seeing Billy hurt makes him hurt, too. He knows that he wants Billy safe. “I don’t like being lied to.” 

He cups Billy’s cheek and Billy lets him. Billy lets Steve’s thumb graze over the outline of his darkened bruise. He jerks his head back when Steve touches the angry wound across Billy’s brow. “At least let me clean this?” he asks. “Seriously, Hargrove. I don’t need you toting diseases around.”

This gets the smallest smile out of Billy, and it is enough to relax Steve at least slightly. Billy’s shoulders sag. “Fine,” he relents. “That’s fine.”