Final “Harringrove For RAICES”-piece, For @13callieb Who Basically Gave Me Free Reign, So I Doodled

*mutual pining angst*

+ bonus

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lmao guys we win

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Billy in a documentary narrator voice: the bottom is soft

Steve in the middle of bandaging up his kids: Hargrove I swear to god!

---

Twin sized mattress - the front bottoms

Steve’s parents move back home, and Steve can no longer handle it. So, he leaves. Leaves Hawkins for good.

••••••

Two things Steve was certain were not there when he left for work: the random car in his driveway and the disappearance of his spare key. What Steve was not certain of: whose car it was and who the hell would break in in plain sight.

Warily, Steve walks up the front stairs of the somewhat home he had made for himself, reaching for the baseball bat he kept in the front doorway and tucking it behind his back. He doesn’t bother to kick off his shoes, just closes the door extra quiet and tiptoes his way around, looking left and right and behind himself.

His heart was in the back of his throat, hands shaking slightly at the sudden thought that today could be his last day on earth. Sure, he had faced worse, but someone breaking in was up there on his list of fears. Especially with what Hawkins was becoming.

Voices coming from the dining room alerts him and sends his heart racing painfully harsh against his rib cage. “Fuck.” Mutters Steve, sucking in a deep breath and shaking out his limbs. “Fuck.”

The voices were somewhat familiar, people Steve had not heard from in almost a fucking year. People Steve wished he would never have to see for the rest of his life.

Chucking the bat off to the side, Steve kicks off his shoes and enters the dining area with a heavy heart and slouched shoulders. His parents are seated at the table, drinking cups of hot coffee and wearing clothes Steve had never seen in any stores around Hawkins. “Mother, father.” Steve greets, clearing his throat and forcing a smile onto his lips. “Long time no see.”

Both pairs of eyes catch his own and Steve almost faints right then and there. Their gazes are cold, mean and angry, Steve’s highest insecurities on the tips of their tongues. “Steven.” Replies his mother, not even pulling on a smile at the sight of her son. “Stop slouching, it’s for low end people, and you aren’t one of those now are you?”

Steve doesn’t argue. He wouldn’t win anyway. Brings his shoulders back, standing tall and mighty. “Sorry.”

“What are you wearing?” His father snaps, and Steve flinches. “It’s.. disgusting.”

“It’s my uniform.” Whispers Steve. “For family video.”

They both grimace. “And your hair, what the hell.” Harsh hands pull through his soft locks, sending an ache across his scalp. “Why is it so long.. you look like a fucking girl.”

Steve flinches. “I.. I like it long.” He mumbles. “I didn’t think it looked girly.”

He can’t help but rub anxiously at his arm, bowing his head to not have to look into the eyes of his disappointed parents. For almost an entire year, Steve had been free of their judgement. Steve had been free to do whatever he please, to wear whatever he liked and eat whatever he wanted. He had been free. And almost like a disease, Steve felt intoxicated with guilt and fear.

All his life, Steve had thought that that was how kids were supposed to feel around their parents. Fear and resentment. But fuck was he wrong. Now that he had become the kids honorary babysitter, he spent a lot of time at their homes and around their parents, the amount of love and care making Steve feel.. strange.

Joyce Byers always welcomed him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, as did Mrs Henderson and Mrs Buckley. They treated their kids with kindness and respect and understandable discipline when needed, and even that was still soft and gentle. Steve had expected yelling and screaming, slaps across the face or anything that would make him have to jump in front to save the kids from any sense of danger, but he was wrong.

So standing here, across from his parents, Steve felt abnormal. For the way they were speaking to him, acting around him, were not normal. He should not be afraid of them in the way that he is.

“I’m sorry, Steven, but this is the last straw.” His fathers distant voice states. “I can’t take your behaviour any longer.”

Steve’s head snaps up in high alert, hands shaking and heart pounding. “What?” He asks, lips quivering with fright. “What do you mean?”

Shaking his head, Steve’s father scoffs out a hurtful laugh, one that could only mean one thing. Steve starts to back away, starts looking for an easy exit if things grew bad. “Look at you. You look like a fucking girl and I’m sick of you trying to destroy the family name.”

The words hurt like a dagger to the heart. It makes Steve press his lips together, teeth gnawing at the inside of his cheek.

“We’ve heard about everything you’ve been doing. Dressing like a girl, going around and fucking men. I did not raise a fucking faggot.”

Steve takes in staggering breaths, backing himself up against the wall as his father draws closer. The fear in his gut was eating away at him, was making his skin crawl with anxiety. A hand slams against his cheek, and tears well in Steve’s eyes immediately. He doesn’t dare make a sound, stifling his sobs by a hand over his mouth.

“Now all of this, your hair, your actions and the way you choose to live is the last straw.” Stated his mother, whom he had forgotten was even there. “It’s no big surprise you turned out this way. We gave you too much freedom. That freedom is now over.”

Steve shakes his head, his entire body trembling with the overwhelming fear of what that entailed. “No.. no.. please, I’m sorry.. I’ll.. I’ll do anything, I- I swear. Please. PLEASE!”

Steve can’t remember anything after that. Just that he woke up on the floor with a bruised eye. It’s not that his father had attacked him, his head had seemed to whack against the wall and he was already prone enough to concussions, but the punch in the eye had not helped.

After waking up, his mother had forced him to get dressed into clothes that she had chosen specifically and dragged him into the car. Drove him all the way out of town to her hair salon to get his hair cut.

Having to sit in that chair made Steve have a panic attack. Made him have to run and hide in the bathrooms to try and calm himself down. He no longer looked like himself. Looked like a masculine, jackass who didn’t give too shits what he looked like.

Of course his mother loved it. Kissed his cheek and gushed about how “now that we’re back, you can finally get your life together”.

But when he shows up to work the next day, a fresh bruise on his face and the horrible new haircut, Robin looks absolutely fucking horrified. “What the fuck.” She says as soon as he walks through the doors, the first time in weeks not having picked her up due to him requesting to start slightly later than usual. “What the fuck.”

Steve doesn’t say a word, drops his shit out back and puts on his name tag, all the while ignoring Robin’s fussing, chasing after him like a bad smell. And when he finally comes to a stop, Robin grabs him by the face and inspects his face with pure concern written across her own, biting her lower lip. “What the fuck happened to you?” Whispers Robin, voice shaking.

“It’s nothing.” Steve mutters, pulling her hands away gently and forcing a smile. “I’m fine.”

“Dude, don’t take this the wrong way, but you look fucking terrible.” Robin tries to reach out again, but Steve stops her quickly with a wince. “Ha! You winced, you’re not fine.”

Steve sighs. “Rob, please. I’m okay. I promise.”

Rolling her eyes, Robin paces around the counter. “If you were okay, you wouldn’t have winced. Did I hurt you in some way? Shove you too hard the other day at work? Did you get attacked? Jumped?”

Dragging his hands down his face at her panicked rambling, Steve gives into defeat. “My parents are back in town.” He says, swallowing the lump in his throat. “For good.”

“What?”

There’s disbelief hidden in Robin’s words, her eyes widening and body coming to a stop.

“They know about how I’ve been dressing and that I’ve hooked up with.. with guys.” Steve whispers the last part, still wary at the thought of any customers overhearing. “Said my hair made me look like a girl and said they were sick of my behaviour so they’re back. Mum made me get a haircut.”

“And the bruise?” Questions Robin.

Steve bows his head “My dad.”

Robin’s breath catches. “Steve..”

“Please, don’t do that.” Steve begs quietly. “Don’t. I’m okay. I’m used to it. It’s whatever.”

“Do.. do they know about you and..”

Steve shakes his head. “That’s the one thing they don’t know.”

Robin places a hand onto Steve’s shoulder, now back at his side, head resting overtop. “Does he know?”

Steve shakes his head once more.

“Steve.. you have to tell him.”

“I can’t.” Steve’s voice breaks painfully.

“He’ll understand. You know he will.”

Sighing, Steve nods slowly. “I know I just.. I don’t want him to know about my family life. Everything is perfect between us. I don’t want to ruin that.”

No matter what Robin says, it’s no use. Steve wouldn’t believe her. Steve wouldn’t budge from his point of view. What happened to him was between the two of them. No one else needed to know.

••••

The next time Steve arrives at his house, the red hair that belonged to his younger sister appears behind the door before Steve can put on a fake smile, his heart easing just the slightest. “Hey,” greets max, the beginning of a smile appearing on her lips, before it vanishes in an instant at one look at Steve’s face. “What happened?”

“Nothing. Nothing.” Assures Steve, pulling on a smile. “I’m okay. Is Billy still here?”

Max doesn’t have time to respond before Billy appears beside her at the door, his own grin falling from his lips as he takes in the other males appearance. “Steve-“

“I’m gonna go.” Max cuts in, tucking her skateboard under her arm and disappearing off down the street in a flash.

“Billy-“ Steve tries, but Billy cuts him off, his hands cupping Steve’s cheeks with the utmost care in the world.

Billy inspects the bruise, hands almost shaking with the absolute purest anger flowing through his veins. And after a brief pause, Steve’s heart skips a nervous beat as Billy looks him dead in the eyes. His voice is quiet and tense, his anger barely restrained.

"Who did this to you?"

Steve shivers, anxiety crawling all over his skin. "I-it was no one-" he tries, but it doesn't work. Billy sees right through his lies and it only makes Billy’s eyes harden. “It doesn’t matter-“

Billy doesn’t let up. “Of course it fucking matters. You’re hurt. Now tell me who did this.”

Steve bites his lip, then, like a switch flicked inside of him, he began sobbing, cupping a hand over his mouth.

Billy frowns sympathetically, eyes now soft, and gathers Steve into his arms, rocking him side to side. "Steve, I’m sorry for raising my voice, are.. are you okay?” He whispers, combing his fingers through Steve’s hair, Steve gripping tightly at his tank top. "I'm going to deal with this. Your gonna be okay."

Steve whimpers, pressing his sore face further into Billy’s shoulder, holding onto his boyfriend for dear life, sobbing and sobbing, body shaking at the force of them. "They.. they came out of nowhere. No call or letter. Nothing." Steve stammers, voice hoarse. "And wouldn't.. wouldn't stop.. they wouldn't stop."

His sobs become harsher and Billy can only hold him through it, resting his chin atop his head. "Who?" Billy urges softly. "Who wouldn't stop?"

Steve can barely get the words out. "My.. my parents.."

Billy stiffens, hands coming to a stop in Steve’s hair. His parents did thus? Billy thinks to himself, eyes hardening once again. I'll kill those sons of bitches!

Almost as though he could read Billy’s mind, Steve breaks away from the hug, shaking his head. "You- you cant do anything." He tells him. "Please, you can't."

Billy goes to protest, but the look of fear in Steve’s eyes makes him stop. Billy sighs. "Okay. Okay I won't. I promise. Just.. just tell me what happened.”

Steve tells Billy everything. From coming home from work to find the front door unlocked and a random car in his driveway, to the constant nitpicking and godawful fight, all the while keeping on a strong facade as he sits across from Billy on his bed, hands shaking. They fidget with the blankets, eyes unwilling to lock with Billy’s, far too fearful to take in just how much anger and fury was flowing through his boyfriends veins.

For Steve knew how Billy could get. Yes, he had changed and was a much kinder individual now, that did not mean he did not still have his outbursts of anger. That did not mean he didn’t stop himself from keeping Steve safe in whatever way possible.

“I’m gonna kill them.” Steve hears Billy mutter into the silence, suddenly standing and pacing the room, hands raking through his hair in an attempt to calm himself down.

Finally looking up, Steve climbs to his shaking legs and reaches out to cup Billy’s cheeks, and only then does Billy stop his pacing. Only then does Billy refocus back on Steve and what Steve needed. “Hey.” Whispers Steve, resting their foreheads together and taking hold of Billy’s hands. “I’m okay.. I’m okay. I promise. There’s no need to go on a killing spree for a small bruise.”

Billy barely chuckles at the attempt at a joke, pressing a kiss against Steve’s temple and thumbing gently at the bruise over his eye. “You know id do anything for you-“

“I know.” Steve smiles, pulling away enough to have their eyes lock. “But I’m okay, really. I promise. I just.. want to spend time with you while I can.”

“Okay.” Nods Billy. “Okay.. what did you have in mind?”

Shifting nervously on his feet, Steve bows his head. “Hold me..?”

Steve can hear the smile on Billy’s lips as he chuckles, lifting the other male into his arms and making him squeak, tucking Steve against his chest as they lay down on the ever so soft bed, legs intertwined. “I’m just gonna put this out there. You come over with other bruise and I’m saying something.”

Steve sighs. “Okay.”

Thankfully, the next few times the couple hang out, Steve has no injuries. Nothing to make Billy go manic and do something he most definitely won’t regret. However, unbeknownst to Steve’s spinning mind, Billy has picked up on Steve’s change in mood.

He wasn’t eating. Just picking at whatever food was in front of him before pushing his plate away and stating that he was no longer hungry. He had lost weight. Too much to be healthy. Any ounce of muscle that was once on his body now gone and turned into skin and bone.

He was always shaking. Always on edge. Jumping at any loud noise, flinching at the raise of anyones voice. Every little thing was setting Steve off. And fuck, did it hurt to watch the one person Billy loves act in such a strange way. To be so scared, to be so close to tears and so so fucking skinny. Billy couldn’t handle it. He just couldn’t.

All he wanted to know was what was going on in Steve’s mind.

“Are you really going to eat that?” The voice of Steve’s mother says suddenly, now standing across from him, the bench the only thing between them. “Doesn’t seem like the best choice, does it?”

Freezing, Steve lowers the cookie from where it was pressed to his lips, dropping it back into the container and running his hand through his hair. “I’ll just.. have something else.”

His mother nods, but her eyes refused to leave his wandering figure. Steve could feel the anxiety flowing through his veins, could feel his heart raging in his ears. “Didnt you already eat something?” His mother speaks again, now directly in front of Steve and hiding his view of the fridge. “I don’t think you need to be eating again.”

“Oh.” Steve’s face falls, trying to ignore the growling of his stomach. “Right. Um. Okay..”

Steve had ran up to his room and sobbed himself to sleep that night.

“That shirt is unflattering, Steven. Go change.”

His favourite shirt.

“Honey, I think you might be getting a bit.. fat. I think I’m going to have to put a lock on the pantry.”

His mother had insisted that she was joking, but Steve couldn’t seem to shake the comment off. He basically stopped eating all together at home, and it was becoming a bad habit around those he loved most. He sometimes even flat out refused to eat in front of them. Including Billy.

None of his clothes fit like they used to. They were all baggy and loose and looked horrible.

Everything that was beginning to make that house feel like a home to him was gone. It was no longer a safe haven for him. It was a prison. And Steve needed to get out. He had to. He just had to.

••••••

Knocks sound erratically from the front door, Steve’s figure pacing in between each attempt of his fist banging on Billy’s front door. His car was parked messily on the street, his lights still on and key still in. Anxiety was running through his veins, was making his hands shake and the tears to keep rolling down his cheeks.

It was a last minute decision. But Steve knew it was the right one. He couldn’t take his parents shit anymore and here he was, covered in fresh blood and bruises, waiting to explain to the one person he loves that he was leaving.

The door opens suddenly, and Miss Mayfield appears, stopping in shock at the sight of the young male before her. “Steve?” She says, face falling. “Honey, are you okay?”

Wiping the tears from his cheeks erratically, Steve forces a smile, lips quivering. “Hi Miss Mayfield. Is uh.. is Billy home?”

She turns and calls out the other males name, before stepping into Steve’s space and inspecting the wounds with a horror-full expression on her face. “Steve.. sweetie, what happened?”

“Uh.. nothing.. nothing. I’m okay. I promise. I’m going to be okay. I just..” pausing, Steve runs a hand through his hair, letting out a shaky sigh. “I just really need to talk to Billy.”

“Okay. Okay.. I’ll.. I’ll go find him and bring him out to you.”

Miss Mayfield disappears in a flash into the house, and Steve can hear her voice calling out for Billy, voice getting louder and more frantic with each call. And Steve, Steve couldn’t stop pacing. Couldn’t stop moving. The amount of fear and anxiety in his gut was abnormal.

“Steve?” The familiar voice of Billy says suddenly, the door falling closed and his boyfriends figure enclosing into his space.

Steve looks over at him, unable to keep his sobs at bay at the expression on Billys face.

“Steve, are- are you okay? Oh my god, you- your bleeding!” Billy’s cupping his face then, trying to find where the bleeding had started, only for Steve to shake his head and pull his hands away.

“No.. im.. im not okay, but- I but I will be.” Whispers Steve, smiling all wobbly. “Im sorry.. im.. im leaving Hawkins. Tonight.”

Immediately, Billys face falls. And fuck did it make Steve’s heart ache. “What?”

Cupping his hands to Billys cheeks, Steve caresses the golden skin with shaky thumbs. “I can’t take my parents anymore. I can’t live like this, Bill. I need.. I need to get away.”

“No, please, please.” Billy says, shaking his head and trying to stop his own tears from falling. “You can’t be leaving.. you can’t.. I.. I need you here..”

“I know, I know.” Steve says, so fucking soft and so fucking broken. “But I have to go, Billy. I can’t live like this anymore. I need to be free.”

“Let me go with you.” Billy is begging now, holding Steve’s face in his hands, desperate to do anything to make Steve agree. “We can go together-“

But Steve cuts him off. Because Steve couldn’t let Billy leave his family. Not when things were finally going good for him here in Hawkins. Steve would never forgive himself if he allowed Billy to come with him. “I have to do this alone.. okay? You have a family here that loves you. I can’t take you away from that.”

Lower lip wobbling, fresh tears in his eyes, Billy lets his head from forward slightly, biting the inside of his cheek. “Please, Steve. Please. Stay.”

“Hey, Billy. I love you, but no fucking way.” Steve says, voice breaking with the utmost intensity.

No matter how badly it hurt him, Billy knew Steve had to go. He knew that Steve needed this. “I promise, I will come and find you.” Whispers Billy, pressing the softest of kisses to Steve’s forehead. “You- you have my word. I love you. So fucking much. And if.. If you need to do this, you should. I will come and find you.”

Steve smiles. “I know you will.”

Flicking their eyes between each other’s lips and gazes, they crash their lips together in a kiss, hands cupping each other’s faces so sweetly, yet so harshly, neither of them want to pull away. For that meant goodbye. And neither of them were fully ready to say goodbye.

“I love you.” Steve breathes between their lips, kissing Billy’s once, twice, three times more before pulling away. “I love you. I’ll call you as soon as I find a place to go to. I promise.”

“You better.” Billy says, finally allowing himself to cry, lips quivering and hands shaking against Steve’s face. “I love you, Steve.”

“We’ll be together soon.” Steve promises, kissing billys cheek. “I’ll see you soon, Bill. I love you.”

“I love you too. Please.. be safe.”

Steve nods. “I will. You have my word.”

And just like that, with one last hug and kiss, Steve was gone. He really, truly was gone. And in that moment, Billy cannot stop himself from dropping to his knees and sobbing into his hands, his entire body shaking with emotion.

---

This is the most terrifying thing Billy’s ever done.

Forget staring up at a wave twice your height, forget staring down demodogs with nothing but a crowbar in his hands. Forget his dad staring him down across the dinner table.

Billy turns the Camaro’s engine off and stares up at Steve’s house, every window in the house lit. Steve left the porch lights on for him. When he knocks, Steve’s voice calls out,

“It’s open!”

Billy follows the smell of food to the kitchen, where Steve is standing bare chested in front of the stove, wearing only basketball shorts and stirring something in a pan. Usually, Billy’s skin feels like there’s a colony of ants crawling under it, making him jittery and anxious and angry, but the sight of the expanse of Steve’s back, with his wide, relaxed shoulders and his creamy skin and his moles, it settles something deep inside Billy. It makes his anthill calm.

“Hey,” Billy settles against Steve’s back, feeling the warmth of his skin on his chest through his open shirt. His hair is damp and he smells like shampoo, fresh from the shower. Billy knows Steve likes to shower as soon as he gets home from the Mall, or else the smell of ice cream lingers in his nose. He slides his lips over Steve’s shoulder until he reaches his neck, where he kisses him, slow and wet, until Steve leans back against him with a groan.

“You’re distracting me,” Steve whines, and turns his head to kiss him back any way. “I’m gonna burn the sauce.”

Billy groans when their tongues meet, shifts them so he can lean Steve against the counter without risk of getting burned.

“You’re distracting me, princess,” Billy says against Steve’s cheek. “Come home to find you half naked making me dinner like that…” It slips out, just like that. Come home. Like the Harrington’s big house belongs to just them, to Billy and Steve and this thing between them that’s been growing for months.

Billy remembers what he needs to do tonight, what he needs to say to Steve, and it sits like a stone in his stomach.

“I’m making us dinner, shithead. And it’s gonna burn if you don’t let me go,” Steve’s arms tighten around Billy’s waist, fingers digging into his skin under his shirt.

Billy can only hold him back, stroke his thumb over Steve’s cheek. Kiss him again.

He lets Steve go with a slap to the ass that has him sputtering and laughing as he turns back to the stove. Billy grabs two beers from the fridge and cracks them open, setting one next to Steve.

Steve leans in to kiss him thank you. He’s too sweet.

The sauce turns out alright, and they eat their pasta by the pool outside, trading stories about their days at work. Steve likes hearing about the little kids Billy teaches at the pool, because he’s a sap, and Billy cracks up whenever Steve tells him about the way Robin’s always on his ass.

When Steve comes back with more beers for them, Billy can’t put it off anymore. He has to get it over with, even it feels like he’s stabbing himself in the chest.

“I gotta talk to you about something,” Billy says as Steve sits down facing him.

Steve’s face is open, trusting. “Yeah?”

“I, uh… I’m leaving Hawkins, at the end of the summer. I’m going back to California.”

Billy looks Steve in the eye as he says it. He’s no coward. So he watches Steve’s eyes dim and his lips go slack, curling around the soft “oh” that comes out of his mouth, dipping at the end in disappointment.

“I thought…” Steve starts, and Billy can’t let him finish, can’t let him say whatever it is he was about to. If Steve gets worked up this might turn into a fight.

“I can’t stay,” He forces out. Looks down at the beer can he hasn’t taken a sip of yet. “Not with- I can’t stay.”

“Billy-”

“But I thought maybe,” Billy stops, licks his lips. Takes a breath. This is scarier than the demodogs, the thought that Steve might say no, “I thought, maybe, you could come with me.”

His heart is pounding in his chest and the anthill has woken up, making Billy feel like he’s gotta get up and run to the Camaro and speed out of here, but he bugs his fingers into his knees and stares blankly ahead.

“You mean it?” There’s an edge to Steve’s voice that Billy hasn’t heard before. “You’re not saying that cause you think I’m gonna say no?”

Billy rears back, tries to make sense of what Steve just said and comes up empty.

“What the fuck, Steve,” He snaps. “Of course not.”

Whatever Steve hears in his voice seems to settle him, because his shoulders relax and he grins that big, goofy smile of his.

“Okay,” He laughs, giddy. “Okay, yeah.”

It takes Billy a second to get it, then he can only laugh with Steve.

“Yeah?”

Steve nods, and barely sets his beer aside before pouncing on Billy, laying him back on the patio floor and laying all his weight on Billy just to lay a searing kiss on his lips. The heat of Steve’s mouth is familiar and comforting, and Billy lets himself sink into the kiss like he’s done a hundred times before, lets it melt his spine and warm his chest like it always does. Let it call him home.

“I love you,” Steve says against his mouth, and Billy closes his eyes tight, nudges his nose against Steve’s.

“Love you,” Billy’s voice is barely a murmur, but Steve hears it anyway.

Billy’s heart is pounding for a different reason, now. There was no need to be scared at all. Nothing else feels scary, or like he can’t get through it, when Steve’s there. So they’re getting through this summer, together. And when it ends, they’re leaving Hawkins in the rearview mirror, together.

---

He doesn’t know why, but he’s laying down.

It’s the first thing he realizes. A stupid thing to notice, but just one minute ago, he was standing behind the counter at Family Video, and now he’s laying down.

His eyes are heavy, and it feels like it takes a huge amount of effort just to open them.

He’s in a fucking hospital.

He knows from the stupid white color of the stupid drop ceiling tiles. From the stupid annoying beeping of the stupid heart monitor. From the stupid scratchy gown he’s wearing instead of his sweater.

He heard a muttered curse next to him, and slowly lolled his head over to look.

Hopper was sitting next to his bed, his hat balanced on his knee, looking grumpily at the crossword printed on the back of The Hawkins Post. Steve wanted to laugh at the image, the chief of police swearing as he scribbled out something.

“How the fuck am I supposed to know that? Nobody knows what the fuck that is.”

“Blame Nancy,” Steve croaked. His head throbbed and he closed his eyes again. “She convinced them to add that. Said sales would go up.”

There was a rustling of paper.

“Smart girl,” Hopper said. He paused for a moment, and Steve felt like he needed someone to come and crowbar his eyes open or they would stay closed forever.

“You collapsed. Scared the shit out of your girlfriend, and everyone else at the video store.”

“Not my girlfriend,” Steve mumbled.

So that makes sense, why he was at work one second, and in a lousy bed at Hawkins General the next.

“You didn’t hit your head. Hargrove caught you before you went all the way down.”

Jesus, Billy’s reflexes really are something else. Steve’s gonna need to thank him for that. The last fucking thing he needs is another concussion. Maybe, to show his gratitude, he’ll suck Billy’s-

“I’m here because we need to talk about what the doctors found in your system.”

Steve’s mind went blank, and his eyes flew open.

Hopper was looking at him, his face an unfamiliar mix of sad, and angry, and fucking, disappointed.

Steve felt like he could vomit.

“They ran your blood. Routine E.R. shit, I’m told. But they found some, some substances that shouldn’t be there.”

Steve swallowed down the lump in his throat.

He knew the guilt was written all over his face.

“How long?”

“Since the summer.” He couldn’t look at Hop in the face. Not while he admitted this shit.

He was fucking stupid to think he wouldn’t be caught.

It’s a miracle Robin hasn’t walked in on him doing bumps in the bathroom at work, or Billy hasn’t found his stash tucked between the mattress and the box spring.

Hopper sighed.

“I know we all went through a lot last summer. With your friend getting trapped in the Upside Down, and you getting captured-”

“Tortured. I got tortured.”

Hopper sighed again.

“Getting coked up isn’t going to help anything.”

“What is this? Fucking Family Ties?”

He felt Hopper’s glare more than he actually saw it.

“It’s stupid-”

“You just don’t get it! Okay?” He really didn’t mean to yell, his head just fucking hurts and he’s so fucking stupid.

“Oh yeah,” Hopper snarked. “I fucking forgot. You’re the only person in the goddamn world that’s ever dealt with fucking drug addiction. So sorry.”

“I’m not addicted!” Lie.

“I don’t fucking believe you.”

Steve glared at Hopper.

“So, what? You’re here to arrest me?”

“No. I’m here to talk some fucking sense into you.” He shifted in his chair, the newspaper slid off his lap and fell on the floor. “You’re around those kids all the time. You fucking drive them around. You have been endangering their lives for months. And why? Because you can’t handle the trauma? We all have trauma. You think your friend Hargrove is totally fine after being stuck in that place? After realizing some fucked up doppelgänger was killing people? You think your girlfriend is totally fine after being tortured by the Russians too?”

“I don’t do it when I have to drive the kids, Hop I swear.” That, was the truth. “Okay, the other stuff, I get your point, but I need you to know, I wouldn’t hurt the kids like that, I-” the heart monitor was speeding up, getting louder in Steve’s panic. “You have to believe me, I’ve never driven them high.”

“Okay, okay. I believe you.” Hopper sighed again. “Just, why?”

Steve gulped.

“The Russians, they drugged us. They said it would make us tell them the truth. And I don’t know what it was, but fuck. It felt good. I couldn’t feel the pain, and I wasn’t scared, and I just. I didn’t know how to stop being scared.”

It was embarrassing.

Admitting that he’s been scared shitless ever since that first demogorgon dropped through the Byers’ ceiling.

Admitting he’s been doing lines of coke to keep himself from spiraling into inconsolable panic.

“I did some at a party, and it was the closest I felt to that feeling.”

Not technically true. He and Billy did some together last August, and it was like the fearlessness washed over Steve in warm waves.

But he can’t throw Billy under the bus like that.

And if Billy ever found out, that one night of drug experimentation between lovers turned into a full-on addiction, he’d never forgive himself.

There was a pause.

“Have you been snorting or shooting?”

“Snorting.”

“Okay,” Hopper stood up, stretching his arms above his head and placing his hat back on. “I’m going to tell your friends what’s going on. Not the kids, just Hargrove and Buckley. Joyce, too. Then, when you get out of here, you and I are going to clean out any stashes you’ve got. And we’re all going to be watching you like a fucking hawk.”

“Wait,” Steve croaked, his heart rate jumping up again, the beeping speeding up. “Don’t tell Billy.” Hopper shot Steve a look that said really? “Let me tell him. He needs to hear it from me.”

Hopper paused, on hand on the doorknob.

“Did he get you hooked? Is he on it too?”

“No! Nothing like that. Please? He’ll be upset unless I tell him.”

Hopper gave him a look that was a little too searching to be comfortable.

“Okay. Okay, kid. I’ll send him in. But he’ll know what’s going on one way or another. Don’t make me tell him that you’ve lied. Don’t think he’d appreciate it.”

He left the room without another word, leaving Steve to stew in his shame.

He’s such an idiot.

Why did he ever think he could get away with this and not one person would notice?

Even if they didn’t know he was regularly doing cocaine, Billy and Robin already knew something was up. They kept asking him if he was okay, coming over for impromptu sleepover parties. It was nice, he loves them both, but it was only a matter of time before the penny dropped.

It’s just embarrassing. That a routine blood test exposed the amount of uppers in his system. Exposed how little he’s dealing.

He rolled over, waiting for Billy to come into the room and blame himself for Steve’s stupidity. He didn’t want that.

Billy didn’t have a drug problem. He thought it’d be fun for them to get a little high and do stuff together. And it was! It was so fun, and they’d talked about doing it again.

Steve can kiss that idea goodbye.

He wouldn’t be surprised if Billy started following him into the bathroom to make sure he wasn’t doing anything he shouldn’t be.

It’s sweet, that his boyfriend cares so much about him that he would, hypothetically at least, do that.

But Billy’s got enough on his plate, and if Steve knows anything about him, it’s that he blames himself for shit just as much as Steve does.

He focused on the steady beeping of the heart monitor. Still elevated, his nerves for the coming conversation getting the best of him.

His head was pounding in a way that said it was time for his next fix.

He squeezed his eyes closed, willing away the need thrumming under his skin.

“So, you finally gonna tell me why you’ve been actin’ all squirrelly lately?”

---

pov: you’re sitting in bed and your boyfriend attacks you with an eyeliner pencil

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Happy Holidays from me to you, lovely reader 🤍☃️

~

Billy says a tense, “Thanks, pops,” as Neil hands him a new pack of Marlboros on Christmas morning. He knows it’s only because of Susan and Max that he’s getting anything at all, but he still says his thanks through gritted teeth because manners have been beaten into him.

Susan gifts him a pair of wooly socks, a much needed staple for the frigid weather outside, and he thanks her quietly as he thumbs the fabric - and repeats it louder when Neil tells him to speak up.

Max doesn’t give him her present until after breakfast, which is a Black Sabbath tape to replace the one he’d accidentally ruined by pulling it out of his stereo too fast. He thanks her by ruffling her hair with a smirk, which makes her growl, “Billy!” as she smoothes her hair down. He leaves the newest issue of Wonder Woman on her bedside table when she’s busy with her mom.

The gifts are fine. The ‘quality family time’ makes him want to crawl out of his skin, though. So, once the afternoon rolls around, Billy’s gone.

His favourite gift out of them all is when Steve opens the front door of his big house and his pretty boy’s irritated expression melts away to glittering eyes and a warm, excited smile.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” Billy murmurs with a grin, wishing to give his boy a kiss but his parents are home for once, so it’ll have to wait. Steve says nothing and pulls him into the house by the wrist.

He gives his polite greeting and a ‘Merry Christmas’ to the Harringtons as he steps inside, shedding his jacket and scarf at the door before Steve’s taking him upstairs, away from his busy parents.

Billy glances over his shoulder once they’re in Steve’s bedroom before pulling his boyfriend in by the waist, their lips meeting in a slow, deep kiss. It soothes Billy’s nerves better than anything.

“So,” Steve murmurs as he pulls away just far enough that Billy can see his smile, “Did you make the ‘nice’ list after all?”

“Fuck no,” Billy chuckles softly, his shoulders no longer up by his ears as Steve rubs up and down his biceps.

“I figured,” the brunette grins, pulling away from Billy’s embrace to grab a wrapped box by his bedside table, “Which is why I got you this.” He hums, looking proud of himself.

The wrapping paper is god awful and gaudy, but Billy opens it quietly and pulls the top of the box off to look inside.

It’s a new zippo lighter. Silver, with an engraved ‘B’ at the bottom left corner. Steve mumbles for him to look at the back, so he pulls it out and flips it over, reads the engraving there: ‘Yours, PB’.

Billy snorts softly, looking up at his boyfriend in amusement as he says, “Yours, Peanut Butter?”

Steve looks confused for half a second, brows furrowing, until he gets it and then he’s groaning and running a hand through his thick hair, closing his eyes as he tilts his head back towards the ceiling. After a moment, he mutters, “It stands for ‘pretty boy’.”

Billy starts laughing again, unable to help it, because Steve is so fucking cute and tragic and Billy loves every ounce of him. “C’mere,” he mutters with a grin, putting the zippo back into the box as Steve steps close. Wrapping his free arm around his boyfriend, Billy gives his lips a gentle peck, murmuring playfully, “Thank you, peanut butter, I love it.” He gives Steve another kiss, just for good measure, and a third because Steve’s pouting now and he’s too cute when he does that.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve finally cracks a smile, chuckling softly with a shake of his head, “Fuckin’ peanut butter.”

“Here,” Billy smiles as he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out an envelope, handing it to Steve quietly.

It’s a small collection of polaroid pictures of them, taken by Chrissy during the summer at various locations. The quarry, parties, Steve’s pool, the mall, random parking lots. Billy’s favourite is in there: Steve’s hand on the gear shift of the Camaro, Billy’s hand on top and holding it as he drives. It’s a simple picture but the sun is hitting it just right and you can’t tell it’s them, it’s like a little secret. Chrissy had squished herself into the backseat just to get the picture and Billy’s grateful she did.

Steve’s expression is soft as he looks them over, smiling to himself as he recognizes the areas and recalls the day. There’s also a handwritten ‘IOU a BJ’ card at the bottom of the stack that Steve holds up, eyebrows lifted as he playfully asks, “Is this a one-time use?”

“No,” Billy smirks, “But I’ll be surprised if you manage to not lose it after one use.”

“Asshole,” Steve chuckles, slipping the pictures back into the envelope after taking another look. He leans in and Billy meets him halfway for another kiss, always eager for it.

Steve mumbles, “Thanks baby,” against his lips, pulling away with a warm smile, “I’m gonna put them with the rest,” he says as he pulls away to grab the shoebox under his bed, which is filled with other Billy-related items.

Steve’s mom, decked out in her nicest red dress, comes up the stairs and knocks on the door, giving the two boys a smile as Steve shoves the box under his bed again and stands, breathing, “Yeah?”

“The catering company will be here soon - are you staying for dinner, Billy?” She asks, flicking her dark eyes between them.

Christ. Of course the Harringtons didn’t cook for Christmas - they hired other people to.

Billy shakes his head slowly, “I’d hate to impose—”

“—Nonsense! We’re having multiple guests over, and I’m sure Steve will appreciate having company his own age,” she smiles, her mind already made up.

“Uh - in that case, sure,” he says with a tight smile and a nod, “Thanks, Mrs. H.”

She gives him another smile before looking to Steve, “Make sure you give Billy a nice shirt to wear tonight, okay?”

“Yeah, mom, I know.”

“Great, be down in half an hour,” she says with a nod and turns, heading back downstairs to probably sort out the rest of the evening.

“Fuck, I’ll never get over how stupidly rich you are,” Billy huffs in wry amusement, looking over at his boyfriend again, “And the fuck’s wrong with my shirt?”

Steve shrugs with a smile, “Nothing, in my opinion. My mom’s just…like that. Appearances mean a lot. Gotta wear your sunday best to the Harrington Christmas dinner, babe.”

“Christ - remind me to just kidnap you next year and we’ll go to a McDonald’s.”

Another soft smile appears on Steve’s face and he nods, wrapping his arm around Billy’s middle, kissing him quick and gentle as he mutters, “I’m holding you to that.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m gonna do it.”

“Mm. Love you.”

“Love you, too, peanut butter.”

Steve smacks his ass for that and Billy laughs, sitting down on the bed while his boyfriend goes to pick out a shirt for him.

---

The main characters in the last show or movie you watched now have to deep-clean your house for you. How does that go?

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the billy fandom is like that one group of friends you always see sitting together at lunch and they seem pretty normal and cool but when you approach them, you hear someone sobbing over billy's past and you see someone else showing the whole group a picture of billy hargrove in the world's tiniest shorts, and there's someone screaming "billy has all the boyfriends ever!" and there's music but you can't tell where it's coming from and you're like "what the fuck" but then you look at the popular table and it's in flames and people are screaming at each other over ships so you just. sit with the billy fandom because they're so chill (and have amazing music taste).

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