Chapter Text
Some days were easier than others for Steve Harrington. He still thought of Nancy, even dreamed of her and all the things they could’ve had together, but she was long gone. His pining was no longer constant. It came to him in moments of solitude and silence when he was left to his own devices.
Up until the night he had seen Billy shirtless at Tina’s Halloween party wearing only a leather jacket, he had known himself to be perfectly straight. He had planned his life ahead with Nancy. In his mind he had seen the white picket fence and the RV on the driveway and six kids running around, Nancy wearing a red polka dot dress and he himself bringing in the money. He had imagined them happy.
Nancy had crushed those dreams for him. She had moved on. He had been left grieving his failed relationship alone, not even fully aware of what had happened that had made Nancy fall out of love. He was so confused.
His future was fuzzy. Where once he had been able to see clearly the trajectory of his life there was now chaos and uncertainty. What was most unsettling of it all was that he found himself finding winding roads inside of his head that somehow always made their way to Billy.
He hadn’t been able to form a neutral opinion of him. Billy had been in his face since day one, challenging his spot as the King of Hawkins High. Steve knew that his reign as the king was already coming to its natural end just because it was his last year of high school (and he had done some growing up as well) but Billy seemed hellbent on accelerating that fall from power by beating all of his party records and attempting to take his place on the school basketball team. He knew that. Billy was very vocal about it. He challenged Steve wherever he could and got on his every nerve while doing so with the intention of making him lose his cool. Steve never did. Not because he was somehow ‘above’ Billy or taking the high road but there was definitely a reason why he maintained his silence: Billy was very, very hot.
Each time he made the notion Billy was always in his face. The closer he was the stronger it came to him. The more often it happened the clearer it became that whether he wanted or not he actually liked Billy Hargrove. A lot. On the days when Billy purposefully aggravated him he rarely thought of Nancy. His mind was spinning with testosterone pumped aggression that smelled of strong aftershave, cigarettes and gasoline.
The worst part about his newly found affection towards Billy wasn’t the realization that his sexuality wasn’t quite what he had thought it to be but the fact that it was directed towards someone who would absolutely not like him in return. There was no chance that Billy might be gay. He had a different girl sitting on the passenger seat of his Camaro each week. It was abundantly clear that he liked the ladies and the ladies liked him.
All of these thoughts crossed his mind when he lay in his bed late at night staring at the ceiling. They were like a giant ball of string that had several ends coming out of it and when he tried to pull on one it only got more tangled up. He had hoped to clear his head that Friday night by staying home alone and foregoing the party on the other side of town. He had attended a few of those high school parties after Tina’s bash but they only reminded him of Nancy and the way she had said: Bullshit .
Sleep avoided him. His parents wouldn’t come home until Sunday evening. He was alone whether it was a good thing or a bad thing. Somehow it was both. He wanted to be by himself to figure out what to do about Billy (or more like what he wanted to do about his feelings towards him since it was futile trying to pursue him) but he also wanted to be with someone so he wouldn’t have to think about his failed romance with Nancy and the doomed emotions he was cultivating for someone who would never return them.
What Steve didn’t know was that Billy was not at the house party. He had been there but when he had heard that ‘The King’ wasn’t there he had gotten into his car and driven away without a word. The only reason he had attended the party was to challenge the king and claim his place as the supreme ruler of Hawkins High. It was an insult that Steve hadn’t attended the party. Wasn’t that a part of what it was to be ‘The King?’
Billy disliked Steve. He pushed down on the gas pedal with his right foot as he thought of his stupid face. He wasn’t at all like a king should be. He had his hair high as heck flopping on his face, defying the laws of gravity and made all the girls swoon with his big brown eyes that made him look like he was all innocent when in fact he was not. He was a douche bag. Everyone in an authority role was a douche bag, Billy knew that. His goal was to knock them off their high horses.
What he also disliked about Steve was that the doe eyes worked on him as well. When he had made Steve fall over in gym class he had looked so hurt that he had needed to come back and help him on his feet. What kind of a king was that? Kings didn’t need to be lifted up. They were strong enough to stand on their feet when someone came up to bump into them. Harrington was nothing but a fraud, a good-looking fraud, but he needed to be dethroned.
Billy knew Steve was alone at home. That much he had paid attention when some girls had talked about ‘The King’ at the party. A real king would have thrown the party if their parents were out of town. Steve had no right to call himself ‘the king.’ Billy was going to make sure his reign of debility was over. He had the perfect plan for that. He’d make sure Steve got into trouble and got grounded by his parents so that he wouldn’t be able to attend any of the social duties that ‘The King’ had. Therefore there would be a power vacuum that only he himself could fill. It was time for King William’s reign. All hail Billy the Party King.
He turned left to the culdesac where Steve’s parents house was located. He had got the address from the yellow pages at a phone booth. It had been super easy because his father was a local business owner. It was like tracking down a celebrity.
Billy licked his lips as if he was a lion about to pounce on a gazelle as the headlights of his car illuminated the gray house with a drive-in garage. Everything was lush green, or would have been had it not been the middle of the night when everything was just shades of silver. Billy parked his car on the driveway and looked out through the passenger side window. He didn’t know which of the dozens of windows belonged to Steve.
There was a walkway from the driveway to the front door and it was just wide enough for a car to drive on. Billy started the Camaro once again and with a few easy turns of the wheel he had parked his car at the front door of the house. If he wanted the neighbors to think it was Steve making all the ruckus he was in the perfect spot. He couldn’t help the self-satisfied grin that spread on his face as he lowered all of the windows of the dark blue Camaro and turned the radio all the way up.
Thank God I’m Not You began on the radio. What a perfect choice, Billy thought to himself. It was a shame he couldn’t turn the volume to 11. Nevertheless, he was incredibly happy with his plan. He got out of his car and lit a cigarette while waiting for shit to hit the fan. Soon the whole neighborhood would be up and blaming Steve for having a party and he’d get in major trouble with his parents. Served him right.
While the music kept blasting he had a moment to admire the house. It was huge, made with gray bricks and extended to both sides with three garages and a pool on the other side. Of course it had to be a pool. Billy rolled his eyes. Stupid rich people always had a pool. He would be money that none of them ever even took a dip in it while half the town was forced to swim at the community pool that was roughly the same size.
Whenever he was annoyed he sucked on his cigarettes harder than usual. He had already made his way to the second one when suddenly there was a light in the second storey window by the pool end of the house. That had to be Steve’s room, Billy thought to himself. Now he knew which window he could egg if he ever felt like causing more trouble for ‘The King.’ What a humiliation that would be! He was almost disappointed he hadn’t thought of that earlier. Having his house egged would have dethroned Steve faster than he could blink.
There was a silhouette at the window. Against the yellow lit room he could make out the outline of the stupid hair and the lean frame but not much else. He wondered if Lacoste made pajamas. It made him snigger. The song on the radio changed. At the same time one of the two window panes in the lit room opened outward.
Billy could not make out any of the words. He could hear Steve’s voice, oh, it was so annoying in itself, but not what he was saying. He didn’t need to. He already knew what it was about and the waving hands made it clear that Steve was upset. He looked around. There was a lit up window in one of the neighbors’ houses. His plan was working.
The next phase of his plan was to beat Steve up. Just a little. His parents would definitely ground him for partying and fighting and he would lose all respect at school. Having bruises or cuts made you automatically uncool. Billy had learned that young. It was why he made sure he never had one curl out of place. Besides, Neil no longer put his hands on him like he had used to.
There was also a second reason why Steve needed to be beat up. Billy disliked him. He was convinced that it was annoyance that made him pick up on everything that Steve did. It was his spot as the king of high school that made him the focal point of his life. The doe eyes that he used to charm girls with and the bouncy large curl that shadows his forehead were attractive, he gave him that, and the Lacoste shirts and Levis jeans were working for him, but he was still rotten. He pretended to be a nice guy and everyone liked him. No jock ever was that nice. Billy wanted to put his hands on him just so he could prove that Steve was not what he wanted people to think he was. He wasn’t a nice guy. He was a douchebag.
He also recognized the familiar thoughts that had gotten him his last beating from Neil. He assured himself, there was no attraction to Steve. All he wanted was to snatch his place as the king of high school.
The third song had just started when the front door opened and Steve stepped outside leaving the door open behind him. Billy could see artwork on the walls inside and a grand staircase. Douchey.
Steve was angry. He was wearing jeans shorts and a t-shirt, which he had probably put on in a hurry because it was on backwards. Billy sniggered. It seemed to annoy Steve even further.
“Turn it off!” Steve shouted, his voice finally carrying over the sick two-guitar solo that made the song legendary.
As much as he found Billy attractive Billy could be a real shithead at times. Who comes to the yards of other people in the middle of the night blasting music from their car? He repeated his demand while gesturing frustratedly with both hands. There were lit up windows in nearby houses and shadowy figures parting the curtains. Soon someone would call the police and he needed to prevent that.
Billy was leaning against his car with a lit cigarette in his hand and gestured with the same hand made that he couldn’t hear him over the music. It was infuriating. As hot as he was with a head full of dirty blond curls and bright blue eyes and that sexy California tan he was still an absolute asshole. He acted as if he owned the entire world and did what he wanted with it.
Steve got closer and almost put his hand on the beam of the car. He had thought of just reaching in to turn the key in the ignition but the way Billy had glanced at his hand had changed his mind. He wanted to try taking the high road, even with Billy.
“Turn it off!” He ordered.
“I can’t hear you,” Billy returned loud enough for his words to carry over the music.
Steve glanced into the car. He could almost see the keys in the ignition but in order to read them he would have to remove Billy who was leaning against the driver’s door. That would mean a physical altercation. It seemed like that was what Billy was looking for. He wanted to avoid it but if it came down to it he would throw Billy out of the way.
“Turn it off!” Steve repeated with more authority. “It’s past midnight! Someone’s going to call the cops!”
His cheeks were glowing red with anger and annoyance as he tried to stare down Billy. There were so many lit up windows that he knew that the police were probably on their way already. His parents would be so mad at him for causing trouble when they had specifically told him not to bring anyone over for the weekend.
“I don’t give a shit,” Billy said with a self-satisfied smug as he leaned further back like someone who had done well and was gazing at the fruits of his hard labor.
Steve was still good-looking even when he was angry. The shirt that was on backwards made him almost likable. His cheeks were red as if someone had just kissed him real good. Billy couldn’t help but look at the lips and lick his own.
Steve was tired of waiting. There was no negotiating with Billy.
“Fine, I’ll do it myself,” he said and reached past Billy into the car. He knew it wasn’t a good idea but he wouldn’t push Billy or start a fight.
His hand had barely entered the car when Billy grabbed his wrist. The tone of his voice changed from ‘wanting to piss you off’ to ‘do not piss me off.’
“I’m listening to it,” he said, holding Steve’s wrist with his right hand. In his gaze was a challenge. He wanted Steve to tear away from his grasp and try again. It would give him a reason to start the fight.
To his surprise Steve didn’t pull away from him. Instead he came closer. With juts inches between their faces he urged:
“Let go.”
His voice was soft and not commanding at all. Something shifted inside of Billy. He could feel it, a somersault in his chest, as if his entire inner organs had decided to switch places with one another. Just because Steve had asked nicely? Fuck that.
“Don’t fucking touch my car,” he threatened but released his grasp. Steve did not back off.
“Turn it off,” he repeated for the umpteenth time.
He got even closer. He made no worldly threats because his threat was physical. He wasn’t going to budge until Billy turned the music off. However, while he thought that it was intimidating that he was so close to Billy, the effect of his proximity was actually something very different.
He was so close that Billy could smell the Colgate in his breath. He was so close that Billy could see the hues of different browns in his eyes. He was so close that if Billy had bucked his hips forward he could have felt his dick through his pants against his own.
It was the final thought that shattered Billy’s intention of fighting Steve. His breath hitched in horror. Why was he thinking those kinds of thoughts? He had made a promise to himself never to look at a guy and think things like that after the last beating he had received from Neil.
He broke eye contact. Cold sweat pearled on his forehead. He wasn’t finding Steve hot, he wasn’t! He. was. NOT. gay. Stupid fucking Harrington!
Although turmoil on the inside it never showed on the outside. He pushed Steve away. Steve staggered backwards. Billy reached into the car and killed the engine.
“Geez, I didn’t think you were that sensitive Harrington,” he mocked. His hands were shaking but he hid it by twirling the keys around his index finger. If his hands were in motion Steve couldn’t clock him for a weakness.
“Alright, Hargrove, it’s time to go,” Steve said. His hands found their place on his hips and he wanted to scold Billy but he bit his tongue.
“Why?” Billy asked. He knew full well why he needed to leave but he would never do it if someone told him to do so.
“Look around,” Steve said and gestured at the nearby houses. All of them had lit windows by this point. “Someone probably already called the cops. They’ll be here any minute now.”
Billy knew he was in trouble. Things were still milling around inside of him and he was feeling out of place once again. His eyes were lying to him, telling Steve was handsome. Someone in his brain was telling him to kiss Steve, another voice wanted him to punch him, all just to piss him off, and he was having a hard time silencing all disruptive voices that kept on multiplying.
Steve waited for an answer. Billy was smoking again. The cherry glowed bright red as he took a drag. It was infuriating that he refused to leave after causing so much trouble. Steve hated the fact that he still thought that Billy was hot wearing worn jeans and a red shirt that was almost completely unbuttoned. It revealed just enough of his beautiful swimmer’s physique that Steve couldn’t help but steal glances of them and store them in the permanent memory section of his brain. The medallion glistening on his chest in the moonlight also made it there.
“Fine,” he said eventually when Billy was completely ignoring him by not even looking at him anymore. “Have fun standing in the driveway all night, dipshit.”
It brought Billy back as if he had been shot in the chest.
“Who are you calling dipshit, asshole?” He challenged, taking one step towards Steve. It was just so much easier to be on the offense than have an honest conversation.
“You kept blasting metal on my driveway for an hour and you’re calling me an asshole?” Steve asked, both feet firmly planted on the ground as he stared at Billy.
The audacity of the guy was off the roof. He wanted to be beat up, Steve thought to himself. He wasn’t going to engage. If Billy was trying to start a fight it was only because he thought he was going to win and Steve wasn’t looking to get into any more trouble.
Billy’s lips parted and he laughed. His teeth were so white they were almost shiny in the moonlight. Shiny and sharp. He laughed because he was trying to diffuse the situation without needing to apologize for his bad behavior. He wasn’t backing off because he was scared of a fight, not at all. He was finding the whole thing super funny because Steve was acting like a pussy.
”Don’t get your panties in a twist, pretty boy,” he mocked as he dropped the cigarette butt on the walkway and stepped on it.
“I didn’t take you for a Sensitive Sally,” he added as he opened the driver’s door and leaned on it while waiting for Steve’s reaction to his insults.
None came. Steve was looking at him with tired big eyes, head tilted slightly to the side, t-shirt on backwards. Billy knew that he was definitely the cooler one of the two. Steve looked like a dork. A tired dork. Dorky dork dork. He grinned. The bad thoughts were gone.
“Go home, Hargrove,” Steve exhaled. “I’m gonna go to bed.”
He was tired. Tired of being kept up, tired of fighting, tired of having Billy in his face. No amount of sex appeal was worth such shitty behavior. He turned around and went inside without ever looking back. The safety lock clicked behind him.
Billy chewed on his lower lip. It had not gone the way he had planned. He had wanted to dethrone the king but had actually fallen for his charms himself. No, that wasn’t true. He had experienced a moment of weakness. He had quit all that gay stuff. He had promised himself not to fall for a guy ever again.
He spat at his own feet. The boots he had shined to perfection earlier suddenly felt like they were too much. Who had he dressed up to impress? Had he gone to the party only to find out how to get into touch with Steve? He had set himself up for failure?
He got into the Camaro and turned the key in the ignition. She roared into life and he turned the radio off. Her soft idle rumble sounded like soothing words to his ears. Let’s go to California, she seemed to say. Let’s go, Billy, let’s go. Never come back. Never.
He pulled out from the walkway and looked up at the window he knew belonged to Steve. The stupid hair was there again. Was Steve watching him leave to make sure he was gone? He would probably call the cops himself if Billy decided to stay.
Billy scoffed. What a dick. He turned the radio on to get away from his own thoughts and flipped the bird at Steve before revving off down the road. Fuck that guy, he thought to himself. He didn’t really even like him that much. He had a stupid head of luscious hair and big beautiful deer in headlights eyes. He was laughable in the way he stood with his hands on his hips like some mom scolding a child. He was stupid.
Billy didn’t drive home. His head was full of thoughts. He needed time to think.
He took a turn away from the suburbs and drove until he was in the middle of the forest. Tall pine trees surrounded him on both sides of the asphalted road. No one drove much on this stretch of road because it led into the Shadowbrook Aerodrome which had been abandoned since the mid seventies. Billy sometimes drove there to have a few beers by himself when he didn’t feel like going home to Neil and mom and Max.
A part of him feared that just because he had thought a gay thought of Steve it was somehow visible on his skin as if it was tattooed on his forehead. He was scared that Neil would know the moment he walked in through the door. It could mean a fight he couldn’t win. A beating. He never fought back because of mom and Max. He knew if he did he wouldn’t stop pummeling until it would kill Neil.
He killed the engine and suddenly it was perfectly quiet. He was alone. He leaned forwards and rested his head against the steering wheel. Like burning hot coals tears streamed down his face and fell into his lap. Where they landed on his light blue jeans the color turned darker.
He couldn’t help the thoughts. All he could think of was Steve with his hands on his hips and how cute he had looked when he was tired and had put his shirt on backwards in a rush. His skin was so smooth it was almost milky, like it was made of some rare cow’s milk. Billy hated himself for thinking that. He was attracted to cows now? What a fucking deviant! No one should ever like him. He deserved all the bad things that happened to him.
But hope was difficult to kill. Even with all the other voices berating him, chastising him and scolding him in the most negative way possible, its voice still rang through all of their bellowing. It said: Tomorrow things will be different. Tomorrow I’ll make him my friend.
He slammed his fist against the steering wheel. It withheld the power of his strike but his hand ached at the point of impact. Pain made it easier to bear his own ugliness. He needed to stay away from Steve! Why was he thinking about going to see him tomorrow? He slammed his fist against the wheel again. Pain shot through his arm.
“Fuck!” He screamed as he pummeled the steering wheel with pure rage. “Fuck you, Harrington!”
Once the anger subsided the tears came again. He cried, lonely and alone. What he didn’t know was that Steve was tossing and turning in his bed, restless, thinking of his visitor. And the cops? No one called them. The neighbors figured it was a lovers’ spat.