Chapter Text
Billy hates this feeling. Like he's walking on eggshells, standing on top of a fuckin ticking time bomb, just waiting for it to go off. Everything has been quiet. Too quiet. He at least expected some sort of fallback by now. Fall back from the whole royal fuck up he had found himself in.
It had already been 2 weeks. Two goddamn weeks since he had smashed pretty fuckin King Steve's stupid fuckin teeth in. Since Billy had seen red like he had never seen it before. Lost all reason like he never had, given into the noise inside his head. He still gets a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, when he thinks about the way his fist connected with king Steve's face, over and over, the crunch of cartilage underneath his knuckles. Harrington was most likely suffering from a concussion after that throwdown. Damn, Billy had probably broken the shits nose.
He had broken Steve's fuckin nose.
Billys hands were shaking as he brought his lighter up to the unlit cigarette dangling between his parted lips. After he lit it, he pulled in a long drag, closing his eyes, leaning against the door of his beat up Camaro, letting the smoke fill his lungs good before he blew it out. His hands were still shaking.
Dammit.
There was snow blanketing everything right now, and he hated it, because it muffled the sound, made everything even more quiet than it already was in this little hick town he was holed up in. Billy needed it to be loud, so fuckin loud he couldn't hear the cacophony inside his own damn head. He needed to drown out these feelings that he didn't understand.
It had been fine, everything had been fine. He had been handling moving here, making a place for himself. Forcing himself into the swing of things. Yeah, that involved a lot of partying, fucking bitches, and getting high off his ass. Blasting music from his camaro as he sped down these damn empty back roads. He needed the noise like he needed oxygen to breathe. Needed to be wild, so he could contain the anger broiling inside, so it wouldn't rip out of his skin. Out of control.
Everyone had to know Billy Hargrove didn't take shit from anyone. Except…
Except then his head filled with the unwanted memory of hands slamming him roughly into the shelves, and that hard, mocking voice, demanding respect. Billy didn't want to admit to how that made him feel. Who had that even been? That scared little shit of a teenager, crying like a damn pansy, saying yes sir like a dog with a tail between its legs. That wasn't him. That wasn't him.
The real problem here was the damn quiet since the incident. Since Max had jammed a fuckin needle in his neck, and the world had spun on its axis, and a nail filled bat had almost taken off his balls. Thinking about it still made him angry, but at the same time he couldn't help the unbidden thought, Good for her. Good for Max for finally fuckin putting him in his place. God he had been awful to her. But he couldn't stop. He couldn't stop.
Neil….. Neil hadn't done anything since then. It had been two whole weeks of just…. Radio silence. Billy hadn't done what Neil wanted. He hadn't brought Max home, his car was fucked up, but Neil hadn't done anything.
Yet.
Billy growled, dropping the cigarette into the snow covered school parking lot, crunching it roughly under his boot heel. He stuffed his hands(the knuckles were still faintly yellow from bruising)into his coat pockets, hunching in his shoulders against the Winter air.
It was goddamn freezing in Hawkins.
And Billy was standing on a fuckin time bomb.
***
Steve's head hurt. Actually, to be fair, his whole damn face hurt. As he examined the aforementioned body part in the bathroom mirror, he couldn't help but grimace. Sure, the bruising had improved a lot in the last two weeks, but there was a sickly yellow around his eyes, and his nose was still swollen. At least it hadn't healed crooked.
Sighing, Steve opened up the medicine cabinet, rummaging around for the bottle of pain pills. As he popped the lid open, he rattled the bottle dismally, peering inside. The pills were almost gone. They had practically been his lifeline these last couple of weeks, the pain had been a real bitch.
He swallowed a couple down with a handful of tap water, then stumbled out of the bathroom, landing face first on his bed. Which hurt. Of course. Steve winced.
Things hadn't been… too great. As of late. Sure, he'd maybe sort of helped save the town of Hawkins from the horror of the Upside Down, but he didn't exactly feel it. He had royally fucked up his one damn job, protecting those kids from… Well, it had felt like pretty much everything that night. Demogorgorns. Billy Hargrove. The Upside Down. those kids had been his responsibility. Where did that get him, except for beaten to a pulp and knocked out. Saved by the same kids he was supposed to be saving. Yeah.
“You're a regular goddamn hero Steve Harrington.” He muttered sarcastically.
Recently, even when he tried his best, he kept replaying that horrible conversation. The one that had been the beginning of the end between him and Nancy. Wasted, at that damn party, Nancy and her ruined white dress. Steve couldn't stop hearing the words over and over again.
Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit.
Steve had been a fool. Foolishly in love with someone who could never truly be in love with him. He thought he had come to terms with it. Tried not to be bitter when he saw Jonathan and Nancy together. They were good for each other. Nancy deserved that. She deserved to be with someone she really loved. But Steve couldn't help it sometimes. He could feel his old self, the asshole he had been before Nancy, before the kids, before everything, trying to resurface. Vile words wanted to spill out of his mouth, directed at Nancy and her new boyfriend, words full of vitriol and hate. Words that didn't need to see the light of day. Steve would swallow them down, replace the grimace threatening to form with a plastered on smile. If Nancy noticed his smiles didn't really quite reach his eyes these days, well…. She never commented on it.
Steve knew he couldn't keep letting it get to him like this. He knew it wasn't healthy. But he just felt… aimless. Without purpose. There had been this idea in his mind, this vision of a perfect, three bedroom split level at the end of a cul de sac, with a perfect wife and a perfect family. After everything though, after the Upside Down, the whole almost dying thing on multiple occasions. Well, Nancy had been right.
It was all bullshit.
Steve didn't know what he wanted anymore. Most of the time he felt numb, empty. Kept pushing down his feelings so he couldn't feel. Otherwise he would feel too much.
Steve cut his thoughts off abruptly, sitting up, running his hands through his unkempt hair. Another thing he had let go recently. He slapped his hands determinedly on his thighs.
Okay. He needed to get himself together. He was picking up Dustin from school in less than thirty. Steve was playing D&D with the whole gang tonight. He had finally given into Dustins non stop requests to join the party. A request which, according to Dustin, was a great honor and privilege that should not be taken lightly. One way or another, Steve had found that D&D wasn't all that bad. Especially with the kids, it could actually be pretty fun.
He laughed a little to himself as he pocketed his keys. This was his life now apparently, spending Friday nights with a bunch of thirteen year olds, playing nerd games.
Honestly, it could be worse.
***
Billy thought it must be some kind of sick joke when he saw Harringtons stupid fancy ride pull into the school parking lot. He had long ago abandoned standing out in the cold, freezing his ass off, and was currently back in the slightly less chilly Camaro, smoking what felt like his fifth cigarette. The cab was pretty well filled with smoke at this point.
Billy cracked open the door, airing out the smoke, watching Harrington preen his hair in his car mirror. The fucker didn't look too bad… all things considered.
Just seeing him again, in person, made Billy's blood boil in his veins, and he clenched his fists around the steering wheel, grinding his teeth together in frustration. Somehow, Billy had managed to avoid Harrington at school. Maybe the boy had taken the time off, to recover or something. Not that Billy had been looking for him.
Okay, fuck, so maybe he had been. On one hand he didn't want to see Harringtons stupid fucked up face at all, yet at the same time, inexplicably, Billy kept hoping he would. It was messed up. He was messed up. As messed up as Harringtons face.
Billy wasn't sure what he would do if he confronted Harrington. Part of him wanted to beat his face in all over again. That sick, burning part of him, constantly screaming for attention.
“Well, now's your chance Hargrove.” He thought venomously as King Steve, fallen from grace, finally stepped out of his goddamn vehicle.
Billy rolled his cigarette aggressively between his lips in frustration, eyes roaming over Steve's lean frame. Clad in a black pea coat and worn jeans, he didn't look half as shit as he usually did when he was wearing those polos of his. His eyes fell on Steve's face again, and he drew in a sharp breath. Stupid fuckin pretty boy, still too goddamn pretty even with all that telltale faded bruising, like patchwork around his eyes and cheekbones. Should have wrecked him up more, wrecked him so good there'd be scars all over that damn face of his, scars that would make him think of Billy every time he looked in the mirror.
Fuck. He needed to stop thinking like that. Making a decision he was sure he would regret, Billy slid out of his car, slamming the door behind him more aggressively than he had meant to. His boots left deep tracks in the snow as he made his way over to where Harrington still stood next to his vehicle, distractedly pulling on a pair of gloves he had procured from his pocket.
Billy sidled up right next to Harrington, getting into his peripheral vision. He felt a thrill run down his spine at the way Steve stiffened when he finally noticed Billy standing there. He faltered in putting on his left glove, audibly swallowing, tongue flicking out nervously over his lips, which Billy's eyes had wandered to inadvertently.
“You look like shit.” Billy opened with.
Steve turned to him fully at that, eyes sparking, “Oh, and who's fault is that?” He bit out.
Billy let a smile blossom across his face, nodding, “Oh, definitely mine Stevey.”
Steve growled, fists clenching at his sides. He looked ready to throw a punch for a split second there, and Billy felt his heart start racing, felt his body naturally bracing itself for a fight. Then Steve swallowed, unclenching his fists, licking his damn lips again(would he stop doing that).
“Alright glad we've yet again confirmed the fact that you're a grade A asshole Hargrove. Now will you stop badgering me?”
He finished pulling on his glove, turning his back to Billy, seemingly set on ending the conversation and heading into the school.
Billy did his best to not let it phase him. He leaned casually against Steve's car, pulling out his pack of cigarettes. He waved them aimlessly at Harringtons retreating form, “Wanna smoke?” He asked, innocently.
Steve froze, tension obvious in his shoulders, “I'm picking up Dustin.” The words were terse.
Billy chuckled, “Come ooon, pretty boy, school won't get out for another 15. One smoke won't hurt?”
At first, Billy thought for sure Steve was going to spit out a fuck you and hightail it the hell away, the way he was still standing there, frozen. He figured if he could see Steve's face right now, he'd probably look like a deer in the headlights or some shit. Billy didn't know why he was so intent on getting Harrington to have a smoke with him all of a sudden, like they were fuckin buddies. He still felt that anger, deep down, like a caged and wild animal, and hell yeah it wanted to pummel this boy in front of him. But there was something else there too. Something about the way Billy's mind kept referring to Steve as pretty boy on repeat(and meaning it) (he didn't want to think about that).
Then Steve turned around. And he just looked fuckin beat, and tired. You could see it in his eyes. All the irritation was gone, just like that, they were dead empty, and Billy didn't like that nearly as much as the fire he had seen in them before.
Steve reached out a hand reluctantly, plucking a smoke from the pack, leaning against the car, pretty damn far from Billy though, he noted mirthfully. For a second Steve fumbled in his pockets, but they came up empty, and he scrunched his nose down at the unlit cigarette in his mouth.
Billy chuckled, procuring his own lighter, he flicked it on, beckoning Steve closer with a nod of his head. He was surprised when Steve leaned forward without hesitation, closing the gap between them. Billy felt something tight in his stomach at the proximity, and the warmth of Steves breath on his hands as he brought the lighter close. Steves eyes flickered up and met Billys, while he was lighting the damn cigarette, and he almost faltered for a minute there, but he kept his gaze locked with Steve's. Challenging him with his eyes, he briefly glanced at Steve's mouth and back again. His mind kept repeating the same thing. Over and over. Stupid fuckin pretty boy.
Steve backed away then, the cigarette between those damn distracting lips of his now lit, and he settled himself back again, taking in a drag, then blowing it out into the frosty air. Billy watched him for another minute, and then shrugged, pocketing the lighter and taking another drag from his own smoke.
They stayed like that, in silence, freezing their asses off, until the school bell rang, breaking the silence and making Billy jump a little.
Steve pulled himself off the car, dropping the smoke and crushing it into the snow, he rubbed his hands together against the cold.
“Thanks for the smoke, I guess.” He said, not looking at Billy once, and then he was gone.
Billy blinked a few times, watching as swarms of kids spilled out of the opening school doors. Max should be among them at some point. That was the whole damn reason he was here.
He abruptly shook himself out of the stupor the cold had put him in and made his way back to his car, revving the engine and turning up the music to a suitable din.
It wasn't until Max was sitting in the passenger seat, per usual shooting him glares and giving him the silent treatment, that he realized it. The quiet. That goddamn quiet that had been eating him alive, till he was sure he would have to rip off his own skin. It hadn't bothered him once while he and King Steve were standing there like fools in the cold, smoking together.
He peeled out of the parking lot, turning up the volume of the stereo even louder.
What did that even fuckin mean.