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Steve doesn’t hear from him for four days.
It's the longest they've gone without talking since early November, and even though that was just last month it feels like a lifetime ago. It was a lifetime ago. They're different people now. By Thursday, when he realises that Billy isn't going to call to apologise, Steve decides he's completely over this. At least that what he tells Robin when he calls her to bitch about everything.
He’s tired of this. It’s frustrating. He just can't be the one tiptoeing around Billy and his moods. He’s tired of being back in Hawkins and he’s tired of being tired all the time. He’s so bored out of his mind. He didn’t realise how much his entire time these past few weeks have been built around Billy, and that's not really Billy’s fault but he’s only nineteen. Goddamnit. He's too young for this.
Robin hmms her way through much of his complaining, and he's grateful that she's allowing him to bring the mood down for her. She and Heather are in Europe for December. For the whole of Christmas. She doesn't need Steve calling to complain but she listens patiently as he goes through a list of all the reasons that Billy is the worst person. He doesn’t really believe most of it, and he knows Robin doesn't either. But it makes him feel better for the time being while he stews. And it helps distract him from the fact that he really is worried that Billy’s done something he shouldn’t have.
On Friday he runs into Nancy coming out of the grocery store and it feels so weird. It's been more than a year since he's seen her. Graduation. He saw on Facebook that she and Jonathan were living in New York, so she must be back for the holidays. Except, not really… He ducks into the produce aisle staring blankly at an assortment of too green tomatoes, hoping to avoid her. But, no such luck.
“Steve, is that you…?”
He’d really prefer not to deal with this right now. “Hey, Nance.” He picks up a tomato at last minute to hide the avoidance. “Just getting some veg. Good old five-a-day.” She smiles sadly at him and then at his basket, filled with Twizzlers and vodka and now a stray tomato.
“I heard what happened with Billy’s family. Jesus, I’m so sorry.”
It’s been weeks since the funeral and Steve can still feel his throat clogging up. He’s still mad at Billy, but he’s also just mad at how fucking unfair this whole world is.
“Yeah, it’s been… yeah.”
He doesn’t know what to say, as Nancy awkwardly pats his shoulder. “I’m glad he’s got you. You were always good in a crisis.” He knows she means well, but her words aren’t comforting. “Call me…if you need anything,” she says awkwardly, realising Steve hasn’t responded and she’s walked off before Steve reminds her that he doesn’t think he even has her number. Who even calls people anymore? Everyone is connected on Facebook if they want to anyhow. But he doesn’t say that. It’s polite conversation. Which feels pointless with the way things are currently. God, he feels like he’s aged ten years in the last ten months. Between the breakup and getting back together and the funeral, Jesus. He feels like the walking dead.
He doesn’t even remember driving himself home and spends the rest of the afternoon and the next day getting progressively drunker on one bottle of vodka. He doesn’t call Robin this time, though. He gives himself credit for that at least. By Saturday, he’s reached full capacity of vodka and cleans the house in a burst of sensibility and silently thanks the stars that his parents won’t be back from Prague until the 28th. Billy’s things are still here…
By the evening, a week now, he’s wondering when he’s going to hear from Billy at all. He lies awake in bed wondering if this is really the end this time, confused and angry but tired to the bone. It’s such an unceremonious end to things this time, considering the explosiveness of the last breakup. He’s just about to drift off to sleep, before he realises that the buzzing that he’s hearing isn’t stray noises but his phone on the nightstand. By then he’s already got two missed calls from “Tommy Home”?
He answers confused, “Hello?”
Tommy didn’t even turn up to the funeral, even though Steve knows for a fact that he’s still in town.
“Steve, get your ass down here!”
“Carol?”
“Look, Billy and Tommy are completely wasted and they’ve got some assholes over and it’s---”
By now Steve has already begun pulling on is clothes and he’s not really listening carefully. Billy hasn’t touched a bottle since…January? And why the fuck is he with Tommy? They don’t even hang out anymore. By the time he remembers that they’re not talking he’s already turning into Tommy’s street wondering, how the fuck did I get here? There’s a small crowd at the front and he turns the collars of his coat up. Fuck, it’s cold. He hears Billy before he sees him.
“Well, just fuck you, you little bitch.”
Carol sees him and approaches him. She looks pissed. “Get Billy out of here!”
She stalks off before he can say that he’s not Billy’s keeper. Although, present circumstances suggest otherwise.
“I don’t understand what’s going on,” is what he feebly says instead to her retreating figure.
He sees someone fall from the corner of his eyes, winces when he realises it’s Billy throwing the punch. He jogs over, “Hey, Billy. Calm down.”
Billy looks up, his face clouded in drunken confusion which turns to anger when he recognises Steve.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
Steve so doesn’t have the energy for this right now. “Look, just get in the car, Billy.”
“Fuck you.” But he doesn’t say it with half enough of the venom that Steve’s heard him use before. Whatever that means.
Tommy eases up to him, he doesn’t seem half as drunk. “Hey man. This isn’t the time. This is supposed to be a quiet party…”
Billy shoves him off, “Huh, what you think you’re better than me?”
Steve doesn’t understand what’s happening here and he’s losing interest quickly.
“Everyone knows Carol is only marrying you because she’s knocked up. You think you’re hot shit because you’re going to be married? You’re living in Hawkins Indi-fucking-ana.”
Engaged? What the hell. Steve looks around. Why aren’t there any adults real around to help? He takes a breath and tries again, “Look, Billy – just. Let’s go home.”
Billy looks at him for half a beat and then shakes his head. “Just leave it alone, Steve.”
He walks off, slightly shaken. Steve looks at Tommy and shrugs and barrels off after Billy.
“Hey, wait up.” He touches his arm. God, he’s freezing and Billy shoves him off and now Steve is actually getting angry. “What the fuck, Billy?” He stops walking. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Billy turns around to face him. He’s shaking and Steve can’t tell whether it’s from the cold or anger. “What are you even fucking doing here, Steve?”
“Seriously? Carol called me hysterical because she wanted me to come get you. So, you’re fucking welcome.”
“Well, you came and I’m fine. No one fucking forced you. So, you can stop being an asshole about it.”
Steve blanches. “I’m being an asshole?! I haven’t heard from you in almost a week Billy.”
“Well, forgive me if I’m dealing with some heavy shit Princess,” Billy sneers. Steve takes a breath. He doesn’t want to escalate this.
“Billy,” he breathes in again. “Billy, look I don’t want to fight. Just get in the car.” No response. “I’m just trying to help.”
“Why the fuck are you?”
Steve looks at him, confused?
“What?”
“What the fuck are you even trying to help for. You don’t need to be here. Like the only reason you’re still with me is because you feel sorry for me. Why don’t you just end it? You didn’t sign up for this shit. Why do we keep dragging this out? You know it’s not going to work.”
Steve is silent. He doesn’t know what to say. Is Billy breaking up with him?
“Billy, what the hell?”
Billy sighs. “Steve. This isn’t working. You know it’s not. Just…just forget this.” He walks off staggering and Steve is too confused to go after. He just got dumped. And he’s so confused. He walks to the car and it’s not until he’s in the seat and looks down at the wetness on his coat that he realises he’s crying. When did that start? He can’t believe it. He’s not even sure what he’s feeling now. It’s not anger or sadness. He’s genuinely confused. He genuinely can’t imagine not being with Billy. But this isn’t like one of their real fights. He’s never seen Billy so dejected. Not even at the funeral. Fuck this. He’s not letting this end like this. This is bullshit.
He sniffles, and turns the key driving up the corner. He’s not even sure where Billy’s headed, but probably not his place – although he can’t imagine he’d want to go back to that house right now either. He starts driving around and it’s a good half an hour before he comes across anyone, it’s almost two in the morning. He doesn’t realise the hooded figure sitting on the curb a few houses ahead of him is Billy until he’s almost past him. He’s shivering from the looks of it and Steve curses angrily. God, maybe Billy’s right. He didn’t sign up for this, and Billy’s exhausting. He slams the door getting out.
“Jesus Christ, Billy you’re going to freeze out here.” It’s not until he gets closer, he realises that Billy’s shaking from crying, and not the cold. Steve dawdles for a few seconds, before he sits on the pavement next to him. He’s always been bad at this part. He was grateful that neither Max nor Billy cried at the funeral, but now he doesn’t know what to do, so just hugs Billy as he shakes in his arms. He’s saying something, but Steve can’t make out what.
“Shhh, shhh.”
It’s a few minutes before his words are intelligible. “Don’t leave me.”
What? Steve’s so confused. He was sure that Bill was breaking up with him. Or just did, in fact. But Billy seems convinced otherwise. He doesn’t know what the fuck is going on anymore. So, he just whispers, “It’s okay. It’s okay.” Even though it’s obviously not. It’s the opposite of okay and he doesn’t know how to fix it.
“This is all so fucked up,” Billy says sounding like he’s been gargling rocks. And Steve realises that he wants to cry because he honestly doesn’t know to deal with it when Billy can’t keep himself together.
“I’m sorry, Billy.”
He lifts his head up from Steve’s chest. “God, Steve. What the hell?! What are you even –,” he breaks off and covers his head with his hands. “You haven’t done anything to apologise for. Don’t you realise how much of a fuck-up I am? You could do so much better.”
“Billy, I love you,” he says tiredly. It’s the only explanation really, and not even in an exciting romantic way. It’s like they’re tethered together by this point.
After a pause Billy replies, “I love you too. But you deserve better than this.”
They sit holding hands for a long time, neither saying a word. By the time they get back into the car to drive to Steve’s place the sun’s peeking out from the sky. Steve dries back slowly. Billy leans his head against the pane of the window but he doesn’t say anything. Steve parks the car and he can feel Billy shifting behind him as he unlocks the door. He’s still in his pyjamas, a jacket thrown haphazardly over him.
“Where’s Max,” he whispers as they go up the steps. He probably should have asked that way earlier.
“She’s been at the Byers for a bit,” he looks up guiltily. “She doesn’t…. she doesn’t like being… with just me right now.”
“Okay.” He pauses. “We’ll get her later and go to lunch. Let’s go to bed.”
Billy grunts noncommittally, which is probably the best he can hope for. They go into bed and lie down. Billy’s back is pressed against Steve’s stomach and he must have been tired because he’s out before long. It feels like the first night they’d been back in Hawkins last month after the news of the crash. Steve tries to go back to that moment in his head. He’s not sorry Neil is dead, although he is sorry about Susan. He still doesn’t really quite understand the grief that Billy seems to feel. He aimlessly wonders, not the first time this month, what he’d feel like if his parents died. And he’s embarrassed to think it probably won’t be anything like this. He feels so emotionally disconnected from most of what goes on around him except for Billy. It’s probably a dangerous thing to put so much of your life in the hands of a single person, but he doesn’t see a way out of this now. He sighs, and closes his eyes. They’ll work on making things better tomorrow. puc