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Getting comfortable when you were stashed away in a girl’s bedroom like some kind of refugee was a near-impossible task. Even if he wasn’t still just in pieces after a whole day of sobbing and remembering and breaking on repeat, Billy wouldn’t have been able to sleep knowing that Karen Wheeler could burst in at any moment. That all hell could break loose in the blink of an eye.
No. Not ‘all hell’. Billy had already been through that. Hell wasn’t a middle-aged woman shouting at you because she thought you were violating her daughter. Hell was watching the one you love being torn to pieces and being unable to do a damn thing about it. As much as he usually had time for Karen Wheeler, ‘hell’ wasn’t something she was able to unleash upon him. Not by a long shot.
Regardless, Billy lay awake through the night, barely scraping together a couple of hours’ sleep altogether. Whatever his grand total reached, it wasn’t quality sleep either way. The sounds and sights -the very real and very painful hell- from Saturday night were still with him; still a huge, heavy part of him. More than once, he was jolted awake -panting and terrified- only to feel Nancy’s sleepy, comforting arms pulling him back down onto the mattress. In the end, it was enough to make him give up; enough to make him slip out from under the comforter and simply sit by the window into the darkened street.
Nancy was wonderful. She was good and pure and trying so hard to keep him safe. In the last twelve hours or so, she and Jonathan had basically stolen Billy away from his father’s house on Cherry Lane. With his trash bag filled with clothes and cassettes and god-knows what else, he’d been secreted into her bedroom for the foreseeable future. Anything to keep him safe.
The sad thing was, however, that she just wasn’t able to. She wasn’t Steve and Billy knew, as fucking pathetic as it was, Steve would be the only one who could make this better. His presence -his existence- was literally the only thing Billy wanted right now. Fucked up as that was.
So, sleep-deprived and feeling just about every fucking negative feeling a person could experience all at the same time, Billy walked through the doors of Hawkins High School on Tuesday morning. Without Steve, it felt horrible. Without Steve, it felt wrong. It felt wrong to be walking these halls that Steve Harrington once walked. It felt wrong to pass his locker and know he wasn’t there.
Bitter hatred twisted up for a brief second when Billy clocked the small group of girls standing near the locker. Two were wearing black and they and their stupid friends had their heads bowed, wiping tears from their eyes and snivelling.
Who the fuck were they? They didn’t know Steve. They didn’t know a damn thing.
The anger passed as quickly as it came, however. As much as they had been spending time together in the last month, Steve had lived all of his 18 years here in Hawkins. He had memories and attachments that Billy didn’t know about. Everyone here in this small town knew who Steve Harrington was, whether he was ranking in the popularity polls of the time or not.
If they wanted to mourn him, Billy shouldn’t begrudge them that. At least they could.
Before he knew it, he was standing by his locker, Nancy and Jonathan still by his side. He looked at Jonathan in question but only got a small smile in reply. Their lockers weren’t near his. They’d just escorted him here. Like Nancy had said yesterday; he wasn’t alone. She -they- didn’t want him to be alone.
“Hargrove! What’s happening, my man!” a loud and all-too-happy voice came from behind him just before a sharp slap on his shoulder caused Billy to stumble into the metal of his locker. His arms caught him but they burned from the strain. Fuck. “Woah! Sorry man, hit the bottle too heavily or something?”
Tommy fucking H.
Guts curling in irritation and hurt, Billy rounded on the clueless idiot.
“Tommy,” he said, aiming for a sneer; aiming to be intimidating. It didn’t work; fell short by a few hundred feet.
Oblivious and too giddy for his own good, Tommy laughed and took a step back like everything was fucking normal. Like nothing had happened over the weekend.
“Are you okay, Billy? You’re not looking so hot,” Carol, vapid harpy that she was, offered from a couple of steps behind her boyfriend. She was chewing gum like a true Hawkins cow, all slack-jawed and pointless.
They both wore an ease that the rest of the Hawkins High students at least had the decency not to. It was as if they didn’t care that Steve was gone. Hadn’t they been friends with him for years? Were they really so fucking cold that they couldn’t even pretend to care? They were fucking psychopaths.
“Haven’t-? Haven’t you heard?” Nancy stammered, sounding as disbelieving as Billy was feeling.
Tommy ignored her like the asshole he was. Didn’t even turn to acknowledge that she’s spoken. Just looked up and down the corridor in a pointed, clownish fashion.
“Where’s Harrington at, anyways? Don’t tell me you guys were partying without us! He playing hooky or something?” Tommy was laughing still. Saying Steve’s name with such familiarity; with such certainty that he was still a thing that happened in this world. Like he was still here to party and skip school.
It was too much. Billy was wound too tight. The pain was too close; too fresh; too intense.
He’d been right on the edge all morning anyways.
That’s what he told himself as he held the freckled moron up against the lockers. Already the students around them were stopping to look; alerted by the slamming sound of asshole against metal. Billy didn’t care about them; didn’t care about the squawks of protest coming from Carol. He didn’t care that his hands, his forearms, his fucking pecs all burned from the injuries he’d sustained that weekend. He didn’t even care about the rapidly resurfacing anger that flashed in the other boy’s eyes as he grasped at his hands, trying to pry himself free.
How dare Tommy not know? How dare he act like nothing had changed?
There was a couple of sharp kicks to his shins as the freckled boy tried to lash out and get free but Billy didn’t even flinch. Yeah, his grip wasn’t as tight as it should be; made weaker by the deep gouges that Joyce had had to stitch up for him. And, yeah, he hadn't been enough to save Steve. But, hell, he could still fucking hold Tommy fucking H against a locker while he decided how much damage to do. The asshole was going to pay for his fucking ignorance.
“Billy stop!” Nancy was suddenly standing at his side, a hand resting on his shoulder with every intention of calming him; of smothering the building fire within him with her gentleness. It wasn’t helping. Not when Tommy was still kicking and squirming. Not when he didn’t know fucking anything.
"What the hell man?!" Tommy cried out, confusion and fear pitching his voice up. "Hargrove... what-?"
“You don’t fucking say his name!” Billy snarled, trying desperately to ignore the growing pull of sadness that was already threatening to overtake his anger. “Fucking idiot. You don’t say-” he was gasping for breath like hauling a fucking fool was effort. Hell, it was right now he supposed.
Before he could say anything more, the intercom in the corridor crackled to life. Both boys' eyes flashed up to look at it, as if it could somehow be the principal scolding them for rough housing in the corridors. Carol let out another pathetic squawk of protest for Billy to let Tommy go but both he and Tommy just ignored her.
"This is a reminder to all staff and students that the memorial assembly for Steven Harrington will commence at 10.15am in the gymnasium today. Attendance is mandatory and Miss Martin will be available at all times to see any people needing grief counselling. I repeat-" the familiar, droning voice of Gladys continued.
As she spoke, Billy watched Tommy's expression change. The anger was gone from his eyes. Those eyes. Billy hadn't noticed how dark they were until now. Something he shared with Steve that Billy didn't. Like their past together. Hadn’t they been friends as kids? Hadn’t they crashed the June Ball together in their Sophomore year? Billy hated that Tommy had had so much time with him; that he’d had so much time and had fucking wasted it. Tommy really had no fucking right…
Hating their dull, darkness, Billy watched those eyes start to glisten with unwashed tears. The fuck..?
"Wha-? Memorial?" the freckled boy asked weakly and it sounded too close to home. Knowing that his own anger was shifting away, Billy suddenly couldn't bare to be anywhere near the other boy. He dropped him like he was a hot coal from a fire, stepping away from the rapidly developing look of anguish. "What- Steve's-? What?" Tommy stammered, a tear spilling onto his cheek.
Billy felt his arms tense up again. What right did this asshole have to be upset? Hadn't he spent the good part of a year treating Steve like shit? Hadn't his put downs been part of the cocktail of shit that made Steve always fucking question his own worth? Now here he was -growing more and more upset as he figured it out- and Billy hated him for it.
"Steve... He-" Nancy tried to explain but her voice was already choked with emotion. So much for holding it together. They were such a fucking pair. Finally wrenching his eyes away from Tommy, Billy watched Jonathan wrap his arms around his girlfriend. Holding her close in a futile gesture that Billy knew would do fucking nothing.
"Steve died, Tommy," he said, his voice quiet and so fucking sad. “They announced it yesterday. It’s why we were all out.”
All the while, Billy felt like a fucking spectator. He couldn't fucking say or do anything now. If he opened his mouth, it would be a toss up between him simply weeping like a goddamn baby or screaming like a goddamn psychopath. Neither was all that appealing. Not here. Not now.
He couldn’t turn back into that broken creature from the woods. The one that howled and cried and lost all track of time and space. He didn’t have that luxury here.
"What the hell? That's not funny, Freak," Carol spat, her voice as mean and fucking grating to hear as ever.
"Shut up Carol!" Tommy shouted before anyone else got the chance. She turned to him in disbelief, pausing for a moment to process the state he was in.
"What the hell, Tommy?" she bitched but now Tommy was advancing on Billy.
He grabbed onto Billy's jacket, trying to push him back. Billy stayed still and met the other boy's desperate gaze.
"What the fuck happened, Hargrove?! What the fuck?" he hissed, his hands white with tension, his voice accusing. Billy could feel the anger and grief from the other boy; could feel the growing blame too. Jesus. It was too much; too on the nose, too close to the bone. "You! You were always hanging out with him! You were always fucking there! At the June Ball, you were- What the fuck did you do?" Tommy spat and Billy felt that question burn into him.
"Nothing..." the truth slipped out. Because that's what it was: the fucking truth. As Steve had screamed and clawed and died, Billy had done fucking nothing. He’d not been enough.
It was all his fault.
Tommy let out a pained sound that was so fucking similar to the one in Billy's heart that it brought tears back to his eyes. Gripping onto Billy's jacket, Tommy clenched his jaw and screwed his eyes shut, shoulders starting to shake from the sobs that were already overtaking him.
“Tommy…” Carol started, her hand reaching out in her boyfriend’s direction but making no further effort to go to him. She looked fucking shocked at the violence of his reaction. Hell, if he wasn’t feeling quite so fucked up himself, Billy would be right there with her. “Tommy, let’s go-” she tried again but Tommy was surging up and rounding on her.
“Shut up!” he shouted and now everyone in the corridor was standing stock-still, just staring at the five of them. Tommy whirled around to look at Nancy, Jonathan and Billy in turn, the agony so evident even as it melded with his anger. “Shut up all of you!” he shouted again even though no one was speaking. “This isn’t-” the freckled boy tried but he sounded desperate now, switching between emotions like he couldn’t keep straight in his head which was the one he was actually feeling. His focus landed back on Billy and he was grabbing at him again. Shoving as hard as he could. “You fucking-!” he tried but then he was leaning forwards again and sobbing this time, forehead resting heavily on Billy’s chest.
It hurt. It hurt to have pressure there. It hurt to see his own emotions reflected back at him so starkly; so loudly. It hurt to feel damp tears soaking into his T-shirt as the boy he barely liked just clung onto him.
“Hagan,” a stern voice cut across the near-silence of the hallway. Billy looked up to see the looming presence of Mr Johnson standing there, just beyond where Nancy and Jonathan were. The older man’s usually bitter, grumpy face just looked sad today; further proof of the impact that Steve Harrington’s absence would have on Hawkins as a whole. “Come on, son. Let’s go,” the teacher said, reaching out and beckoning.
Wet-eyed and looking more than a little broken, Tommy moved away from Billy. It was so unlike him; obeying a teacher without so much as a muttered aside.
Billy watched as the changed boy, Tommy Hagan, followed Mr Johnson away down the corridor, flanked by a hesitant but still bound Carol.
Holy shit.