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It was pretty common knowledge among the people of Hawkins that Steve Harrington was not the sharpest tool in the shed. His grades were passable at best. His basketball skills were mediocre. Even when it came to street smarts, he was not particularly gifted. But he had one more weakness that no one had thus far managed to clock.
Steve was bad at eating.
It was something basic you wouldn’t even call it a skill. But Steve sucked at eating. Just another thing that he could put on the list.
As a kid he had been terribly picky, so much that it wasn’t unusual for him to be sat at the dinner table, glaring at his meal, a full hour after his parents had finished. He’d stab his spinach, gagging at the mere idea of the bitter taste and slimy texture in his mouth. He couldn’t do it. Going to bed without dinner was a reward rather than a punishment.
Steve never fussed it though, because he had a superpower. That’s right. He had one thing going for him. Steve did not get hungry. Well- not until he was eating. Then it was as if suddenly all those lost signals came through all at once and he could inhale in own body weight in food. The same went for water. He wasn’t thirsty until he put a glass to his lips and another two usually followed in quick succession. But other than that, he was completely liberated of that nagging feeling most people would get.
What some called ‘intermittent fasting’ was Steve’s day to day routine since he was 12 and he was relatively left to his own devices. When it came to his nutrition, Steve largely depended on external reminders. If it wasn’t for scheduled meals, like school lunches, where he could see other people eating and was reminded if not conditioned to do the same, he would have starved a long time ago. And when his parents were at the country club for the weekend and he got preoccupied, it was not rare for him to go a day or two without food. He would simply forget.
“Do your parents feed you?” Billy asked as he watched Steve inhale his serving of fries. “Like- at all?” Steve picked another six from the tray, took his time to drown them in ketchup before shoving them all in his mouth at the same time. He shook his head, cheeks puffed as he chewed.
“Not if they’re not around, no.”
Sometimes they would arrange something for him on nights when they were away but as he grew older, they gave him more liberty in deciding what he wanted to eat. His mother thought that it would be more fun for him that way, since he was so particular about what he did and didn't like. And Steve did actually like to cook. He was pretty okay at it as well. He just hated eating alone. It always brought back memories of when mum and dad left him at the table, having long given up on talking the bites into him. So when they weren’t home, Steve rarely remembered to eat dinner and if he did, it felt like a chore rather than a threat.
It wasn’t much of a problem while he was still with Nancy, because they hung out enough for him to check off a couple of meals a day. Mrs. Wheeler was like the mother he always wished he had, one who remembered his favorite dishes and made sure to serve up something she knew he would like. The dinner table at the Wheelers was loud and busy but it felt like the way some board game advertisements made Steve feel, that there was this thing bringing all these characters together around a table for some period of time. Sometimes there was some bickering but there was this unwavering undercurrent of love. There would be joking and laughing and the food went in without Steve having to think about it.
But now that Nancy and he were broken up, dinner nights were over and no one was there to notice Steve slipping, so no one ever questioned it. He didn’t have anyone to sit with at lunch anymore, so he usually spent those periods in his car, smoking, waiting for the day to be over. Sometimes Billy would join him, tap the window and slip into the passenger seat. Steve didn’t know how but they had slowly warmed up to each other.
A week after their fight, Billy had cornered Steve in the hallway.
“Hey,” he’d said as he sloughed against the locker next to Steve’s. His tone was significantly less heated than his usual snarl. “How’s your face?”
“Fine,” Steve said as he shut the locker door. The blue and purple had begun to fade into a colour that could only really be described as baby puke. He’d long given up on trying to cover up that damage and left the bruise out for everyone to admire. “Just fucking fantastic.”
Billy licked his lips. “Listen- I’m sorry about that. That erm- I went too far… There was just- It wasn’t about you, anyway.” There was a pause. Billy cleared his throat and added:
“But if I catch you fucking around with sister again your ass is grass, you hear me?” Steve raised his brows.
“Thought she was your stepsister.” Billy rolled his eyes.
“Stepsister, whatever. Just don’t mess with her.”
Steve nodded. Now that he had some distance from the situation he could sort of see how things might have looked from Billy’s perspective.
“I won’t.” Just as he spoke the words the second bell went off.
“Guess, I better head to chemistry or McWarren is gonna have my ass before you can,” Steve sighed. Billy grinned.
“He causing you trouble?”
“Well, I’m failing his class so I don’t exactly have the credit to be late,” Steve muttered. Billy nodded thoughtfully.
“Let me know if you ever need any help. It’s one of my best subjects.” Billy rapped his knuckles against the locker before setting off to his own class.
Steve wouldn’t call Billy a friend exactly. He was more of an ex-nemesis, which all the layered tension implied. Their sneers on the basketball field transitioned into banter, but it was still tentative.
Despite or maybe because of the fragile nature of their newfound alliance, Billy was quite observant. He seemed to be the only one to notice that, contrary to everyone else, Steve’s face seemed to have slimmed down over the winter holidays. He saw how dull behind the eyes Steve got as the day progressed, how he got fidgety and scatterbrained.
“Late night last night?” Billy asked one afternoon when he'd forced Steve to stay at the library with him so they could pull him through his upcoming Biology test. The week before Steve had gotten the news that he'd flunked his SATs. He needed a miracle if he was going to do better on the re-sit, so he let Billy bully him into studying, although the whole thing felt futile.
“Steve?” Billy said. “You there, man?”
Steve lifted his head off the table and scrunched his nose like a sedated bunny.
“Huh?”
“How’d you sleep?” Billy clarified. “Did you sleep?”
“Yeah, I slept,” Steve mumbled defensively. “I was in bed at 8. Felt sick.” Billy had to admit he wasn’t all that surprised. Steve looked as if he was in the first stages of a zombie transformation.
“What’d you have?” Billy asked as he put his pen down. “Flu?” If Steve wasn’t feeling well, maybe they should call it a day.
“Hm, stomach bug I think,” Steve pouted. “I was nauseous and my stomach hurt. So yeah, I didn’t sleep great.”
“Huh, could it have been something you ate?”
“Hmmph… I think I skipped dinner but maybe.”
Billy wanted to say something but didn’t feel like he was allowed to.
Over the weeks that followed, Steve got worse. He was dragging his feet, couldn’t sit upright for long without getting sore. Sometimes he forgot what he was going to say mid-sentence. Whatever bug he’d caught surely had endurance.
“What’s wrong?” Billy kept asking him and after a while, maybe because Steve grew too tired to brush off Billy’s concern, he just sighed.
“I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going on with me.”
That afternoon during basketball practice, Steve lived up a little. Running around seemed to have woken him from his semi-slumber state, although his legs still seemed unsure at times.
They took a small break to have some water. All seemed well until Steve got up from the bench and went pale as a sheet. Some heads turned when Steve stumbled and barely managed to stabilize himself against the wall. Billy wanted to jump up but- something held him back. There was something about everyone’s eyes that made him feel seen in a way that he didn’t like.
“Harrington,” Coach Pensley spoke wearily. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, m’fine. Just a sec.” He had about half of the team fooled but not Billy. He decided to screw it and went over.
“Hey bud,” he whispered as he leaned next to Steve against the wall. “What’s going on? You need to sit down?”
Steve looked tired and pale and generally not well. His eyes were distant. They were looking somewhere in Billy’s direction but past him, through him almost.
“Billy,” Steve whispered, as he reached for Billy’s arm and struggled to find it. When he did, his grip was tight- almost straining.
“I can’t see anything,”
Billy's blood went cold.
“It’s like- I got up and everything went blotchy around the edges and-“
“Okay, sit down,” Billy ordered, trying to hide the panic in his voice. “Can you sit down?” Steve nodded and with one hand on the wall, he sank down onto the floor. His breaths were slow and loaded. Billy stood by, feeling utterly helpless as his friend may have gone blind? Was he having an aneurysm?
“What’s going on?” Pensley had appeared at their side.
“He says he can’t see,” Billy stuttered.
“Everything’s very blue...” Steve said as he squeezed his eyes shut.
“Steve, lie down.” He did as he was told. To Billy’s surprise, the coach reached down for Steve’s sneakers and lifted his legs up to a 60-degree angle. The whole team was watching now.
It took a few seconds before Steve muttered. “I think’s coming back.”
They kept him like that for another minute before he was allowed to sit again. He got handed his water bottle and took slow sips with his back against the wall. His face was a little flushed from the suddenly blood rush to his head but other than that, he looked absolutely wrecked.
“Do you get this more often? The world going black?” The coach asked after he told the other boys to stop their useless ogling and get back to the training. Billy hadn’t moved but the coach hadn’t told him off for it yet.
“Sometimes,” Steve’s voice was still shaky when he spoke. “It happens sometimes when I get up but it usually doesn’t last this long.” Pensley nodded.
“I think you should go home, Harrington.” He said. “Go to bed, have some soup, maybe get your iron checked out, alright?”
Steve nodded, although his eyes still had that unseeing film over them. When he felt ready, he got up, slowly this time. Billy was assigned the responsibility to make sure that Steve made it to the changing room. He could walk by himself, but his tread was still hesitant.
“Think you can shower by yourself, tiger?” Billy asked. Steve let out a quiet laugh and told Billy that he would manage.
Billy’s face burned up at the thought of helping Steve undress, pulling the shirt over his head and arms to reveal his slender torso, the small tuft of chest hair. He had seen Steve naked dozens of times but he still turned around when Steve stripped. He heard the tap turn on. The sound of water hitting bare skin.
He decided to wait on the changing bench, just to be on hand in case Steve got dizzy again. Maybe he should drive him home, to be safe. It would mean that Steve’s beemer would be left in the school parking lot for a couple of days, as long as Steve needed to recover from whatever he had. Billy could probably pick him up for his first day back. He couldn’t see King Steve getting on a school bus.
Steve took his time. Billy knew rich people liked to take long showers but it wasn’t as if the gym showers were such a beacon of luxury. Steve must have been done washing his pits by then.
“Steve?” His voice reverbed through the otherwise empty changing room. It took a few seconds before he got a ‘hm’ back.
“You okay in there?”
“Erm...” Billy gets up as soon as he heard the quiver in Steve’s voice.
“I- I don’t think so... no...”
Despite the internal resistance he felt, Billy turned the corner and glanced into the shower unit to find- no Steve.
Except, no- he was there but he was sat down on the tiles, shivering with his head between his knees as the water trickled down his back. From his breathing, it seemed as if he either was or had been crying.
Billy grabbed Steve’s towel from the hook and turned off the water. He wrapped the cloth around Steve’s hunched figure and crouched down beside him, not caring that his gym shorts got soaked on the wet tiles.
“Talk to me,” he murmured as he ran his hand where the towel covered Steve’s spine. Steve took a shaky breath.
“I think I’m having an anxiety attack.”
“About the biology test?”
Steve shook no. “No, I think I did alright. I don’t know. I’m just- I keep getting dizzy and- I’m crying-“ Steve’s hand trembled when he pushed the wet hair out of his face.
Something clicked in Billy’s head.
‘-go to bed, eat some soup-‘
Billy held up his hand, palm down.
“Do this,” he ordered and Steve followed his movements. He was shaking like a chihuahua with Parkinson's.
“When’s the last time you ate?” Steve furrowed his brow. He had to think very long and hard, considering how woozy he felt.
“Erm… I don’t know...”
“What did you have for lunch?”
“I was in the library.”
“Breakfast?”
“I can’t eat in the morning.”
Billy was no doctor but it seemed clear to him what was going on.
“Alright, get up. We’re gonna feed you.” But Steve shivered and shook his head.
“You’re not nauseous, you idiot,” Billy said. “You’re just hungry.”
Billy told the coach that he was going to drive Steve home. 20 minutes later they were in a Wendy's parking lot, a big order stalled out on the dashboard in front of them. Steve took a hesitant sip from his milkshake and upon finding that he didn’t immediately throw it back up, as he expected, he sucked the straw more eagerly. The rest of the meal followed easily with Billy reminding him every now and then to take drinking breaks. Steve obeyed without renounce but god, how did he not realize he was this hungry?
“So, what is this?” Billy asked while Steve was cleaning up Billy’s order of chicken nuggets. “Are you on some crash diet or something?” He could still feel Steve’s vertebra on his fingertips, which seemed more pronounced than was good for him.
Steve snorted. “No?” he said. “Do you not see me stuffing my gills with chicken as we speak?” Billy watched closely as he tried to map out his next sentence.
He knew a few girls like this back in Cali. Gorgeous, bubbly, long-legged girls who would get scouted by a modeling agency, started out with the stars in their eyes and the promise of magazine covers on their minds, only to turn into a hollowed shadow version of their former selves. Steve wasn’t a girl, but he was handsome enough to be a model. Steve had a face with character. Those moles that dotted his skin, plush lips, dark hooded eyes that could draw anyone in. Steve was good looking, but there was something about him that made you feel like you hadn’t quite met him yet, that if you looked long enough you might unveil that secret.
With a flutter of his heart, Billy realized that he liked Steve. He really like-liked Steve. It hit him slowly, like a stone sinking to the bottom of a well. How long had that stone been on its way to the bottom? How long had he known? It was a wonderful, harrowing feeling that he instantly tried to push back to where it came from.
Not now. This was something to ponder and overthink when he was alone. Pack it up and put it away. This right here is not about you.
He swallowed, mouth like sandpaper. “I’m just worried,” he said as he picked at his fries.
“You’ve been dropping pounds since Thanksgiving.”
Steve was not a good actor. The look of ridicule and befuddlement was too immediate to be insincere. His lip and brow curled up in amused disbelief.
“What?” He squealed. He turned towards Billy as if he was waiting for him to crack and admit that he was joking. From the front it was even clearer that Steve’s jaw has become sharper, his cheekbones more pronounced. It would have been a good look if it wasn’t for the dark circles under his eyes. Billy was all but too familiar with this look.
“You must have noticed,” Billy said.
To be fair, Steve had always been a slender guy. However much he had slimmed down showed mostly in his face. Billy would know. He showered with Steve multiple times a week (not that he was paying attention of course- oh god, nope. Not now-)
As things were looking right now, Steve was not in immediate danger of malnourishment, but Billy’s not about to wait it out.
Steve’s expression faltered. His chewing slowed. He turned away, toward the windshield and stared out over the empty parking lot.
“What are you thinking?” Billy asked after a while. Steve blinked and dropped his chin to his chest.
“Nothing. Just- I normally don’t have to eat as often as other people do. I guess I sort of forgot about it. I didn’t know I was losing weight but I’ll try to pay more attention to it.” He picked up another nugget.
“You don’t have to eat?” Billy deadpanned. “Who the hell talked that into you?” Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Steve really did have a screwed sense of how these things work.
Steve shrugged and said: “No one did. I just don’t get hungry.” before he popped the nugget in his mouth.
“How do you not get hungry?” Billy asked, stunned.
“I don’t know,” Steve sputtered. “How do you get hungry?” It was a stupid question, Billy knew that. But he couldn’t wrap his head around having gone so long without food that you can’t stand up in the shower and still not realize that you should eat something.
“Apparently most people get hungry every couple of hours and I just... don’t,” Steve admitted. “I just don’t. I do get hungry from time to time but mostly when I don’t have anything to do.”
“But that’s just bored-eating,” Billy said. “Most people get that.” But Steve corrected him.
“No, actually that’s when my stomach will tell me like: ‘hey, I’m empty!’ It’s not just ‘oh, I wanna eat’. I still get one as well, from time to time, but I can pretty easily ignore it. It usually takes a while before I actually get hungry.”
“How long?” Billy was almost afraid to ask. Steve chewed and thought before he said:
“A day or two?”
Billy choked on his spit.
“You don’t eat for two days? Regularly? HOW do you- your parents allow that?” Billy knew he fucked up as soon as he said those words. He knew about Steve’s parents and the fact that they were never home. He fully deserved the glare he got.
“Okay, fuck you for that one,” Steve muttered quietly.
“I- I’m sorry,” Billy sighed. ‘I know that was a dick move but-“ He scrunched his face and struck his hand down on the steering wheel, accidentally sending off the horn. “FUCK! This just makes me hate them more!”
Steve jumped in his seat at the sudden outburst. He stared at Billy with saucer eyes. Billy’s gaze was stiff, his jaw tight, glaring at the empty parking spots. It didn’t make sense. Why was Billy so upset about this? It didn't have anything to do with him.
“Sorry for that,” Billy whispered and took a deep breath. He’d been trying to work on his anger but god, this time it felt just. Steve’s parents weren’t just neglectful they were letting their son starve while they were doing fuck all somewhere at a golf lane.
“Steve,” He said, calmer this time. “I don’t care if you’re hungry or not. You need to do a better job of looking after yourself.”
Steve curled his lip. “What do you know about it? It's my body.”
“Yeah, and I had to watch you nearly faint, multiple times today because you’re not fueling it correctly.”
Steve stared at the food wrappers on the dashboard and after a while, he whispered. “Yeah, okay.”
Billy couldn’t help but feel sorry for the guy. He had to remind himself that, although it had been scary for him to watch Steve lying on the gym floor, panting with sweat glistening at his forehead, Steve was the one that lost his vision for a good minute. That must have been terrifying. And now Billy was scolding him for something he couldn’t help, something that no one was helping him with. It must really suck to suck at eating.
After a drawn-out silence, Billy turned on the radio. They flipped through the channels until they stumbled upon a terrible pop song they should both be embarrassed to know all the words to and turn it all the way up. After an hour of terrible singing and laughter, Steve leaned back in the passenger seat, eyes drooping. The sugar high was rolling down again and his full tummy made him sleepy. As soon as Billy dropped him off, he curled up on the couch. Billy went to get Steve a final glass of water before leaving but when he returned to the living room, Steve was already drifting off, body slumping on the pillows and for the first time in weeks, he seemed like he was, or at least would be, okay. Billy backtracked slowly, careful not to squeak his boots and put the glass back on the kitchen counter.
When Steve woke again, he smelled something, something burning. His eyes shot open. He stumbled off the couch and dashed to the kitchen as fast as his spaghetti legs allowed him. He stopped in his tracks when he found none other than Billy Hargrove behind the skillet.
“You’re still here,” Steve blurted out before realizing how rude that sounded. It was just that he wasn’t used to waking up to people in his house.
“I am,” Billy affirmed, spatula in hand. Steve noticed that the kitchen had been cleaned. All the dishes were stacked in neat piles.
“You didn’t have to do all that,” Steve muttered as he wandered in. Billy gave him a lopsided smile.
“I couldn't figure out what cupboards to put them in, so I just left them on the counter. Your fridge is stocked as well. It was a wasteland in there.” Steve didn’t know what to say. Who the hell was this housewife and what had she done with Billy Hargrove?
“Wow, erm- thanks! Thank you… Eh, what do I owe you?”
“I took the money from your wallet,” Billy said as he flipped his cooking. Alright, that was the Billy Steve knew.
“What are you making?” Steve asked as he joined Billy at the stove.
“My specialty. Grilled cheese.”
“Didn’t we just eat?”
“First off, that was four hours ago. Most people eat multiple times a day, Steve. Catch up.”
Steve laughed and hooked his chin in the crook of Billy’s neck and Billy’s poor heart nearly gave in.
Steve took a few days off before he returned to school and yes, Billy had left his number behind in case Steve needed a ride, which he had gladly taken up on. That day during lunch break, Billy slipped into Steve’s beemer, as per usual, and dropped a paper bag in Steve’s lap.
“What’s this?” Steve asked as he peered inside and found four sandwiches.
“Lunch,” Billy replied as he started to unpack his own.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
Billy looked up. “Did you eat already?” Steve shook his head. Billy gave a simple nod to the packet and Steve obediently took a sandwich from the bag.
Billy kept bringing in lunch the following days and every time Steve told him that he shouldn’t have. But he never brought his own. Billy was right when he said that, despite his non-existent knowledge about cooking, he had absolutely mastered the art of the sandwich. Besides, Steve sort of liked that someone made the effort to look after him. He didn’t want to be a burden on Billy but he also didn’t want their little ritual to stop. Whereas before, Billy only dropped by for a smoke periodically, they now shared every lunch period together. Billy’s skin was not as thick as Steve once thought. Behind the broody exterior, Billy was actually a pretty fun guy who liked to joke around and had a terrifyingly encyclopedic knowledge about old movies.
Over the weeks that followed Steve started to get back on track. He was less tired, less moody. He notices, to his own surprise, that he could actually pay attention in class, at least some of the time.
“Look at all these notes I took!” He said, a little too loud and proud for the librarian's judgment when he met Billy at their usual table.
“Wow!” Billy replied when he saw the pages full of atom models. “Someone is gonna make McWarren proud!” Steve beamed like a little kid.
The next Monday Steve came in, very pleased with himself, and said: “Guess what?”
“What?” Billy replied
“My parents are in Barcelona for their anniversary and I made dinner on both nights!”
Billy laughed. “Nice! Up top!”
Somehow it didn’t feel weird to high five over something that would be so normal to anyone else. Steve was just a little different than most. The little victories should be celebrated accordingly.
It was beautiful to see Steve live up again but Billy found that if he lingered on it too long, it also made his blood boil. He couldn’t stop thinking about everyone around Steve who failed him by not noticing he wasn’t doing well. Teachers, so-called ‘friends’, but most of all, Steve’s parents who, despite all the money they seemed to work so hard for, were still unable to cover the basics such as making sure their kid ate something every once in a while.
Sometimes Steve would still mope at Billy that he shouldn’t be bringing in snacks or telling him when to drink water, that he should be able to do all of that himself. But the fact of the matter was that Steve couldn’t do those things by himself. But he could do other things.
For one, Billy discovered, Steve was an excellent whistler - and that really means phenomenal. His reach went from the highest to the lowest notes and he seemed to be able to reproduce any melody perfectly after just hearing it once. Stever was good at mediating arguments. Billy couldn't count the times Steve had stepped in to resolved squabbles between the twerps. He was earnest and kind and the people of Hawkins might not think of Steve Harrington as a particularly sharp tool but why would you even compare a hammer with a saw? Maybe that metaphor didn't entirely hold up, Billy thought, but the point was: Steve was just a little different. Some things were a little harder for him than they would be for others. Just like you wouldn't ask a screwdriver to mow the lawn, it was unfair to expect Steve to do some things all by himself. He just needed a hand from time to time.
Although Billy was happy to be that hand, he started to carefully nudge Steve to make an appointment with his physician to see if maybe there was an underlying problem. He would happily bring Steve his lunch for the rest of the year if he had to, but it didn’t seem right that Steve’s body couldn’t tell him when he had to eat.
Steve finally caved, went in, and came back very grumpy. The appointment had been infuriatingly cyclical, doctor assuming once again that Steve was trying to control his life and body by controlling his food, Steve explaining that he didn’t have an eating disorder, that he simply didn’t get hungry, doctor suggesting he just set alarms for when to eat, Steve explaining that it wasn’t that simple, that whether he ate really depended on his mood and what options he had, after which the doctor once again explained to Steve that he couldn’t be anorexic 'because he was a boy'. The blood work came back fine. Steve was sent home with some iron tablets and a referral to a dietician. Billy suggested he gave it a chance. Steve said he’d think about it.
He was actually managing pretty alright on his own. Billy definitely helped, in more ways than he knew. When the clock hit seven in the afternoon and Steve didn’t feel like cooking, he reminded himself that Billy wouldn’t want him to skip dinner and he pulled himself off the couch anyway. He wasn’t doing it perfectly but he was significantly more consistent than before.
Billy was probably the best friend he’d ever had, better than Nancy even. She had loved him, just not in the way that he needed her to. He couldn’t be ‘needy’ with her. It was always him standing up for her, hugging her when she was upset. But it was never his turn to be taken care of. Maybe he didn't need a new girlfriend, a least not right away. Now that he was thinking about it, it hadn't even though about dating in a while...
One day Steve looked to his passenger seat and was struck just by how beautiful Billy was. He knew that Billy was hot, he had eyes, but he’d rarely found another man beautiful and when he had, he’d quickly shrugged it off and redirected his attention. But Billy was beautiful as he took a big bite from his sandwich and chewed, a piece of tomato peeking out of his mouth. It didn't make any sense but it was definitely true.
“Bibbip," Steve said when he spotted the smear of mayonnaise on Billy's cheek. "You have something here.” Billy tried to lick it off and failed so spectacularly that Steve laughed and leaned in to get it for him. He didn’t really know what happened next. One moment he was looking at blue eyes and then Billy kissed him. It took him entirely by surprise and at the same time, it felt like the thing he had been waiting for was finally happening. Billy’s lips were soft and salty. Steve will never forget that their first kiss tasted like a BLT.
Billy pulled back suddenly and when Steve opened his eyes he found Billy’s wide with horror. Steve’s heart sank.
“Was that a mistake?” He asked quietly. It wasn’t. You don’t accidentally kiss someone for that long. Steve knew that. But he also knew that this was not something that friends did.
“I don’t know...” Billy whispered back. Steve bit his lip. It felt too right to be wrong. And if Billy didn’t think so too, he would already be out of Steve’s car by now.
“Could I… have a second serving of whatever that was?” Steve raised his eyebrows hopefully. Billy broke out in a careful smile.
“Always for the loyal customer.” and he dipped in to close the distance between them.
Over the course of the weeks and months that followed, Steve looked more alive than he had in a long time. He was more awake. He had more energy. He could handle his alcohol better, which was good because as Billy’s ‘friend’ he was attending a lot more parties again, often disappearing upstairs for a little privacy. His square jaw got a little of its boyish roundness back. Eventually, his slender frame got a little broader and sturdier than he did before.
Steve knew on some level that he would be gaining a few pounds. It made sense but it still kind of stung when he did notice the changes, stupid stuff like how he went back to the old hole in his belt, the one he used while he was still with Nancy. He knew that was progress. He knew it was good. But it was very hard to believe when for the first time in his life, Steve could squeeze the flesh around his belly button.
“Am I getting chubby?” He asked one day as Billy had him spread out on the mattress and was working his way down from Steve’s neck to his belt, leaving a trail of kisses as he went. At that point, he had managed to gain back most of his losses and maybe a little extra here and there. It looked good on him, Billy thought. Healthy. Cared for. Billy found himself wondering if this was Steve’s ‘real’ body type, if this was what he would always have looked like if someone had made sure he ate like a normal person. By then, they had figured out that Steve’s eating was at its worst when he was stressed and with finals coming up, it gave Billy some comfort that Steve had a small buffer in case his weight dipped again.
“I think you look hotter than ever.” Billy murmured against Steve’s skin. Steve’s belly shook as he laughed.
“You just like feeding me.”
“Yes,” Billy confirmed as he pressed a kiss to Steve’s belly button. “I love it when the people I love eat three meals a day. Guilty as charged.”
Steve craned his head with a shit-eating grin. “You love me?”
Billy froze.
“Duh,” he said, although sweat sprang up on his forehead. “Of course, idiot.”
Steve grinned even wider and whispered with a voice laden with warmth: “I love you, too, asshole.”
One morning Billy woke up in Steve’s bed to the sound of quiet snoring. Spring was just shy of dipping its toes into summer and the sun was up earlier every day. Billy pressed a kiss to Steve’s hand that peeked out over the duvet and slipped out of warm comfort of their bed to return half an hour later with pancakes and coffee.
“Wake up, babe. It’s a big day.” Steve grunted and rolled over but opened his eyes when he recognized the scent of his favorite breakfast food. He sat up as Billy crawled back under the comforter with him and they ate their breakfast in bed. They had woken up a little earlier than they usually would on the weekend, as they had an important trip to make and they didn’t want to be late.
“Aren’t you going to quiz me?” Steve asked through a mouthful of food. “Where are the flashcards?”
But Billy smiles and presses a kiss to Steve’s temple.
“Not today. You’ve worked your butt cheeks off and now you deserve pancakes,” Billy said as he stole a blueberry from Steve’s plate.
“Hey! You’ve had your own.”
“I gave you the best ones.”
“Hm, yeah I bet.”
Billy had already cleared his plate while Steve was still working through his serving. It took him even longer than usual to get his breakfast down. Billy had somewhat managed to get Steve in the habit of eating something before school, although it was still the hardest meal of the day for him.
“How do you feel?” Billy asked after a moment of silence.
“Nervous,” Steve admitted as he took another bite. After months of studying, it was finally time for him to do his SATs over. If he was lucky, it would be enough to apply to college somewhere in Cali, not the same school as Billy probably, but he could be close nonetheless, closer than they would be otherwise.
“You’re gonna do great,” Billy assured him as he dug his fingers through Steve’s hair. Steve let out a content little purr. He was still careful to hold out hope, but the way Billy said it, he almost started to believe it himself.