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Life is hard for Max Mayfield. Not as hard as it seems to be for Billy, but for similar reasons. They both know that the other isn’t normal in a way that Neil would always deeply disapprove of. They never really talk about it, but they both know. It’s like some sixth sense had told them they’re the same.
When they have the house to themselves after school or when their parents go on dates, they do stuff together that they would both deny for different reasons. Billy because he still has a reputation and Max because, even though they know The Party is cool, they don’t know how El and the guys would react. So they keep quiet.
Sure, they had been in town since September, but most of that was spent unpacking and actually getting enrolled. Not much time to just hang out together. But now that they were settled it was a lot easier and sure Billy was more on edge now but that’s probably just cause he’s always hated being too far from the ocean.
These things they do together in the temporary quiet of their home usually consist of talking about guys they find attractive, both real and fictional, famous or local. Like Ralph Macchio or Michael Biehn. Sometimes Billy teaches Max new skate tricks, how to make cool bracelets, or even how to whittle and throw knives and darts.
There’s one day, though. That Max bucks up the courage to talk. Starting by gently knocking on Billy’s door and finding him on his couch whittling over a small trash can for the shavings. Billy just jerks his head to the side, silently telling the redhead to take a seat next to him. He hands Max a chunk of wood just in case. But Max just holds onto it for dear life and speaks.
“Um Billy.. How- how do you know what you are?”
His brow creases and he stops what he’s doing, obviously confused by the question.
“How do you mean?” He asks before returning to carving out the rough shape of what seems like it’s going to be a bear.
“I mean- um.. Like,” Max sighs because not only is it hard to word, but they’ve never had a conversation anywhere close to this in the years of knowing each other, “like how do you know.. That you’re um.. That you’re a- a boy?” Max has never really been the shy or meek type, but there’s always a first for everything.
At this Billy puts down his carving, already sensing that this is gonna be something that needs his full attention. He takes a moment to think before answering the question, something Max has noticed that he always does when he’s telling the truth.
“Well, shitbird. That’s a tough one. I guess cause I like the way I look and the way people tell me I look good, y’know? Like they say shit like handsome or sexy or super-mega-awesome-hot.”
“They do not call you that. I don’t think I’ve heard literally anyone say that before.”
“How would you know? You only hang out with those fuckin nerds and they don’t have an ounce of social skills between ‘em,” his tone is light. It’s the kind of insult one might expect from a jackass older brother. He laughs at the feeble punch to the shoulder he gets for it.
“ Anyway . If you’re done dissing my friends. I’m tryna ask you some serious shit, dickhead.”
“Yeah yeah, go ahead. I’m listening.”
“So like how do you know if you like when people call you boy stuff? Or if you like the way you look?”
That seems to get him thinking. It’s not a question you’re really faced with every day. Unless you spend every day laying on the floor, high as shit, and contemplating life. He sighs through his nose and runs his lower lip through his teeth before he seems to catch the words he needs.
“I know I like being called stuff like ‘handsome’ cause I really wouldn’t enjoy being called shit like ‘pretty’ and as for liking how I look, I look in the mirror and there’s not much that I’d really see myself wanting to drastically change. If that makes sense.”
Max nods at his answer. It does make sense. It almost makes things click like why being called that very same thing had caused an instinctual crawl under the skin or when Max looks in the mirror, there’s an ever-present urge to go all Freddy Krueger on the hair that actually feels like fire on some days.
Billy can probably see the cogs turning, working to push out a conclusion that makes sense in regards to what all those feelings mean. But instead of jumping on the first thing they crank out, Max asks another question just to be sure.
“It- it does. But.. But what if I feel the same way you do about being called pretty? Or if i want to cry and cut off my hair every time I see it?”
Billy’s face softens from his usual resting bitch face, but it quickly turns to something most likened to concern, then back to thinking.
“What if we try something?”
“Like what?” Max has never trusted Billy’s… ideas before, but this doesn’t feel like the sort of situation he would spend to dick around.
“I mean. We probably can’t get rid of that mop without the parents flipping their twinkies, but what if- what if I tried calling you different stuff. Like stuff that’s more like stuff I get called.”
“I think. I think I wanna try it,” Max’s nods start slow before they pick up as the idea becomes more comfortable.
“Am I stickin’ with Max or what?”
“Yeah. Wouldn’t want to short out your stupid brain by making you call me two different names.”
They laugh and things get more comfortable between the two. Billy digs through his closet to see if he’s got anything that doesn’t fit him that made it through the move. There’s a couple band shirts, a muscle tank, a pair of ripped jeans, and even a spare pair of boxers. They run everything through the wash first, of course, and once they’re out Max takes a shower with Billy’s permission to use some of his products.
Max changes into what used to be a Deep Purple t-shirt, but had the sleeves exorcized at some point, the boxers, and the jeans. Even just leaving the bathroom felt easier than it ever had, let alone being seen by another person.
“Hey, you look pretty good, man,” Billy half smiles and pats the younger of the two on the back when he is rejoined in his room. “Pretty fuckin’ handsome, but we knew that would be the case given who you’re related to.”
Max is trying really hard not to immediately start crying. He gives Billy a wet smile and runs into a hug with his older brother. Billy reciprocates it and uses one arm to pat Max on the back again before holding him back by the shoulders to get a better look.
“We’re not even blood related, you dick.”
“Might as well be with this newfound sense of style.”
Max socks him in the arm again, but doesn’t disagree further.
That’s how the two keep on spending their afternoons and sometimes weekends. They do all the stuff they did before, but just with a slight vocabulary change. They’re more comfortable talking about personal stuff. Once you successfully share your gender crisis with someone, you tend to be closer afterward.
There’s one afternoon where Billy is lifting weights in the living room and Max is suffering through some stupid English assignment. Max has always been easily distracted, but this time he keeps having to pull his attention from the weights. He keeps wondering what it’s like to feel the grip of the bar or the soreness the next day. So he keeps watching Billy work out, but it’s only so long before the older brother notices.
“What? Your brain catch fire?”
“What? No. I was just wondering… nothing. It’s nothing. Go back to your stupid workout.”
Billy sets his cigarette in the ashtray and takes a couple steps toward the dining room, where he proceeds to lean on the door frame. Arms crossed and a disbelieving look on his face. The ‘i know you’re lying’ stance.
“You sure about that? It wouldn’t have you spacing out so hard if it was nothing.”
Fuck. They’ve known each other for years. Of course Billy picked up on what makes Max space out. There’s really not much use in lying except maybe if Max wants Billy to eat his homework. That worked all of once in the past, but it was hilarious.
“I just- i was wondering what it was like to lift weights. That’s all.”
“Could’a just asked, dumbass,” Billy is already dragging Max up by the back of his shirt, “ Change into some clothes you won’t mind smelling like a garbage fire. Trust me. It doesn’t wash out.”
So Max does just that. He grabs one of the muscle tanks cause that’s what Billy always wears and a pair of shorts. By the time he’s back in the living room, all the plates that were on the bar have been set on the floor beside the bench. Didn’t there need to be weight to lift, though?
“The bar weighs 50 on it’s own, so start with that.”
Max nods and lays on the bench, finding a comfortable place for his hands on the bar. Billy stands behind the bench, by Max’s head, and hovers his hands just below the bar.
“Do you have to stand with your dick practically in my face?”
“Do want me to be here in case you drop the bar and almost kill yourself?”
“Touche.”
Billy still steps back a tiny bit because yeah. Being spotted really does get close to having someone’s junk blinding you. Max lifts the bar and Billy’s hands stay just an inch below it the whole way down and back up. Max sets it back on the rack and sits up with a grin that might be able to outdo Dustin’s.
“So? You wanna do a full set or what?”
“How many is that?”
Billy shrugs. “Depends on the person, but the standard is about ten.”
Max nods and lays back down on the bench. “I’ll do twelve.”
Billy just smiles and shakes his head in disbelief at this “fuckin overachiever” because that’s something Max almost certainly picked up from him.
And it gets added to the routine. When they have “days off” they talk about stupid shit, eat like it’s the end of the world, and work out. Teenage boy stuff. And Max couldn’t be happier about it. Except for when he shows Billy the muscle definition appearing along his arms and legs. Or when that’s met with a “you’ll be ripped in no time” because even Billy can’t miss how much it means to Max.
Just like he can’t miss how much it means when they get home from school one day, just weeks after Neil kicks the bucket for being an idiot, despite his usual nature. Max comes up to Billy with a pair of scissors and asks him to cut his hair. Billy smiles and nods as he takes them. He quickly grabs a chair from the kitchen for Max to sit on so that they can do this in their weird little sanctuary that has been made of Billy's room.
Billy lets Max make the first cut cause it just feels right. Asks if they should keep the lock for memory’s sake and they do. They tie it together with the hair tie from around Max’s wrist. He won’t be needing that anymore, after all. After that, Billy works inch by inch, and snip by snip, to free his dipshit little brother from his long hair. It doesn’t look too shabby either. Shorter around the sides than on top, but still a shakeable length all around.
Billy made Max close his eyes once he got through the length and started shaping it. So the big reveal comes and Max’s eyes fill to overflowing with tears. He tackles Billy into what might be the tightest hug either of them have had and Billy hugs him back. Properly. As in arms encasing him and tucking his chin on top of the fresh cut hair.
A very strangled and muffled “I love you, jerkface” comes from where Max is tucked into Billy’s chest. He just moves his head so he can ruffle Max’s hair.
“Yeah I love yoo, too, ya little weasel.”
And sure. Maybe Max kinda starts looking like a carbon copy of Billy because of the working out and the haircut and especially all the hand me downs, but if anyone notices, they sure as hell don’t say anything because these teen boys are just about the scariest duo in Hawkins. Except for maybe Chief Hopper and Joyce Byers. The Party caught on to Max changing when he said he couldn’t meet up with them because he was gonna work out with Billy.
They may be dumb, but they’re not that dumb. And sure it took them a bit to readjust, but they just kind of did it without telling Max. Only referring to themselves and each other as the guys unless El is around and calling Max stuff like “dude”- not that they didn’t already.
Max and Billy act just alike except Billy is less constantly angry and Max is less self conscious about existing. Billy even gave him one of his jackets.
“They’re chick magnets, man, I swear. Though, they have also been known to work on guys too.. If Tommy Hagan has anything to say about it.”
“No way! You finally grew a pair? Took you long enough. What does it say about you that your thirteen year old brother got a boyfriend before you? It’s pathetic.”
“That’s it c’mere!” Billy pulls Max into a headlock and gives him the noogie of his life. Of course, Max is still a weasel so he manages to squirm out of it and they have a bit of a chase that somehow winds up in their backyard until Billy catches up and they start wrestling around the way one might expect a pair of brothers to do.
And that’s how they stay. Brothers till the hopefully not-so-bitter end. Making their lives in the shithole that is Hawkins, Indiana better. Little by little. They make this life their own instead of what Neil might have tried to shove onto them because while Max’s wardrobe has a lot of hand me down clothes, he wasn’t about to live a hand me down life.