Archive of Our Own ^beta

~~ December 20th 1987 ~~

“Bah humbug.”

It’s all Billy can say when his coworker tells him to have a good Christmas. Billy’s gathering up his stuff to head home for the week, sending a sarcastically sweet smile to the man currently chuckling disbelievingly at him.

“You don’t mean that.” His coworker responds with a click of his tongue, grease on his forehead, and a sly grin on his face as if he knows Billy better than Billy knows himself. As if to say there’s no pulling the wool over his eyes.

Billy would refute him. He would like to. It would be insincere.

Because his coworker is right- Billy doesn’t mean it. In fact, Billy would venture so far as to say he favors Christmastime most of all. He did ask for the full week off, refusing to spend the rest of his holiday season in the sour smelling car garage. He figured he should get the time to appreciate one of the few things he’s always found joyful. Amid the harsh memories and raw emotions of growing up, there was always something warm and soft around Christmas. The good memories of December far outweigh any of the bad, and something about the holiday season always seemed to chalk up kind pretenses within his father. It may have been a charade, but at least it was a reprieve.

There's something curiously festive about the grayness of December. People often think the California sun never dies- that Christmas isn’t the same over there -but it still gives way to cloudy skies and drizzly days. On those days, coming home to warm socks and hot cocoa and a fuzzy blanket felt better than anything. Winter days may be dark and biting, but the jingling of bells and the promise of joy have always been priceless.

So he tries not to roll his eyes as he concedes, suddenly feeling rude for dismissing what might just be his favorite holiday. His plastered smile melts into something genuine. He turns to leave.

“Bye.”

“Merry Christmas!” His co-worker calls after him with a laugh that sounds viciously jolly and makes Billy have to remind himself why he doesn’t hate the man.

If there's one thing Billy is still a Scrooge about, it's the cold. Yes, the San Diego sun would sometimes hide behind gray clouds and rainy days, but it had nothing on Indiana weather. Billy still feels a shock when he walks out into a world of snow, crunching through it to get to his car. Days like these he wishes he was still minutes from the beach and feeling the chilly salt breeze rather than Indiana’s icy winds.

As a kid he used to dream of a white Christmas while the radio crooned lies to him about how wonderful they are. He’d stare out the car window and imagine it being just as magical as every movie ever showed it to be. Now he realizes that the only thing snow does is freeze him to his core and overstay its welcome. “Snow days off” don’t apply to mechanics who have just barely learned how to drive with ice on the road.

Still, through all his pouting at the icy chill, it’s hard not to get lost in the lights in store windows and along the edges of the downtown buildings. They just feel different when the world is covered in white. The snow sparkles as it reflects their twinkling of reds and greens and yellows. The grocery store only plays songs about Rudolph and snowmen and caroling. The little old ladies sing the songs quietly to themselves sometimes and Billy feels intrusive when he lingers so he can listen. There’s a mechanical Santa in the window of the local department store. The first time Billy saw it, he stopped for a second to stare.

It's all so warm, even for winter. Billy just wishes warm feelings came complete with a warm body to match. But he just sighs as he rushes through the parking lot, carefully crunching snow beneath his large boots and flexing his hands to get the blood circulating. He hops into his car and shuts the door fast, huffing a big breath as he goes to take off his gloves.

He pauses.

God they’re bright. He almost can’t look at them. He’s had them for nearly a whole year and they’re still as obnoxious as they were when he first picked them up.

It’s been nearly a whole year full of stress and work and frustration and confusion that Billy is sure he shouldn’t remember that day with quite as much clarity as he does. Still, it doesn’t stop him.

He tries to shake it off. He’s always trying to shake it off. Every time he slips these stupid gloves on he’s got a whole year of memories he has to shake off.

He’s more eager than ever to get home and lay down.

---*---

~~ January 1st, 1987 ~~

Billy curses under his breath as he wanders the local ski shop. He never realized just how big ski equipment was. Or quite how expensive. His morbid curiosity draws him to check various price tags, even though he knows the idea of skiing is merely a fantasy he has no intention of fulfilling anyway. Hurtling down a hill on ice shavings sounds like a good time only for the abnormally stupid. He wouldn’t do it even if someone paid him, and definitely not for any of the prices listed.

So he makes his way around, trying his best not to visibly cringe at the pristinely manicured couples as they debate over brands of ski poles, all in his search of gloves.

Because fuck Indiana weather. He’s a year and a half out of school and just barely scraped enough money to move into his own apartment in a larger city not quite as far away as he would have liked. He didn’t think places could get any draftier than that small house in Hawkins, but his new place seems to take the cake. But it’s his, and he’ll take drafty and private over anything else. He has a job, a bed, a car, a phone… he doesn’t need much of anything else.

Except for the snow to be gone already.

As quickly as possible, he reaches the gloves and their overwhelming wall display when… he feels his attention slipping. Something itches at his already loose focus, just out of sight, looming too close. It’s small, but nagging. He ventures a glance to his left.

Someone is staring at him.

And they won’t stop staring at him either. Another distracted glance over the large selection of gloves and the figure is still fully gawking his way. That itch keeps crawling over Billy, draining every last bit of his focus and building irritation up through him.

“Do you want a picture or something?” He bites out, keeping his eyes on the wall. He can feel the other guy tense up

“Uh… sorry I just…” The voice is nice- smooth though it’s shaking a bit. “Man I must be crazy. I just thought you looked familiar.”

Billy’s heart leaps at the thought.

Familiar? Who could be out here-

“I better not be.” Billy growls quietly, turning towards the guy who’s now giving a discomforted laugh that quickly dies in his throat.

Billy’s brain pauses, taking a few seconds to fully compute the face in front of him.

It can’t be…

“Fuck.” He huffs out loud, staring into the doe-like face of Steve Harrington.

And Harrington is staring right back at him, eyes all wide and impossibly sparkly. They were always sparkly, and always framed by long dark eyelashes. His lips are parted in shock, insanely pink and so soft looking and… and what the hell. It’s been months since Billy last saw him, and somehow looking at that face still brings him back to that first time he caught a glimpse of him in the parking lot. All the way back when Billy was fresh off the 3 day drive to Indiana and the smell of cows and corn left him more irrationally angry than he could describe.

He was beautiful back then and he’s beautiful now, and it still sends shots of anger racing straight through Billy’s system.

“Ohhh… shit.” Steve gasps back, his tongue darting out to lick his lips like it would always do when he was nervous and fidgety.

They stand still for a few long, awkward seconds to the tune of tired Christmas music. Billy shoves his hands in his pockets to hide the way he’s picking at his cuticles. There’s the suffocating pressure of expected conversation. Billy keeps his lips glued tight.

Steve doesn’t follow suit.

“What are you doing here?” Steve blurts out. It sounds almost rude, and maybe Steve feels the same as Billy watches a blush creep up high on his cheeks.

“What, do you own the store? Want me out or something?” Billy quips with very little bite. Still, he sees Steve bristle.

“It’s just a question.” Steve defends with an eye roll. “Are you going skiing?”

“No. I’m just buying gloves. Mine got a hole in ‘em and someone told me this is the best place to get more.”

“Well, they’re right.” Steve’s got a dumb little smile on his face at that. Billy’s heart falters.

The conversation lulls, filling the space between them with an awkward pause that feels… full somehow. Full of words unsaid for the last year or so. Billy is almost crazy enough to ask Steve for a recommendation on gloves, of all things.

He doesn’t get the chance to be crazy, because Steve is too busy being stupid.

“So uh… how have you been?” Steve asks awkwardly, mouth moving around the words like it’s the first time he’s ever asked them.

It’s stupid. He’s always stupid. Billy feels his blood run hot from how stupid this gorgeous guy is being. Why should he care how Billy has been? He’s the one that seemed to want to avoid him at all cost.

He… he looks so good. Here Billy thought Steve had fully peaked in high school. Billy was almost banking on it, as if it would get him through some rougher days. When all else failed, when he had to face the harsh reality that Steve could be nothing more than a vague acquaintance after all the insanity of those years settled down…. when Billy apologized and apologized and apologized again to everyone around him for his actions and his words and the various monsters that had their hands in his life. When practically everyone forgave him save for Steve with that strained smile of his… he figured “at least Steve has peaked”. It was always sour and bitter but it made the idea of never getting to have him hurt less. Thoughts of he’s going to let himself go and amount to nothing and it won’t even matter felt better than thinking of anything else.

Than facing this reality, where Steve got to keep his sparkly eyes and pink lips and perfectly swept hair. And where he’s in a ski shop buying expensive equipment. And where his clothes fit him so perfectly Billy might die. He hates him.

Steve licks his lips again. Billy is going to strangle someone.

“Cold.” Billy grunts in response to the inane question, turning back to the gloves with eyes that suddenly burn.

A second passes, and then Steve is chuckling.

“Am I that funny to you?” Billy hisses, but it’s not intimidating enough because Steve’s laughter won’t let up.

“Still the same, huh?” Steve ignores the question. “Poor Mr. California can’t handle a little snow.” He’s got a smug smile on his face that Billy can hear and one irritated glance confirms it. Damn is this pretty boy lucky they’re in the middle of a store so Billy can’t get up in his face to make that smirk really go away.

No, he couldn’t do that. He doesn’t do that anymore, anyway. His blood doesn’t boil the same way it used to, growing up. He’s on his own now, things are better now… his coworker’s wife is a therapist and lets him do sessions for cheap sometimes. Because she’s worried or some shit. He’s found ways to keep his cool.

So instead of balling his fists and gritting his teeth, he turns with heated eyes and a sarcastic smile.

“How did you know I was Mr. California?” Billy asks, completely full of shit with a wide grin on his face. Steve keeps chuckling, only letting it die off when Billy refuses to give up his grin.

“Wait, really?” Steve asks, face seeming to believe it. Billy pushes down the cackle building up in his throat.

“Three years in a row, baby.” He says with a wink before turning back to the display in front of him. The quicker he can find some damn gloves the quicker he can get out of this place… even though messing around with Steve still blooms that same bright feeling in his chest he swears he’s addicted to.

Steve seems to stutter. It shouldn’t sound so satisfying to hear that sound.

“I hate you.” Steve huffs out, and that shouldn’t be so satisfying, either. But how can it not be, when there’s that little chuckle in it that says something unspoken?

Billy missed that. He’s kicking himself for the way his heart is speeding up.

In some weird, fucked up way… Billy almost feels like he’s caught him. Billy can still see him in his periphery- Steve is hovering and vaguely examining the socks on the wall. The conversation could be over, all one of them has to do is give a half-hearted “have a good one” and it’s done with for months more, at least. But Billy’s not going to do it, and from the looks of it, Steve isn’t making any motion to either. It’s like there’s something left to say.

Man they used to go after each other tooth and nail. It felt like they spat every awful thing they could at each other back then. The world was red and Steve was pretty and Billy sure did hate pretty things back then. Pretty things meant untouchable things, and Steve was the poster boy for untouchable things. Even after the apologies and the bandages and the attempts to right wrongs, Steve remained just beyond Billy’s fingertips.

Well… most of the time. All except that one time.

But now Billy has caught him. Steve is trapped here, between the gloves and the socks.

“What have you been up to?” Steve asks, voice stumbling.

“Thought you said you hated me.” Billy can’t keep the smug grin off his face.

“Yeah, well, if you tell me what you’re up to I’ll know where to avoid.” Steve’s matter of fact about it, all smug and insufferable . Billy’s got a fire lighting that he thought he quenched.

“Well, I moved.” Billy licks his teeth, and maybe he’s caught too, because looking at Steve is a little too difficult right now.

“No duh.”

Billy quirks an eyebrow at him.

“Well we’re a pretty long ways away from Hawkins.” Steve offers. Billy shrugs.

“Clearly not long enough.” Billy doesn’t really mean for it to sound so snarky.

“Uh huh, sucks, doesn’t it?” Steve asks like he feels it too. As if what Billy just said wasn’t borderline insulting to him. “What else?”

Steve is fidgeting, but Billy can’t say much about it when he’s still picking his own cuticles raw inside his jeans.

He shrugs again. “Nothing much past that. Moved out, got a job.”

“Where ya working?”

“What, want me to write the address down for you so you can move away?”

Steve laughs at that, and it’s such an impossibly bright sound. Billy faces him full on now, leaning his shoulder against a shelf, face suddenly feeling like he’s just a couple feet away from the sun.

“Maybe.” Steve’s smile is too bright. Too wide.

“I’m a car mechanic.” Billy suddenly antsy to leave.

“Cool.” Steve nods simply.

It’s so simple and quick and casual and still Billy feels a shame he despises. He’s happy to have a job, and a job he thinks he’s good at too, but there’s something sour with saying it out loud. Especially to someone who seems to have gotten his shit together. Maybe Steve was flunking out of high school by the end, but he was still plenty of steps ahead of Billy in other ways. Billy would give a lot for the chance to fall back onto something cushy and nice.

“My car has been on the fritz recently.” Steve starts like Billy isn’t spiraling into himself. “I swear it’s trying to die on me any day now.”

Billy almost has to laugh at the idea of Steve’s precious little BMW kicking the bucket soon. He wonders for a second why he doesn’t just buy a new one.

“Yeah? And?” Billy prompts.

Steve just raises his eyebrows.

“I don’t do shit for free, Harrington.”

“I’m not asking for anything for free.” Steve scoffs with a roll of his eyes. “I’m asking for… you know.”

“Damn.” Billy whistles. “I knew you were stupid, but this takes the cake. You know, avoiding me means staying away-”

“Shut up, asshole! I’m just… trying to give you business.” Steve is stumbling again,

“Trying to give me more work to do.” Billy corrects as he pushes himself off the shelf that’s starting to get a little uncomfortable.

“Isn’t it good to get more customers?”

Billy scoffs. “Good for my boss maybe, not for me.”

“Well, whatever.” Steve waves him away. “I mean it, my car could use the help. Where’s your work?”

Billy thinks about it. He has to really think about it.

He figures, maybe he can tell him. There’s something far too interesting about all of this to give it up so quickly. Months of time apart and suddenly Billy feels snapped back like a rubberband. Sure, Billy hates Harrington’s guts and he’s pretty sure the feeling is mutual, but… it’s interesting to hate something and laugh at it too. Billy hasn’t felt this warm with it snowing out in a long time.

But he doesn’t like being the one who’s trapped. If anyone’s getting their hands on anyone, it’s Billy onto Steve. He can’t think of letting it be the other way around. Being held onto just isn’t Billy Hargrove’s style. No way is he putting Steve in the position to call the shots.

“It’s in the area.” Billy says eventually. Steve seems to be waiting for more.

“Well gee, that’s helpful.” Steve scoffs when he realizes Billy isn’t giving more past that.

“Drive around, you’ll find it.” It’s all he’s set to give him. He figures he deserves to keep some things for himself… and also believes there are some other things he can’t grasp too tightly, even if they’re sitting pretty a couple feet away conveniently standing under a bright blue sale sign. “Just hope your car doesn’t break down before you get there.”

Billy can’t help his grin, especially not when Steve’s face turns red with anger like it used to all that time ago.

“Yeah yeah… fuck you.” Steve bites, and it’s maybe the most bitter he’s sounded this whole time. Billy still has to revel in it.

It could be over, it could be done… but Billy takes a second longer just to cling. Maybe he even feels a little rude for taking all the questions and never giving any.

“Uh, whattabout you?” He’s trying to toe the line between disinterested and perversely curious. “Going skiing or what?”

“Oh, yeah.” Steve waves something in his hand as he gestures to the equipment on display around them. “This weekend.”

Billy raises an eyebrow. “Who are you gonna be cozying up to?”

The question tastes sour on his tongue, and he doesn’t know what possessed him to ask, but it’s got Steve looking flushed and flustered. Maybe it’s worth it for that, but maybe it’s not if he has to think about some chick Harrington has got his eye on.

“I- uh…” Steve starts, faltering again.

“Steve!” A voice calls, sounding just on the wrong side of familiar for Billy’s ears. “I told you not to wander away, you jerk.”

Steve turns and Billy glances and-

“Sorry, Robs, I uh-”

“Who are you even-”

She’s got blonde-ish hair and blue eyes that blow wide when they land on Billy. There’s a gasp of “Oh… god.” Then she looks to Steve and lets out a tired sigh with a roll of her eyes. “Geez.”

Billy only knows her as the band geek, but the names of birds float through his head briefly. Robs… Robin? He thinks they shared a class once, when Billy had flunked out of history and had to retake it. They never really talked, only ever saw each other in passing when she would hang around Steve. The two became coworkers and Billy saw her at the video store when he would go in to grab a movie or a cassette and bug Harrington behind the counter.

The faint Christmas music is working overtime to drown the silence between the three of them.

“What is this, a high school reunion?” Billy asks sourly. Robin seems sympathetically tired when she looks at him.

“At this rate maybe we’ll see Tommy Hagan working the register.” Steve says with a bitter chuckle. Robin hisses out that she “hopes not”. Billy can’t help the bubbling in his chest.

“He doesn’t even live here anymore.”

Robin’s completely unbothered face matches very well with Steve’s stunned one.

“Huh?” Steve questions with a tilt of his head.

“Tommy moved out of state.”

He eloped with Carol right out of school. He asked Billy to be a witness. Billy hadn’t been anyone’s first pick of anything sentimental in a good long while. It made his head spin with emotions. He spent the night before with Tommy, getting him good and drunk and washing away the taste of high school. Drinking to new ventures, new worlds, new lives. Then Tommy and Carol got hitched and moved out of state. Somewhere closer to the coast of the ocean instead of just Lake Michigan.

“You kept up with Tommy?” Steve asks like he’s fascinated. Billy just shrugs, shoving a tongue in his cheek, thinking of all the harsh and soft words Tommy used to use in regards to Harrington.

The silence is turning suffocating. There’s truth to the words “three’s a crowd”.

“Well, sorry to break up the little pow-wow.” Robin remarks. “I hope you’re… uh, good.”

“Uh huh… same for you.” Billy’s chest feels way too tight.

Steve is still gawking. Just staring as if there could possibly be any more to say.

“Steve?” Robin asked suddenly. “When I said I’d do this, you said you’d help me out here.”

Billy suddenly can’t find the air in the room. He’s the one being pinned now, helpless underneath all of the flooding memories of high school and Hawkins and everything he swore was over and done with over a year ago. He was supposed to be finished. He doesn’t need pretty eyes and prettier lips worming their way back into his life.

Steve blinks harshly. “Uhm… yeah, just-”

Billy rips his hand out of his pocket and thumbs at the closest pair of gloves he can reach, yanking them off the hook and sending a strained look to the two faces he hopes he’ll never have to face again.

“Have a good trip.” He pushes out by way of goodbye, turning around and walking briskly towards the counter, hearing that same sputtering from Steve grow quieter as he leaves him behind. He swears he hears a question about “is there really a Mr. California?”

“Cute colors.” The girl working the register practically coos at the gloves, ringing him up with a little smile.

Billy looks down at what he picked up. They’re atrocious. Bright orange and electric blue. He has half a mind to go put them back.

Then he remembers who’s lingering back there.

He grabs his wallet insead, paying and sending a forced smile to the girl as she wishes him a happy new year.

“Happy new year.” He says back with only half his mind, rushing out of the store to get to his car to get away. He takes a few of his calming breaths and seethes at how the air chills his lungs. His flustered nerves prickle even harder in the snow as he ducks into a coffee shop.

Now the real question is, how is he supposed to get big brown eyes out of his sights for the next few weeks?

He’s almost got the sound of that voice out of his head by humming vague Christmas songs in a light panic, car in his sights at this point, just about home free-

“Billy!” Calls a voice. Billy almost convinces himself he didn’t even hear it.

He turns.

“What?”

He’s pushing down the shame he feels at his heart racing, for fear of his blush reaching visible levels on his cheeks. Steve is standing before him, huffing like he ran for it, a large bag in his hands.

“Uhm... “ And isn’t it just like Harrington to always be yelling before thinking? “It was good to see you.”

Billy blinks harshly, letting his drink burn his tongue so he knows he’s not dreaming this. After the way they ran around each other in high school… the yelling and the pushing and the bitterly cold glances. The way Billy mellowed out and the way Steve started to joke. The way they mutually hated each other in a way that lacked all the bitter malice of the early days.

Steve is licking his lips again as Billy just stares.

The way they caught each other at a party one night, right before Billy moved. When they were both a little too drunk and a little too caught up in the heat they used to feel when they’d fight. Being drunk and angry made them handsy and… Billy learned forbidden things taste almost sweet and a little too much like sour beer. It was small, just touches that turned soft when they originally sought to bruise. Heavy breaths that were previously grunts but became a few accidental brushings of lips… and then it was gone. And Billy moved away.

And now Steve’s here again, being that perfectly untouchable thing, saying dreamy words like it’s normal.

“Okay.” Billy huffs, tongue feeling odd. He chalks it up to his scalding drink.

Steve shifts his weight.

“You look good.”

And Billy doesn’t think that’s fair- definitely not when he’s pretty sure he’s going to lose his mind. His heart leaps at the words. He takes a steadying sip of his drink, possibly enjoying a little too much that he’s making Steve wait for a response.

He can’t help it when he lets his eyes glance over Steve’s frame.

“You look good too.” Billy responds. Because he does. He looks damn good, with that nice winter coat and the pink flush of his cheeks.

“Yeah?” Steve asks and Billy has to scoff at that.

“As if you ever needed anyone to tell you you look good.”

Steve grins widely. “It’s still nice to hear.”

Steve’s shuffling where he stands, and Billy swears he can see him inching a little bit closer.

“Robin and I are just going up to my family’s cabin this weekend.” Steve’s so casual about it, as if it’s not the most privileged thing Billy has ever heard. “Just a stupid thing… we have to go clean it up or something because no one’s been in forever.”

Billy can’t possibly tell where this is going, but he nods so it’ll be over quicker.

“Do you… wanna come with? Me? Well, us, both of us.”

Billy blinks.

Something starts to stir inside him again, thinking of all the ways he’s thought of those words. All the scenarios. He’d give anything in the world to come with this guy... somewhere...

Then he thinks about sliding down a hill of ice on a tongue depressor.

“I’d… rather do pretty much anything else.” Billy rasps out.

The world pauses a second, Billy waiting to see if he’s mortally offended Harrington yet or not, but all he gets after the second passes is a disbelieving scoff.

“Alright well… if you change your mind-” Steve starts to dig around in his bag. Billy can’t help but stare with rapt attention and curious eyes. “About skiing or about telling me where I can get my car fixed…”

Steve gives a little look at that, and if Billy wasn’t burning to do something he certainly is now.

Steve has pulled out his receipt and slips a pen out of his pocket. He’s scribbling something on the back, using his thigh as a flat surface before he tears off the bit he’s written on.

“There’s my number.” His cheeks are still so pretty and pink. His lips are wet and a little chapped from how he’s been licking them. “Call me whenever.”

Billy’s never seen a slip of paper look so much like a bridge before. He grabs it.

“Happy new year.” Steve says, before he turns and walks away without even waiting for a response.

“Happy new year.” Billy mutters down at the numbers he’s holding in his hand.

---*---

~~ December 21st, 1987 ~~

“Oh come on, Steve, the one time I’m actually looking forward to something social and you’re busy?”

Steve feels bad enough about turning down Robin’s offer of going to a Christmas party without her guilt tripping him for it. He’s not going to tell her that.

“I wasn’t planning on doing anything this week.”

“I thought being a lonely hermit was my job.”

Steve rolls his eyes without thinking of how the effect is lost on the phone.

“You don’t have to go with me everywhere.” Steve’s a little irritated, but only just. “I know I’m not the only person you know.”

“Oh, of course you’re not.” Robin confirms with a light chuckle that. “That’s not the point-”

“Wait what?” Steve sits up from where he was laying on the couch, suddenly fully focused. He didn’t expect her to confirm that so quickly. “What do you mean?”

“You just said… Steve, I have other friends.” It shouldn’t hit Steve as hard as it does. “If anything, I think I’m the only person that you know.”

It takes a second for him to process it. And then he starts to feel small. Grain of sand on the beach, small.

What’s worse is he can’t refute her. He didn’t go off to college because his grades weren’t even decent enough for his father to pay his way. Not that he even wanted that. He may have thought about it. He gave up swimming when he got to high school, basketball scholarships didn’t exactly pan out… his father ignored him for a year until the whole world turned upside down yet again and Steve figured he needed the support. He went crawling back. He took a stuffy job with his father, and thus surrounded himself with people twice his age and older.

It’s lonely, having no peers around. Jonathan is at school in Chicago. Nancy is studying out of state too. They’re rarely ever in the area, and they never really seemed to be his anyway. Not his friends or his acquaintances or his anything, not really. Steve practically has to beg them to come around, and when he does he feels a little sick about it. Like they’re just humoring him when they go out to lunch or to a couple of bars.

And the kids are getting older, sure, but they still feel like kids. They’ll always feel like kids to him. Besides, he can’t take them to bars or clubs- he feels uncomfortable even taking them to parties. He visits them for big events or for birthdays sometimes. He’s excited to go back to see their graduation. That’s about where it ends.

Steve has learned there aren’t a lot of ways to win...

“I’m sorry, Steve. I really didn’t mean it like that...” Robin tries to amend, ripping Steve out of his mind.

“No… no it’s okay.” Steve mumbles, voice spilling out of him just to push the conversation along.

She’s right.

He leans his elbows on his knees, watching the snow fall outside his window, shivering a bit even though he has his heater on. It’s almost completely dark out, even though it’s only 5pm. Winter nights are too dark and too cold for too long. They’re too lonely. Steve hates being lonely more than anything. And so his mind wanders to blond hair and blue eyes and large hands wrapped around warm cups of coffee...

“Are you still there?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m here.” Steve nods though she can’t see it.

There’s a pause, and in it Steve just knows Robin’s eyebrow is raising.

“Are you thinking about him again?” She asks finally and he can feel himself sinking. It shouldn’t be so shameful. His face burns.

He just can’t answer that, and still she sighs.

“Steve-”

“We don’t need to have the talk.” Steve sighs, putting his head in his hand now. He’s got a splitting headache. “We’ve already had the talk.”

“Yeah, well I guess it’s not doing any good. Do I have to go over there and knock you over the head with something?”

His head throbs at that.

“No, thank you.” He squeezes out, strained and whining.

She’s already hit him over the head with as many words as she can muster of “do something” and “say something” and “be charming! You’re charming or something, right?”

“Have you seen him recently?”

“No.” Steve sighs, but it’s like he’s still got his bright eyes in his mind all the time. “Not since… oh man.”

Spring. It must have been spring. They’ve talked since then, but they so rarely see each other in person. Steve feels like he’s been running through the year, always racing to the next meeting, the next commitment, the next work trip… it’s like his mind has turned to mush. There’s never a moment to breathe. He was so grateful the day he switched his calendar over. Only one page left, as if the end of the year will be the end to the rat race that his life has become.

He was so sure that regular life would feel rigid and slow after everything from Hawkins melted away. Some days when work is particularly hectic, he’s almost crazy enough to wish he was back there. At least back then he felt he was doing something meaningful. Not just filling out paperwork and warding off advances from Janice in accounting.

“You haven’t called for Christmas?”

“Nope.”

“You have to do something.”

“I tried...” He has tried. Multiple times over the year. It’s too hard to win. “He’s just not interested.”

“Do you have a brain?” Robin’s voice sounds exhausted too. “Or did you lose it somewhere?”

“Hey! Jerk.” He wishes his pout could take full effect right now.

“I told you-” She’s definitely rolling her eyes at him. He can see it clear as day, especially in the darkening walls of his apartment. She’s cutting herself off, she’s so irritated. “I told you the day we saw him! He stood there and talked to you. He held conversation.”

“Yeah, and it was nothing-”

“Guys like Billy Hargrove do not stand around stuffy little shops to make small talk with guys they used to push around in high school unless they want to.”

She’s getting huffy. Steve never knows what to say to this argument.

She said this to him that day as well. They drove back to Steve’s apartment and Robin shook him down for details. Steve felt like his whole chest was opened up and exposed to the cold January air as she pressed him to tell her something. He relayed most of the conversation. He still remembers her stunned face.

“Yeah…” Steve shakes his head, trying to push all of the events of that day out of his mind. “Unless they wanna get something out of it.”

“You want to get something out of it!”

“More than that, though! More than… augh I don’t know!”

He pushes himself off the couch. The room is too dark. He needs an aspirin.

“You’re so hopeless.” Robin sighs, but it’s empathetic and caring. Still, it hurts a bit. He flicks his lights on, wrinkling up his nose.

“Hey, c’mon, shouldn’t you be a little nicer to me? Aren’t you supposed to get what it’s like?”

Since he came out to her… well, since she helped him understand what all of these feelings boiling inside of him have been since he was old enough to find people attractive, Robin has been very helpful. She wasn’t surprised to hear about his internal crisis. She gave a sympathetic smile and said “guys don’t usually look at other guys with that much… intent” as she rubbed his shoulder. And he tried to process. And he realized maybe that one time he kissed Tommy in the bathroom at their first high school party wasn’t some random drunken act after all.

It still took a while for him to really understand why he still enjoyed all that time with Nancy. Why he still gets hot under the collar for a woman in a nice dress or some good jeans.

She’s been supportive through it all. But recently she’s been so frustrated with him she seems to want to rip his hair out.

“I do get-” Robin’s cutting herself off again. She heaves a big breath. “Look, it’s scary. You talk to the wrong person about the wrong thing and it feels like it’s gonna be... game over. I mean, if I even make eye contact with a girl out in public, I think I’m gonna have a heart attack.”

Steve lets out a little chuckle at that, though he’s seen the stress Robin goes through just from wanting the attention of a girl. He always tries to help her calm down.

“But I don’t have people like… like... Heather Holloway giving me the time of day in the grocery store or some shit.”

“... Wait, Heather Holloway? You were into-”

“No-” Robin insists, out of breath and clearly flustered. “She was just hot and used to be a little cold to me and she’s kind of like Billy, can we get back on the subject here?”

Steve’s only a little bit miffed at the chastisement, unable to help but grumble out an “I’m just saying…” before she can continue on.

“I’m just saying that there’s like… potential.”

Steve’s brain is beating against his skull. The aspirin is taking its sweet time kicking in.

“Potential for what, though?”

“Anything, Steve! Anything!” There’s distress in her voice. Steve has to sit down to think about this. “More than I’ve ever had, for sure.”

They both pause. The words linger in Steve’s head and he can hear them still bouncing around the walls of his always empty apartment. They fill up the spaces in their echoing.

Anything-

“I mean it.” Robin insists, and she sounds so sincere Steve is glad he’s sitting down. He lets out a little breath. “I just think it’s not a totally lost cause. Do you know how rare that is?”

He doesn’t. But also, he might. Robin has told him in the few years they’ve been friends. She stresses and fears. She rarely gets what she wishes for. Sometimes she doesn’t even dare to wish. He’s seen those days, where she’s down and out and just so sure she’s going to go the rest of her life alone. Steve tries to assure her he’ll still be there. It usually makes her smile, even if her eyes stay a little sad.

He can’t believe that’s what all this has been about. He didn’t realize. He’s starting to feel a little bad for feeling so bad for himself.

They continue the rest of their conversation with much more ease. They talk about the Christmas plans that failed to come to fruition or the ones that he canceled out right. Talk about the year they’ve had. Talk about this party Robin got invited to. Talk about sillier things, joking things, inside things between the two of them that make Steve feel warmer than anything. Make him feel way less alone.

They get off the phone by wishing each other a Merry Christmas. Robin says she’s got a gift for him she forgot to hand over. She was expecting to give it at the Christmas party “but I guess that’s not happening.” Steve rolls his eyes and thanks her in advance, telling her to hold onto it for a little longer. She’s clearly smiling when she concedes. When she says goodnight. When she wishes him Merry Christmas yet again.

And then Steve is alone again.

He’s been looking forward to Christmas alone. More small rooms full of loud people asking him how his life is going just sounded utterly miserable. He’s been around enough people this year to want to run for the hills.

But on these long winter nights where it’s dark early and constantly cold, Steve feels like his fully decorated apartment is void of everything.

Have you seen him recently?

Steve swears he sees parts of Billy every day, whether he wants to or not. Hair, eyes, arms… he can’t believe it’s been so many months. Not since April? He can’t believe his mind can hold onto stupid images of this stupid guy for so damn long.

He turns tired eyes to his calendar on the fridge, never so happy to see a picture of evergreen trees surrounded by snow.

---*---

~~ April 17th, 1987 ~~

Steve thinks he might hate people.

All people. Every person. Nothing makes him more keenly aware of this thought than being in a crowded airport searching for his gate amid flocks and flocks of people who don’t seem to know their right from their left. It drives him crazy. Everyone rushing, laughing, yelling, whispering, yawning, groaning.

He used to think he liked people. He thought he liked everyone, back when he thought everyone liked him. It was easier back then- it just made sense to feel that way. He liked being surrounded by them. He always had so many people at his side. Parties were the best, full of people doing their own thing yet still keenly aware of his existence. Giving him smiles and hellos and pats on his shoulder.

Going back home to nothingness was a tragedy back then. But right this moment, Steve would give up pretty much anything to be curled up in his bed, and not frantically searching for the gate to his flight that’s supposed to be boarding any minute now. So he’s rushing, bag in tow, pushing past all these people he’s growing a personal vendetta towards.

He’s so excited to finally find it that he practically shoves one of those people.

“Watch where the fuck you’re going.” The guy seethes, turning on him swiftly. Steve startles.

“You too, buddy!” Steve gripes back, fire building in his chest before he can recognize who he’s even looking at.

But then he gets one good look at those blond curls and that nose he thinks he has fully memorized by now and the fire in his chest flickers. It’s a confused fire. It’s suddenly licking at all the wrong places within him.

There’s a moment of realization between them. A second of blinking.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Billy groans like he’s truly sick of him. It only hurts a little bit.

“Don’t sound so excited.” Steve teases, but he’s admittedly miffed.

Steve doesn’t know how he should feel. One look at Billy and he remembers all that time he spent wandering the city looking for every car mechanic he could find. He never happened to stumble upon the right one. Eventually he felt like a fool- he got his car repaired at some shop he swears overcharged him, but he didn’t know enough to speak against it. He just let it happen. His car was practically halfway off the cliff to death, anyway, he just needed it done.

“So, where’s the great Harrington off to, dressed like that?” Billy’s eyeing him up and down- from his collared button down to his shined shoes. Steve is suddenly keenly aware of how he forgot to put on a belt this morning. The gaze is clearly scrutinizing, but it sends heat to Steve’s face all the same. “Some fancy dinner somewhere? Nice vacation?”

Steve only briefly wonders what kind of crazy person would fly just to have dinner.

“You know,” Steve forgoes the question. “I drove all over the city looking for that car garage. I’m thinking you lied to me.”

Billy raises his eyebrows. “You actually went looking?”

Steve’s face burns. “Business trip.” He deflects, answering the previous question and resisting the urge to fidget. “To New York.”

Billy whistles low, face dropping.

“Hm, that sounds-”

“A big convention center with old men all schmoozing each other and talking about sales.”

“... boring as hell.”

“Yup.” Steve nods. And then they pause. And Steve wonders if he should leave it at that. He doesn’t have to deal with the snide remarks and smug looks, it can be over if he just leaves.

But he’s finally got him. All those hours driving around town and Billy’s finally trapped, in between gates 12 and 14. And he’d be insane to just walk away.

“So, did you lose my number or what?”

Steve feels no shame in asking. He figures if Billy really isn’t interested, he’ll say so and it’ll be over and Steve doesn’t have to think about any of this anymore. Or Steve might wallow for a bit. Or he’ll rejoice never having to deal with this big boasting idiot ever again.

With the way Billy’s eyes go wide, a little color coming to his cheeks, Steve figures that’s not the case.

“Uh-” Billy stutters, and the sound of a flustered Hargrove should not be so beautiful to Steve’s ears.

“No skiing?” Steve asks with a quirk of his eyebrow. “It was lots of fun, you missed out.”

“Skiing is fucking stupid. People die out there.” Billy asserts, but his cheeks are still pink. Steve scoffs.

“Oh so if I had asked you to… what, play basketball? You would have come along?”

“And I’ve been working my ass off.”

Steve has to chuckle. “Ah, so that explains about the car-”

“And how the hell am I supposed to know when you’re home?”

“I have a mobile phone.” Steve is fully laughing now, watching Billy get flustered. “That was my mobile phone number.”

Billy blinks.

“You’re rich huh?” Billy mutters under his breath. It strikes Steve in an odd way.

“It’s… kind of a work thing, too-”

“Well I don’t even own a phone.” Billy says suddenly, in a breathless rush. Steve halts.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, so…” Billy shoves his hands in his pockets. “There.”

The rushing of the people is so loud around them. That must be why Steve’s chest is fluttering around, racing with anxiety and a little bit of shame.

“Okay.” Steve concedes. If his face looks dissatisfied, he just can’t help it. There’s a beat. Steve fidgets a bit. “Well, maybe you can give my number to a coworker and he can fix my car.”

Billy guffaws. Steve can’t help his smile.

“What?” Steve asks, but it’s hard to get out when he’s grinning ear to ear. He can’t stop looking at Billy’s smile.

“Are you just using me for my wrenches, Harrington?” If Steve didn’t know any better, he’d say Billy almost sounds coy.

“No.” Steve puts on a little pout as he shakes his head. “There must be other tools you use, right? I’m using you for those too.”

Billy rolls his eyes, but he’s still got that smile, and Steve hasn’t felt this successful in all his days.

“I’m going to kill you.” It’s a little scary how amicably Billy can say those words.

“Please do it right here so I have witnesses.”

“How long are you in New York?”

It takes a second for Steve to realize he’s asking sincerely. Steve doesn’t want to talk about New York.

“Probably just for the weekend.” He frowns a bit. “Maybe longer if I can help it. I want to see something that isn’t an empty brown ballroom.”

Billy nods like he understands, but his eyes look incredibly dismayed.

“Where’re you headed?” Steve asks, anxious to keep talking. To keep Billy pinned down. He’s selfish and he knows it- he wants him trapped just a little longer. “Somewhere fun?”

“Florida.” Billy grunts out, voice suddenly a little gruffer.

Steve’s mind is cruel to him. With that one little word he’s thinking about who Billy could be going to meet on the beach. Or maybe who he’s taking along with him. It pulls at his chest and leaves his face feeling flushed. He doesn’t know why those thoughts would even cross his mind.

Steve hated this guy. He only aided in making the last year of high school an absolute living hell. He was loud, cruel, brash… he strutted like a peacock everywhere he went. He spat cruel words like poison. He shoved Steve in the hall and on the court constantly. He stole all of Steve’s friends and ripped away his popularity just to top it off.

He got possessed by a monster that terrorized the town.

And then he went radio silent. He went somewhere private and healed from his wounds. He emerged like a ghost and apologized profusely. Everyone ended up believing it and Steve did too, though he never said it. He was endlessly confused back then. There was always something deep inside of him that pulled when he saw Billy strut around school with a new girl or a laughing Tommy or a smug Carol. It felt wrong to enjoy the looks Billy gave him in the locker room and in the showers. And then Billy started changing and Steve thought it was for the better and it felt even worse. The sudden possibility that maybe something could happen only soured everything. It felt like maybe the mix of heated stares and fluttering stomachs and a guy who was becoming more human than douchebag could lead to something real.

It made the idea of never getting it feel sharp.

And even without his stupid crush, he knows Billy is hot. It’s never been hard for him to pick up whoever he wants. He can just imagine girls falling all over him on the sunny beach. He’s mad that he hates that thought so much.

“That’s fun!” Steve stamps a smile on his face. “Florida is beautiful this time of year. You’re gonna have a great time-”

“My grandmother died.”

Steve’s face falls.

“Oh.” He suddenly feels like a complete asshole. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

“You know, you didn’t kill her, so I’ll forgive you.”

Steve stares with wide eyes as Billy just shrugs. His face is almost blank.

“You’re unbelievable.” Steve scoffs, looking incredulously at him. “I’m gonna give you a pass because you’re grieving.”

“Oh thanks.” Billy’s chuckling, but his face is sullen. “Yeah I… I liked her. And she liked me too. So that’s always nice.”

His voice shakes a bit. Steve is nice enough at this moment not to bring it up. He sees the way Billy’s eyes shift and fall to the ground. He knows Billy has “family issues”, just like Steve has had “family issues”. Just like Jonathan has had “family issues”. He knows what it’s like- the rarity of being liked by family. Plus, he imagines a death in the family will lead to a gathering of sorts.

“Well…” Steve can’t help his fidgeting. “I hope…”

“I’ll be fine.” Billy cuts in. He gives a placating smile, his eyes urging the subject to rest.

Steve takes the hint. He believes him, too.

“Yeah.” Steve agrees sincerely. “Well I guess I-”

“Do you want to get lunch or something?” Billy asks quickly. Steve blinks.

“Here?” Just a simple question, and yet it sends something fluttering through Steve’s chest. He feels a little vindicated after all that time searching for the car garage.

“Yeah, here.” Billy chuckles, grin a little feral, eyes not quite so tired all of a sudden. “I’ve never had food at an airport, but-”

A voice flows out loudly above them, over all the rushing, calling out for passengers.

Flight 23 to New York~

The air stills between the two of them. Billy huffs.

“That’s my flight.” Steve sighs.

“Really?”

“Yup.” Steve wishes it wasn’t. He really wishes it wasn’t when he sees Billy deflate. He never thought he’d see that. “Uhm, sorry.”

He watches Billy shift his weight. Steve’s confused with himself about why he feels so guilty all of a sudden.

“Hm…” Billy grunts, and it’s all he gives for a minute. Steve is wondering if they’ve cut the line between them now- if maybe they’ve set free the other. He’s just about ready to step away when Bill reaches a hand out. “Give me your arm.”

“Wha-?” Steve blinks at him, arm raising just slightly at the command.

Billy reaches into his back pocket with one hand as he grabs Steve’s arm with the other. He cradles it close, pulling Steve a step or two nearer to him as he bites the cap off the top and begins to shove Steve’s sleeve up.

Steve is desperately hoping that Billy can’t see how the hairs on his arm are standing on end while he writes something out on his forearm.

“You just keep a pen in your back pocket?” Steve asks, voice a little higher than he wants it to be. It earns him a small, almost knowing look that’s got him feeling flushed.

“Nah, I stole this off the ground back there.” Billy murmurs around the cap in his mouth. Steve pulls a face, which puts Billy on the defense. “It was a nice pen.”

It is a nice pen. It’s smooth and ticklish on his skin. It mixes in the most intoxicating way with the pads of Billy’s fingers that burn into him.

And then, before too long and yet still far too lingering, Billy is pulling away. He lets go of Steve’s arm, grabs the cap out of his mouth to close the pen, and slips it back into his pocket. Steve’s arm is suddenly devastatingly cold.

He looks down at the numbers.

“My landline.” Billy explains, a wide grin on his face like he’s won something somehow. “When you get back, if you want to get lunch then… let me know. Hell, we can even come back here if you want. I heard airport food is a trip.”

Steve feels like he’s short circuiting.

“Uhm, yeah. Yeah that sounds fine.” Steve is breathless, words falling out of his mouth like marbles. “Nice it sounds… wait-”

“Go catch your flight, Harrington.” Billy chuckles, eyes mischievous.

“I thought you didn’t have a phone!” Steve accuses, a little louder because Billy is already backing away.

“I forgot.” Billy shrugs.

And then he turns to walk away, and Steve can’t help but watch the pen shifting in his back pocket.

---*---

~~ December 22nd, 1987 ~~

Billy comes home from a long afternoon walk to the sound of his answering machine beeping incessantly.

He groans, having to really hold himself back from taking his fists to it as it mocks him from across the room, just begging to be silenced. He hates the damn thing- his coworker got it used at some garage sale for him in what he pretended was a kind gesture but really was just a tool to beg him to come into the garage on his days off. Billy typically feels a little gross accepting gifts, but he figured he’d just take the charity. It’s helpful anyway, not so much for Billy as it is for anyone who ever tries to call him. They’re always complaining that he’s never home or never picks up- now they can berate him for it right in his own house.

He sets down his keys, pulls off his boots, opens his jacket, and stomps over to slam the button.

beep

A tinny voice comes through the speaker.

“Billy pick up your phone.”

A girl. She’s incessant. Max.

beep

“Billy pick up your phone.”

beep

“Billy pick up your fucking phone!”

He chuckles at her whispering in that last one. She’s still living at home, her mom doesn’t like when she swears, so she tries to be hush hush about it. It always makes him laugh- she’s the loudest person Billy knows.

beep

“Fine, you Grinch. Merry Christmas.”

“You shitface.” Billy hisses to the machine as it beeps twice, telling him there’s no more messages left. She knows he hates the Grinch. It used to scare him as a kid. She’s always liked to use it against him until he got in her face and growled at her to knock it off.

He dials her back. She got her own phone for her birthday this past year- something about getting good grades and getting older. Also about not plugging up the home phone with her calls to El. Billy would have given the world for a chance at even that much freedom back then. At least now he knows he won’t be getting unwanted voices at the other end.

“Hello?”

“Shithead.”

“I knew that’d get you.” Max is clearly grinning on the other end- a cat who caught her canary. It’s always a tug of war with them. “You’re too easy.”

“Shut it.” He growls, but he’s not really angry. He sets himself down on a chair. “Now what do you want?”

“Merry Christmas.” She insists, like that’s answer enough. As if that’s the best reason of all to bug him so much about answering his phone.

“It’s not even Christmas yet.”

“It practically is. And I haven’t talked to you in months.” If Billy didn’t know any better, he’d think she was pouting. It makes him smile a little.

Max will never admit it for as long as she lives, can’t even wipe the scowl off her face when Billy goads her about it in person, but she misses having him around. He was an asshole sometimes and she was a brat at others, but they had good moments. They grew up together. They got along sometimes and more so near the end. He’s not even shocked she misses him around- some days it felt like he took care of her more than Susan or Neil did, with the way they’d run off to date nights or shopping trips.

He thinks about poking at her some more, but he gives in instead.

“Yeah, alright. Merry Christmas.”

“Thank you.” She’s smug about it. “Now are you coming to the Christmas party, or not?”

“Or not.” Billy says plainly, twiddling the phone cord in his hands. He wishes he had grabbed some water or a beer before he dialed back. He thinks maybe he can reach the fridge if he carries the machine with him…

“Why?” Max all but whines. He rolls his eyes, maneuvering the phone to rest between his ear and shoulder as he picks up the receiver. “It’s just gonna be The Party. And Hopper and Joyce keep asking about you.”

“Still?” Billy asks, trying to sound like he’s just tired and not breathless with the thought of that.

When they found out what happened with him back in the summer of ‘85, they nearly went berserk with worry. Billy had never expected such fear… not for him. Hop checked in on him when he saw him around town, Joyce always gave him food when he went to pick up Max. He’d be invited in for a hot drink, offered a place to rest, given a listening ear. He almost felt like a freak, for a bit, before he could be convinced that he deserved some kind of kindness.

“Yeah, Joyce doesn’t even believe me when I tell her you’re alright.”

“Well tell one of her kids to convince her to quit worrying.” Billy grunts, heart tugging just a bit, finally grabbing a beer out of the fridge.

“Alright fine but…. It’ll be fun!”

“I’m not trying to do shit this week, okay? I’m taking a break.” He finally sets everything back down, opening his beer on the edge of the counter.

“What, you’re gonna sit in your apartment all alone?”

“Yes, a break.” He grunts around the lip of the bottle. “What part of break don’t you get?”

“C’mon, you never do anything!”

“Don’t pull that. Did you forget summer already?”

Max’s birthday falls in the summer. She pined and yearned for San Diego and Billy thought about how he had money and a couple weeks off because the garage got infested with rats that had to be taken care of. He was planning the trip before he could think twice, and they went out to Cali on vacation.

“You wanted to go too, y’know? You can’t hold that over me forever-”

“Yeah, and you can’t pull this shit on me anymore.” She’s always telling him he doesn’t do anything, not the same as he used to. It never sits right with him- makes him feel boring. Since when did he become boring? “I did something-”

“One thing!”

“-and now I don’t wanna hear it ever again.”

“Jerk.”

“Brat.”

“Loser.”

“Shitbird.”

“Shut up.”

He chuckles. She says he’s too easy, but she’s just the same. Her buttons haven’t changed after all these years.

The conversation lulls. He nurses his beer, perfectly fine with the pause. The two of them have mastered comfortable silence over the awkward years of learning to live with each other.

“I think Steve might be there.” Max says eventually, making Billy catch his breath.

Steve. Stupid Steve. One mention of his name and Billy is just burning in all the ways he absolutely despises. He hates that he imagines Steve there, and can see it clear as day in his mind. Steve in the warm lighting of the Byers home, standing near the Christmas tree, eggnog in hand, laughing at some stupid joke Dustin has told him. Probably wearing a hideous yet cozy Christmas sweater. Maybe remarking how he likes the particular cheesy Christmas song that’s playing in the background. Billy hates how he second guesses everything he’s just told Max, just for the opportunity to see the reality of that scenario.

“I’m not going.” He says again, though he’s quieter now. He means it, even if it almost feels like he’s forcing it out of himself.

“Billy-”

“Just enjoy the time with your friends, alright?” He sighs, before picking on her a bit. “Needy. I don’t have to be there.”

“Fine. I was just trying to be nice, so you’re not alone.”

“I like being alone.” He’s convinced himself so, at least. The way his empty apartment chills him down to the bone should have no part in this. “I’ll come down for New Years or something.”

There’s another break. Billy takes a much needed sip of his beer.

“Is it just because you didn’t get me a Christmas present?”

“No Maxine,” Billy rolls his eyes. “That’s in the mail.”

Her sigh sounds far more frustrated than it should be upon hearing she’s getting a gift. “Fine.”

“Goodbye Max.” He jeers.

“Merry Christmas, Billy.” She’s sincere, and maybe a little disappointed.

And he does like being alone, he really does. It’s of no relation that he has to immediately put on music when the line goes dead because the silence hurts his ears.

---*---

~~ August 11th , 1987 ~~

The phone rings, and with that first little chime, Billy is seeing red.

The garage is closed and he is not helping exterminate a bunch of rats. He does not get paid enough for that shit. He’s told his buddy Todd that and still he’s calling him every five minutes to ask for his help. Just because Todd got the short end of the stick and got stuck with it doesn’t mean Billy needs to be dragged along. He doesn’t get paid enough, especially not to do this shit while his skin is lobster red and slathered in aloe vera.

He beelines for the phone, wincing at where his elbow has to bend to bring it up to his ear. He never should have answered the first time- now Todd knows he’s here and he can’t just ignore him away. He never should have even left California, at this rate.

“Stop calling me, yes I’m home, no I’m not leaving, no I’m not helping take care of those damn rats. Alright?”

“Yes sir…”

The person on the other end sounds sarcastic- and maybe a little shocked. It makes Billy halt, blinking and trying not to think about how that voice makes his stomach flip. That is not Todd.

“Harrington?” He asks before he can even think of the validity of it. He did give him his number, right? All those months ago, in the airport. He can hardly think that far- the months have been rushing too fast since then. “That you?”

“That depends, are you gonna yell at me like that?” Comes the voice again and truthfully it should not sound as beautiful as it does.

“Maybe.” Billy says, a grin splitting his face with the thought. If it gets more “sirs” out of him, maybe he would. If it gets him behaving. His mind goes to dangerous places.

He can hear Steve scoff on the other end, and can just imagine the pretty little blush that must be spreading across his cheeks.

“So…” Billy starts, suddenly feeling a lot more like playing than he did before. “Did you lose my number?”

Steve’s laughter is distant and static on the other end of the line. It’s still perfect.

“I guess it’s my turn to say it now, right?”

“That’s how conversations work, Einstein.”

“I’ve been swamped at work.” Steve says with a little sigh.

Billy nods. It just feels a little too convenient. He wonders if he sounded just as unconvincing back in the spring.

“Oh really? And you’re suddenly free? Sure you didn’t just lose it?’’

“I did not lose my own arm, no.” Steve huffs.

Billy remembers how Steve’s arm felt in his hands- skin soft, muscles strong underneath.

“What, you haven’t showered since March?” He can’t help but to cackle at the thought.

“It was April, and shut up.” Steve hisses. Billy can practically see the frustration on his face. “You make it so hard to like you.”

The last part is like a confession, it’s so quiet. As if it was said under his breath. If Billy gasps, he only hopes Steve couldn’t hear.

“You like me?” Billy means it as a joke. He’s not prepared for the way his heart flutters just from the words leaving his mouth.

“I’m going to Lake Michigan this weekend.” Steve rushes out, obviously tired and obviously trying to get Billy to stop talking. “I’m taking my boat out for the first and probably last time this summer, and… I was just…”

Billy has to wonder sometimes if Steve is aware of the words that come out of his mouth, and the way that they sound.

“Just?” Billy prompts, mind still firmly attached to the thought of owning a whole goddamn boat.

“Did you want to come with me?”

Thoughts run wild and colorful at that. The idea of a boat, with Steve, out on a lake, at the tail end of summer… bright and sunny and joyful. Billy can’t find any words in him.

“It’s usually nice.” Steve’s voice floats back through the phone. “Have you been to Lake Michigan?”

He hasn’t. He’s been to the ocean- his ocean -and that’s it. He hasn’t seen anything grand or exciting since being out on the other side of the country. He barely got to see the ocean when he went down to Florida, only just barely in passing on his way to the funeral.

“It’s…” Billy starts, and stutters to a stop. What even are lakes? He’s never seen a lake. He tries again. “Anything like the quarry?”

Steve laughs.

“Nothing like the quarry.” Steve sounds smug and Billy would love to want to wipe it off his face. Instead, he feels something that’s oddly like shame. “You’ve seen nothing if you’re expecting the quarry-”

“I grew up by the ocean, you moron.” Billy bites, but he still feels himself blushing. Thank God they’re on the phone.

“Okay well… whatever, Mr. California.”

Billy snorts at that. His blood cools.

“The lake is huge...” Steve continues on, voice a little quicker. Billy is starting to feel like he’s not reacting the way Steve wants.. “Maybe even up to your standards.”

There’s a pause again. Another lull full of swirling thoughts and Billy is thinking about how insane this all sounds. He thinks this can’t possibly be the right time to be questioning whether he’s worth this offer or not. It doesn’t stop it from skidding across his mind.

“And it’s a nice boat.” Steve’s voice sounds far away… and maybe even nervous, if it can be believed. “You’ll be happy to know, there are no rats in it.”

Billy’s mind is so many miles away from where he’s sitting right now, but even the mention of rats has him shuddering violently.

“... so?” Comes Steve again, a little quiet.

“So what?” Billy gruffs.

“So, do you want to come with me or not?”

Oh, Billy would like to come with Steve somewhere... he wonders if that thought is just always going to permeate his mind any time he thinks of the stupid, cocky, handsome…

He’s burning for it- burning at the chance to be with him like that, at the idea that he’s being offered this at all, at the hope that maybe something could happen-

His skin burns, too. Like hell on Earth. He rubs at the aloe on his arm with a wince.

“Or not.” He answers bluntly.

“Oh.” Why does this feel so shameful? “Why? Got better plans? Work swamped?”

“Uh…” Billy stares down at his red skin. “Yeah, work.”

The sound of Steve’s scoff sends something sharp through Billy’s chest.

“Uh yeah, wow, real convincing.”

“I mean it.” Billy growls, but clearly isn’t heard.

“What, are you afraid of the lake or something? Does a little water scare you?”

“I lived by the ocean.” Billy could bite his head off.

“Uh huh, okay, so what, is it the boat?”

Billy death grips the phone. It threatens to fall from his still slippery hands.

“You know you’re real pushy for someone who used to hate my guts.” Billy is snarling now, not even wanting to contain it. “You’re sounding a little desperate.”

“It’s okay to say you’re afraid of a boat-”

“I’m not afraid of a boat, you idiot!”

He went on a boat once for a field trip, back in middle school. He didn’t quite enjoy the experience but there was also a kid ralphing every 5 minutes so there was a disadvantage from the start.

“Then what are you…” Steve starts and stop himself. Pauses. Takes a breath. “You don’t still hate me or something, do you?”

It’s a joke. It’s definitely a joke. Steve even chuckled as he said it… but for some reason Billy can’t breathe anymore. He can’t talk. He just remembers words that were shouted and looks that were given and how many times they met each other with fists.

He doesn’t hate him. It’s so much easier to respond to someone he hates… and Steve is the only one who never fully accepted his apology, how could he be worried about Billy hating him?

He just can’t talk.

“Wow… huh.” Steve sounds so wounded. It’s infuriating. “Well thanks. I hate you too.”

“Shut your trap, you sound like a chick.” Billy hisses back at him. He’s not sure how one guy can manage to be so insufferable.

“Look, at least come up with a good excuse. Or just be straight and tell me how awful it sounds or…. whatever.”

“You’re so stupid-” Billy’s growling. Rolling his eyes. Wondering how this guy can be such an idiot.

“Yeah, whatever. You’re the one who asked me out last time.”

“Asked you out?” His heart lurches. “For lunch, yeah, what a special occasion-”

His mind is whirling, wondering suddenly how he came off, if he’s really the desperate one in all of this. And yeah maybe he meant it that way, maybe there’s been a bit of flirting between the awkward tension, but Steve isn’t supposed to say it.

There’s a huff on the other end of the line.

“You’re such a jackass.” Steve says like he’s been let down and it only gets Billy more riled up.

“And you don’t know what the fuck you’re angry about!”

“Just say you hate me still and we can be done with it.”

It’s probably a little irrational, just how angry Billy gets at that. He has to remember to breathe or else he’s going to start taking his anger out on his pillows. There are few things he hates more than being blamed or punished for something he hasn’t even done. And here Steve is, making him feel all guilty for something he hasn’t even said. So the fuck what if he hasn’t refuted? It’s not Steve’s place to blame him in response.

“You know,” Billy growls, teeth clenched. “You make it hard to like you too.”

“Great!” Steve sounds far less than thrilled.

“Goddamnit you’re annoying.”

“Back at you, man.” Steve mumbles and Billy is suddenly wondering how he, himself, could be such an idiot.

It slipped away so fast. Steve was just inviting him out to a boat with him. His boat because of course he owns a damn boat. He was inviting him to have a good time. To spend time with him. Just the two of them even? He’s not even sure, but even the thought has him spinning. Steve, who stopped looking at him for at least 3 months, is suddenly inviting him places. Out of the city. Onto a lake.

“Fuck, I’m…” Billy does feel like a jackass. He hates that feeling. “What do you want huh?” And Billy really is the desperate one now. He knows it. And then he mumbles, because his chest just can’t bear to say it: “I’m… I’m burnt to a crisp over here.”

There’s a pause. Billy holds his breath.

“What are you whispering about?”

“I’m…” He sighs again. Grits his teeth. This probably shouldn’t feel so physically painful. “Sunburnt…”

There’s a brief pause, and Billy waits with suspended breath.

“Did you forget how to open your mouth or something?” Steve ends up asking and Billy is going to smack somebody.

“I’m red as a goddamn lobster!” Billy all but barks, cheeks burning hot and he’s not sure if it’s his sunburn or his shame. “Is that what you want to hear?”

Another pause. It’s definitely his shame.

“You what?”

Billy feels damn near insane at his relief in hearing the anger completely absent from Steve’s voice.

“I went to San Diego last week.” He explains, painfully slowly, hoping maybe he doesn’t have to say it all. “And I…”

He can’t say more, and he doesn’t have to, because Steve is already gasping.

“No way.”

“Shut the fuck up.” He seethes, but is definitely not heard because Steve is cackling right into the phone.

“You got sunburnt?” He gasps between breaths. “No way. You’re full of it!”

“You think I’d lie about this shit? I’m covered in fucking aloe right now.”

Nothing could shut Steve up now, not as he loses his breath to his laughter.

“I’m going to murder you the next time I see you.” Billy groans, all in vain. He can’t believe he’s become all bark and no bite. Something a little sick and weak inside of him wants to laugh at himself as well, for how ridiculous this all is. It feels kind of… fluffy.

“You can’t keep threatening me like that.” Steve says, voice still a little breathy from his laughing fit. “I think it’s unhealthy.”

“Well, I’ll apologize to my therapist later.”

“You’ve got a therapist?” Steve sounds genuinely curious. Billy doesn’t know if he should be proud or affronted by the shock in his voice.

Talking about it doesn’t sound like the right move right now anyway.

“Your boat’ll probably be lonely without me, huh?” Billy jabs, though it’s far from biting. “Or are you inviting all your other friends out there too?”

“Oh yeah, you’re not special. I’m getting all my closest friends like… 55 year old Dan from marketing.”

Billy chuckles, but there’s something sad in Steve’s tone that makes it feel wrong.

“Sounds like a great time.” Billy can’t smile anymore.

“Oh, it’ll be the party of the year.” Steve isn’t smiling anymore either. Billy misses hearing the lightness of his voice

Steve sounds so much like a kicked puppy. Billy is filled with the overwhelming urge to apologize. He feels he’s done something wrong, maybe like he should have just said yes?

“Well… I hope that aloe starts working.” Steve offers up lamely.

Maybe next summer? When do you come back? Maybe we can go out sometime?

“Don’t get sunburnt on that boat of yours.” Is all Billy can force out of himself. He balls up a fist and presses it to his forehead.

“I’ll be sure not to…” Steve is speaking slowly now, picking his words carefully. He’s probably got that little pout on his lips. “You be careful not to slip and fall. You’re probably like a slip’n slide right now.”

Nevermind all that, and nevermind the way Billy gets a little hot because his brain is distracted thinking of other uses for those words- no, he’s gonna kill this guy before they can even get that far.

“Shut up.” He grunts. And they say their goodbyes. And Billy has to wonder if everything in adult life is meant to feel this slippery.

---*---

~~ December 23rd, 1987 ~~

The day before a holiday is like sitting in purgatory- anticipation and nerves for a big day ahead. An arbitrarily exciting day that everyone has decided is special for some reason that suddenly feels so far removed. Eating meals that feel magnificently unceremonious and dull, knowing a large and for some reason far more extravagant one is coming just around the corner. Just 24 hours away.

The day before the day before a holiday that has been for some reason declared just as exciting as the holiday itself is… asinine. At least, that’s what Steve feels as he bites into his very mediocre ham sandwich and stares at that nice bottle of wine that’s taunting him. He bought it for himself, for Christmas. He figured he’d still celebrate, even if it’s alone. But suddenly he feels that 1:35pm on December 23rd is far more worthy of a pick me up than 7pm on the 24th or the 25th.

He’s almost convinced himself to just walk over there and pop the cork, when his phone snaps him out of it.

“Hello?” His mouth is full.

“Hi Steve!” Comes the cheerful voice of Will Byers. Steve still isn’t over how wonderful it is to hear a smile on that kid’s face. Some days he figures, if that kid can still smile, everything will be just fine.

Then he remembers what he may be calling for, and he thinks maybe he ought to be nervous.

“Uh… hey kiddo!” Steve’s grateful his fidgeting can’t be seen over the phone. “How are ya?”

There’s the briefest pause, but it only takes that half second for the air to go flat.

“... You’re not coming, huh?” Will asks with a voice that seems to already know the answer.

Steve breathes out a small sigh. He’s not sure how the Byers always know, but the Byers always know. They must get it from their mother- that all-knowing trait that gives Steve the willies.

But he can’t think too hard on that, settling for a sigh instead as he hears a rather high pitched chorus of: What?! before all of a sudden there’s a full group of voices expressing very loud, very chatty disappointment through the phone. It sounds like a fight for who gets the opportunity to hold the phone and complain the loudest.

Steve holds the phone away from himself.

“Geez,” he hisses, “is it D&D night or something?” The whole Party must be yelling into his ear right now.

“No.” Comes the voice of Lucas, getting a little louder. “We were just getting ready for the party tomorrow-”

“And realized you haven’t RSVP’d yet!” That’s Max, sounding so much like her brother. Step-brother. Nothing takes away from the fact that they both share a viciously nagging nature.

“Oh, you guys meant that?” Steve gets up to dig through the pile of papers on his coffee table, coming up with the invite they sent. It’s sparkly with “snow” and has a cursive request for an RSVP written inside. “I thought you just picked up the wrong card at the store-”

“No, this is very serious Steve!” Dustin’s voice calls out.

“Yeah!” Mike now, whiny even though his voice just keeps getting deeper with age. “Our first serious party! Since we’re getting older.”

Steve chuckles at how cute they are, and the way holding so much pride over this. “Oh wow, you’re such adults now. Throwing a party at the Byers house.”

“Be nice!” Comes El’s chastising voice. He gives in, though he’s still got a smile on his face.

“Sorry, El.” He means it, though he can’t help his chuckle.

“So you’re not coming?” Lucas asks.

“No.”

“Is this your official RSVP?” Dustin asks now, all business.

“Yes.” Steve nods, beginning to feel pretty silly. “This is my official RSVP.”

“Why?” Dustin all but whines and Steve just has to laugh.

He’s not sure what his next line is supposed to be, but he sure feels like he’s kicked their puppy down the street. What is there to say to that?

“I’ve got other plans!” Is what he settles with. It’s easier to get out of his mouth than explaining all over again about how the greatest gift for Christmas would be to do absolutely nothing.

“Plans?” Dustin scoffs in offense. “You made plans after we invited you to our party?”

There are many disgruntled voices announcing their disapproval all at once before someone, Max, asks: “Is this like when you were busy during Halloween?”

He thinks back to Halloween.

“It’s not.” He says distantly.

It’s nothing like Halloween.

“Hmph.” Max grunts. It’s lighter and quieter but the tone of it is just like her brother. Maybe Steve looks for him everywhere. He’s started to convince himself of it.

“It’s not!” Steve defends, and he feels ridiculous having to do it.

“What’re your plans?” Max is clearly disbelieving.

“Well, I’m gonna make myself dinner. Uh, lay on the couch… maybe watch It’s A Wonderful Life or some shit.”

These are all things he’s considered. He’d mark them on his calendar if he gave even half a shit about the days as they pass. He’s still just happy to see the calendar is almost finished.

“You sound like a grandpa.” Mike mocks.

“Hey!” Steve is indignant at that.

He hears El chastising the boy then, hissing another “be nice!” that Steve feels oddly grateful for.

“Steve?” She asks suddenly.

“Yes El?”

“You sound like a grandpa.”

And he laughs. Loudly. He clutches his heart like he’s been wounded, though he knows they can’t see him.

“Ouch!” He whines out dramatically, all for show. “You know, it still hurts, even if you say it sweetly.”

“We’re going to have hot cocoa!” El continues on, gushing now with what Steve is sure are sparkles in her eyes. He can just picture them. “And it’s been snowing, but there’s not too much.”

Steve remembers the Decembers in Hawkins. Shoveling was like torture, and the cold was biting and bitter and cruel. But sitting by their large window upstairs, where he could watch the flurries swirl through the air and meet in the pine trees surrounding their backyard… he yearns for it now. The view outside his window just leads to the brick wall of the apartment building across from him.

“It’s really pretty here.” El insists. Steve smiles just a bit.

“I’m sure it is.” He knows it is.

“You’re sure you don’t want to come?” She asks, and there’s chatter again outside of her voice.

“I’m sure.” He stands his ground. “I’m really tired.”

“Lame!” Mike yells, and the bickering starts once more. There are voices telling him how much he’s missing out, how it’ll be so fun, how he promised and he’s going back on his word. That’s definitely not true- he was very careful not to promise anything of the sort, specifically for this reason.

“Sorry guys.” He sighs out. “You’ll be fine without me. And I’ll come back for New Year’s or something? Deal?”

He figures that’ll hold them off till then. Hopefully by then he’ll have a better excuse to stay home. They seem to take it, because everyone is sighing out their acceptance.

“Well…” It sounds like Max’s voice, faint in the background. “The mistletoe plan is completely dashed…”

Before Steve can think too hard about that, Will is speaking again.

“Hey Steve, it’s okay.” He sounds so comforting. So much like his mother. “They’ll be fine. I hope you have a Merry Christmas.”

“Thanks kid.” Steve’s genuinely grateful for it. “Hey uh, what’s the mistletoe plan?”

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little curious, even though it’s mostly just to poke fun. He laughs at Will’s sudden stuttering with a flustered voice that “uh, bye!” over the phone before hanging up.

And with that, the line is dead, and Steve just chuckles as he finishes off his sandwich.

---*---

~~ October 31st, 1987 ~~

If there’s one thing Steve can be grateful for when stranded on the side of the road at 10pm, it’s that Ferris Bueller wears layers.

He’s got an extra jacket on too, bundling it a little tighter around himself as he kicks at the tire of his car absentmindedly. It’s not doing much to get it to start, but it sure is keeping him occupied as he waits for AAA.

Halloween is a strange time for him now. He remembers ‘84, when Fall swung back around and dug its clawed hands into their lives once again. He remembers Nancy and Jonathan talking about something Joyce had mentioned- the anniversary effect. Something Will’s psychologist had used to explain away the trouble that turned out to be far too real. Steve still thinks it’s true, especially when October comes up on his calendar and he feels his stomach twist up into knots. When he watches the Halloween decorations go up and his heart sinks deeper and deeper.

That year feels like it’s centuries away now. When he tried to tell himself life could be normal again, if they just tried a little harder. But then everything he thought he knew started to disintegrate so rapidly his eyes blurred. He’s been told not to let stuff like that get the best of him. He’s been told to just forget about it. He’s trying his damnedest, but he just can’t help it if walking through the Halloween aisle sets his heart racing.

And he was actively trying to make better memories this year, too. Every year since, Halloween comes and goes and he gets drunk and blinks the nightmarish figures away. It’s not necessarily effective. Which is why this year he sought to do something fun, so he could have something to look back on that was better than everything back then. He was excited for it, too.

Damn it’s cold.

He’d sit in his car, but his legs had started to cramp and the man on the phone told him it’d be easier to find him if he stood outside. So he’s watching the cars pass, cursing them for the cold air they push past him, and wonders if he’s grateful or bitter over the fact that he’s in a city now. If this was Hawkins, where everyone knows everyone, he’d probably already be picked up by some family friend or the kind neighborhood grocer.

Out here in the city, cars are passing without so much as a glance his way. He’s found himself to prefer the city most of the time, though right this second, when he has somewhere to be, he’d gladly take the friendly grocer.

And maybe sometimes the darkness frightens Steve far more than he could admit to anyone. Maybe it makes sick and sinister things crawl down his back when he thinks about the shadows and what could linger within them. But right now, it’s all just boredom.

“’M’in the Twilight Zone uh… always feel like… somebody’s watchin’ me…”

He’s pacing, humming along to a song blasting out of a car going by, when something louder and shriller shocks him out of his stupor. An incessant beeping sound.

“Oh- shit.”

His phone. Maybe it’s AAA again?

He digs through his car, pulling out his cellphone down near the bottom of the seat where he dropped it, answering it’s ringing as quickly as he can.

“Hello?”

“What the hell, Harrington?”

And then Steve’s heart sinks. He leans over his car, resting his head on his arm as it lays across the top.

“Uh… hi-”

“Where are you?” Seethes the voice of a very angry Billy Hargrove. “I’ve been here for forty fucking minutes.”

Shit the time slipped away from him fast. He knew he was late, but…

“Well?” Billy pushes, and all Steve can do is sigh.

“I’m trying! I- well…” He looks down at his car, the keys hanging uselessly in the ignition. His hands still feel the pressure of having to push it here after it stalled out in the street. He sighs- it’s a losing battle at this point. “I tried.”

He did leave late, but he doesn’t have to admit that. He was also too nervous to drive as fast as he could for fear that it would kill his car quicker. He’s wondering now if maybe the risk of getting there faster would have been worth the reward of actually arriving before his car bailed. He can’t say he’s an expert on any kind of locomotive. He’s just happy his baby was able to stick around for as long as she did.

…

It’s oddly silent on the other side of the call.

“Past tense, I guess. Probably won’t make it… but I really did try.” Steve says again, borderline pleading into the phone. He hears a loud sigh. “Uh… hello? You there?”

Billy seems to take a very large breath.

“I’m trying…” Billy begins, voice strained. “Not to threaten you.”

He takes a second’s pause. Then Steve is bent over laughing. He can damn near feel the restraint in Billy’s voice.

“Well uh!” Steve says between his wheezing. “At least that’s progress, I guess!”

Billy just grunts on the other side.

“Good boy.” Steve teases, wishing with the life of him that he could see how it must burn Billy’s face red. He hears a strangled noise come in fuzzily through the receiver and he feels a little too proud over it.

There are a few labored breaths before Billy is speaking again.

“Where are you.” His tone is flat. Steve chuckles, even though he’s feeling a little disheartened again.

“I’m on the side of the road. My car gave out about halfway there.” Steve kicks at his tire again. “I’m waiting on a tow.”

“Your car is still giving you shit?” Billy sounds both incredulous and disturbed. “Why didn’t you get it checked, dipshit. It’s been a damn year.”

“I did! I got it fixed way back in like… the start of February? It lasted a while! But it kicked the bucket tonight.”

“What’d they say was wrong?”

“I dunno, he said a lot of things. I didn’t understand any of it.”

“Ha!” Billy full out guffaws, smacking his lips a bit. “Bet you got scammed, bucko.” Billy sounds like he’s grinning.

“I know I got scammed.” Steve groans, leaning against his car and watching the cars drive past. “I just don’t know how badly.”

Steve still remembers way back in January, when he did his damnedest to… well to do something. He’s still not sure what subconscious goal he had in mind, only that he couldn’t let Billy just walk away looking like that without trying to do… something.

He snorts, remembering January and how far away it feels.

“Why don’t you just buy a new one, Mr. Moneybags?” Billy asks, and Steve doesn’t want to call him bitter, per se, but that certainly didn’t sound sweet. “You’ve got a boat but you can’t afford a car?”

Steve scoffs. It’s the typical argument that drives him nuts.

“Look, my family is rich, but I’m not. Alright? Sometimes that’s a big difference.” Steve huffs. “And I got that boat from my uncle who died last year.” His family is still a little sore over it, but Steve wasn’t surprised when it went to him in the will. His uncle always liked him and invited him out on that boat over the summers to go fishing. No one else ever entertained his outdoor endeavors. They’re some of Steve’s brightest childhood memories.

“Hmph.” Billy says and that’s all there is.

“Besides,” Steve continues on with a scoff. “I’m not going to abandon my baby like that.”

He rubs at his car gently.

“Where did you even go to get it checked?”

“Some place called uh… Crazy Carl’s?”

“What?” Billy chokes. “You’re joking.”

“No, I’m pretty sure-”

He stops, because Billy has started cracking up laughing.

“What’s so funny, huh?” Steve’s irritation leaks through his voice as Billy only laughs harder.

“That is not your baby if you’re taking it to a place called Crazy Carl’s-”

“It’s what I could find!” Steve crosses his arms in a huff. His car lasted almost the whole year, clearly they did something right…

“Would you take a human kid to a place called Crazy Carl’s Hospital?”

Billy’s got a stupid smirk on his face- Steve can hear it. His face burns a hot red.

“...No.” He concedes, but he’s bitter about it. “But that’s different!”

“Uh huh, so that’s not your baby-”

“I would have taken it somewhere else.” Steve is playing snarky now, too. “You know, somewhere I could actually trust, but…”

He trails off at just the right time. The other end of the line is still silent. And then-

“What, you saying you trust me?”

All of that sass seems to have bled out of Billy’s voice- if anything he sounds a little awed. It takes Steve aback.

“No, I’m saying I…” He starts, trying to be facetious, but he suddenly can’t find it in him. It lives and dies in his throat, realizing- “Uh…”

“What?”

Steve has to chuckle, a disbelieving and small sort of thing. “Nothing, just… yeah. I am. Saying that.” He says it like he’s admitting a deep, dark secret. One affirmation and something is stirring deep in his chest.

If he thinks about it for even a minute, he’ll get lost in how strange it is.

“Huh.” Billy says, distractedly, sounding as though he’s in the beginnings of being lost as well.

It’s a bit of a wonder, really, just how far away 1984 feels.

Billy is chuckling suddenly, and Steve finds himself joining in. It’s all a bit comical- this whole rat race of a year has been like a parody of life, all on its own. They’ve really beat the bush to death.

“I was gonna cuss you out for bringing your shit luck into this.” Billy admits with his chest, and Steve has to laugh at the honesty. “But I’m thinking we’ve both got shit luck.”

“Yeah, you can’t blame only me for this.”

“Well, I can.” Billy supplies, and man is he an asshole Steve thinks with a chuckle. “But I won’t.

“Oh, gee thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

It’s stupid, and yet Steve still laughs with Billy joining in.

“You’re such an asshole!”

“So you’re not gonna make it?” Billy asks, voice suddenly serious in a way that sobers Steve up.

“I can’t. I was gonna call a cab but… I’ve gotta wait for them to come get my car.”

“Dammit Harrington.” Billy gruffs, but he’s not angry at him. Steve knows he’s not- or, more like he’d know if he was. It still gets him defensive, if only playfully.

“It’s not my fault, man!”

“I’m just gonna go in there and bag some chick. Make use of all this time I wasted.”

The words sour Steve, and quickly. They grate on his ears and have got him thinking of things that make his blood boil. Billy could do that. He could walk in there in whatever stupid, half-assed costume he must have on that shows off way too much skin for a brisk night like this and get any girl tripping over herself for him. Could have her singing his praises by the end of the night. It wouldn’t take hardly anything at all.

Except that… and Steve doesn’t know how it’s gotten to this point, but he knows that Billy wouldn’t. He hasn’t seen Billy enjoy the company of a girl in any way that wasn’t painfully platonic in… like… ever.

So he lets the green monster inside of him fade away on its own. And he just laughs silently to himself. And he says: “No you’re not.”

And Billy doesn’t argue. Doesn’t even say a word. He’s silent on the other end before he’s sighing.

“I hate you.” Billy’s voice comes through a little muffled, like he’s leaning his head on something. Probably his arm. He’s probably in a phone booth right now, wasting money on this call. Steve squirms a bit at the idea that Billy Hargrove spent money just to speak with him- didn’t just up and leave like he could’ve. Wanted to know where Steve was, be sure he wasn’t going to make it before he left…

And sure, maybe he’s still saying those things. Still talking about holding back threats and the want to cuss him out and “hate you” and “shit luck” and “dipshit”. But he’s saying them like they’re sweet on his tongue. He’s saying them like he’s playing nice. It sets Steve’s heart fluttering.

“Hate, huh?” Steve asks through his grin. He’s staring dazedly at the lights of the cars as they drive past.

“Yeah.” Billy says into his ear, and why does his voice sound so warm? “You make me come all the way out to this stupid party and you’re not even here.”

“What, is it not worth it if I’m not there?”

“I…” Billy revs and sputters out. “I don’t know any of these dorks.”

It’s lame to Steve’s ears, and even just a twinge sad. He wonders where that high school guy with the big bravado disappeared to.

“Uh huh.” Steve still can’t help the grin on his face. He just can’t help but feel he’s got him where he’s always wanted him. “Don’t tell me they don’t have any alcohol for you.”

“They’ve got eggnog.”

“Wait, eggnog?” Steve is almost offended just from hearing that. “In October?”

“They’re psychos.” Billy hisses into the phone now, like one of them is liable to hear him, even though Steve knows Billy is huddled near a payphone. He can hear the cars honking and driving past, not in sync with the ones passing by where Steve is leant against his car. “How do you know these people again?”

“I… well I guess I don’t really know them…” Steve’s got a bit of shame at having to explain. “They’re a friend of a friend… of a friend.”

A week or two ago he got caught up with one of his neighbors when they were both on their way down the elevator. She’s nice enough, though she sometimes makes goo-goo eyes at him, and she mentioned how her friend’s boyfriend would be throwing a Halloween party and how he should tag along. The thought of going alone made him ill- then he figured maybe it was a good chance to take Billy up on that offer all those months ago.

The line goes quiet again. A car goes past.

“You dickhead.” Billy catches Steve off guard with it. “You set me up.”

“Wha-I-” Steve sputters at what he considers a very serious accusation. “I didn’t!”

“Making me drive across town for some… friend twice removed’s party.”

Steve can’t contain his chuckle at that. “Well wait a sec-”

“I bet you’re not even in a costume.”

“Hey, don’t pull that on me!” Steve shoots back, suddenly feeling very defensive as he pulls at his sweater vest. He spent a lot of time shopping to find a good replica. “I am too!”

“Oh yeah?” Billy asks in what starts to sound like a leer- almost like he’s licking the phone. Steve doesn’t want to think about how Billy would probably lick a payphone with no questions asked. “Whatcha wearing then, huh?”

Steve’s not sure that’s supposed to sound so… seedy. His skin feels a little hotter.

“Come on man-”

“You’re not dressed up.” Billy says plainly and Steve is pouting now.

“Fine.” He huffs. “Guess.”

“Alright.”

Steve pulls at his jacket a bit, looking down at his clothes to describe them like he didn’t put them on himself.

“White t-shirt, patterned sweater vest, leather jacket, uh… slacks-”

“What the hell are you saying?” Billy’s gruff voice gets him to pause.

“What?”

“A sweater vest? The fuck are you supposed to be? Tom Cruise going to a yacht party?”

It’s facetious and stupid and just downright offensive, if Steve is honest. That’s why he begins to cackle.

“Shut up, dude.” Steve groans breathlessly. “I’m Ferris Bueller! C’mon-”

“No way.” Billy is chuckling now, and it’s warming Steve up as much as it’s irritating him. “First of all, you saw a movie?”

“Ha ha.” Steve is completely deadpan. “Y’know, it wasn’t funny the first 10 times you joked about it.”

“Yeah whatever.” Billy is smiling. Steve wishes he could see it. “I’m not surprised you liked that little pretty boy.”

Steve rolls his eyes at that, though his whole body flushes at the nickname. “Well what are you then, huh?”

“I’m a Halloween icon, baby.” Billy all but purrs. Steve doesn’t bite. “Freddy Krueger.”

“Ew, that guy in that slasher movie?”

“You saw it?”

“Uh, the first one.”

It was back in November of 84, when he was really crawling out of his skin to feel normal after a second year of nightmares filling his life with dread. Not to mention he was still reeling after his break up with Nancy. He got a girl and took her out to see it, having always been a major advocate of scary movie dates. He figured she’d cuddle up real close to him, but it just ended with him running out of the theater to yack in the parking lot. His date was not impressed.

“That shit was gross, man.” Steve can still see the blood spewing all over the room. A painful shudder rolls through his body.

“Aw, does little Stevie get queasy?”

“Shut up.” Steve seethes, getting a little woozy just from imagining Billy in that god awful striped sweater. He wonders if he’s wearing the hat. Is he carrying around knives? He’s getting a little twisted up just thinking about it, so he pushes it out of his mind. “Honestly I’m surprised you wore a costume at all and didn’t just go as a douchebag in a leather jacket again.”

“Ouch.” Billy hisses like it stings. “Hurting my feelings, babe.”

And it’s not fair of him to say stuff like that like it’s normal.

“Are you drunk?” Steve asks with a crack in his voice. Billy gags.

“No way. I’m not getting drunk off eggnog, that shit is gnarly.”

Gnarly. It’s so stupidly endearing to Steve’s ears. He thinks about how they could have been there together. How they both could have complained about the eggnog to each other. How they could have ditched out early and taken a walk and maybe huddled close…

It’s been a year, and Steve keeps feeling like he’s grasping at the air to catch something in his hands, even if it’s just stray bits of things he’d rather have whole.

The conversation is screeching to a halt. He feels desperation rise up inside of him.

“Uh-” He stutters as he starts, clinging to the other end of the line and hoping he stays there. “So, maybe we can go for lunch? Like we said we would?”

It’s quiet. But there’s light breathing. Okay, still there.

“I’m around for the rest of the year.” Steve keeps going.

Cars pass loudly, and in a bright blur.

“I mean, I’m heading back to Hawkins for Thanksgiving but… are you going too? Maybe we can meet up-”

“Steve.” He hears his name, but he’s too distracted, watching as a truck pulls over to his side of the road, coming slowly near him. It’s his tow.

“Oh-”

“Steve…”

“I think the tow truck is here-”

“Steve.”

Steve’s heart jumps straight into his throat at the sound of his name from Billy’s insistent voice. He nearly chokes on his own spit.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think…” Billy’s voice is quiet, and somehow guilty. Steve holds his breath. “I think we should just give it up.”

That’s not what he thought he’d hear.

“Whaddya mean?” Steve is fidgeting, eyes drifting to the truck as a man gets out with a clipboard.

“It’s been a year.”

And Steve’s mind is racing with sure, yes, but-

“I think maybe we just… cut it off.” Billy’s so matter of fact when he says it. Like it’s the only logical answer. Steve’s not sure how he’s meant to respond to logic like that right now.

There’s no way to counter this, not without coming off like a child. Without seeming desperate. Maybe he’s been desperate… for a whole year now he’s felt desperate. But he was finally getting his hands around something, he could feel it.

“I-” He tries, but a voice cuts him off.

“Harrington?” It’s his lift.

“Uh, yes, that’s me. Just give me a second, I’ll be-”

“Just get your car towed, Steve.” Billy says, and his voice is warm and there’s a chuckle in it and-

“Billy-” He wants to tell him something, he wants to get some more words in before everything falls away again, but the words coming to mind disappear in his mouth like mush.

“Happy Halloween, Ferris.” Billy laughs. It’s bittersweet.

“Goodnight-” He gets in, just before the line goes dead.

He sighs.

And when he falls asleep that night, it’s with confused dreams of men in striped sweaters and dumb hats who’s grins are far too wide and toothy and intimidating. He wakes up in a panic, unsure if he wants those visions to keep going or to end.

---*---

~~ December 24th, 1987 ~~

Billy is overcome with just how festive the holidays feel when there’s snow floating down from the sky. By the way the streets are bustling with friends and families taking morning walks through the snow. From the music that lilts through the air from everywhere all at once- apartments up above and random cafes that are still open and cars as they pass.

He’s happy.

He feels bitten and chilled right through his chest, a little hollow as he walks the streets and watches families laugh together… but he’s happy. Three-fourths of the way there. Halfway, at the very least.

He’s got a cup of sweet coffee and a brand new pair of earmuffs he got from Max that he opened early and his ugly gloves that he just can’t seem to replace.

It’s fine. It’s better than fine. He trudges on home, suddenly eager to get out of the cold snow and away from the warm laughter that’s constantly within earshot, so he can truly feel fine.

The day passes by with Billy at home on the couch. The laughter of his neighbors throwing a party next door makes his drafty apartment feel even draftier. He spends more time than he’d like to admit people watching people from the window. He tells himself that the peace and quiet is exactly what he needed- that no, the stupid “party” at the Byers house with all the little twerps of Hawkins’ local nerd brigade would not have been better than this. Not even close.

There’s the light clinking of silverware heard through the thin walls, set to drown out Billy’s own, slow attempts at making a dinner for one. He puts on a record, then another. He seasons his turkey and laughs at the sight- the smallest his local A&P could provide for him. Billy never was the type to go wasting food. Then into the oven it goes, dressed and seasoned and just as eager as him to be warm.

He’s proud of himself- all alone and in his own place. With his own food. Everything just about ready, a little over 20 minutes more left for the bird, getting everything set for a wonderful dinner for one when…

Where’s…

He checks the fridge. Cabinet. Table. Stray grocery bags.

Shit.

He’s grumbling now, and continues to do so all while he shoves his feet back into his boots, bundles his jacket back around his already chilly frame, and hikes back out into the snow. There’s an all night grocery not a block away from him. He finds himself thankful as hell that the owners don’t celebrate Christmas when he picks up a can off the shelf and steps into the single check-out line. Among the other lonely men, all claiming themselves to be fine.

But he’s really fine.

He’s just peachy. There’s no one on his mind, and certainly no one who even needs to be. The whole year is better off being forgotten, in his opinion. No need to quarrel still with the stress of it. Of everything that this year has been. No need to think about doe eyes or soft brown hair or laughter that rings sweeter than any caroling bell.

He’s just fine, he’s…

He’s…

He’s losing his mind. He’s seeing things.

The man in front of him is familiar. Far too familiar, but it couldn’t be… it just couldn’t be. Not at his local corner store. Not here.

He looks away. He looks back. That’s his coat… that’s gotta be. Who else walks around this neighborhood in such a nice, bright blue coat.

He blinks hard. Once. Twice. He realizes this may be the last moment to forget about this year and let it slide off his back. He could let this guy in front of him, familiar or not, walk out a mystery and have it be that. He doesn’t have to engage in even one more thing for the rest of the year.

He takes the plunge into being crazy.

“Steve?” He asks, and then the man turns around, and Billy lets out the most embarrassing sound from his throat.

“Billy?” Steve asks, voice sounding a little raw, probably from the cold. He blinks at him. “You’re kidding.”

“You’ve gotta stop stalking me.” Billy pokes, fingers gripping the can in his hand firmly to keep himself grounded. Steve scoffs, though there’s that gorgeous grin on his face.

“Uh, I was obviously here first.” Steve gestures to his place in front of him in line. “So maybe direct that comment to yourself.”

Billy rolls his eyes. He bites his lip to keep his smile at bay before it totally breaks his cool.

“So, what? No fancy Christmas parties for you?”

Steve shakes his head, sighing a bit. “Was it that easy to tell? This doesn’t look like fancy Christmas party attire to you?”

Steve spreads his arms out then, offering Billy a chance to get a good look at his very nice coat that covers the top of a pair of gray sweatpants with slightly mismatched boots at the bottom to round it off. Billy can’t help his cackle.

“I think you’d be the belle of the ball, princess.” Billy grins, voice low. Steve’s face blushes red so prettily.

“Enough.” Steve hisses out, before he heaves a small sigh. “No I uh… turned everything down. This year was kind of a mess, I wanted to take Christmas easy.”

And boy does Billy understand that. He gives a heavily sympathetic nod, offering an “I feel the same.” in response.

“Yeah?”

“Mmhm.” Billy nods. “Some guy has been making me chase after him all year. Tired me out.”

Steve’s mouth quirks up at that.

“Oh?” He asks, eyes dancing with humor. “Sounds like a real asshole.”

“Yeah, well he’s hot, so…” Billy begins and ends, voice quiet once again but he knows he’s heard because Steve’s smirk grows wider while his ears grow redder. It’s disgusting how pretty it is.

There’s a beat of amused silence between them, all smiles and two knowing looks.

“Whatcha buying?” Steve cuts into the silence, eyes falling to Billy’s hand as he lifts his hand up to show off his can of cranberries.

“No way. You too?” Steve asks, laughing in disbelief as he holds up his own can to match.

“Damn and you got the branded shit and everything.” Billy whistles lowly as he reads the bright label.

“Duh,” Steve scoffs. “What even is this?”

Steve’s skinny fingers are reaching out for Billy now, grabbing his can out of his hand to inspect the knock off label.

“We can’t all be rich boys like you, Harrington.” Billy laments, just the slightest bit bitter. “Some of us have to settle for the stuff we can afford.”

Steve steps beside him then, turning the label to show to Billy.

“They spelled cranberries wrong on the can.”

Billy looks down at the label and blinks.

And in a second, they’re both overcome in fits of laughter. It consumes them, ringing between them, one holding onto the other as an anchor as they fall victim to their overwhelming giggles.

They fade into just smiles, the two of them staring at each other, and Billy realizes in a second: he’s got him. Right here. Almost a full year ago he just barely got a grasp on him and now here they are, with Billy holding onto Steve in his strong grip.

They blink.

“I haven’t even started cooking yet.” Steve starts suddenly, looking down as he hands the can of cranberries back to Billy. “So dumb.”

Billy’s heart is racing. He lets go of him to grab the can back.

“My stuff’s basically all done.” Billy’s nonchalant about it, tossing the can between his hands a bit. “Just waiting on my turkey.”

Steve’s eyes bug out. “You left your apartment with the oven on?”

“Don’t blow a gasket there, Bambi.” Billy says with a chuckle. “My oven barely gets hot enough to cook the damn thing anyway, I think it’s fine.”

“You moron.” Steve chastises, eyebrows knitting with worry.

“Cut it out.” Billy shushes him and his worry up. “I’m just saying, I’ve got hot food at home…”

He’ll spread it for two. With the way Steve’s eyes sparkle, even through his concern, Billy knows for certain that a lack of leftovers is nothing compared to wanted company.

Steve watches Billy intently, as if trying to parse out the offer to be sure it’s true. To be sure it’s real this time- as if he’s waiting for some evil serendipitous moment to break them apart again. It doesn’t come. Slowly but surely, a smile grows on his face.

“Sure.” Steve answers brightly. “I mean, someone has to be there with you, in case your apartment is burnt down.”

Billy rolls his eyes before grabbing onto Steve’s wrist as he goes to put his can of cranberries away.

“Nuh uh, we’re buying your fancy branded ones.” Billy asserts, instead dumping his own misspelled cranberries onto the nearest shelf.

Steve’s laughter is the most beautiful sound.

Billy shouldn’t feel so warm just from watching Steve pay for cranberries that the two of them are set to share, but it turns his chest molten.

The walk back to Billy’s apartment is short, and loud, and warmer than Billy has felt all day. And if anyone were to ask Billy before this night about “Christmas magic”, he’d be quick to deny any such thing. However, when they make it to Billy’s apartment and he watches Steve’s face light up in wonder at the fact that “you only live three blocks away from me? Are you fucking serious?”, he’s pretty damn sure that Christmas magic has some validity, somewhere. Especially in a long awaited kiss over cheap wine, a ridiculously small turkey, and brand name cranberry sauce.