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Steve knew as soon as he was paired with Billy Hargrove that it was going to be a long day.
Now, Steve isn’t stupid. He’s not. It’s just real hard for him to focus sometimes. The teachers all talk too fast, and with words he doesn’t understand, and he tries so hard to focus on their words that he catches none of it. He’s not stupid. He’s just not trying in the right way. If there even is one.
But Billy Hargrove? He definitely isn’t stupid. He has a gpa as good as Nancy’s, and he’s also somehow got the respect of the lowest of the low. Or highest, if you care about social hierarchy, which Steve abandoned the minute he no longer sat at the top (so sue him, he’s vain)
And somehow, Steve ends up with him for a science project.
“So, why don’t we do the outline, then I’ll stop by your place later on?”
Billy scoffs, “Only if you’re going to be picking me up. We aren’t studying there.”
Steve shrugs, “wouldn’t it make more sense for you to just come to my place once you’ve dropped Max off?”
Billy gives him a look, for a moment, that Steve isn’t sure he wants to understand. Then he nods.
“Sure, I have to get some things, so I’ll be over by 6.”
Steve nods, going back to the planning, and not understanding half the words on the paper he’s using. God, he needs this grade.
It’s half six.
Billy is late.
Normally, Steve would just blow off the assholeish behaviour, and just let Billy go, but he’s too close to graduation to be tempting fate like this, so he hops into his car, and heads over to old cherry.
The lights are on in the house, and the Camaro is parked out the front, which means Billy is in. That, or he’s just walked into the middle of nowhere. Steve knocks on the door three times, quickly.
A man with that Steve doesn’t recognise opens the door. He somehow both looks like a parent and…not, at the same time. He’s the right age, wearing the same kind of slippers that he’s seen Ted Wheeler wear on multiple occasions, and he’s wearing an expectant smile on his face. But it doesn’t meet his eye, and there’s nothing out of place. Nothing. He’s seen Mr Wheeler after sitting on a sofa. And this is not it.
And sure, maybe the fact that the parents that Steve has seen is pretty much limited to the Wheeler’s and the few holidays his parents actually show up to is a contributor to the way he feels about this man, but there is..something.
He looks off, somehow. There’s something in his eye that makes Steve want to run for the hills.
But, he wants that grade, so he clears his throat, asks,
“Hello. Um, is Billy here? Billy Hargrove? We were supposed to be completing a project together, but-“
The man sizes Steve up, looks at him from head to toe, and Steve is certain this is how a mouse feels when a snake looks at it. He knows he’s never felt like this with Mr Wheeler. Or his own dad, even though he is an asshole.
“Billy!” He shouts, maintaining eye contact with Steve.
Steve hears a door open, and uneven footsteps, eventually seeing Billy stumbling into view.
“Are you drunk ?” Steve asks, incredulous. Billy grins,
“You wish.”
“This boy claims he has a project to complete with you. Is this true?”
“Yeah.” He pauses. Looks at the man, “Yes. Sir.”
Steve doesn’t like this.
“How late are you planning on working?”
It takes a moment for Steve to realise the question was directed at him.
“Oh, not too late. Nine at the latest. It depends how long it takes for me to wrap my head around it.”
“No later than 10.” He says, to no-one in particular, “and if you can’t keep to that curfew, then don’t come back.” He says it in an almost joking tone, but Steve suspects it’s not a joke at all.
He feels the sudden urge to pull Billy away from the man. Instead, he walks to his car, and lets the other boy follow him to it.
“That your dad?“ Steve asks, when they’re both in the car.
“Yep.”
“He’s..very-“ Steve has no idea what he is, but he is very whatever that is.
Billy snorts, “he sure is.”
Steve speeds up a little, trying to put as much distance as possible between him and that man. Billy shifts in his seat a little.
“You ok?”
“Yeah. You’re driving fast.”
“I’m barely over the limit.” Steve says, then adds, “besides, out of the two of us, I’m not the irresponsible driver.”
“I’m sorry for not making it to your house. I forgot.” He says, in a tone that sounds nothing like his usual mocking one. Steve scoffs,
“Yeah, too busy drinking to remember school.”
“I’m not drunk, Harrington.” Billy says, and twitches a little.
Steve doesn’t even notice he’s sped up until Billy’s begging him to slow down, before aborting that and telling him to just stop altogether.
The moment he pulls over, Billy’s out of the car and losing his dinner all over the side of the road. Steve wonders whether it was a fever making him act weird, for a moment.
“Um..are you ok?” He asks.
“I’m not drunk.” Billy tells him, spitting into the mess.
“Ok.”
“I..need you to do something for me, Harrington. Can- would you?”
“Yeah, sure.”
Billy’s facing him then, “look into my eyes.”
Steve does, and his brain (unhelpfully) reminds him how much he loves Billy’s eyes. Blue, bright, always so full of life, mostly anger, but also something else that has always intrigued Steve.
And now he’s being asked to look in them. His heart feels like it’s going to jump out of his chest. Billy hands him a torch,
“Shine it in my eyes.”
Steve does, because contrary to popular belief he knows how to follow instructions, especially when he’s in a dire situation.
“Compare them.”
Steve looks from one to the other, and..
“Shit. That’s..I’m not a doctor, but I’m pretty sure the black bit is supposed to be the same size, right?”
Billy nods, “it’s a concussion. Caused by the brain when-“ he closes his eyes, “God, I don’t know. I should know this.”
“Why?“
“Huh?”
“Why should you know this?”
“It’s important.” Billy says, giving Steve that look again.
“Right. And you just learnt it in case anyone ever got a concussion, right?”
“Don’t be stupid, I’ve had them before.”
“How many times?”
“Three, maybe four.”
Steve scoffs, “and how did you get those concussions?“
The answer is immediate, “Fighting.”
“With who?”
“Anyone I want.”
“You let them win?“
“Outnumbered.”
“On three separate occasions?”
Billy smiles, “what can I say? I’m a sucker for unfair fights.”
“How long?”
“What?”
“How long has your dad been beating you, Billy?”
“I-He..it’s not-“ Billy sighs, long, and way too weary for a kid his age, “I don’t know. I can’t think at the moment.”
“Right. Let’s go to the emergency room, then.”
“No. We can’t. It’ll draw attention. Just take me to your house and distract me with chemical formulae.”
Steve doesn’t like that idea one bit, but the look Billy’s giving him this time is open, vulnerable in a way he’s never seen before. So he nods.
They get back to Steve’s house with relatively no issue, but the opportunity for the science project is scrapped before it even began. Instead, Steve helps Billy into his house (read: hovers over him and drops his keys three times whilst Billy tries not to collapse) and makes him soup that he insists he doesn’t need but eats anyway. It’s weird, considering the fact that they’re supposed to be mortal enemies, but it also feels intensely comfortable.
Steve makes some tea for them both, and sits down next to Billy.
“How long then?”
“Still can’t think. Concussion.”
“How did you get this one, then?” Steve redirects.
“I don’t know. All I remember is I wasn’t allowed the car unless it was for Max.”
“Why not?”
“I took it for a drive past curfew the other day. Went to the quarry and threw stones into the water. He didn’t find me, but when I came back…” Billy sighs, “and..I don’t remember how long it’s been. Since mom left, maybe. It’s not cruel though. You know that? I’m not a victim or some shit like that. I deserve it. He’s teaching me to be a better person because he loves me, not because he likes to do it. Understand?”
Steve swallows down his anger and shakes his head, “No, Billy. You’re right, you’re not a victim. But that doesn’t mean he’s not a criminal.”
“A criminal?“ Billy laughs, “he’s not broken the law once. It’s just punishment, Harrington. I deserve it. You have to understand, I need this.”
“You need to be beaten senseless?“
Billy burrows his face into a pillow, “Don’t tell anyone.” He says, simply, “No-one will believe you, if you do. I won’t support it. I love my dad, no matter what you think.”
Steve doesn’t know what to say. He knows telling Hopper would make things worse, especially if Billy follows up on this, which he probably will. But this is abuse, plain and simple. Not to mention the way Billy thinks…it’s barbaric.
But the kid on his sofa isn’t. He’s not the one who caused any of this, no matter what he thinks about the whole thing. He’s just in pain, and scared, and Steve can help him if he’s in pain and scared.
So he fills up his teacup and brings him blankets, tells him to stay past curfew here, wakes him up every ten minutes to check he’s alive, and pretends for a while that everything is ok, that Billy’s just sick and he’ll be fine tomorrow. That everything isn’t as messed up as it seems.
And for just a moment, when he’s hopped up on painkillers and buried under a mountain of blankets, curled into Steve’s side and breathing slowly with a soft smile on his face, he almost believes it.
God, what a day.