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Billy knew that the worst part about his anxiety was the way it made his stomach feel.
It couldn’t be helped. It had started when he was a kid, almost immediately after his mother had packed up and left. He could vividly recall standing in front of the phone and staring at it, his stomach clenching and twisting as he mustered up the strength to pick up the receiver and call.
What if she doesn’t pick up this time? What if she says she doesn’t want to come and get me? What if she found another son to love?
Racing thoughts always lead to a stomachache; left his insides twisting and uncomfortable.
And although he had stopped calling her years ago, had stopped hoping that one day she’d come back and rescue him, his stomach stayed the same. It dropped when he heard his dad storming down the hall to his room, twisted whenever he received an invite to a party, clenched whenever he kissed and touched another boy, cramped when he received a low mark in his classes.
It wasn’t until he met Steve Harrington that he finally felt something new in his stomach: butterflies.
Billy knew he was a goner the second he’d laid eyes on Harrington. That head of messy-yet-perfect hair, his big doe eyes, his pouty lips, his jawline. He loved how expressive Steve’s pretty face was when he felt annoyed and frustrated at him, but what he loved more was how over time, those glares and grimaces had softened into longing looks and warm smiles.
He’d claimed Steve months ago; grabbed a handful of his ass and kissed him in front of the Harrington house, where inside Steve’s parents had been preparing for another business trip. The soft whimper Steve had pushed into his mouth - along with his tongue - told Billy everything he needed to know and they’d been inseparable since.
Billy tried to think back to another time he felt the sensation of fluttering butterflies in his anxious stomach, but came up short. Steve had been the first.
He’d been a few of Billy’s firsts: first real apology, first true forgiveness, first person to tell Billy ‘you have a choice’ in that honeysuckle-sweet voice, first boyfriend, first love.
First absolutely heart wrenching, euphoric, never-wanna-be-without-you kinda first love.
It made Billy ache in the sweetest way.
And the thing was, Billy was used a certain type of ache by now. It didn’t make it any better, no, but at least he knew how to deal with it. Calming breaths, gentle rubs to his stomach with the palm of his hand, telling himself it’ll pass, and if he really needed it, a walk around the block.
It was a quiet Sunday on the brink of summer, a warm early evening, when Billy had to leave the house or else he was sure his stomach would twist itself shut. He was impatiently waiting for a call from the Hawkins Community Pool, as he’d gone for an interview a few days ago and had been told that he’d get an answer on the following Monday. He’d been suffering for days, pacing around the house and in his room with a racing mind.
He knew he’d get the job, he was more than qualified, but if he didn’t - then he was kinda fucked. There would be no way to pay for gas for his Camaro, no way to put money away for his move back home after graduation, no fucking escape from that house on Cherry Lane.
So, he stormed out to his Camaro and left, since his dad and Susan weren’t home and Max was visiting her friends. His stomach was upset the entire drive to Steve’s, so upset that it made Billy grimace and shift in his seat as he tried and failed to get comfortable.
When Steve opened the door, his brown eyes curious and wide, Billy greeted him quietly and they shared a quick kiss in the doorway - a casual intimacy that Billy always craved.
Yet it didn’t do much for his stomach.
“You okay?” Steve murmured as he wrapped his arms around Billy’s shoulders, kept them close as Billy pushed the front door shut behind them. It was sweet, how Steve worried about him and doted on him.
Billy considered telling a half-truth, or even lying, but he knew better. Steve would find out the truth eventually. So, he gave a small shrug and glanced away from those inquiring eyes.
Steve knew about his anxiety. Knew that Billy struggled with it, but he didn’t know about his stomach troubles only because Billy kept that under very tight wraps from everyone.
But there was no hiding it this time, not when his stomach clenched and cramped so hard he grimaced again and doubled over a little.
“Billy—“ Steve’s voice was full of worry, his brows furrowing as he bent down a little to look at Billy’s face, to see if his boyfriend was alright.
After taking a moment to compose himself, to steel his nerves, Billy finally whispered, “…my stomach.”
“What about it?”
“It…hurts.”
Steve’s brows furrowed again, deeper this time, “Like…like you have a tummy ache? Or something worse?”
Billy straightened with a scowl, placing a hand on his stomach as he glanced away from Steve again, muttering, “Both.”
“I’m not sure what that means, baby.” Steve’s voice is gentle, patient, but still had that edge of worry. Billy loved him.
Loved him so much that he was able to look into those brown eyes again, figuring that he probably looked so goddamn pitiful because Steve leaned in to kiss him all sweet and gentle before muttering, “Go upstairs and get comfy in bed, I’ll be right up.”
It’s not a hard order to follow, not at all, so Billy goes. He unbuttons his jeans and slides them down his legs, leaving them forgotten on the floor as he steals a pair of Steve’s shorts to wear before climbing into bed. As much as he liked to tease Steve about his ‘princess bed’ that had inches of thick foam on top, Billy was thankful for it now as he sank into the mattress with a sigh - his stomach still twisting.
The familiar scent of the bed made Billy relax, even turned his head to inhale the scent of Steve that was there, until he heard his boyfriend coming up the stairs and entering the room.
When Billy looked over, he froze. Steve was rounding the bed with an armful of things: a hot water bottle, a small can of ginger ale, various VCR tapes, and a familiar bottle of pink liquid.
Steve smiled down at him as he began to put the items down on the bedside table, saying as he did, “I got everything you might need or want - although I don’t know if you’ll like the movies I picked out,” he chuckled softly.
Billy blinked like a total idiot for a few seconds, piecing together the fact that Steve had brought him things to help with his stomachache. Things to comfort Billy, to soothe the pain his own mind had caused, because that’s just what he did to himself. And while he caused it, he was never nice to himself about it, didn’t try to soften the effects with warmth and Pepto Bismol like Steve did.
He was so used to dealing with it on his own that Steve’s help almost seemed outlandish. Yet, he didn’t stop Steve when his boyfriend pulled the comforter down just enough to gently press the hot water bottle against Billy’s stomach. The warmth seeped through the thin fabric of his shirt easily, through his skin and to where that ball of anxiety lived in his stomach.
“How’s that?” Steve hummed as he pulled the comforter up to Billy’s shoulder again.
Unable to vocalize anything, Billy just nodded, staring up at him with wide blue eyes.
Steve sat on the edge of the bed, smiling down at him like a fucking angel, and asked if he wanted a sip of the ginger ale.
Billy wasn’t sure what good that would do but he nodded anyway, sitting up a little as Steve cracked the can open and handed it to him. The bubbles settled in his stomach gently, and paired with the warmth of the hot water bottle, it was…nice. Calming.
But he needed more than that.
“Could you…lay down with me?” He asked quietly as he settled down into the bed again. It wasn’t the usual bratty tone he used when he wanted to get Steve to do something for him, and his boyfriend quickly picked up on that, if the way Steve quickly rounded the bed said anything.
Billy felt the covers lift as Steve climbed in, felt the press of Steve’s chest against his back as the pretty boy pressed his entire front to Billy’s back, effectively spooning him. The warmth on his stomach paired with the warmth of Steve against his back, kissing the nape of his neck, was heaven.
And he felt his stomach untwist itself, a little.
“Better, baby?” Steve murmured as he nuzzled at the top of Billy’s spine.
“Yeah,” Billy finally muttered in a breath, closing his eyes as concentrated on his breathing, letting himself relax his tensed muscles one by one. He all but melted into the bed and against Steve within minutes, his stomach beginning to settle.
A few more moments passed before Steve quietly asked, “Did you eat something that didn’t agree with you?”
It’s an innocent question. Totally understandable to ask given the circumstances, but Billy still gave a bitter laugh. “No,” he muttered, his brows furrowed.
Used to the sharpness that came with Billy Hargrove, Steve didn’t back down, asking, “Then what?”
And…Billy couldn’t not tell Steve. He’s told him about his anxiety, about his shit father, about his mother, so why not this? “I…” he began, hesitated, before opening his eyes and whispering, “My stomach…gets upset, when my anxiety gets really bad. That’s all.”
“Oh,” Steve muttered against his back, “Like…it’s a side effect?”
“Yeah. I guess.” That was probably the best way to put it, really.
They laid there for a quiet moment, both processing the fact, before Steve shifted up onto his side and leaned over to kiss Billy’s cheek and temple. “Don’t worry, I got you,” he muttered sweetly, so sweet it almost made Billy’s teeth hurt, “Want me to rub your tummy?”
There were no questions, no asking for an explanation, no judgement - just an urge to help and Billy was relieved. Steve knew how to take care of him and Billy would let him. So, he nodded his head quietly and closed his eyes again when he felt Steve’s hand slip behind the hot water bottle to rub gentle circles on his stomach.
Billy dozed off like that, tucked away so cozy and loved with Steve pressed behind him. And when he stirred awake, Steve still holding him close and asking how he felt, his stomach was soothed and calm.