Chapter Text
Steve was slipping.
He was slowly sinking into an abyssal pit of darkness, every day further away from the shallow surface of the tumultuous sea that his life had become. Steve couldn’t really remember the feeling of being… well, of being. There was just thing emptiness clinging to his skin all day long, and he had no idea what happiness really, truly felt like anymore. He stopped feeling it since... He had no idea, actually.
Maybe since his parents stopped pretending they cared.
Maybe since his spectacular fall from the top of Hawkins High.
Maybe since Barb.
Maybe since Nancy had stopped looking at him.
Because she isn’t… She doesn’t even look at him in the eyes when he whispers that he loves her. She is cold and distant, pulling away from him more and more. She looks burdened, and he knows it’s only a matter of time. Steve knows what that means. Her behaviour. He’d seen his parents act exactly like that around him, around each other, for him to catch on what was going on. He wasn’t stupid- well, not that stupid.
He knew she was going to crack soon, that the pressure was going to make her explode, that she’ll break his already bruised little heart, and he’d have to pick up the pieces alone. Again. Nancy was going to leave him a wreck in the storm that was his life, and never look back to see what damage she had done. It hurt, thinking about it. But the pain would soon become numb, just like every time. He would feel agony for a few days, then a biting heartache, and finally just feel… nothing. Nothing at all.
No one stayed with Steve, he was only some kind of bus stop where people spent time before embarking for a greater journey. Something more than him. He didn’t know why he thought it would have been different with Nancy.
Because she had been the first one to make him feel something else than numbness and apathy since he was twelve, that was why.
It was a quiet, silent thing: drowning.
Nobody really understands it until it’s too late. Nobody comes to save you until it’s too late. Nobody could fight that wet choking sensation that was slowly killing him. Not even him.
So, Steve was slipping. Big deal. But who cared? Steve didn’t, his parents certainly didn’t give a shit, and Nancy was going to rip open his chest and shatter his heart to oblivion in a very, very close future. He could just feel it. He had keen eyes for that sort of things. It would devastate him. It was going to set him on fire, and he’d just let it burn with silent screams because nobody could hear him, no matter how loud he cries for help. Steve would just pick up the ashes of what remained, and… move on.
As usual.
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Nancy broke his heart on Halloween, at Tina’s party, right in the middle of all their friends, in the middle of every single soul Steve could have been mean or nice to. Right in the middle of hell. He was in the spotlight, even if nobody really understood what had just happened right now. They would learn soon enough. By Monday – sorry, by tomorrow night -, everyone would know. Steve was going to be the Fallen King who got dumped by the Prissy Princess. He was just being dramatic, but whatever.
He pushed and fought his way into the crowded house, escaping wandering hands and desperate drunks as fast as he could without making eye contact with anyone. He probably looked possessed right now, but what the hell. Who was going to complain? Steve hadn’t felt like himself for a long time. He couldn’t fucking breathe, it was too loud, too hot, he couldn’t- He managed to stumble his way out of the house, not without taking the time to dump Nancy’s drunk situation on Jonathan’s lap, because Steve wasn’t fucking dumb enough to miss the way they had been exchanging lingering glances full of unsaid words. Maybe they hadn’t realised themselves, yet, but Steve had, and it was skinning him alive. He had told Byers to go get his grildfr- ex. His ex-girlfriend, because apparently, he was bullshit, everything was bullshit, they had killed Barb and he didn’t care, and it was just fucking bullshit-bullshitBULLSHIT.
He ran down the stairs of Tina’s porch, taking the time to bend over to try and get his breathing to work normally for a second, but the cold, crispy air of October was burning his lungs with how hard he was trying to inhale back the mental breakdown threatening to make him collapse on the ground, right down on Tina’s fucking driveway. He had to get to his house. He needed to escape from this place.
“Harrington, is that you?”
Steve heart leaped out of his throat, jumping out of his skin, and he snapped his head around to face-
Oh great.
Billy. Fucking. Hargrove.
Standing there in all his tanned, blond glory.
Ah fuck no.
The guy had his vest wide open in the middle of autumn, seemly unbothered by the freezing temperature, and Steve had to wonder if people from the more southern areas just felt like it was summer everywhere they went. He knew people who lived in colder environment usually weren’t as affected by the drops of temperatures- that Canadian dude he met in this Quebecer ski resort two years ago, just walking around in shorts and looking absolutely unbothered by the blizzard raging on the mountain, had been a shocking view -, but Hargrove was pushing it. Hargrove was still covered with beer, or spit? – why was he so shiny? Steve was uncomfortable -, his abs and pecs on display like he was trying to show off. Because he totally was, and Steve wanted to die right now.
The guy had very much tried to intimidate him earlier that night, basically jumping like a madman over furniture to get right into Steve’s space, moving like a was water between the drunk bodies of stupid teenagers. The blond weirdo had stared at him like he was trying to read his mind or something. Steve had had no idea of what he wanted, but whatever Hargrove wanted, the arrival of Tommy, fived seconds later, had ruined everything, and then Nancy had run out to the kitchen, and Steve hadn’t wanted to leave her alone in a house full of drunk teenagers.
Nancy was a cute girl, and things happened at parties sometimes that he just didn’t want to happen to her. He had brought her in the bathroom, after she had spilled the punch all over herself when he tried to keep her from falling into an ethylic coma, and he had tried to help her, but she had pushed him away.
Turned out to be the moment where she’d finally explode and blast a hole in the place where his heart was supposed to be.
“What the hell ‘re you doing here, amigo?” Steve blinked, his pain and tears becoming a distant problem in favor of dealing with this new, sweaty... muscular... one.
Why? God, why?! Why did the first soul he had to encounter right after his drunk-ass girlfriend dumped him had to be Billy Hargrove?! Steve’s life was trying to fuck him over, that was why.
Goddamit.
“I could ask you the same... Amigo.” He shrugged, glancing around.
Did he sound like he knew what was happening right now?
The guy was weird. He looked angry. All the time. He always appeared one wrong word away from killing everyone around him. And they were alone right now, the two of them. Amazing. If Hargrove was to kill him and drag his corpse in the woods, nobody would even know. Perfect! Ignore that- Steve needed to get his shit straight.
“I don’t see your little fan club out here. Getting tired already?”
Hargrove and his family had been there for a week, and they – mostly him – were all this town could talk about right now. It was pathetic how much time people had to lose, and how much lame life was in Hawkins, Indiana. When you didn’t know this place was a portal to hell, it was dull. Hargrove had just become this new, shiny toy everyone wanted for Christmas.
Steve had almost gagged when he had heard the moms’ of children he used to watch drown in the public pool talk about the Californian boy like he was a porn star or whatever. Steve knew those women hated their lives and were in need of something else than this white, apathic bubble that was Hawkins, but Jesus Christ! Hargrove was younger than him, for God’s sake! They were adults!
Mothers!
WIVES!
What the fuck was their deal?
Steve had felt dirty for Hargrove all day after he caught wind of the lewd comments Nancy’s mom had said to her friends about him, but that blond dumbass didn’t look disturbed at all by the lusting from the women of all ages in this goddamn town. He was probably used to it, giving his whole... thing. It’s not like he was trying to hide, either.
The car, the music, the looks.
The attitude.
Hargrove was just a glorious bastard, wasn't he?
The first time Steve had seen the guy come out of his stupidly loud Camaro, it had been so aggressively dramatic, and for no good reason, that the brunet had had an existential crisis about the whole ‘King’ persona. That Californian had had every-thing to be King, and he had not disappointed. Hargrove was just the exact thing Hawkins had been waiting for, the perfect distraction from the monotonous existence of the residents of Indiana.
Steve’s own distractions resided in the knowledge that nine-feet tall, flower-head monsters just ran around at night to eat the first unexpecting victim left alone on the side of a pool-
Girls were basically dying to get into his pants, drooling anytime he’d walk in the hallways, and Steve wasn’t jealous. Like at all. The laser-focus attention he had been getting from the school had finally shifted away from him to Hargrove, which meant he could pass his days without hearing nasty whispers following him down the hallways.
Girls still thought Steve was attractive - he was still Steve Harrington -, but he was dating Nancy. Well, had been dating Nancy. He wasn’t dating Nancy anymore- God it hurt.
He had heard something about the ‘preppy rich boy’ look, something that just seemed to be well-liked by girls, and that’s what he was. Billy Hargrove was the typical 'bad boy', meaning he was all about fucking a girl and going to the next right after, easily getting bored with them and throwing them away like tissues. A week here and he had already gone through half the female population of Hawkins High. Steve’s old self would have been proud. And jealous. But mostly impressed by the efficiency of this one blond bastard.
Now, Steve just wanted to pour acid on his eyes whenever he saw Hargrove flirt with a girl who had seen Steve’s dick.
This was a whole new brand of nightmare in the hell that was his life, okay? He didn’t enjoy this.
It didn’t matter, anyways, because Steve was totally over this ‘King Steve’ bullshit, and by the way things were going, Hargrove was the new crowned asshole ruling the school now. He had pulverised his keg stand score or something like that, last Friday. Or so he understood from all the yelling and cheering. It sat perfectly well with Steve, that would mean Tommy would bother someone else than him.
“Tommy’s a leech, and the rest of them are fucking annoying.” The blond grunted as he took a drag from his never-ending cigarette, raising an eyebrow when Steve chuckled.
“Yeah, well. Good luck. You’re the new, hot shit in town, California.” He snarked the nickname, turning around to escape both his problems: that dude and his ex.
If you forgot the whole Upside Down shitshow – which no one besides a few unlucky people actually knew about – Billy Hargrove’s Californian ass was the new hot topic of Hawkins entire population.
And wasn’t that just sad?
Whatever, Steve had bigger issues.
He was vaguely aware of the blond following behind him to his car. What now? What did he want?
“What are you doing, Harrington?” The Californian’s voice sounded sharp like a knife in Steve’s ears. “Leaving so soon? I thought you were supposed to be more fun than those bland cows in there.” Steve swinged the driver’s door open with no care for it – wasn’t like his father was around to complain about his lack of softness with it -, turning an unimpressed glance to the other boy, who had that weird glint in his eyes ever since he had spotted Steve on school grounds.
“Where’s Wheeler?”
If lightning was to strike him dead right now, or a tree was to suddenly fall on his head, he’d just be so grateful. He didn’t have the energy for any of this.
“None of your business.”
“What? Got your panties in a twist, Pretty Boy?”
Jesus Christ, was Steve ever going to survive this night?
“Go annoy someone else, Hargrove.” He sighed with an eyeroll.
“Fuck off, Harrington. You’re no fun. No fun at all.” Hargrove scowled, as if Steve had just taken his favorite candy from him.
Steve internally debated over the fact of possibly giving him the bird and move on with his plans of getting back home and not sleep for the following hours because of his terror of basically every shadow and noise in Hawkins now - mostly because of the blue, haunting light coming from his pool -, but he decided to give the poor guy advise if he was to really become the new ‘King’.
“Look, California.” Hargrove turned a narrowed eyed scowl at him - and wow did that guy had no chill- while Steve raised lazy eyes to counter the obvious distaste the blond had for him, leaning against his car door, head tilted a little in ‘King Steve’s’ fashion. “I don’t know how things were back on the coast, but I can tell you that you’ve got nothing to worry about around here. Nobody will try to take your newfound popularity away from you... Except maybe Jason, but he’s a fanatic dick and nobody takes him seriously. So, chill, okay? Tommy’s going to parade you around like you’re his personal hooker for the rest of your poor high school life, or until he graduates, at least.” It was Steve’s understanding that Hargrove was a year under him. “The rest of them?” He sighed while Hargrove’s dark energy seemed to flare to another level. “They’re going to lick your ass if you ask them to do it, so really, just- Jesus- Just don’t change anything, and you’re going to be fine.”
“Really?” He drawled, he didn’t sound impressed, voice flatter than Earth, and Steve shrugged.
“That’s how dull it is in small towns.” He nodded and Hargrove sneered.
“You guys are desperate for something else than ‘King Steve’, huh? Tommy’s been moaning about how great you used to be, and then how you turned bitch for Wheeler.”
Right. Steve winced internally, but his face stayed completely neutral, except from the sigh that he pushed out of his chest.
“They need something else than the smell of cowshit, that’s for sure.” He rubbed his eyes, not taking the bait the Californian boy had give him as he climbed into the safety of his car.
He slammed his door right after, Hargrove’s laugher echoing behind him as he drove away, the tension in his shoulders bleeding away like water under the bridge.
The lights of houses and streetlamps casted ominous hallucinations of disembodied monsters with clammy, undead skin all around him, and if he sped up when he got to the part of town where the woods were just getting closer to the road - and to him -, nobody had to know.