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“Look son, I told you already, I’m not paying that, I haven’t had the goddamn tape that long.”
Steve grits his teeth. He’s been arguing with this dickbrained customer for five minutes, and he’s starting to get sick of being spoken to like a kid.
“Sir,” he says, voice strained. “I can see right here on our records that you checked out that movie ten days ago. So your late fee is—”
“No, see, I know all about you, Steve Harrington, I read about you in the paper. I know you’re not fucking right in the head so I don’t think you can count right—”
“You don’t fucking know shit!” Steve screams, voice catching. He’s not a screamer. The guy backs up a step. “You shut your fucking mouth, you people don’t know shit! You don’t know shit!”
The other customers in the store are slinking towards the door as Steve yells, spit hitting the counter. It’s all a bit of a blur. Steve can’t stop; his voice doesn’t sound like his own, and he feels Robin grab his shirt and drag him away. He paces up and down the bathroom, chest heaving, so much emotion powering through his body like rolling thunder that he doesn’t know what to do with it. He catches sight of himself in the mirror but the reflection doesn’t look right. The scar on his neck is mocking. Steve screams, sobs and feels pain burst and bloom up his shoulder when his fist connects with the glass. He’s aware of Robin leaving the bathroom in his peripheral.
Steve’s still in there, kicking the stall doors and making them rattle when Billy appears.
“Get in the car, we’re goin’.”
“Fuck off,” Steve bites.
“Harrington, I’m not playing. Car.”
“Fuck off!”
He thumps his fists against one of the rickety stalls, blood smearing. Billy crosses the room and has his arms around him in an instant, squeezing him until Steve has no option but to go limp in his arms with a sob.
He’s not sure how long they stay that way but Steve just keeps his head down as he leaves the building, Billy’s hand on his back to guide him. He hears Billy mutter something to Robin as they pass her.
In the car, Steve’s silent. His hand is throbbing.
“You can’t go around acting like that,” Billy says quietly, eyes on the road.
Steve scoffs. “That’s rich coming from you.”
“Yeah, exactly, Steve,” Billy’s voice is firmer now. “I know what I’m fuckin’ talkin’ about. Now tell me what’s bothering you so this doesn’t happen again, ‘cause you scared the shit out of Robin.”
Steve’s stomach turns, guilt crawling up his throat. It takes him a couple of minutes to speak but Billy doesn’t rush him.
“I, um… I guess I’m not handling everything as well as I thought I was,” he admits eventually. “With all the… goo monsters and people dying.”
“That’s all over now,” Billy says quickly. “And we’re gonna get out of Hawkins as soon as Max graduates. We’ll get an apartment wherever she wants to go to college and we’ll be so far from here and nobody will know your name from any fuckin’ newspaper.”
Steve takes a deep breath and lets it out long and shaky. He knows that without the hush money, they wouldn’t be able to afford their plan. It doesn’t stop the nightmares or the ever-underlying panic that all his friends might die in front of him but it’s a promise of escape. A ticket to get away from the scene of the crime, at the small, small cost of letting the population of Hawkins think he was a suicidal lunatic. He touches his neck, fingers stroking over the marks that just won’t seem to heal.
Maybe they never will. Not that it really matters; the Upside Down has branded them all in some way or another.
“Can’t believe Billy Hargrove is talking me down,” Steve says, a smile returning to his features.
Billy laughs, one hand coming to rest on Steve’s knee. “Get used to it, princess, I’m a reformed man.”
Steve raises an eyebrow. “Princess, you blew up last week because you dropped your last Eggo on the floor.”
“Well it was the last one?!” Billy yells.
It makes Steve laugh, long and deep and hearty. He sees Billy grin, glancing at him, and when his eyes go back to the road ahead, the grin stays.
It makes Steve feel like there’s no ticking time bomb in his chest, no scars on his body, no lie wrapped round his neck like a rope he never touched.