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“You gotta come to the Byers’ Christmas party!” Max insisted as she stood by Billy’s door, her arms crossed and a stubborn frown on her face.
“I don’t gotta do shit!” Billy snapped at her, glaring at her.
“Steve will be there.”
Silence fell over them like a heavy blanket.
Billy took a long drag of his smoke, the amber in the end of it burning bright. “Don’t wanna see him,” he finally muttered, the smoke billowing around him.
“So, instead of finally actually doing something about it, you’re gonna wallow about losing the chance with him? About never telling him how you feel in the first place? Like you’ve been doing the last three goddamn months?”
Billy made a face. “Yeah, I actually am.”
“You so ain’t,” she insisted. “I told him you’ve been released from the hospital.”
“Why the fuck did you tell him that? You got no rig—”
She interrupted him. “He misses you.”
Billy clenched his jaw, his free hand forming a tight fist. “Why the fuck would he miss me?” he seethed.
“You know why. You’re just being an idiot about it.”
Billy scoffed. “If he misses me so much then why he’s not here to tell it straight to my face?”
“Okay, point. But you still shoul—”
“I’m not coming and that’s final!” Billy shouted. “Fuck off, Maxine!”
“Asshole!” Max snapped at him and left.
Billy stubbed the smoke and laid down, the scar on his side tightening uncomfortably as he turned to face the wall. He heard Max stomping to the living room and soon the front door was slammed shut, leaving only his alarm clock ticking as his only companion.
After Starcourt, he’d been stitched back together in a long operation, added a donor heart, and kept in a coma for a month. Muscles all gone, smooth skin replaced with pink, ugly scars on his arms and all over his torso. Most of them would probably never heal.
The scar in his sternum ached and he rubbed it with the heel of his palm to ease the pain. He scoffed.
One hell of a miracle his coming back from the dead was.
Even the thought of facing Steve made Billy’s insides twist. He’d never apologized what happened at the Byers—and what he’d almost done to him when he’d been flayed.
Traitorous tears fell on his cheeks, trickling down on the pillow.
He’d stood there, at the Steve’s door, ready to grab anyone who opened the door. Luckily it had been Mrs. Harrington instead of Steve. The short struggle that had followed had ended in him taking both her and Mr. Harrington to the Mindflayer.
The pillowcase turned slowly all wet against his cheek.
Hawkins was small. He was happier here, in his room, where no one would judge him.
He couldn’t leave for California, no matter how much he wanted. His body still couldn’t handle sitting in a car for hours on end and to even get to the airport in Indianapolis he would’ve had to suffer for more than three hours in the car. Too fucking long.
Apparently he was well enough for school, though, or that’s at least what Dr. Owens had said. The thought wasn’t really inviting and he had tried to get the doc to still write him off for one semester—but it hadn’t worked. The doc thought it was best for him to try to return to normal life as soon as possible. So, after New Year’s he’d have to go back.
He so wasn’t looking for it. To be scowled upon as he’d walk in the corridors, stared by everyone if he would so much as roll up his sleeves even a little. The monster who took half of the town and made them the meat monster that crushed everything on its way upon hunting Jane.
It would be a pain—
His train of thought was interrupted by the front door opening and someone coming in.
The walls of the tiny trailer made Max’s voice thinner, but Billy still heard her loud and clear.
“His room is the one in the back.”
Some shuffling, then footsteps. Heavier than Max’s.
Fuck. Billy squeezed his eyes tighter together. Please, please, please, don’t be Harrington.
Three knocks on the door. “Uh…Hi.”
A blazing hot embarrassment and shame formed a knot in Billy’s chest. He curled his arms around himself tight.
He heard Steve shuffling his feet at the door. “Can I come in?”
When Billy said nothing, Steve walked in anyway and sat in the end of the bed. “How’ve you been?”
An awkward silence followed. Billy couldn’t say a word. The shame was too much.
“Max told me you’re not coming to the Byers Christmas dinner.”
Still silence.
An eternity later Steve spoke again. “Look…I know it wasn’t you who took my parents. It was the Mindflayer.” He paused. “I don’t hold that against you.”
More tears fell on Billy’s cheeks, a cascading waterfall on the already wet pillow. He covered his eyes with his hand. “Don’t need your forgiveness,” he rasped. It was the wrong thing to say but—
“It’s okay. I forgive you anyway.” Pause. “Though, an apology for the Byers thing would be nice. Got a concussion.”
Billy tried to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat. He took a few deep breaths before speaking. “Sorry,” he whispered.
“’s okay.” Steve was quiet for a while before speaking again. “So, you wanna watch a movie? I brought Alien. Max said it’s your favorite.”
Billy wiped his face to his sleeve and looked over his shoulder at Steve. “I already said I’m sorry. You don’t have to—”
A smile pulled up the corner of Steve’s mouth. “Yeah, and I said it’s okay. You wanna watch the movie or what? I brought chocolate. Kitkats.”
Billy groaned. “Did she tell you my favorite food as well?”
“Pasta bolognese.”
Billy huffed a laugh. “I’m gonna kill her,” he muttered, not really meaning it.
Steve laughed. It was airy and bright, like Steve genuinely thought it was funny.
Billy turned on his back and glanced at Steve. “Why are you really here?”
“Well, Max told me you were not coming to the party. So, I thought I’d come here then.”
Billy frowned. “To spend Christmas with me rather than with people who…are not me?”
“Yeah. So?”
Steve said it as it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“You don’t have friends or—” Billy started.
“I just want to spend time with you, okay?” Steve cut in. He waved the VHS tape and the chocolate bars in his hand. “Alien and Kitkats. I got a few Cokes too. C’mon.”
Billy stared at the ceiling. The knot in his chest was thawing, slowly being replaced by something warm. None of his old ‘friends’ had come to check on him. Then again, against all odds, Steve was here.
“You’re not gonna leave until I say yes?” he asked.
“Nope,” Steve said, popping the p.
“You’re fucking annoying, you know that?”
Steve had a smug grin on his face. “Yeah.”
Billy couldn’t hold back the smile that forced its way on his lips. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “Fine.”
“Yes!” Steve said, delighted, and stood up. “I’ll set up the movie.”
“Sure,” Billy sighed, resigned, as he carefully sat up.
Steve vanished back to the living room. He spoke something with Max.
“Fucking finally!” Max groaned.
“Hey! Language!” Steve half-laughed.
When Billy shuffled to the living room, Steve was already sitting on the couch, a couple of Cokes and a stack of Kitkats in his lap. Billy slumped on the other end of the couch. “Well?”
A car horn sounded from outside.
Max came out from her room, her hair open for once. “That’s Nancy,” she stated as she put on her parka. “She promised to pick me up.”
Billy grinned. “You look like an actual girl. So, Sinclair gonna be there?” he teased.
Max blushed and rolled her eyes. “Maybe. And Harrington is here. So,” she replied with a lilt.
Billy clenched his jaw, shooting daggers at her.
“You two have fun!” she quipped, sing-song, before she slipped through the door.
Billy bit his lip.
Steve shuffled closer to him, their knees suddenly touching.
Billy froze and looked at Steve’s knee pressing against his own, not moving away.
“Kitkat or a Coke?” Steve asked nonchalantly. The slight hitch in his voice revealed it being nothing but.
Billy raised his gaze at him. Steve’s face was flushed all the way down to his neck. He looked adorable.
For fuck’s sake.
A smile tugged the corner of Billy’s mouth as he took the Coke Steve was holding out for him.
Steve took the remote and pressed play.
When the letters of the movie title started forming on the screen, Steve shuffled on his seat so that they were sitting their thighs pressing against each other, shoulder to shoulder.
By the time the screen in the cockpit of the Nostromo turned on, spewing code on the helmet's visor, his arm was set on the backrest behind Billy.
“You’re not as smooth as you think you are, Harrington,” Billy drawled. His cheeks were burning hot, his hands sweating. He wiped them on his thighs, accidentally brushing Steve’s thigh with his pinkie.
Steve glanced at him with a lopsided grin. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.” Billy tried to keep his voice even, but still it cracked a little.
He swallowed when Steve’s fingers brushed his shoulder, then a warm hand landed on it, the weight of the arm now over his both shoulders—then Steve pulled him against him, tight.
“I’m sure I’ll get a kiss by the end of the film,” Steve whispered, his voice sultry, close to Billy’s ear.
“More likely from the facehugger than anyone else,” Billy tried, voice trembling.
He could hear the smug grin in Steve’s voice when he spoke, “Wanna bet?”