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As the days started getting shorter and the air got colder, so did the attitude of one Steve Harrington. Not many people knew why he got so moody in the winter time, not even his own parents. All they knew was that about fifteen years prior, he’d started getting upset whenever the temperature dropped below fifty degrees. When the seasons changed, he’d start hiding away as much as he could, barely seeing friends or loved ones, only really leaving for work or doctor’s appointments, and essentially becoming a recluse. And even though it had gotten a little bit better with every year that passed, the sadness still lingered on him and in him as November came to an end.
He was trying to keep a smile on his face as he helped his family set up and decorate their Christmas tree, not wanting his kids to catch on to the pain he was feeling. They were always so excited for the holidays and for the first snowfall and he didn’t want to put a damper on that, especially since they were getting older, and he didn’t know how many Christmases they’d have left where they still believed in Santa Claus. But by the time the tree was put back together and fluffed up after its time in storage, he’d needed a break from it all. He made up a quick excuse and scurried away upstairs, trying not to feel even worse at the slightly disappointed looks on his kid’s faces, nor the pitiful one his wife gave him. And he couldn’t help the way his heart twisted as he overheard their next conversation.
“Mama, why does daddy always get upset when it gets cold out?” His eldest, Danielle, asked. She was eight, and entirely too perceptive for her age.
“It’s a long story, Dani,” his wife, Natalie, said. Of course, she knew the reason Steve got so depressed in winter. She’d found out the year they started dating, and she’d stayed with him anyway, even though it happened again the next year. That was when Steve knew that she was the one, and he married her the following spring.
“But it happens every year. He always gets sad at Christmas, even though we’re supposed to be happy on Christmas,” his middle daughter, Maria, chimed in. She had just turned six.
“Yeah,” his youngest, Adrian, piped up. He was only three, but even he noticed when Steve seemed to shut down around this time of year.
“I know, but your father just needs some extra space and time around now,” Natalie sighed, hoping her children would just drop it. Luckily, the kitchen timer went off just then, and she was able to distract them with the cookies she’d just taken out of the oven.
As Steve listened to them from his spot at the top of the stairs, he couldn’t help but feel even worse than he already did. He didn’t want his kids worrying about him, but he didn’t quite know how to explain it. See, the problem was, he’d lost someone all those years ago, someone he’d loved. It was five years before he’d met Natalie, the summer after he finished high school. That was back when he still lived in his tiny little hometown, when the kids he babysat dragged him into it when they decided to start fighting interdimensional monsters and when he’d been dating his former school rival, Billy Hargrove. That is, until Billy died trying to protect him and everyone else they cared about from a gigantic flesh monster in the middle of the mall.
After it happened, Steve was a wreck. He grieved harder than almost anyone, and he still did. Every summer, on the fourth of July, he never went anywhere or did anything, he’d just hide in his house and mourn. That changed after he’d had kids, but it was still a hard day. But the winter was always worse than summer was. Sure, he’d died in the summer, but the winter before that, after they’d made up when they shared a smoke after dropping their respective kids off at the stupid school dance in December, they started getting close.
Billy hadn’t had the best home life, so he’d often show up at Steve’s door late at night, hoping he might let him stay. Steve would always let him in, listen to him if he wanted to talk, and provide some kind of distraction if he didn’t. Sometimes he’d come over with cuts and bruises all over him and Steve would patch them up, letting him cry on his shoulder if he needed to. During some of these nights, Steve would have the crazy thought that he’d like to kiss him, to take all his pain away and make him feel loved and safe, even if just for a moment. And one night, just before New Year’s, he finally gave in to the urge.
He was surprised to feel Billy kissing him back, to hear the way he sighed and to feel his arms wrapping around him, holding him in place so he couldn’t pull back, even if he’d wanted to.
After that, it was just easy. Billy would come over even on nights when he wasn’t just looking for a place to crash, and even though they had to keep the relationship a little bit of a secret, they found ways to be together even if it was risky. They would surprise each other with little gifts and trinkets just because they felt like it, or they would help each other with homework or chores or whatever just to be helpful. It was hard sometimes with Billy’s dad always around, but they would call each other every night, just to say goodnight and to hear the other’s voice.
Sometime around the end of February, Billy had told Steve that he loved him. It was so casual, like they’d said it a million times before, but it meant everything. Steve almost didn’t believe his ears at first, but then it sank in, and it made his heart melt. When he’d said it back, Billy had smiled so brightly, Steve only melted further. Every time he said it after that, Billy would light up the same way, no matter how many times it was.
They had been together about six months when Billy died. Steve could still remember the pain he felt when he saw Billy being stabbed through the chest by that horrible creature, like he’d been impaled right then, too. He remembered so clearly the way Billy screamed in pain, the way he’d wanted to jump over the balcony rail to get to him after, and probably would’ve if Robin hadn't held him back. He could still feel the brush burns on his knees as he ran over and collapsed at Billy’s side on the cold linoleum, holding him as he struggled to breathe and crying so hard he wasn’t faring much better. He remembered the way Robin had to hold him up when the emergency responders had to take Billy’s body away, and the way she held his head so that he wouldn’t see them zipping him into a body bag. He remembered going home that night to an empty house, half expecting the phone to ring before he went to bed, and losing it again when he realized it wouldn’t, not that night or any other. He’d slept in the guest room for weeks afterwards, his own room holding too many memories that he didn’t want to face yet. Eventually, as the summer had come to a close, he’d started to feel better. Robin and Dustin had really helped, and by September, he was working at the video store with Robin and starting to heal.
But as the winter came, it all came flooding back, and not just the bad memories of the night Billy died, but the good ones, the ones of that winter when they’d gotten together, and Steve fell into another depression. It was bad enough having to remember Billy’s screams of agony in the summer, but having to remember his laugh and the way he smiled in the winter only made it ten times worse, since he’d never see or hear them again. In winter, Billy’s memory haunted him like a ghost, and there was nothing he could do about it.
Steve sighed now as he thought about everything again, trying to keep himself together as he got up and went to his bedroom, rooting around under his bed for the photo album he had kept there. He didn’t look at it too often, but sometimes it helped when he was upset like this. It wouldn’t chase the ghost away, but it might make it easier to deal with.
He flipped the book open to his favorite picture, one he’d taken of Billy when he’d worked at the pool that summer. He looked like a model, sitting up in the chair and looking at something off to his right, his sunglasses in his hand. Billy always said he hated the way he looked in pictures, but Steve could never understand why. He always came out looking gorgeous, and Steve never wasted an opportunity to remind him of it.
He sighed now as he looked at the picture, his heart aching. He wished he could go back to that first winter, to make things different, to protect him so that nothing would ever happen to him, but he knew that was silly. All he could do now was remember his love and the time they spent together, and even though it hurt like hell, and heal, little by little, year after year.