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It was a dull morning in Hawkins. Wind spurred the evergreen leaves into motion. Clouds hovered low in the sky, the sun retreating behind them. Birds chirped a mellow song as they flew overhead, their families following in their wake. The crunch of dead leaves beneath too sullen shoes reverberated in Steve’s head, bouncing from endless strings of thought to the next. Steve walked lightly, facing forward, unseeing.
It was the fourth funeral that week.
Steve hadn’t known Billy Hargrove. According to his stepsister, no one really had. Maybe that was why the gathering was so barren of mourning faces.
Max was at the front, eyes downcast and shoulders hunched. Her fiery locks were pulled back into a tight bun, her typical bright hues swapped out for a faded black dress a few sizes too small. Her mother stood beside her, a hand lying on the girl’s back. Her eyes were on the casket; focused, determined. Her empty hand lay limp at her other side, her wedding band glinted in the morning sun. The matching band was not by her. Steve gritted his teeth.
Robin trotted along with Steve, her own footsteps not as mindful as his. Her hands pinched the hem of her sleeve, the knee-length laced dress she’d borrowed off a cousin sitting too tight at her stomach and too loose at her chest. Her short shag was tied up in a half-ponytail, a black ribbon descending from it. Her eyes were roving from unfamiliar faces to the next, her bottom lip worried between her teeth. Steve was glad she was here with him.
No one else had arrived yet. There were still fifteen minutes before the ceremony.
Steve approached Max while Robin scouted a spot to settle.
“Max,” he called softly, keeping his voice low out of respect.
The girl raised her head. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, her nose dripping. She wiped at it with her sleeve as Steve came to a halt beside her. “Hey,” she mustered up, trying for a small smile.
Steve smiled back politely, not having the energy for much more than that. “How’re you holding up?” He asked even though he already knew. Outside of her general appearance right then, he’d been hearing a lot about her withdrawal from her friends over the last couple of days. Lucas especially had been worried.
Nonetheless, Max shrugged. “You know,” she offered instead of her expected bluntness. “You?”
Steve lifted a shoulder in an attempt at a shrug, unsure how else to put it; he hadn’t known Billy after all. Max nodded as though she understood.
Before Steve could offer any meaningless platitudes, Max went back to staring at the words inscribed on Billy’s casket, seated on a pedestal with black cloth draping across it. Steve placed his small offering of flowers at the foot of the casket. This was the first set he’d put much thought into; the first funeral that really hurt. The florist had told him that crimson roses, white hyacinth, and pink carnations would make for an appropriate set. He hoped she was right.
He offered Susan a smile as he looked back up. The woman smiled back and made an effort to exchange pleasantries. Steve responded, feeling disconnected all the while. Once Susan's quota of typical funeral sayings was hit, Steve shuffled back to the corner Robin had set up.
The faces that appeared next were just as sullen, their features drawn tight in discomfort muddled with grief. Tommy had been Billy’s friend, Steve recalled distantly. Carol, too, if her swollen eyes and handkerchief at her nose were anything to go by. It went to say a lot to how shaken up they must have been by the recent events that neither Tommy nor Carol was dressed with any fancy. Carol’s little black dress was below the knee, with a simple lace pattern trimming the edges at her legs and at her chest. Her hair sat in a high ponytail. Tommy was in an unironed suit, and his tie looked to have been wrestled with many times on the way there. They trekked to the casket first, placed their respective set of flowers beside Steve’s – a collage of lilies as far as Steve could tell – and shared a few words with Max and Susan before shuffling over to Steve and Robin’s corner. Tommy raised a hand in a small, hesitant wave. Steve waved back.
“Hey, man,” Tommy said once they’d reached within earshot.
“Hey,” he replied, because no matter their history, they were at a funeral first and foremost. “How are you guys?” He meant it in a general sense, but Tommy shrugged the way Steve had just moments prior.
“It’s… crazy, I guess. We don’t really know how to feel,” Tommy offered, arm around Carol as she focused her eyes on the leaves underfoot. “Thought gettin’ out meant gettin’ out, y’know? Didn’t think we’d be…” he trailed off, his voice dying as his eyes fell back on the little girl with her down at the front of it all.
Steve understood. “Yeah, man. It sucks.”
Carol lifted her eyes then, meeting Steve’s briefly. “Have you— have you heard from Heather’s—”
Something on Steve’s face as she said the name must’ve given it away because she choked back a sob, turning into Tommy’s arms to hide her face. Tommy held her close while Steve and Robin looked away. Heather’s family had all been lost to the Mall.
A few more boys from the basketball team arrived before the ceremony began. Patrick Mickinney seemed the most distraught out of them all. Steve quietly wondered if they’d been close. Their coach had made an appearance as well, stopping by Steve first to trade a few pleasantries before retreating to the crowd of jocks settled a little beside Robin and Steve.
Joyce Byers and her kids — Jonathan, Will, and El — all make it soon after. El and Will go to Max’s side instantly upon arriving, while Joyce follows at a more subdued pace. Jonathan offered Susan a polite smile but left his family to it. He came up to Steve and Robin. “Hey,” he said with a tentative wave.
Steve nodded back. He was growing tired of pleasantries. “Hi,” Robin replied instead.
Jonathan looked between the two, nodded once at them, patted Steve once on the shoulder, and settled against the tree Steve and Robin were standing in front of. Jonathan didn’t bother with much else, and neither Steve nor Robin had the mental capacity to strike up a conversation.
The Wheelers arrived next. Little Holly was balanced on Karen’s hip as the older kids rushed off to meet their friends. Nancy approached with a quiet smile. Her dress was simple and understated, with long ruffled sleeves crawling down her arm and opaque black tights beneath the skirt. “Hi,” she greeted, stopping in front of them. Her eyes met Steve’s, then past his, to Robin’s.
“Hey, Nance,” Steve said.
Nancy must have sensed something in his voice, because her eyes softened. She reached out, squeezing his arm once. “How are you doing?”
Steve offered a shrug, still unsure how to answer the question. “I’m… okay.”
“It’s okay not to be, you know,” Nancy said, hypocrite of all hypocrites. Steve nodded instead of calling her out, too worn thin to bother. “Everything’s moving so fast, and it's all a lot.”
“How’ve you been, Nance?” Steve asked, hoping Nancy would drop it.
She sighed. “I'm okay. Everything's just… You know. I don’t even know if I should be here. I didn’t really get along with him…” she trailed off as her eyes wandered the gathering, noting how everyone else here had some relation to Billy.
Robin shifted beside Steve. “I think it's the thought that counts, you know?” Robin had mentioned to Steve earlier how she wasn’t sure whether she should be there either, and that had been Steve's response. “Better pay our respects, ‘cause he did save a lot of people, so.”
That he had. Steve had stayed up many nights the last few weeks, wondering if he would've had the strength to do what Billy did. None of those times did he get an answer.
Nancy nodded in agreement. “I didn’t think he was a great guy when he was alive,” she confessed quietly, her eyes tracking back to the casket. “But I don’t think that guy I had in my head would’ve done what he did.”
Steve inhaled deeply, doing his best not to think about basketball or their fight. The guy Billy had been in Hawkins, the guy they’d all gotten to meet, hadn’t seemed like the type to jump in front of an unstoppable monster for a little girl he didn’t know. Steve hadn’t thought he was the type of guy Steve would mourn. Yet here they were, he supposed.
Nancy made a confused sound, and Steve looked at her then, finding her face scrunched in mild dismay. Steve followed her eyes to little El, standing right by Max with the girls’ hands interlocked. El had a mean glare, her eyes narrowed, and her mouth pulled back in a sneer. Steve had never seen that look on the girl. El was staring at Karen Wheeler.
Her friends were shooting the older lady unpleasant looks themselves, and even Joyce didn’t seem very compelled to stop them. Karen herself blinked owlishly at the crowd, anxiously shifting Holly on her hip.
“What’s up with them?” Nancy asked, turning to Steve first, then to Jonathan. “What are they doing?” The girl sounded confused more than accusatory, but she did have her nose scrunched the way she does when she’s trying to solve a particularly difficult equation.
Jonathan shrugged from his spot at the tree, eyes refusing to meet anyone. When Steve and Robin turned on him in equal levels of bafflement, he sighed as he pushed off the tree. “It’s kinda a weird thing to say,” he offered. Nancy motioned for him to elaborate even still, and he sighed once again, deeper this time. “Just… El was in Billy’s memories, right? She got to see stuff from his life that… no one else had seen the way he had.”
They nodded, each of them having heard some rendition of said memories, of how Neil Hargrove hardly counted as a father.
“Well,” Jonathan paused, his eyes darting once to Karen Wheeler. “She saw Karen in Billy’s memories.” Now his eyes were on Nancy, gaze apologetic. “She saw… Karen and Billy flirt with each other. At the pool. Karen and a bunch of other, older, women were there… to see Billy.”
Steve blinked, confusion overlapping with the mild discomfort that concept brought. He’s had a lot of girls ogling him since he hit puberty, and probably before that, too. Most of those girls were his age, though. Something about it brought a stain to Nancy's face, Robin’s mirroring Steve’s own discomfort.
Jonathan shrugged, looking at his feet. “They were supposed to meet up the night Billy got taken. At Motel 6.”
All Steve knew about the place was that it was a secret rendezvous spot for people who wanted to be discreet about certain things. Most commonly, that was having sex without their spouses finding out. But that couldn’t have been what Jonathan was getting at.
Nancy looked down right appalled. “They had sex?” She whisper-shouted, sounding mortified at the prospect.
Jonathan shook his head. “He got captured before they could. But they were supposed to.”
Steve felt his stomach turn. Karen was in her forties, was married, and had three kids. Nancy was as old as Billy was. They’d fought for Valadectorian their last year. Billy had been mere weeks out of high school.
Steve turned away from the group, feeling disgusted. He inhaled through his nose, then let it out slowly, deliberately not looking at anyone. He heard Robin whisper-scream something at Jonathan, then heard Jonathan respond as calmly as he could manage: “She is gross.”
Some small part of Steve had expected Nancy to jump to her mother’s defense. Instead, when Steve looked back, he found Nancy stomping off in the older lady’s direction. Karen turned wide, baffled eyes on her daughter. He felt his stomach clench at the sight of her. Steve had been in her house, had eaten her food, had smiled at her, talked sports with her husband, had played with her youngest, bickered with her son, loved her eldest. All that time, she’d had the capacity to look at him like she wanted more?
Nancy had Karen pass Holly off to Ted, and they were marching their way out of earshot of everyone else. Steve only caught a glimpse of Nancy's expression, but even from that, he could tell Karen wasn’t going to return to the gathering. If she did, she wouldn’t be welcome.
Robin placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder, squeezing once in understanding. He smiled at her, and she smiled back. Jonathan returned to leaning against the tree. The Sinclairs arrived last, Dustin walking in line with Lucas in their matching black suits and red ties. Erica walked with her mom’s hand in a loose grip, her little black dress, her skin-tight stockings, and her lacey little hat making for an ominous silhouette.
Nancy trotted back up to them, without her mother in tow, just as the ceremony began.
It wasn’t a religious ceremony. As far as Steve knew, Billy hadn’t been religious. His father had been, but the man wasn’t involved in planning the ceremony. It was a small gathering of people who knew Billy, people with whom he’d interacted on a daily basis when he’d been alive. The crowd lacked many people who really knew Billy, Steve thought. He was included in that majority. He wondered what right they had to mourn a guy they’d never really known.
Susan spoke first.
“Billy and I, we’d never been close.” Steve hadn’t known it then, but he was going to grow tired of hearing that particular phrase. “But we’d lived under the same roof for more than half a decade, so I'm going to sincerely miss his presence. He was ambitious and strong-willed. He never let anything get him down for too long, not even his father.” She swallowed hard, her eyes going to the sky as if asking for strength.
She composed herself, inhaling deep before continuing. “He helped out around the house where he could, he’d drive Max to and from school to help me, he was a better cook than I was, but he’d never belittled me for it. I know I didn’t get along with him,” her voice breaks here, as though she’s holding back tears, “but I wish I’d tried to. He was stronger than I ever could be. Stronger than I ever will be.” She sniffled, wiping her nose delicately with her sleeve. The little piece of paper in her hand trembled as she spoke, so much so that Steve wondered if she could read off of it. “May your soul rest in peace, Billy,” she said, quiet and eyes on the casket beside her, as though she were trying to talk only to Billy.
Quieter still, she said, “Thank you. For everything.”
She had tears gathered in her eyes as she returned to her spot by Max.
Next to go was Joyce.
“Billy saved my little girl,” she said, her eyes filled with love and grief, both muddled together as she smiled at little El watching from the crowd. “If it weren’t for him, she wouldn't be here with us, and I will be eternally grateful to him for it. I wish— I wish more than anything else that he was here, so I could even attempt to repay him.”
She breathed deeply. “I hadn’t known him, not really. The first time I’d met him was at Melvald's, when he’d come in to buy snacks for his sister and him.” Max in the crowd raised her head to watch Joyce. “He’d picked out these chips, a pack of strawberry flavoured gum, cigarettes, and a grape juice box. He didn’t have enough money on him for all of it, and I’d just assumed he’d put the juice box away, so I had started arranging the register for it. But he’d stopped me. Said the juice box was for his sister. He took out the cigarettes instead.” The small smile she was offering the audience was very clearly intended for one person.
“He was caring and thoughtful. I just wish I’d ever gotten the chance to know him better." Joyce lowered her voice and said a quiet word of gratitude to Billy before stepping down.
A few of the basketball team went next. Patrick MicKinney was the one who stood out to Steve.
“Billy and I didn’t talk, but we’d known each other better than I think anyone else at school did,” he'd started, his eyes on the audience, determined to get this off his chest. “He’d known a secret of mine, and I knew one of his. The same secret. We never talked about it, but we’d have each other’s backs if we needed to. He’d cover for me when I couldn’t play basketball, or I’d lie to his teachers about why he didn’t come to school. I knew why.”
Looking up revealed glossy eyes and trembling lips. Steve wondered what the secret was. “He never gave me shit when I messed up moves on the field. One time, when I’d forgotten to do an important assignment, he’d given me his to submit; said he could get another one done before his class. Sometimes I’d get shit from… friends of ours. Shit for being different.” He said the word like it left a sour taste in his mouth. “And he’d jump in, would start howling or screaming about something completely off topic. He’d make himself the bigger target, the easier thing to comment on. He’d never make it a big deal, but he’d help.” The guy let out a wet sigh, licking his lips in a vain attempt to keep himself together.
“He made high school bearable,” he finished, his voice breaking on the last word. Then, turning to the casket, he whispered, “Thank you. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.
Tommy and Carol go back to back. Tommy first.
“We were friends in school,” Tommy started, his eyes on the paper in front of him. Had Steve not known him better, he might have thought Tommy was simply reading off of it. But Steve did know the guy better and could see his tense shoulders and wobbly lips. “He was a fun guy to have around. He was a good drunk and the life of any party he was at. I used to think that was all you gotta be to be a good guy, but I don’t think like that anymore. I think he was a good guy ‘cause he’d never ditch you at parties. If he’s your ride, he won’t drink as much, he’ll set a time and make sure you’re out by then. He was a good guy ‘cause he’d offer tutorin’ if you asked and wouldn’t give you shit for being a dumbass. He was a pretty good team player when he wanted to be, and he’s the reason we won most of our games.” Steve might’ve expected Tommy to be bitter about this, but somehow he didn’t see it at all.
“He was a fun guy to have in your corner,” Tommy said, his eyes lifting to meet the crowd’s collective gaze as though trying to convince them of this. Then he averted them down the casket and sighed shakily. “I miss you, buddy.”
He stepped down and helped Carol up.
“I wasn’t as close to him as Tommy was, but we ran in the same circles.” Carol had her piece of paper white-knuckled, her jaw set tight as though this was the hardest thing she’d had to do. “I didn’t think much of him ‘cause he was just another guy. He wasn’t, though. I didn’t ever appreciate it when he was alive, but looking back, he was better than most. He wouldn’t ogle me. The other guys would. They’d say shit about my body, about me datin’ Tommy, about other weird shit. Billy never did. First day we met, he tried flirting with me. Then he found out I was dating Tommy, and he never said shit again. He was one of the only guys at school I could actually talk to. I guess Tommy already said it, but he was pretty good about parties. Never left you alone if you just asked him not to, was a pretty reliable drink-holder too.”
She breathed in deep, her eyes fluttering closed as though trying to gather strength from within. “He was a good guy. I never knew much about him, but he was a good guy, and I think— I—” she sucked in another lungfull of air. She licked her lips, her eyes on her feet. “‘m sorry.” She turned hastily to the casket. “I hope you’re at peace wherever you are. I hope you both are.” Then, as the tears cascaded down her cheeks, she made her way off the podium and into Tommy’s waiting arms.
Steve was next.
Standing at the podium, he found that maybe there were a few more faces who mourned the way he did. Maybe he wasn’t alone in the distant sort of ache he feels when he thinks about his classmate, his rival by all definitions, the guy who’d done what Steve wasn’t sure anyone else there could ever do. He stared down at the words he’d scribbled out last night. He’d gone over them dozens of times, but he couldn’t ever find the right words to use.
“I didn’t talk to him much. We were hardly friendly. We’d fought once too.” He glanced up to find his old classmates shaking their hands as if in remembrance of a funny memory. Steve didn’t laugh. “I was there that night, though, when he’d sacrificed his life. I was up on the second floor, it was crumbling, but I saw him tell El to run. I saw him make the decision to do it. I just— I don’t think I could’ve ever done that. I don’t think any of us here could have.
"He was stronger than I’d ever imagined. He’s probably the strongest person I know. Strongest person I’ll ever meet. I hadn’t known him really, but I’ll mourn him. I’ll think of him for the rest of my life, and I’ll wonder what it would’ve been like if we’d met a little later, if we could’ve been friends. I think I’d have loved to be friends with a guy like him.” He sucked in a lungful of air, averting his eyes from the crowd ahead. He met the unseeing gaze of the casket. “Rest in peace, Har--- Billy.”
As he turned to the crowd one last time, he spotted a head of brown curls he only vaguely recognised. Next to it stood a ginger he definitely knew the name of. He had a moment to wonder why they were there before the curly head was marching up front.
“I’d like to say something,” the guy said, determination lining his every feature. Steve raised a brow but motioned for the guy to get up on the podium as Steve climbed down. He did as was instructed, though he seemed uncomfortable with the whole thing.
Steve heard a few jocks make noises of either complaint or confusion as the guy got up. Steve still didn’t recognise hun
“I’m Eddie Munson.” Steve knew that name. He probably should’ve recognised the face, but there was too much going on for it. “I was… a friend of Billy’s.” He sold to most of the popular crowd when he was in a good mood.
“We met up a couple times at my place. We’d uh, smoke cigarettes together. He was good company. He was a metalhead, like me, so I was a little curious. We just shot the shit or whatever. I thought he’d be like the rest of them, but he ended up being pretty fun. He knew shit about the songs he listened to; he even knew some nerdy stuff I’d never heard of.
"I talked about shit I was into, and instead of beating me up the way I thought he would, he’d listen to me rant and rave about it all. At school, he’d never mention it or even glance my direction. That’s a good thing, by the way.
“I just wanted to say my respects ‘cause… well, I really did respect him.” Then he turned to the casket, nodding like he’d made up his mind on something. “I hope you’re doing good down there, man.”
Max didn’t end up saying anything. Some of her friends did, though. First to go, oddly enough, was Lucas.
“I thought Billy hated us,” he started, shaking on the spot a little. “Hated me. Because I'm uh, black. But I don’t think he did, anymore. I think he was trying to protect Max and me. From other people who might want to hurt us. Because Billy never hurt me. He’d helped me one time when I fell off my bike and had gotten my laces tangled in the wheels. He’d been all gentle and stuff. He didn’t make me pay for it like I thought he might. He just kinda did it and never mentioned it again. He also bought my little sister ice cream one time, with sprinkles and extra chocolate fudge, the way she likes. He didn’t complain about the money… uh, not to our faces anyway.”
He licked his lips. “Um, yeah.” He turned to the casket, uttered a few words Steve hadn’t heard, and scurried off to his group of friends.
Strangest of all, in Steve’s opinion, Mike got up on the podium next. He stood stock still for a moment, eyes roving around the crowd like he hadn’t expected there to be so many people. He cleared his throat.
“Billy was fun,” he said, hoarsely. Steve couldn’t tell if it was from nerves or something else. “He’d take me on drives sometimes, when Steve or my mom were busy. He’d drop me off last so that we could go, like, super fast or whatever. Um, one time, I’d run away from home, and Billy had found me. I kinda thought he might mug me or something, but he just opened his car door and told me to get in. I did.”
He watched his father for a moment before returning his gaze to his friends. “He didn’t really ask questions, just kinda let me ride with him for a little while until I felt better. He said he couldn’t just ‘drop me off somewhere’ cause it was late, I guess.” He darted his eyes around the crowd before swallowing hard. He turned to the casket, uttered a few indecipherable words, then returned to his friends.
Last of them to go was El.
Joyce whispered quiet reassurances before she stepped up. Turning to face the crowd, El looked determined, ready.
“My name is El. Billy saved my life. I don't know how to thank him because if it were not for him, I wouldn’t be here. But he’s not here, so I don’t know how to say thank you to him… will he hear me?” Her eyes drifted to Max then, their gazes locking for a moment before El nodded. “Billy was sad, a lot. He never told people, but he was sad all the time. I was also sad for a long time; I didn’t have people the way he didn't have people. That’s why I know he was so sad.” Her gaze was fixed on something on the horizon that no one else could see. “He saved my life, and I will always remember him. I will never forget what he did for me. I will live my life to the fullest I can, for him. Joyce says I should do that, so that he could live through me from wherever he is now. I hope he sees me living, because I’m living for him.”
Her eyes shifted back to the casket. “Be happy, Billy.”
El was the last to speak. The rest said their piece quietly, without drawing any eyes. Chrissy Cunningham, the girl Steve had spotted from the podium, was one of those people. Steve hadn’t known they were close, but then again, he’d learned a lot about Billy this past hour. He left her to it. Later, he’d even spotted Will at the casket, eyes unfocused and glossy, hands trembling at his side. Steve left him to it, too.
Steve had watched as his friends, Robin, Nancy, and Jonathan, all made their way to the casket one by one. All he’d caught was snippets; an “—in peace,” from Robin, a sincere “I’m sorry—” from Nancy, and a hushed “thank you—” from Jonathan.
He spotted Max trekking toward it last. Her body dragged along by her feet, as though only part of her wanted to do this. Steve watched her stare at the casket, eyes empty, expression unreadable. He silently wondered what she saw when she looked at her brother’s casket. He wondered if her grief was the realist of them all or if hers just hurt the most. He approached her.
“You wanna say something?” He asked.
Max shrugged, not looking up. “I don’t know what to say,” she admitted quietly, as though sharing a secret. “When he was alive, there was nothing I didn’t want to tell him. Now? I don’t know what’s right.”
Steve placed a hand on her back, hoping to alleviate some of the burden. “You could tell him… that you miss him?”
Max continued staring at her brother’s final resting place. Steve licked his lips. “Billy,” he called, trying to muster up his own will. “Just so you know, Jason Carver’s the next basketball captain. It’s not me. Thought you’d like to hear.”
Max shot him a baffled glance. He shrugged in response. “You can tell him anything. Whatever you want.” He knew that wasn't exactly part of funeral customs, but who cared? The guy of the hour sure wouldn’t have.
Max stared at the casket for a moment longer before lowering her head as though to whisper directly into his ear. "I'm gonna go back home, to California. I have your mom's pendant. I'll bury it there for you." She licked her lips, a heavy, shaky breath escaping her. She shut her eyes and said something Steve couldn't hear. She lifted her head, her body still tense but maybe a little lighter.
The ceremony ended in a burial where many tears were shed. More than Steve thought there were going to be. He might have shed a few of his own, too; he wasn't sure.