Archive of Our Own

Too cold. Too cold. He was too cold. 

Neil's eyes were too cold.

The fridge Neil slammed his head into was too cold. 

The night air was too cold. 

His heavy breath came out cold. 

And he liked it cold.  

Billy didn't want to be cold. Couldn't stand being cold anymore.

He felt his eyes close, and suddenly, he was down there. Freezing. Freezing so cold. 

His throat was dry, he licked his lips, opened his mouth, tried to gasp, no sound.

He couldn't get a breath in. So cold.

He looked around, everything went out like a light, his eyes blinked slowly, he could feel him. Hear him. Smell the blood from a mile away. He wanted to scream. He wanted to run so bad it felt like he was inching just inching away. So close, so so so close. 

He could hear his own voice. "It's not real.." slowly at first

"It's not real."

"It's not real."

He went to feel the press of his own lips and see how cold they were only to feel them hard pressed together.

"It's not real."

His own voice spoke again, echoing in the basement of an abandoned steel work. He wants to move every which way and escape, he wants -

No, he needs his body to listen. Needs something anything. Someone, anyone. 

"It's not real."

He wants to look at his clone, plant his feet, charge at it like a bull, and stop it before it can get him first. The version that's so unhim that he could laugh if the icy feeling of fear wasn't spreading through his veins rapidly. He wants to laugh. Maybe if he acted crazy enough, it'd scare off the creature. But maybe he was just crazy. The creature.

The creature is somewhere around here. He just doesn't know where. He just needs to run. Suddenly, something hits him in the chest. He falls back. He can hear groaning growling. The moans of bodies morphed beyond recognition. His eyes are squeezed tight. He gasps as he opens them wide. He's showered in bright neon colors. The lights belong to none other than starcourt mall. A sharp, sharp pain shoots deep within his chest. He wants to claw at it. He wants to get it out. The lights are flashing, and he's screaming. At least he thinks so. Unless his clone is once again mocking his voice. His torso is bursting in white hot flashes. His throat feels like it'll split in two. Everything's flashing. It's like the mall is covered in a dozen strobe lights. The voices plead with Billy to free them. That they'll be good, they won't tell. And Billy wants to so badly tell them it's not him. Billy could never do those things. While he gasps for breath, a seething hot wave pulls him under. It burns. It burns like a bitch but it's better than the cold. Everything's blacked out. And yet.

All he can focus on is the pressure on his shoulder. Finally, finally he can move his body again. And he jabs at the figure behind him.

Figure behind him.

He opens his eyes.

When did he close his eyes?

He's at the sauna?

What time is it?

What happened?

Was he still screaming?

His mouth closes. His face is so wet and he doesn't know if it's from tears or sweat. His chest is so tight. And he gasps for a breath he cannot have. His throat is so dry. Everything aches. Everything.

"Billy.."

A voice said from behind, it had to belong to the same figure from before.

He turns slowly, his body, he has control of his body now. 

Steve. 

Steve's here with a hand over where Billy elbowed him, eyebrows furrowed with concern and mouth twisted in pain.

Billy must have had another episode.

Fuck.

They're getting more frequent and he isn't sure why, he just knows he's embarrassed someone was out here to catch him mid-episode. 

Out here- at the pool? What's Steve doing at the pool?

He wants to ask but when he goes to open his mouth all that leaves is a squeak, pain ricochets around his throat. He goes to place a hand on his own throat in an attempt to soothe the pain, taking his eyes off Steve. He notices something red gleam off the tips of his fingers deep in his nail beds. He feels the sinking feeling of utter panic, he whips his head around trying to spot something.

More blood, bodies, a flesh creature, anything. He looks down upon himself, realizing why his fingers are coated in red.

 He has been scratching the center of his chest hard enough to bleed, flesh still weak and in the process of healing. 

Healing- did he limp here? What time was it?

"Billy,"

The voice behind him says cautiously. Billy turns, he ignores the fact his breath is still uneven and that he's still shaking. 

"Are..you...okay...?"

Stupid fucking question. Of course he's not okay. He hasn't been okay for who knows how long.

He nods anyway. 

"...okay."

Steve said, keeping his distance like Billy was a wild animal ready to bite. And maybe he was. Billy was a diseased animal, he needed to be put down. For a fleeting second he wonders if Steve will do the honors.

"Can you stand?"

Steve asks, still several feet away, Billy turns his head away, twisting it back for so long causes it to ache, but so does everything. He sniffles and wipes his face with a sweaty arm. 

'Can you stand '. Can he? 

He tries to get his legs under him but moving makes everything hurt and he thinks collapsing in the middle of the sauna and passing out sounds pretty good right about now. 

A pained groan comes up from his pulsing chest and out his aching throat, Steve seems to inch closer slowly, like he'd spook Billy if he came any faster.

He hesitates before helping Billy up. Billy wasn't as big as he was before the incident, but that didn't stop him from getting back into weight lifting before the doctors gave him the ok. He'll be damned if he needs to wait a year or so before he can go back to pushing iron. 

But being in the hospital for a few months does leave him pretty weak. This means Steve lifts him up with surprising ease. 

Billy groans as he goes up, Steve mumbles out apologies.

"Did you walk here??"

He questions, his breath right behind Billy's ear.

 Billy wants to shrug, but he knows the answer. He would have probably been wrapped around a tree if he drove, if he ever drives again. So he nods. Billy can practically feel Steve's concerned expression. 

"Let me take you home, Max is worried about -"

With the little strength he has, he tries to yank himself out of Steve's loose enough grip. He ends up colliding with the floor. Hard. A groan is punched out of him. 

"Shit, Billy!" Steve gasps out. Billy's fine, he's not fragile. If he was, he'd be long dead. 

Something deep down wishes he was.

But he's still kicking and until he manages to kick his own bucket he'll keep fighting like he's been for the past 18 years. 

"Why would you do that?"

Steve asks, like he's crazy, and he guesses he is crazy- and like- to be fair when you're minds possessed you're never really ever sane after it.

"Billy, c'mon let me take you home, man. Max called me all frantic saying you, were out freaking the fu- freaking out."

Billy shakes his head, he feels multiple sharp pains. It's like his nerves are being pinched everytime he moves too quickly. But without his voice all he has is his body. And without his body he has nothing.

Steve gives an exasperated sigh behind him.

"..F-fine, let's go to my house."

Billy pauses at that, Steve's house. With Steve and his parents? That might be worse, at least he knows how to handle Neil, at least Neil knows he's crazy. He begins to shake his head again before Steve continues on.

"You're out here, freaking the fuck out, at like- 2am, you broke into the pool, and not to mention you're bleeding. So come with me, man, my parents aren't home if that's what you're worried about."

Billy takes a second. He guesses he doesn't have too many options. And he assumes Steve won't let him pass out in the sauna, heat cranked to the max. So he hesitantly nods. Quickly glancing back at Steve to gauge his reaction, sees relief clear on his features. And isn't that something.

What went wrong with Billy, huh?

He's a fucking inconvenience for Steve Harrington, and not in the way he would've liked to be, the way he was before it all went south. 

He's too wrapped up in his own thoughts to realize Steve's come over, waiting for Billy to notice the distance he's closed, he looks like he's about to reach out, just waiting on Billy's 'a-ok'. 

Billy doesn't nod this time. He just stares into dark brown eyes. And before he knows it, he's watching Steve Harrington wrap his arms around him and is using said man to help keep his balance. 

It looks like Steve wants to say something, but he never does for the entire journey. They reach the gate Billy must've ripped open, somehow managing to tear apart whatever kept the gate closed. Maybe it isn't too surprising. It wasn't all that strong, but neither is Billy. 

The moment they reach Steve's car, Steve's basically sliding him into the passenger seat with a huff and buckling him in. Billy would complain, but his hands still continue to shake, and they're about to get on his nerves if they keep it up.

"Good?"

Steve asks, likes Billy's one of his fucking kids.

Billy nods, making sure his face twists into something annoyed.

"Great."

Steve says, he slides away from Billy, shutting the door hard, making Billy flinch, Billy isn't sure if he even saw it or not. He just makes his way to the other side of the car and slides in. 

He taps two fingers on the steering wheel, humming a familiar song as he starts up the car. He puts his hand on Billy's head-rest, twisting to look behind the car as he backs out. Billy deliberately looks out his own window. 

The drive is a lot like the walk to the car, Steve looks like he wants to say something but they continue forward in silence. 

Until Steve breaks it,

"So uh, sleep walking?"

Billy's confused and turns towards Steve saying nothing.

Steve takes his silence as a sign to continue.

"I- just- I used to sleep walk when I was little, and it kinda started up again when I first found out..y'know..about the upside down, and all that. And I know a few metho-"

"It's not sleep walking. I can hardly fucking walk."

Billy cuts in, voice cold like stone. It's hoarser than he'd want it to be but what can he do about that.

Steve shuts his mouth,

"..Right."

There's a moment of silence after, Billy could have confused it for something comfortable but then Steve breaks it again. 

"Do you know what it is then?"

"Doctor says it's like PSPD or something.."

"PTSD?"

Steve questions 

"That's probably it."

Steve opens his mouth, and shuts it while nodding. 

"Is there a way to..fix...it?"

Steve questions 

Something heats up inside, angers a quick thing for Billy, always has been. When he was torn apart, everything that was him leaked out, except the anger he guesses, sometimes more prevalent than ever. 

" 'Fix it.' "

Billy repeats with an amused huff. His smile is insincere, like he finds Steve's stupidity funny. 

Steve tenses at that, clearly regretting his own choice of words. With a mumbled out 'Sorry' from Steve, the conversation dies just as quickly as it began. Billy is kinda thankful, his throats fucking killing him. And it takes too much brain power to have a conversation with Steve.

So he settles in his seat, watching all the figures and trees flash by, it's pitch dark in Hawkins. Or atleast feels it. Despite that, though, he feels safe in Steve's BMW. With the heat turned up and the spiked bat in reach in the back footwell. Slowly the adrenaline fades, the burning pulsing pain from his chest slowly sets in, and the throbbing ache from his muscles begin to scream at him. He knows he'll feel worse when he wakes up but he's exhausted for now. Slowly his eyes start to feel heavier. And he doesn't even remember nodding off. 

.

.

He wakes with a start. Almost jabs Steve Harrington again. He's dazed and confused. Still drowsy with sleep, even if it only lasted minutes. He has to sit and blink as Steve awkwardly stands and stares at him, car door open wide. 

Steve- he's at Steve's house. He remembers. He groans as he throws his feet out to the side, landing them on the cement below. He immediately tries to push himself up but gets a sharp feeling..well..everywhere. 

"Woah there tough guy!"

Steve exclaims, hands immediately there to help Billy.

He awkwardly maneuvers Billy up and out of the car, shoving the door closed with a slam that has Billy tensing for a second. But Steve hardly notices as he tries to balance Billy on himself. They successfully re-enact the walk from the pool. As they once again walk in silence, with Steve looking as though he wants to say something, but keeping his jaw shut.

Steve awkwardly unlocks his door.

He shuffles Billy all the way from the foyer to the couch and sorta dumps him there with a sigh. It makes Billy groan. Which in turn has Steve giving out a mumbled, 'Sorry.'

"Uh..Do you want something to drink..?"

Steve asks while straightening up.

Billy just nods, doesn't even look at him.

Steve wanders off into the kitchen and leaves Billy to his own thoughts.

Billy looks around. He's known Steve for a while, they're not close. But ever since Billy sacrificed himself to a flesh monster, they've been amicable. Harrington turned into "Just Steve, man." during his stay in the hospital, a few weeks after he woke up. They don't smoke together, because Billy's lungs can't handle it anymore. They make small talk when they see each other, on the semi-rare occasion it happens. 

Billy's seen his house when he had to pick up Max, way before the accident. Nothing in the house has really changed. Which is kinda crazy because for Billy everything's changed.

He hears Steve's soft thuds from behind him as Steve re-enters the room. He hands him his glass, it's cool to the touch. Billy hesitates before downing it all. The chill of it makes him feel uneasy, but God, the water helps soothe his aching throat, and he never wants to stop. Some spills on him but he could care less. His chest is already sticky and wet from his own blood.

When he finishes, he sighs, and sets his own cup down. Remembering Steve's existence. 

Steve's seated on the coffee table a little to Billy's left. He just stares. A blank expression on his face as he gives Billy a once over. Something Billy would've relished before the Summer. 

Billy can guess how he looks, his hair a little smushed and frizzy. Eyes a little wild, eye bags deeply sunken giving him an exhausted look, he's becoming paler, and his freckles are becoming harder to see. His shirt is ripped in some places but mainly the center, with dried blood soaking through it from his chest. His hands and fingers covered in his own blood. Nails jagged. His pajama pants are dirtied, and he only has a pair of socks on. If they didn't have holes already they certainly do now. 

Steve notices that Billy has caught onto his staring.

"You see the same guy as Will Byers, right? Dr. Owen's?"

Billy just swallows his own saliva and gives a silent nod.

"He'll probably take a look at your chest or something. But for now I don't think it should be too bad just from looking at it. I'll just clean it up so it doesn't get infected."

Billy tenses at this. 

"I can do it."

Billy says gruffly

"Yourself?"

Steve says, giving Billy a look.

"Myself."

He nods

Steve stares at him silently, Billy could practically hear the cogs turning.

"Fine."

Steve says with a sigh, standing up, as he leaves

"Just give me a moment to find a first aid kit."

And with that Billy's alone. The pain starts to really throb.

.

.

Apparently the first aid kit wasn't a hard find. Billy hardly even had time to examine the Harrington's fancy ass living room. A couple of framed photos here, a baby picture or two there. Random canvases with splashed color, which Billy doesn't really think should count as art but whatever.

Billy expects Steve to place down the kit, and let him fuck around with the supplies himself, not like it's his first rodeo. 

But when Billy reaches for it Steve slides it back.

"We gotta do it in the bathroom, my dad would actually kill me if I got blood on this couch."

Billy wonders for a fleeting second if Pretty Boy, Steve Harrington, gets beaten by his father, maybe that's why he's so shit at fighting. To pussy to fight back against his own dad like Billy, but to pussy to even start a fight period, unlike Billy. But nah, he doesn't seem like the type, at least not like how Billy turned out. 

Whatever. It didn't matter. Because suddenly Billy is being uplifted for what feels like the 5th time this night. And if Billy covered in blood, dirt, and sweat wasn't pathetic enough. Needing help off a couch really solidified it. 

He balances on Steve, with the adrenaline completely drained, exhaustion and pain wear his body down, without really thinking about it, he puts his full weight onto Steve and begins to drag his feat. He doesn't really notice until Steve speaks up.

"C'mon, work with me man, you can't fall asleep yet."

With a bit of a groan, he tries to plant his feet, take some weight, but exhaustion just pulls him right back down.

"I think I'll be fine.. if I fall asleep now, deal with it later."

He mumbles out, yawning at the end of his sentence. Words a bit slurred, eyes feeling heavy.

"Billy, we're almost there. You just gotta work with me here, alright?"

Billy agrees, not half sure what he's agreeing to. 

In what feels like no time at all, he's plopped down on cold porcelain that has him hissing right back awake.

"Sorry.."

Is all he gets from Steve, who is apparently incapable of letting Billy down gently. Billy gives an annoyed groan back in response. 

Now more alert, he watches as Steve places the medical kit on the counter, clicking it open, his eyes scan the inside of it clearly searching for something. Suddenly those brown eyes are on him and Billy just stares back.

"We obviously have to get your shirt off.."

Steve says sheepishly.

Billy really wishes Harrington asked him this way before the 4th of July, before he was tattered and ruined. Nothing but scarred meat. 

"Ya alright.."

Billy says, tone somehow heavy yet empty.

He goes to pull it over his head. But the pain stops him. Pain always stops him. Struggling to put a shirt on and taking a shirt off is all a part of the healing process. That's what they tell him. Bullshit he thinks. 

Pain shoulda fucking killed him.

Steve meekly watches him. Clearly unsure what the best choice of action is, help Billy out or just let him struggle. He knows better than to think Billy will ask for help.

Eventually however Steve makes his choice.

"Here- let me."

Billy sighs and stops struggling, keeping his eyes on Steve as he takes a few steps towards Billy. 

Suddenly Steve is right there, grabbing the bottom of Billy's shirt to pull it over his head. 

Steve does so slowly and carefully, afraid to hurt Billy anymore. A few hisses later Steve finally pulls the shirt over Billy's head. Billy quickly drops his arms once the shirt is in Steve's grasp.

His arms sore from the strain of being held up for so long. His chest being no help with the pain. 

Almost unconsciously , Steve reaches out, moving hair out of Billy's eyes and smoothing it out to the side. He freezes up at the contact. 

Steve finally realizes what he's doing and immediately backs up like he's been burned. His face quickly warms up. His mouth opens to most likely apologize, but it closes with a peep.

"Let me get you a uh..wash cloth..just hold on."

Steve says, turning around.

Billy says nothing. Watching the back of Steve's head as he moves. His brown locks bounce with each step. 

Steve walks a little awkwardly, like he knows Billy's watching. He shuffles from a cabinet retrieving a washcloth, all the way back to the counter. Turning on the faucet, waiting for the water to warm up.

"So uh..how's life..?"

Steve says, a look of immediate regret passes over his features.

"Fucking blows, man."

Billy sighs.

"Ya, I could imagine."

Another pause from Steve, who apparently can't stay silent for more than a minute. 

"How's..Max been..?"

"..Fine I guess.."

Billy feels generous, responding to Steve's stilted and awkward small talk. He could stay silent and answer with nothing but a glare, but he chooses not to. For Steve's sake ateast.

"Cool cool cool.."

Steve trails off, turning his attention back to the sink. He feels under the water before holding the cloth under it. Letting it soak. He grabs a soap bar off the tray from the side and soaps it up mildly. Squeezing out the excess water. He turns off the water when he's done. The sound of running water coming to a stop.

He takes the few steps it takes to get to Billy handing him the cloth with a "Here".

Billy's hand meets his in taking the cloth. Billy pretends to have no reaction when he feels Steve's cooling and wet hand. 

Slowly he presses the cloth to his chest. A small hiss coming from his mouth. He tries to gently swipe away any dirt that may reside in the wound. Which fuck, he didn't think it would hurt so much. He curls into himself due to the sting. 

His body is so weak. His body is so weak and he's so furious. His body is so weak and he knows he'd be better of dead. 

This shouldn't hurt that much. This little sting in his center should be nothing. But all he can think about is being gouged out. A pain so fucking painful and sharp all he wanted was death. 

Something so white and hot it had Billy pleading for a release. He undid his own healing unconsciously. Billy's body knows he should be dead. Billy's own body wants him dead. Dead for all the things he's done. He deserves it. He knows it.

But maybe Death would have been a mercy. A forgiveness. And Billy never gets a mercy nor a forgiveness. Maybe this is hell. 

Suddenly Billy is snapped out of his own thoughts when two firm hands are placed on his shoulders pulling him upward.

And suddenly Steve's voice is clear as day.

"Hey hey hey hey, what's wrong?"

And Billy can't answer. He just stares. Stares at the beautiful boy knelt in front of him. Eyes big and concerned. Eyebrows scrunched with worry. Face contorted with distress. 

"I--..I-.."

Billy tries. But his body racks with sobs. And Billy hadn't even realized he'd started crying. God this is miserable, pathetic and miserable. Billy is pathetic and miserable.

Billy just cries, a whimper slipping out and Steve just shushes him. Rubbing his shoulders in an attempt to soothe. 

Billy hiccups and his body flashes in pain. Which just has Billy crying harder. His head hurts. His legs hurt. His chest hurts.

"E-Everything h..hu-rts.."

Billy finds himself sobbing out. Doesn't even mean too. 

Steve pauses his movements. He thinks for a second and starts petting Billy's hair, albeit unsure and awkward at first. But as Billy leans into the touch he gets more confident and continues.

"Hey hey..it's okay..c'mon, let's finish up and then you can go to bed, okay?"

Billy doesn't respond, just angrily wipes the tears in his eyes. God he is such a child. He's so stupid. Fuck.

He remembers the cloth in his hand. It's chilled. The cold water runs down his arm as he realizes he's been squeezing it. He hates this. 

He just wants to be done. So he brings the cloth back to his chest. However he presses too hard, causing a sharp and jagged nail to accidentally scratch over the wound. He lets out a pained whine. 

"Here let me."

Steve says, reaching for the cloth. Billy's grip goes slack. Meaning Steve takes it without any trouble.

He's trying to reel back his crying but everything is just so...much.

He just wants to be comforted. But he knows he would never let himself live it down if he was. God Steve probably thinks he's pathetic..not thinks knows. He's being such an inconvenience. Has been. Steve's probably exhausted. Probably wants him out of the house as soon as possible and Billy can't even blame him.

Steve wipes at the wound gently, and wipes at the grime and the blood on his chest. He wipes at Billy's hands, tries to get dirt and blood out from under his fingernails. He stands up to rinse the towel. Billy can't help the whine he lets out. The hand in his hair gone along with Steve's body heat. Billy is cold. The water is cold. 

Steve gets the faucet running again and waits for it to warm up. 

Billy angrily wipes at his tears and his runny nose like a child. Neil would be so disappointed if he saw Billy now. Neil is always disappointed in Billy.

Billy knows thinking these things is doing nothing to help the crying. But he just can't help it. His mind spirals. Spirals and spirals and spirals. And he feels like he's losing it. 

Suddenly Steve's back in front of him. He's wiping the grime off Billy's face. Wiping off tears, and snot, and blood. And Billy feels so pitiful, but also something in his heart is warmed. No one has done this for him since his mother. 

"I think your hair is..pretty..clean..I'd say.."

Steve says inspecting it. Pulling out another cloth Billy didn't notice him grab. It's dry and it's fluffy.

Billy doesn't respond. 

 Steve pats both Billy's chest and face dry. While just wiping off his hands he stands. 

Eventually Steve fumbles around in the med kit. He holds the antiseptic up in success. 

"This might burn."

Steve says, looking at him as he pours a generous amount on the dry towel. 

Billy nods at that. Hisses when it touches his skin. Sinks his nails into his legs. Not enough to break skin but enough to leave crescent shaped imprints.

"Sorry."

Steve mumbles out.

Sorry for what exactly, Billy isn't sure. Maybe the sting, maybe the situation. Maybe for something more. 

"Pretty sure we're done here. C'mon let's get you some clean clothes."

Steve says, calmly.

"Mmm."

Is all Billy can get out. Too afraid his voice will crack with a sob. He thinks if he speaks he'll cry harder. His tears have started slowing down.

Steve hauls him up. Keeping him closer than the other times. Kinda like a hug with both hands wrapped around Billy. Billy leans into it. 

Suddenly Steve is pulling him back into their usual, awkward walking while joint together position and they both make their way to Steve's stairs. 

"You think you can handle stairs?"

"Fucking c-course I handle stairs."

Billy sniffles out. Crying almost coming to a stop with a tear slipping out every now and then, instead of every second.

"Stellar."

Steve says, a note of relief in his voice. 

So, slowly but surely they make their way up the Harrington's steps. Fancy railing and all. Art lined up against the wall.

Billy feels ready to pass out once they reach the top. He's breathing kinda heavy and tries to pass off his big intake of breath as sniffling. 

Once they reach Steve's bedroom. Steve gently deposits him on the bed this time. 

And with his long legs, makes his way to his own closet. He shuffles through some stuff. Pulls out a warm looking Hawkins High Tigers hoodie. Then strides to his dresser, pulling out long pajama pants, and then some cozy looking socks.

Billy just watches him silently. Crying have stopped by now. Shame and embarrassment curls in his stomach. 

"Sorry."

Billy says, intensely staring at a framed picture of a sports car. Like it's the one who deserves an apology.

"I get it man."

Steve says, dumping the clothes onto the bed. "Nothing to be sorry for, gotta let it out sometime I guess."

Billy still doesn't look at him. 

Pauses.

Breathes.

Thinks.

"I'm sorry for..everything."

He feels the weight of the bed sink next to him, alerting Billy that Steve Harrington has sat down right next him, listening. 

"I'm sorry for beating your face in, and for basketball. And for being a jerk..and whatever else."

There's a pause, and Billy feels himself prickle with anxiety.

"I know I was really an asshole..still am..."

He says when Steve gives nothing but silence. He doesn't even chance looking at him. Doesn't dare it.

He jumps from the hand on his shoulder, but it stays a firm touch. He whips his head around and Steve is a lot closer than he was before.

"I forgive you."

Steve says, brown eyes big and daunting. His eyebrows are raised. Like he's shocked at Billy's words.

Billy just gulps and nods in response. He feels tears threaten to spill. Doesn't know why.

Steve's arm slides down his back and before he knows it Steve's leaning in.

It's a hug.

It's awkward, and it's weird.

Billy doesn't remember the last time he was hugged.

Max tried a few times in the hospital but all she got in return from him were a few hard finches, and a breath of anticipated pain.

She didn't keep trying after a while.

Girls embrace Billy. When they wanted him. Billy could never get himself to feel a spark of mutuality, it always left something empty. 

It didn't feel like this. He knows that.

A tear slides down his cheek. He doesn't make a move to wipe it, let's it drop onto Steve's shoulder.

He feels his body untense. He begins to relax and lean into it.

All too quickly Steve is leaning back and away.

"You should uh, probably get changed."

Billy just nods, tries to wipe his eyes as discreetly as possible.

"Ya..probably."

"I'll go make uh, what like tea?"

Steve says, shoulders shrugging. "People drink tea to relax, right?..Do you even like tea?"

Steve questions standing up.

Before Billy could even respond Steve continues,

"I mean I've never really made tea before? It's my mom's actually but I don't think she'll mind."

"Steve."

Billy says, a little loud, a little broken.

Steve pauses and actually looks at Billy from where he's now stood.

"Tea's fine. Just don't burn it."

Billy says, tries to sound sarcastic, just sounds a little fond.

"Can you burn tea?"

Steve says, genuine concern.

",Can you...Harrington, go get me my tea."

Billy says in a huff.

Steve salutes him like the dork he is and suddenly he's off. 

Billy is left in Steve's place. With Steve's clothes on Steve's bed. 

Steve, Steve, Steve.

It's like a mantra.

He starts with his gross socks. They're all torn and can't be saved. He's definitely throwing them out when he has the chance. His feet are kinda dirty too but he has to ignore it. He slides on the pair Steve gave him and tries not to cringe at the grime on his feet.

Next are the pants, he shucks them off, it's easy. They're not his skinny jeans, pants which have been collecting dust in his closet since the summer. He slides on Steve's Pj pants. They're plaid and basically cover his feet with how long they are. 

The hoodie is where he finds a bit of difficulty.

He leans down, bowing his head into the hole. And slowly but surely puts his arms into the sleeves. It aches but he manages.

He finally pulls it down once his arms are through.

He sighs and looks around. 

So much plaid.

Fuck he's tired. Bone tired. 

He leans back on Steve's bed. Feet still planted on the floor. Before he knows it he's drifting. Not asleep, not awake. Just that in between. His dreams grasp at his consciousness in an attempt to pull him under. He drifts and drifts and drifts.

And suddenly there's a presence and he's thrusting himself forward. Wakes up in the process. He has to stay alert. 

"Oh woah- shit sorry didn't mean to wake you."

Billy takes a moment.

Steve's in different clothes, his own pj pants, that almost match the ones Billy's got on. And some ratty looking t-shirt. When did that happen?

"Wasn't even sleeping.."

"Uh huh.."

Steve says, squints like he doesn't believe him. Billy doesn't blame him. 

"Well here's your tea."

Steve says stepping forward, arm outstretched, mug in hand.

"You're telling me you don't have fancy little tea cups made just for this occasion lying around?"

Billy says, both hands out to grasp the cup.

"I'm sorry, are these not up to your standards?"

Steve huffs out, smile on his face.

Billy just smiles back, his hands touch Steve's when he's handed the mug but he pretends like his heart doesn't skip a beat. It's stupid. He's stupid.

He just shrugs and goes to take a sip of his tea.

It's scalding. He should have known that from the heat radiating off the mug.

"Shit sorry- it's hot."

He pulls the mug away. Gulps down the tea already in his mouth and it burns all the way down.

Maybe it's the heat of the tea, but the words slide out.

"Why're you always apologizing?"

Steve seems taken aback by this. Billy realizes what he said and suddenly his shoulders are to his ears.

"Guess..I just feel like..everything's my fault."

And it's surprisingly honest. Billy's at a loss for words. He doesn't do this. Feelings. Honesty. 

He just nods along and thankfully Steve takes this as a cue to keep going.

He nervously runs a hand through his hair, sets his own cup of steaming tea down on the desk nearby. Pulls out the chair and sits on it backwards, leaning over the back of it. 

"Y'know after Nancy, I just had so much to apologize for, it just knocked me into perspective, I mess a lot of shit up, and I'm not even aware of it half the time.."

He says, glancing at Billy, but his plaid walls seem to catch his eye.

"I think you overshoot."

"Huh?"

Dark brown eyes now on him.

"You're just as bad at apologizing as you are in basketball, you overshoot."

"Thanks."

Steve says with an eye roll.

"You apologize for like, everything. You're almost as bad as one of the Byers."

Steve laughs at that.

"Maybe, but maybe I'm just not an asshole like you are."

Billy just chuckles back, he thinks he should be angry but he just nods in agreement.

Tension releases from his shoulders. Tea hot, heavy, and grounding in his hands.

"I'm working on it...being less of an asshole."

Billy says into his mug.

Steam rises up at him in response.

"Ya well, it's a rocky road, trust me I know."

"Tell me about it."

They fall back into a silence. 

"Did Tommy ever tell you about that time we spray painted shit about Nance on the Hawk?"

Billy digs through his memories, back when he was a little more ignorant than before. Not happy, just oblivious.

"Maybe mentioned it once or 20 times.."

Steve laughs at this. It's like song birds or some corny shit. Something too sappy for Billy to even handle.

"Guy talked about you a lot."

"Ya well."

Steve says with a shrug.

"When he helped me spray paint that shit about Nancy, I thought I'd never stop being an asshole. Because that's like the ultimate asshole thing anyone can do, or just about."

Billy just nods along as Steve runs his hands through hair, thinking.

"But I think, like, our guilt keeps us redeemable, and so does the want to improve."

"Deep."

"Thanks, I'm thinking of writing a book."

Steve jokes, twisting around in the chair cracking his back as he says it. Joke clear in his inflection.

"Would you actually?"

"God no. Can't even write a B+ essay, I'm more likely to kill myself before I could create what the fucks it called- my magana opposite?"

"Magnum Opus?"

"Probably, fuck if I know."

Billy just laughs at that.

"Well if it helps I think it's working."

Steve looks at him confused, he tilts his head slightly and it's so cute Billy wants to scream, maybe shake his fist at God or something.

"Being less of an asshole," Billy clarifies

", you're like..." Billy trails off trying to find the right thing to say. Steve waits him out. "You're just- okay. I don't know how to word it exactly, but you're cool, and it's obvious you're not an asshole- anymore at least."

Billy's face is red and he knows it. He takes a long sip of tea, and it's cooled down enough so it won't actually burn the roof of his mouth. He closes his eyes as he does so.

"Thanks."

Billy looks at Steve who's looking at him and he can't help the butterflies that flutter around in his stomach. No matter how much bleach, drano, or even fabric softener he consumed, the butterflies seemed to live on. 

Billy realizes he doesn't feel empty, or crazy, or terrified in this moment, it's a good reprieve. 

"Should probably hit the hay soon."

Steve says from his spot on the chair and all Billy can do is nod in agreement.

He hops off his chair, makes his way to the bed. Billy sits and watches waiting to be directed to a guest room or like the couch or something.

"Whatcha waiting for? Come here."

Steve pats the side of the bed beside him, he has this underlying anxious look on his face but yet he smiles and his posture is straight.

Billy is so taken aback by this invitation he just kinda does it.

He gets up, albeit slowly. And stumbles to the side of the bed Steve's hand was patting only moments ago. He gingerly sits down, and just looks at his hands.

"Can you sleep with the lights on?"

Steve asks out of the blue.

Billy turns to look at him.

"Huh?"

Steve looks sheepish.

"I just- nevermind, do you.. want the lights off?"

Billy is at a loss for words. In the hospital he'd always sleep with the lights on because with sleeping meds it never really mattered. When he got back home and Neil refused to refill his sleeping meds. He just slept with the lights off because Neil would have an absolute fit about the electrical bill. He guesses he kinda preferred it. With the lights on he felt like a target. Like it'd spot him again. A shining beacon.

"It's whatever, I usually sleep with them off."

He says gruffly.

"Sounds good."

Steve says, with a bit of edge. 

Billy slowly lets himself lay down. It aches in some places but he'll live. He misses sleeping on his side. This is like when Neil bruised him so bad on one of his sides he'd have to sleep on his back for 2 weeks or at least until the bruising went down. But this has been months. Months of back laying.

Steve lays on his back parallel to Billy. It's silent. And Billy isn't sure if what he feels is tension of some sort.

He doesn't know how long time passes. He never feels Steve's breathing slow. But he's once again between awake and asleep. Drifting.

He's brought back by Steve humming. It was the same song he was humming in the car. Quietly but still clear enough to carry a tune, Steve whisper sings.

"You're out of touch, I'm out of time." 

"What song is that?"

Billy asks, and in return Steve flinches.

"Holy shit I thought you were asleep. We're you? Did I wake you?"

"No, just been drifting."

"Oh..sorry anyways."

"S' fine. You got a pretty good voice."

"Thanks, my mom put me in lessons when I was younger."

"Wish I could sing."

Billy says, his eyes close again. Steve hums in acknowledgement.

"Out of touch."

"Hm?"

Billy feels movement at his side and his eyes open again, his head turns and even in the dark he sees big brown eyes staring back at him.

"The song name."

"Is that what you were humming earlier? In the car?"

"Yeah, it's been stuck in my head like all day."

"Song that good?"

"Yeah."

"Ya."

And Billy doesn't know what he's agreeing to exactly.

But what he does know is his hand finds Steve's under the sheets. And maybe it's because he's half asleep or something but he covers the hand. He doesn't know what to really expect.

Billy almost believes he's dreaming when Steve's hand flips to interlock their fingers. He moves to rest their hands on his hip. Probably more comfortable for Steve.

Steve scoots in closer. Pressing his face against Billy's shoulder. And Billy hums at peace. 

Steve keeps humming his tune, and it lulls Billy off to sleep. 

He thinks that when he wakes up, things will be different.

Hopes he isn't out of his head.