Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

He stares at his hands, feels like he’s scrubbed them raw across gravel. There’s nothing there, of course, but he can’t help and feel like there are tiny cuts all over his palms, bleeding and grimy. He stares at them until he can’t anymore and then he stares out the video store’s window aimlessly.  

It’s been a little over a month since the Starcourt Mall incident, since they faced off against the Mind Flayer, since they lost – yeah. Since they won but overall felt like they’d lost so much more. It’s been a month and Steve hasn’t slept properly in much longer if he’s being honest. The video store is a boring place to work at but at least it’s quiet. Then again, sometimes it’s too quiet and he has to start thinking again. That’s when he usually turns the volume on the big TV up, to drown out the buzzing that still haunts him when he’s alone.

Sometimes, he wishes he didn’t live alone for most of the year. Because the house is always silent to the point where he has to turn on the radio a room over in order to be able to sit still. Because he’s become fidgety since he first got involved with this whole upside-down thing. He can’t sit still, he can’t lay still, his hands are always looking for something to do, to touch, and to tear apart. Robin has had to stop him from going at their paper towels supply more times than he can count. Before the – before Starcourt Mall, she used to think he had ADHD, would call him the fiddler on the odd occasion while they worked at Scoops. And working at Scoops had helped some, he always had something to do, a spoon or a scooper to flip and twirl.

But that was gone now, too. And all that he was left with were a pen and a block of paper that Robin had shoved at him when he’d started driving her crazy with his fingers tapping against the counter. So far he’d drawn random shapes, ladders, written his name in there a bunch and scribbled down some of the better lines from the movie playing on said TV.

Once, he listed all of the basketball teams’ names he knew and Robin had called him a nerd of a different kind. And really, she’s right, he’s no better than the Party and their little game of pretend that ended up hitting too close to home. He doesn’t know how they can still play pretend like that when there are actual monsters out there.

Well, hopefully there aren’t any more of them left but he’s not holding his breath.

“I didn’t give you that pen so that you can click it, and my nerves, into oblivion.” Robin hip-checks him out of his stupor and he grunts, elbow buckling in surprise.

He manages to catch himself before his chin hits the counter and he shoots her a glare. “This is a Family Video pen; you didn’t give it to me.”

“I did make you aware of its existence therefore I’ve given it to you.” She pops a bubble in his face and saunters away to return two tapes that had come in while Steve was zoning out.

“What are you absent about again, anyway? Too much hairspray got you high?” She calls and Steve winces at her volume.

“The usual stuff. You were on a break so it got real quiet in here. But now that’s over with so.” He makes a point by turning down the volume of the movie and she laughs. It’s a nice sound, he wishes he didn’t often associate it with the secret underground base and being drugged and high off his ass. A shame, really.

“Really, though.” She turns the corner around the comedy section. “The usual bad stuff or the usual boring stuff?”

“Neither. Both, I don't know.” He sighs. He’s not really thinking about anything other than having to go back to his empty house. He just wishes he had someone to come home to, someone to talk to. And sure, the Party has nights at his place but it’s not the same now that Will and El left. They don’t play anymore, they sit around and bother Steve to rent them PG rated horror movies. And he relents because, really, they’ve been through worse than what’s on those tapes. He’s afraid they’re growing out of their Dungeons and Gargoyles or whatever phase. He’s scared that they’ll grow out of hanging out with him, too, and then he’ll – well, he’ll still have Robin and Nance but it’s not the same.

He likes having the Party around, likes being responsible for something – for someone. He’s never had siblings and he doesn’t think his mom’s popping anymore children out anytime soon, so he – he enjoys being the big brother. It gives him something to do other than staring at his wall for the entire night or staring at the Family Video counter during his shifts.

“Just – sucks going back to an empty house. Makes me paranoid.” He finally gets out, fingers softly tapping against the counter, quiet enough that it doesn’t annoy Robin.

“Ooh, poor richboy, his house is too big, his rooms too vast!” She jumps up onto the counter and leans back.

“Stop that,” He tries to swat her off the thing but she pinches him with vicious nimble fingers so he gives up. “You could always drop by whenever you want.”

“And be seen leaving the Harrington Residence? Ew, no thanks.” She snorts and he, having not learned his lesson yet, tries to swat at her again. She repeats the motion and pinches just a little harder this time.

“I’ll think about it, Pretty Boy.” She jumps off the counter but Steve is left reeling faster than he can comprehend.

He almost recoils physically at the sudden pang of loss and hurt that surges up from deep inside him at the nickname. His whole body seizes and his heart starts beating, everything grows unfocused. He wheezes and Robin startles, turns around and jumps the counter in an impressive display of agility. He doesn’t realize he’s stopped breathing until her hands are frantically trying to get his chest to expand, smacking against his face gently.

The first breath he takes is painful, unbelievably so. He didn’t think breathing could be more painful than physical wounds he’d gained in his time. His chest thrums and his heart beat echoes. The TV is suddenly too loud and Robin’s skin is too warm. He slumps down behind the counter and buries his head between his knees. Pretty Boy echoes around inside his head over the noise of the movie, repeating until it becomes a loud roar that drowns everything else out. Plant your feet. Is that you Harrington? King Steve!  

“Steve!” A hand smacks him across the face and all noise stops abruptly. Something’s buzzing now lowly inside his head, but there are no more voices echoing. He blinks rapidly, meeting Robin’s slightly teary eyes. “Steve, man, what the fuck?”

“I – I don't know.” He gasps, his face feels wet. He wipes at it and leans back against the counter. The door opens and someone walks in. Robin pops up and pretends she hadn’t just witnessed Steve have an episode of something in the middle of the day. She’s good at that; pretending that nothing’s wrong.

The couple that had come in leaves and Robin’s fake smile vanishes. She drops back down to kneel next to him, hands on his knees.

“Harrington, what just happened?” Her voice is breathy like she’d just been running a marathon and he appreciates the concern but doesn’t know how to explain to her what he just went through without sounding like a nutcase.

“I don't know – I just, seized up, and then I wasn’t here at all – but I was here too much at the same time. It wasn’t – I’ve had panic attacks before, they’ve never felt like this.” He admits with a voice like he’d been gargling gravel. It occurs to him that he might have been screaming without even being aware of it.

“Do you – do you know why?” She asks and Steve, well, Steve knows why but he doesn’t know why.

“It’s the – the nickname it’s just something... Hargrove used to call me, like, a lot.” He admits and then, the strangest thing, he feels raw. He feels like someone’s scraped his insides clean out. And over Hargrove – over Billy, the asshole that punched his face in – out of all the people. Over the stupid idiot that saved them, that stopped the Mind Flayer from getting to El.

“Oh,” Robin drops back onto her ass, a complicated look crossing her face. “Oh.”

He wants to ask what the look is for, he really does, but he doesn’t think he can take any new information in at the moment. He nods and regrets it immediately as he’s hit with a spell of dizziness. He groans and clutches at his head, fingers gripping his hair. He tries to blink if away as black spots dance along his vision and something bright pops up in the corner of his eye. He turns to look but there’s nothing there. And why should there be? His head is killing him.

“I’ll take the rest of the shift. Go home and get some sleep, you sure as hell need it, man.” She untangles his hands from his hair and helps him stand. He sways on his feet and steadies himself against the counter. “You okay to drive?” She asks again, just to make sure.

He nods, doesn’t really trust himself to speak much. “Yeah, yeah I'm fine.”

“Okay. Call the store once you’re home, deal?” Robin gives him the most serious look he’s ever seen on her and he doesn’t have the words in him to protest.

He makes it home just fine. The house is as silent as always and the forest behind it looms ominously like it does usually.

He enters the hall and methodically starts turning all the lights in the house on, room by room. It drives the bill to crazy heights but it’s not like his parents care what he does to the house as long as he stays out of their bedroom and his dad’s office. So more often than not, his isolated house stays lit up through the night, especially during colder months where it’s dark out as early as 5 p.m.

He gets to the wall phone and calls up Family Video, waits for Robin to pick up and she does after three rings.

“Family Video, how may I help you?” She chirps in her customer service voice and he rolls his eyes fondly.

“It’s me,” He sighs, twirling the cord around his finger and leaning against the wall.

“‘Me’ who?”

And really, he can hear the smugness in her voice. It’s nice; it’s good to know that she isn’t going to probe for answers that Steve can’t give her at the moment. Robin’s good like that.

“Me, the president of the USA, I'm calling to let you know you’ve won an all-expense-paid trip to the White House.” He drones on in his best imitation of President Ronald Regan – which is to say, not very good.

“Fun, but like, fuck the government and eat the bourgeoisie.” She smacks her gum loudly and he snorts.

“Careful, talking like that’ll get you arrested.” Steve warns, not really meaning it but making conversation, trying to keep his mind off the emptiness of his house.

“At this point? Not even scared.” She declares bravely and he hears the sound of the store’s door opening. “Gotta go; feel free to phone in if you’re bored. Bye.”

She hangs up before he can say anything in response but, she has a point there. He puts the phone back in the holder and shakes out his limbs. He feels oddly stiff and contained within his own body. He feels like he could burst out of his own skin any moment now.

He decides that he probably won’t be able to keep any food down any time soon so he just enters the living room and plops down onto the couch, eyes trained on the ceiling and blinking the dryness away.

The clock on the wall ticks periodically. The pause between the ticks is filled with the sound of the tap dripping in the kitchen. It gives him something to focus on so that he can ignore the pounding of his own heard and the quiet shuffling next to him-

What the fuck.

He springs upwards, eyes wide and panicked as he searches for the source of the noise. Frantically, he thinks about the bat in his car and how he should probably get another one for the house. His eyes flit over the room in a hurry until he settles on – oh, fuck no.

“I'm losing it. I'm fucking losing it.” He hisses out, scrubbing his hands over his eyes until it hurts as he takes in the figure sitting in one of the cushy armchairs. The tight jeans, the half unbuttoned button-up, the loose blonde curls that spill over wide shoulders like rye swaying in the wind.

“Hargrove.” He breathes out and the figure startles, blue eyes turning to look at him in question.

“Harrington.” The boy, the thing, whatever this apparition is, sounds just as shocked as Steve feels. Honestly, fuck off universe.

They seem to be at a sort of standstill as they stare at each other, neither speaking a word past each other’s last names. He stands up first, leaving the room and heading upstairs. He’s obviously had a long day and he’s going to raid his dad’s liquor cabinet for the good scotch and then pass the fuck out, leave this wretched day behind.

But he enters the drawing room and there he is again, looking spooked and panicked – wild-eyed like a cornered animal, crazy even as a hallucination.

“Leave me alone.” He grumbles, not willing to acknowledge the hallucination fully. He wonders if somehow, along the way, he got drugged again. Or maybe he’s just asleep. But he hit his hand against the doorknob coming into the room and that hurt like a bitch so maybe he’s not dreaming. Probably the drugs, then. He’s going to sue the pants off of whoever did this.

He unscrews the cap on the bottle and tips it up, drinking straight from the source.

“Jesus, Harrington, slow down before you choke.” The Billy-shaped hallucination grumbles and Steve turns to glare at it out of habit. Then he gets startled because there’s still a Billy-shaped hallucination in the room with him, talking to him.

“Fuck off.” He grinds out and goes for another swig. The liquor burns all the way down and he absolutely despises the taste but who the fuck drinks it for the taste anyway? It occurs to him then, that he might be dying. Weren’t visual hallucinations symptoms of a brain tumor? He can't believe he survived hell just to die of a lame tumor. No, that’s mean, tumors aren’t lame. They’re a very serious issue and God, he hopes he doesn’t have one. He was looking forward to going to college next year.

He ignores the pained pinch of the hallucination’s eyebrows and leaves the room, bottle in tow. He’s going to finish the damn thing even if it kills him. Which goes against his previous spiel about not wanting to die but, whatever.

“If they place me in the looney bin, I'm gonna off myself.” He mumbles, kicking off his shoes and climbing into the bed, still in his work shirt and jeans. The Billy-shaped hallucination doesn’t leave but doesn’t try and talk him out of drinking the whole bottle either; it just sits on the chair by the window and stares at the pool and the forest behind the house.

Steve passes out staring at the hallucination’s profile and thinking about what he’d done to deserve this.

Steve wakes up with a roiling stomach and a massive headache but at least he’s managed to sleep some. He looks over at the night stand and groans, great. He has approximately thirty minutes to get his shit together and get down to Family Videos.

He’s doing some intense mental math in his head, trying to figure out how long his shower can last, when he spots it again. It being the hallucination from last night that’s eyeing him warily from the chair by the window where he’d last seen it.

“Still here?” He sighs, scrubbing a hand through his hair and messing it up further.

“Done with your tantrum?” The hallucination shoots back with a raised eyebrow and Steve throws his hands up in resignation.

“Whatever.” He can’t. He just – can't. He’s physically unable to deal with this right now because of the massive self-imposed hangover and the pain in his stomach and head. He’s so extremely over it that he doesn’t even protest when the hallucination shows up in his bathroom just as he enters the room. It seems like it’s just gonna be there no matter what so he might as well make his peace with it. He drops his jeans and the hallucination makes a startled noise. Steve, personally, finds it hilarious that it turns around to give him privacy like it’s not a part of his own subconscious.

During his, very unfortunately brief, shower he thinks about what could possibly be causing this. The brain tumor is still a viable option but, again – he hopes not. He also doesn’t think he was drugged. Nor does he think he harbors any feelings of guilt about the recently passed boy. Sure, it’s tragic but Steve, well, they weren’t friends. They sure as hell weren’t close. They were teammates at best and enemies at worst. Mostly, they ignored each other unless they happened to be waiting for the kids outside the Arcade at the same time. Then they’d exchange sarcastic comments and be on their merry way before any actual conversation could happen. No, not friends. And Billy had done what he had done and saved them and that was that. It was sad; he’s not going to deny that. But it’s what had to be done. They’re all alive now thanks to him. But maybe if Steve had been faster -

He scrubs at his skin furiously and decides to ignore the problem for now. He’s not going to try and talk to the hallucination; he’s not going to pay it any mind. He sure as hell isn’t going to tell anyone about it either. It’ll probably go away eventually, just like all his other problems in life.

And sure enough, once he’s out of the shower, the hallucination is gone. He breathes out a sigh of relief and wipes himself down quickly. He has time for a quick cup of coffee and some buttered toast before he has to leave in order to clock in on time. Sure, his head is still a mess and his eyes sting at the bright morning light but he’ll deal with it by taking a nap in the backroom later.

“You look like shit,” Robin greets him, already behind the counter and looking unbearably smug like that time the Girl Scouts that visited Scoops on Sunday afternoon declared her their favourite despite Steve’s best efforts.

“Feel like it, too, thanks.” He grunts and accepts the mug of coffee she slides him. It’s more sugar than coffee – the way she likes it – but he doesn’t complain.

She leans forward and pokes his forehead, trying to get the frown there to smooth out. “Rough night? I thought I told you to get some sleep.”

Yeah, no, just started hallucinating a little and then drank myself into unconsciousness. He thinks bitterly and shakes his head, leaning away from her imploring gaze.

“Nightmares. Can’t really help those.” He says even though, for once, there were no nightmares. Not the ones in his sleep anyway. Seeing Billy in his house when he knows the other boy’s dead – well, that’s another form of horror. A new form of torture.

“Fair,” She concedes and he breathes out, happy to have his peace for now.

It doesn’t last because as soon as the clock hits four p.m. Dustin comes barrelling into the store, Lucas and Max hot on his trail. The curly-haired nerd is carrying a pile of movies with him that need returning and Steve sighs.

“Hi nerds, what are you up to?” He tries to smile but his dismay doesn’t go unnoticed by the nerd-troop.

“You look terrible, what happened? Are you sick? Did you get attacked? Was it the nightmares? Are your parents back? Is it Nancy?” The kids all lean towards him much like Robin had earlier and Steve uses the palm of his hand to push Dustin off the counter.

“First of all, hello, Steve, it’s nice to see you? Oh? Yes, we’d like to return these, please!” He chirps cheerfully and takes the five cases from the boy’s hands. “Nothing’s wrong, buddy, I’m just tired. Haven’t been sleeping well. And God, no, I don’t think they’re coming back even if I was dying.”

“Who said anything about dying?!” Dustin shrieks and Lucas and Max shush him aggressively.

He shoots them a grateful look and focuses back on the main banshee. “Nobody. Because I’m not. I just couldn’t sleep. That’s all.”

“The human body can go around ten days without sleeping before psychosis sets in. Sleep deprivation can cause hallucinations, weight loss, early onset dementia and various mental illnesses.” Max rattles on like she’s read and remembered and recited this particular speech more times than she can count.

Hallucinations. This is what his mind gets stuck on. And as if summoned, a gasp sounds behind him and he yelps, startling the brats.

“What?! What is it?” Dustin shrieks.

“A mouse! I think I saw a mouse!” He throws out uselessly and Lucas starts screaming loud enough that Robin, on the other side of the store, starts yelling at them to shut the fuck up.

“It’s gone! It’s gone, it went into the backroom!” He holds out his hands in a placating manner, trying not to laugh at the way Lucas is clinging to Max who’s red in the face and probably embarrassed on his account.

Slowly, fearfully, he turns his head to the side. Blonde curls and a startlingly pallid profile, eyes wide and tearful.

“Max” The Billy-shaped hallucination breathes out like a prayer and everything in Steve aches at the sad sound.

“You guys wanna take anything out? My treat.” He offers to distract them from the mental breakdown he’s about to have.

Dustin is out of his view and between the shelves sooner than he can comprehend, Max and Lucas trailing him slowly – the redheaded girl trying to comfort her boyfriend about his manly screeching.

He breathes out a sigh, slumping down and smacking his forehead against the counter. “Thought I told you to leave me alone.” He murmurs, knowing instinctively that the hallucination will hear him.

“Yeah, I’m not exactly having a fun time either, Harrington.” The hallucination grunts.

“Will you go away if I have a full night’s sleep?” He turns his head, peeking one eye open to observe the blonde vision.

Billy frowns down at him, eyebrows drawing closer together. “I don’t think so.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of.” He sighs and straightens up, ready to play nice as the kids come back with a bunch of new cases.

“You can’t keep ignoring me, Harrington.” The hallucination chimes in as Steve is preparing dinner, some shitty pasta dish that his mom always makes – the only thing he can make. “You need more garlic and some cilantro.” Billy adds after a moment of observing Steve and his working hands.

“I’ll ignore you all I want.” He says stubbornly despite it going against his agenda of ignoring the hallucination. After a second of consideration, he adds two more cloves of garlic and searches the cabinets for dried cilantro.

“A glass of white wine; let it simmer and evaporate.” The apparition waves a hand towards the wine rack and Steve doesn’t know why he listens to it but he does. He pops the bottle open expertly and measures out a small glass of it, pouring it into the sauce pan.

“And, obviously, you can’t. Since.” Billy waves his hand over to Steve who is sprinkling cilantro carefully into the pan.

“Shut up,” He grumbles, refusing to admit that his own hallucination is making him blush.

“We’re stuck like this, whether you like it or not, Harrington.” Billy jumps up onto the counter and smacks his booted feet against the cabinets. They don’t make any sound, of course, not until Steve thinks that they should and then they do.

He sighs, stirring the white sauce. “What are you implying, Hargrove? That you’re a ghost? I’m just hallucinating because I haven’t slept properly in months, that’s all.”

“Hallucinate about me often, Stevie?” Billy purrs and Steve’s hand spasms around the wooden spoon.

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, exhales and continues stirring. “No but something’s obviously bothering me. Maybe some residual guilt or something. Maybe that if we’d – you know, tried harder you wouldn’t be... dead.” He sighs, refusing to look at the hallucination.

“What?” The Billy-shaped nightmare barks out incredulously. “You and your gang of thirteen-year-olds? I think you all did enough. God, if Neil knew what Max does in her free time-”

The sound cuts off and Steve has just enough time to see teary eyes before the vision is gone and he’s left alone in the kitchen. He doesn’t see a transition, it doesn’t face out. It just – one moment the hallucination is there and the next it’s gone.

The pasta and the sauce are delicious this time around but they leave a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Would you stop that?” He hisses at the hallucination.

“Stop what?” Billy asks, tilting his head like he hadn’t spent the past half an hour staring at Steve without blinking.

“Stop staring, it’s creepy.” He groans out silently, hoping Robin’s not around to hear him.

“Well, I’m your hallucination, aren’t I, Harrington? Why don’t you make me stop?” Billy grins, the smile so sharp Steve’s scared he’ll cut himself on it.

Instead of conceding he throws a piece of crumpled up receipt at where the figure is perched on top of a stand and it flies straight through it. He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face in frustration. Day two of hallucinating, still not any better. He thinks sadly. And it’s weird, it really is. He’s been getting more sleep than usual, his eye bags slowly retreating, but the Billy thing is still there. And it’s still annoying. And if it’s not annoying, then it’s broody and silent. Just like Billy was. Fuck, his imagination really isn’t lacking.

“Talking to yourself, dingus? You sure you’re okay?” Robin straightens up from behind the shelf, holding the piece of paper he’d thrown there previously. The Billy hallucination turns slightly to observe her curiously as she comes to stand directly in front of it.

Steve grimaces, knows he looks like he’d swallowed a lemon. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“After the summer we’ve had, I think I’d believe you, Stevie.” She chuckles and Billy’s eyes widen behind her, eyebrows shooting up in a dramatic wiggle and Steve groans, slumping against his beloved counter.

“Dingus?” She calls and he refuses to look in the direction from which she’s coming from. But it’s no help. She comes to stand next to him, placing a careful hand on his back and there’s Billy, just an inch behind her, staring down at him with a cocky smirk.

“Have you ever hallucinated? Like, really, so vividly that you don’t know if it’s real or not.” He asks the same time Billy places a hand on Robin’s shoulder and whispers this your special lady, Stevie?

“No!” He jerks up, surprising both himself and Robin in the process – as well as Billy but he – it – doesn’t count.

“Relax, Harrington, I can’t exactly put the moves on her, can I?” Billy snorts and walks away, disappearing somewhere in the back room.

“Uh, Steve?” Robin snaps her fingers in front of his face and he realizes he’s been staring at the closed door of the back room.

“Right, yeah. So – have you?” He asks again, trying to shake off the weird feeling of having Hargrove take an interest in his love life.

“Can’t say that I have. Though, I did have a bad acid trip once but I’m not sure that’s what you’re after.” She sits down onto the spinning chair they have there and starts swaying from side to side. “Why?”

“I may be – hallucinating.” He cringes as he says it.

“What are you seeing, Stevie? Full on Alice in Wonderland, madness all around or like – Upside-Down type shit?” She lowers her tone as she says the last par like someone might hear.

And lo and behold, the Billy hallucination pops out from the wall, making Steve jump in fear. He tries to cover his squeak with a cough but he doesn’t think Robin believes it much.

“So that was Buckley at the mall then. Makes sense, you two are practically attached at the hip.” Billy comments casually and then passes straight through her and exits on the other side of the counter. And Steve blanches, eyes bugging out and his entire frame shivering like he’d slipped his hand inside some wet innards. Disgusting. What the fuck?

“You sure she’s not your girl? You two are as thick as a couple of monster-fighting thieves?” Billy chuckles at his own lame joke, so unbearably smug and Steve’s just about had it.

He slaps his palm onto the counter, turning to the hallucination with a sneer. “What? Jealous you don’t have my undivided attention? Wanna fight me for her, smash my face in again? What the hell is wrong with you!? Fuck off already, dickhead!”

The hallucination’s face goes through a series of emotions before settling on anger and annoyance. “Wish I wasn’t stuck with you, fuckface, really do.” And then he’s gone again and Steve can breathe.

“Oooh-kay.” Robin takes a step back and Steve lets out a groan of frustration. “Steve, you’re scaring me, man. What the fuck are you seeing?”

“Hargrove! I’m seeing Billy fucking Hargrove and he’s just as much of a prick as when he was alive!” He throws his hands up, the heart in his chest hammering against his ribs.

“Steve, buddy, are you – you’re serious?” Robin’s eyes are wide and disbelieving, he thinks she’s gonna start laughing at him any moment now.

“Yes! I don’t know what it is! I don’t fucking – I can’t. He’s just – everywhere. He – it – whatever, helped me cook dinner yesterday! It tasted great!” He crouches down, his breaths coming out in sped up pants. He counts to ten and then backwards, tries to measure out his inhales and exhales, tries to get himself under control.

“Harrington,” Billy’s voice comes next to his ear and there are hands on his person and it’s like – it’s like he can feel him. The palms are wide and helping his chest expand, staving off the panic attack that’s threatening to blow him over. “Steady, Harrington, easy.” The blonde instructs and Steve’s body unwinds slowly as instructed, heartbeat slowing down almost as if it’s entirely not up to him but Billy instead.

“Thought you didn’t want to be stuck with me?” He wheezes out and then backtracks. He doesn’t want to be that guy anymore, doesn’t want to hurt people with words. He’s above this even if he’s talking to an oddly realistic Billy-shaped hallucination. “I’m sorry, this is just – it’s fucking weird, man.”

“I’ll say!” Robin, now standing and looming over him as him and the hallucination huddle behind the counter, says. Her hands perch on her hips and she tilts her head. “Is he here right now?”

“You believe me?” He blinks up at her owlishly and she scoffs.

“Two months ago I would have called you an idiot. Now, you’re still an idiot but one that’s clearly suffering from something. Maybe it’s a brain tumor.” She taps her foot against the floor and Steve flinches.

Billy hisses lowly at her and his grip on Steve’s bicep tightens. “It’s not a fucking brain tumor.”

“Then what is it?” He whines, so very tired of being in the dark.

“I don’t – I don’t know. I’m dead but I’m – maybe I’m a ghost.” Billy – because hallucination’s can’t touch (and holy shit, Billy Hargrove’s ghost is haunting him, great) – explains carefully, not sounding too sure.

“He says he’s a ghost.” He looks to Robin for something, anything and she only nods, remains silent.

“So he has unfinished business here, then? I mean, that’s how it always is in the stories. The ghost comes back, finds someone to latch on to and I’m the only one that’s susceptible or whatever. So we just need to go and find whatever it is that he needs to do and then he’s free? Right?” He asks again, waiting for either of them to confirm his ramblings.

“Not exactly an expert, Steve.” Robin shrugs. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Please don’t tell the kids, I don’t need them to worry about it.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and stands up. He’s been spending an alarming amount of time behind the counter these days.

“So... does he just hang around you and like – annoys you?” Robin tilts her head at him, looking around as if she’ll see Hargrove standing somewhere in the store.

“Yeah. He’s just – there.” He waves his hand to where Billy is standing and the blonde sticks his tongue out at him “Real mature, Hargrove.” He rolls his eyes and Robin’s eyebrows shoot up.

“He can’t seem to go more than a few feet away from me and sometimes he just vanishes but he’s here alright. Can see him as clear as day.” He props his hand on his hip, low-key challenging her to call him crazy but Robin just hums.

“Well, Hargrove, you’ve picked the wrong person to haunt. Steve’s like the most boring guy I know.” She voices without hesitation and Billy snorts at that.

“Wish I could’a been stuck with her, she seems like a riot.” The blonde says, sounding wishful and it strikes something odd in Steve.

“Yeah, well. She would have exorcised you by day two. I’m generous enough to help.” He points out, looking at Billy’s profile pointedly and Robin observes him talking to himself.

“God, this is gonna be fun.” Robin claps her hands together excitedly.  

“No, it’s gonna be the exact opposite of fun.” Steve hisses back, refusing to meet either of their eyes.

By day five, he thinks he’s losing it again.

No, it’s not the sleep deprivation this time. That particular problem doesn’t seem to be a problem at all at the moment. For the past five days, in fact, he’s slept like a newborn babe. He attributes this, reluctantly, to Billy being there in the house and near him at all times. It’s almost like he’s got his own guardian – devil, or, whatever. He doesn’t doubt that Billy would wake him up if anything out of sorts comes by and the house is no longer as silent. Last night, he’d even turned most of the lights off for a change.

His problem is the fact that Hargrove just won’t stop talking. And it’s never anything significant he raves on about. No, the ghost prattles on about useless shit that one would tell someone when they were drunk at a house party. Like, for example, his crashed Camaro and what’s under its hood. Or, about hair care products that he’d use – used – out of all the things. Or about California, he speaks a lot about back home and how he used to surf as a kid. And Steve, well, Steve can imagine it all a little too vividly. He can see it, in his mind’s eye, the golden sun reflecting off of blonde curls that match the sand of the beach he loves talking about.

And it’s – it’s odd, hearing him speak so much after they’ve barely been tentative acquaintances for two measly months. But, in retrospect, it’s probably because of the fact that Billy’s, well – dead. The blonde doesn’t seem to have a filter anymore but he rarely lets anything important slip his mouth. And when something a bit too personal comes up, he – well, he vanishes and Steve has to wait for him to reappear a couple of hours later. Then they pretend like he hadn’t heard anything as Billy continues talking about how shit the winters in Indiana are.         

“How’d you get involved in all of this, anyway?” Billy asks on night seven. Right then and there as they’re watching the Party argue over the last slice of pizza in Steve’s living room.

It’s the first real piece information Billy has asked for instead of just assumed about Steve. Hargrove, no doubt, has his fair share of assumptions about Steve and this as well but Steve’s gonna let him have this one and spill the beans. It’s not even a difficult decision, which surprises him, really.

“Hm,” He turns around, lets the growing teens fight for among themselves, and decides to retreat somewhere where he can talk to himself – and Billy – without being seen and proclaimed mental by anyone else.

“What, scared they’ll think you’re crazier than you already are?” Billy taunts harmlessly. It’s hard to think he’s evil and vile now when he can’t really do much more than talk to Steve and occasionally give him chills by passing through him. Well, he could always talk Steve to insanity but he hopes Billy doesn’t turn out to be a malevolent spirit.

“I don’t want them to worry. Because when they worry they’re insufferable. They’ll never leave me alone then and I’ll have to tell them and I don’t want to do that. They have school and stuff and I know they’re resilient as fuck but I want them to have a year off from this bullshit.” He runs a hand through his hair, winded from his long and sudden spiel. He chances a glance at Billy who looks stunned and contemplative.

“You really care for these little shits, huh?” The blonde nods to himself, a small smile playing at his lips. “Even Maxine.”

“No trooper left behind, Hargrove.” He says proudly and hops up onto the counter next to the fridge. “What do you wanna know?”

Billy looks taken aback by the question and Steve’s willingness to answer but he schools his features fast enough. “I guess, start from the beginning like the rest of us plebs, Harrington.”

He rolls his eyes and leans his head back to rest against the wall. “Honestly, I’d say it started last winter. Actually, it probably all started around early November of ‘83. I got involved pretty late into the game and only because the younger Byers kid was Nancy’s brother’s friend. And me an’ her were still dating back then.” He says and only grimaces mildly, which is an improvement. Even after all this time, he’s a bit bitchy when it comes to Nance. He’s not still in love with her, no. He’s just sad about the way it ended and the way she’d acted towards the end. Then again, he was no better in the beginning either. King Steve, he scoffs internally.  

“Sore topic, Harrington?” Billy teases with his usual smirk, hip cocked and leaned against the edge table. He wonders how the ghost doesn’t pass through the wood.

“No, shut up. I'm trying to willingly talk to you here.” He points an accusing finger at the blonde and Billy puts his hands up in a placating manner. “Anyway. That first time any of this happened, Nancy had been strangely absent from my life which was weird because we were dating and were usually together in school and if not then we were doing couple stuff. But she wasn’t around and yeah, okay, she was mad at me for breaking Jonathan’s camera and trying to fight him, but-”

“Jonathan? The guy she’s dating now? Jesus, Steve, that’s sad.” Billy huffs and procures a cigarette out of thin air, lighting it up and putting it to his lips. “You got dumped then?”

“No. We, ah, we dated for another year after that. And – wait, gotta back up. Anyway, I went looking for her because I wanted to apologize and they’d told me she was studying with Jonathan at their house except she wasn’t and they were waiting for some seven foot tall creature to pop out of the wall while relying only on Christmas lights and other electric appliances in the house to let them know when it was near.” He scrubs a hand over his face as he remembers. “It’s where I got the bat with the nails from, that night at the Byers’. It’s technically Nancy’s bat but she’s better with a gun anyway.”

“I’ll say.” Billy mutters and puffs out smoke in little circles. Steve wonders how the fuck’s he doing that.

“I helped her and Jonathan chase the thing away and then after El destroyed it, things went back to normal pretty much. Up until last October and that damn Halloween party.” He sighs, knowing this will stir up all kinds of bad memories for the both of them. “She – she got drunk and then dumped me by calling me bullshit. I thought we were good, you know? But she stomped away and then you were there or whatever, I don't remember much after that. All I know is she said that she didn’t love me and that what we felt was fucking bullshit. Like, what does that even mean?” He whines, getting a little too upset over it but tries to keep his voice down. He may be out of the room but any of the kids could walk by at any given time.

“Few days later I went to apologize, got her flowers and everything. Don't know what I even wanted to apologize for. Stupid.” He chuckles sadly, remembering how ready he’d been to grovel for Nancy to take him back. “She wasn’t home, of course. But Dustin roped me into helping him find his little murderous, flower-headed dog from the other dimension so it got pretty busy after that. And the rest you pretty much know. Oh, and she slept with Jonathan so that was pretty much a nail in the coffin on that relationship.”

“Okay, how did she even find time to sleep with the creep while all of this went down?? That’s ridiculous, what the fuck?” Billy flicks the cigarette butt away and it disappears into thin air. Steve’s also a little shocked at how genuinely shocked Billy appears to be.

“You did all this while also finishing school? I’m surprised you even graduated, Harrington.” The blonde grins but it’s tight around the edges; almost like he’s sorry that Steve had to witness what he himself had. And it’s oddly endearing, if that’s what that expression is anyway.

“Funny.” He grumbles, looking away from the open expression as something hot settles into the pit of his stomach. Being civil with Billy always made him feel odd – almost like he was fraternizing with the enemy, like it’s forbidden and he’s breaking the rules. Which is stupid and he knows it’s fucking dumb. But his body’s odd like that.

“What is?” Out of all the people, Max walks into the kitchen – looking a little sullen and nervous for some reason.

“Oh, the lies I tell myself when I want to stay sane because my living room’s been occupied by the forces of evil.” He lies smoothly, surprising himself and the blonde apparition. “What’s up Mad Max? You done fighting for the last slice?”

She grunts, nose screwing up in annoyance. “Dustin won it in the end. He spat on it like a fuckin’ savage.”

“Language, little lady.” He tutts and she grins at him rebelliously. “Also, gross.”

“Tell me about it.” She crosses her arms over her chest, still looking a little down.

“What’s wrong?” He hops down from the counter, entering mom-mode because one of the kids needs him and his parental senses are tingling.

“Nothing... just, I miss having someone not-gross to hang around with. The guys are fine and all, but like, they can be such pigs.” She sighs heavily. And Steve gets it, even if Max is a little boyish, he can see that the time spent around El had really been good for the both of them – despite the boy-related drama involved. Kids.

“You’re always free to come hang out with me and Robin, you’d like her. You remind me of her a lot, actually.” He hums, thinking about the similarities and drawing parallels. “Plus, her sense of humor is way better than those dorks’.”

“Maybe I will.” She smiles, hands unwinding and dropping to sway next to her body. She’s wearing some silly tie-dyed shirt that’s too big on her and probably too thin for the autumn weather. Maybe he should push one of his coats onto her shoulders before they leave.

“Here.” He turns around and digs through the cupboard until he comes up with two Twinkies and a packaged cookie. He opens the fridge and pulls out a glass bottle of coke, opening it on the edge of the table and handing it to the wide-eyed kid in his kitchen.

“Glass bottles? Fancy, Steve.” She grins and accepts the offerings.

“Only the best for the best!” He pretends to bow down to her and she giggles.

“Don’t let Dustin hear you say that, he’s convinced he’s your favourite.” She takes a chug out of the bottle and then sets the things down.

He doesn’t expect the hug but he allows for it anyway. It’s a little concerning, the way her hands dig into his back almost desperately. This poor kid didn’t deserve any of this. “You sure you’re okay?” He asks again, quieter this time.

“Yeah, I’m – fine. Thanks, for, you know, everything, Steve.” She whispers against his shirt and his insides turn to knots and melt at the same time. He remembers then, that Billy is right there, but he’s too afraid to look in his direction.

“No, hey. I’m here, if you need to talk or just sit with someone in silence. Here to help, kiddo, any way I can.” He runs a hand comfortingly over her back and she sighs, relaxing into the hug.

“You’re a good guy, Steve.” She decides with a fierce emotion in her blue eyes that catches Steve more off guard than even the hug had.

“Well, if you say so then I must be worthy enough.” He chuckles, doesn’t escape his own self-deprecating thoughts, though. “Come on, go keep them in check or they’ll trash the house.”

“Aye, aye, Captain!” She salutes him and picks up her sweets. He hears her yelling eat your heart out, Henderson! As she enters the living room and he can imagine her brandishing the food like a prize hard-earned. He chuckles fondly and shakes his head. These kids are too good for all of this – for this shithole town first and foremost.

“Steve.” Billy’s voice washes over him like a cold shower and Steve straightens up automatically; at attention and prepared for confrontation.

But when he looks over, Billy’s eyes are watery and his lower lip is trembling. He sucks in a breath and Billy’s eyelashes flutter as a tear breaks loose. He looks – crumpled. Nothing like Steve’s used to seeing him; no posturing, no puffed chest. He’s slumped with both hands on the kitchen table, shaking with the effort to remain upright.

“Hey, man, you-”

“Shut up.” Billy hisses, taking in a big gulp of air and – does he even need to breathe? “You’re not bullshit.” The blonde finally grinds out and Steve is getting tired of being surprised by the people around him so frequently.

“What?”

“What that Wheeler chick said. You’re not bullshit. You’re one of the most genuine people I’ve ever met and you didn’t deserve any of this shit. Least of all getting stuck with me. You – you’re a good guy, Max is right. You’re a – a better big brother to her than I ever was and... Hell, that might be one of the things I regret the most. She deserves so much more than the shit I put her through. God.” Billy shakes his head sadly and Steve can feel his own knees trembling as the words start registering in his head. His chest feels funny. Like he hasn’t taken in a breath since Billy started talking.

“So – you know. You’re not bullshit, Harrington. You’re the exact opposite of bullshit and I – I’m sorry. I, fuck, I-”

And then the fucker vanishes! Steve clenches his fists, suddenly furious with Billy just nope-ing out of the damn conversation. The audacity! The fucking nerve!

He takes in a deep breath and feels like his lungs are screaming at him for being an idiot. He unclenches his fists and pops his knuckles one by one.

Okay, Harrington, pull yourself together. He mentally scolds himself and sits down at the table, clasping his hands together and leaning his chin onto them. Billy is sorry. He didn’t specify what for but Steve is sure he can make an educated guess.

But what sticks with him is that he’s sorry about treating Max the way he did.

And then he thinks. He sits at the table and thinks that Billy has o make amends and that apologizing to Max might be a good starting point – might point them in the right direction.

“It’s been two days, Robin, I’m fuckin’ worried.” He complains, quite loudly, as they re-shelve a bunch of tapes that had been collecting at the counter for the past day and a half.

“I thought you’d be happy he’s finally left you alone.” Robin points out rationally and Steve’s throat closes up, heartbeat picking up speed.

He should be happy. He should be elated to not have Billy’s ramblings constantly in the back of his mind. He should be ecstatic to be on his own again, free of the blonde menace but he’s fucking not. In fact, he misses Billy’s voice talking to him in the silence of his house. He misses how the tone rumbles and calms him down when the sound of the clock ticking gets too loud. It’s stupid and he’s stupid for getting attached this quickly. But – he did appreciate these things when they were alive as well. When they were tentative acquaintances wallowing together in the fact that they had to drive the brats around town.

And it’s not just that. It’s the way Billy had left after spilling his guts all over Steve and his kitchen. He didn’t even get to respond.

Hell, Billy had called him nice and genuine and not bullshit. The exact opposite of bullshit, he’d said. And it made Steve warm before he’d gone and ruined it by vanishing into thin air. Like a bitch. God, what the fuck?

“What did you even do to make him leave like that?” She, naturally, assumes it’s his fault.

He scoffs. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. For your information, I didn’t do anything.” He sucks in a breath, contemplating if he should tell her or keep his mouth shut. However, his need to blabber wins out in almost no time so he continues.

“He asked how I got involved with this mess and I told him the story from the beginning. Which involved the whole Nance bit and her calling me bullshit.” He runs a hand through his hair which is hairspray-free for once and flopping all over the place. “Then Max came into the room and she needed to vent a little so I let her and fed her some candy and then she said I was a good guy.”

“That it?” Robin snorts unattractively. “With the way you’re both acting I thought he’d confessed his undying love for you.”

“What? No!” He wheezes out, feeling all kinds of ways about that stupid and ridiculous concept.

“Then what, Steve, you’re giving me blue balls here, man.” She throws her hands up in protest and Steve mentally kicks himself for imagining Robin as a guy.

“He – he said I wasn’t bullshit and that I was a genuine person or whatever. And – and he apologizes and then he fucked off and it’s been two days.” He huffs, placing his hands on his hips to support the weight of the situation on his shoulders.

“Well, you two certainly take the prize for best communicators.” Robin pushes the last tape into its place and stands up, mimicking his position mockingly.

“So, what are you gonna do?” She asks after staring him down for a few tense moments.

“I think – I know he regrets being an asshole to Max. I know he was trying to be a better brother before all of this went down so I thought that maybe I could... I don’t know, act as a medium or something. Give him a chance to talk to her so he can move on or whatever.” He says carefully, waiting for Robin to reach her verdict as she continues to stare him down with a contemplative look on her face.

“That’s – how do you know, though? Didn’t he pummel your face in last Halloween?” She nudges him back towards the counter that’s become their home away from home.

“He – yeah. But , we moved on from it after Max threatened to castrate him if he was ever a dick to her friends again. We learned to cohabitate in the silence that started off as awkward while we waited for the kids. We never talked about important shit but – I don’t know. I’m mad but how can I be mad at a dead guy especially after what he did, you know?”

“Shit, Steve, that was poetic as fuck.” Robin nods her head and Steve fight off an inexplicable blush at her words.

“You think he’d want to talk to Max?” He asks, tapping his fingers against the counter rhythmically.

“I don’t know. Honestly. The guy’s a mystery to me. If he wants to move on, if you think this is it, then he’ll probably want to. Can’t imagine he wants to be stuck with you forever.” She smiles cheekily and Steve sticks his tongue out at her like the mature adult that he is.

“I’ll try and summon him back tonight or whatever. Let’s hope he’s done throwing his tantrum.” He sighs, preparing for the long day ahead of him and the anxiety of waiting for his shift to end.

He opens the door to the house like he hasn’t been standing at his driveway for the past five minutes contemplating what he’s about to do. Not like it matters. Billy’s not haunting the house; the ghost is haunting him. He could probably do this at the junkyard but the house seems like the logical option, a safer bet, less tainted by the memories of demo-dogs trying to tear them to bits.

So, the house is really his only option. Unless he wants to do it in the back yard and it’s much too cold out there for that. Plus – the pool.

He takes a deep breath and drops his car keys into the bowl by the door. He shakes off his sneakers – because he refuses to wear boots before snowfall – and heads for the kitchen. He needs a cup of something warm, preferably cocoa, for comfort. He knows he’ll be too wired to sleep so he doesn’t even think about going to bed. He needs to talk to Billy but he’s scared of the other ignoring him completely. Then again, who knows? Maybe Billy’s already moved on after apologizing to Steve. That would be – well, he didn’t get to say goodbye but that would be good. At least he thinks so. His traitorous gut disagrees. Because that would mean he would be left all alone again, and he hated that more than being haunted – even by Billy.

He makes himself the hot beverage and sits at the large table that rarely gets used. He takes a sip and winces as the scalding liquid meets his tongue.

“Dumb,” He mutters to himself and then straightens up, arms laid onto the table neatly. He feels like he’s about to be interviewed for a corporate job. Instead he’s about to try and summon back Billy  Hargrove who’s potentially gone but more likely being a big dumb baby.

“Hargrove?” He tries tentatively, hoping it will be enough.

Nothing happens except for his voice echoing the empty house. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Billy, I need to talk to you if you’re not already dead – er. Dead-er. If you’re still hanging around like a creep and avoiding me then stop that! Don’t make me use an Ouija board, fuckface!” His voice gets louder as he speaks because he’s – well, he’s angry. You don’t just say shit like that to your sort-of enemy-slash-rival and then disappear.

“Hargrove, stop being a bitch and talk to me!” He slams a palm against the table and some of the cocoa sloshes over the edge of the mug. He winces as it burns his hand but he doesn’t stop staring at the chair opposite to him; almost as if he thinks he can manifest Billy out of thin air.

And lo and behold, Billy appears sitting in the very same chair across from him and something in Steve’s chest gives at the sight of him. He breathes out and shakes his head. Billy looks like he’d rather be anywhere else than in this damn kitchen.

“What, Harrington? Can’t a man enjoy afterlife in peace?” The blonde grumbles. The words are there but there’s no fire behind them.

“While you were away wallowing in self-pity, I had an idea about your whole making amends to pass over peacefully thing.” He watches his own fingers drumming against the table and then notices Billy’s hands mimicking the movement. The blonde doesn’t seem to be aware of it but it makes Steve smile slightly.

“Careful, Harrington, you might hurt your pretty little head thinking so hard.” Billy’s grin is still as vicious as ever but his eyes – so blue and fucking sorrowful, are painful to look at for some fucking reason so Steve focuses on the droplets of spilled cocoa instead. His eyes are sad and Steve can’t blame him.

“Why are you such a douchebag? I’m trying to help you, fucker.” Steve groans in exasperation. What is with Billy and refusing to talk about things that matter? God, Steve wasn’t very in touch with his emotions either but at least he could admit when he needed help.

“Why?” Billy hisses, sounding irritated and angry.

“Um, I don’t know? Because I’m a genuine person? Because you deserve to, like, rest in peace, dude.” He can’t help the dig that slips out and it’s almost worth it – because Billy blushes red before looking away petulantly.

“Well? What’s your dumb idea then, Harrington?” Billy grinds out after a moment of avoiding Steve’s eyes.

“I thought I could help you – talk to Max. You know, you can say what you want and I can pass on the message.” He offers, feeling silly now that he has to say it out loud.

“What.” Billy breathes out, hunching forwards with his hands gripping the edge of the table.

“If you wanna say anything to Max, tell her – I don’t know, goodbye? I could help you. Maybe that’s what’s holding you back. Maybe you just need to reconnect with Max for a final exchange of words. I know you two hadn’t always-” His voice dies down by the end of the sentence because Billy’s face has gotten real mad-looking.        

“Butt out of this, Steve.” Billy growls and somehow the aura around him grows darker.

Steve swears he sees tendrils of black wisps flickering through the air as the look in Billy’s eyes grows darker. He gulps, sitting back in his chair to put the illusion of distance between the two of them.

“Billy.” He lowers his voice, trying to calm the other down before something happens. Because he doesn’t know what Billy is capable of in this ghostly form; he doesn’t know how dangerous. “Calm down, Billy.”

“Don’t tell me what to fucking do, Harrington.” Billy’s voice echoes and Steve’s heart stops for a moment because next thing he knows he’s up against the wall with Billy’s fist slammed flat onto the the paneling besides his head.

He blinks dazedly, terrified but also confused because he was so sure that Billy couldn’t actually touch him. And, really, he’s not. But it feels like an intense pressure is keeping him against the wall and he can’t move. His heart kick-starts itself out of the shock and he takes in a gulping breath.

“Let me go, Hargrove.” He hisses right back, refusing to let the fear show despite his knees shaking.

“You always have to shove your nose where it don’t belong, Steve.” Billy’s voice is solid and grainy all at once. It’s like he’s speaking all around Steve but also from inside his head.

He closes his eyes, grimacing at the effort that takes. “Billy, if you hurt me now, Max will never forgive you. Robin knows what I was going to talk to you about and the kids will ask questions and then Max will find out. Don’t do that to her. Don’t give her a reason to hate you again.”

All fight leaves Billy in an instant and Steve feels so relieved that he can move again. He sighs heavily, slumping against the wall and watching as Billy’s shoulders droop, caving inwards. He shakes his head. “You okay there, Hargrove?”

Billy lets out a bitter chuckle, “Shit, Steve. Me? I just went all Poltergeist on your ass; what the fuck was that all about, huh?”

“You’re asking me? Hell if I know, man.” He laughs and it sounds high and strained. “Looks like you do have some things you need to work out after all.”

“Don’t I know it.” Billy raises his head and their eyes meet.

Steve loses his breath all over again and Billy’s eyelashes are so long and fanned out prettily and god – what’s up with that? And they’re standing so close, too. But that doesn’t count because Billy’s non corporeal – except he really did just do something Steve could feel physically and that was scary as fuck. But now they’re not saying anything and they’re just looking at each other and, somehow, that feels scarier. Because Billy’s eyes are intense, and his body is curving towards Steve’s and his lips are ever so slightly parted and – well.

“Do you think you’ll become an evil spirit if you stay out here for too long?” He blurts out, eager to fill the silence and ease the tension – dispel the nervous energy inside his stomach.

“Shit, do you think that could happen?” Billy, snapping out of the same daze that Steve’s been in, asks hurriedly and takes a step back.

“I don’t know – maybe that’s what this was? But, it hasn’t been that long. Usually you hear about this shit happening after years or whatever.” He shrugs, pushing forward and passing through Billy just to be a dick about it.

“Aw, you believe in ghosts, Stevie?” Billy teases and Steve turns to look at him with a raised eyebrow. Billy’s smirk falls and he nods, solemnly. “Fair point.”

“Anyway. You wanna talk to Max or not? Like, I know it’s not any of my business but – last time we talked... it looked like you really wanted to get some things off your chest.” He takes a sip of his lukewarm cocoa and grimaces; the powder’s settled onto the bottom of the mug. Ugh.

“I guess I should, huh?” Billy doesn’t look thrilled about it but he seems resigned to doing it which is a step in the right direction.

“I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to but – I think it would help.” He nods his head, rubbing his sweaty hands against his jeans.

“Yeah, okay. You’re free tomorrow, right? Means the dork squad will be here, yeah?” Billy leans against the wall with his arms crossed.

It’s cute how Billy’s memorized their schedules already, like he actually cares. And maybe he does, maybe he likes seeing Max happy with her friends. Steve nods, tossing the cocoa into the sink and watching it disappear down the drain. “Yeah, they’ll be here around four.”

“We’ll – yeah, then.” Billy swallows heavily and then vanishes again.

Steve rolls his eyes and goes through the motions of making dinner and getting ready for bed. So dramatic.

The Kids arrive around four as predicted so he sends Mike and Dustin to go get some movies and he sends Lucas to the store for snacks. He keeps Max in the house under the pretence of her helping him make crepes – because they’re superior to pancakes.

“You’re jittery, Steve. What’s wrong?” Her gaze narrows and Steve can’t help but laugh – such a perceptive child.

“Take a seat, Max,” He motions to the chair that Billy had anxiously occupied up until four pm. He takes a deep breath and runs a hand through his untamed hair. “Look, what I’m about to tell you might be a little – a lot – weird but. You’ve seen weirder shit.”

Her shoulders draw up and her whole body looks like she’s preparing to run. Her eyes, however, are serious and focused. “What is it?”

“You can’t tell anyone else. Because if Dustin finds out, he’s going to worry.” Steve says carefully and Max nods her head slowly. “Okay. Okay.” He schools his features and looks up at where Billy is standing next to him, arms crossed and gnawing on this thumb.

“I know. But, you’re worrying me, Steve. Out with it.” She demands and Billy gives him a little nod of his head.

“Okay. A couple of days ago I started seeing someone.” He tries to pick his words but fails miserably.

“Wow, congratulations, Steve! What’s so bad about that?” She smiles at him brightly and he smacks his forehead as Billy starts laughing hysterically.

“That, came out wrong.” He groans, slumping against the table. “Shit, listen. Stop – you stop laughing, you dick!”

Max’s eyes widen at that and he snaps her jaw shut, looking concerned. “Steve?”

“Tell her already, fuckhead.” Billy rolls his eyes, posture relaxing after the good laugh he’s had on Steve’s account.

“This is what I’m talking about. I’m being haunted. By – by Billy.” He watches as Max starts looking around rapidly.

“Is this a joke? Did Lucas and Dustin put you up to this? What the hell, Steve?!” She whispers out harshly and Steve shakes his head frantically.

“No. No! It’s not a joke, Max. Listen to me. He just – he just appeared a couple of weeks after Starcourt and he seems to be haunting me.” He tries to rush out hurriedly but tears have already started filling her eyes.

“Good going, dickface.” Billy growls, approaching Max and looking like he wants to hug her but – yeah. Dead.

“I’m sorry! Look, tell me something only you’d know about her. Help a guy out!” He waves a hand around angrily. Max’s eyes dart to where Steve’s looking at Billy and then back to Steve’s face, the look of utter betrayal on her.

“Ugh, I don’t know! Tell her about the time back in Cali when she broke Susan’s necklace and I had to pay for the buckle to be replaced.” Billy grumbles, looking unsure of the whole situation.

“Um. Look, he asks if you remember about Susan’s necklace back in Cali that you had to go get fixed because you broke it.” He looks at her hopefully and hates to see the tears fall down her cheeks.

“Billy?” She hushes out and Steve also hates the same sad look in Billy’s eyes. “What – what’s going on, Steve?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t want to tell anyone in case I’m just fucking crazy. But – yeah, can’t really deny the proof. We think he might be hanging around because of some unfinished business or something. So – our first option is you. He’s – well. I can’t speak for him but I’ll try to be the middleman.” He explains, his heart constricting as Max tries to look around and spot Billy. But she can’t, because for some fucked up reason, only Steve can see him and his sad fucking eyes.

“You sure you’ll be able to translate Billy?” She chuckles out wetly and he snorts, choking a little.

“I’ll – I can’t promise it’ll be word for word, but yeah. I’ll try.” He promises, ducking his head away from Billy’s incredulous look.

“Billy, you wanna start?” He looks over at the blonde after he remains silent as the grave.

“Good luck with that,” Max snorts and Steve can’t help but agree. Getting Billy to talk honestly seems like the least likely of things to happen – and he’s talking to Billy’s ghost right now.

“Steve, you gotta help me out here.” Billy suddenly appears next to him, kneeling down and pleading (!?).  

He jerks backwards, “Whoa, easy does it. Don’t freaking scare me like that!” He scolds and Billy’s head drops a little, like a scolded dog. “I can’t speak for you, man, it’s not genuine that way.”

“I’ll – you just have to make the words sound better, I’ll still say some shit.” Billy grumbles, dropping back into a squat and Steve swiftly moves his eyes away from the strong thighs right under his nose.

“Fine, whatever, you giant dickhead.” He grunts and waves a hand, meeting Max’s amused eyes. She seems to be taking it pretty well.

“Tell her I’m sorry.” Billy starts slowly and Steve gives him the comfort of not being under his scrutiny. “That I treated her like shit because of my own stupid problems.”

Steve nods, feeling nervous all of a sudden. Because these are meaningful words that need to be said and Billy can’t get them out any other way than through him. And yet he still feels like he’s intruding.

“He says he’s sorry.” He pauses, taking in the widening of Max’s eyes. “He apologizes for taking his anger out on you when you didn’t deserve it.” He meets Billy’s eyes and the blonde nods, seemingly satisfied.

“Are you sure that’s what he said?” Max looks down at the table, picking at the damaged edge of the hardwood.

“Yeah, Max. No reason for him to lie now, is there? I know you two haven’t been the closest but – he really is sorry.” He tries to smile reassuringly but fails miserably when Billy just grunts angrily. He cuts the blonde with a scathing look and Billy rolls his eyes.

“Tell her that even though she was a little shit, that I – that I did my best to protect her. Though, recently, I did a pretty shitty job.” The blonde clears his throat awkwardly, standing up and swaying uncertainly.

God, the emotional constipation, he thinks to himself with a snort.

“He says that even though you were a little shit – his words, not mine – he did his best to try and protect you. He – he feels bad for doing a bad job at that recently – with all the Upside-Down business and things but. But I don’t think he failed at all. And I think you agree with me; right, Max?” He prompts gently and she finally looks up, nodding frantically.

“Failed?! He didn’t fail! He – Steve, he saved us all! How could he think he failed?” She’s almost vibrating out of her chair with indignant fury and Steve’s heart feels warm.

“You know – it’s Billy.” He grins at her emphatic hum.

“Fuck off, Harrington.” Billy grumbles, his posture relaxing somewhat. “Just, you know... Tell her I love her and that I would have tried even harder if – yeah.”

Steve feels himself tearing up at the implication. Because no matter how comfy the two of them have gotten with each other, Billy is still dead and Steve will still have to move on once Billy does, too.

“He wants you to know that he loves you and that...  ah,” He wipes at his eyes, trying to be subtle. “That if he were still alive he would have continued trying to be a better brother. That he wanted to be a better brother but that – you know.”

“You’re no better at this than he is, Steve.” Max babbles out, tears sliding down her face but a smile firmly on her lips. “I – I love you, too, Billy. Even if you were a dick. I know we would have eventually gotten there – been a proper brother and sister duo they always wanted us to be.”

“Fuck,” Billy grumbles and now he’s wiping his eyes as well – what a sob fest.

“And I – I miss you every day. I still kept all of your stuff. It’s in a box in the Camaro in the garage. The car’s totalled but – I don’t want them to get rid of it. I told Neil I’ll fix it up once I get older! I started reading up on mechanics and cars, I think I could get it running with the proper tools and parts.” She rants excitedly, eyes pointed to where Steve’s watching Billy fall apart the longer she talks.

“No, no. Tell her to sell it, tell her to get rid of the old thing, it’s a death trap and it was even when it was running fine.” Billy groans out, coming to stand next to Max again, hovering next to her chair.

“With all due respect, Hargrove, I don’t think she’ll listen.” He smiles when Max nods at him.

“I ain’t selling the car, Billy. It’s mine now and I’ll get it running again.” She crosses her arms over her chest and Steve is so incredibly fond of them that he thinks it might be coming out of his ears. And isn’t that something? Steve Harrington being fond of Billy Hargrove. Talk about character development or whatever it was that Nancy used to say.

“Neil won’t let her keep it for much longer. Steve, I – I need you to buy it. For her, keep it safe for her, please.” Billy’s pleading eyes are back on him again and Steve is physically unable to say no.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll give it a little time and... yeah.” He nods, amazed at how easily he’d agreed. And all it took was a sad look from big blue eyes. Goddamn.

Max squints at him, “What?”

“Oh, uh, nothing important.” He smiles again, disarmingly and Max lets it go. “Well, anything else you want to get off your chest?”

“Billy...  I’m sorry about California.” Max’s voice is so quiet that Steve almost misses it. But Billy hears it loud and clear and suddenly his frame is as rigid as a sculpture, his eyes darting from Max to him. “I didn’t think – I was a kid. I still am but I was younger, it was stupid and you made me so mad I was just trying to get back at you like a fucking idiot.”

“Tell her it’s fine. I don’t blame her. Please, just... not for your ears, Steve.” Billy rushes out and Steve, although suspicious, obeys the request.

“Uh, Max, I don’t think Billy wants me to hear this. But he says that he doesn’t blame you.” He raises an eyebrow at the blonde who’s looking a little too conspicuous to be freed of Steve’s suspicions.

“God, Steve’s literally the last person who’d judge you.” She hisses out, suddenly angry. “I mean, if anything, you-” She clams up, her eyes widening and Steve wonders what is going on inside her head.

“Never mind. He’s right, not my story to tell.” She rushes out and the look of pure shock on Billy’s face is almost enough to get Steve to pry. But he keeps his mouth shut because Billy looks terrified and Steve fucking hates that look on him.

“Well, now that all our apologies and affections have been said.” He trails off, looking at Billy who’s still there. “Do you see the light or anything?” He looks around, seeing Max do the same.

“I’m still here so obviously fucking not.” Billy grinds out, looking annoyed again now that all the mushy stuff is over with.

“Either way, good talk.” He shrugs and stands up, starts pulling out pots and pans to make the crepes.

“What? That’s it?” Max jumps up as well, coming to stand next to him. “He’s just gonna hang around you until he goes away?”

“Yeah, he can’t seem to go more than a few feet away from me. Sometimes he vanishes into thin air – usually when he’s ignoring me.” He elaborates, taking the supplies out of the fridge.

“Fuck off, Harrington.” Billy grumbles from somewhere behind them.

“Yeah, yeah, keep your pants on, Hargrove.” He shoots back easily. “Anyway, when he’s not sulking he’s being annoying and making passes at Robin that she can’t even defend herself against.”

“Wait, I thought Robin was-” She waves a hand around as to indicate what she’s thinking.

Steve looks at her, squinting. “How’d you know that?”

“I mean – I head you two at the mall and then once in the video store. But like, it’s cool or whatever.” She shrugs, looking down and cracking an egg into the bowl when Steve shows her to.

“Yeah, yes. But Billy’s a dick so – doesn’t stop him.” He snorts and then jumps back as Billy emerges from the wall in front of him with a growly little boo.

“Fucker!” He screeches and Max jerks back, sending an egg flying into the wall behind them.

“Don’t do that, you demon!” He groans out loud as Billy starts cackling hysterically at him again. “Stop laughing! It’s not funny!”

“We’ll never get these damn crepes made.” Max sighs, looking at him accusingly and Steve agrees.

What a mess.

Billy doesn’t go away so that probably wasn’t Billy’s big passing over moment. It’s been five days since then and they’ve gotten a nice little routine established by now. One where Steve goes about his day replying to thin air when Billy gets too annoying to ignore and Robin makes fun of him every time. Max has been around the store more, too, asking Billy stupid things that he refuses to answer so Steve just starts making shit up in response.

“Ask him why his shirts are always unbuttoned.” Max prods, swinging her feet and letting them smack against the counter’s side.

“He’s a show-off, what do you expect?” He responds, not even checking in with Billy as he goes over some financial thing that needs to be sorted.

“Fair. Ask him if he thinks if I should cut my hair.” She tries again – it’s like a hobby to her at this point.

“Do you want to cut your hair?” He looks up from the papers, eyeing her red curls. “If you want a change, you could always braid it or something. Don’t want you to cut it off and then regret it.”

She shrugs, “I dunno. Billy used to braid it for me so I never learned how. Don’t think mom knows either.”

“I mean-” He looks over at Billy who’s looking at them with furrowed brows. “I could get him to teach me, if you want.”

“You would?” She turns to him with the big eyes and he nods enthusiastically. “I’d love that!”

He smiles, feeling that odd feeling of fondness he’s never experienced before. And he thinks huh, this is what it’s like having siblings you care about. Because, really, at this point he’s their big brother. Well, at least Max and Dustin’s. Lucas and Mike are a little more independent – the bratty, petulant type of younger sibling. Especially Mike, geez, that kid...

“Sure, drop by on Saturday and we can work something out.” He nudges her off the counter. “Go on, either pick something out or get going, your mom’s gonna get worried and I have to close up.”

She rolls her eyes, “I’m good. See you Saturday, Steve.”

“She’s growing up faster than I thought.” Billy hums, looking both sad and proud.

Steve smacks his pen against the paper a couple of times before giving up for the evening. He’ll write a note for Robin to finish it in the morning tomorrow because she’s more reliable with numbers anyway.

“Come on, we gotta get to the grocery store. I need something that’s not bad Italian takeout in me.” He groans, leaning back and popping his back.

“You eat like a raccoon, Harrington, I don’t know how you keep your figure.” Billy snorts and follows after him as he closes up.

“Good metabolism? My mom was an Italian supermodel in her prime, must have inherited it from her.” He grins, winking at Billy when he splutters.

“Damn, Misses H. was a model? Shame you got your looks from your dad, then.” Billy shoots back in retaliation and it’s Steve’s turn to laugh.

“Shut up, Hargrove. I don’t see you walking down any runways either.” He grumbles, getting into his car and slamming the door.

“Yeah well, I’m a little incapacitated at the moment. What with, being dead and all that.” Billy grins back at him.

He’s honestly amazed at how much of a little shit Billy actually is. It’s something he’s discovered recently because Billy had seemingly made his peace with being dead and stuck with Steve for an indefinite time period.

“Laugh it up, Hargrove, you’re lucky I can’t smack you.” He pulls them into the parking lot of a new supermarket that’s opened up here recently.

“Aw, Harrington, I knew you wanted to hit this.” Billy wiggles in his seat and Steve – and this is also a new occurrence – blushes.

Goddamn Billy and his goddamn flirty words.

“Too bad you’re dead, then, huh?” He arches his eyebrows and gets out of the car.

“Low blow, pretty boy.” Billy always admits his defeats silently.

They amble around this so called Wal-Mart as Steve looks for something that’s not too difficult to make and not pasta again. He throws some minced meat into the basket and thinks about what could he possibly do with it but refusing to put it back because he’s self-conscious about looking dumb. Which is stupid, but Billy already makes fun of him for everything so he tries not to give him more ammunition.

“Think I could make Salisbury steak?” He turns to Billy who’s looking over canned sauces.

“Maybe meatloaf is safer.” Billy mumbles back, looking up and then freezing in his steps.

Steve startles at the sudden shift in atmosphere. Because that feeling from the other day, from when Billy’s nearly lost it, is back. And Steve’s arm hair stands on end as the other’s shoulders seem to expand with every breath.

He turns around, trying to see what had upset him. There are few people in the store and only two in the aisle they’re currently in. One is a short, old woman and the other is a tall, burly older man – oh. Oh, well, that must be Neil Hargrove then.

“Billy, look at me.” He steps in front of the blonde, trying to cut off his line of sight. “Billy not here and not now. You gotta get yourself  under control.” He snaps his fingers in front of his face and Billy’s gaze shifts to him.

“Step away, Steve.” Billy’s voice is chillingly calm and Steve is getting real tired of his outbursts.

“No, you’re not going to do anything, calm down.” He reasserts himself and Billy seems to deflate a little. “Now, be civil. I’m gonna go ask him about the car.”

“No, Steve! You fucker!” Billy tries to grab him but his hand passes through Steve like it usually does.

“Um, excuse me, Sir. Mister Hargrove, Sir.” Steve approaches the imposing figure cautiously.

The man’s eyes snap to him, hard and unrelenting, like he’s already made up his mind about Steve. He probably has, he knows that Steve carts the kids around in his free time. Probably thinks it’s weird, too.

“What?” The man grunts.

“I wanted to ask about – um, about the Camaro.” He clears his throat.

“What about that piece of garbage?” The man crosses his arms over his chest, looking down at Steve accusingly.

“I was wondering if you plan on selling it. My pa’s thinking about starting a collection so I wanted to surprise him by restoring it and giving to him as a gift.” He hopes to god he sounds convincing because he feels like he’s going to shit himself. And, to boot, Billy’s a silent and angry presence at his side – radiating hatred and those weird ghostly tendrils.

“You’re gonna have one hell of a time trying to restore that pile of trash but sure, I’ll sell it to ya’.” The man claps him on the shoulder heavily. “Drop by whenever with some cash and a tow truck, get it off my hands as soon as possible.”

“Thank you, Sir. I’ll see if I can swing by on Saturday.” He nods and then gets out of the man’s dodge without outright running away. Thankfully, Billy is – by this weird law of the afterlife – forced to follow him.

“Smooth, Harrington.” Billy jeers and Steve wants to tell him to shut the fuck up but he can’t because there’s a nice lady next to him picking out fresh tomatoes. He relents to her imploring eyes and picks up a bunch of bananas to put into the basket.

Come Saturday he’s very nervous. Really, he shouldn’t be but he can’t help how his stupid brain is making a mountain out of a molehill.

“Stop fucking bouncing your leg, Steve.” Billy groans, trying to smack his thigh but passing through him in what’s now a customary occurrence.

“Shut up, I feel like I’m about to step in front of the firing squad.” He takes a deep breath and watches the tow truck park in the Hargrove driveway.

“Yeah, welcome to my whole life, Steve.” Billy presses himself against the window and stares out through the glass at the house.

Moments later, as they’re loading the car onto the hook, Max comes barrelling out through the door screaming bloody murder.

“Shit,” Steve scrambles to get out of the car.

“You didn’t tell her?!” Billy screeches angrily.

“I was gonna surprise her but that’s an oversight on my part!” He finally gets the belt undone and bursts out, meeting Max halfway to the garage and grabbing her around the waist, changing her route towards his car.

“Steve! Steve, they’re taking the car! They can’t!” She wails and god, Steve’s really bad at this whole big brother thing sometimes.

“Stop, stop wiggling!” He puts her down next to the Beemer. “Stop it. It’s me, I bought the car. Now stay here and wait, I gotta go pay for it.” He picks up his wallet from the console and goes to the house where Neil has finally showed his face.

“Here you are, Sir, as promised.” He counts out the money and drops it into the man’s open palm, trying to smile through the nerves and his general dislike for the man.

“Good riddance.” The man looks over to where Max is still huffily standing next to the Beemer. “She going with you?”

“Yessir, I’m taking her to the arcade on my way home. Will she be needing a ride back after?” He implores carefully and the man grunts.

“Have her back by eight.” Neil waves a hand and turns around, entering the house and slamming the door in Steve’s face.

“Dick,” He mutters under his breath, walking over to pay the tow truck man.

Once that’s done, he returns to his car where Billy is trying to stare Max down even though she can’t see or hear him.

“All I’m saying is, Steve wouldn’t-” She cuts her rant off when she sees him approaching.

Highly suspicious.

“I wouldn’t what?” He squints at her and she shrugs.

“You wouldn’t own any hair ties or scrunchies. Maybe we should stop by the store and pick up a pack of those.” She gets into the car and waits for him to do the same.

“Alright, guess you’re right.” He lets it go.

One of these days, he’s going to ask either of them about it but not today. He’s already upset Max without really meaning to today so he should make up for it.

He lets her pick out the hair ties and clips and gets a gallon of ice cream for her to demolish while he argues with Billy about the technicalities of braiding hair.

“No, fuckhead, you let that one go and then you take from the bottom. It’s a fishbone braid, it’s supposed to look like that!” Billy waves a hand around frantically and Steve snorts.

“Calm down, I’m trying my best. Her hair’s all curly.” He says as he tries to untangle a knot. “You little missy need to use conditioner.”

“That what keeps your hair all luscious and pretty, Stevie?” She teases back and he hums.

“I was blessed with this volume; it’s all natural.” He’s always been proud of his hair; it’s one of his most striking features in his humble opinion.

“It’s all the Farrah Fawcett, isn’t it?” Billy grins at him and he rolls his eyes, glad that Max can’t hear him.

“No,” He shoots back, finally managing to pick the hair up so that it looks like what Billy is describing with words poorly.

It takes him about an hour and even then he has to redo it a couple of times until it looks good. Max is a champ, she doesn’t complain and lets him fiddle with her auburn locks until he gets it right and Billy isn’t screeching at him that he’s doing it wrong.

“Well, that’s the best it’s gonna get. With more practice I’m sure I’ll get better.” He gently nudges her forward and she bounds over to the hallway mirror.

“Good, I was getting tired of all the Full House reruns.” She tilts her head this way and that, inspecting his handiwork with a critical eye.

“What’s the score, chief?” He crosses his arms over his chest, awaiting her judgement.

“It’ll do.” She grins up and him and he chuckles.

Spending time with Billy was one thing. They could always just sit in silence and enjoy that but Max was chatty by nature and she liked informing Steve about things. She’d often bring a book with her, these days they were about the inner workings of cars, and she’d read out loud her favourite passages. He enjoys hearing about all the shit he’ll never understand; mostly because it makes her happy to share.

“Dustin says I’m your new favourite, I think he’s getting jealous.” She says after another thorough inspection of the braid. “I just told him that yeah, I am, because I didn’t want to explain that I’m hanging around you to annoy the ghost of my dead brother.”

“Jesus, Max. Harsh.” He laughs as Billy chokes on air.

“Wow, didn’t know she had it in her.” The blonde says after coming back to his senses.

“It is what it is, Steve. And honestly, you have it bad enough already. I can’t begin to imagine what it’s like having to only hear him all the time.” She glances around the room like she’s expecting to see Billy there.

“Now, don’t be mean. Sometimes he doesn’t speak and then it’s fine.” He dodges Billy’s hand even though he knows the other can’t really hurt him.

“You’re a bitch, Harrington.” Billy pouts at him and God, he needs to stop doing that because Steve’s heart is oddly weak to it and it keeps skipping beats every time the blonde does it.

“Takes one to know one, Hargrove.” He snarks back, not one to be outdone.

He’s – well, at the start of all of this he would have never thought that he would enjoy hanging out with Billy. He can’t help but wonder if they’d have eventually become good friends if things had turned out different. Maybe, maybe not.

“Hey,” He says because a thought has just struck him. “What was it like before you popped up back here? I assume you had to have been somewhere?”

It’s been another two weeks of hanging out with Billy and trying to get people to come and fix the damn Camaro because, hey, maybe that’s Billy’s stupid ticket out of the land of the living. It was dumb but worth a try and despite what Billy said, murdering Neil wasn’t a viable option even if it would put his soul at ease.

And just as he’s suspected, cohabitating with Billy’s ghost is really, suspiciously, easy. And that’s concerning. Because the longer Steve jokes with Billy, the longer he lets Billy coach him through making proper food or braiding Max’s hair into various shapes, the more he starts to feel the pesky little feeling of companionship. And that’s shitty because Billy is a ghost and he’ll have to leave eventually. And then – well, then Steve will be left alone again. And he’s going to miss their stupid fights over Steve’s movie ignorance or his love for Cyndi Lauper and hatred for Metallica.

He’s gonna miss Billy. And it feels stupid to say it because really, theoretically, he should despise Billy. Hate whatever it is that he stands for. Hate that Billy hides behind anger, postures around uselessly even after his death; hates that he makes fun of literally everything Steve does. Hate how he pouts, how he ties his hair into a bun, how sometimes he wears a fucking cut off shirt around Steve and – how does he do that, anyway? Sometimes his clothes just change and Steve forces himself not to notice and give him the satisfaction of getting a reaction out of him. But it’s just that – that lately, Steve’s been reacting more often than not. And he’s just a simple guy on the edge of adulthood, he’s only human and Billy is deceptively hot. Deceptively because sometimes he tricks you into thinking that he’s not by being a fucking dickbag and an asshole but it’s still there and hard not to notice. Especially when he drops all the bravado.

Steve’s not sure he would have noticed if he hadn’t been spending this much time with Billy. But as it is, they’ve become friends and they’ve become good friends. So Steve notices, because he’s not blinded by the flashy attitude and rough words anymore. And that’s also a problem because, well, Billy’s dead and Steve’s not – he’s not into guys. No, not even a little bit.

Not even when Billy ducks his head with a blush covering his cheeks, refusing to meet his eyes. Huh.

“Billy?” He lifts his head from the book he’s reading, eyeing the other suspiciously.

“Uh, well, about that.” Billy clears his throat. “I was – I was pretty much around after day two I just – you just couldn’t see me.”

He jolts up, face flaming at the implication. “Dude! What the fuck? That’s fucking creepy!”

“Yeah! You’re telling me? It’s not like I could get away. Your life’s fucking boring, Harrington and – uh, watching you cry ain’t my idea of fun.” The blonde grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Fuck – fuck off.” He shrinks away from Billy’s form, curls in on himself and thinks about all the panic attacks he’s had in the first month of being alone in the house after Satcourt. Wow, mortifying. Not only that but Billy had probably been around when he- oh, god.  

“Come on, Steve, it’s not- it was out of your control. I – I’m glad that you’re doing better now.” Billy hovers a hand out, like he wants to put it on Steve’s shoulder but can’t.

Because of you, he thinks but doesn’t say out loud. He thinks it would actually, physically, hurt him to admit that Billy’s presence had helped him calm down over the weeks that they’ve been hanging out – cohabitating, really.

“I know, it’s just – embarrassing.” He tries to go back to his book but he can feel Billy’s eyes burning into the side of his face.

“It’s stupid that you think that, Harrington.” Billy responds after a solid minute and a half of his staring.

“That’s a little hypocritical, don’t you think, dickface?” He sneers back, feeling oddly defensive now that he’s being faced with his own shortcomings. And they’re being pointed out by Billy no less.

The blonde squints at him, a perfectly-shaped eyebrow arched. “What’s that supposed to mean, Pretty Boy?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Just that you dip every time it’s time to talk about emotions and shit. Sound familiar?” Steve tosses the book onto the coffee table and sits up to face Billy fully. “I think I’m allowed to feel embarrassed because I can’t just vanish into thin air when I feel like it.”

“We’re not-” Billy, leaning forward, probably trying to be intimidating but Steve’s so over it. “We’re not the same, you an’ me, Harrington.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Emotionally inept, repressed and constipated. Sound familiar?” He mirrors the other, inching forward with one leg on the plush couch.

“Big words, Harrington.” Billy grins bitingly. “You been reading the dictionary in your free time?”

“You know I haven’t because between you and the kids I have no free time.” And wow, okay, they’re pretty close face to face now. Steve’s heart picks up on this fact too, accelerating unnecessarily.

“Wow, Harrington, didn’t know we were married.” As soon as the words leave the blonde’s mouth the both of them pause; wide-eyed and surprised.

“Uh,” Steve chokes out, at a loss for words because – because it’s true. They have been disgustingly domestic with each other for the last week and a half. Billy’s kept him company while he cleaned, cooked, washed his car; helped keep him entertained during slow shifts, settled in with him during the evening hours and sat with him in silence or accompanied by the noise of the TV. They’ve talked, joked, discussed and debated and it’s been the most fun Steve’s had in a long while. Not even while he was in a relationship with Nancy was he this content. Not that he’s in a relationship with Billy because that would be stupid! Right? Right?!

“I – I gotta go.” Billy jolts backwards and then blips out of existence.

“Fucker!” Steve yells into the air, unreasonably annoyed at the other’s sudden exit.

Much like any other time, they gloss over it. But somehow, things aren’t the same. Because, oddly enough, Billy starts flirting more rather than less. And Steve? Steve doesn’t know how to handle it. It was bad enough when Billy was alive and it was always tinged with a mocking edge underneath but now that it’s just the two of them with no one to put a show for, it seems all the more genuine – more real.

And Steve doesn’t know how to feel about it.

No – no. He knows how it makes him feel but he also knows that Billy is a – a ghost. And Steve is trying to help him cross over or whatever. So no matter how flattering it is, how much Steve secretly relishes in the attention – which he’ll never admit – it’s never going to be anything.

“Well, I’m about to try and start the car. Any last words?” He jiggles the key in the air and Max in the passenger seat starts wiggling excitedly.

“I – ah, appreciate what you’ve done for me an’ Max.” Billy clears his throat, looking sombre and focused on the radio rather than meeting Steve’s eyes in the rear-view mirror.

“Billy, you know it’s the literal least I could do.” He snorts, looking at Max who’s itching to just turn the radio on and get the car out of the garage where it’s been for three weeks now.

“Steve, you wasted tall this money on my car, and I’ll never get to drive it again – but, it’s – it’s for Max.” The blonde looks over at his sister, adoration in his eyes and Steve feels much the same.

“Don’t be an idiot. Money’s not a problem, I wanted – you know, to do something in return. And it’s only fair that Max should inherit your baby. I don’t see anyone else worthy around here.” He meets Max’s eyes and she smiles at him gratefully, her hair’s in two fishtail braids today making her look like a real fighter.

“Because I saved your asses? And then I’m the idiot.” Billy scoffs.

Steve turns around to look at him, serious and mildly insulted that Billy’s taking this so lightly – as usual. But this time, Steve’s not letting it go.

“Max, can you give us a moment, please.” He requests because he’s about to rip Billy a new one.

“Oh, come on!” She throws her hands up and exits the car huffily.

“Something on your mind, Steve?” Billy leans back, spreading his thighs and blinking innocently at him.

“No, but I think you have something on yours.” He twists in the seat until he’s staring Billy down angrily. “This could be the last time we ever speak to each other, Billy. It’s now or possibly never.”

Billy seems to shrink in on himself at those words, his leg begins bouncing and Steve regrets ever speaking out. But – but they need to clear the air.

“I’m – I guess I’m sorry.” Billy runs a hand over his face. “I – I’m sorry for what I did, for all the people that...”

“Wait. Wait.” He rushes out, scrambling up to his knees. “No! No, no, no, no. You didn’t do any of that. You didn’t kill anyone, the fucking thing possessing you did that. Are you – do you seriously think anyone’s blaming you for this? Billy, you – that’s fucking stupid!” He rants passionately, ignoring the surprised look the blonde’s giving him.

“Steve, you don’t have to sugar-coat it for me, darling.” Billy smiles ruefully, big blue eyes sad and resigned.

“Have you – have you really thought that this whole time? And you never said anything?” His voice pitches higher in outrage, surprised and angry that Billy’s been beating himself up over this since the Starcourt disaster.

“Steve I appreciate the sentiment but – your hands weren’t around Heather’s throat. Your hands didn’t bring people as fucking sacrifice to a weird fucking flesh monster!” Billy shrieks suddenly, shaking and making the whole car vibrate and creak with it.

“Stop that!” He yells back, hurtling over the console in the middle until he’s squished into the back seat next to the Blonde. And – and his hands grip the other’s jacket without him really realizing it. He shakes Billy up, ignoring the startled gasp that leaves the blonde.

“You didn’t do anything wrong! The fucking monster wore your skin like a prom suit! And it was one hell of a bad date, too! Nobody is blaming you, Billy! You’re a damn hero! You saved us and you held the Mind Flayer back. You saved El, you saved Max and everyone else in that mall because you gave us all the time to – to close the damn gate. Didn’t anyone tell you – I – you should have asked, you fucking idiot!” He shakes the other by his grip again, smacking him against the door of the car a little too forcefully. And he’s shouting, he knows this but even if Max hears him – this is all true.

“I – I didn’t want to talk about it.” Billy murmurs, eyes locked to where Steve’s gripping his denim jacket.

“Well obviously – what are you-” He moves his eyes down to his own hands, feels the denim under his hands, and lets out a startled yelp. “What!?”

“Fuck!” Billy twitches bodily and just like that, Steve falls through him and smacks his nose against the door of the car.

“Fucking hell!” He jerks back, clutching at his nose and tilting his head back.

“No, don’t tilt your head back, idiot, you’ll choke.” Billy’s hands hover around his head, only an inch away from his own face and Steve realizes that he’s still awkwardly perched half inside Billy’s ghost.

“Is it bleeding?” He grunts, it feels like something’s cracked but he’s probably fine.

“A little,” Billy – and God, why is he still so close to him? Steve should probably get back into the driver’s seat and start the damn car. This whole thing, whole talk, was a stupid bad idea.

“Look,” He scrambles backwards. “I don’t – I need you to know that this isn’t the first thing something like this has happened. The thing that possessed you, it – I told you about Byers’ younger brother. That thing was parading around inside Will just a few months before. And El – the girl that helped you, Hopper’s kid, you know. She killed people, Billy, she did it to defend us and she did it to free herself. Hell, she’s the reason the gate was open in the first place. And nobody’s blaming her because someone else was in charge. It’s the same principle as the U.S. fucking military, you know?” He clenches his fists in his lap, refusing to meet the other’s eyes because he feels like he’s going to start bawling any second now.

“Nobody’s blaming you, Billy.” He takes a deep breath to calm himself and clambers back into the driver’s seat. “I want you to know that you saved our asses that day and that you can rest easy knowing nobody’s blaming you.” He presses on the horn and Max emerges from the door that leads to the house.

She retakes her seat and looks at him with a quirked eyebrow. “What happened?”

“Doesn’t matter. Pick a song and strap in, we’re going places.” He grins and hopes she doesn’t see the sadness in his eyes.

He turns the key and the car roars to life. He feels the rumble of the engine under his hands, the soles of his feet and his damn ass. He grins to himself and turns to Max as she claps excitedly. She pulls a cassette out of the glove box and inserts it into the tape deck. A song by Dire Straits begins playing and Steve drums his fingers against the wheel. It’s – it’s a beautiful car, it really is. It’s loud and obnoxious and flashy and very alluring – just like Billy. Not that Steve would ever make the comparison consciously.

He pulls out of the driveway and lets himself rev the engine, speeding off down the street while Max laughs in delight. He drives down the streets, speeding where it’s allowed and reluctantly slowing down where there’s a speeding limit.

He takes them out of the town and up to the quarry where he parks, kicking up dust as he stops the car with a half-turn. Max giggles excitedly and Billy chuckles at his antics.

“You get it now, Harrington?” Billy pokes his head between the two of them, a bright grin on his face.

“Hate to admit but, yeah, I do.” He runs a hand along the dashboard and pats the car.

“Ugh, you’ve been spending too much time with Billy. You’re turning into him.” Max pretends to gag and then kicks open the door with more force than necessary.

“Hey, hey! Watch the upholstery, it’s new!” He calls, leaning back and watching her bounce over to the edge of the cliff. He follows shortly behind her, making sure that she doesn’t stand too close to danger.

“This place is a dump.” Max decides, kicking a rock into the water and watching it splash down. “It’s pretty cool.”

“The guys never took you here? They used to hang out around this place a lot.” He squats down and picks up a rock of his own, chucking it as far as he can. He’s always had a good throwing arm; he liked playing baseball more than he ever liked basketball.

“No, they didn’t. They don’t like going here anymore. I think it has something to do with Will and El.” She shrugs, picking up another rock. “Is Billy still here?”

Steve looks over to the side where Billy’s looking out and into the water. The setting sun catches his profile and his curls and Steve can, once again, clearly imagine him on the sunny beaches of California. He can imagine the freckles he’d get, the way his cheeks would get red from the sun and the way he would tan. His eyes look almost clear as the light hits them directly.

“Yeah, he’s still here.” He confirms, hopes he doesn’t sound as choked up as he feels.

He feels Max’s eyes on his face so he turns to look at her back, raising an eyebrow in question. She stares at him in that unnerving way that Billy sometimes does and then she looks at where Steve was looking a moment prior.

“Billy,” She says quietly, “You should tell him.”

The four words seem to cause Billy’s ghost a great deal of pain because the grimace he produces is not something Steve’s seen often. Last time he’d seen it, they were fighting on the Byers’ kitchen floor and that’s not a memory Steve likes to recall.

“Tell me what?” He tilts his head, tries to catch Billy’s eyes. The blonde’s entire frame seems to shake with the effort to remain calm and Steve wonders what could possibly be so damn upsetting that has Billy this so out of sorts.

“Oh, uh.” Billy shoves his hands into his pockets. “I think I might know what’ll help me cross over. I just – it’s a pretty big thing to ask for so I’ve been putting it off.”

“Oh.” He breathes out, still confused about the shift in the other’s tone but intrigued at what’s to come. “What is it?”

“I think I need to go home. I think I need to go back to Cali.” Billy turns to look at him and then at Max who’s got another squinted look on her face.

“That’s – that’s, yeah. Sounds like that could be it.” He looks down into the odd blue water of the quarry.

“Well, did he tell you?” Max asks impatiently.

“Oh, uh, yeah?” He looks at her quizzically, wondering what she’s so surprised for.

“Wait – he told you and you...” The wind picks up around them, cold and sharp. “What did he tell you exactly?”

“That he thinks we should go to California so, like, he can see it one last time or something.” He shrugs, thinking about the logistics of taking the Camaro for a road trip across the country.

She throws her hands up in the air angrily, “Unbelievable!” She stomps away and back into the car, sitting down into the passenger seat with a frown.

“What was that about?” He turns back to Billy and finds him – gone. Billy’s gone, vanished again. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

 “You’re what?” Robin’s jaw drops open when Steve springs the trip onto her the next day.

“I’m taking the Camaro and Billy out to California for a trip.” He repeats again slowly.

“No, I heard you the first time I just can’t believe my freaking ears.” She does a weird little squat and duck, arms raised up, complicated movement and Steve’s amazed at how much she’s managed to communicate just with that body movement. “Steve!” She yelps. “Is this your honeymoon or is this your early mid-life crisis?”

“What? No.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m still helping Billy cross over. It’s just that we think he might need to go see California to do so. So, I’m taking a vacation and driving us there.”

“So... you’re taking him on a romantic getaway?” She leans onto the TV that’s playing Back to the Future and giving him intense and ironic flashbacks.

“Stop that, don’t be stupid.” He grunts, choosing to ignore her words and how squirmy they make him.

“Is he here? Can I talk to him because, man, do I have some words for him.” Robin cackles, swinging between looking ecstatic and perplexed.

“No, he’s been MIA since yesterday at the quarry.” He sighs, slumping over the counter and wishing, uselessly, for life to become uncomplicated again.

“Wow, that’s real – wait, what were you two doing out at the quarry? Smoochin’?” She grins and sends him a kiss, laughing at her own antics happily.

Steve, probably red in the face by now, groans and turns away from her. “No. We finally fixed the Camaro so I took it out for a joyride.”

She mumbles something along the lines of what else did you take for a joyride that Steve elects to ignore much like everything else out of the ordinary these days. Instead, he thinks about what he’ll need to survive the three day (approximately) trip to wherever-California that Billy’s from.

“Well, despite me having fun with this. I think it’s a good idea.” Robin rounds the counter, coming into his line of sight. “You need a break from this shitty town. I bet it’s been too long since you’ve been on one of your family trips.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.” He sighs, remembering two years ago when he’d last gone with his mom to Italy. That had been nice, until she started going on about starting a fashion line and then proceeded to do it while they were there, ignoring him completely for the rest of the trip.

As if sensing Steve’s inner turmoil, Billy materializes next to Robin in a pair of worn-looking sweats and a hooded sweatshirt. The blonde frowns down at him and Steve just stares up, meeting Billy’s eyes without any reserves.

“Hey,” He sighs out and Billy nods.

“You okay?” The blonde asks, shifting on his feet like he’s not sure if he should be standing there.

“Yeah, just – remembered something shitty.” He knows his voice is soft like it often isn’t. But he can’t help the fist in his chest that appears every time he remembers his parents and their absence. Even every good memory with them is always tainted by one of them usually leaving early or just ignoring him overall.

“You two need a moment?” Robin interrupts his moping and Steve snorts.

He doesn’t verbalize a response but he waves a hand at her as to indicate whatever. Billy, however, cuts Robin down with a scathing look that’s absolutely useless since she can’t see him but it does make Steve wonder what the hell it’s for.

“Leave her alone, she’s just joking.” He points at Billy accusingly and the blonde turns his nose up at him.

“Whatever. Dangerous to be joking like that around these parts.” Billy looks like he’d rather be anywhere else and yeah, Steve can relate.

“Yeah, because you and me are gonna snitch?” He scoffs, finally gathering the strength to sit up. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You’ve gotten beat for less, Harrington. Don’t want your pretty face getting busted up again.” Billy’s grin retains its usual sharpness but something around his eyes is tight and reserved.

“You do realize that everything that’s just left your mouth was very ironic.” He points out and Billy’s cheeks tint that darned cute pink again – god, Steve might have to start thinking about these things he’s been noticing sometime soon.

“Shut up.” Billy grunts, turning away to avoid him. Endearing. Steve is so endlessly endeared by him at that moment that he thinks Robin might just be seeing everything written on his face as plain as the writing on the VHS tapes.

“Oh-kay.” Robin whistles, slowly backing up into the rows of tapes to do whatever she usually does –the chances of it being a nap are fifty-fifty.

He watches her go to give Billy some time to come back from whatever mental loop he’s thrown himself for. When he turns back to the blonde, he’s sitting on the counter, a little ways away from Steve himself.

“What’s her deal anyway?” Billy tries to come off as casual but the tense line of his shoulders is a dead giveaway. “How come you two aren’t – you know.”

Steve’s a little thrown by the question. Sure Billy’s teased him about it before, made fun of their close friendship but never was there any genuine curiosity behind it. This time, though, Billy is actually asking.

“She’s not into me...n.” He says carefully, voice low. He doesn’t think Robin would mind him sharing this with Billy. It’s not like the other can do anything about it even if he’s against it.

“She’s not into... you?” Billy tilts his head, curls spilling to one side. Steve shakes his head so Billy tries again. “She’s not into... guys?”

He nods, shooting the blonde a thumbs up. “That’s the one. Don’t be a dick about it.”

“Oh,” Billy blinks at him in surprise, pulling back from where he was leaning in closer to hear Steve. “Huh.”

“Very eloquent.” He snorts and decides to leave Billy to stew in his own head for a bit. He goes into the back and finds the map of the USA he’d brought in with him. He comes back and spreads it over the counter.

“If you’re done pondering, come help me with this. We need to plan out the routes we’ll take. And since I’m still a mere mortal, I’ll need to pause somewhere for a night or two.” He taps his finger on Indiana and uses a red marker to circle where Hawkins is. “Where are we even going? California’s a big place.”

“Oh, uh, Malibu.” Billy says distractedly and Steve giggles stupidly like the dumbass that he is.

“Like Barbie.” He hums, circling Malibu on the map and looking over which highway would be the best.

Billy grunts, coming out of yet another mental blockade and hovering over the map. “We get on the 70 here. Then transfer to the 15 in Utah. Pass through Vegas and leave the Interstate somewhere there. Most of the roads are completed. We can work around the ones that aren’t once we’re near.”

“God,” He groans, “Why can’t they just complete the stupid roads already?”

“We’ll be fine. You’re forgetting I’ve done this before. Just follow instructions.” Billy grins at him. “Though, you’re hopeless at that so good luck to us, I guess.”

“You are the worst and least friendly Barbie I’ve ever met.” He shoots back, circling the aforementioned highways that Billy has decided work the best. He hopes that he can squeeze in some shut-eye somewhere in there because he is not driving for three days straight.

“You’re not letting that go, are you?” Billy sneers huffily, reminding Steve very much of Max and her antics.

“Nope.” He grins brightly, capping the marker and admiring his handiwork on the map. This is going to be one of the longest trips of Steve’s life and not just because it is with Billy by his side. He’ll need to pull some cash together, tell his old man he’s going to LA to prospect colleges for next year, tell his ma he’s going to see the world and find himself. Despite the frequent travels, he’s never been to California.

He’ll need to take a more detailed look into the cities along the interstate and maybe calculate the amount of time it’ll take them to reach Malibu so that he can space his rests out evenly. He sighs, realizing that this requires much more planning than just hopping into a car and hitting the road. He wishes they could fly but he feels like getting the Camaro there is important somehow. That the picture wouldn’t be complete without it.

“We’ll be okay if I sleep during the night and we drive only during the day. It’s gonna take some time since I’ll be the only one driving but – we’ll get there.” He looks up at the blonde and grins. They’re gonna do this; he’s going to help Billy cross over. Even if that means losing this fragile friendship they’ve cultivated between them.

“This is gonna take forever, you drive like my dead grandma.” Billy groans, draping himself across the counter.

“Safety first, dickhead. If I’m dead then who’s gonna help us both cross over, huh? Robin’s surely not that good of a Samaritan.” He crosses his arms over his chest, resisting the urge to reach out and try and fiddle with Billy’s blonde locks.

“Fair.”

They head out three days later.

Steve had spent the preceding days to the trip on the phone, convincing his dad that he’s seriously going to Cali to look at viable college options, talking to his mom about his soul and spirits driving him forward (hah!), then talking to Robin who tried her best to get him ready for the trip since he’s the only one alive to die during it.

He’d managed to scrape together his pay checks and what he had in jars around the house and deemed it enough to get them across America in four to five days with breaks for food and sleep. He has his dad’s credit card, too, of course but he doesn’t like swiping that thing if he doesn’t have to.

Max had thrown a tantrum when he’d told her that she couldn’t come, of course. He felt bad but he’d rather have her safe in Hawkins than be accused of kidnapping Hargrove’s stepdaughter. She’d been huffing and puffing but here she is now, arms crossed in front of his house and ready to send them off anyway. It’s cute. She’s a sweet kid despite the bad role models and the circumstantial monster hunting.

He’s about to greet her when she throws her arms around him in a fierce hug. She’s the only one that knows he’s going. He wouldn’t be able to explain it to the rest of them without telling them about Billy’s ghost. She’s kept the secret safe even though he knows she must be dying to tell the guys.

“I'm gonna miss you.” She murmurs lowly and he pats her head.

“It’s just a couple of days, kid.” He assures her because, really, once he’s done with this ghost business, he’ll be coming back to plain ol’ Indiana.

“Somehow, I don't think that’s true.”

He almost recoils, her statement shocking him to the core. Does she think that he’s just going to stay in California? Alone? He’d never to that to them. He’d never leave the kids like that. Even if they’re all getting older and Steve really should be thinking about college, he wouldn’t.

“No, hey, c’mon. I’ll be back in this dump before you know it. Nothing bad is gonna happen to me either.” He hugs her tighter and her fingers dig into his back. He imagines it must be like losing her brother again, thinking that this is the last she’ll ever see of Steve. But it’s not. He’ll come back for her, for the kids.

“I wish I could come with. I deserve to be there when he goes.” She peels herself away, a little red-eyed and pink-cheeked.

“Of course you do. But you’re still very underaged and can’t go anywhere without your parents. I don't think Neil would take kindly to me showing up and asking to take you to California.” He chuckles bitterly; she’d certainly make a good travel companion.

“You’re gonna make me cry, Harrington.” Billy rolls his eyes, huffing and looking away from the touching sight.

“Yeah, would do you some good. I head crying’s cathartic.” He shoots back and grimaces at max, pointing his thumb at where Billy’s standing.

She smiles, bright and very childlike. “Good luck with him as the backseat driver for five days, Jesus.”

“Oh god, no, don’t remind me. I'm gonna banish him if he starts nagging. I swear, we’re finding a Ghostbuster or something before we get to Malibu.”

“You’re certainly welcome to try!” Billy hisses at him like an angry cat, looking oddly offended and Steve raises his hands in surrender.

“I'm kidding, I’d never.” He winks at Max who lets out a giggle.

“Stay safe, Steve. Dibs on telling Dustin you skipped town!” She claps her hands together happily and he sighs, Dustin’s gonna chew him out for this once he gets back.

“Whatever keeps you happy, kid.” He bends down to kiss her forehead. “Now come on, I’ll drop you off near your house before we go.” He hikes up the duffel onto his shoulder and nudges her towards the Camaro.

“Billy, I want you to know that even though you’re a coward, I still love you.” She says to the air in the car once they’re parked a few driveways down from her house. “And no, Steve, that’s not what I meant.” She shoots at him before he can scold her of speaking ill of the dead and ask if she means the Starcourt incident.

Billy grunts in turn, looking out the window and avoids meeting Steve’s eyes in the rear-view mirror.

“Tell her she’s a shitbird... but that I love her, too. And that I'm sorry.” Billy says, eventually, after an exorbitant amount of silence.

“He says you’re shitbird but that he loves you, too, and that – he’s sorry.” He glances at Billy before focusing on Max who looks ready to cry again.

“These few weeks have been really great, Steve. Even though I couldn’t talk to him directly – I'm gonna miss him a lot. I – well, you know. More time.” She chokes on an inhale and Steve gathers her up for another hug.

“It’s okay, it’s gonna be fine. If it’s his time to cross, he’ll go and if not, then we’ll come back and learn to live with it. It is what it is.” He rubs a hand across her back, hoping that the words soothe her at least a little.

“Despite everything, I'm happy I got to talk to him one last time.” She concludes, pulling back and rubbing at her eyes with the back of her hand. “Thank you for telling me, Steve.” She surges up and kisses his cheek before shooting a look at the back seat where Billy is and getting out of the car in a hurried motion. He’s a little embarrassed by the affection, seeing as all of his kids are mostly guys and wouldn’t be caught dead even hugging him (except for Dustin in the privacy of his home), this didn’t happen often. It’s flattering.

“Ready to go?” He grips the wheel, watching his knuckles whiten.

“Fuck yeah, let’s get out of this pisshole.” Billy materializes in the front passenger seat, grinning excitedly.

The whole ordeal becomes a little more real when they pass the Come Again! sign on the way out of Hawkins. His knees are shaking for some unknown reason and Billy’s tapping his fingers against the handhold at the door and he seems ecstatic. He seems more alive than he has in all his time in Hawkins. And Steve can imagine why – this town’s brought him nothing but misery and, in the end, death.

Steve on the other hand – well, Hawkins was all he knew. Sure he’d visited other countries and continents but none were really home. Not the family orchard their relatives have in Italy or the summer house they have in France. Those were only short-lived vacation dreams where they pretended to be a family. But Hawkins, no matter how shitty, held his friends that have become an actual family to him. It’s where he grew up and then really grew up when the shit hit the fan that fated winter season.

Come to think of it, maybe he’s better off away from the town. Maybe he can come back for visits during the holidays if he stays in-

No, Max couldn’t have known. He didn’t even know about these doubts he has. This is stupid, he’s not going to stay in California. He’ll come back once this bullshit is over and he’ll stow the car away in the garage until Max gets her licence. That’s good, that’s a solid plan.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“I ‘ain’t that cheap, Hargrove.” He snorts, refusing to indulge in his own thoughts let alone say them out loud.

“Aw, come on, I’ve made you dinner plenty of times.” Billy pouts at him disarmingly and all of Steve’s brain cells evacuate his head.

“Tell me about Cali again.” He asks instead of revealing what he’s thinking about. And really, mostly because he loves hearing Billy talk about sunny California. He’s heard possibly every story Billy had to tell and he’d gladly listen to them thrice over if it meant Billy kept smiling like that.

And he’s pretty sure he knows what that feeling means. He’s sure that he’s never felt it before – and that’s a little insulting considering he’d been so taken with Nance. But maybe it explains that whole ordeal, as well.

Nancy and him had been good – at least when the story’s told from his point of view. But then again, he’s not exactly the same person he’d been back then either. Nancy had grown up in a matter of days and he’d lagged behind briefly before joining her. The year that had followed was good but it was never as good as in the beginning. Maybe it was good before because they were so oblivious. He’d realized, shortly after their break-up, that he always been in love with the idea of Nancy and what she could bring than with her as a person and that – that was shitty, she deserves better.

Lately, Steve’s been having his eyes opened forcefully and around every corner once more. He did not consent to these eye-openings but they’re still there.

And now, as they drive down a deserted highway, beginning of September, noon, his eyes are able to see clearly just how beautiful Billy really is. And that’s not a word he’d usually associate with a guy. He’s never associated it with a guy before, that’s for sure. But it’s true. Billy is almost ethereal as the sun hits his blonde hair and makes the freckles on his cheeks more prominent. His face is animated as he tells the story of cliff jumping the night before his 15^th birthday with some friends of his. The hand not on the door is waving around and Steve can imagine himself reaching out, snatching it from the air and holding in his own – maybe even over the gearshift.

But he can’t – because Billy is dead. And no matter how otherworldly he looks, how much Steve wants to reach out, he can’t. Even if Billy wasn’t opposed to holding his hand, he can’t.                                            

 “You’re not even listening to me.” Billy pouts again, dangerous and cute and all sorts of alarms start blaring in Steve’s head.

“And then you pushed Johnny, the annoying one, in but he grabbed your hand and you both tumbled down into the water. You broke your wrist on his nose. One hell of a birthday present.” He finishes the story for Billy and somehow the pout intensifies at that.

“Alright then, Pretty Boy, since you know all of my stories, how about you share some of your own.” The blonde challenges with a smirk and Steve’s sad to find that he doesn’t have any stories of his own.

“Come on, Billy. It’s Hawkins, Indiana, I never had friends like that, we never did stupid shit. There was never an opportunity. The wildest thing I did is probably when me and my cousin accidentally set fire to a barn in Italy.” He’s watching the road but he chances a glance at Billy, pleased to see wide eyes staring back at him.

“You what? Harrington, that’s arson, you dog!” Hargrove smacks his knee as he cackles.

“We were like twelve, okay. It was an accident.” He rolls his eyes and grips the wheel again. It’s nothing but open road in front of them for hours, days, and he’s got nothing else to do but keep his eyes open and listen to Billy.

Approximately seven hours later, seated at the hood of the Camaro with a take-away bag of burgers and fries, somewhere outside of Topeka, Kansas, he thinks he’s doing okay for all that life’s thrown at him.

“Tell me about the countries you’ve been to.” Billy asks suddenly, looking uncharacteristically nervous about his request. “I just – I’ve told you shit about Cali but you’ve been mysteriously silent the whole time. Sharing is caring, Harrington.”

He chews at his burger thoughtfully, thinking about Europe and Canada and the places he’d seen. He’d always taken his time observing various buildings and architecture, sights and natural beauties – mostly because it was either that or listening to his parents argue over nothing.

“I don’t – I don’t like to think about it. I went with my parents until I got too big to ignore their fights and mom couldn’t look me in the eye any longer.” He figures that it’s only fair to divulge some of his own past since Billy has been – well, partially open with his issues, too. And maybe if he offers something deeper, more private, he’ll get something in return.

After all, these five days are all the time he has left.

“I have family in Italy. They own an orchard, oranges and mandarins.” He starts slowly, popping a fry into his mouth. “I liked it there the best. Mom and I used to spend summers with her sister and their parents. Nonna Gotti always ran a tight ship but I was her favourite so I got away with a lot of shit.”

“Like setting fire to a barn?” Billy chuckles and Steve shakes his head.

“That was an accident.” He enunciates carefully, pointing a fry at the other.

“What’s it like there?” Billy leans back until he’s laying on the hood of the car – the way that the sun reflects off of him makes it seem like he’s made out of some precious metal – like he’s golden, bathed in the glow of the rays. It makes him seem more alive than he really, actually is.

“Pretty.” He stares at Billy absently before snapping out of it and redirecting his eyes to the horizon. “Very Mediterranean. Warm but also breezy because of the sea. Mostly dry in the summers. Lots of history everywhere. The buildings are beautiful, nothing like the cheap copies you’d find here. Aged. You step onto the cobblestoned streets and feel like you’re going back in time. Most of the town where zia Gianna lives, where we’d stay, is off limits to cars so there’s people on bikes and on foot everywhere. They throw a get-together every now and then during the summer, the whole neighbourhood gathering in the yard in front of her house.”

He recalls these memories fondly, back when he was a knobby-kneed child running around with the neighbourhood kids, not understanding a lick of Italian but still playing with them because language isn’t a barrier for kids.

“Damn, didn’t know you were half Italian, Stevie.” Billy hums and Steve feels his eyes boring into the side of his face like a physical thing.

“Can’t blame you, it’s not like I can speak the language. I know a few words and some of the basics but...” He shrugs. “I’m dumb for languages.”

“Not dumb, you just never had the right incentive.”

And that’s another odd thing Billy’s been doing recently – making sure Steve knows he’s not to blame for almost anything and that he’s not as stupid as he usually feels. It’s – nice. He appreciates the effort and maybe Billy’s right, it’s not like his mom ever bothered teaching him.

“Mom never thought I’d need it. I was fine as a kid and she didn’t really bother teaching me much. Stella Gotti, a household name in the European fashion industry by now, never had the time.” He shrugs and scrunches up the wrapper of the burger and the fries. He eyes the back seat but decides to walk over to the trashcan by the viewpoint where there’s an overflowing trashcan screwed into the singular lamppost.

When he returns, Billy’s looking at him funny. Like he’s finally realized Steve’s life wasn’t all that perfect after all. Which is dumb because Billy knows just how fucked Steve’s life has been. Maybe that’s not it then, maybe it’s something else.

Maybe Billy’s decided to let his eyes be forcefully opened as well.

“Come on, it’s gonna get dark soon. I wanna hit the next town and find a motel before it’s pitch black out.” He nods his head but doesn’t wait for Billy to get into the car. The other will appear by his side wherever he goes anyway.

“When I was fourteen we found out dad was cheating on my mom.” He says into the air where Billy should be but is, for some reason, invisible again. But Steve knows he’s there, he can feel him just near the surface, hovering. Another seven and some change hours and somewhere outside of Castle Rock, Colorado, Steve sits in the backseat of the Camaro with his socked feet propped out the open window.

He’s gotten a little dizzy from the nothingness surrounding him so he had to pause before they can continue. He thinks about pushing it today, trying to get to at least Silverthorne before settling in for the night.

“What’d you do?” Billy asks but doesn’t appear fully, just a disembodied voice floating through the air, carried by the gentle current of Colorado air.

“Nothing. They didn’t do anything. I think he’s still cheating on her but I’m not sure. Mom ignores it and every time I try to talk to her about it she waves me off. Oh, it’s in the past, Steven, darling.” He scoffs. He hates thinking about it, hates that his dad’s such a giant dickhead.

“Shit, man, why? Bad for business? Reputation?” Billy’s voice drifts around again, into and out of Steve’s ears.

“I don’t know. I guess. She still accompanies him on all the trips and shit and sometimes she goes off on her own but. They’re still legally married and even if he’s still screwing around, she doesn’t want to do anything. It’s frustrating because even though she acts like it doesn’t bother her – you know. I can tell it does.” He sighs heavily, kicking out a leg and bending it at the knee to get rid of the stiffness there. “I feel like I should be able to do something about it but neither of them are willing to listen.”

“Steve,” Billy pops into existence in the front passenger seat, eyes serious and brows furrowed. “Steve, they’re grown people, you can’t do anything to make them change their minds if they don’t want to do it themselves. If this is what they think is best, then that’s how it is. The best you can do is get out of Hawkins and do what you think would be the best for you.”

It’s surprisingly insightful but then again, he should stop being surprised by Billy. Over the time spent together as haunter and hauntee, he’s learned that Billy’s wisdom goes deeper than what he usually projects. That he hides behind walls made of spikes and barbed wire but that every glimpse through them shows hidden treasures.

“I need a drink.” He sighs but knows that the moment he hits the bed in the next dingy motel, he’ll pass out and sleep for eight hours straight.

“You an’ me both, buddy.” Billy snorts and turns back around in the seat, eyes set on the descending sun. “Come on, you need sleep.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“El saw the beach we need to head to,” Billy adds as an afterthought. “It was mom’s favourite. She used to take me there when I was a kid.”

Steve doesn’t respond but takes notice of the sad expression on the other’s face and of the past tense in his sentence syntax. It’s not a surprise, not really. But it’s information offered in return. It’s something.

“I think Neil killed my mom.”

Billy drops this particular atomic bomb onto Steve’s head while they’re in a motel room somewhere in the outskirts of Richfield, Utah. They should be reaching Malibu tomorrow if Steve speeds fast enough and they get a head start. Thinking about it is giving him a headache on top of the one he already has. He’d driven six hours from Silverthorne with a fifteen minute break for food and five minute breaks every few hours to take a leak at the side of some mountain and it’s taken a toll on him.

He’s barely conscious but he’s got a bottle of whiskey in his hands and he’s going to make the most of it. He was lucky enough to get it in the first place so he will not be letting it go to waste. He unscrews the bottle and takes a swig from it, spreading his legs in a V over the top of the bed covers, waiting for Billy to continue.

“I’m not sure if directly or indirectly but...” Billy takes a deep breath. “It’s his fault she’s gone.”

Steve nods. Observes the way Billy is eyeing the bottle enviously, hunched in on himself in a lotus sit. He looks like he’s trying to make himself appear smaller than he is and Steve feel like he should contribute something to this or some shit. It – he doesn’t like leaving Billy out in the open like that, he knows how hard it is for the other to admit things. And if he feels too vulnerable then the weird ghastly tentacles might come out and hurt the both of them.

“Dad’s threatening to disown me if I don’t go to college next season.” He admits with another swig.

Billy’s face scrunches up in distaste like he has words to exchange with Steve’s father. “Christ, that’s fucked.”

“Not as fucked as whatever the fuck Neil does to you.” Steve mutters down into his own chest, reading the label of the whiskey due to not being able to hold Billy’s gaze. It’s something he’d wanted to talk about with the other before, too. The constant bruises, the absences, the unbridled rage always lacing Billy’s frame – he’s not an idiot.

“Yeah, no.” Billy vanishes again and Steve rolls his eyes.

“I know you’re still here, dickhead!” He grunts, falling back against the bed, feeling the warmth of the whiskey coursing through him. Utah is chilly at night but soon he’ll be frying in the Californian sun and letting go of Billy forever. Leaving behind nothing but the car, Steve’s memories and Steve’s feelings as proof that he’s existed at all.

“My mom left me in France alone once, on accident. Had to go to the American embassy to get in touch with her.” He remembers that. As a kid he thought it was cool but in retrospect, that was a very fucked up thing to do to a ten-year-old.

“I lost my virginity at fourteen to some girl already in senior year, that was pretty fucked, too.” He snorts at his own pun. The whiskey is definitely letting him relax some – and as a result, giving him the loose-lip syndrome. He hopes he doesn’t blurt out something too incriminating.

“First time I got drunk, too. ‘S how I got the King Steve title. Because I had game or whatever.” He scoffs. “I had no fucking clue what I was doing. I let the other, older, more popular kids dictate what I was gonna become.” It’s the first time he’s talking about this with anyone. Well, he supposes he’s not talking with Billy either. More like at him, and the empty air, of course. The next swig chokes him a little and he coughs faintly, hand covering his mouth.

“I can keep talking all night, Hargrove. Because, despite what you may think, sometimes it’s good to air out the skeletons in your closet.” He tries again, shifting on the bed and patting his own stomach. The whiskey’s working up a warmth in him so he pushes the hand up and under his shirt, scratching against the skin there in a motion that he’s learned to associate with comfort. Sometimes it’s good to put skin on skin and feel that you’re still there – especially if you’d come face to face with things that couldn’t possibly be there. And yet they are.

He trails his fingers along the faint dip of his weak abdominals absently, wondering if Billy would respond or not. Oh well, it’s not like he’ll not hear Steve if he continues talking.

So he does just that. He talks.

He talks and talks, waffles about his school experience chronologically. Talks about how his cousin once pushed him off a cliff into some deep water between sharp rocks, about how he helped Tommy get with Carol, about how he totalled his dad’s car once. He talks about how he’s shit at English but surprisingly good at Biology and that maybe he’d like to work in a lab one day. Then he remembers the Upside-Down and remembers how working in a laboratory had become something that he’s begun associating with bad people. He derails that train of thought and replaces it with some of the wilder parties he’s attended. All the while taking small sips of alcohol and petting himself for comfort like a lost child.

Any okay, maybe he’s feeling insecure, spewing his guts out like this. But Billy needs to know that he’s not the only one fucked up. That he’s not alone in this – he has to know before he passes and leaves Steve – no – this world, forever. So maybe Billy’s wounds are more physically present but Steve still can’t look at his pool without wanting to vomit.  

He swallows a word as his mind works overtime. Clearing his throat, he continues with the retelling of the events of someone’s party from two years ago – just before he got with Nancy.

“And there’s kids jumping off the roof and into the pool, it was crazy fun. Of course I did it, King fucking Steve, never lets his subjects suffer alone. Really shouldn’t have, was plastered to seven hells and back.” He snorts, wiping his mouth where he’d spilled some of the amber liquid and lets the shirt soak in where the drop had rolled down his neck. He’s getting sloppy, he knows. He remembers that party well but he doesn’t know why – it really was like any other party he’d attended during highschool. It feels like something’s missing, like he’d fully blocked a part of it from his memory, though.

“Shit, there’s something.” He sighs, runs a hand through his dishevelled hair. “What was I drinking? Was it vodka? It was probably cheap vodka and tequila shots. Felt like shit the day after but pretty good during the party.” He giggles immaturely. He remembers feeling good and then suddenly feeling really good and brown hair and lips on his abdomen and eyes familiar –

He bolts upright, eyes wide and feeling – to his mortification – arousal coursing through him, making him thrum all over. Oh, shit, oh, fuck.

“Holy shit.” He opens his mouth but the words stick to the back of his throat. Much like the person on their knees had his dick in his – their – oh god. “Oh, god.” He starts laughing, hard enough to bring tears to his eyes. “Oh, my god! Billy! I just remembered! You’re ever gonna believe this! Tommy fucking Hagan sucked my dick!”

It takes a split second for Billy to appear out of thin air, looking startled, and for him to fall through the floor of the motel room. And this sends Steve into another laughing fit, bottle swinging around in his arm wildly as he loses his voice yelling.

“You always did say he was a cocksucker!” He squeals, not really realizing why this wouldn’t be hysterical. It’s – he bets Tommy remembers, he bets the fucker knows full well what he did.

“God, it’s no wonder he dipped as fast as he could when the opportunity came to kick me off the throne! Oh my god! Billy! Did he try to suck your dick? Oh! Hi there.” He smiles dopily at the Blonde, over the edge of the bed, reaching out and running a few fingers over some of the prominent curls that stand out at the side of Billy’s head. Billy startles a little but Steve doesn’t know why so he doesn’t bother thinking about it.

“No, he never fucking offered, Harrington, what the fuck?” Billy’s eyebrows are so serious.

He frowns right back at the other, trying to mimic the expression best that he can but it just makes his face hurt. No wonder Billy’s always so grumpy. “Why not? Wouldn’t have taken him up on it?”

“No, Steve that’s not – I’m not a-”

Steve waves him off. “Fuck off, who cares. It was good head.”

“Jesus, Harrington.” Billy stumbles back a little, landing on his ass and still staring at Steve with those pretty eyes of his. “So what, you recommend?”

He snorts again, an unflattering action, really. “Might be good head but not worth the sass and nagging you’d receive in return. No wonder I blocked that from my memory, Jesus.”

“How are you so calm about this? You just realized a guy gave you a blowjob at a very public party. You’re a miracle, Harrington.” Billy leans back on his arms and Steve hangs one of his own over the edge of the bed, fingers barely brushing the denim of Billy’s ripped jeans, skirting along the edge of one of the rips unconsciously.

“He’s the one that offered,” Steve shrugs.

Billy’s face hardens again, “Right, of course. A hole’s a hole, yeah?”

He tilts the bottle back and takes a final timid sip before setting it down for good. “Not necessarily.”

“The fuck’s that supposed to mean?” The words are harsh but Billy looks uncharacteristically shaken. Is it uncharacteristic? Billy always looks a little wild-eyed. Except when they’re curled up on Steve’s sofa watching a movie together, the he looks sleepy and cosy.

“Can you keep a secret?” He grins, wide and sharp – just like Billy used to.

“I’ll take it with me to my grave.”

“That’s not fucking funny, asshole.” Steve smacks him on the thigh, making Billy’s leg jump in surprise.

“Sorry, sorry.” Billy lifts up a hand in surrender and Steve high-fives him clumsily. “What’s the secret, Pretty Boy?”

His smile drops a little but becomes more genuine due to the warmth that the stupid nickname elicits in him. He hums, “I like girls just fine, had my fair share. But – don’t think that’s the end of it.”

Billy’s eyes round in surprise and it pleases Steve to be able to read him so clearly even with a mind full of the alcoholic haze. And it’s – it feels good finally acknowledging it, feels like taking a breath of fresh air. He’ll have to call Robin and tell her in the morning.

“You sure you want to be telling me this, Steve?” Billy raises an eyebrow and Steve laughs, rolling over onto his back and looking at the other upside-down. He returns a hand to his stomach where it continues to swirl along the skin there, soft and comforting, the look Billy is giving him flying completely over his head.

“What are you gonna do? Beat me up and call me a faggot?” He scoffs. “Hardly anything I haven’t heard in the past year and a half. Man, you lose interest in dating and suddenly you’re gay in everyone’s eyes! I mean – they’re half right but.” He waves his other hand around without finishing the sentence.

“Jesus, Harrington, you’re smashed.” Billy tilts his head to the side and Steve enjoys the way the other’s looking at him – oh, so very raptly.

“Yeah, I apologize in advance if I’m awkward in the morning. I’ve just bared my soul open to you, a walking dickhead that once beat my face in and then saved all our lives. Who would have thought, huh?” He winks at Billy and sits up, tugging the plain tee he’s wearing off because he’s used to sleeping without a shirt when he’s plastered – he always gets so unreasonably warm.

“I’m calling it a night, wake me up when you wanna head out.” He wiggles out of his jeans because sleeping in jeans just isn’t sensible. Billy makes a noise and when Steve looks back, he’s gone. He wonders what that’s about. Maybe he has somewhere better to be? Maybe he got tired of Steve’s ranting. Whatever, his loss.

He rolls over onto his stomach under the flimsy blanket and realizes that somehow, he’s half hard in his briefs. He sighs. There’s a reason he can’t jerk off right now and he knows it but he just can’t remember why that is. What’s stopping him from chasing an orgasm? He’s plenty horny, that’s for sure. But there’s something-

He throws the covers off and stares at his dick as if it’ll tell him the answers he needs. And he’s about to reach for it – plunge his hand into his briefs but a clearing of a throat to his left stops him. He blinks over lazily and oh, right.

“Oh! That’s why I’ve been so fucking horny. Jesus. Sorry, thanks.” He chuckles, ignoring the scandalized look Billy is sending him, and rolls over. He tugs the blanket back into place and reaches back to pat the other on the head. “Nighty night, Billyboy.”

The blonde huffs a little irritably and Steve swears he can feel it on the back of his neck. “Night, Stevie.” Billy whispers back and Steve closes his eyes, fully prepared to pass out. He wiggles around until a weight at his back settles him down and he sighs, content and warm.

The last time he got drunk was the night that Billy had first appeared and Steve had been sure that the other was just an apparition. And that had been bad. But this, right now, as he’s half hanging off the bed and wallowing in his own misery, is somehow so much worse.

What the fuck was he thinking? Why’d he have to go on and say all of that? Sure, Billy deserved to know he wasn’t alone in his suffering but that, what he’d done – that was over sharing. And holy shit, did he actually sort-of come out to Hargrove, of all the people? Well, he supposes it could have been worse. Not by much but still...

He rolls over onto the floor and pats around the nightstand to find the phone. Once he manages to bring it down, he looks around the empty room thoughtfully.

“Hargrove, if you’re here, you better get the fuck out of dodge because this is about to be a private conversation!” He hisses meaningfully and hopes that Billy takes him seriously.

He dials the number of the Family Video store that he knows by heart and hopes Robin picks up instead of Keith. It rings a couple of times before the line connects and Robin’s sleepy voice sounds, feeling like warm rays of sun after a long winter.

“Hi, this is Family Video, how may I be of assistance?” She yawns mid-sentence and Steve warms at the familiarity. This is the longest he’s been away from her since they started working together at the mall. Their Scoops Ahoy stint was short-lived but explosive – in more ways than one.  

“It’s me.”

“Holy shit! Steve!” She pauses briefly and Steve hears something clutter to the ground. “Shit. Is it done? Where are you? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, no. No, we’re still in Utah and I have a massive hangover because I got drunk like an idiot last night.” He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Uh-oh, this should be fun.” She says grimly like she knows what’s coming. And maybe she does, maybe he’s just real easy to read. God knows Billy has managed to do it several times already.

“I may have said some dumb shit and now I don’t know what to do.” He admits slowly and she hums. God, he hopes Billy’s respecting his wishes and waiting outside the door and not listening in like a dick. “I – uh, remembered an incident from a party like two years ago where Tommy H. may have sucked my dick.”

A brief pause before a choked laugh sounds through the line, “Either he did or he didn’t, dingus, make up your mind!” She cackles before tacking on, “Didn’t know you had it in you!”

“Shut up, you definitely knew.”

“Hm.” She’s so silent that Steve can hear the clacking of her nails against the store’s counter. “I’ve had my doubts. No guy, completely straight, spends that much of his free time staring at that poster of James Dean we have hung up.”

Steve warms from the inside, blushing as he remembers the Rebel Without a Cause poster that’s directly opposite to the counter where he spends most of his time. It’s not his fault that James Dean strikes such an imposing figure exactly where Steve can see him so clearly.

“Speaking of, doesn’t James Dean remind you of someone you know? Someone reckless, and rebellious and blonde-”

“Not there yet, Rob, don’t push it.” He grunts, pinching the bridge of his nose and absolutely not thinking about the dream he’d woken up from where the certain blonde in question had been spooning him on a large bed gently and with such care that it brought tears to Steve’s eyes upon awakening. Wistful dreams were the worst. They show you what it can be like and then take it away just like that. Truly a self-imposed torture.

“Sorry, sorry.” She says even though she doesn’t sound sorry at all. “How far from Cali are you? Another seven or eight hours?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

“What are you gonna do about it?”

“What is there to do? Nothing. I’m gonna help him pass over and then I’ll come back. He doesn’t need to know. Not about this anyway.” This being the unmentionable pesky little feelings he’d developed for the other that are eating him up from the inside. He’s so fucking stupid. He’s the stupidest idiot in the whole world.

Who goes and falls in love with a dead guy? Idiots, that’s who.

“If you’re sure.” The bell above the door of the store chimes and Robin grunts. “I gotta go. Call me as soon as you – you know. Good luck, man.”

“Yeah, I’ll be in touch. Bye, Rob.”

He pushes the phone away, running a hand through his hair irritably. He needs a shower, needs to brush his teeth and then get something to eat before they hit the road. He’d woken up relatively early, seven in the morning. He’ll loiter around for an hour or so by the looks of it. The problem now is, that if he moves to the bathroom, Billy will once again be within earshot. But somehow, Steve doubts Billy will show up anytime soon.

So he goes about his business and realizes that he’d guessed right when it’s been three hours and Billy’s not showed his face yet.

Steve’s stretching his legs at the side of the highway. They’re about to turn off the 70 and get on the 15 and then it’s smooth sailing from there. He wonders where he needs to go specifically. Malibu’s a big place after all.

He feels the familiar staticky feeling on the back of his neck again, feels the weight of a knowing gaze. Billy’s presence has seeped into his being fully; so much that he’s grown to recognize the lack and reappearance of it. He’s going to miss it something fierce once it’s gone for good.

“Where in Malibu?” He asks the air around him, waiting for the familiar float-y voice to respond.

The wind picks up around him briefly as if upset. It takes a few moments of silence before Billy finally responds.

A faint hum, “Ramirez Canyon.” Another pause before Billy flickers into being next to Steve, form shimmering uncertainly. “I mentioned it the other day. Mom used to take me surfing there. She was always so proud, smiled so fucking bright. But I grew up in a house on Escondido Beach. That’s probably not a good location to do this, though.” The blonde’s throat clicks audibly as he swallows.

“I’m sorry-”

“Harrington-”

“No, shut up.” He declares firmly. “I’m sorry she got taken away from you. I’m sorry you had to live like you did when you deserved so much more. I’m sorry you died like that – you – I’m sorry I couldn’t help. You’re not alone Billy. You should have let us in, should have talked to someone. It’s not pity, don’t give me that look.” He rolls his eyes, chest heaving with all of the emotions that he’s trying to plow through at the moment.

“I wish those things hadn’t happened. God, do I. But seeing as they did, I want you to know that there’s nothing you need to be forgiven for. That you did nothing wrong and even if you acted like you did, that it was a by-product of your situation and that you’d more than made up for it. And I want you to know that I’m proud of you. I’m proud of you for what you did on that day and of who you’ve become since you came to Hawkins.” He feels tears gathering in his eyes as he says it, has an inkling of suspicion that nobody’s told Billy they were proud of him since his mom died. But he’s here now, here to say what’s in his heart and here to reassure the other best that he can that he is, was, a good person despite.

He takes a deep breath, inhaling sharply and choking a little on the crispiness of the air. He bends forward, hands on his knees, watching the tears drip down into the sandy roadside. Sad, so very, very sad.

“Steve.” And, God, Billy’s voice sounds like he’d been gargling gravel. It sounds pained and raw and Steve’s shoulders bunch to stop his torso from shaking with sobs. Billy doesn’t follow it up with anything and Steve doesn’t think he would be able to hear anything from him either. He waits for the tears to subside before he even thinks about starting the drive towards Cali again. The promised land.

Stupid, fucking stupid. You’re an idiot, Steve, you’re a fucking idiot. He chastises himself as he grips the wheel. He doesn’t look at Billy who still seems to be flickering in and out of existence, frozen like a statue where Steve had been standing. Idiot.

He doesn’t try to talk to Billy until they reach Los Angeles and he almost gets lost trying to manoeuvre out of the city and into Malibu. Steve’s lucky he’s been to big cities before, otherwise the amount of traffic and signs pointing every which way would have overwhelmed him. Instead he just keeps a level head and tries his best to read the signs that point towards the beach he need to visit.

It’s another half an hour before he reaches a parking lot that’s dedicated to the visitors of Ramirez Beach. It’s oddly deserted, feels like he’s stepped into another universe altogether. He turns the car off and stares out through the windshield and at the horizon where the sun’s started its descent. This is it.

And it truly is beautiful. The ocean, so vast and blue, daunting but calm because there’s no wind cutting through the air. It’s warm, almost overwhelmingly so. The air isn’t damp, though. It’s dry and faintly sea salt scented. It’s nice. Nice as place as any to cross over.

He gets out of the car and walks down the short path to where the beach starts. He walks along the coastline alone, observing the abandoned bottles and cans that litter the sand. He takes off his shoes and continues walking closer to the water, letting the waves lap at his ankles. It’s – it’s calming. He feels calmer than he has in a while. He feels like he can finally breathe. Feels like he does when Billy is telling him about California, about LA.

He feels it ripple through the air before he sees Billy standing next to him in the shallow waters.

“This is it, then?” He asks, a lump in his throat that he tries so desperately to swallow. He doesn’t want to say goodbye. He’s afraid something other than ‘goodbye’ will leave his mouth if he tries.

“This is it.” Billy looks to the side, eyes hardening as he sees something Steve isn’t privy to. The blonde turns to him then, eyes wide and shimmering with fresh tears. “Thank you.”

“No, man, hey. It’s fine. It’s what any decent human would have done.” He rubs the back of his head, bashful and so fucking sad. This is it, the last he’ll ever see of Billy. Billy who’s become one of his best friends. Billy who, despite his annoying whining and their rough start, had wormed his way under Steve’s skin like a persistent itch. Billy who – Billy who he might possibly even love a little. What a sad life he leads, in love with a dead man.

“No. No.” Billy hisses, crouching down and grabbing at his knees. “You – Steve. You don’t even know. And it’s useless to tell you now. But – but I – thank you. It means a lot – these past few weeks, past few fucking days even – it’s been fun. It’s been like – it’s been like a glimpse into a possible life that I could have lived if things weren’t so fucked and I-” Billy looks up at him with those painfully blue eyes filled with tears and Steve sits down next to him, uncaring if his pants get wet.

“It’s okay. Whatever it is, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” He reassures, reaching out and stopping just shy of touching Billy’s shoulder. Because he can’t.

“I know that.” Billy hisses like a caged animal. “The storm it’s – it’s here. It’s not a fucking light Harrington, the storm’s on the horizon and it draws near. Whatever the fuck happens next isn’t going to be pleasant. And I want to – I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all the bullshit that I – and not just this July. From the beginning it’s because-” Billy grips his hair, form flickering and Steve’s heart pounds so hard he can feel his pulse in the tips of his fingers.

The other’s form contorts violently and Steve wants to cry as Billy’s mouth opens into a silent scream. The sky darkens, clouds obscuring the setting sun and Steve scrambles towards Billy, hands outstretched.

“Steve, I-”

“Billy – Billy, what’s happening?!” He calls as lightning rolls across the sky, thunder following it closely.

“I don’t-” Billy’s body jolts up, still flickering like a broken TV screen. “Steve.”

He gets one last look at the bright blue eyes before Billy’s gone, no trace left to indicate that he was there at all. Steve tips forward, hands burying themselves in the dry sand. No, that can’t have been it. Could it have?

He sobs, sits back on his heels and lets the tears flow freely. Billy wanted to tell him something. Steve never got to say it. He never got to tell Billy some things either. Like the fact that Steve actually likes his flirting. Or the bit about how he wants to run his hands through Billy’s hair to see how soft it is. Or maybe to confess how he’d have gone crazy on his own if Billy hadn’t been there for him for these past few weeks. Or the crippling fact that Steve’s in lov-

The sky opens up but not in rain. There’s a bright flash that rips across above him and strikes the ground several feet ahead of him. He jumps up, scared that he’d get struck by lightning if he stays on the beach any longer even though the last thing he wants to do is leave.

The next strike lifts the sand and forms several big columns of petrified lightning in the same place and – what was that about lightning never striking the same place twice? The air around the columns fizzles with heat and wavers like a mirage in the middle of a desert. He watches with baited breath as the air starts splitting up into cracks, the pillars shattering. He takes a step back when he catches a peek of deep purple, of gloomy-ness and of a giant storm that can be seen through the cracks. A singular rift opens up through the middle and Steve wants to cry because surely, that is the Upside-Down. There’s nothing else that it could be and he wants to scream.

And then – then something comes tumbling out of the crack and into the sand and Steve thinks this is it, this is how I die. But – but just as soon as it’s started, it’s over. The rift closes, the sky is clear and whatever came tumbling out of the rift sits up and –

“BILLY!” He runs, runs so fast he skids the last few steps and comes to his knees in front of Billy’s dazed form. He grips the other’s face – actually grips him as in: tangible, human, real. “Billy.” He whispers as tears continue to slide down his face.

The blue eyes blink up at him and Steve – Steve hugs him. He hugs him so fiercely that the other groans before returning the embrace with gripping fingers. He sobs freely now because somehow, despite everything, Billy is here.

“Steve – what?” And god, his voice sounds raw like it did back at the side of the road in Utah.

“You’re here! You’re not dead!” He laughs, giddy, pushing Billy away with hands on his shoulders to take a good look at him. His hair’s short, Steve realizes. Shorn at the sides and only a little grown at the top, curling gently. It’s odd seeing him without the messy curls but it gives Steve the opportunity to see his eyes so clearly.

“I’m not?” Billy’s eyebrows tug down into a frown.

“No, you’re – you’re here.” He breathes out, one of his hands coming up to cup the blonde’s cheek without his conscious consent. And Billy looks a little gaunt – he looks a little skinnier, definitely less muscular, his face is sharper and there’s a scar almost like lightning running along the right side of his head where hair's shorn down.

“How?” Billy looks down at himself, frowns at what he finds. And Steve would frown too if he weren’t so elated that the other’s apparently alive. Because - Billy’s dressed in a dirty pair of gray sweatpants and a matching sweatshirt, a logo in an alphabet he doesn’t understand stamped over his heart, knuckles of his left hand bandaged and what remains of an IV still sticking out of his right hand.

“I have no fucking idea.” He chuckles, easing back a little but instead of letting him put some distance between them, Billy’s right hand shoots out to grip his polo.

“Steve – you gotta, you gotta check.” With the left hand, Billy motions down at his chest. “I – I can’t look.”

“Oh,” Steve says, the reality of it all kicking in. If Billy survived – if any of that was even Billy – if this is even Billy, then he should have scars. He nods then, steels himself and goes for the hem of the other’s sweatshirt.

“Steve – if I’m not me-”

He rolls his eyes, “Don’t be fucking stupid.” He lifts the shirt abruptly, like ripping off a bandaid and tucks it over Billy’s face and head so that the blonde doesn’t have to look.

Steve lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding at the sight. Sure enough, there’s a big fucking mess of pale scars in the middle of Billy’s chest. There are other scars running up his sides, over his ribs, and raised lines of faded scars too – a whole lot of them, more than Steve would have thought.

Neil, he seethes internally. If they ever get back to Hawkins, Steve is going to kick his teeth in.

“Steve?” Billy’s voice is muffled by his shirt and Steve sighs before lowering it again. “There you are.” The blonde grins, soft around the edges, tired.

“Hey,” He smiles back, knows that he must look exhausted. “Let’s get this out.” He raises Billy’s right hand and peels off the tape that’s holding the plastic part of the needle before tugging the sharp thing out. He watches as a drop of blood appears where the puncture wound is before the wound closes itself up. “Huh, that’s new. Hey, you couldn’t by any chance do that before, could you? I’m gonna be so pissed if you never told me if you could. That’s kind of cool. Should we be worried? Maybe I should call-”

“Steve.”

“-El, she’s probably gonna knows if this is-”

“Steve.” It seems as though it’s Billy’s turn to hold his face in his hands gently and Steve goes mute at the emotion he finds when he meets Billy’s eyes.

“Yes?”

“I – Steve, what I wanted to say is that I... thank you ... and – and, I – I.” Billy gulps like he’s fighting for air. “I love you.” The words are a harsh whisper and they’re barely out of Billy’s mouth before Steve is surging forward and kissing the living daylight out of him.

Billy makes a muffled noise of confusion, sliding his hands into Steve’s hair as Steve tips them over, covering Billy’s frame with his own protectively. He tilts his head and cups the side of the blonde’s neck and Billy melts into the kiss, finally relaxing and letting his lips part.

This is it, he thinks, this is what was missing. He pulls back, panting and weepy again, smiling despite it.

“Steve.”

“Billy.” He leans down, forehead meeting the blonde’s. “I didn’t – I didn’t want to tell you. There was no use. You were a ghost. I – I’m sorry. Me, too.” He reassures the other and the other grips his back like Steve is suddenly going to run away. And Steve’s thrumming again, adrenaline and happiness and, god, that cursed arousal again. He’s so fucking hot under the collar but this is definitely not the time.

“I don’t – Steve, you – why?” Billy sounds so genuinely confused that Steve feels like he could cry again. And maybe he fucking will.

“Why? You fucking dumbass, haven’t I spent the past few weeks trying to convince you that you’re a good person? That you deserve a chance at a normal life? That you’re not alone and that you don’t have to be alone? You’re not a charity case, Hargrove, I believe in you. I’m proud of you and I’m happy – I was – I was happy when you were with me. You helped me with a lot of shit and talked me out of panic attacks and you – you listened.

“You’re worth every damn feeling I have for you even if you’re annoying and you bitch too much. You care even if you don’t like other people knowing that you do. You’re a good person despite having every fucking right to be utter garbage. And what if it gets the best of you sometimes? You’re getting better, we can – you don’t have to go back there.” He says suddenly, fiercely. “We can stay here. We can live here.”

God fucking damn it, Max was right.

“He can’t hurt you anymore, Billy, nobody can.” He’s crying again, tears staining Billy’s face as well.

The blonde sits up, Steve somehow ending up in his lap but not complaining. “Steve, you can’t just – leave everything behind for me.”

“I won’t – I’ll – I’ll get into college here, I promise. Then we can just – we can just move in together. I don’t think I can... I don’t think I can go back without you there with me.” He darts his eyes around Billy’s face, taking in every detail of him, counting the freckles covering his cheeks and nose.

“Steve, darlin’, that’s sweet but,”

“But nothing. It’s my decision, you either join me or we both let this die.” He traces his fingers down the bridge of Billy’s nose and the blonde closes his eyes, exhaling shakily.

“I don’t want this to die. I – I don’t think I can let it die. You’re a pain in the ass, Harrington, but you’re my pain in the ass.” Billy smiles and Steve’s fingers move to trace the outline of his mouth.

He feels needy; feels like he has to be touching Billy at all times because if he doesn’t then the blonde will disappear and Steve will be alone and he can’t bear the thought of-

“Steve, Steve!” Billy runs a hand down his back, the other pressing against his wrist, feeling his pulse. “I’m here, Steve. We’re okay. We’re in Malibu, where I grew up. We’re fine, you’re fine. Breathe with me, come on.” The blonde instructs and Steve tries hard to follow, to not let the anxiety swallow him whole.

He connects their foreheads together again, presses his nose into Billy’s, shares the same breaths as the other. It calms him down, to have actual proof of Billy being alive and breathing under him. It feels good to touch him.

“I’m sorry, I just.” He shrugs faintly.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to – never apologize for things like this, Steve,” Billy whispers as if he’s afraid that he’ll spook him.

“It’s – I can touch you, and you’re real, you’re here.” He breathes out steadily, closes his eyes because his sight’s started blurring a little.

“I’m here, I ‘ain’t leaving. You have me now and I ‘ain’t leavin’.” Billy reassures him, presses gentle kisses across his face, down his neck where he rest in the crook of it, seemingly drained.

“Let’s get a room somewhere, you need a shower and a change of clothes.” He hugs Billy once more for good measure before getting up on shaky legs and offering the other a hand.

“A shower sounds fucking good right about now.” Billy mumbles, gravitating towards him naturally and lacing their fingers together.

Steve – well, Steve melts a little at that. It’s so sweet, so chaste that he can’t help the giddy laugh that leaves his mouth.

“You’re gonna be a nightmare now that you’re back, aren’t you?” He shakes his head as Billy grins cheekily. “Pigtail-pullin’ asshole.” He mumbles, leading them back down the shore, towards the Camaro. His pigtail-pullin’ asshole, though.

And sure, Billy being better now in no way excuses him being an asshole but - character development as Robin says. It'll take time, yes, but Steve's willing to help Billy get there in the end.