He Doesn’t Know Why, But He’s Laying Down.

I’m not crying you are 🥲

billy hargrove + eddie munson similar aesthetic. different paths. same end.

both like rock music/metal heads, and use music as a form of escapism. both have big permed hair. both style themselves in layers of denim and leather. both live in the poorer end of town/trailer park. both don't fit in with the norm (metalhead newbie vs d&d nerd). both have had awful childhoods/home lives. both have a necklace they wear throughout that means something to them. both have a strange opposing friendship with steve.

both end up being used as a pawn by the upside down (billy, as a vessel, turned from a town bully into a monster by the upside down, and eddie framed for the murders the upside down has caused).

both sacrificed themselves for the group.

eddie was innocent of the upside down murders in season 4. billy was guilty of being a bully but innocent of the upside down actions of season 3.

billy sacrificed himself out of pain. he had nothing for him in the real world. he had become a monster, and had hurt everyone around him, so he sacrificed himself as a way of attempting to atone. eddie sacrificed himself out of pain. he had nothing for him in the real world, as the town saw him as a monster. and he blamed himself for running, so he sacrificed himself as a way to prove that he didn't always run.

and their deaths both absolutely destroyed their younger 'sibling'; max never recovered after billy's death and dustin is struggling at the end of season four after eddie's.

billy

billy

You’ve heard of golden retriever boyfriend, get ready for opossum boyfriend: lives in the trash. Will eat anything. Looks like he bites. You’re pretty sure he faked his death at least once.

"steve is so stupid lol" yeah? YEAH? everyone loves talking about how robin deciphered the russian code but if steve hadn't recognized the 'daisy bell' song from the coin operated toy horse, robin and dustin would've still thought that the transmission was from russia or something. robin asks "maybe they have horses like that in russia?" and steve immediately says "'indiana flyer'? i don't think so." so just because steve harrington, who was a popular jock for the majority of his school years, doesn't understand the nerdy/geeky references the party makes, it doesn't make him stupid.

post-starcourt billy in the hospital with amnesia, asking for his mom

Steve hasn't left the house in six months. He hasn't left his bed in weeks. After Billy's death his mental state went into shambles. He'd wake up screaming, he refused to eat, and worse of all...he began secluding himself from all of his friends. Robin and Dustin have only ever seen him a couple of times in those six months but aside from that, his parents were the only ones who interacted with him.

Today, he spent most of the morning lying in bed wearing the yellow sweater Billy use to wear. His mom sits besides him caressing his hair which is now dry and tangled. It pains his mom to see him, she begs him to eat just a little bit of food but he still protests. After witnessing the love of his life get impaled by the creature that had possessed him, Steve feels like there's nothing left to live for, everything was taken away from him that night. All he wants to do now is lie in his bed, wishing to one day fall asleep, and never wake up.

"Stevie, honey please, you can't stay in bed forever." She pleads, "I know it's been difficult ever since Billy passed but you should at least speak to your friends."

"I'll phone them later."

"how many messages do you think are on this thing?" She leans over to grab his answering machine and places it on his bedside cabinet. "They're all worried about you. Just listen to some of these messages for me, please?" She gave him a kiss on the forehead before leaving him alone with the contraption. It takes him a while but eventually he shuffles forward on his bed and picks up the machine.

You have 10 new messages

Steve contemplates it for a second, but it not really like he's got anything better to do, so he places the answering machine beside his bed and presses play.

14:08 15 Jan-

Hey Steve, It's Robin. Just checking in again, guess what happened in family video today? So this old guy came in looking all suspicious and shit and he starts grabbing a bunch of VHS tapes, right? So just as he's coming to the counter his wife shows and he starts to FREAK OUT! he drops all the tapes, which happen to all be pornos and she goes off at him. Calling him a pig, saying he's a disgusting old perv, and I'm standing there like "uhhh...no one in this fucking place pays me enough to deal with this shit." Argh! Sorry. Rambling again. We all miss here Steve, just know that, I know you need your space right now I get it. But when you're to talk I'm right here. Okay, gotta go, Bye!

Steve smirks for the first time in the past few months. He wonders he how much it's been killing Robin not to have someone to ramble to.

12:54 25 Dec 1985-

Hey Steve! Merry Christmas!

Dustin yells out threw the machine as the static sounds of cheerful Christmas music invade the background.

Mom! Will you turn the music down please?! Sorry about that. I'm just calling to wish you a merry Christmas, I hope you're okay man,. I haven't seen you since...well...oh guess what? I finally got into the hellfire club! You know Eddie Munson, leader and dungeon master, he caused another scene in the cafeteria today even though it was totally justified. When the teachers came to question him, I decided to stick up for him and he liked my confidence. I've been waiting forever to join to his club and I finally got in...OKAY MOM! I gotta go have dinner but tomorrow I'll come by and drop off your gift. Merry Christmas Steve.

Steve still has his Christmas present, a framed photo of him, Robin and Dustin hiding in the back of scoops ahoy, their faces covered in ice cream. Steve will occasionally pick it up from the window sill and reminisce about those days. He picks up the photo and looks at it fondly trying to forget about the person taking the photo.

14:43 12 Sep 1985-

Umm...hi Steve. How are you feeling?

It's Dustin again only this time the tone of his voice is drastically different. He's less perky than in the previous voicemail. Dustin, Robin and Steve didn't have a proper conversation until late October so it's no wonder that he's a little timid here.

So it's been a while we last talked. How are you holding up? I've really missed you and I didn't know if I should come over or call or what. My mom said I should give you some space. But whenever you want to chat I'm right here... alright. Bye.

18:23 6 sept 1985-

STEVE! Hi, I don't know if you can hear me that well. Its Joyce Byers. Jonathan's mom.

The poor quality of the audio crackles through the machine as Joyce's voice enhances as it tries to automatically set the volume from the previous message. Steve lightly slams the machine which seems to stop the crackling a little.

Sorry if the sounds is not great. I'm calling on a payphone right now, the connection at this motel is horrible. Listen I don't a lot of time left on this thing but there's someone here who wants to speak with you.

There's a brief moment of dead silence with inaudible muffling on the other end.

Steve?...

He can't answer you sweetie.

Oh. Hi, it's El. Just wanted to see how you are. We'll be in California in few weeks, we're going to go down to Santa Monica pier. That was his favourite place to go to in the summer. When I was travelling through Billy's memories you were in a lot of them, you made him really happy you k--

Steve skips over to the next message. He knows how the rest of these are going to go, it doesn't matter how sincere they are, to Steve it's nothing but a million voices repeatedly pitying him. Well Steve doesn't want their pity. He doesn't want to be reminded of everything he's lost. He skips past the next five messages, only listening to them for a brief moment just praying it has nothing to do with Billy. But each one is the exact same with a new voice. He pictures Billy in his last few seconds of breathing as each new message plays and he hates it. Steve doesn't want to remember Billy like that, but the memory of that day has been plaguing his mind for so long it's all he can think about. He's about ready to throw the damn machine against the wall until he reaches the final message.

00:34 2 July 1985-

Steve...

That voice. He thought he'd never hear that voice again. Steve sits up in his bed astonished, tears already glazing his eyes, he lifts the answering machine onto lap. All others sounds around tune out, the world goes silent, expect for his voice. His scared little voice.

I know it's late. I would've come by scoops I just...I don't think I can be around right now. I can't be around anyone. I…I don't know what's happening to me, it feels like there's some kind of poison in me, I don't have any control of my own body anymore. I want to tell you everything, I swear I do, but he won't let me. This shadow. It's been following me, it suffocates me the second I try to tell anyone the truth. I know this sounds stupid but you have to believe me. He's making me do things...awful things. I want to see you but I'm afraid if I do, he'll make me do to you what I did to those people.

The pitch of his voice is high. He's trying his best not to break down into a blubbering mess. Steve remembers the time, around this time he was investigating a secret Russian base underneath the mall. Maybe if he had been smarter and decided to go home that night instead, he could've gotten this message and done something to prevent all the shit that went down. He lives with that guilt everyday.

I can't stop him. He's making me build something for him. I've helped created, I've seen it Steve, I know what will d--

Billy begins to choke on his words as the monster within him begins seeping through. He hears Billy pull the phone away from him and yell out to someone or something but there seems to be no response.

I feel like I've failed you. I feel like I've failed Max, failed everyone, I'm so so sorry. Steve...I don't think I'm going to make it out of this alive. If I don't...just know I loved you. I really loved you, baby, and tell Max I loved her too, I never got to tell her that myself. Listen Stevie, I need you to do something for me if I die...I need you to take care of Max. She doesn't have anyone to look out for her, she needs that, Max is a weird kid but she needs someone to love her just like any other kid. Don't leave her to turn into another me...Ok. I don't...I don't think I can hold him back much longer. Bye, Steve, I love y--

YOU HAVE NO NEW MESSAGES

The teardrops pool down Steve's cheeks. How could he be so selfish? For all the brooding and mourning he had been doing for the past six months, making everyone else feel like shit for going out of their way to cheer him up, Max has been going a similar situation. If not a worse situation. Billy was her brother, they of had a rocky relationship but he was trying to be a good brother, even if he had a weird way of showing it.

Billy would speak fondly of Max in private when it was just him and Steve but never to her face. He had been working up the courage to say I love you to her but now she'll never hear those words escape his mouth. Max will never truly know what she meant to Billy.

For the first time in weeks Steve gets out of bed. It's like a weird surge of adrenaline enters his body but he doesn't care, Steve throws the duvet off of himself and takes his dust-covered keys from his drawer, he bolts for the door ignoring his parents entirely. He drives around town for a good few minutes, his first instinct was to go to the Hargrove's residence but he remembered that Max was never home at this time of day. Eventually he makes it to the junkyard where a gloomy young redhead is sitting on a rotting couch with Billy's Walkman on.

"Steve?" Max utters slightly confused as she swears she told no one she would be here. Steve towers over her awkwardly, realizing he hadn't thought out what he was going to say. "How did you find me?"

"I had a hunch you'd be here. You mind if I join you?" Max shrugs and shuffles over to give him space to sit on the mouldy couch. "So... I know things have been pretty shitty and--"

"God, Steve really?!"

"I know. I know you don't want to hear the same, "I'm sorry for your loss" pity speech. I just came to apologize for the way I've been acting."

Max raises an eyebrow at him.

"Cause for the past six months I had been making this all about me. I've been acting like a child just sulking in my room all day and ignoring everyone that I didn't even stop to think about you. I lost my boyfriend but you lost your brother. I came here to tell you that...he loved you."

"what?"

"He loved you," Steve reiterates, "I wanted to say that to you for so long but never found the right opportunity. I know it didn't seem like it, but he thought the world of you, Max. He wasn't a perfect brother, sure. But he wanted to be better for you."

Max looks down at her feet speechless. She knows that she was his shitty little sister, but she never really thought Billy saw her as anything beyond that. To hear she meant so much more to him, makes the aching pain in her heart burn like wildfire.

"yeah so, anyways, I just thought you should know that. I'm gonna go but just so you know, from now on, if you need anything I am always here for you. Billy would've wanted me to take care of you so... I'll just...yeah." Steve can sense an awkward tension growing between them so he removes himself from the couch and makes his way over to his BMW.

"Hey Steve!" Max calls out just as he's opening the car door, "do you think you can give me a ride home?"

Steve gives Max a little smile before opening the passenger side for her. As he drives her through the streets of Hawkins he can see Max begin to fall asleep against the window in the rear view mirror. Steve remembers that has the keys to Billy's Camaro. Maybe when Max is older he can teach her to drive and then she could take ownership of the vehicle.

Billy wanted to have that sibling connection with Max for so long, he just had a bad time at opening up that it usually strained his relationship with others. Now he'll never get to have the chance to be a real brother. Steve knows he'll never be Max's brother but he can at least be someone she can rely on, someone who can look out for her, it's what Billy would've wanted. Someone to make sure she doesn't have the same childhood he did.

If Steve doesn’t wear Eddie’s vest during season 5

Imma be angry

Right Hopper?

Hopper?

HOPPER NO

Keep reading

The bus always drops Billy off exactly a block from home. They took his car when he failed a vision test from his chronic migraines, so there isn’t much of a choice. Which is fair. He really doesn’t want to drive anyways after his accident. But, the bus isn’t always on time.

He’d been visiting Max at the hospital to play catch up before the new year. There’s always a good excuse to go visit her, but today especially. There’s fireworks going off like crazy from all the drunk hicks celebrating the passing of another year. Fireworks that terrify Max because she can’t even see them, after losing her vision in the battle for her life.

He’s lucky he got out of the hospital earlier that night because Max requested an extra strong dose of her meds to drown out the sound of the fireworks.

Unfortunately, there’s too many of those same drunks to cart around that the bus hadn’t made its way to the hospital until an hour after it was supposed to pick him up. He’d meant to be home by 9, but it’s already after 10.

Even on his eventual walk home from the bus stop, drawn out by his limp and his cane, the sky is full of smoke and colors. And noise. Lots and lots of irritating, terrifying noise.

Billy walks the last stretch faster than he should. He’s eager to get home to Steve for their first new year together anyhow. He’ll blame it on that instead of the lick of fear in his stride from the booming.

Right away as he shoulders the door open on his good side, the one not leaning on a cane, he calls out into the house, expecting Steve to be right there since he’s running a little late, “Baby?”

But there’s no answer. That’s not so unusual. They’re usually in bed by now anyways, aged at least three decades by the events of two summers ago and basically every day since. He’ll just hang up his coat, kick off his stretchy old man shoes, and try again.

“Steeeevie?”

Still nothing.

One too many times panicking from not knowing Steve’s exact location has taught him to calm down a little, and get his head on the right way before he starts tearing the place apart looking for him. Taking his time so as not to hurt himself in the process, Billy decides to go upstairs and check before he makes the ruling that Steve’s MIA. For his sanity.

He finds his boyfriend disguised as a pile of blankets on their bed, and he almost misses him because the lights are all out.

Right.

Fireworks are pretty rough for Steve too. Nothing brings more sensory overload than colorful death bombs in the sky. Billy sighs. He hates this town and the constant cacophony of fear it brings. Can’t they ever have a moment of peace?

He climbs into bed next to Steve, announcing his presence with a clearing of his throat before he plops down next to the curled up figure under the comforter.

“What’re you doing in here?”

The quiet response from Steve comes out barely audible, “Hiding.”

Yeah. Billy kinda wishes he could hide from a lot of things too. But right now, this is not about him,

“What from?”

The blankets rustle and a small mumbled response comes, “Loud.”

Just to be sure, and so Steve doesn’t have to do as much talking, Billy clarifies, “The fireworks are too loud?”

Again, there’s a shifting sound of Steve’s hair against the sheets, as he nods gently.

Billy wants to hold him. He’d like to strike down every last motherfucker that made Steve feel like this too. He can settle for lifting up the blanket and sliding under it with Steve, and talking gently to try and soothe him.

“I think so too. They uh.. remind me of..”

His voice breaks off from the quiet whisper into just nothing. Even now, even trying to be strong for Steve, there are some things that are too hard to talk about.

Steve’s face goes scrunched up with sympathy. Like he’s trying hard on purpose to feel bad for Billy, though that’s not really how it goes in his head. He even apologizes, though that isn’t what Billy wanted at all, “I’m sorry.”

Instantly, Billy rushes to reassure him, “Stevie, you didn’t-“

But it doesn’t change what Steve was already determined to tell him. They don’t talk a lot about the serious things. About how they’re both disabled now, and certainly both jam-packed with more trauma than the sky is packed with lights tonight. Maybe they should, so Steve won’t sound as guilty as he speaks,

“I’m sorry I’ve always been like this and you were made into this.”

That makes Billy pause. He has to catch his breath and then turn on his side to look at Steve’s face, centering on his nose so accidental eye-contact won’t happen.

No way is he letting Steve blame himself for this, any of this.

“That’s not true. I hated fireworks before too. We’d watch them on the beach, and I’d get scared because the water looked like it was on fire.”

Just from that tidbit, Steve tears up. Billy tears up. They both know what part of the story is coming next, and suddenly Billy remembers that he told this story before and simply forgot, but it’s too late to stop now.

“Momma held me and told me that it wasn’t real, but.. after momma left.. I was always afraid of irrational shit like that. Still am. Just today I was scared the hospital would burn up from the fireworks if I left Max there. Or I’d choke on the smoke on my way home. And then I got back and I couldn’t find you and I just-“

Yeah. Steve gets it. They’re both trying their damndest, even when another pop sounds in the near distance, and Steve presses his headphones a little closer to his ears.

The not quite silence speaks more volumes than their words. Steve spreads his arm out, and makes a soft little humming sound. An invitation for Billy to come close and wrap his arms around Steve. They need each other right now.

Billy dives into the offered cuddle. He’s been waiting for this moment all day. The moment where he could just sob into Steve’s chest, and feel Steve’s own tears wetting his hair. Sometimes, this is what it takes.

Laying in bed and purging out all their bad emotions isn’t exactly the ideal way for two ex-King’s like them to spend their New Year’s Eve, but it’s how they’re going to, and neither would ask for any other way to move into another year. They fought hard to be able to do that.

Nobody can take that away.

They don’t talk again until Steve is ready. With all the noise and chaos, Billy doesn’t mind the silence, just listening to Steve’s steady, unsteady, one-two-skip, heartbeat. He hears Steve’s words rattle up in his chest as he speaks them, “Fireworks are stupid.”

That makes Billy crack a smile. They both know all this crying isn’t about the fireworks. Not that it helps, but that’s not the point.

Maybe fireworks will be the spark that lit the fire. From now on, it’s about opening up a little more.

“Yeah. What’s so great about all that toxic shit in the air anyways?” Billy meant that in more ways than one, but whether or not Steve got the double meaning about all that glory covering up the ugly truth, isn’t what he focuses on.

Steve lingers on the idea of the bad air, and Billy’s asthmatic lungs, and lets the worry come back, “I didn’t even think about that. You okay?”

Billy nods against Steve’s chest, and pulls back a little so his head is resting by his arm instead, and they’re face to face now, “I’m just fine.”

It’s such an automatic answer, Steve catches it too. Satisfied that he noticed, he points out, “You sound just like Max.”

He does. It feels like it’s already been an eternity since he got back in Steve’s arms. He forgot that today was the same day he visited Max. His memories get mixed up like that sometimes.

The silence after Steve’s little teasing must eat away at Billy’s mask, because Steve makes a small sound of worry, like a gruff sniffle, and asks, “Was she okay?”

Trying hard to remember today’s visit over yesterday's or the day before's or nine months before that’s, Billy gives details by the moment he remembers them, “Still tired. But alright. Got her to smile.”

“Did you tell her-“ Every single day Steve asks the same questions. He cares so much about doing the right thing.

Seeing him now, all curled up in bed and sad on a day that’s a celebration for everybody else, makes Billy even more sure that he’s going to do the right thing as well. Right now, that’s reassurance,

“Yep, I said ‘hi from Steve.’ And I made sure to tell her you miss her. All the usual.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come.” Steve went once, and that was all it took for the constant beeping, rushing, wheeling, to trigger a meltdown. Never again.

But Billy’s alright with that, and Max was too the last time they talked, “Baby, we’ve told you. It’s fine. I can barely get my ass on the bus either.”

Steve doesn’t look like he believes him. His eyes are wide and teary again. His nails scratch at his palms, so Billy gently takes his hands and keeps them separated.

“Promise?”

Billy kisses Steve’s knuckles on each hand, soft and barely able to be felt as a graze across warm flesh. He’s going to do anything to make Steve stop worrying about the harder things they’ve been through a few times now.

“I promise.”

Billy reaches out slowly, ever so slowly so Steve has time to assert his boundaries before Billy's hand makes contact with his face. Instead of stopping him though, Steve blinks slowly and closes his eyes, and allows Billy to gently hold his cheek. His skin is flushed warm, despite it being so cold out. He’s the softest thing Billy’s ever had the privilege to hold.

Next he wants to taste. The angle they’re at is awkward and it hurts Billy’s back. He taps Steve’s cheek as a silent way of asking him to be the one to initiate their kiss and fix their tangle of limbs. Steve obliges, without opening his eyes, shifting off of his hip so his chest is against Billy’s now, and their faces are just inches apart.

Billy isn’t even sure which of them actually closes the gap, but in the next moment he’s kissing Steve slowly and carefully like either of them could break at any second.

In the next moment, Steve does break, only in that he separates the kiss.

“Wait a sec.”

Billy’s eyes are half open, his face warmed by the love he felt from the kiss, which left him too lax and calm to be worried about Steve’s interruption, “Hm?”

Not for no reason. Steve’s panic looks a lot different from his lightbulb ideas, and right now, Billy can tell before Steve even speaks it’s going to be the latter. One of his good ideas.

“We have to save up our kisses for midnight.”

Not exactly the most thrilling idea ever. Billy instinctually scrunches his nose as an expression of doubt, but Steve’s eyes are still shining with his own brilliance.

“I don’t know, babe..”

“It’s good luck!” Steve swears it like it’s a revelation, and he’s just cured all that ails Billy.

Seeing him that happy, instead of shaking and hiding from the overstimulation like earlier, Billy could say that Steve’s just about done that for real.

Billy plays his role as the skeptic though, pouting over-exaggeratedly so Steve knows he’s not serious, “Didn’t know that meant we had to wait.”

It earns a laugh, more akin to a delighted giggle, out of Steve, who decides on a compromise for their imaginary plight, “You can have one kiss on the cheek for now.”

He leans over and just barely pecks his cheek, soft lips ghosting over Billy’s skin and making him shiver with the feeling of goose pimples popping up on his neck. The small kiss transforms with the shape of Steve’s smile from Billy's reaction, and then Steve gives him another, slightly stronger, press of his lips.

“Thank you, Stevie.” Billy makes doubly-sure Steve knows he’s not really as pouty as he was playing to be. Really, any affection from Steve makes his entire day better, after months where they weren’t able to have these moments between doctors visits and monster battles. The peace of just being in one another’s arms, finally safe from all of that, is enough. “Love you.”

Declarations of love always give Steve a reason to show his happy hands. He taps the tips of his fingers in a rhythm against Billy’s collar bone, and returns the declaration in a silly, stimmy voice, “I love you too.”

Their bliss is interrupted by another thundering firework outside. A distressed squeak cuts off Steve’s words, and he buries his face into Billy’s form, hiding along the contour of his arm, with his face pressed against Billy’s ribcage, so he’s as close to Billy as possible, and as far away from the threat.

It’s not really a comfortable position, but if it keeps Steve feeling safe, Billy can live with a dead arm for a while.

“I got you, Steve. Those fireworks aren’t gonna get us, babe.”

“Too loud.” Steve repeats his sentiment from earlier. That’s a nice affirmation that this is all rational. They’ve both had their share of fear driven breaks, which are much harder to solve.

Since this one’s the kind that doesn’t scare Billy, he keeps joking with Steve to keep him from slipping into that worse place.

“Want me to sing for you? Drown it all out?” He questions, knowing full well he can’t hold a tune worth a damn.

“Please no.” Steve’s so polite about telling Billy what he already knew. It’s really sweet actually.

Billy chuckles lightly, suppressing his laugh so he doesn’t jostle Steve too much, “I hear you. We’ll just be nice and quiet then.”

After so long like that, without any more booming interruptions from outside of their safe spot, Billy’s eyes start to get heavy. He caught Steve the same way, blinking extra hard so his eyelashes danced over Billy’s skin, and so his eyes wouldn’t shut without him.

Normally he’d just let him sleep, and he considers it for a moment, but it’s the celebration of the new year, and Steve would be devastated if they missed the midnight kiss.

Billy realizes they’ve been laying here for so long, he doesn’t even know what time it is, “I’m gonna peek out of the blanket. Check the time.”

Steve doesn’t waste energy on responding beyond a simple nod.

Billy uses his free hand that isn’t under Steve to pull the heavy comforter back down to let the real world back in. His eyes take a moment to adjust to the room again, and then he squints at the clock to see how close they are to the moment.

“Oh shit. It’s 11:56. Only 4 minutes left.” He announces, and Steve pops up beside him from under the blanket eagerly, every bit of tiredness gone from his face and replaced with glowing excitement.

“Are we gonna count them down?”

Billy smiles and shrugs as much as he can with Steve’s weight still on his one arm, “Don’t see why not.”

They count the minutes down together quietly. That’s too long to do it out loud and wear Steve out before it’s even time. Their way of doing that consists of Billy laying still and letting Steve tap out each passing second against the scar in the center of his chest.

When they finally reach an achievable countdown, Billy starts with, “10.”

“9.” Steve takes the next, and they do it in alternating order, although from the way Steve is vibrating with excitement, he’d probably rather skip this step altogether

Still, Steve is so loving with him, even when Billy feels like he doesn’t deserve it.

“8.”

Billy would hold him through anything it took to make Steve feel safe expressing that kind of love.

“7.”

They fought so hard to be this comfortable. Last year, Billy was still in a coma, and Steve was still too scared to even touch him to hold hands.

“6.”

Their first kiss was two months after they started dating, leaning around stitches and big emotions to both finally feel like everything was in place.

“5.”

Someday, they’ll be totally in sync and know when those hard times have passed, but right now it’s a loving, tender work in progress.

“4.”

And maybe someday, they’ll get out of Hawkins, and far away from all the chaos here.

“3.”

Billy gets stronger every day, mentally and physically. Steve gets more in tune with his own needs and self-worth. That’s what a support system and a whole lotta care will do for a couple of guys like them.

“2.”

Most importantly, they’re getting better all the time at communicating, building up the foundations of their relationship.

“1!”

Steve initiates the kiss, grabbing both sides of Billy’s face and smashing their lips together rather than kissing him. It’s reminiscent of their first kiss, in all its clumsy, anxious glory. Billy thinks that’s a good momento to end the worst year of their lives with, and start into what will hopefully be the best.

“Looking forward to another year with you, baby.” He promises, when they break apart and finally get a breath.

Steve wears a delightful smile, “Here’s to another.. hm.. 100?”

That sounds nice. Just him and Steve for the rest of time, no matter how many years pass or how many painful explosions happen.

“Yeah. Cheers to that.”

Happy Holidays from me to you, lovely reader 🤍☃️

~

Billy says a tense, “Thanks, pops,” as Neil hands him a new pack of Marlboros on Christmas morning. He knows it’s only because of Susan and Max that he’s getting anything at all, but he still says his thanks through gritted teeth because manners have been beaten into him.

Susan gifts him a pair of wooly socks, a much needed staple for the frigid weather outside, and he thanks her quietly as he thumbs the fabric - and repeats it louder when Neil tells him to speak up.

Max doesn’t give him her present until after breakfast, which is a Black Sabbath tape to replace the one he’d accidentally ruined by pulling it out of his stereo too fast. He thanks her by ruffling her hair with a smirk, which makes her growl, “Billy!” as she smoothes her hair down. He leaves the newest issue of Wonder Woman on her bedside table when she’s busy with her mom.

The gifts are fine. The ‘quality family time’ makes him want to crawl out of his skin, though. So, once the afternoon rolls around, Billy’s gone.

His favourite gift out of them all is when Steve opens the front door of his big house and his pretty boy’s irritated expression melts away to glittering eyes and a warm, excited smile.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” Billy murmurs with a grin, wishing to give his boy a kiss but his parents are home for once, so it’ll have to wait. Steve says nothing and pulls him into the house by the wrist.

He gives his polite greeting and a ‘Merry Christmas’ to the Harringtons as he steps inside, shedding his jacket and scarf at the door before Steve’s taking him upstairs, away from his busy parents.

Billy glances over his shoulder once they’re in Steve’s bedroom before pulling his boyfriend in by the waist, their lips meeting in a slow, deep kiss. It soothes Billy’s nerves better than anything.

“So,” Steve murmurs as he pulls away just far enough that Billy can see his smile, “Did you make the ‘nice’ list after all?”

“Fuck no,” Billy chuckles softly, his shoulders no longer up by his ears as Steve rubs up and down his biceps.

“I figured,” the brunette grins, pulling away from Billy’s embrace to grab a wrapped box by his bedside table, “Which is why I got you this.” He hums, looking proud of himself.

The wrapping paper is god awful and gaudy, but Billy opens it quietly and pulls the top of the box off to look inside.

It’s a new zippo lighter. Silver, with an engraved ‘B’ at the bottom left corner. Steve mumbles for him to look at the back, so he pulls it out and flips it over, reads the engraving there: ‘Yours, PB’.

Billy snorts softly, looking up at his boyfriend in amusement as he says, “Yours, Peanut Butter?”

Steve looks confused for half a second, brows furrowing, until he gets it and then he’s groaning and running a hand through his thick hair, closing his eyes as he tilts his head back towards the ceiling. After a moment, he mutters, “It stands for ‘pretty boy’.”

Billy starts laughing again, unable to help it, because Steve is so fucking cute and tragic and Billy loves every ounce of him. “C’mere,” he mutters with a grin, putting the zippo back into the box as Steve steps close. Wrapping his free arm around his boyfriend, Billy gives his lips a gentle peck, murmuring playfully, “Thank you, peanut butter, I love it.” He gives Steve another kiss, just for good measure, and a third because Steve’s pouting now and he’s too cute when he does that.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve finally cracks a smile, chuckling softly with a shake of his head, “Fuckin’ peanut butter.”

“Here,” Billy smiles as he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out an envelope, handing it to Steve quietly.

It’s a small collection of polaroid pictures of them, taken by Chrissy during the summer at various locations. The quarry, parties, Steve’s pool, the mall, random parking lots. Billy’s favourite is in there: Steve’s hand on the gear shift of the Camaro, Billy’s hand on top and holding it as he drives. It’s a simple picture but the sun is hitting it just right and you can’t tell it’s them, it’s like a little secret. Chrissy had squished herself into the backseat just to get the picture and Billy’s grateful she did.

Steve’s expression is soft as he looks them over, smiling to himself as he recognizes the areas and recalls the day. There’s also a handwritten ‘IOU a BJ’ card at the bottom of the stack that Steve holds up, eyebrows lifted as he playfully asks, “Is this a one-time use?”

“No,” Billy smirks, “But I’ll be surprised if you manage to not lose it after one use.”

“Asshole,” Steve chuckles, slipping the pictures back into the envelope after taking another look. He leans in and Billy meets him halfway for another kiss, always eager for it.

Steve mumbles, “Thanks baby,” against his lips, pulling away with a warm smile, “I’m gonna put them with the rest,” he says as he pulls away to grab the shoebox under his bed, which is filled with other Billy-related items.

Steve’s mom, decked out in her nicest red dress, comes up the stairs and knocks on the door, giving the two boys a smile as Steve shoves the box under his bed again and stands, breathing, “Yeah?”

“The catering company will be here soon - are you staying for dinner, Billy?” She asks, flicking her dark eyes between them.

Christ. Of course the Harringtons didn’t cook for Christmas - they hired other people to.

Billy shakes his head slowly, “I’d hate to impose—”

“—Nonsense! We’re having multiple guests over, and I’m sure Steve will appreciate having company his own age,” she smiles, her mind already made up.

“Uh - in that case, sure,” he says with a tight smile and a nod, “Thanks, Mrs. H.”

She gives him another smile before looking to Steve, “Make sure you give Billy a nice shirt to wear tonight, okay?”

“Yeah, mom, I know.”

“Great, be down in half an hour,” she says with a nod and turns, heading back downstairs to probably sort out the rest of the evening.

“Fuck, I’ll never get over how stupidly rich you are,” Billy huffs in wry amusement, looking over at his boyfriend again, “And the fuck’s wrong with my shirt?”

Steve shrugs with a smile, “Nothing, in my opinion. My mom’s just…like that. Appearances mean a lot. Gotta wear your sunday best to the Harrington Christmas dinner, babe.”

“Christ - remind me to just kidnap you next year and we’ll go to a McDonald’s.”

Another soft smile appears on Steve’s face and he nods, wrapping his arm around Billy’s middle, kissing him quick and gentle as he mutters, “I’m holding you to that.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m gonna do it.”

“Mm. Love you.”

“Love you, too, peanut butter.”

Steve smacks his ass for that and Billy laughs, sitting down on the bed while his boyfriend goes to pick out a shirt for him.