#Can't wait to delve into billy pov <3

[bidarcywriter]

“You here for Max?” 

Billy stopped about a foot from the passenger side window, close enough for Steve to catch a whiff of smoke, sharp mint, and some cologne Billy must’ve just applied for how strong it was. Cinnamon tones burned in Steve’s airways. He stole a glance at the open V of his shirt, telling himself it was a hunt for Starcourt scars. 

“How the fuck aren’t you freezing your ass off?” Steve shook his head in mock disapproval. "In case you didn’t get the memo, it’s February. And yeah, yeah I’m here for Max.”

Billy tilted his head to one side, and Steve could almost feel hot steam on his neck from the showers in Hawkins high, almost. It wasn’t quite the same. Billy sized up an opponent back then, an enemy, tried to draw out the infamous King Steve just to flaunt his superiority; now Billy just looked...tired. Apathetic underneath that killer grin. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about my ass.”

That brought a humorless smile to Steve’s lips. Rebellious and unable to resist what he called the “fuck it” impulse, he dropped his gaze to view said ass, every bit of its hard-earned curve. Steve used Ted Wheeler as inspiration for how impressed to be. “Whatever, Hargrove.”

That, surprisingly, earned a chuckle from Billy. Like he didn’t expect Steve to do it. “Cassidy.”

“What?”

Billy blew a steady stream of smoke away from his car, waited for it to fade, then shrugged. Steve thought it looked a hair too casual for someone who didn’t give a fuck. “Trying something out.”

“Oh.” Silence carried on for about four seconds (subjective four minutes) and Steve’s stomach twisted, adding nerves to a cocktail of uncertainty. He felt awkward knowing it must be his mother’s name, the one who left him all those years ago in Sunny California. “Yeah. I—it uh, suits you.”

Billy grinned with his teeth. That was more like him, inching dangerously close to the asshole from senior year and every bit as suave, but the tell—Steve noticed up close—was in his eyes. So blue now. Empty of that visceral, nameless thing that used to fog them up like storm clouds. Empty of a lot of things. 

A shell, he realized.

“Liar.”

He was right.

Billy Cassidy sounded all kinds of strange to Steve, like ill-fitting clothes or stiff shoes. Not like Steve didn’t get distancing himself from ‘Hargrove,’ though - everyone in Hawkins heard about how Neil dealt with the massive Starcourt shitshow of ’85.

It was kind of messed up, honestly. Billy had still been in the coma when the government showed up and Neil fucked off like a bat out of hell - ‘like Billy’s mother did’, Steve overheard someone say. At the local supermarket. 

Small towns, man. Small fucking towns.

There were other rumors, too. Darker ones made of human monsters and fake smiles, but Steve had no clue whether those were true. He felt guilty for even listening in the first place, because they weren’t the kind of stories he could (or wanted to) confirm. Only one thing was sure. Hargrove or Cassidy, it didn’t matter: Billy would resent any pity Steve showed him. So he swallowed it down.

“You could grow into it,” Steve offered instead. 

“That’s the idea.”

A pause. Then, since Steve felt like pushing it today—“So, you really staying in Hawkins? Thought you’d be halfway to California the minute your car was up and running.”

Billy cocked a brow. Steve noticed a small slit in the arch of it, unable to discern if it was style or something that used to bleed. “Hawkins is the shit hole of shit holes, but lucky for the shit hole, I’m staying a while. Not like my baby won’t get a taste of California streets again soon.” He took a leisurely drag. “Why? Hoping I’d get out of your hair?”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

Billy chuckled, but the sound was different than before. Like nails scraping pavement. “Precious, coming from the guy who visited daily when I was out cold.” The emptiness in Billy’s gaze didn’t disappear, still swallowed up any spark of life, but he continued to sound more like his dickish self with every sentence. A pink tongue poked out from between his teeth. “According to Max, that is. I’m touched. Really.”

Steve groaned as his cheeks warmed. Wished he could smack his forehead against something hard. Max Mayfield was a traitor. “Yeah, don’t get too excited. Your sister needed someone there in case you, I don’t know, tried to fucking stab her with another broken floor tile.”

Reflecting back, he had absolutely no clue what made him say it. Steve only got bits and pieces of what happened with the sauna test; the kids, Max in particular, hated talking about it.

Billy’s cigarette fell to one side. For a split second he looked stunned, like he’d been hit, and even though he recovered fast and scrubbed away all evidence with a smile like a concrete wall, Steve tasted guilt. 

He—fuck.

Steve scratched the back of his neck, fingers stinging. Not meeting Billy’s eyes. “Shit, man. I shouldn’t have—jesus.”

“Save it, Harrington,” Billy cut in, voice sinking an octave. Steve had expected it to sound angry, not resigned. Not hollow. “I know what I fucking did.”

Something churned in Steve’s stomach. Sickened him. He never thought about whether Billy remembered what the Mindflayer did with his body. He lit up with the sudden urge to double down on his apology, to explain he didn’t hold Billy responsible for all that shit, none of them did, but when he parted his lips? Nothing came out. The words got stuck somewhere between formation and the roof of his mouth. 

Mercifully, Max chose that moment to shimmy through the front door sideways, shattering the tension like a rock through a window. 

Full fic here <3

#my writing #Feeling You #currently working on chapter 2 #Can't wait to delve into billy pov <3 #hurt & comfort for days #Billy Hargrove Redemption #billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove #post season 3 #fic excerpt