Kiss with a Fist

Chapter 2

Steve didn't know what to do. He anxiously ran a hand through his hair and stared at the sleeping boy on his couch.

Billy Hargrove was sleeping on his couch.

Billy Hargrove who had beaten him to a bloody pulp a week ago.

Billy Hargrove who was abused.

Steve had wanted to call Hopper, but Billy had begged him not to, and well, Billy was begging. Billy never begged. So Steve gave in.

But fuck what was he supposed to do now?
Billy had fallen asleep after crying for at least half an hour. Blonde curls fell over his tear tracked face and Steve watched him sleep, his heart breaking as he listened to every wheezing breath, the telltale sign that Billy had broken ribs. Steve had held him as he cried. Now Billy was asleep and Steve just felt lost.

He felt like he should take Billy to the hospital but Billy had freaked at the word hospital so that was out of the question.

So he couldn't take him to the hospital and he couldn't call the police. Hargrove really wasn't leaving him many options.

He managed to unbutton Billy's shirt while the blonde slept, he did his best to clean the painful welts and lacerations on the other's back and stomach. There's no way Billy would allow him to do this while awake, but he also felt guilty for doing it while the other wasn't aware. At least it meant that Billy was in less pain.

Steve decided he should make some sort of food for when Billy woke up-since the blonde had thrown up his entire stomach contents and most of his stomach acid on top that. Steve figured soup would be the safest option.

Billy woke up to the smell of food. He looked down, realising he was now in an oversized sweater instead of the tight fitting red button up.

He flushed slightly as he realised Harrington had dressed him. Steve walked over with soup and some more painkillers which Billy was grateful for because he felt like he'd been hit by a train.

He struggled to swallow the painkillers, his throat protesting every second and making him cough, which in turn jostled his broken ribs. Steve rubbed his back as he coughed and groaned.

The soup was warm and soothed Billy's throat at least. Steve put Star Wars on the tv and they sat in silence for awhile, not an awkward silence but a comfortable one.

"Why does your dad hit you..?" Steve asked. He didn't really think about the words they just spilled out.

Billy snorted. "The real question is why doesn't he. There's a short list of things he doesn't beat me for Harrington." He looked up at the ceiling like he was asking god to give him strength. "Biggest reason is I'm a fag." Billy muttered.

Steve's eyes widened and it was then that Billy realised what he'd just admitted. He tried to get up, fully intent of running. Steve quickly stopped him, getting him to lay back down. "It's okay Billy. I...I don't think I'm straight either. I like girls but I think I like guys too-so I'm not going to say anything, but don't call yourself a fag. It's a slur." Steve huffed, remembering all the times he'd used the word with his old friends, until Will had told him what it actually meant.

Billy looked down. "I'll try not to." He murmured.

Steve awkwardly hugged Billy in an attempt to comfort him. "That's all I ask." He said softly.

Steve really wanted to kill Neil. Billy looked so tired. So lost. It was so unlike Billy.

The usually tanned skin was pale and Billy evidently had a fever as he was shivering but his skin was scorching to the touch. Steve grabbed an ice pack and laid it on Billy's head, the other sighed in relief and blinked lazily at Steve, his eyes unfocused. A faint smile graced his lips and Steve instinctively reached out to gently pet Billy's here. "Get some rest." He whispered.

Billy leaned into the touch before closing his eyes. He planned to do just that.

Steve realised then and there that he'd gotten attached. He was going to care about Billy even if it killed him. Steve had 99 problems and he decided to make Billy one of them.