A Brief History of Falling for Billy Hargrove [harrington x hargrove]

4.

The first time they actually talked after they were done throwing punches was two weeks after their night meet-ups had become a regular thing. Steve fell onto the grass after a particularly hard punch, laughing. He didn't feel like getting up so he just didn't. At this point Billy would mumble a halfhearted goodbye and leave, only dust from under the Camaro's tires left in his wake. This time, however, he stayed. He sat down next to Steve and pulled out a pack of Camels. He brought it up to his lips and picked one out with his teeth, then held the pack out to Steve.

Billy lit Steve's cigarette first, sheltering the flame with his palm until the end caught on fire, then proceeded to light his own. They sat in comfortable silence, almost too confortable for the two of them.

It was strange, Steve thought, how much their attitude toward each other had changed since they started fighting, as if they didn't necessarily need to hate each other. Maybe they never really did. To Steve, it was fascinating to observe how Billy's whole demeanor seemed to transform in the dark, as if a part of his burden fell off and he could breathe properly for a moment.

"You know Harrington, you are not that bad after all," Billy said out of the blue, puffing out rings of cigarette smoke.

Steve hadn't been thinking of Billy as Hargrove for a long time now but he couldn't really call him Billy without it sounding weirdly out of place so, instead, he said, "You are not that bad yourself, Hargrove."

Billy laughed, "I thought you were a spoiled brat, ya know, because you live in a fancy house and all. And for God's sake, they call you King Steve around here. What kind of guy has people call him King? I hated you the moment I heard about you." Steve wanted to defend himself somehow (because maybe he was a popular, horribly conceited idiot once but not anymore, not after all the shit he went through with the kids and Nancy and fuck, he was not that guy anymore) but Billy continued before he could say anything, "Sometimes, when we fight, I feel like you may be just as fucked up as me. You are raw inside, Harrington, you are messed up. I kind of like you for that."

And Billy was fucking right. Steve was fucked up – his parents had never given a fuck, they cared more about their careers then they cared about Steve. And maybe he looked like a spoiled brat from the outside but money wasn't everything and so he made the school love him, appreciate him, adore him. And then he met a girl who cared, who made him feel wanted, and he thought that maybe life wasn't that bad after all, until he realized she was not meant for him or maybe he was not meant for her and she and Jonathan Byers made such a fucking iconic pair that it made him sick. And then there was Billy who took everything that he had left away from him without really even trying. And Steve hated him for it. He truly hated him until he took a good hard look into those blue eyes full of pain, pain, pain and hurt, hurt, hurt masked by anger and resentment and meanness. And he wondered if Billy had been pushing everything back for so long that he had convinced even himself. Steve liked to think that, when they were alone, Billy let him see glimpses of the person who he could have been, should have been, may still be if one only dug deep enough. And so Steve took a long drag of his cigarette and said, "Funny thing Billy, I kind of like you too."