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

12.

The first time Steve saw Billy truly, irreparably and absolutely broken was the night he walked onto his backyard just to see a figure sitting on the edge of the pool. Steve didn't need to look any closer to know who the body belonged to. He was so well acquainted with it – its shape, the way it moved, the way it made his very own body respond – he'd have been able to recognize it in the deepest of nights. After all, he had spent the darkest of hours with his hands memorizing every curve of it – every dip and scar and imperfection were forever imbedded in his muscle memory.

He did not know why Billy didn't ring the doorbell, or call (or just walk in, for God's sake, it's not like he'd never done it before). But Billy was just sitting there, at the edge of the pool, with his feet dipped just below the surface, rippling the otherwise calm water. His whole posture was somehow... wrong. His back was hunched over, as if he was slowly falling into himself. He gave out an impression of a withering rose, finally crumbling under the weight of the world.

Steve sat down next to him, kicked off his shoes and let his feet sink into the freezing water in an echo of Billy's own. Billy's blank face was faintly illuminated by the light reflected off of the waves, dancing over his skin like a blue flame, licking at the edges, morphing it into something entirely new.

"I wanted to call you," Billy whispered under his breath, "I just didn't know what I'd say."

"Billy..." Steve started. He wasn't sure what to say either. He wasn't used to seeing Billy like this – absolutely void of emotion.

"Do you know what it's like to want to die?" Billy asked abruptly, as if the question had been on the tip of his tongue for a long time, just waiting to be let out. And in all honesty, Steve didn't. No matter how sad, angry or depressed he was, he had never wished for death. It just felt way too final and Steve was a person brimming with hope.

"Billy..." Steve tried again, this time with far more desperation marking his voice.

Billy bowed his head even deeper until his chin was almost touching his neck. "You have no idea how he makes me feel. Worthless, redundant, as if I'm just there to breathe his air." Billy ran his fingers through his already disheveled hair. His hands were trembling so badly Steve wanted to reach out and take them into his, hold onto them, keep them steady. But before he could, Billy reached down and gripped the edge of his shirt, he looked up for a moment to make brief eye contact with Steve, as if he was ensuring himself that he was there and watching. Then he pulled it up and Steve's heart stopped for a moment, broke, started again. There, on Billy's otherwise flawless chest, a large circle was carved out. With a knife and a drunkard's hand, Steve guessed from the uneven line. The wound was already scabbed over and healing slowly. Steve wasn't naïve enough to think the scar the blade had left below the surface would ever heal. He mourned Billy's soul, for he knew that, after this, it was gone for good – left in shreds too small to stitch back together.

"A zero. How fitting, isn't it?" Billy scoffed, the words tasting like poison in his mouth. His voice was shaking, occasionally broken by a suppressed sob.

"Your father..." Steve breathed out, unable to take his eyes off of the once smooth skin that he had run his hands over mere days ago.

"He told me things about my mother. Horrible things, Steve. He told me I was an accident. That he never wanted me. That no one would ever want me. Why would anyone want a fuck up like me anyway? Fuck," he buried his face into his hands, forceful sobs shaking his body violently. "I'm a zero. Nothing. And everyone should know."

Steve reached over and pulled Billy to him – so close he didn't know where his body ended and the other began. He didn't tell him everything was going to be okay. He didn't tell him that his father didn't mean what he said. He didn't tell him that one day he would look back and laugh at the ridiculousness of the entire situation. Steve wasn't a liar. But Steve did press his mouth into Billy's golden hair and whispered 'I love you, I love you, I love you,' over and over and over again until he felt like a broken record.

"I want to leave. I want to go back to California. I could find a place to stay. I could find a job, a decent apartment. I don't want to live like this Steve. I can't do this anymore."

Steve shook his head. In that moment, he may have been selfish and he may have been a horrible human being but he couldn't let Billy go. Not now, after everything. "Stay with me. Just three more months until graduation. Then we are free to go."

"Where will we go?"

"Anywhere you want," Steve promised.

He could feel Billy's lips twitch against his collar bone. "That sounds nice."

"Yeah. Yeah, it does."

And so, the next day, Steve helped Billy carry his things into the trunk of the Camaro. He cleaned out a drawer for Billy to put his clothes into. He pinned up Billy's posters above his bed. He made room for Billy's hairspray on his bathroom shelf.

Just three more months. Then they would go wherever Billy's heart desired. Steve would make sure of that because he promised and Billy deserved better than empty words and broken promises.