#billy has a diary that he just wrote about steve and max reads it

[harringroveera]

He thinks it’s real fancy Steve

[stanbillyhargrove]

Demons Ending B pt 2.1

Billy Hargrove x Reader (Cat)

T/W: Self Harm (Cat), Abuse, Eating Disorder   Cat has a lot of issues

BIG WARNING: SEXUAL ASSAULT, DRUGS, SUICIDE

This chapters too big 💀 it has to be 2 parts!!

Steve's POV

After Billy left I stalked into the kitchen to pull a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet. What the fuck does he know anyway?

Does he know what the crushing weight in my chest feels like? How it threatens to crush bone and send shards piercing through flesh? Does it hurt when he breathes too? Like every part of being alive is wrong now?

He said he loved her but then why is he okay with her being gone?

When I had gotten through a quarter of the bottle, my curiosity for the notebook got the best of me and I stumbled to grab it and bring it back to the table. Inside were taped in photos of Billy, Max and I in between pages of drawings. I realized this was essentially her diary when I saw the scribbles of writing every now and again. Just small snippets of her thoughts scattered throughout the pages.

"I think things could get better here, I have some good friends now."

"Billy....I think I love him."

"I was wrong. Things are worse. Much worse."

"Steve makes things easier, I don't deserve him."

"Billy and I can't be together anymore. I don't know if I can do this."

"I slept with Steve...Billy and I are definitely over now...I love them both and now I fucked everything up."

I get it now. She felt that same crushing, endless weight, like you're drowning and you can't figure out where the water ends.

I shoved the book away, my face screwing up as I tried to fight back tears. Brought a hand up to push the heel of my palm against my eye, as if I could push the emotion back in. A wet sob left me when the dam broke and I sank my head into my arms to let out everything I'd been trying to hold back.

It took a while for me to bring my head up so I could bring the whiskey back to my lips. Let it pour and burn down my throat, trying to chase away the pain. With a huff, I wiped my face and pulled the book back.

"Steve's saved my life more than I deserve. Sometimes I think he should have let me go, I hate hurting him. I need to get away."

"Billy knows now, but I think it's too late. I'm so tired, so fucking tired."

"I love them, I love them so much it hurts. But I don't know if love is enough to fix me."

"I'm sorry."

--

I tried to call Billy the next morning after burying my hangover in more alcohol.

"Hello?"

"Max? Max, you gotta..gotta get that fucker on the phone for me."

"Steve? Are you okay?"

Her worried tone set my teeth on edge and I cracked, unleashed a little of my simmering anger on her.

"No, I'm not fucking okay! Put him on the phone!"

There was a moment of silence before Billy's growling voice came over the phone.

"Wanna tell me why you're yelling at my sister, Harrington?"

"How could you drop that shit on me and then leave? You fucking asshole!" I spat.

I knew I was pushing Billy to the edge, but couldn't bring myself to care if I would be on the receiving end of his anger.

"You really want to fight this out, Steve? You know it's not gunna end well."

"Yeah, let's..let's fucking fight...I've got nothing left to lose anyway."

He seemed caught off guard and went quiet for a minute before sighing, "Steve. Do you really think Cat would want to see you like this?"

"She's not...not fucking here now, is she? She can't see us, fucking fight me."

He let out a low chuckle, "you're still running."

I sputtered, even angrier now, "fuck you! Fight me!"

Billy let out another sigh, "sober up. If you call and yell at Max again we're gunna have problems."

--

My parents arrived like a whirlwind that night, fuming and red faced, my dad screaming as soon as his feet hit the doorway.

"STEVEN! GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE!"

I hung my head as I left the safety of my room and stumbled out to face them. Mom was on me in an instant, grabbing my head and turning it all around to inspect me while Dad yelled in the background. Luckily, I had left the hospital with only minor things, though she clucked over the cut in my forehead. Her moving me was making me dizzy, nauseous, and I groaned when I tried to push her hands away.

"Are you drunk? Jesus, Steven, are you trying to destroy my reputation?" Dad's tyrade continued, "how could you do this to me? You're a fucking embarrassment!"

He stormed out of the entryway, no doubt going to find himself something to drink, leaving me to continue being prodded at by my mom.

"Oh, Steven," she sighed, "This isn't like you. Drinking and driving? How could you be so stupid?"

As if you'd know, I thought, you're never here. You don't know me.

"It was an accident," I mumbled.

"Well I would hope so. What's going on with you? We got a call saying you haven't been at school in a month and then this. You can't graduate if you don't go to class, Steven."

Graduation.

She didn't get to graduate. Didn't make it out of highschool.

I was so raw from repeatedly going through the notebook that my breath started to hitch again and my eyes filled with tears and I couldn't hold myself up anymore.

My face crumpled as sobs started racking my body again.

"Mom," I sobbed.

My mom stumbled back a couple steps when I slumped into her, burying my wet face in her shoulder.

"Steve, what? What happened?"

I hiccuped out sobs, my gut heaving so hard it hurt. My head was swimming, the crying, alcohol and concussion mixing together so I couldn't think.

"Steve, talk to me."

"She..she killed herself and...and it's my fault."

Mom's hand gently smoothed down my heaving back, "Honey, who killed themself?"

"She w-was my best friend," I stuttered, clutching at my mom's coat desperately.

She cooed gently and slowly led me to the couch to sit with me curled into her chest.

"Sweetie, I'm sure it wasn't your fault."

"I-it was...I wasn't there, and, and I should have been...she needed me...and now I, I can't stop..can't..it h-hurts, I don't want to hurt anymore..I n-need help, Mom."

Her arms tightened around my back, "we can get you help, okay? I'll get it all figured out before we have to leave again. Do you have a friend who can take you into the city until you get a new car?"

I didn't know if I did anymore but I nodded anyway, my voice lost behind the knot in my throat. My mom let me cry until my eyes felt puffy and I had nothing left and then I slowly pushed myself up to sit on the edge of the couch. She followed, sitting up beside me with a worried look in her eyes.

"Sorry about the car," I mumbled, "Dad's gunna kill me."

"Let me worry about your father, okay?"

"Thanks, Mom."

--

Therapy and AA meetings. That's what I had to agree to before my parents left right after Christmas. Go the therapy, go through the steps, take the rest of this year but enroll back in school to graduate a year late with Billy. I decided to call the Hargrove house after not hearing from Billy for a week, swallowing any shred of pride I had left to ask him for help.

"Hello?" Max answered, her chipper voice mixing with my hangover to make my head pound.

"Max," I mumbled, "hey."

"Steve? Oh...hey, uh..I haven't heard from you in a while.."

"Yeah..yeah, sorry.."

I heard a low voice in the background, talking to Max.

"It's Steve...hey!"

There was a shuffling before Billy's voice rumbled in my ear.

"Harrington? You alright?"

"Yeah, fine..."

"Don't fucking lie to me," he growled.

There was a moment of silence, both of us trying to figure out where to go now.

"I miss you, brother," I murmured, slumping against the wall, "I need your help."

He sighed, sounding relieved, "I'm coming."

--

Billy showed up at my door, took one look at my puffy face and pulled me into a hug, crushing me in his arms a little too hard.

"Are you okay?"

"No," I mumbled before clearing my throat and speaking louder, "no, I'm not. I'm fucking sad."

"I know, man. I know, I'm sad too," Billy murmured, tightening his arms around me even more.

"Billy," I grunted, "hurts, can't breathe."

He patted his hand on my back before releasing me, "I'm glad you called me, Steve. I was starting to worry about you."

I huffed, "listen...I'm sorry..."

"For what? You didn't do anything. I mean other than yell at Max and I, but I understand. I feel the same way. I'm angry too, brother...so fucking angry...and sad," he cleared his throat, "it's not your fault, you don't have anything to be sorry for."

I sniffed, trying to hold myself together, "thanks, Billy."

"You will have to apologize to Max though and I'm warning you, she requires groveling."

I smirked, a puffy laugh coming out of my nose.

"So what made you decide to call me? Not that I don't want help you, but you didn't seem like you wanted help."

"The book..I've read it a thousand times I think, some of the things she wrote..I've uh..thought some of the same things..and I realized I can't do this by myself."

He walked into the kitchen while I talked to look through the fridge, "yeah, some of it was really hard to read...want a beer?"

He emerged from the fridge with two cans and held one out to me.

I reached out and took it, swallowing a large gulp before clearing my throat, "actually...I want to talk to you about something...I need a favor."

Billy's eyebrow lifted, "what's going on, Steve?"

I took a deep breath, "I uh...I need a ride into the city once a week, just until I get a new car. I know it's a lot to ask," I started rambling," and I can pay you for the gas and if you don't want to that's okay, I can figure something else-"

"I'll do it."

"What?"

He stared hard at me, "I said, I'll do it. You need help, I'll help you. Just tell me why."

"Billy.." I looked away from him, fiddled with the beer can in my hand.

"Just spit it out, I'll find out anyway. What do I gotta drive you to the city every week for?"

"AA," I mumbled.

"What?"

"AA meetings...Alcoholics Anonymous..and therapy. Once a week."

"Oh shit, Steve," he looked surprised, held up the can in his hand, "is this not allowed?"

I gave him a small smirk, "haven't started yet. But yeah, until I get myself back together, no more drinking."

"Fuck, you just got a lot more boring," he teased, smirking at me.

"Asshole."

"Hey, you knew that when you called me. Seriously, brother, I'm glad you're getting help. I'd do anything for you."

"Same. Anything."

I smiled, could see a tiny light shine through the dark in my brain, "hey, you got that box you were talking about?"

--

Inside the shoebox that Billy had stored in his car was the entirety of Cat's life here in Hawkins. The entirety of our relationships with her, all neatly packed into one painful box.

Movie ticket stubs and pictures. Pictures of Billy and I playing basketball back when we hated each other, of Cat bundled up to go out, Max skateboarding with her hair flying out behind her, me looking into the distance with the ghost of a smile, Billy blowing out a cloud of smoke that swirled around him. There were so many pictures.

A couple well loved shirts that she had stolen from Billy were rolled up tight and tucked into one side, the smell of her still clinging to the fabric. A couple flattened boxes of tea that she had enjoyed and some dried flowers. Mixtapes with colorful hearts painted on them. At the bottom of the box was a smaller box with jewelry inside. Rings that didn't fit on her tiny fingers anymore, and a delicate silver heart hanging from a chain with a broken clasp.

"Jesus," I rasped, "where'd you find this?"

He took a hard drag off his cigarette, talking around the smoke curling from his mouth, "Julie gave it to me when I stopped by."

"You went to her house?"

He hummed, nodding his head, "yep. Been a few times. Julie said we're all welcome there."

"Why? Why would you want to go back there without her?"

Billy shrugged, fingers fidgeting with the necklace in his lap, "Julie's nice, and she doesn't like to be alone," he let out a long sigh, "sometimes, it feels like Cat's just in her room, waiting...she never is obviously, but I check. All the time."

I fell quiet, let the sadness in for a brief moment as he reached up to take his necklace off and threaded the heart charm onto it before placing it back over his head.

"I'm scared, Billy...scared that I'll forget her."

"So don't forget her, Steve. I never will. We can still love and remember her and let her go."

"When did you get so smart, Hargrove?"

He smirked, "Julie's been going to therapy since Cat...we talk about it all the time. It helps."

"Ahh so you're just repeating what Julie told you?"

He smiled and tapped his nose, "watered down but yeah."

"Thanks, Brother."

--

Billy stopped drinking almost completely as I went through AA, made the switch with me to soda and smoking weed. I told him he didn't have to, but he insisted.

"Don't want a beer gut," he'd joked.

He would drive me to the city every week for therapy and AA meetings after which, I would spend the next couple hours exhausted and drawn into myself while I went over everything in my head. It took weeks, months even, to unpack my guilt over Cat's death. To realize that I didn't deserve to feel guilty over something I didn't do and that I tried my best to help Cat but it was not my job to fix her. I learned that I was allowed to be angry, to feel abandoned and hurt, but that I couldn't let that control my life.

Even when I got a new car, Billy still drove me.

"I like getting out of Hawkins, sue me," he'd said when I asked him why he still carted me around.

I knew it was more than that, that Billy and I cared about each other and he wanted to be there for me. I could tell because every time I got a new sober chip, he'd have a genuine smile on his face while he congratulated me and we'd celebrate with ice cream or donuts.

--

Billy and I graduated at the same time, both our hearts heavy as we thought about Cat never crossing that stage. We retreated to my house afterwards to get high and gorge ourselves on all the junk food we could find. Spent the night watching movies and wistfully talking about Cat, how she should have been here, how much we missed her. We made a high promise to move to California together and get tattoos for her. We were so out of his mind, I didn't think either of us would remember and our words would just be lost in the wind.

--

He remembered.

A month after we graduated Billy showed up at my house with a list of available apartments all over San Diego, Los Angeles and San Francisco.

"Where are we moving, Steve? I don't care as long as there's a beach."

I laughed a little, only stopping when I saw the hurt look on his face, "wait, what? You're serious?"

The look disappeared, replaced by the old 'I don't care' front Billy used to always have up, "don't be stupid, Harrington, I'm just fucking with you."

"Oh come on, we were so high I didn't think we would even remember saying that we were moving together."

Billy took a cigarette out of his jacket and stuck it between his teeth to light it, "I thought you wanted to get the fuck out of Hawkins. That it hurts too much to be here."

"Well, yeah," I mumbled, "I do..want to leave."

He smirked the front falling down again, "then pack your shit, we can leave when summer's over. You'll love California, gunna burn like crazy though."

--

That was the last summer we spent in Hawkins. We loaded up everything we could fit into our cars and spent three days driving across the country to San Diego. After we settled in, I phoned my parents to let them know where I was so they could ship our furniture and to let them know if they were on this side of the country to stop in. I knew they wouldn't, but I offered anyway. Billy quickly called Max, told her if she needed to escape to let us know, that he'd come get her if he had to.

I found a job at an arcade, which was crazy and fun and didn't pay great but did pay my half of our bills with a little left over. Billy started working at a mechanic's shop that he really liked. The first thing we did after settling in was find a tattoo shop and get matching tattoos for Cat. There was a picture in her journal of a couple little flowers that we got with her name on our wrists.

--

As it neared the anniversary of Cat's death I found myself slipping. Down into that dark place where all I could think was 'what was it about me that wasn't good enough?' I stayed up all night, asking again and again as if she'd come out of the shadows and give me the answer. The answer that I hadn't found even when I had been going to therapy.

Found myself hiding in my car or room, chasing away the cold with sips of burning alcohol. Just enough to take the edge off, I'm still sober, I thought as I hid cans and bottles in the bottom of the trash can.

Max's phone call was what set me over the edge.

I walked in to Billy stomping around our apartment, throwing clothes into a duffle bag and cursing.

"What's going on?"

"I need to go," he huffed, going to the bathroom to grab his things.

"Go? What do you mean?"

"It's Max," he called, "she needs me to come get her."

Fuck.

"Y-yeah, okay, is she okay?"

"I don't, I don't fucking know, Steve. She just, she needs me," he came back and threw a bunch of stuff in his bag, zipping it up before looking at me, "I'll be gone a week, you gunna be okay?"

The anniversary of her death was only a couple days away, of course I wasn't okay.

"Yeah," I lied, a fake smile on my face, "I'll be fine. Go get Max."

He was too preoccupied to second guess me, just clapped me on the shoulder and quickly pulled me in for a hug before running out the door with a, "see you soon, brother."

I drank myself blind every minute I wasn't at work that week.

Billy's POV

Any signs of Steve not being okay were pushed to the back of my head when Max called. She hadn't told me what happened, just said she needed to leave so I quickly called my boss, packed some shit and started driving.

--

I pulled up to the house in the dead of night, when I knew it would be easiest to sneak Max out. Swallowed down my anxiety to quietly move up the lawn towards her window and tap lightly on the glass. A minute later, the curtain moved and I saw her pale face peering out into the darkness. She saw me standing there and slid the window open as quietly as she could, both of us wincing whenever there was a noise, waiting for the monster that was Neil. Both of us let out a breath when the house stayed dark and Max disappeared to push a bag out the window. I grabbed it and gently set it on the ground before helping her climb out the window and running back to my car. Threw her bag in the back seat and gathered her into my arms for a hug that I could tell she desperately needed by the way she clutched the back of my jacket.

"Does Susan know you're leaving? Or are you gunna be on the side of milk cartons tomorrow?" I tried to lighten the mood a little once inside the car.

"She knows. Don't need to worry," Max snipped.

I didn't ask questions, just nodded and turned my music on low for the drive. After a few minutes I noticed a light snore coming from Max. She had tucked herself into the door of the Camaro and fallen asleep on her arm.

The light purple bruise on her cheek set me off, reignited a raging fire in my gut that begged me to turn the car around and teach that fucker a lesson.

--

We were finally driving into San Diego when I finally asked her. Up until this point we talked about what we'd been doing since I left and stayed far away from the subject of the bruise on her face but I needed to know and I knew it would be easier to talk about it now rather than in front of Steve.

"So..you gunna tell me what he did?"

Max looked down at her lap, tried changing the subject, "how's Steve? Is he still doing okay?"

I ran a hand along the side of my face, "you can ask him yourself when we get there. Don't change the subject."

"Billy..."

"Max, what happened?"

She sighed and looked out the side window, "after you left, things were good, great actually for a while, but a couple months ago he started getting angry again."

"Has this been happening for months? And you just called me now?"

"No, he just started yelling. All the time, about everything. At first it was just at mom but then he started yelling at me too."

I could see Max's nails digging into her hand, knew she was trying to stay strong, even if her chin was wavering.

"I kept asking mom to leave, to take us away from him...but she wouldn't."

I sighed, Susan never did know when enough was enough.

"He caught me sneaking out, was halfway through the window when the light turned on," she swallowed hard before continuing, "drug me back inside and," Max's hands came up to make air quotes, "taught me about respect."

My hands tightened on the steering wheel until my knuckles bleached, "jesus, Max."

She chewed her lip, "I tried all the next day to get mom to leave, go to the cops...something. But she wouldn't, so I told her I'm not staying here and I was calling you to get me. She agreed to it, even said she'd help me."

"Fuck.."

Max snorted, "yeah, fuck...so, how's things been? Having fun out here?"

"Yeah," I smiled, "yeah, it's been nice out here. Easier."

Max nodded and shifted restlessly in the seat, "good, that's good."

--

Thanksgiving rolled around and Steve's parents had insisted on taking him out for lunch since they were in the area. While he was gone, Max and I went shopping for dinner and snacks.

We were placing appies on baking sheets when Steve finally stormed back into the apartment and immediately closed himself in his room.

A look of confusion crossed Max's face, "what's up with him?"

I shook my head, "shitty parents? He's been moody lately, probably needs to go back to therapy."

"Well should you talk to him?"

"Yeah," I murmured, "yeah, I should. You got this?"

Max nodded once, "yep!"

I left her in charge of dinner to stand in front of the door to Steve's room, taking a deep breath before tapping my knuckle against the door.

"What?"

"Better be dressed, brother, I'm coming in," I said as I opened the door.

Steve was lying sideways across his bed, blowing thick clouds of smoke past his lips as he stared at the ceiling. I stepped in and closed the door behind me before leaning against it.

"What's going on?"

He sat up slowly and flicked his cigarette into the ash tray next to his bed. I noticed it was overflowing and that ashes had started piling onto the table.

"Nothing."

"Harrington, don't bullshit me. Aren't we past that?"

He huffed but didn't let anything out so I continued, "you've been down for a while now, are you doing okay?"

That seemed to hit him, to crack through the wall he had put up, I could see in the way his face fell, how the anger dropped away.

"I just..need some time, I think. Everything's been a lot.."

I nodded, "hey, I get it. We got Max living with us now, holidays are coming, family sucks," I crossed the room to drop a hand on his shoulder, "but don't hide away from us, okay? I'm here for you."

"Yeah..yeah, okay. Just give me a bit, I'll come out and eat with you guys."

I clapped my hand on his shoulder, "dinner is in half an hour."

--

Max and I had finished making dinner, set everything out on the kitchen counters and were ready to fill our plates when Steve came out of his room.

"Hey, Steve," Max grinned, holding out a plate for him.

He offered up a tight smile when he took the plate, "thanks, Max. Smells awesome you guys."

We piled up our plates and sat around the table, started to dig in until Max stopped us.

"Wait, we need to say what we're thankful for."

I groaned, "Max."

"Come on, Billy, it's tradition!"

"Fine," I grumbled, quickly swallowing my mouthful of food, "I'm thankful that my family is here now, safe and I never have to set foot in fucking Hawkins again."

Max smiled at him before clearing her throat, "alright, I'll go next. I'm thankful to be here, away from Neil and to both of you for letting me live with you."

Steve smiled at her before he started talking, "I...I'm thankful to..to have family that cares about me," his smile faltered, "and...and I'm...I haven't been sober," Steve's resolve cracked and tears gathered in his eyes, "not since before you went to get Max. Her death...I just..I'm sorry, I'm sorry for lying about it and..for failing. I...I think I need more help."

"Steve," I started, standing up to go around the table and comfort him, "don't be sorry, you didn't fail. If you need more help we can do that. I can take you to AA again, okay?"

He nodded, face crumpling as he leaned into my shoulder. Max stood up and slid an arm around Steve's back.

"I love you guys," he mumbled.

Steve went back to therapy after calling his mom and admitting he still needed help. After a while he even found the answer he needed in order to move on.

--

We found a bigger place just after Christmas that year so we could each have our own room instead of Max sleeping on the couch. Through short lived relationships and one night stands, we stayed there for the next few years until Max went to college. Then it was just Steve and I until he wanted to move in with his new girlfriend. So we packed up our place and he moved in with his girlfriend and I moved into a smaller place by myself on the beach. We were only a twenty minute drive from each other so we could still see each other all the time and I could still take Steve to AA meetings. He doesn't go all the time anymore, just once every month or so.

We learned to live without Cat, the sting never went away, not fully anyway, but it didn't threaten to overwhelm anymore. Steve, Max and I would all gather together for the holidays with the people we were dating but the weekend of her death stayed just Steve and I. Sometimes Max was there, but usually he and I would stay at my place and hang out together. We'd smoke up, pig out on food and remember Cat. He stopped feeling like he was drowning when he thought about her, could instead remember the good times with a watery smile.

We weren't always okay, not right away but every day would get a little better. The three of us would always be there for each other.