#harringrove & the party | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

suspiciouslackofclowns · 1 year ago

Text

Maybe instead of getting better after Starcourt, instead of healing and mending that which has been broken, Billy just gets worse.

There’s no more playful grins behind cigarettes or keg stands held in good fun. No more speeding down empty backroads or engines revving in parking lots. He gets quiet, and that’s the scary part.

Because as soon as someone presses him to talk, he gets mean.

He outright says no when he’s asked to keep an eye on Max, because there are no repercussions anymore — his wounds from the “fire” haven’t healed just yet, and if he shows up in the hospital with new bruises over freshly cracked ribs, the doctors will suspect something.

So the most he gets is a glare from Neil and a stern do it or else.

And Billy, a believer of malicious compliance, picks himself up a walkie-talkie. Does whatever the fuck he wants while the thing sits on his dresser.

If any voices come through, he shuts it off, or at the very least tunes it to a channel that only he and Max use.

She knows better than to use it.

Things between them aren’t any less tense than before, but it’s different now. Now he knows.

So the playing field is even.

He doesn’t meddle in Max’s business, who she hangs around, and Max doesn’t burden him with asking for rides and things alike. Not that he could really do much with his car sitting in the junkyard — Harrington has taken over the task of chauffeur anyway.

Harrington, who apparently also picked himself up a walkie-talkie.

And who somehow managed to learn about Billy and Max’s private channel.

“Hargrove? You there?”

The voice is staticky over the radio, but not out of range. After the brief moment of shock passes, Billy rolls his eyes at the thought of Harrington parked down the block, sitting behind the wheel of his Beamer listening intently for a response.

Rather than reach over to his nightstand, Billy rolls over to face the wall.

His sheets have become more of a nest as of late. Gathered around him in piles because he prefers the chill on his skin to sweating beneath scratchy blankets.

He hasn’t changed the bedding in weeks. Hasn’t opened the blinds or really even left his room at all this summer — the pool has likely already filled his position. Not that he’d be going back any sooner than a year or two from now.

If he ever feels comfortable taking his shirt off again.

“Billy? Look, I know you’re there, man. Max said that this was the channel to reach you on, and—“

Billy snatches the walkie-talkie and holds the button down.

“Go fuck yourself. Over.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then static pours through. Likely the air conditioning in Harrington’s car.

“Touchy,” he tuts. Exhales a heavy sigh and blows a raspberry. “Don’t always have to be such a dick, y’know.”

“Being a dick isn’t something all of us have to try at, rich boy, so put your shit in gear and get off my block.”

There’s another brief pause.

“How’d you know I was in your neighborhood?”

“Walkies don’t work out-of-range, fuckhead.”

“Damn, okay,” Harrington huffs. “Sue me for wondering how you were doing.”

Wondering how I’m doing?

“Wondering how I’m doing?” Billy repeats.

He stares up at the ceiling, brows pinched together.

“Yeah? Y’know, like checking up on you?”

“Why?”

For months, Billy has done nothing but rot in his bed. Too sore to move, too short-fused to bother talking about it.

Too guilty to open any of the get-well-soon cards that he’s received.

Among the poorly-addressed ones with crayon scribbles from his former swimming students, he recalls one almost equally as poorly-addressed dawning the signature Steve Harrington at the bottom.

It was the only envelope he’d bothered to open. Practically had to rip it up with his teeth because of the lack of dexterity in his fingers, though, he never worked up the nerve to dial the number scrawled at the bottom.

Harrington scoffs over the channel.

“It’s like you’ve died or something, man. It’s worrying.”

Disregarding the flush spreading across his cheeks, Billy rolls his eyes and spreads out more atop his comforter.

“If you’re so worried, why didn’t you just ask Max?”

“If she answered my questions, do you think I’d be on this channel right now?”

Billy presses his lips into a line.

He knows he hasn’t been the best brother. Quite the opposite, actually.

But it still aches to learn that Max apparently refuses to so much as talk about him. Makes his limbs sink deeper into the mattress like gravity has doubled down on him.

Makes him want to shut his walkie off and never turn it back on.

“Well, you’re a few months too late on your check-up, Harrington,” Billy rasps. He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head at the sound of his own voice coming out so wet and pathetic. “Walking corpse at this point.”

A beat of silence persists. Then the static comes through again.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I have a therapist that already doesn’t help, thank you.”

“Well, if you change your mind…” Harrington trails off. He holds the talk button down for a long beat, absently tapping his fingers against the door panel in his car. Then, he sighs. “Is it okay if I use this channel again?”

Billy’s vision blurs and he sniffles. Thankful that it can’t be heard by anyone but himself.

“Yeah,” he says, and his voice shakes with it.

And that’s how Billy’s radio goes from being dead silent to constantly filling his room with chatter.

It helps and it hinders all at once.

Billy smiles for what feels like the first time in over a year, and laughs, even. But each time Harrington tells a little joke or giggles over the channel, Billy’s heart starts to ache more deeply.

It opens up old wounds.

He feels like Neil knows, somehow, when they’re both in the kitchen together. Accompanied by nothing but silence.

Neil asks if he can babysit for the weekend, and Billy drops the mug that was in his hand with a shaky wrist, fearing an entirely different question that doesn’t even get asked.

When Neil would normally berate him, he simply watches the way that Billy flexes his fingers. The way that he makes a weak fist, unable to straighten his fingers completely once he relaxes them, and his brows pinch in mild worry.

“Still havin’ trouble?” Neil asks.

His voice is gentle enough that Billy’s eyes well with tears as he nods. Bites his lip to keep it from wobbling.

Neil pulls him into a hug and Billy sobs into his shoulder. Not because of the pain or disability, but because he thinks he’s let a hint of love creep back into his life after all this time.

Which should be a good thing.

For once, Billy agrees to watching Max, if only because he doesn’t have the energy to snark back right now. Neil pats his shoulder and gives it a squeeze. Asks if he’s sure, like it’d be no issue at all for him and Susan to cancel their weekend plans.

Billy can’t help that he huffs a laugh. Can’t help that it comes out sounding closer to a scoff.

Why be accommodating now, after a lifetime of neglect and maltreatment? He shakes his head to himself, and his expression must give his thoughts away.

Neil digs his thumb hard into his shoulder, earning a stifled whimper and another influx of tears.

Billy cleans up the broken mug and wipes the liquid away from the floor by himself, knelt on his achy knees while he’s watched like a hawk from the doorway. Like he might shove the glass under the counter if he’s left unsupervised for even a second.

Over the weekend while their folks are away, Billy takes Max out to pick up a couple of movies and get a few snacks with Susan’s car.

Since he so scarcely leaves the house, he turns a few heads when people recognize him.

None so much as Harrington, who gawks at him from behind the fucking desk at Family Video. Billy glares hard at Max when she smirks at him before disappearing to the horror section.

The brunet is a bit more rugged than Billy recalls. Has a stronger jawline and more hair. Lots more hair.

It makes Billy feel especially pathetic, draped in a t-shirt that used to fit his figure well, but now swallows him more than anything.

That heavy feeling droops his shoulders down. He shoves his hands into his pockets and looks away nonchalantly when Harrington abandons his station, leaving Buckley behind the counter floundering at the register.

“Look who’s out ‘n about,” Harrington chuckles. He has no issue reaching out and setting his hands on Billy’s biceps, moving close as if to inspect him. “Have I always been this much taller than you?”

Billy flushes red and straightens his posture. Brings himself back up to eye-level, which spurs a dull pain in his spine. He must not do well in terms of hiding it, because the brunet’s brows furrow.

“Do you wanna sit down?”

Rather than respond right away, Billy huffs and waves Harrington off of him. Shoots Max another glare when he spies her watching the exchange from behind a shelf.

“All I fuckin’ do is sit,” Billy grumbles. “If I knew I was gonna get a pity parade I would’a just sent the shitbird in.”

Harrington nods to himself. Takes half a step back and smiles.

“Alright with standing, then. Got it.” He tilts his head to the side. Eyes never leaving Billy for even a second. “Your hair’s grown out a lot.”

His gaze is a fond one. Like they aren’t in public right now. Like Billy is his damn girlfriend on prom night, and he’s seeing the gown for the first time.

Billy shrugs. Absently toys with one of the curls that dangles over his collar bone.

That weird pit is back in his stomach. The one that leaves him crying in the dark when Harrington signs off after hours of chatting about everything and nothing at once.

Billy wonders where he parks his car when they talk for that long. If he’s right outside or in the deep quiet of the woods, where the stars can really be seen and the train shakes the ground.

He’d rather Steve just climb through his window.

“I like it,” Steve adds. Nudges Billy’s elbow with his own. “It’s a soft look. Fits you really well.”

“Are you this nice to all the girls that come in here, or just the ones you wanna pork?” Billy teases.

Steve laughs, and it sounds so much better in person. Billy wants nothing more than to bottle it up and keep it forever.

Before the brunet can come back with a snide little joke of his own, Max meanders up to them. Holds up a few tapes for Billy to approve. Without really looking them over, he hands her the cash, and they all move back to the register together.

Steve rings them up. Max pays. Everything is so much slower than it should be going, like he’s trying to prolong the encounter as much as he can.

Billy understands the feeling.

When Steve slides Max the receipt, he’s less smiley. Billy turns to face the door, but doesn’t miss the way that Max nabs a pen and scrawls something on the slip of paper before sliding it back towards Steve.

Billy decides not to pry. Fears that if he asks, he’ll find that it’s some secret nerd shit that he can’t be privy to.

Fears that the heavy feeling will bear down on him again.

He doesn’t have to ask, turns out. The phone rings later that night, and Billy’s blood pressure spikes when Steve’s voice pours over the line.

“You should come out more often,” he says easily. “Really need some sun.”

Billy just tsks. They wind up sitting on the line for a little under half an hour. Billy wishes it lasted longer.

But he’d rather not explain the minutes away when his father shows him the phone bill.

Just before they hang up, after giggling at each other nearly the entire time, Billy barks out, “Don’t call here again.”

Then he hangs up.

Steve, naturally, gets on the radio not a few seconds later. Giggles and says, “Okay, dick. You can call me from now on.”

They stay up for practically the rest of the night talking.

Billy stares up at the ceiling and wonders how long this little thing between them will last.

He starts to question it more when Steve actually, by some miracle, convinces him to come out a handful of times.

The brunet is really touchy. Always has an arm around Billy’s shoulders or a hand on his back, and constantly bumps their knees together when they’re sitting down. Billy feels stupid for wanting more.

Why, he doesn’t know, because he’s fairly certain that he could ask for anything at this point.

Steve never calls again and that’s okay.

Billy prefers hearing whispers over the radio anyway.

It’s one evening in particular that Max is out of the house for the night, away at the Chief’s place for a sleepover, that the pit in Billy’s stomach turns into a black hole.

Steve has been ranting about his manager for the last half hour, only stopping to mention how a movie cover reminded him of Billy. How he couldn’t even wait to get home before he turned his radio on and pressed to talk to him.

The black hole consumes Billy before he can catch the words leaving his mouth.

“Do you like me?” he hears himself ask.

His voice gets choked up, and the second he lifts his finger off of the button, he rolls over and screams into his pillow. Quiet enough that Neil and Susan won’t hear, but hard enough to let a fraction of the tension out.

“Obviously,” Steve says. “Why else would I be friends with you?”

Billy presses his face harder into the pillow.

He can feel the pressure building behind his eyes. Feel the blistering heat of fresh tears and the throb in his temples as he huffs a strangled sigh into the pillow. Before he can even decide between turning the walkie off or fabricating a response, static pours through.

“Jesus Christ, Steve, he means do you have feelings for him,” Max groans.

There’s a beat of silence.

“What? Rea—“

“What the fuck are you doing on this channel?” Billy interrupts.

He can feel the veins in his neck straining from how hard he’s clenching his jaw. Can practically see red when giggles pour through the radio.

A red hot flush of shame paints Billy’s face when he realizes that Eleven is listening in too.

“What are you still doing on this channel? If you didn’t want us to eavesdrop, you should’ve switched forever ago.”

“How long have you been listening to us talk?” There’s a beat of silence. Billy huffs. “Max. How long?”

“How long have you and Steve been talking?” Max asks.

Her rhetorical question is accompanied by giggles that are cut off when she lifts her finger from the button.

There’s nothing but silence for a moment. Then two.

Billy’s vision blurs as he sets his walkie down on his nightstand. The cold fingers of embarrassment wrap around him and drag him down, lower than he’s ever been drug before.

He’s ruined everything.

His sister not only hates him, but she knows about him now, and the only guy he’s ever let himself truly like is going to want nothing more to do with him after this.

Not for the first time since Starcourt, he wishes that monster had killed him.

“Billy?” Steve asks gently. When there’s no response, he sighs. “Look, we can figure out the channel thing some other time, but… was she right? Is that what you were trying to ask me?”

Silence. Then, giggles.

“Oh, I’m pretty sure I’m right,” Max teases.

“Radio silence,” Steve snaps. “Now.”

His tone is stern. Brotherly in a way that should be surprising, but isn’t, really.

“Signing off…” Max says dejectedly.

Astonishingly, the channel falls silent. Billy sniffles as he reaches over to paw at his nightstand, curling his fingers weakly around the radio.

He doesn’t press the button. Tries to swallow his silent sobs in a failed attempt to compose himself first.

“Billy?” Steve coos, voice much softer now. “If you don’t wanna talk over the radio, that’s fine, but—“

“Yes,” Billy rasps.

A beat of silence.

“Yes?”

“She was right.”

Billy winces at how broken his voice sounds. A whistle pours through the radio.

“Oh, man,” Steve chuckles, and Billy’s heart sinks. “The boy of my dreams wants to know if I have feelings for him? Are you dense?”

There’s a crisp millisecond of confusion before Billy presses the button.

“What?”

“Of course I like you, dude.”

Billy inhales like he just resurfaced for air for the first time in years.

“Why?” he breathes.

“You’re funny, smart, surprisingly sweet, and pretty easy on the eyes. Just for starters.”

If his heart was thumping fast before, it’s going light-speed now. All he can do for a few beats is focus on controlling his breathing.

“You don’t like me,” he murmurs. “Trust me, Steve, I’m fucked up.”

“You aren’t the only one who’s a little fucked up.” Steve hums a laugh to himself. “And I do like you. You’re not gonna be changing my mind about it anytime soon.”

“What if I told you to go fuck yourself?”

“I’d tell you that you don’t always have to be such a dick.”

A tiny hint of a smile creeps its way onto Billy’s face when he hears Steve chuckle.

His eyes are dry. The pool of dread in his belly has begun to drain, and he feels the slightest bit hopeful.

“If you’re so sure, then I guess picking me up for dinner and a movie sometime won’t be difficult for you, will it?”

Steve sighs fondly at the notion.

“Are you asking me out?”

“Are you accepting?”

There’s a brief pause. Billy’s unable to keep from smiling giddily to himself.

“Depends,” Steve lilts. “Gonna open your window?”

There’s a light tap on the glass. Billy pushes himself up and draws the blinds, revealing a grinning brunet standing about a foot below, holding his walkie-talkie.

Billy tosses his on the bed before he opens the window and leans his elbows against the ledge.

“Is this the part where you ask me to let down my hair?” he teases.

Steve chuckles, but furrows his brows as he steps closer to the house.

“Were you crying?”

Taken aback by the question, Billy wipes his eyes with the heel of his palm. Shrugs nonchalantly, which doesn’t seem to be the answer that Steve was looking for.

“I was expecting things to go a bit differently,” Billy admits.

Steve frowns, and the expression doesn’t look right on him. He reaches up. Settles his hand on Billy’s forearm, smoothing his thumb back and forth against his skin until Billy shifts to dangle his arm out the window.

The pads of Steve’s fingers are soft where he holds Billy’s hand, clasped and suspended in the air together.

Billy really does feel like Rapunzel for a moment.

“I can be a little thick-skulled sometimes,” Steve says softly. “You’re always talking about yourself like you’re some unsalvageable disaster, so when you asked me if I liked you, my mind instantly went there. I wanted to make you sure you knew for certain that I do.”

He gives a little half smile. Billy squeezes his hand gently. Hopes that Steve doesn’t notice how weak his grip is.

“It’s not like I really gave you any context clues.”

“True. You didn’t.”

“I am a bit of a disaster, though. Feels like I’m only good at messing things up sometimes,” Billy sighs. “Max already hates me, and when I thought for a second that you might too, everything felt so lost.”

Steve makes a face.

“I would never, and I’d like to point out that Max doesn’t either.”

Billy blinks. Huffs amusedly, and as always, it comes out sounding closer to a scoff.

“Pretty sure she does. You’ve said yourself that she wouldn’t even talk when you asked about me.”

After thinking on it for a brief moment, Steve laughs.

“Yeah, man, ‘cause she bites the head off of anyone who asks about you. Definitely told me to mind my fucking business more than once.”

Again, Billy just blinks.

He never considered that maybe it was a protective thing and not a shame thing. The revelation has a surprising amount of weight lifting off of his shoulders.

“Definitely sounds like her,” he says.

They share a chuckle. Billy flattens his other forearm against the windowsill and rests his chin against it.

“Thanks for trying to lift me up earlier?” he muses. “Didn’t really work in the moment, but still.”

Steve softly swings their hands from side to side and sighs.

“I can tell. Your eyes are all puffy.”

“Should’a seen me the other night.”

The brunet cocks his head to the side in mild confusion.

“What happened the other night?” he asks. “Didn’t mention anything while we were talking.”

“It was, ah… after we signed off for the night. It’s no big deal, really. I cry after most of our talks.”

Billy looks away. Steve squeezes his hand.

“I’m sorry.”

“‘S okay,” Billy rasps.

His eyes prick with tears again and Steve steps closer. Drops his walkie-talkie in the grass and reaches up with his free hand to cup Billy’s cheek.

“Oh, you’re just a big crybaby, huh?” he coos. Billy chuckles sadly and leans into his touch. “If I’d known, I would’ve snuck over here sooner.”

“My old man checks in on me sometimes, so it’s probably better that you stay in your car.”

“Well, do you have a curfew? I’d love to steal you away every now and again and kiss your cute, stuffy nose.”

Billy sniffles, and chuckles again. Wipes his eyes with his free hand and shrugs.

“Haven’t really had anywhere to go ‘till now,” he says.

Steve nods.

“You eaten yet?”

A smile cracks across Billy’s face. Steve mirrors the expression.

“You buying?”

“I’ll spend my entire paycheck on burgers and fries if it gets you outta this fuckin’ room. I swear sometimes it’s like pulling teeth.”

They share a chuckle, and Billy sits up. Flushes red when Steve presses a kiss to his knuckles.

“Gimme a sec.”

Again, Steve nods. He’s slow to release the blond when he pulls away, and Billy can’t help that he’s grinning like an idiot as he opens the door and pads out of his room.

He finds Neil and Susan in the living room watching tv. Makes up some lie about a few friends having a kickback. Even goes as far as to apologize for the short notice.

His folks share a look. Susan spreads a big smile and sets her hand on Billy’s bicep.

“No worries, sweetheart. Go ahead,” she says. “Have fun, alright?”

“Will you be coming back tonight?” Neil asks.

Billy stays quiet for a moment. Then two, just processing, and eventually shakes his head.

“It’ll probably be too late,” he says, and clears his throat. “I have somewhere else lined up, though.”

He winces at his own words, regret beading on his skin like a cold sheen of sweat.

Neil nods. Turns his attention back to the tv.

“Just stay outta trouble.”

And that’s it.

Nothing more is said, but Billy still stands there like he’s waiting for something else to happen.

When nothing does, he nods curtly and pads back down the hallway to his room, deciding not to press his luck by letting them think too hard on it. Once he has the door shut behind him, he’s immediately leaning out the window again.

Steve has his walkie back in his hands, rocking back and forth patiently on the balls of his feet while he waits. He smiles when he notices that the blond has reappeared.

“What’d they say?”

“Go get your car, I’ll be ready by the time you pull up.”

Billy leans back. Grabs the window and shuts it just as Steve nods enthusiastically. Turns on his heel and jogs off of the lawn and back towards the street.

Giddy, warm feelings pool and buzz in Billy’s stomach as he digs through his drawers for jeans that he hasn’t worn in forever. Already has a date-worthy outfit in mind as he unfolds a pair.

He nearly jumps out of his skin when static pours through the radio still sitting idly on his bed.

“Update?” Max asks.

Billy rolls his eyes. Moves to grab it when another voice comes through.

“We’re goin’ steady,” Steve informs, out of breath.

“Yes!” Max shouts.

Then, a third voice comes through.

“Finally! Jesus,” Dustin huffs.

There’s a beat of silence, followed by Steve panting when he presses the talk button.

“How many of you dickheads are on this channel?”

“Just two?” Mike says. “Technically, since we’re only using two walkie’s.”

There’s laughter over the radio, and Billy rolls his eyes. Can’t really find it in himself to be mad right now with all of the butterflies swirling in his tummy.

“You’re all banned from the front seat of my car,” Steve huffs. “And the wedding, when it happens.”

“No! I wanted to be the flower girl!” Eleven whines.

“I was gonna walk you down the aisle,” Dustin adds.

“Good luck finding another officiant, then, I guess,” Lucas says with a scoff.

More laughter is had. Max and Mike chime in with various jokes about ring-bearers and bridesmaids, but they’re cut off when Steve presses to talk again.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I highly recommend switching channels.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” Max muses.

Billy can practically hear the smirk in Steve’s voice when he speaks next.

“‘Cause I’m gonna start using this one for sex stuff, and it’s gonna get real weird real fast, so be warned.”

Multiple groans and sounds of disgust pour through the radio.

“Yuck,” Max says. “Switching channels.”

“Ditto,” Dustin adds.

Then silence. True silence.

Billy grabs his walkie.

“We really gonna have phone sex over the radio?” he muses.

Steve laughs. The subtle rumble of the engine is audible from the street as his car pulls up to the curb.

“Not if you hurry up and get your ass out here already.”

The blond bites his lip. Can’t believe for the life of him how light he feels. How, for once, he feels better for having survived car wrecks and slimy monsters in the dark.

Feels like letting someone new into his life won’t cause him grief this time around.

“On my way, pretty boy.”

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #max mayfield #billy & max #the party stranger things #disabled billy hargrove #fluff and angst #tw abuse #internalized homophobia #it’s important to me that Neil is shown being more than a two dimensional mma fighter when it comes to his relationship w Billy #so I wrote him a little differently based on my own personal experiences with abusive parents #also mainly wrote this to show that Billy deserves love and compassion even if he doesn’t start making steps towards bettering himself #because healing begins with support!!#ficlet #my writing #unedited #billy antis dni

207 notes · View notes

starkstruck27 · 6 months ago

Text

Day 7 of @harringrove-flip-reverse-it!! I can't believe after today, the event I spent months preparing for is already gonna be over. I'm so glad I took part and I'm so glad for the positive feedback here, on Ao3, and just in general. I hope this final entry is as well received as the others, even though it is the saddest. It's also the longest, and it's my favorite of all of them. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do. Prompt: Angst - Love Letters Title: A Memory Gilded in Red and Gold Word Count: 14098 words TWs: Major character death, Child abuse, Survivor's guilt

It was July 8th, 1985. Four days after the shit hit the fan at Starcourt mall. And only two days after Billy Hargrove’s funeral.

His dad had skipped town before his casket was even fully in the ground, taking most of his and Susan’s joint bank account with him, and leaving her and Max with practically nothing. They couldn’t afford to stay in their house anymore, and they couldn’t afford the trip back to California either, so their only option was to move into the trailer park by the end of the month and try to pick up the pieces and move on. Susan was pretty much nothing but a shell lately, the shock of losing her stepson and husband in a matter of days was really taking its toll. And Max wasn’t faring much better. She was even more quiet than usual, but trying to pretend that she was okay, and it wasn’t a very convincing act. Especially when she almost broke into tears as El told her they were moving away, too. She must’ve felt like anyone who meant anything to her was leaving her all at once, which is why Steve, Robin and the boys didn’t need to be asked twice to help them pack up the stuff on Cherry Lane before the move.

They were making good progress for the first day, packing up the things they could in the living room and getting rid of whatever Susan and Max said they no longer wanted. The house wasn’t big, so after a day, they had everything in the living room, kitchen, bathroom and Susan’s bedroom packed up and ready to go. The second day, though, was going to be the hard part.

Max couldn’t even look in the direction of Billy’s room, much less step into it, and Susan had to go to a job interview that day, so Steve had come up with a plan. Robin would help Max pack up her clothes and do her best to cheer her up, and the boys would take shifts with her so that she didn’t feel as lonely. Steve was in charge of most of the stuff in Billy’s room, as well as providing pizza for lunch and promising a trip to the arcade later on to reward them for a hard day’s work. It was all going well, and they were just about halfway done with both rooms when Dustin came to Steve, complaining that his headset got caught on something under Billy’s bed and he couldn’t get it out.

“What were you doing under the bed?” Steve asked, rolling his eyes.

“I was looking to see if there was anything under it that we would need to pack up, duh! There was nothing but exposed springs and dust bunnies, though, and my headset got caught on something, but now I can’t get it!” Dustin explained, pulling Steve further into the room and over to the bed.

“Alright, alright, just give me a flashlight and I’ll have it out in a jiff,” Steve said, and once said flashlight was in his hand, he got down on the floor and started crawling under the bed. He shimmied his way in and finally found Dustin’s headset caught on one of the exposed springs of the old mattress. He managed to get it free after pulling on the spring, and was about to wiggle his way back out when something else caught his eye in the dull beam of the flashlight. There was a rip in the lining of the mattress, and hanging out of it was an envelope, fat with papers. Curious, Steve grabbed it, and when he pulled it out of the lining, he was surprised to see his own name written on it.

“Pizza’s here!” Robin called from the living room, startling Steve and making him hit his head as he finally came back to reality and continued to squirm his way out from under the bed. He took the envelope with him and quickly tucked it into his jacket so he could check it out later.

“What’s that?” Dustin asked as he came back out, pointing to Steve’s jacket.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it. Go eat your pizza, we still have a lot of work to do before we’re done, so you need to keep that energy up,” Steve said, and followed him to the living room so they could get something to eat.

After lunch, it only took them another hour or two to get everything out of the last two rooms, except for the big furniture, which Mr. Sinclair and a couple of his work friends offered to come help with the following day. They took the donation boxes to Steve’s car and then everyone piled into it, too, Steve and Robin taking the kids to the arcade, promising they’d meet up with them after dropping off the boxes at the Goodwill. Everybody had pretended not to see it when Max snuck a few little trinkets out of the boxes of Billy’s stuff, and nobody mentioned it as she stuck them in her backpack. It almost made Steve feel bad for donating the stuff, but it wasn’t his decision, so after he dropped the kids off at the arcade, he and Robin continued on to the donation entrance of the Goodwill. They gave it all to the guy who was responsible for donations, and then they went back to the arcade, standing and watching as the kids played games and tried their best to cheer Max up. At one point, they even conned Steve into getting them slushies from the snack bar, so he and Robin hopped in the line and waited as the kids continued to play.

“Okay, seriously, what’s going on with you?” Robin asked as they waited, “You’ve seemed kind of lost in thought since lunchtime and you keep checking your jacket, what’s the deal?”

“It’s nothing, really,” Steve said, shaking his head.

“Yes it is. I know you by now, Steve, and c’mon, we said we wouldn’t keep secrets from each other anymore, so spill,” Robin insisted, crossing her arms.

“Okay, fine, you’re right, but just wait until we get our slushies and then I’ll tell you, okay? C’mon, we’re next,” Steve said, taking a step forward and starting to rattle off their order to the guy behind the counter. Five minutes and six slushies later, and he and Robin were off in an empty corner of the arcade, and Steve took the envelope out of his pocket, showing it to her.

“I went under Billy’s bed to get Dustin’s headset earlier, and when I was coming back out, I found this sticking out of the lining,” he said, handing her the envelope.

“What do you think is in it?” She asked, turning it over and examining it.

“I don’t know. I don’t even know if I want to. I feel kinda weird for taking it. Like, on the one hand, it has my name on it, and I don’t know any other Steve Harringtons, so it’s obviously meant for me. But on the other hand, why didn’t he just give it to me, unless he didn’t want me to have it?”

“Maybe he was going to, but he never got the chance,” Robin shrugged, taking a sip of her slushy.

“Maybe, but also, why was it under his bed, hidden in his mattress lining? That’s a weird place to put an envelope you’re planning on sending,” Steve said.

“Well, Max told us about how his dad was always looking through his stuff. Maybe that was the only place he could hide it that he wouldn’t find it until he could give it to you.”

“I don’t know,” Steve sighed, “I don’t know if I should open it or if I should just toss it. I’ve been going back and forth on it all day.”

“I don’t think you should toss it, but you also don’t have to open it right away. Keep it until you’re ready and then open it and see what’s inside,” Robin said, shrugging and handing the envelope back. “What can it hurt, y’know?”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Steve agreed, putting the envelope back inside his jacket.

“And as soon as you do open it, call me and tell me what’s inside, because if you don't, the curiosity is gonna kill me!” Robin said, and despite the questionable choice of words, Steve promised he would.

It ended up being that night that he opened it, just a little after midnight. He had tried to just go to sleep after getting home that night, but after a few hours of tossing and turning and wondering what was in that envelope, he finally cracked and decided to open it up and find out.

Inside was a bunch of folded up papers, and as Steve unfolded and examined each one of them, he found that they were letters, all written in the same red pen. Each one was dated, so he arranged them in order on his bed and looked them over. There were nine in total, and Steve was unsure if he really wanted to start reading them or not, but after a few minutes of deliberation, the curiosity finally got the better of him, and he picked up the first one.

October 31st / November 1st, 1984

Dear Steve,

I don’t know why the fuck I’m writing this. It’s Halloween, or, well, technically it’s not, but whatever, that’s a technicality. Either way, it’s some time after Tina’s party, and instead of going out and getting laid, I’m sitting here and writing this. I think I’m kinda drunk, although I shouldn’t be, I hardly had anything to drink tonight, including at the keg stand. Beating your record was easy, it was nothing compared to the record I held out in California. You small town hicks can’t drink for shit. So if I’m drunk, I don’t know how I got there.

Anyway, back to what I was planning on writing. I don’t understand you. I mean, I heard so much about you in the halls at school and from Tommy, but I must’ve walked past you a hundred times and I never would’ve known it. It wasn’t until Tommy pointed you out at the party tonight that I really noticed you. And I guess some of what I’ve been told is true, but I don’t believe all of it. For instance, I was told about your “unbeatable” keg record. Hah.

Still, I guess some things were true. You’re annoying, for one. Seriously, Tommy announces you’ve been dethroned and you just walk away? You could’ve had at least a little bit of a reaction, tried to insult me or something, but you didn’t, and I think that was very rude of you. Not that I care about being the new “king” of the school, but still.

Another thing is you seem popular with the ladies. When your girl stormed out on you tonight, I saw at least three other girls follow you out the door, trying to catch up, they all wanted a piece of you. Not that I blame them, you’re pretty good looking and you do have great hair. I’d want to date you if I was a girl. Or maybe I wouldn’t. I don’t know. Like I said, I’m kinda drunk.

Anyway, I guess I say all this to say, you’re not exactly what I expected of you from all the stories I’ve heard. You’re quite the enigma, Steve Harrington, you make me curious. I want to know more about you. What’s your middle name? Do you like pineapple on pizza? What’s your favorite Cheech and Chong movie? Personally, I like ‘Up in Smoke’. Seriously, ‘Earache my Eye’? That’s the story of my life, man. How they came up with that song, I’ll never know but it’s hilarious.

Anyway, I’m tired, and I’ve got to drive Max around tomorrow, so I better try and curb this hangover while I can. Goodnight, I guess.

-Billy

P.S. I just realized you don’t know who Max is, but she’s my annoying little stepsister, so there you go.

Steve didn’t know what he expected from these letters, but that was certainly the last thing he’d thought he’d find. He had no idea Billy had thought about him like that from the beginning. He seemed almost friendly in that letter, like they could’ve ended up friends if either of them had given it half a chance. Which only made him wonder, why didn’t they? It could’ve been completely different, things could have played out so much better, but they didn’t, and it only made him more curious as to why as he picked up the next letter, trying to find some answers.

December 22nd, 1984

Dear Steve,

Once again, I don’t know why I’m writing this. I’m not drunk this time, but I might as well be. I’m not an alcoholic, I swear, but sometimes things in life are just easier to take when you’re drunk. That beating I gave your face a month ago, for example, that might not have hurt as much as I assume it did if you had been drunk. And this fucking holiday coming up, I swear, if my dad and Max weren’t watching me like hawks, I’d be blitzed through until New Year’s. But life sucks, so I guess I have to just fucking deal with it.

Oh, and speaking of beating you up, I’m sorry about that. I saw you driving that kid to the stupid dance at the middle school when I was dropping Max off earlier tonight, and I wanted to get out and say it to you in person, but I chickened out. She made me promise not to mess with any of you anymore, and that combined with the fact that you’d probably tell me to go fuck myself and we’d just end up fighting again anyway made me drive off without saying anything.

But I did want to apologize. I had no right to hurt you like that. It really wasn’t you I was mad at, it was mostly my dad. He put me in charge of Max, but she snuck out and maybe I should’ve realized that, but I never signed up to be her babysitter. It was just kinda thrust on me when our parents got married, and only after we moved here. I guess they wanted to keep both of us in line, and keeping us accountable for the other was their way of doing it, but I was the only one that ever got in trouble if either of us did something wrong, so it was a rigged system anyway. And when they got home that night and found her missing, of course it was my job to go find her. This was after my dad shoved me up against a wall and slapped me across the face for “losing” her. So you can see my frustration. Still, I shouldn’t have taken it out on you, I was wrong for that, but I couldn’t hit my dad back, so when you hit me, I just snapped. And yeah, I started it by pushing you, but I knew there would be more to come if I didn’t get Max home, so I just wanted to get her and go, and you were in the way.

Anyway, I’m sorry about all of that. Maybe one of these days, I’ll get the courage to say that to your face, but I doubt it. Max would have my balls in a blender if I even tried to get close enough to talk to you, and I’m sure I’m the last person you want to hear from, anyway.

But anyway, back to what I was saying. I wish I was drunk right now. I hate Christmas. I hate pretending to be a happy family so that Susan can send out Christmas cards to all her friends (Susan is my stepmom, by the way). I hate watching Max open gift after gift on Christmas morning while I get a pack of socks, a stick of deodorant, and maybe a new book, if I’m lucky. Mostly I just get ignored while she gets doted on. And it’s not like I’m jealous that she gets presents or anything, I’m just pissed that I have to pretend to care and act like I’m not hurt that they didn’t care enough about me to get anything. And most of all, I hate all the reminders that Christmas is a time to be spent with family. I don’t have one of those anymore, not since I was ten.

I mean, I still have my dad, and Susan, and Max. But they don’t exactly count. Dad is an asshole, but he’s the only one who stayed with me after everything. Susan doesn’t look at me, she turns a blind eye to everything, but I guess that’s the only way she can cope with being married to a tyrant. And Max, well, you know Max. She’s stubborn, got a real mouth on her, and she acts like the rules don’t apply to her. I know a lot of people have dead families or their families are a lot worse than mine, but still, there are a lot of people who have a lot better, and it makes me wonder, how did they manage to get that lucky? It just doesn’t seem fair.

And even through all this, the holiday might still be bearable, if I could just see my mom again. She’s the reason I lost my family when I was ten. She left that year, she couldn’t handle my dad anymore, and I always wondered why she never took me with her. She was my best friend, she took care of me. She read me bedtime stories and embroidered flowers on my clothes. She called me ‘mi pequeño amor’, which means ‘my little love’ in Spanish. There was no doubt in my mind that she loved me, so why, when she couldn’t stand living with my dad anymore, did she leave me behind?

Sorry, I didn’t mean to just dump all that out on you. Although, I don’t know whether I’ll ever give you this letter or not, so I guess I don’t need to apologize. I mean, I want to, but I never gave you the last one, either, and if I ever do, you’ll probably think I’m insane or something, so I probably won't. Either way, it doesn’t really matter. Merry Christmas, Steve.

-Billy

After reading the second letter, Steve practically dove for the third one, needing more information and needing it now. He had no idea so much was going on in Billy’s life. He suddenly felt like a world-class jerk for ever thinking anything bad about Billy, when he really had no clue what was going on behind closed doors. He had to know how things played out the way they did, and he had seven more letters waiting to explain it to him.

January 4th, 1985

Dear Steve,

Happy New Year. I know that was a few days ago, but today was our first day back at school, and I didn’t get to tell you in person, so here you go. I also still haven’t apologized, and I feel like a dick for this, but I don’t think I ever will. I mean, you seem pretty set on avoiding me as much as you can, and I guess I don’t blame you. I’d avoid me too, given our past encounters. But as much as I get it, I also kind of hate it. I still want to know more about you, but there’s only so much I can learn by watching you from afar. Wow, that sounded creepy, but I swear, it’s not. I’m a people-watcher by nature, so that’s where this is stemming from.

Anyway, I did learn a few things. For one, you’re a sweater guy. I saw you around town a few times during the break, and every single time, you were in a soft, expensive looking sweater. Two, you have a freakishly close friendship with that kid, Henderson. Don’t get me wrong, he seems like an okay kid, better than Max at least, but frankly, I don’t understand it. But if it makes you happy, I guess that’s good. Better one weird friend than a hundred fake ones, right? And finally, three, (and I could be way off on this one, but) you seem kinda lonely. I mean, other than Henderson. But if ever he’s off with Max and their other little friends, you always look a little lost. You look like that in the hallway, too. I know it’s not how you always look, because when you were with that Wheeler chick, you never looked like this. And as soon as you broke up for good, that’s when it started. I’m sorry you’re lonely, I know how that feels.

I wish there was something I could do about it. I could lie and say that I don’t know why I wish I could change it for you, but since I’ve already decided I’m probably never going to give you these letters I write, I might as well just come out with it. Hah, see, I made a joke. I hope you understand what I’m getting at, but if you don’t get it yet, I’m rambling to try and brush over the fact that I have a thing for you. Yep, cat’s out of the bag now.

I could also lie again and say I don’t know when it started, but I think I can pinpoint the exact moment that I started thinking of you like this. It was the first time I saw you, at Tina’s party. I didn’t know who you were, exactly, until Tommy said it, and then I think I started trying to hate you just because of who you were, but I just couldn’t. I knew I liked you and I knew I would do something stupid about it, like maybe giving you one of these letters, if I didn’t make you hate me first. It was like reverse psychology or something, make you hate me so that I’d hate you back and then I wouldn’t ever do anything about my crush on you. Maybe that’s stupid, but hey, it worked, kind of.

But anyway, earlier today, as we were walking down the halls, I felt really sorry for you. Jeez that sounds terrible, but I just mean that it made me sad that you were so lonely. I don’t want you to be lonely. If I could, I’d be by your side always, just so that you’d know someone was there. I’d be your best friend and do everything I could to make you smile instead of sulk all day. But I guess it’s too late now. I showed you my mean streak, and now you don’t want anything to do with me. God, I’d do absolutely fucking anything to change that.

Yours, Billy

The third letter hit Steve like a train. He could feel tears forming in his eyes as he read it, and now that he was done, they had started falling. How could he have not noticed Billy had a crush on him? Why didn’t he try to rectify their relationship after the fight himself? Maybe then they’d have ended up friends and things would’ve been different. He wouldn’t have been lonely, and then Billy wouldn’t have had to notice it, and everything might’ve changed. He didn’t know, and he never would. He picked up the next letter.

February 10th, 1985

Dear Steve,

I wanna set the record straight. I don’t hate Max. I really don’t. From what I’ve heard from people who have real siblings, she’s pretty much the standard. They’re hard-headed, stubborn, a bit of a bitch, but when it comes down to it, they stick by your side. That’s pretty much how she acts with me, although, maybe it’s different with stepsiblings, because sometimes it’s different. When my dad is beating on me, for example, she never jumps in and tries to defend me, or says it’s her fault, even if it is. Granted, I don’t think I’d want to get into that situation, either, but still. And as for today, when you saw us arguing in the car and gave me that look, that was something else entirely.

See, she was asking me what I’d get for someone I cared about for a valentine’s gift. She was hell-bent and determined to get something for the Sinclair kid, but she didn’t want to just do a card, she actually wanted to get him something. And I told her not to get anything. For one, she’s the girl, and as much as I’m all for equality and all that, I still think that it’d be better if she was the one getting the gift. Her mom is kinda old-fashioned, thinks that girls should all still wear dresses and be demure, polite little shells, even though that mentality was left behind in the sixties.

And the other thing is, if Max came home with a valentine’s gift for someone, one of our parents would inevitably ask who it was for, and Max doesn’t know better than to tell them the truth. It’s the main reason I tried to scare Sinclair away from her, because if he steps one foot onto our property and asks for Max, he’s done for, and so am I. Apparently, both of our parents are stuck in the 1950s, when women were “proper” and when black people could be killed for so much as looking at a white person. And, of course, if Sinclair did end up getting her a valentine or vice versa, Max wouldn’t see the problem with saying so when we got home, and guess who would end up with a beating for “not protecting” her from him?

So, I know I haven’t been the nicest to Max, or to Lucas, but you can understand why, right? I don’t take pleasure in scaring off kids, and I don’t enjoy playing the bully to either of them. But I also don’t enjoy people getting hurt for the hell of it, which is what would happen if I didn’t try to keep them apart. And I’ve tried explaining it to Max a few times before, but she’s still living in Wonderland where everything is nice and her stepdad wouldn’t kill her boyfriend just for talking to her. So I’m doing what I can to keep all of us safe, no matter how unpleasant it may seem.

Truth be told, it upsets me just as much as it does them. I think Lucas could be really good for Max, and I think it’s great that she has friends like him and the rest of their crew. They might be annoying and a pain in the neck, but I think they work together because of that. And Max deserves some good friends. She didn’t ask to be in this situation anymore than I did, but we’re both here, and I just wish she would understand it a bit more to make it easier on both of us. And I know I said I didn't consider her family a couple letters ago, but really, the way things are now, she's the closest thing I've got, and I guess I kinda love her for that, no matter how it might seem to anyone else. I guess we just show our affection in different ways.

Anyway, I gotta go now, I gotta talk her out of buying Sinclair a new radio so they can keep in better contact.

Yours, Billy

P.S. Fuck it, change that “Yours” to a “Love”. It is almost V-day, after all.

This was starting to become a bit much for Steve. He didn’t know how to take all this new information about Billy. He’d spent so much time hating him, judging him, dismissing him, that he never even thought to look below the surface and try to understand if there was more to the story. He never thought that to protect someone, you might have to be a little mean to them, but now, he supposed a lot of things made sense in a way that they didn’t before. And suddenly, he found himself wanting to learn everything he could about Billy Hargrove.

March 31st / April 1st, 1985

Dear Steve,

It’s currently 11:58 at night when I’m writing this, and the clock is about to change again. So, fun fact about me, I guess, did you know that I was supposed to be born on April 1st? At least, that’s what the baby book my mom made for me said. My dad threw it out years ago, but I remember that part of it. I was supposed to be born on April 1st, 1967, but that’s not my birthday. It was actually a few days ago, March 29th, and I turned 18, finally. I came out early, I guess I didn’t want to be seen as a joke for the rest of my life. Hah.

I still feel like a joke, though. Maybe the due date was more fitting than I realized. I guess it’s hard not to feel like your whole life is a joke when life is constantly making you the punchline. Literally.

See, around my birthday every year, my dad gets more pissy than normal. He’s always in a bad mood, that’s just his default state, but when the reminder that I’m alive comes around, he always ends up even more upset than normal. But this year was different. My birthday was on a Friday this year, and Susan decided to buy me a cake. It’s the first time she’s ever done that for my birthday. Max gets one every year, but this was the first time she got one for me. She went to Melvald’s and had them put my name on it in icing and everything. She even got it in my favorite color, blue. She said it was a milestone birthday for me, so she wanted to make it special. She put it in the fridge and said we’d have it after dinner.

But then my dad came home. He took a nap in his chair first, and then Susan woke him up for dinner. We had chicken, like we do almost every night. Dad can’t eat a lot of red meat or seafood because he has gout, and the beer doesn’t help either, so he gave up one vice for another, and it’s been chicken ever since. I'm so damn tired of chicken. But Susan tried to make it special, she added all kinds of spices and served it with noodles and a special sauce, and it was actually pretty good. But dad didn’t like it. He said there was too much going on and it made it disgusting. He likes his food bland, but Max and I liked it. We’ll never eat it again.

Anyway, after we finished, Susan got out the cake, and she put it on the table before going to get a knife. I’m really glad she waited and didn’t just bring it all out at once, because before she even got halfway back to the kitchen, Dad stopped her in her tracks. He asked what the hell the cake was for, and she must’ve been scared to death, because she couldn’t even stutter out a lie, and then my dad turned on me and asked why in the fuck I’d ask for a cake when I didn’t deserve it and I knew they didn’t have any money to spend on one. He said I was an ingrate and that I was spoiled, and then he took the cake and threw it on the ground, and it was ruined. You can see why I was glad he didn't have access to a sharp object right then, right? Then he told Susan to come with him, they had to have a talk, and then he told me that the floor better be cleaned up by the time he gets back. Then, he had the gall to apologize to Max for having to see that, and then he and Susan disappeared back into their bedroom.

I cleaned up the cake and Max helped me, although neither of us said a word to each other as we did. She just took the plastic and as much of the cake as she could and threw it out, then handed me some paper towels and I finished cleaning up the floor. I didn’t even thank her for her help, I just told her to go to her room when it was done because she didn’t want to be there when dad came back out. And I’m glad that she listened for once, because I was right.

Susan stayed in their room and Dad came back out then, and the first thing he did was go to the fridge and get another beer. He was kind of limping, so his gout must’ve been having a flare up and that made him even more miserable than usual, so I knew nothing good was to come. He opened his beer and drank at least half of it, and then he set it down and he came for me.

See, here’s the thing about my dad. He doesn’t care about anyone but himself. If he’s upset, he’s gotta make everyone else upset. If he’s in pain, he’s gotta make someone else hurt, too. And that someone else is usually me. I don’t know why he’s like this. And it kinda fucks me up to think about it, because I should love him. He was the only one who stayed with me my whole life. He’s half the reason I exist in the first place. He fed me and put clothes on my back and always made sure we had a roof over our heads, and I should be grateful. But he also drove my mom away, and he likes to beat on me, and he blames everything that goes wrong in his life on me. And I want to love him, I want to be happy to say that he’s my dad and that he always took great care of me, but it’s just not true, and I hate it.

Anyway, when he was half done with his beer, he came at me. He grabbed me by the collar and marched me to my room, and he slapped me around a bit and asked again why I thought it was okay to ask for a cake even though I knew we were struggling with money. I said I didn’t ask for one, Susan surprised me with it, but he didn’t believe me. He told me not to talk back to him and lie on top of it, and I wanted to say more, but he never gave me a chance. It would’ve only made things worse, anyway. So he keeps hitting me and lecturing me about how I’m an adult now and I need to be responsible for myself. It’s been the same lecture since I was ten. Respect and responsibility. Over and over he’s drilled it into my head, and over and over he says I haven’t learned my lesson and that’s why he does what he does.

Anyway, to make a long story short, I ended up with a black eye and was locked in my room for the rest of the weekend. Apparently, I also have to start paying rent now that I’m 18, so I have to start looking for jobs tomorrow. And he said that since I think we have money to burn on extravagant food, I wasn’t going to be allowed to eat until the weekend was over. Max snuck me a turkey sandwich yesterday night and I keep emergency food in here just for this reason, but it still fucking sucked.

I wanted to write this sooner, but I was so angry I could hardly think, so I waited. I didn’t know if I should write anything at all, because I’ve never told anyone about what goes on at home before, but I had nothing else to do in here, so I finally just did it. Besides, I wanted to tell somebody, even if I know it’s just myself.

So, I guess I’ll sign off here. I have to try and get to bed now anyway, since we have school tomorrow. That’s the best birthday present I’ve gotten this year, the fact that I get to leave the house again and even though I know we won’t talk to each other, I’ll get to see you. I’ve missed you.

Love, Billy

There were only four letters left, and even though he was going to push through, it was getting hard for Steve to read them. The last one had left him crying like a baby, so much so that his eyes were blurred and he had to hold the paper away from his face to keep from smudging the ink. He felt like with every new thing he learned about Billy, more questions were brought to the surface, and he wasn’t liking the way any of them were answered. But he had come this far, and there were only four left, so he kept on.

May 17th, 1985

Dear Steve,

Today was actually a pretty good day. I wasn’t planning on writing anything, but I just realized that when I write you these letters, I only end up telling you the bad things going on in my life, and even though I’ve been able to learn a lot about you, you haven’t learned much about me. I mean, you know what my favorite color is and which is my favorite Cheech and Chong movie, but other than that, you don’t know much, so here we go.

First off, as of today, I now work at the community pool. I went down and got an application, and after meeting the manager, I got a job as a lifeguard. I have to renew my CPR certification at the YMCA before I can start, but I can get that done easily and be all ready to go when the pool opens on Memorial Day. I’m really excited about it, I haven’t been in a pool since before the move, and it’s not quite as good as the ocean, but it’s the next best thing. And now I can start making more money to pay my dad and to save up and get my own place, maybe. It’s gonna take a while, but that’s the goal.

And the pool job is only gonna be temporary. Are you planning on going to college after graduation? I don’t think I’m going to. It’s a waste of money, I don’t need a fancy piece of paper telling me I sat through classes of things I already knew, so no college for me. I’m gonna go right into the workforce as soon as I graduate. I know a little bit about cars, at least enough to build my own basically from scratch, so I’m gonna try and get a job at a mechanic shop and work my way up the ranks and just learn on the job. I think that’s the best thing for me.

Oh, and speaking of graduation, I don’t know if I’m even gonna go to ours. I’ll still get the diploma in the mail, and I’d rather not spend a week practicing standing and sitting on cue just to have no one show up to clap when I walk the stage. It’s pointless. Although, I’d get to sit next to you and neither of us would have a choice in the matter, and it might be the last chance I get to be that close to you. Not in a creepy way, either. I just mean we would see each other way less often and I want to get my fill of you before that happens. I don’t know, maybe I’ll go, I’ve still got time to decide.

By the way, I had a dream about you the other night. It wasn’t dirty or anything, although I wouldn’t have minded that, but that’s not what it was. Basically, I was in this aquarium, walking down a hallway into this room. It was the coolest room ever, all four walls were part of just one big tank and so was the ceiling, so that it felt like you were inside the tank, and it was all filled with jellyfish. Most of them were bioluminescent, so there was very little light in the room, other than the light emitted from the jellyfish, and it was just beautiful. They were all different colors and sizes, and it was so pretty. And as I walked into the room, I saw you standing there, just watching the jellyfish float around with a content look on your face, and when I walked up to you, you smiled. I went up and all I said was hi, and you said it back, but you called me ‘babe’. Then you kissed me, and it only lasted a second, then you turned back and kept watching the fish. And I could actually feel my heart beating in my sleep, and I kept glancing over at you until finally you smiled and laughed and said ‘okay, okay, I can take a hint’, and you went back to watching the fish, but then you grabbed my hand and held it, and we just stood there together until I woke up. It only felt like a minute or two, but it had to have been hours, because when I woke up, I realized I had slept through my alarm and was almost late to school. I’m really gonna miss you once school is over, Steve.

Anyway, what else can I tell you about me? I guess I told you a couple things already. I like to swim, and I like working on cars. But I said I was gonna tell you more, so here we go.

First of all, I like to read. I know, I don’t really seem like a reader, do I? But there’s something safe about books, you can hide in their worlds when your own becomes too much. My current favorite is one I found a few years ago in a little shop in California, it’s called “Annie on my Mind”. I can’t remember the author’s name, but it’s a fantastic book. It’s about two girls named Annie and Liza who meet in a museum in New York City and become best friends, and after a while, they fall in love. It’s not easy, and they break up when Liza goes off to school and has to leave Annie behind, but just before it ends, they call each other and end up getting back together. It’s a sappy rom-com, but it’s so beautiful, and reading it three years ago at 15, it gave me hope for my own future. Maybe one day I’d find my own Annie. I like to think that if I ever got the courage to go for it, maybe you could be my Annie. You fit the description to a T.

But enough of the mushy stuff now. Seriously, mushrooms are gross, I hate them. That’s another thing about me, I guess. I’m not picky with my food, not really, but if there’s one thing I just can’t stomach, it’s mushrooms. Not even on pizza, and everything tastes good on pizza.

Anyway, the next thing I’ll tell you is my favorite band, at least right now. It changes a lot, but as of right now, it’s Van Halen. They’re great. Something about them, I don’t know, they just make me happy. They’re just silly, I guess. The singer, David Lee Roth, sometimes he’ll just start monologuing randomly in the middle of a song, and if you ever see pictures of them in magazines or something, the guitarist, Eddie Van Halen, he’s just always smiling. They’re great, and I love them. I hope I can get a chance to see them in concert someday.

Anyway, I’m running out of ideas of things to tell you. There’s not a whole lot of room for individuality in my life, especially with my dad constantly going through my stuff to try and find either money or another reason to rag on me, but I’ve got two more things.

One, I think that old movies are the best kind of movies. Especially if they’re B movies. There’s something so simple about the humor, it’s all slapstick, and I think horror and mystery movies are so much creepier when they’re done in black and white. I don’t know if I can pick a favorite, but the Miss Marple movies that came out in the sixties will always hold a special place in my heart (and yes, I realize that I’m about as old as these movies, but they’re at least 20 years old, so they count as ‘old’).

Two, Billy is actually not my real name. I mean, it is, but it’s not. I was named after my dad, and William is actually my middle name. Still, I never liked the name Neil, and it was confusing having two Neils in the house when I was growing up, so my mom started calling me by my middle name, shortened it to Billy, and then it just stuck. Now that I’m legally an adult, I’m going to get my name officially changed, I just have to save up the money. I can now that I have a job, so hopefully soon, it’ll be done.

Anyway, this letter is getting kinda long, so I should probably wrap it up soon. I didn’t mean to ramble all that time, but I just like being able to tell you things. I haven’t ever really told anyone anything about me that they didn’t need to know, not even some of my friends from back in California, but I feel like I can tell you anything. I guess that’s kinda silly, but whatever. Somehow it still feels like you’re listening, like you’re hearing me, and that’s all I need.

Love, Billy

P.S. I remembered that author’s name, it’s Nancy Garden.

The last letter had been a little bit lighter than the previous few, and it made it a little easier to read it. At least he’d been able to stop crying while reading it. It even made him smile a little, until he got to the part about graduation. He remembered that day, Billy hadn’t shown up. He swore he saw him by the bleachers on their way to the football field for the ceremony, but he had never been sure. He always assumed Billy was just being aloof and blowing it off to be an asshole. Now he knew better, and he wasn’t sure whether he liked knowing. On the one hand, it was nice to understand Billy, but on the other hand, it was a tremendous burden. He’d never be able to discuss that book with him, or sing Van Halen while driving, or watch black and white movies with him. And maybe they never would’ve anyway if Billy were still alive, but now, there wasn’t even a chance. And it wouldn’t have weighed on Steve so much if he were still alive and it never happened, either, because he never would’ve known about any of this to begin with. And now, he just had to live with it as he read the last few letters.

June 14th, 1985

Dear Steve,

Today was the first time since school ended that I saw you. I had to drive Max and her weird little friend Elle around, and they wanted to go to the mall, so of course I had to waste my gas chauffeuring them around, but even though I was pissed about it at first, it ended up being the best thing that could’ve happened to me today. I was just gonna drop them off and have them meet me back at the doors in a few hours, but as we drove around the building, I saw you walking in through an employee door on the side, and I decided then to park and go in, too. Max demanded to know what I was doing, she must’ve thought I was gonna follow her and her friend around all day, but I just told her that there were a few stores I wanted to check out inside, then left the car before she could ask anything else and told her and her friend to meet me back there in a few hours.

It took me a while to find you, but that was okay. I was able to go around and look at a few of the stores, and there were actually a few decent ones. There was a record store, for one, and I got a new cassette I’ve been looking for, so that was cool. There were also a couple of decent clothing stores, though I doubt they’ll last. The mothers and fathers of Hawkins will probably be too scandalized by anything they sell unless it's also sold at the Gap, so hopefully, I’ll be able to get some things while I can. I don’t make a whole lot at my job, not after I pay my dad for rent, anyway, but I should be able to get a few things by the end of the summer.

But anyway, back to what I was saying. I walked the whole mall, looking in every store trying to find where you worked, but after a thorough sweep of the whole first floor, you were nowhere to be found. I even pretended to get lost and wandered into the movie theater to see if that’s where you were, but no dice. Then I saw the escalators that led upstairs. I don’t like malls, there’s too big a chance of running into somebody that you know that you don’t want to see, so I didn’t want to be there any longer than I had to, but I was determined to see you. I didn’t realize how much I would miss seeing you every day until school ended, and now I feel like if I don’t see your face at least once a week or so, I might lose my mind. I know that sounds stupid considering how little we actually saw each other in school, but it’s the truth.

Anyway, I didn’t want to leave without seeing you, and I knew Max and her friend wouldn’t be done shopping for at least another hour, so I went up to the second floor and started to look around. There wasn’t as much to see up there, mostly just more clothing and shoe stores, but then I passed these two girls, and they were tittering on about how funny and cute it was watching you trying to flirt with them. They each had an ice cream cone in their hands, and I saw the store they got it from a little farther down the hall, and figured that was as good a place as any to try and find you, so I went there.

Scoops Ahoy! is kind of a stupid name, isn’t it? What does ice cream have to do with sailing, anyway? But whatever, it doesn’t matter, because when I looked in the window, there you were, in all your glory, behind the counter with the silliest outfit on that I’ve ever seen. Seriously, it was just like those girls had said, cute but hilarious, especially that absolutely adorable hat. Kudos to whoever designed those uniforms. And all joking aside, you wore it well.

Well, I guess you know what happened next, you were there. I went inside and pretended to give a rat’s ass about the girl you were working with and flirted with her, but I was only trying to make you jealous. Which is stupid, right? Because there’s no way you’d ever be into me like that, but I can pretend that your face got all red because you were jealous of her and not because you wanted to flirt with her yourself and I had stolen your thunder. Not that I blame you, she’s got a certain awkward cuteness to her and you would make a sickeningly sweet couple, but you can’t blame a guy for hoping, right? It didn’t matter anyway, I guess I’m not her type, because she dismissed me before I even got going, so I guess you still have a shot.

Anyway, after that, neither of you seemed to want anything to do with me, but your girl was closer to the employee door, so she left and it was just you and me. You asked what I wanted, and to be honest, I wasn’t trying to be a dick when I said I wanted something smooth, sweet and rich, and I wasn’t referring to your coworker, I had just been so distracted up until that point that I hadn’t looked at the flavors yet, so sorry about that.

You took it well, though, just rolled your eyes and suggested something with entirely too much chocolate, but it was pretty good, and that’s saying something considering I was the one who ate it. I’m usually not a huge fan of ice cream, but whatever you gave me was decent enough. I can’t remember what it was called, but I’m sure it’ll just give me another excuse to start up a conversation with you the next time I come in. It’ll probably be soon, since Max was already talking about going back to the mall when I dropped her and her friend off at the Chief’s house for a sleepover. I guess I don’t really mind wasting my gas carting them around if it means I get to see you again. I just hope that you and that girl aren’t an item by the next time I see you.

Love, Billy

Steve found himself starting to get teary-eyed again as he finished the last letter, remembering that day he saw Billy in the mall. He’d gotten so upset when he started flirting with Robin, and he’d wanted to smack him when he made that crack about ‘smooth, sweet and rich’. Now he just felt guilty about everything. If ever there was a time he wished he had access to a time machine, it would’ve been now, because maybe he could go back and change things, fix one little thing and make everything better, make it so that Billy didn’t die and they could start all over. Instead, all he could do was keep reading and try to keep himself together as he did.

June 29th / June 30th, 1985

Dear Steve,

I wrecked my car tonight. It was out near the old steel mill, something ran in front of my car and I swerved to avoid it, and I completely ruined her, my baby. I don’t want to tell you where I was going. I shouldn’t have been going there, I shouldn’t have been out there that late at night. I just got so lonely, y’know? And it was nice to feel wanted, even if I knew from the start that nothing good would come from it and that it was wrong on so many levels. But I’ve been pent up and going stir crazy since I last saw you, and I just needed something to get me through until I could.

Damn, I really built up the suspense there, huh? I guess now I have to tell you. I was going to a motel just a little bit out of town. I was gonna meet Mrs. Wheeler there. She and a few of the other moms that hang out at the pool every day like to flirt with me and sometimes I play into it, because what else is there to do? And it’s not like they’d stop if I asked them to, so sometimes I just decide it’s not worth the battle. I don’t get paid enough to deal with them anyway, so sometimes I just say whatever I can think of to get them to leave me alone. So maybe it was a bad idea for me to suggest it, but I couldn’t think of anything else to do.

But anyway, I was gonna meet Mrs. Wheeler out at a motel, but then that thing ran in front of my car and I wrecked it. I don’t think the thing was hurt, but I was totally freaked out. It was dark and I was alone on this desolate little road and nobody knew where I was at or where I was going and I hit my head and my car wouldn’t start again, so I didn’t know what to do. And I think I hit that thing anyway, because when I got out to look at the damage, there was this weird goo on my car, like animal guts or something, and that just freaked me out even more. But what really got me was that then, I saw something move out of the corner of my eye, so whatever I hit, I guess I didn’t kill it, and I don’t know what kind of animals are supposed to be out in those woods, but this thing fucking growled at me, this weird high-pitched screechy kind of growl, and I wanted to get out of there so bad, but I couldn’t. And then I tried to be rational about it, hoping it was a person instead and not some kind of animal and that maybe they could help me, so I asked if anyone was there, but then something grabbed me.

Steve, I don’t know what the fuck it was. All I know is that it grabbed my ankle and was strong enough to pull me backwards and it was fast. Like, faster than any wild animal should have been, especially while dragging me along with it. It pulled me into the abandoned warehouse and tried to drag me down a flight of stairs, but I grabbed the handrails and tried to get away. It gets kinda blurry at this point, but I think I did, and I ran as fast as I could out of that building, and I didn’t even think, I just got back in my car and somehow it was working and I sped away and just drove until I found a phone booth. I called the cops, but I had no idea what the hell had just happened to me, and it was coming back in bits and pieces and I just couldn’t speak. And when I opened my eyes again to try and talk, everything was different. I mean, it was the same, but different. It was freezing, like it was winter instead of summer, and there was this weird dust floating around like snowflakes, and I was so confused that I hung up the phone and went outside. And my car was still there, it was still Hawkins, but somehow, it felt like the fog that hadn’t been there before was staring at me. I know this doesn’t make any sense, but in my head I could hear it laughing at me, like I was a sideshow attraction or something, and it made me feel anxious. And I started screaming at it, like that would do anything, because I had no idea what else to do, and then the sky lit up red from this weird lightning and I had no idea what was happening, just that it wasn’t good, and I was right.

This is the worst part, though. I saw someone walking towards me, and at first I was relieved, because I thought they were coming to help me, but then they got close enough for me to see them through the darkness, and it was me. It was me, but it wasn’t. It looked like me and walked like me, but it’s voice was different, and I know for a fact it wasn’t me, because I was right fucking there and it was speaking to me. I had asked it what it wanted while I was just shouting into the dark, and that thing, it answered me. It said in this dark, deep voice that it wanted to build, that it wanted me to build, and I had no idea what that meant, so I asked it what it wanted me to build, and it just said ‘what you see’. And I said I didn’t understand what that meant, and it didn’t say anything else, it just turned around and walked off.

And then, the next thing I knew, I was back in my car, and I was on my way home. The crack in the windshield was still there, and it was still dented up, so I knew the accident happened, but now I don’t know what to think. I know I hit my head, so it must’ve just been a really intense dream, but it just felt so real. I could feel everything that happened, and I don’t know why I would dream first and black out second. I don’t know what’s going on, and I don’t know if it’s over or not, but I really hope it is. And this is gonna sound crazy, but on the off chance that whatever happened to me tonight actually was real and it did happen, I hope I die before I see the rest of it pan out. If that other me was real, I don’t want to know what the hell it can do to me or anyone that I care about.

But I don’t know what’s real anymore. Maybe I’m not even writing this, maybe I’m still passed out in my car on the side of the road somewhere, still dreaming away. Or maybe I died tonight and this is the purgatory/Hell I was sent to. Either way, I hope that after I finish this letter and go to bed, I wake up for real tomorrow and everything is back to normal, or at least I get some answers on whether or not I’m going to spend eternity in that Hellscape I dreamed up.

Love, Billy

This had been the hardest letter of all of them to get through. There were so many things that just made Steve’s stomach turn, and he wasn’t sure which was the worst. For one, Billy must’ve been terrified. To be in a car crash and then to also be faced with what he assumed was the Mind Flayer and then end up facing himself after ending up in the Upside Down? Steve had faced demogorgons, demodogs and even torture from Russian soldiers, but all that seemed like nothing compared to what Billy went through. Not only that, but he hadn’t even known if it was real or not. That would be terrifying in and of itself. And to think that all of this happened because he was going to meet Mrs. Wheeler at some motel.

Steve had never been very close with Nancy’s mom, but after spending so much time at her house, he liked to think he had a certain knowledge of the way she was. And to now find out that she was planning on having an affair with someone his and Nancy’s age… It made him feel disgusting on so many levels. It would be like if he had a thing for Holly, it was just gross. And Billy had to deal with that on a daily basis, and while he was working, too. And sure, maybe Billy wasn’t exactly innocent in all of this, either, but he was barely an adult, and he shouldn’t have had the opportunity in the first place. The only good thing about Billy getting into that accident was that he never had the chance to meet Mrs. Wheeler. The problem was that he met something much more dangerous.

That point was reiterated as Steve picked up the next letter, before he even started reading. The paper was a little crinkled in some places, like drops of water had hit it, and the pen was smudged in a few spots. It made a pit form in Steve’s stomach as he realized Billy must’ve been crying as he wrote it, and a lump started growing in his throat as he started to read.

July 2nd, 1985

Dear Steve,

I don’t know what’s happening, but I’m scared. Ever since the accident, things haven’t been right, and I don’t know what’s gonna happen, but I know it’s not good. And I know that it involves you, and Max, and Elle, and probably all of their little friends and your girlfriend, too, and probably a lot of other people.

See, I’m writing this in a moment of lucidity, because lately everything’s been going black and when I wake up, I’m in a whole new place and I don’t know how I got there, and I only have so long before it all goes black again. I never know how long I have, but hopefully I can finish this before I run out of time. If not, I don’t know if I’ll ever get a chance to finish, because these blackouts are becoming more and more frequent and I think soon they’re gonna take over and I’m not gonna wake back up again.

I don’t know what this thing is, though. I just know it’s what got me the night I crashed. It hates when it’s warm, and the sun is basically its enemy. I think that’s why that place where I saw myself was so cold. And speaking of seeing myself, I think that, whatever it was, that other me, it takes over when I black out, which is how I go from place to place without knowing it. It’s like a parasite, I guess, it takes you over little by little until there’s nothing left of you. I don’t want that to happen to me, but who could I tell that would A, believe me and B, help me get rid of it? I don’t think anyone would. It’s like the plague, everyone would find out I’m infected and run away screaming, and I’d be left to die all alone. I don’t want to die alone. I don’t want to die period, but it’d be even worse if I was alone when I kicked it.

Anyway, I don’t have much time, so I wanna say some things before I can’t anymore. One, if you ever find these letters, please don’t hate me for the things I say in them. I didn’t mean for it to go this far when I wrote that first one, but after I did, it just became like a journal, I could tell you anything and you’d listen and you’d comfort me just by hearing me. That’s cheesy as hell, but it’s true. I still kinda hope you never find them, but if you do, don’t hate me for them.

Two, if you are reading this, that means you found the letters, and if that’s the case, then I need you to do something for me. I need you to help Max through this. Make sure she’s okay, make sure she stays safe, and make sure as hell that she learns to drive better than the way I did. She better never crash because she was driving recklessly like I did, and if she does, I will personally kick your ass when I see you in the afterlife. And if this thing that’s in me ever goes after her, you better make sure it suffers as it dies, do you understand me? And I know that’s already a lot to ask, but I just need one more thing. As much as we got on each other’s nerves, Max and I needed each other. So if I die, please do what you can to be a big brother for her. Pester her a little bit, pretend you hate it when she demands rides all over town, and above all, be there for her when she needs you, because I know she will. Y’know, now that I think about it, I think I understand your relationship with the Henderson kid now. You’re already his big brother, so just be the same for Max, okay?

Three, make sure the rest of their little gang knows I’m sorry for the things I did to scare them, especially Lucas. I know it sounds like a cop-out, but I really was just trying to protect them. They’re good kids, but I knew they wouldn’t leave Max alone, and if my dad found out she was hanging out with a bunch of boys, it wouldn’t have ended well, for any of us. And as for Elle, I know that whatever this thing is inside me, it has something to do with her. I keep seeing her in my head, and I just hope that she knows that whatever happens, it’s nothing personal. I actually kinda liked her, as far as Max’s friends go, she was the nicest, and she always said thank you whenever I drove them somewhere. She’s a good kid, they all are.

And lastly, whatever happens, don’t feel guilty about it. You’re a great guy, Steve, and I know you think it’s always up to you to be the hero, but if I die, don’t feel bad, because there’s nothing you could’ve done. And even if there was something you could do, don’t feel bad, because even if I die, if you can help save Max and the rest of the kids and your girlfriend and maybe even a few other people, you’ve done more than enough. Don’t worry about me, okay? If this thing can be beaten, I’m gonna beat it, and if I come to after it’s all said and done and you’re mopey because you didn’t get to save me and be the hero, I’m gonna let it get back in me and finish the job.

Wow, actually, scratch that, I didn’t realize how morbid that was until I wrote it down, but the message is the same. If there’s even a chance I can get through this, I will, and that’s that, okay? I’m gonna see your face at the end of this, mopey or not, and when I do, maybe I’ll give you these letters. If I can face whatever this thing is in me, I can face you with a few sheets of paper, right? And if I don’t make it through and you find these letters anyway, know I did everything I could.

Oh, and one more thing. If I don’t make it, I want you to take my bomber jacket. Y’know, the one I was wearing on that night back in November. You don’t have to wear it, you don’t even have to look at it, just keep it for me, okay? I love that jacket, it was my mom’s, and she gave it to me before she left because I always said how much I liked it. I know that when I’m gone, my dad’s not gonna want to deal with my stuff, so he’ll probably donate most of it and pitch the rest, but I want you to have the jacket. It means too much to me for it to end up at the bottom of a landfill or being sold for two bucks at a thrift store, so if you’d keep it, it would mean a lot to me. And if you want to wear it, please do. It’s kinda corny, but it’d be like giving you my letterman jacket like the guys would do with their girls in the movies. That might make it weird for you to think of it like that, but like I said, you don’t have to wear it. Just keep it for me so I know it’s in good hands.

Anyway, I’m gonna try to wrap this up now so I make sure I finish in time. I’m doing my best to be positive here, but I gotta tell you, every minute that passes as I’m writing this, the more scared I get. I don’t think there’s gonna be a way out of this for me. I just hope I don’t take too many people down with me. I’m sorry if I do. And I’m sorry in general. I wish I wasn’t such a coward and would’ve been able to put aside my pride to make things right with you. I wish we could’ve been friends. I wish I could’ve given you these letters and seen your face as you read them. I wish I would’ve known if you’d hate me for having a crush on you or if you would’ve been nice about it and let me down gently. I wish I would’ve known what your favorite Cheech and Chong movie was, and if you liked pineapple on pizza. I wish I’d have been able to learn your middle name because I asked you, not because I hid under the bleachers on graduation day and waited to hear it. I wish I could stop saying “I wish” and just get to the point. I wish I had all the time in the world to keep coming up with things to say “I wish” about. But I don’t, and I need to cut myself off before I keep saying it and I never say what I really want to say.

I really care about you, Steve, maybe I even love you. I don’t think I’ll ever know, because I never got the chance to try, and it’s my own fault for fucking things up with you early on. But if it is love that I’ve been feeling all these months, I’m sorry that this is the way you had to find out. I’m really gonna miss you, Steve. And maybe it’s selfish, but I hope you’ll miss me a little bit, too.

All my love (I think), Billy

Steve finished the last letter, and as soon as he did, he scrambled out of bed and down the stairs, heading for the phone in the kitchen. It was a little after two in the morning and he was a mess, tears were streaming down his face and it was going to be hard to talk through the sobs, but he needed to talk to Robin. He punched in her number and tried to calm himself down a little, but it was no use, he only became more hysterical the longer it took for someone to answer. Finally, just before the answering machine would’ve picked up instead, her mom answered, sounding groggy and annoyed as she asked who was calling.

“It’s S-Steve. I’m so sorry, Mrs. B-Buckley, but I need t-to talk to Robin,” he said, rubbing his eyes as he continued to try and calm down.

“Steve, oh my goodness, is everything alright? Did something happen, are you okay?” Mrs. Buckley asked, her annoyance melting away into concern.

“No, no, I’m fine,” Steve said, clearing his throat, “I’m really sorry, ma’am, I just really need to talk to her, please.”

“Okay, honey, just hold on a second and I’ll go wake her up. We’ll be right back, okay?”

“Okay,” Steve said, swallowing as he listened to Mrs. Buckley setting the receiver down and walking away to wake Robin up. A few seconds later and he heard someone picking it back up, followed by a few steps and then the sound of a door closing before Robin finally yawned at him through the phone.

“Steve, it’s two a.m., what-”

“They were letters,” he interrupted, sniffling a little, “In that envelope, they were love letters.”

“Holy shit,” Robin said, both curious and astounded.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, leaning his back against the wall and then sliding down to sit against it.

“What did they say?” Robin asked.

“Everything,” Steve said, shivering out a sigh, “It started with him saying that he wanted to understand me more, and then the next few said that he was sorry for the thing last November and he told me about some of the things he went through at home and how his mom left when he was ten, and then he said he liked me but we weren’t even friends so he wasn’t gonna tell me in person but he cared about me and then in the next one he told me why he was always so mean to the kids and after that, he told me all about how his dad would treat him like shit and-”

“Whoa, whoa, Steve, I’m starting to lose you, take a breath, okay?” Robin said, breathing with him through the phone. “Now, I was with you for the most part, so keep going, just try and slow down a bit, okay?”

“Okay,” Steve said, taking one more deep breath. “He told me that on his birthday his dad beat him up because Susan got him a cake, and that it happened all the time for stupid reasons. And in the next letter, he had had a good day, so he told me all about himself. He liked black and white movies, Robin. He was gonna be a mechanic. He hated mushrooms and he loved Van Halen and he liked to read and Billy wasn’t his real name and he had a dream about me and jellyfish and I never even thought to learn any of this about him when he was still here and now I feel like a fucking jackass because I should’ve given him a chance while I could but I didn’t and now it’s too late!”

Steve had started crying harder again as he explained, and Robin just let him. She wished she could crawl through the phone and hug him, but she couldn’t, so she just let him get it out. He cried through the phone at her for a few minutes, and she kept telling him it would be okay, until finally, he’d cried himself out enough to keep talking.

“He didn’t like ice cream, but he liked the chocolate cheesecake explosion I gave him when he came into Scoops that one time,” he said, swallowing thickly. “And then the last two letters was when he told me about how he got possessed by the Mind Flayer. He was in an accident and it got him, but he didn’t know what was happening because we never brought him into the loop about all that stuff.”

“Steve, you know we couldn’t. I didn��t know about it either, and you only told me when I got involved, otherwise you’d have broken your NDA. And Max couldn’t have told him, either, or else she’d have gotten in trouble, too. It’s not your fault,” Robin tried, but Steve only chuckled dryly through the phone.

“That’s what he said, too. He said it’s not my fault, but that’s bullshit. I’m bullshit. I should’ve told him.”

“Steve, you are not bullshit, you’re the farthest thing from bullshit. And when would you have told him, huh? When you hated him and didn’t want him within ten feet of you? You said yourself, you weren’t friends, and who knows if he would’ve believed you, anyway. I didn’t at first, I doubt he would, either. There’s nothing that you could’ve done.”

“Yes there is, I just didn’t do it and now he’s dead and it’s all my fault!” Steve yelled, slamming his fist down on the floor. “It’s all my fault, Robin.”

“It’s not, Steve. Billy made the choice to drive the way he did. He made the choice to be on that particular road at that particular time. And he also made the choice to save El and the rest of us by standing up to that thing. He was a fighter, if there was anything he could’ve done to get out of there with us, he would’ve, but he must’ve figured it was either him or us, and he chose to save us. There was nothing any of us could’ve done.”

“I could’ve forgiven him.”

“He never asked if you would forgive him.”

“That doesn’t mean he deserved what happened.”

“You’re right, it doesn’t. But it is what it is, and all we can do now is make sure we don’t take what he did for granted, right?”

“I guess so,” Steve sniffed, wiping away some fresh tears as he leaned his head back against the wall and stared at the ceiling. He didn’t know it, but Robin was sitting against her door in exactly the same position as she stayed on the line, just breathing with her best friend.

“Hey, by the way,” he said after a few minutes, “Do you remember what we did with Billy’s bomber jacket?”

“I think we took it to Goodwill with the rest of his clothes, why?”

“In the last letter, he said he wanted me to have it if he died because it was his mom’s and he didn’t want it to end up in a thrift store for someone else to buy.”

“Then tomorrow, when they open, you and I can go and get it back, okay? For right now, I think we both just need to get some sleep, and then when we go tomorrow to get it, you can tell me more about these letters, does that sound good?”

“Yeah, that sounds good. See you tomorrow, Robin,” Steve said, waiting until he heard a click followed shortly by the dial tone. He grunted as he heaved himself up after that, putting his phone back on the cradle and then trudging back up to his room. He was exhausted, but he was almost afraid to fall asleep, not knowing what might enter his head if he started to dream after all this. Still, he cleaned up the letters off of his bed, folded them gently back up and put them back in the envelope. He put the envelope in his nightstand drawer and sighed as he closed it, wiping his eyes one last time as he settled in bed, falling asleep quicker than he would’ve liked.

He then found himself in an aquarium, surrounded by jellyfish on all sides. He was a little cold as he looked at the tanks, and he could feel himself shiver as he watched the creatures floating around him, but then he heard someone coming up behind him, and when he turned to look, there was Billy. He didn’t say anything, just took off his jacket, the bomber, and held it up for Steve to put on. He did, and then the two of them just stood there, watching the fish. Every few seconds though, Steve would glance over, searching for something to say.

“Okay, okay, I can take a hint,” Billy finally said, smiling and turning to face Steve before wrapping his arms around him and hugging him tightly as he added, “It’s okay, Steve. It’s all okay, I promise.”

It felt like only a second had passed when Steve woke up the next morning, in his bedroom, the covers twisted around him and his clock reading 11 a.m.. He called Robin and they made their plans, agreeing to meet in a half hour so that they could get to Goodwill with plenty of time before it opened. It was a Sunday, so they didn’t open until noon, and Steve was glad about that. If it had been any other day, Robin would’ve called early in the morning so that they could get there when it usually opened, and he might not have been able to see his dream play out, and that would’ve killed him.

The dream didn’t fix everything, and Steve knew that more than likely, it was just his subconscious picking something to try and help him rationalize everything that happened. But he liked to think that maybe, just maybe, it was no accident that he had that dream. Maybe Billy really was there in his head, trying to send him a message. And if that was the case, he was going to take it and run with it, all the way to the Goodwill and back again, bomber jacket in hand.

#billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove #fanfic #max mayfield #robin buckley #dustin henderson #the party #harringrove flip/reverse

25 notes · View notes