#lmao not my suicidal ideation ass getting 'The Long Sleep'

[magniloquent-raven]

for fluff: "one more chapter" or "there's enough room for both of us"

it’s been 84 years............ but here u go lmao tysm for the prompts!!!!!! i used both!

CW for some brief suicidal ideation, just in case. it’s v mild but pls be careful yall (i know, this fic was supposed to be fluffy 😅)

posted on ao3

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Billy’s life had changed a lot in the past two years. 

So much that some days he barely recognizes himself in the mirror. The scars, the state of his hair—which he hasn’t cut since last summer and generally just throws back for convenience’ sake—the stubble he doesn’t bother with most days. Small things, in the grander scheme of what’s different about his life, but it adds up.

And it’s Friday night, he’s curled up at home, and perfectly content to be there. 

There’s a steaming mug of cider on the coffee table (a scratched-up old thing that Hop left him when he officially handed off ownership of his trailer to Billy), and wind rattling the windows, and Max is asleep in the next room. It’s...cozy. 

El stopped by earlier that afternoon, Max in tow, demanding Billy let them stay because Mike was being a dick or a DnD campaign was going on too long and El’s character died a while back so she was bored, or...something. Possibly Mike was being a dick about her character being dead. Max kept chiming in with her own two cents worth but it really just made the whole thing harder to follow.

But it didn’t really matter why they stopped by, they’re always coming up with reasons to invade his living room and eat all his food and nag him about teaching them how to do fancy braids. And Max usually wanders off to nap in his room when El starts asking Billy to read to her.

Which is what he’s doing now. 

Last month he read her Jane Eyre (her idea). A week ago they started The Hobbit. 

It’s been slow going, considering how often El interrupts to ask questions, and every time there’s a song they have the same argument about him not actually singing, but they’re making progress. 

He’s reading through the weird goblin song as monotone as possible just so he can laugh at El’s disgruntled scrunchy face, and putting up with her poking his thigh with her toes when he rolls his eyes at her, and honestly having the time of his fucking life, because, yeah, saying things have changed in the past two years is the understatement of the decade.

When he gets to the end of Over Hill and Under Hill and closes the book she gasps dramatically, sitting up and pulling the ugly orange throw blanket (gift from Mrs. Byers) she’d been snuggled up in tighter around her shoulders.

“Billy, no!” 

He drops the book in his lap and raises his eyebrows at her. “It’s the end of the chapter.”

“No.”

“Yeah, it definitely is.”

El frowns at him, her whole face going pinched. “But you can’t stop there.”

It’s moments like this that almost make Billy forget she can kill people with her brain. Moments when she just looks like a kid, all wrapped up in her favourite blanket and pouting. 

And it’s like she knows that’s his goddamn kryptonite. Because those moments also remind him that she deserves this. More than anyone he knows, she deserves all the childish crap she wants, and more. It won’t ever replace the childhood that was taken from her, but it’s a start.

So, needless to say, Billy has a hard time saying no to her.

He drops his head back against the cushion behind him, staring at the ceiling for a moment—pretending to contemplate, while she glowers at him—and sighs loudly. 

“One more chapter.” 

She beams.

They’re only a few pages into Riddles in the Dark when a car pulls up, and Billy doesn’t even have time to put the book down before the front door bursts open. 

“El! Will thought he—is that The Hobbit?” Dustin comes to an abrupt halt two paces into the room, blinking at the book in Billy’s hands. All his little friends nearly collide with his back, and there’s suddenly a gaggle of obnoxious teenagers huddled in Billy’s doorway. 

“Who cares,” Lucas scoffs, pushing him out of the way so he, Wheeler, and Will, can shuffle the rest of the way inside. “Get out of the way!”

Billy is still trying to figure out what the fuck’s even happening when Steve goddamn Harrington walks in behind his pack of brats. Because of course he was the one who drove them here. Him being a fine upstanding citizen and all that. With nothing better to do, apparently. (Not that Billy has room to judge anymore.)

Suddenly the bickering kids are mostly background noise. Billy always did have a hard time concentrating on anything else when Steve’s in the room. Especially when he’s looking like that, warm brown eyes lit up with interest, and the corner of his mouth pulling upwards in a half-smile. His cheeks are pink from the chill outside, his hair a mess from the wind, and locking eyes with him makes Billy’s heart pound. 

They’ve been on good terms these past few months and it’s a special kind of torture that Billy wouldn’t give up for the fucking world.

But he doesn’t get to enjoy the view for long because—

“—the Mind Flayer might be back!”

Billy stiffens. “What?” He glances at El. She’s sitting up straight now, her eyes dark, expression closed off. 

Mike sighs irritably. “Weren’t you listening? Will thinks he might have sensed the Mind Flayer, so we needed to make sure El’s okay.” He crosses his arms, glaring at Billy. “Because the stupid thing wants her dead, remember?”

“Wheeler,” Steve hisses, and smacks the kid’s shoulder.

“Yeah.” Billy grits his teeth, cold fingers trailing down his spine. “I remember.” 

The room is silent for several agonizing seconds, the kids all exchanging glances. Until Billy’s bedroom door opens and Max shuffles out, rubbing her eyes. 

“What’s everyone doing here?” 

~~

They’d all been hanging out at Steve’s when Will had a bad feeling. The same kind of prickling bone-deep chill he’d gotten two summers ago. Needless to say, ignoring it until people started dying didn’t seem like the way to go this time, hence the home invasion.

Which had been Steve’s idea, apparently. Or. His initial reaction had been to blurt out does this mean Billy’s possessed again, and it had spiraled from there. To Mike freaking out about El not being safe because she was here, to Lucas reminding him that Billy had only gotten the better of her when she didn’t have powers, to Dustin yelling about checking in with her either way because she might have The Facts. 

And so they’d broken a couple traffic laws to get here.

Billy suspects Steve feels guilty about suggesting he might be possessed, because he got very awkward when it was brought up. And he stepped in several times when Wheeler and Sinclair’s interrogation got a little too intense (there were threats of hot pokers involved).

It should have felt condescending—Billy’s a grown-ass adult, he doesn’t need someone defending him from lanky teenagers—but he can’t help feeling a little warm when it’s Steve coming to his defense. 

The discussion overall is a mess. El doesn’t have any answers, Billy hasn’t felt anything odd lately, and the lack of anything to go on beyond Will having a momentary freakout is putting everyone on edge. 

Max, who squished herself onto the couch between Billy and El, cuts through the cyclical arguing after the third dramatic eye-roll from Mike. “Guys, can you cool it for a second. We’re getting nowhere.” Her protest is punctuated by a yawn, which makes El giggle. 

“She’s right,” Steve sighs, mussing with his hair absentmindedly. “Billy and El are fine, everyone’s fine, we should all get some sleep.”

“Dude, are you sure you’re good to drive?” Dustin asks, squinting appraisingly at Steve. It’s a fair question, it’s late and Steve looks like he’s about to keel over, but Billy’s not sure he likes where this is going.

“Who said anything about driving?” Max snorts, glancing at Billy. 

Damnit Max.

“Is there even space for everyone here? This place is tiny.”

“Fuck you, Wheeler, not all of us can live in goddamn mansions.”

The kid opens his mouth to retort, bristling with indignation, but Will interjects, stuttering a little in his haste, “I, um, I’d feel a little safer if everyone, you know, stayed in one place? At least for tonight?”

And that pretty much settles it. 

Once everyone mumbles their (in some cases reluctant) agreement, El crows “Sleepover!” and drags Max off to find spare blankets, leaving Billy sitting on the couch alone and wondering where the hell Steve is gonna sleep. For...no particular reason...other than…

Well.

It’s not like Mike was wrong, the trailer wasn’t built to house six teenagers and two twenty-somethings. Most of them are going to end up squished on the living room floor, and Max and El already called dibs on the couch, and...well, unless Steve wants to crash in the fucking kitchen there really isn’t anywhere else for him to go other than Billy’s room. He doesn’t even have a goddamn tub the guy could curl up in. 

And just because he’s wanted Steve Harrington in his bed since minute one, doesn’t mean he wants it right now. Not like this. 

Because like this he has to deal with Max’s side-eye, and El’s knowing look (the girl has been in his head, she literally knows everything about him), and Will’s weird wide-eyed interest, and worst of all, Steve not doing this because he wants to. 

In fact, judging by the way he blanches when Max suggests it, Billy’s room is the last place he’d like to be. Which is not really something Billy ever really wanted hard proof of, thanks. 

He’s dealt with enough in his life, he didn’t need to know exactly how repulsive Steve finds the idea of sleeping in the same room as him. 

“You’re welcome to sleep in your goddamn car if my floor isn’t good enough for you, Harrington,” he bites out, probably harsher than was warranted. 

Steve blinks at him, mouth falling open, eyebrows raised. 

“Oh my god, it’s too cold to sleep outside, Billy,” Max says, rolling her eyes. “Stop being such a dick.”

“Whatever,” he mutters. “Figure your shit out, I’m going to bed.” 

The silence he leaves behind is tense and awkward. 

He’s been laying in bed staring at the ceiling, moping and berating himself, for about ten minutes when the door creaks open.

“Hey, uh,” Steve’s voice is soft, uncertain, and Billy feels like even more of an asshole for snapping at him. “I’m just...gonna...crash on the floor. Um. Good night.”

This is punishment isn’t it. For being such a douche for so long. Now he gets to try and fall asleep knowing Steve fucking Harrington is laying nearby, sleepy and warm and out of reach. He listens to Steve shuffle around, getting situated, laying out blankets and trying to find a soft bit of carpet to lay on. Has to bite his tongue to keep from saying something stupid. Like offering up his bed. Or poking fun at how much Steve sighs when he’s getting comfortable (Because it’s dumb, not cute. Definitely not cute.).

It’s unclear how long they lay there in the dark, Billy watching moonlight cast the outlines of skeletal trees across the wall, listening to Steve’s quiet breathing to remind himself he’s not alone. That the shadows are just shadows and there’s no reason to be tense and sweating and—

Billy’s pretty sure it’s been long enough that Steve should be asleep, considering how tired he looked, so he tosses his blanket off and swipes the pack of cigarettes off his bedside table, hoping to god the floor doesn’t creak when he pads across the room. There’s no noise coming from the other room, so either the kids are asleep too or a miracle has occurred and they’re all just being really quiet. 

He slips out the side door, and takes a breath. The lake is too still, despite the wind. No self-respecting body of water doesn’t have waves. But it’s pretty enough, he supposes. Enough to make for a decent view while he smokes a cigarette.

Takes a couple tries to light up. His hands aren’t what they used to be, especially in the cold. Holding off a thirty-foot meat puppet bare-handed does that to a person, tears shit up that doesn’t heal right afterwards.

He’s about halfway through his cig when Steve joins him. Billy’s shoulders stiffen at the sound of footsteps, and he doesn’t relax at all when he realizes who it is. 

“Hey.”

Out of the corner of his eye Billy watches Steve lean against the porch railing beside him. He takes another drag before he looks over properly, keeping his expression as neutral as possible. “Fancy meeting you here.” 

“Couldn’t sleep?”

Billy raises his eyebrows. Gestures with his cigarette and turns away again. “No shit.”

He can feel Steve’s eyes on him, and he resolutely ignores it. Stares out at the water and flicks cigarette ash over the railing. The wind picks up again and cuts through his thin shirt. Should’ve grabbed a fucking sweater. Not because the cold bothers him at all, but...well, because it doesn’t anymore.

He shivers when a completely-unrelated-to-the-weather chill runs down his spine.

“Soo…” Steve fidgets, and trails off awkwardly, his nonchalance painfully fake.

The corner of Billy’s mouth twitches, and he raises his cigarette to his lips, a flimsy excuse to hide his smile. 

“Did, uh. Did El choose the book, or…?”

He chokes on a mouthful of smoke. Doc Owens did tell him he shouldn’t have taken up smoking again. Though he was probably more concerned about Billy’s scarred lungs and than Steve Harrington-related hazards. 

Coughing definitely does hurt a lot more than it used to though. 

He flinches when Steve touches his shoulder, pats it, rubs a little—trying to help with the coughing, presumably—making Billy’s heart trip over itself. 

Once he’s no longer wheezing he wipes his eyes, and waves off Steve’s apologies, hoping the embarrassed flush on his cheeks isn’t too visible in the dim light. 

Steve’s hand stays where it is.

For several quiet moments Billy waits for him to withdraw but he doesn’t, and Billy finally meets his eyes. Which was probably a mistake. His heart skips again. He’s still not used to Steve looking at him like that. Soft and wide-eyed and concerned and…

God, he’s so fucking beautiful. Billy used to dream about getting this close without needing pretense, without having to pretend, getting to bask in the warmth coming off him and feel his breath on his skin and see something other than indifference—or worse, the hatred that came later—looking back at him. What he has now is...not quite what he wants. It lights him up but leaves him wanting. 

Another gust of wind makes a mess of Steve’s hair, locks falling into his eyes and sticking up in all directions, and Billy itches. Clenches his fist to stop himself from fixing it.

“Her dweeby little friends kept talking about it, and she couldn’t get through it herself. So...” Billy trails off, scratching his cheek and glancing away. “I may have had a copy laying around.”

Steve’s hand finally leaves its perch on his shoulder—both a disappointment and a relief—to brush the stray locks of hair out of his face. He grins at Billy, whole face lit up and stupidly pretty even as his fingers get stuck in tangles. “Really?” 

“Yeah.” Billy bites the inside of his cheek. “My mom used to read it to me.” 

It’s easier to talk about her now. Mostly with El, who’s still the only person who knows the full story, but, well, he’s pretty sure at least Max and Steve have guessed the bits they weren’t told. Or, hell, maybe El told everyone everything during those months he was out of commission and everyone thought he was dead, and no one’s brought it up to his face because it would be awkward as hell. 

In any case, Steve’s expression softens. 

“Oh,” he says quietly. “So, you and her were pretty close, huh?”

If asked Billy would have blamed the sudden sting of tears in his eyes on the wind. “I guess.” A pause. “Not enough for her to take me when she left,” he mumbles, chewing his thumbnail and frowning out at the lake.

His cigarette hangs between two fingers in his other hand. 

“Billy…”

“Don’t. I’ve heard every condolence in the book, okay. It’s...it’s fine.”

For several long moments the only sounds are the dry rustle of leaves in the wind and Billy’s nail-biting. 

Then Steve slips his fingers around Billy’s wrist and tugs gently. Too surprised to resist, Billy lets him. Lets his hand be pulled away from his face, thumb pressed to his pulsepoint, lets him hold on for a beat longer than necessary before letting go. And Billy stares at him the whole time, lips parted, shoulders tense, waiting to see what Steve will do next.

What he does next is smile a little sad, and tilt his head. “It’s a bad habit, you know. Biting your nails.” 

“I don’t have any other kind of habit.”

“Hm,” Steve hums, “I don’t think that’s true.” 

Which is a weird thing to say, and a weird thing to get emotional over, and yet Billy kind of feels like he’s been punched in the chest.

He rubs at the knotted scar tissue that spiderwebs across his whole torso, and can’t help but wonder—not for the first time—if Steve’s perception of him might be a little blinded by the one good thing he’s ever done. He’s tried to be better since then, atone a little, but Steve’s confidence in him still feels unearned.

And all the work he’s put into getting his shit together might all be for nothing anyways, if some fucking slime monster decides to crawl down his throat again. If Will’s right and that thing is back...for all he knows the thing has it out for him too, after the shit he pulled at Starcourt. He thought he’d end up dead, he wasn’t exactly worried about making himself a target in the long run. 

But now...

Billy exhales slowly through his nose, eyes falling shut for a moment before he grits out, “I can’t do it again.” Steve blinks at him, nonplussed. “This,” he taps his scars, “The fucking. Mind Flayer bullshit. I can’t.”

“You…” Steve folds his arms across his stomach, hands clutching his elbows. It’s a nervous tic that makes Billy ache. Always makes his heart clench, but tonight that gets lost in the black hole of anxiety already twisting up his insides  “You won’t have to, I—we’ll protect you. If we stick together—”

“It’s not a guarantee.”

“No, but—”

“We don’t know anything about this alien shit, for all we know I was never really free of it, and—I just—promise you won’t let it use me again,” Billy’s voice breaks, and he clenches his jaw to try and hold it all back, the taste of bile in the back of his throat, the crushing weight of existential panic pressing in. 

Steve’s eyes widen, “What do you mean by that?”

“You know what I mean. Crash another car into me. Let your ex shoot me in the fucking head. I don’t care how, I need you to stop me.” He needs to understand, Billy’s eyes bore into him, willing him to understand.

But he shakes his head, face twisted up with horror, “I don’t think I can do that.”

Billy takes a step towards him, desperation bleeding into his voice, “Steve.” He blinks back tears. “Please.” 

“Don’t—” Steve looks away, curling in on himself, “Don’t do that.”

“Do what, ask you to perform a public fucking service?” Billy spits, eyes stinging, face burning. He regrets the words once they’re spoken, but there’s no taking them back now. He’s talked with Owens about this sort of shit and he thought he was past it. 

Apparently not.

He deflates. Like a slap in the face, it stops him dead, turns his agonizing back inward where it fucking belongs. Wiping his eyes, he sighs. 

It’s too late to stop the puppy-dog eyes Steve’s giving him now though. The unreserved sadness in the way he’s looking at Billy is so overwhelming it’s almost palpable. “Is that really how you feel?”

Is it? He’s not sure anymore. It was for a long time. Long enough that he couldn’t remember feeling any other kind of way until El reminded him. But now…

He shrugs. “It’s...complicated. I—ah, shit!” His hand jerks, and the cigarette he’d been holding falls to the ground. That never used to hurt so fucking much. “Damn thing burnt me.” 

He sucks on the stinging knuckle, waiting for the pain to subside, tasting salt and ash, and looks back up at Steve.

They lock eyes.

Steve’s expression has closed off, his gaze still heavy, but with something else, sliding down Billy’s face with an intensity Billy’s not quite sure what to make of. He’s struck dumb by the attention (not something he usually has a problem handling), lips still wrapped around his finger but his mouth has gone slack.

It feels like a static shock, one crackling jolt of a moment, something sharp lancing through him, and then it’s over. Steve’s blinking, glancing away. Billy’s hand falls to his side. It would be like it never happened except he still feels charged, pent up, heart full to bursting and stomach in knots. 

Billy sighs, and rubs his eyes. “Let’s just...go back to bed.”

Wording, Billy. Wording. His cheeks warm a little, but he manages to keep his expression neutral as he turns and heads back inside.

He practically throws himself into his bed, curling up on his side and pulling the blankets around him, back turned to Steve. Sleep seems like a pipe dream at this point, but doing anything other than pretending to get some rest would involve talking to and/or looking at Steve, so. Not an option. 

But after he listens to Steve settle back into his little pile of blankets, the minutes crawl by, and Billy gets twitchy. Wants so badly to move, toss and turn and fidget, and say something, but doesn’t know where to start and doesn’t want to draw Steve’s attention, and—

God, this is so fucking stupid.

Billy rolls over. “Steve.”

“Yeah?” 

The room is silent for a beat. He shuffles around a little and the sheets rustle loudly in the quiet.  

“Would you get up here,” he says suddenly, all at once, demanding, scarcely believing what the fuck is coming out of his mouth. 

“...What?” Steve sounds a little breathless and it makes Billy’s stomach clench.

“Just...there’s enough room for both of us, alright.” Jesus christ. 

The lump of Steve and blankets on the floor doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak, for what seems like an eternity, and Billy’s about to brush it off, turn it into a joke, take it back, something, when—

“Okay.”

Oh.

What?

Oh god, he’s getting up. This is happening. Billy stares at his silhouette, the tense line of his shoulders, his awkward gait, and wonders why he’s agreeing to this if he’s so goddamn uncomfortable. 

Guess the floor is officially less comfortable than being in bed with Billy. Joy.

But then he’s sliding under the covers and Billy forgets to be bitter because his brain is mostly static at this point. White noise and his heartbeat thundering in his ears and the deafening creak of boxspring groaning under unexpected weight.

And Steve’s doing that thing again, sighing, little hums as he wiggles around getting himself situated, and Billy is dying. He thought he was being punished before, but now he’s sure, because this is ridiculous. No grown man should be that adorable. 

By the time he’s gotten himself comfy Billy is about ready to combust. 

It doesn’t help that he’s decided to lay down extremely close and facing Billy. It’s so intimate it hurts.

“Do you think you’ll actually sleep?”

Billy shrugs noncommittally. “Maybe.” He tries to make it sound more casual than it is. Like it’s a choice and not the sad fact that he’s too fucking anxious to relax. 

Seems he’s not the only one though, Steve keeps fidgeting, his face doing something weird Billy can’t quite see in the gloom. But he doesn’t have to see to recognize Steve’s tics.

“Spit it out,” Billy sighs.

“What did you mean. When you said it’s complicated?” Steve asks softly.

Ah.

“You really wanna get into this?” He sure doesn’t, but Steve nods and Billy’s fucking weak when it comes to giving Steve what he wants. “I meant that...I...used to feel like that. All the time. It was fucking relentless.” He thinks about rolling onto his back so he won’t have to look at Steve for this, but finds himself stuck, drawn in by the faint starlight reflected in Steve’s eyes. “But nowadays I’ve got...shit to hang on for, I guess. Doesn’t make it all go away, but it makes it easier.”

“Oh.” Steve wriggles a little closer, his hand landing in the space between their pillows. Right next to Billy’s hand. Close enough that he can feel him there, but not quite touching.

He doesn’t say anything else, which Billy’s grateful for. He’s got Doc Owens for the big speeches about how life is worth living, and it’s grating enough getting them from someone who’s literal job is to say that kind of shit. 

It helps. It does. But he can only handle so much.

Speaking of which.

“I’m sorry,” Billy says quietly. He’s keeping his hand too still for it to come across as casual, trembling with the effort. If he moved his pinky just a little they’d be touching, and he’s painfully aware of this fact.

“What for?”

“Earlier, when I...I was asking for a lot.”

“Oh.” Steve shifts, the blankets rustling as he shuffles around, but as much as he fidgets, his hand stays where it is. “Billy...I don’t want you to have to go through that again, but…”

Billy, on an impulse—with a feeling somewhat akin to stepping off a ledge without a parachute—hooks his pinky over Steve’s. In the dark he hears a soft intake of breath, can just barely make out the way Steve’s mouth falls open, moonlight casting shadows when his tongue darts out to lick his lips. 

“I know. It wasn’t fair to—”

“No, no,” Steve flips his palm upward and laces their fingers together, squeezing Billy’s hand. “It’s not that. You have every right to be scared, and...look, this whole thing is batshit crazy, none of us know how to deal with it.” 

Billy runs his thumb along the length of Steve’s index finger, marvelling at the contact, and the way his pulse flutters when the gesture is returned. It takes him a second to find his voice, “True, but you’ve never asked me to mercy kill you.”

Steve exhales, the ghost of a laugh, and it warms the back of Billy’s hand. He shivers, his whole arm tingling. “Billy, I haven’t gone through half the shit you have.” A pause. “I want to help. Anything you need, just...not that.” 

Anything. It catches in Billy’s throat, stops his heart for just a second, reminds him that they’re inches apart, in bed together. For the second time tonight he feels like he’s been punched in the sternum, and he goes rigid, relaxing only minutely when Steve squeezes his hand again.

“Careful, pretty boy. Saying shit like that might give a guy ideas,” he murmurs, gaze searching, wandering Steve’s face, the shadows cast by the soft fall of hair across his forehead.

“Oh yeah?” Steve pulls their clasped hands to his chest. His heart is racing, but his voice is steady, “Well, have enough ideas with no follow-through and a guy might think you’re all talk.”

Billy’s breath catches. The world stops. “You...you don’t want me to follow through.” 

The reality of the situation hits him like a train. Flirting is one thing, he’s always had a hard time keeping his mouth shut around Steve, but this is something he’d only ever regretted letting himself imagine because he knew he’d never have it. And now that it’s within reach...

“See, the thing is…” Steve slides a little closer. His knee brushes Billy’s thigh. “I really, really do.”

“I—” his voice breaks, mouth dry, throat closing up as he tries to swallow past the lump making it hard to breathe. 

“Billy,” Steve whispers, a hot puff of air against Billy’s lips. “Please.”

Fuck.

He surges forward—hard enough that their teeth click together—and his mouth muffles Steve’s gasp. The hand not cradled against Steve’s chest comes up to touch his cheek, fingertips caressing his jaw, coaxing him closer, sliding back to thread into his hair. 

Steve’s lips are plush and warm against his, curved into a smile that leaves Billy tingling, dizzy and drunk on sensations. The way his mouth tastes, the softness of his skin under Billy’s scarred palm, the way his heart twists when Steve reaches out to touch his chest.

He pulls back, and rests his forehead against Steve’s. His eyes stay shut and he just breathes. Soaks up the moment. 

“God,” Steve sighs, nuzzling their noses together. “Always knew you’d be good at that.”

“Yeah?” Billy asks quietly, fiddling with the stray locks of hair behind Steve’s ear. He’s feeling...raw. Vulnerable. It’s a fragile state of being, one wrong word away from breaking. Or a few right words away from fucking bliss, but that never seems to be how it goes for him. 

“Yeah, even when we didn’t like each other I wondered. Annoyed the hell outta me.”

“Steve…” He pauses, choosing his words carefully, “I always liked you.”  If his heart wasn’t already racing, it sure would be now. He braces himself for the worst.

But it doesn’t come. There’s a pause. Steve’s fingers curl into the front of his shirt. “Oh.” He presses a chaste kiss to Billy’s lips, lingering, before chuckling lightly. “That explains a lot actually.”

Billy’s cheeks burn. Yeah, he supposes it would. “You’re not...freaked out?” he ventures, hesitant. 

“Mm, nope.” He reaches up, brushes a stray curl out of Billy’s face. “Definitely okay with this.”

I love you.

The thought doesn’t shock him but the desire to say it out loud does. The way it lodges itself in his throat and sticks. He hasn’t said it to anyone—hasn’t wanted to say it to anyone—since his mother left. The precedent is intimidating, but…

Steve smells like honey and clean air, laying in bed with Billy, warm and pliant next to him tracing patterns in Billy’s scars, his gaze is fond, his smile is soft, and...and Billy’s in love.

He swallows. Pushes it down for now. 

He kisses Steve again. Slower. A gentle press of mouths, and another. Takes his time deepening it, teasing with his tongue. He waits for Steve to pull away, to decide that this thing is one thing too far, but it never happens. Steve lets him escalate, and gives as good as he gets. 

They’re both breathless and flushed and Billy’s riding high on the bubbling warmth in his chest, lightheaded from it. He slides his leg over Steve’s, straddling his thigh, pressing down, seeking friction. 

He shifts, rocking forward a little, and Steve moans, low and deep right in Billy’s ear.

They both freeze. Steve’s breath coming in ragged little bursts against the side of Billy’s face. 

“Pretty boy, as much as I’d love to hear more of that, no one else in the house does.”

“Jesus christ.”

“No need to bring him into it.”

“Shut up,” Steve laughs and buries his face in Billy’s shoulder. “Just give me a minute.”

“Aw, I get you all riled up, baby?” 

Steve slides a hand down, down, and palms Billy’s cock, drawing a short gasp from him. “Yes.”

They stay entangled the rest of the night, dozing in and out of consciousness, Steve pressing the occasional sleepy kiss to Billy’s collarbone. And...Billy’s not sure what will happen after tonight, but he knows it’ll be easier to deal with if he gets to keep this. Whatever this is. He doesn’t have the heart to ask, not yet, but for the first time in a while, he has hope.

[lavenderglassgirl]

749 pm tues dec 10

I was thinking about self harming this evening, considering it. Considering what i could do in lieu of it. Thinking about my parents. It reminded me of something

I remember when my mom found all my cutting supplies one time she searched my room. I had a bag full of blood soaked paper towels and my journal with the blade i used taped inside. My mom found the bag and asked me what i used to cut with. I showed her the blade, and she got so mad because it was rusted. I got a lecture because it could have killed me. I went to therapy and I don’t think i got grounded, i may have already been grounded at this point too I don’t recall. THis was sometime in middle school so chances were high that i was. But regardless, I didn’t get into any more trouble for this, yet I remember feeling like i was. I remember feeling like my parents were angry at me, they didn’t trust me, they were ashamed of me, they felt i was being over dramatic, just an emotional teenager.

I was talking to Scott today, NPD fresh on my mind from some research for Jesse (will get to that aha) and i went over my lack of privacy. They read my diary when i was 16, brought it to my while i was in the hospital for suicidal ideation. As part of the leaving process for this facility which i was desperately trying to leave (nothing spurs your will to live than prison- er mental health facilities) I was told that i had a session with my therapist (who i had had one 30 minute conversation with) and my parents, whom she had advised per program protocol to search my room. So they searched. They pulled out the half smoked blunt and i got some generic mark lecture about drugs and his house and this that and the other, and words from Laura regarding how it impaires your brain growth and depression and blah blah. Of course what they didn’t bring up was that after this session they would both go home to smoke it off while i went back to my plastic cot where i was allowed to keep a book and my blanket and a pillow from home. After i spent Christmas surrounded by strangers who treated me kinder than my parents in a place that felt like a prison.

And they read my journal. They pulled quotes like it was fucking Shakespeare- we don’t understand why you hate him so much, we don’t understand, we think youre using this as a way to make yourself more upset, we think this is too triggering, were not giving it back.

They kept my diary. My mom had it in the back of her drawer for a long time before i had the nerve to ask for it back, maybe a couple years.

Do you wanna know how they justified all this? What started it?

My biological father got in contact with me again after my 17th birthday. He got the date wrong and I’m pretty sure he thought i was 18 and that’s why he did it. He found my number on facebook, and texted me some bullshit.

My parents allowed me to have a relationship with him- on their terms. I was texting him too late into the night, and too much at school. It was not to interfere with sleep or my school work.

Why? Because my parents didn’t want my grades to slip. No, not because it was causing any actual problems. I was doing really well in my classes, they were just watching my texts and keeping tabs on when i was texting him. They told him and me the same thing, and the next day he texted me while i was between classes and i messaged him back during my free periods, lunch, etc. Genuinely following the heart of the rule which I hadn’t before (i snuck my phone during class) and figuring it would be fine.

Got home, Mark asks if i talked to Eric (should have known he knew) said no, he said i have proof of 36 messages, give me your phone. Really? Yeah.

I handed it over and v o w e d to not say a single word to my parents. It was almost Christmas, and i was grounded for an indefinite amount of time (i think they sat me down after and justified it somehow and i got a month. A month. For texting my biological father. Lmao) They were concerned about our relationship but rather than addressing their concerns in a valid way i just got punished for continuing it. SO i was completely silent for two days. I figured 1) there wasn’t a damn thing they could do to make things worse. They’ve already taken everything before, and i usually cave and kiss ass for the last three weeks because it makes my life more pleasant and fuck them they did not deserve that for this and 2) if they were going to not let me talk to Eric i sure as shit wasn’t going to let them hear from me.

The head came when my mom wrote some trash apology letter to me (i wish i still had it but i shredded it as soon as i read it) that was really an attack on me disguised as an apology that she took no real accountability in. I felt so disgusting, so alone, i saw no way out. Genuinely in that moment i wanted to bleed out in my tub and i wanted Laura to find me. I took a shower and sliced my wrists, a lot. Not the long way, but deeper than i ever had, more than i ever had, and with every intention of getting to that point. I sat in the shower for a long while just watching my wrists bleed and then just kind of came to. THere was this brief panic that over took me and i went into my room and dressed in my giant sweats and sweatshirt and she came in and I showed her my wrists and we went to the er and i got hospitalized.

Yes, i was still grounded when i got out of the hospital. They gave me one day that we celebrated Christmas then they took all my presents until my grounding was done.

This is on par with my 18th birthday. I’m trying to remember why i was grounded this time. Probably weed. I got really smart about almost everything, and i feel like weed was one of them... I had my own car so it wasn’t fucking up theirs... I genuinely W I S H i could remember but honestly I don’t even know. But i was mid grounding on my birthday and they gave me my present, and then left me alone all night, so i figured out how to assemble it myself and cried most of the time.

They grounded me for a month for shaving half my head. They also came into my room while I was sleeping to shave the other half of my head. I refused. They haven’t ever crossed a physical barrier. I would have had them then. I think they might have known that...

I feel broken. Like, a scratched DVD. Like i feel like I’m just skipping at the part where i figure out how to process this shit.

It’s hard its really really hard. I mean talking about it makes it less hard, and I’m glad i was able to talk to Scott. He didn’t seem to really get it until i told him about the diary thing. It’s different for everyone, the part that makes it click when i share my story. It’s usually something they understand personally for one reason or another.

But its hard. I don’t think anyone really gets it, like I don’t think this sort of stuff is fit for conversation with anyone but trained professionals and myself.

My finger hurts and my tummy hurts i think because i had soda and I wanna be more stoned but i also just... wanna not. I thought writing a little might help me feel better but its just making more depressed.

I guess that’s the mood.

Jesses going into a really rough period. He’s having a really really hard time, and just i wish I were in a better space for him. I so so wish i was better at handling my jelousy and insecurities. I’m just trying to feel good about myself. I’m trying to be supportive and kind. I just want to be open and honest. I just want to be helpful and useful. And i know i am those things really often but right now i feel like a nagging annoying ugly morbid monster with a rotting smile and scaley skin and two bellies like a fucking cow. I know i know i know it doesn’t matter if i do but like... it feel like that on the inside. I feel like, there’s just nothing i can do to fill that void, like i feel purposeless right now i guess. I don’t know why I’m here I don’t know what I’m doing nothing makes me feel full i just feel like I’m distracting myself from the empty and i know i know i know i just need to keep pushing forward and taking care of myself but sometime i just don’t want to. I wonder who I’m doing to for.

It should be for me but often i feel like I’m living just because there’s nothing else to do. ANd that’s true but its not a great way to feel. It keeps me going. I know ill get to the good moments again, and probably a lot sooner than i think. I’m just still having a hard time. I’m still struggling to process. I still need to find a therapist among a million other things.

My stomach really hurts UGH.

I wish i had more to share but I don’t. I just hurt and everything is making me sad and I’m just GAH

I wish i knew something to try I wish i had something new i wish there was a way to turn it off for like ten minutes to just remember what it feels like to exist.

AND NOW MY HEAD HURTS

Boi. Ruin m e

In conclusion, i really want to kill myself, but i wont, i really want to cut myself, but i wont, and I’m really sad and i want more coping skills and some serotonin.

Goodnight 😴

[noahhernandez]

I’m OLD and bored 8/7/2020

1.Is there a boy/girl in your life? No!  2:Think of the last person who hurt you; do you forgive them? If it is Pajak then no i do not <3  3:What do you think of when you hear the word “meow?” A cat, and oddly enough Cardi B 4:What’s something you really want right now? A stable job that I like :)  5:Are you afraid of falling in love? No, but I don’t want to. Relationships are soul sucking and not in the fun way. 6:Do you like the beach? No i do not like the beach one bit. Well, I like being in a beach house but I don’t like getting in the water. 7:Have you ever slept on a couch with someone else? Yes I have  8:What’s the background on your cell? It is the scene in Hereditary where he husband is on fire 9:Name the last four beds you were sat on? Mine, Emily’s, Bri’s, lol I don’t really know um  ? Probably like my aunts when I lived with her 10:Do you like your phone? Yes it work 11:Honestly, are things going the way you planned? NO! I wanted to have a fun summer and look for another job and think about studying for Grad School and etc etc but I was JOBLESS for FOUR months and bc of COVID we cant do a DAMn thing 12:Who was the last person whose phone number you added to your contacts? I have absolutely no idea probably like.. ? I don’t know lol 13:Would you rather have a poodle or a Rottweiler? Rottweiler 14:Which hurts the most, physical or emotional pain? Emotional pain, lol it’s funny bc my last answer said physical I have grown up so much  15:Would you rather visit a zoo or an art museum? Art Museum 16:Are you tired? Physically yes lol 17:How long have you known your 1st phone contact? For 16 years because it’s my little sister 18:Are they a relative? omg yes 19:Would you ever consider getting back together with any of your exes? NO ! well maybe 1.  20:When did you last talk to the last person you shared a kiss with? I have no idea bitch !  21:If you knew you had the right person, would you marry them today? no 22:Would you kiss the last person you kissed again? no  23:How many bracelets do you have on your wrists right now? 3 24:Is there a certain quote you live by? no!  25:What’s on your mind? literally nothing its kind of nice like not thinking 26:Do you have any tattoos? Yes, I have a sleeve so a total of like 9 tattoos i think idk 27:What is your favorite color? black 28:Next time you will kiss someone on the lips? Hell if I know 29:Who are you texting? Nobody bc Emily and Janett are at work and Bri (F.) is simply not texting me 30:Think to the last person you kissed, have you ever kissed them on a couch? yes 31:Have you ever had the feeling something bad was going to happen and you were right? Yeah of course its called  i know things bitch 32:Do you have a friend of the opposite sex you can talk to? Ya of course i can tell michelle faith bri emily and janett everything  33:Do you think anyone has feelings for you? u know probably not 34:Has anyone ever told you you have pretty eyes? my eyes are dark brown lol so no 35:Say the last person you kissed was kissing someone right in front of you? i dont care 36:Were you single on Valentines Day? yes !  37:Are you friends with the last person you kissed? I honestly dont know the last person I kissed like i dont know if it was michelle or not lmao 38:What do your friends call you? Noah 39:Has anyone upset you in the last week? No  ! 40:Have you ever cried over a text? Probably ! Yes when I was told “sorry noah i cheated on you last night” like who TEXTS that LMFAO anyways I cried 41:Where’s your last bruise located? hand from work 42:What is it from? oh from work 43:Last time you wanted to be away from somewhere really bad? Bitch i want to die 44:Who was the last person you were on the phone with? leann  45:Do you have a favourite pair of shoes? my dr. martens theyre like 2 inch platforms lmao 46:Do you wear hats if your having a bad hair day? No lol 47:Would you ever go bald if it was the style? no omg 48:Do you make supper for your family? ew hell no i live ALONE 49:Does your bedroom have a door? omg yes  50:Top 3 web-pages? Facebook, Twitter, Youtube 51:Do you know anyone who hates shopping? Um, no all my friends shop about an average amount 52:Does anything on your body hurt? My back and my feet!!  53:Are goodbyes hard for you? They were sometimes. Sometimes it do be sucking when u say goodbye but didnt know it was the last :( 54:What was the last beverage you spilled on yourself? I had the sudden memory of last summer when I fell down the stairs at work and spilled coffee all over myself and had to change 55:How is your hair? Short and not combed at the slightest 56:What do you usually do first in the morning? Pee! !!  57:Do you think two people can last forever? nope!  58:Think back to January 2007, were you single? I was 10 59:Green or purple grapes? Green 60:When’s the next time you will give someone a BIG hug? um honestly i have no idea lmao we arent allowed to hug each other in these tough times!  61:Do you wish you were somewhere else right now? no !  62:When will be the next time you text someone? I am texting Angel rn actually 63:Where will you be 5 hours from now? Asleep 64:What were you doing at 8 this morning. dead ass asleep 65:This time last year, can you remember who you liked? Nope !  66:Is there one person in your life that can always make you smile? this is gay yes all my friends but only because they are funny not because I enjoy seeing them 67:Did you kiss or hug anyone today? I did not hug anyone or kiss anyone today!! ! 68:What was your last thought before you went to bed last night? i literally was struggling so hard to go to sleep last night so I was probably really frustrated 69:Have you ever tried your hardest and then gotten disappointed in the end? yes on taking exams normally except my last like ... 2 years of college were phenomenal   70:How many windows are open on your computer? 4- amazon, youtube, CBS and this 71:How many fingers do you have? 10 72:What is your ringtone? like the original one 73:How old will you be in 5 months? 24 LOL  74:Where is your Mum right now? Honestly I have no fucking idea lmao 75:Why aren’t you with the person you were first in love with or almost in love?  because they cheated on me, they were very toxic and manipulative and uncaring and i dealt with it for a long ass time and it literally going to kill me if I kept it up. Dealt with bad anxiety, depression, suicidal ideation, I wasn’t eating, and I had to start taking medication and see therapy because of it literally it was the worst shit ever  76:Have you held hands with somebody in the past three days? No 77:Are you friends with the people you were friends with two years ago? Let me think of some- yes. Faith, Peter, Michelle, Bri, Emily, Janett, Angel, Anissa, I’ll still consider Keyla my friend too hehe .  78:Do you remember who you had a crush on in year 7? some guy named Chris 79:Is there anyone you know with the name Mike? No 80:Have you ever fallen asleep in someones arms? yes and I hated it

81:How many people have you liked in the past three months? 0 82:Has anyone seen you in your underwear in the last 3 days? no lol 83:Will you talk to the person you like tonight? no!  84:You’re drunk and yelling at hot guys/girls out of your car window, you’re with? Definitely MICHELLE and PETER. I would ask Bri and Emily to please not let me get that drunk 85:If your BF/GF was into drugs would you care? yes 86:What was the most eventful thing that happened last time you went to see a movie? I literally work at a movie theater an nothing cool happens like the last almost 6 years of working there have been boring 87:Who was your last received call from? Leann asking me where my nametag was at in my car 88:If someone gave you $1,000 to burn a butterfly over a candle, would you? um yes 89:What is something you wish you had more of? money !! $$$ 90:Have you ever trusted someone too much?  ya it was some dumb ass shit !  91:Do you sleep with your window open? hell no i live in southeast houston is too fucking humid and hot for that shit i will get mold 92:Do you get along with girls? yeah lmao 93:Are you keeping a secret from someone who needs to know the truth? i dont even know i dont think so 94:Does sex mean love? hell no!  95:You’re locked in a room with the last person you kissed, is that a problem? nope!   96:Have you ever kissed anyone with a lip ring? ew no those are trashy 97:Did you sleep alone this week? yes lol :( 98:Everybody has somebody that makes them happy, do you? my friends what kind of dumb ass question is this  99:Do you believe in love at first sight?  no !  100:Who was the last person that you pinky promise?  nobody ! if anything I smokey sweared with Michelle like 23 years ago