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sipsthytea · 3 months

Text

Glimpse of Us

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Billy Hargrove

Warnings: Hurt/no comfort, angst, Major Character Death

Word Count: 3,647

Status: Complete

It was so far-fetched, Steve knows.

Dear God, he knows.

Trying so desperately to find it - to find him - in the iris of some unassuming date. It was unfair and selfish, to both himself and whoever was that night's victim. But Steve Harrington would do anything, anything, to see - even if it's only a glimpse of Billy Hargrove.

Sometimes he will.

In the darkness, with the shadows passing over his room, drawing across the walls, he can smell the smoke of a cigar. Floating just above him, lulling his body to sleep, entrapping his mind in a dreamless abysse. He can feel the burning heat of a Californian body lying beside him, running calloused fingertips across his arms, searing patterns into his skin. In his mind's eye, just beyond the endless nothingness, he can see the coil of blonde hair - beautiful in its wild nature.

Beautiful.

Sometimes he won't.

Nothing will come to him. Nothing will wrap around him, guide him into the rest that pulls at his eyes. Nothing to aid the ache in his heart. He'll lay there, staring at his ceiling fan as it spins, eyes following the blades, and beg for Billy to find him. He'll beg himself into insanity, beg himself to tears. Beg until he feels that he might just implode. On nights like those it hurts the most. Trying to soothe the hurt of being alone again, lost in the wood of his empty house, wide awake on cool sheets. He tries to imagine the smell of sea salt or the movement of a Saint Christopher necklace.

He tries.

But it evades him.

Cruel.

Unbelievably cruel.

So he draws himself up, forcing himself through the cold night air. Steve tugs on the stray clothing he finds, running trembling hands through his hair. He throws himself into his car. Knuckle whitening grip on the steering wheel, guilt burning in his stomach.

He knows he shouldn't do this, knows that this is nothing more than a shot in the dark. But Steve also knows that his entire being prays that the shot will land. That he'll see Billy. His Billy.

He has to try.

__________

She's pretty.

Long blonde hair, curling around her lean shoulders, sea-blue eyes fanned by her golden eyelashes. The apples of her cheeks rest high on her face, sharp and beautiful. The curve of her cupid's bow leads to the fullness of her lips, dusted with lipstick and coated with shiny lip gloss. She is truly beautiful.

She introduces herself as Bianca, offering him a well-manicured hand with a breathy giggle. She rests her chin on the palm of her hand, smiling at him, and Steve wastes no time. He leans in closer, ordering her a drink, and breathes in the intoxicating scent of her perfume.

It doesn't smell of the beach - smelling of peaches and cinnamon - but Steve thinks that it's close enough.

He asks her if she smokes.

"Doesn't everyone?" She responds with another giggle, this one toppling over the bustling noise of Steve's thoughts, "Do you?"

He shakes his head, "No," He looks down at his hands before flickering his eyes back up to her, "But I love the smell."

A blush arises on her sharp cheeks and Steve knows he's got her.

__________

He feels guilty; terrible.

But he doesn't feel guilty enough to push her away as she kisses him, her body pressed against his. He can feel the curve of her breasts, the movement of her tongue against his own. She's practically biting at his lips, smearing her lipstick across his cupid's bow, but it's perfect.

Messy.

Guilty.

"Come on, Pretty Boy, you scared?"

No, this is perfect.

She pulls away and they both gasp for air. Her blond bangs have fallen in her eyes, obscuring her face enough to have Steve snatching her back for another kiss. His hands work down her jean jacket, practically yanking it from her shoulders. The band t-shirt she wears beneath it makes Steve angry.

It isn't Metalica.

"Always gotta be Metalica, baby."

It's wrong.

Bianca wraps her arms around his head, pulling closer, grinding her body down upon his. Her lips work furiously against his own, and Steve feels lightheaded as he's devoured.

It's fine. It's good enough.

It is good enough. Good enough for Steve to push her onto the bed, watching as she bounces against the mattress. She's already working the hem of her skirt, shimmying out of it. Truthfully, Steve doesn't care to see the rest of her body, doesn't care to see the miles of her legs or the curve of her ass, but he still utters out a single.

"You're beautiful..."

She smiles at him and helps him pull his shirt over his head. He can feel her skin upon his and he's blazing. Burning from the inside out. It's nearly enough. Her nails scratch against him, drawing lines across his shoulder blades and outlining his ribs. The sting is nearly good enough to make him cry. Nearly enough to make him lose himself in the throes of her hand shoved down his underwear, pulling him from the restraints of the fabric. It's nearly enough to make him burst in her hand. Nearly enough to make him cry out a name as he enters her.

Nearly.

Nothing but nearly.

It's never -

"Steve!" She cries, rocking back into him as he grinds forward into her, her legs locked behind his back. The bite of her nails in his skin, tears bubbling in her eyes. Steve stares into her face, watching as her eyes roll back, mouth dropping open. Beads of sweat follow the smooth contours of her body, traveling down the valley of her breasts, down the heaving of her stomach.

She's beautiful.

"Steve!"

Her eyes find him.

The black of her pupil has engulfed most of the blue, but Steve can still see a sliver of the sea, beautifully blue.

"Steve!"

Steve sees Billy. Just a glimpse, a sharp pass of his groaning figure in the darkness of his room. He sees Billy's smile and his mouth and his lips and his eyes. Steve sees Billy in Bianca's eyes as she cums, clenching hard around him

"Steve!"

Steve hears Billy.

"Steve."

"Fuck."

Steve throws himself against her, burying his face into the crook of her neck, and cums. Biting hard on his lips to keep him from whimpering out, "Billy."

__________

Bianca was wonderful.

Kind and smart

She was practically perfect.

"Where did you meet her again?" Dustin asks, looking at him through furrowed eyebrows.

Steve had run into the little shit crew - or what was left of it - on one of their dates.

"Does it matter?" He hissed, rolling his eyes.

The questions made him uncomfortable. Made him feel like they could see right through him as if everyone could see his selfishness. They could see his lies, the feelings in his chest. Feelings that weren't for her.

"I guess not," Dustin shrugged.

__________

Steve bought Bianca cigarettes.

Always Marlboro Reds.

At first, she thanked him with every pack, looking at him with the same easy smile she gave him that night. But soon, she begins to take them with skepticism, "You sure do love the smell of smoke, huh?"

He smiles at her, trying to hide the drop of his stomach, "I do."

She doesn't say much else, only drawing a white cigarette from the fresh pack. As she fishes her lighter from her pocket, holding the stick between her lips, her blue eyes find him. He sees it again. With the click of her lighter and the strike of a flame, Steve sees Billy. Dancing in the brightness of the afternoon, hanging in the muggy air. Steve sees Billy Hargrove in the ocean of Bianca's eyes.

Bianca blinks.

"I think I might quit," She says, blowing out a puff of smoke.

Billy's gone.

__________

Steve doesn't fight her as she struggles to quit. He doesn't aid her either. Cursing into his palm when she updates him on her achievements, telling him of two days, then a week, then a month. He hadn't even begun to realize that that much time had passed.

The guilt sits in his stomach heavier than ever.

On her birthday - that Steve forgot was her birthday - she sleeps over. One of her friends had thrown a small get-together for her. There'd been drinking and no sign of cigarettes. Steve had confetti in his hair, silly string on his shirt as he drove them back to his house. She looked over at him drunkenly, a sated smile on her face.

Her hands crawled beneath his clothes, finding his belt buckle. She ducked down below the steering wheel, and Steve lay his head back against the headrest. The pleasure that shoots up his veins makes him curl his fists. He glances down at her, but only finds the mess of her golden hair. He lets his hand fall down into the strands, imagining the coils that are supposed to be there.

He leans back, a groan rising in his throat, watching through heavy lids in the darkness of his car. His rearview mirror is empty, only dully reflecting the shining light of the moon back on them.

"You look good, pretty boy," A voice purrs, Steve looks back, eyes staring into the glass.

There, looking as alive as ever, Billy Hargrove rests. Legs spread open across the backseat, sitting like the fucker that he is. Billy cocks his head to the left, swiping his tongue across his teeth.

"You look so pretty like that, Stevie, down her throat," He continues, and Steve thinks that he might be going crazy, but he lets his eyes slip shut.

"Oh, no, baby," Billy tsks, "Eyes on me."

Steve obeyed with no hesitation.

"Good boy."

Steve shudders and tightens his grip on Bianca's hair, she gags. He couldn't care less.

"Does that feel good, Steve?"

He doesn't know who's asking, but his answer is the same regardless, 'No,' He nearly says, 'Not good enough.'

But he doesn't have to, Billy answers for him, "I know it doesn't. Not like me, right?"

Steve shakes his head, never like Billy. Bianca begins to pull up, a lewd pop following her movements, but Steve can only push her back down.

"Let go for me, Pretty Boy," Billy's eyes are shining, such a daring blue, such a tantalizing blue, "Let go."

Steve comes with a loud groan, quickly releasing Bianca's hair and catching his fist in his mouth. He bites into his flesh and can hardly suppress the sound of Billy's name leaving his lips.

Bianca comes back up coughing, massaging her throat, "I don't think I've ever seen you that excited," She giggles, but it melts into another coughing fit.

He chuckles breathlessly, still lost in the clouds.

He pulls her in for a kiss, and his eyes look back up to the mirror.

But once again, Billy's gone.

Steve breaks the kiss and tugs her upstairs.

Hope in his heart, and guilt sitting heavy in his stomach.

__________

As she sleeps, Steve is restless. The sound of her soft breathing should be enough to lull him to sleep; the heat of her body should be enough to trick him.

But it isn't.

He lies wide awake, staring at the emptiness of his ceiling, eyes following the ceiling fan.

Steve knows, he knows that he's only passing time beside her. He doesn't love her, doesn't think that he ever will. She's nearly perfect - no, she is perfect - but he still can't think of anything but Billy. Can't see anyone but Billy.

He's tried, tried to fall for the gentleness of her kiss, or her touch, but it's not right.

It's not Billy.

It'll never be Billy.

Billy's gone.

The bitterness of his thoughts makes tears burn in his eyes, a lump rising in his throat. He's lost and alone, the guilt eating at him. He's selfish but he's still human, there's only so much lying he can do.

She suddenly turns, throwing her leg over his body, wrapping her arms around his torso, "Go to sleep..." She mumbles, nuzzling into his chest.

"Go to sleep, Pretty Boy..."

Steve has to suppress the sob that nearly leaves his lips. He clings to her for the night, trying to savor the smell of cigarettes that has begun to die on her skin.

__________

Robin looks at him like he's an idiot. Something he fully expected.

"You're doing what?"

"Dating Bianca."

She shakes her head, placing a hand on the counter, "No, no, I got that, but you're dating Bianca Delmore?"

"Bianca," He confirms, the video store had been pretty slow, so Steve had nothing to save him from the questions.

"Why Bianca?"

"She's pretty and smart," He shrugs, trying to avoid the burning glare of Robin's eyes, "I don't know! I just like her."

"You like her?"

"I like her."

She stares on for a few moments more and Steve knows that she knows he's bullshitting, she can see it - can see right through him - but he doesn't budge. He wasn't ready to let go, not quite yet. Her eyes narrow on him, and he begins to fidget, she knows.

"Alright, I guess."

But she relents.

Steve breathes out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding in.

__________

It's the anniversary.

July 4.

The fireworks that pop in the sky make Steve jump. He's never really been one to care too much about celebrating America, but he'd always been one to go out to the parties. Bianca had been trying to convince him to go out more, claiming that he, "Needed the sun!"

It made him roll his eyes.

He just didn't want to go out, not tonight. He couldn't tonight. It was too hard.

"Steve!" He heard Bianca's voice carry from downstairs.

Steve could only cringe, fighting another flinch as more fireworks popped outside his window. It painted the sky in beautiful light, illuminating the streets of Hawkins, but Steve couldn't stomach being outside. He hated being away from the beauty of tonight, from the joy of tonight, Dustin wanted him to come and watch the light show with the rest of the little shits, but he had declined. He hated the look that Dustin gave him, with a smile, saying, "It's ok, buddy."

"Steve?" Bianca's voice grew closer, her ascending footsteps trailing into his bedroom. He lay on his bed, an arm thrown over his eyes.

She stepped through the threshold of his door, the wood creaking beneath her feet, "Steve? Are you alright?"

He didn't answer her, trying to dissolve into the fabric of his sheets. He wanted nothing more than to disappear, than to float away into the nothingness. To melt into the wood of his bed frame, drip into the ground, and hide away. He wanted to be safe. Curled in his -

"Steve?" He felt her hand ghost over his elbow, a hardly there touch, but it made Steve shoot up. He looked at her with wild eyes.

She jumped back, nearly collapsing on his dresser.

The guilt burned in his stomach once more, but it was nothing compared to the erratic beating of his heart. He could feel it, nearly bursting from his ribcage, the fear hurt.

Bianca's ocean eyes were wide with surprise, holding her hands in front of her like a shield, gasping out, "Steve!?"

He landed on the floor and nearly fell back onto his bed, tiredness coiling within him. He looked up at her face, sad to see the makeup surrounding Bianca's eyes, or the twists in her hair. She was covered in glitter, shining as the fireworks cast a tantalizing light over her skin.

He hadn't realized he was panting until she whispered out, "It's ok...just breathe..."

And he did, Steve gasped. He sucked in the cold air of his room, trying to steady himself on his trembling legs. She only watched him, and he was sure that she was confused, probably disgusted. But she said nothing.

He fell back onto the mountain of his pillows, with a groan, and he could feel the tears on his cheeks before he knew he was crying. Could feel the salt roll down his face, falling onto his sheets, and the sobs building in his throat.

He was crying.

Sobbing.

Clinging to the sheets around him, threatening to snap the threads that connected the linen. His nails dug into the pillows surrounding him, he wanted to throw something. Throw anything. He wanted to curse the world for being so cruel, for taking something so precious from him. He wanted to -

"Steve," Bianca's voice was hardly above a whisper, "It's ok."

Suddenly, she was wrapped around him, pulling his head onto her chest, and he could hear her heartbeat. Calm, alive. He could hear the way her life drummed through her, the way it flowed into him. She rubbed soothing circles onto his back, tracing mindless patterns as he cried. The warmth that enveloped him only invited more tears, only pulled the sobs from the pits of his stomach.

She only held him.

Slowly rocking him as he pressed his wet face into her glittery skin. Her cheek pressed against his hair, and she whispered sweet nothings into the strands, laying kisses there for good measure.

Bianca held Steve as he emptied himself of emotions long built, as he emptied himself of his grief. Of his sadness. Of his mourning.

Mourning Billy.

She held him.

And Steve wanted her to.

"Will," He sucked in a shaky breath, "Will you stay?"

Her eyes were warm and kind, she nodded, "Of course, Steve."

__________

Bianca laid with him until his tears and sobs dissolved into drying cheeks and sniffles. She laid awake with him, even when he could see the push of sleep begin to take over, she was wide awake. And Steve stared, he stared into the never-ending blue of her eyes, wanting to cry every time she blinked. He clung to the strands of blonde hair that adorned her face, to the eyelashes that touched her cheeks.

Selfish.

Guilty.

When he had begun to calm, she tried probing the story out of him and when he refused she merely said, "Okay, whenever you're ready," and smiled.

He really was terrible.

And she really was perfect.

She just wanted him to be happy, just wanted to make him happy. Steve wanted that for her, but he knew why he was here with her. He knew why he had picked her that night, she had been what he was looking for.

Close enough.

Blond enough.

Blue-eyed enough.

Rough enough.

She had been enough to remind him of Billy. To look into her eyes and catch a glimpse of who he used to be, of who he used to be with Billy.

He reached for her hand in the darkness, pulling it close.

"I'm sorry," He muttered, feeling a new wave of tears burn in his eyes.

"Don't be," She didn't know what he was talking about, and didn't know to be angry with him. To feel used. Steve didn't tell her.

He only nodded and pressed a kiss to her skin. He dropped his head down, laying his cheek against her hand. She was perfect and he still couldn't love her, but perfect doesn't mean it's working.

There was nothing he could do.

Nothing he could say.

Steve sighed before looking back up. When he did, slowly going to catch himself in the blue of her eyes, Billy was there.

Laying across from him, a smirk on his lips. His Saint Christopher's necklace hangs over his tanned skin. Steve could feel the heat of Billy's hand against his own, the scratch of Billy's jeans across his legs. He felt so real.

"I've got you Steve," His voice was smooth, spilling from his lips and dropping Steve into the pits of his sadness once more. But he felt safe. He felt as if nothing could harm him, not with Billy here.

"I'll always be here."

Steve wasn't sure who was speaking, unsure if it was truly Billy or if his mind was erasing Bianca, but he could care less. To Steve, it would always be Billy.

"I'll be here."

He only nodded, not trusting his voice.

Silence pooled over them, and Steve nearly fell into the arms of sleep. With Billy beside him, Steve could trick himself into thinking that he would still be there when he awoke. That Billy would always be there.

That Billy was there to stay.

But it wasn't true.

It would never be true.

"Steve," Billy's voice called out to him, but it was distorted, melting in with another, "I - I love you, Steve."

Billy sounded nervous, almost scared. It was wrong, and it wasn't Billy.

But to Steve, it was.

It was good enough.

"I love you," He whispered back, "I have always loved you."

Billy squeezed his hand and smiled.

"I love you, Pretty Boy," Undeniably Billy.

"I love you, Steve."

"I love you," Steve didn't let himself finish, knowing that if he did it would shatter everything. But he looked into Billy's eyes, drinking in the days of California and planning their escape, and closed his eyes.

Steve let his eyes close before whispering out a final, "I love you."

When the words fell from his lips, he carefully opened his eyes once more, slowly adjusting to the darkness of his room.

He opened his eyes and there was Bianca, smiling back at him, a blush on her cheeks.

She looked so happy, so complete.

He blinked and there was Bianca.

He blinked once more and there was Bianca.

Kind. Sweet. Beautiful. Perfect.

But it's not what he wanted.

He wanted nothing more than to be with Billy.

He wanted Billy.

He would always want Billy.

_____________________