#thanks for the request nonnie! i love me some post-starcourt feels 💜💜💜

[hartigays]

How about #9 as a prompt, please? Maybe something post Starcourt??

9.  “I missed you so much.”

every second leading up to steve knocking on the apartment door that looms before him was, initially, filled with excitement. but now that steve is finally here, soon to be face-to-face with the person who’s only lived in his dreams for the past year and a half, he hesitates.

it’s just nerves, but it feels like it’s eating away at steve’s core. leaving him exposed and raw, like a nerve.

what if things are different? what if nothing feels the same? what if steve’s dreams are better than reality? there are too many questions in need of answers. but steve doesn’t have the luxury of taking another few months to figure them out.

so he knocks.

steve takes a deep breath, steeling himself. willing his hands to stop shaking and his heart to stop feeling like it’s beating in his throat. it takes a moment, but finally he hears the sound of distant footsteps, growing closer and closer until the door swings open.

it isn’t billy. steve doesn’t know whether he should feel relieved, or concerned.

“you must be steve,” the woman in the doorway says, giving steve a dazzling smile.

it’s then that steve is confronted with recognition. she has the same smile as billy, the same bright blue eyes and sharp jawline.

she has to be billy’s mother, sandy. the person steve knows only through stories and shared memories. the person who had to leave billy behind years ago, when neil fought dirty for custody and painted her as some sort of evil criminal, stripping her of her parental rights.

billy is 18 now. billy can live with whoever the fuck he wants. billy is here, now, in california. and this is billy’s mother, the person he never should’ve been taken from, giving steve a smile bright enough to rival the sun.

steve isn’t expecting the swell of emotion that bubbles up inside of him. it has him surging forward, flinging his arms around the woman that he’d met mere seconds ago.

it’s a thank you, of sorts. a thank you for coming back, for welcoming billy back into her home, for giving billy a safe place to rest his head while he heals and recovers after the trauma and near-death of starcourt.

for letting billy love whoever he wants, and for letting steve stay here in her home, just for a little while, to love him right back.

“sorry,” steve says when he pulls away, clearing his throat. he wipes his eyes on the back of his hand, stepping back. “didn’t mean to bombard you like that.”

“come in, sweetheart. let’s get you something to drink,” is all sandy says, stepping aside to let steve in. “billy’s just hopped in the shower, he won’t be long.”

steve doesn’t say it, but he’s grateful for the extra time to collect himself. he’d turned into a blubbering mess after speaking little more than two words to billy’s mother - he doesn’t need to fall apart the minute billy walks through the door.

billy has had enough to deal with. it’s the least steve can do to not turn into a gigantic crybaby today.

“was the flight okay?” sandy asks from where she’s rummaging around in the fridge. she returns with a bottle of water a moment later, and steve accepts it gratefully.

“oh, yeah. it was fine,” steve tells her, his leg jiggling nervously. he’s seated at one of the barstools at the kitchen counter, his elbows resting on the cool marble. “getting a cab here from the airport was the hardest part.”

sandy chuckles, nodding. “i imagine so. sounds like your flight came in at one of the busiest times of the day.”

steve just smiles. he picks at the label on his water bottle, trying to come up with something to say. nothing seems to fit, but in the end he goes with, “i, uh. i want to thank you for letting me stay here for a bit. with billy, and - um. and stuff. i know that it’s not - it’s not usual. but i appreciate it a lot.”

“everything and nothing is usual. it’s just a matter of perspective, or circumstance,” sandy says. she huffs out a soft laugh when steve just blinks. “billy can love whoever he wants. it doesn’t bother me one bit - i just want my son to be happy. i think you and i are alike in that respect.”

“has he been?” steve asks, relief flooding through him, warm and comforting. “happy, i mean?”

“he’s been well. healing. he misses you, though. i think he mentions it about five times a day,” sandy says, a small smile playing on her lips. “writing to you has helped him take some important steps in his recovery.”

“i’ve kept them all, the letters. didn’t know if i’d ever get to come out here,” steve explains, his voice soft. “it was nice to have that little piece of him while he was gone.”

“not gone, just a little out of reach.”

steve whirls around at the sound of billy’s voice, accidentally knocking his water bottle onto the floor in the process. it spills all over the counter and the hardwood, and steve curses.

“shit- i mean, sorry, that wasn’t- i didn’t mean to do that,” steve says, rushing to find something to soak up the water with.

sandy just shakes her head, resting a hand on his shoulder. “go on, i’ll take care of this. it’s just water, honey, don’t worry about it.”

billy is standing in the entrance to the hallway, leaning against the wall with a fond smile on his face. steve gives sandy a grateful look, before moving around the counter to put himself directly in front of billy.

it isn’t until they’re in billy’s room, with the door cracked at sandy’s request, that steve pounces. he has billy in his arms in a split-second, burying his face in billy’s hair and breathing in deep.

“i missed you so much,” steve mumbles, his voice muffled and strands of billy’s hair getting stuck to his tongue.

“missed you too, princess.”

billy smells like the beach. like coconut shampoo and sunscreen and saltwater, even after his shower. he’s squeezing steve tightly, and steve knows it means that billy has missed him just as much.

they stand there for a long time, holding each other. it doesn’t feel right to speak, so neither of them do. they just cling to each other like their each other’s lifelines, their hearts beating in sync.

“do you want to sit down?” billy asks after a while, rubbing soothing circles onto steve’s back.

“no, i want- ” steve stops short, pulling back just enough to look into billy’s eyes.

then, he’s kissing billy with enough force to make them both sway a little. billy nearly topples over and steve eases up, but their lips never separate. steve kisses billy desperately, chasing the taste of weed and nicotine and toothpaste on his tongue. billy kisses him back just as desperately, one hand grabbing a fistful of steve’s hair, the other holding steve steady by the small of his back.

“you know, we could’ve done that sitting down,” billy says when they break apart, panting just as hard as steve. but he’s grinning from ear to ear, and steve is suddenly struck by just how much he looks like his mom.

“didn’t want to wait,” steve murmurs, leaning in to press another kiss to billy’s lips, this one quick, but tender.

then steve pulls away, taking a moment to look around the room. he’d been in billy’s room in hawkins once before when neil was out of town, but it’d felt like it belonged to someone else. there were posters of women in bikinis everywhere, playboys stacked on almost every surface, beer cans crushed and tossed around the room, almost like they were staged that way.

here, steve feels like he’s resting comfortably in billy’s mind. there are still posters hung up, but they’re of the movies steve knows are billy’s favorites. billy’s got two big bookshelves, filled top to bottom with worn books that have steve’s lips twitching into a soft smile when he spots them.

there’s also a hell of a lot of art all over the place, hanging on his walls and even tacked up on his ceiling. all pieces steve knows billy painted or drew himself, because whenever he and billy were alone, billy’s nose would always be buried in some sketchbook or another. he’s always struck by billy’s talent, rendered speechless at the depth to it all.

steve spots a small drawing resting on billy’s nightstand, propped up against his lamp. it’s a simple piece done in black ink, but steve can’t see what it’s of until he steps closer. his breath catches in his throat when he sees that it’s a sketch of him, perched on the hood of the beemer, smiling with a cigarette in hand.

“you drew me?” steve asks, picking up the drawing and cradling it delicately in his hands.

“i draw you a lot,” billy says, shrugging. he comes up behind steve and wraps his arms around his middle, hooking his chin over steve’s shoulder. “i can show you the rest later, but first you have to let me draw you again. it’s been a while.”

billy doesn’t let steve go, but he does maneuver around him to open the drawer of his nightstand, pulling out a faded polaroid. it’s the photo billy’s drawing is based on, and the memory of the night it was taken hits steve like a train.

they’d been out at the quarry, drinking beer and smoking, shooting the shit. the sun was starting to set, and steve knew they were days away from graduating and everything was about change. he remembers his heart feeling so heavy he thought it might fall right out of him. but billy had been all smiles, staring at steve as he leaned up against the beemer, the sun setting behind him.

billy had said something stupid to make steve laugh, and the moment steve smiled billy had taken the shot. the memory has steve smiling down at the polaroid, his smile a little watery.

“i can’t believe you kept this,” steve says, twisting a little in billy’s hold to try and look at him. “it feels like this was so long ago.”

“i carry it around everywhere,” billy tells him, pressing a gentle kiss to steve’s shoulder. “carry these in my wallet, too.”

billy digs in his pocket and pulls out his wallet, producing a torn photo strip. it’s from the time they’d taken pictures in the photobooth at starcourt, before all the pain and devastation that came soon after. the booth had only printed one set, so billy took half, and steve took the other.

“i ever tell you that you’re kind of a softie?” steve jokes.

billy huffs a soft laugh, unwinding himself from around steve so he can take his hand and pull him towards the bed. he flops backwards onto it, and pats the spot next to him. steve curls up next to him immediately, resting his head on billy’s chest.

steve hears the click of billy’s lighter, and smells the smoke soon after. the window behind them is cracked, and steve can only hear the sound of the ocean crashing against the shore, seagulls, and billy’s soft breathing. he passes steve the cigarette a moment later and steve accepts it gratefully, taking a long drag.

“how long can you stay?” billy asks after several beats of silence, taking the cigarette from steve’s outstretched hand.

“‘bout a week. that’s all they’d let me take off,” steve sighs. “wish i could stay forever.”

“wish you could too,” billy says, his voice almost inaudible.

steve tilts his head up, pressing a kiss to the underside of billy’s jaw. “one day. i promise. i’ll be here to stay.”

billy just combs his fingers through steve’s hair, humming softly. they end up falling asleep like that once the cigarette is finished, dozing off to the sounds of the ocean and the city, the evening breeze ruffling their hair. but not before steve looks up at billy one last time, struck dumb by how much he loves him.

and for the first time in a long time, everything just feels right.