I Miss Him (fictional Character That I Can Rewatch Or Reread At Any Time I Want)

I’m not crying you are 🥲

billy hargrove + eddie munson similar aesthetic. different paths. same end.

both like rock music/metal heads, and use music as a form of escapism. both have big permed hair. both style themselves in layers of denim and leather. both live in the poorer end of town/trailer park. both don't fit in with the norm (metalhead newbie vs d&d nerd). both have had awful childhoods/home lives. both have a necklace they wear throughout that means something to them. both have a strange opposing friendship with steve.

both end up being used as a pawn by the upside down (billy, as a vessel, turned from a town bully into a monster by the upside down, and eddie framed for the murders the upside down has caused).

both sacrificed themselves for the group.

eddie was innocent of the upside down murders in season 4. billy was guilty of being a bully but innocent of the upside down actions of season 3.

billy sacrificed himself out of pain. he had nothing for him in the real world. he had become a monster, and had hurt everyone around him, so he sacrificed himself as a way of attempting to atone. eddie sacrificed himself out of pain. he had nothing for him in the real world, as the town saw him as a monster. and he blamed himself for running, so he sacrificed himself as a way to prove that he didn't always run.

and their deaths both absolutely destroyed their younger 'sibling'; max never recovered after billy's death and dustin is struggling at the end of season four after eddie's.

Me when rewatching Stranger Things and I see any s2 Steve + Billy interaction:

(Is that even correct grammar T-T)

Enjoy this lil fic for today!

July 23rd , 1985 - 3 am at the Harrington household

Steve jolted up hearing pebbles hit his windows looking around his rooms while trying to calm down as he glanced over his room his eyes landed on his window. He recognized that shadow anywhere it was billy. But what was he doing out at 3 am in god damn Hawkins?

Billy picked up a pebble and threw it at his window. “ Psst ! Harrington! Open the window!” He continued to throw some more as he heard a hushed curse word and looked up. “ oi - pretty boy I uhh didn’t see you open the window.”

Steve groaned while leaning out the window. “ didn’t see me?! - anyways what brings you here at three in the morning?”

“ ehh couldn’t sleep n’ shit you?”

“ oh very funny billy very funny you ruined my sleep schedule.”

“ Aw c’mon sleeping beauty live a little why don’t yah ? “

“ yeah I’ll live a little when I GO BACK TO MY Bed!”

“ well sleeping beauty could you let your knight in shining armor into your kingdom?”

“ fine. Go to the porch and I’ll let you in be glad I love you to death!”

“ oh trust me I’m very glad !! “

type “i am” in the tags and whatever comes up first is your new mandatory kin

When you get yourself into a argument with some jerk in a random comment section:

Right Hopper?

Hopper?

HOPPER NO

Keep reading

I support the slut Steve Harrington act

Repost if you agree

I don’t know if you’re still taking requests in particularly for writing, if not you can just react to this idea that’s been banging about in my head rent free and it’s the scene where Billy and Steve come to blows at the Byers house except Steve is a trans man, already has had a rough night, with the binder on and hasn’t taken it off since the day before and he’s been fighting monsters and crap, and the kids (mainly Dustin) is freaking out because he knows and before Billy and Steve properly start fighting inside, Steve takes one or two hits and can’t breathe and collapses and Billy kinda just freaks along with the rest of the kids and we get to see a bit of protective little brother Dustin with Billy catching on and helping out. (Then he (Billy) gets dragged along by the kids with Steve to the tunnels, because like hell Steve’s up for running and fighting and Billy can’t just leave them.)

I tried to write it myself but my motivation hasn’t come back from it’s holiday.

Hey!! I'm always taking requests for writing, even if it might take me a little bit to get to said requests sometimes 😅😅 But I love this so much!! Thank you for coming to me with this!! (And felt that motivation thing 😭)

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Steve's night had been... rough to say the least.

Interdimensional monsters, having to look after a very rambunctious group of middle schoolers, and on top of all that, a binder that felt like it was a few seconds from squeezing his soul from his frame, had never been on the agenda. And yet here he was.

But, as if that wasn't bad enough, of course life had to throw him another curveball. One with sharp teeth and piercing blue eyes that bore daggers into him. One that possessed a mean right hook and an even meaner left.

And Steve had keen reflexes, or at least he would if it were any other day, if he hadn't quite literally been to hell and back just hour before. So, it catches him by surprise when he shoves Billy back into the Byers' kitchen table with a sharp huff only to be met with a harsh blow to his cheekbone seconds later, followed by one of the most menacing, frankly crazy laughs he'd ever heard.

Steve couldn't think straight, cupping his cheek as he staggered back somehow even more out of breath than before. The screams coming from Mike, Dustin, Lucas, and Max were all muffled by the harsh ringing in his ears, chest feeling tighter than ever as he in took a rugged breath from his nose, letting it out through quivering lips. He barely had enough time to look up and make eye contact with the blonde teen in front of him before he was knocked down for the count.

Billy's solid fist made contact with the soft fat covering his fragile ribs. It was as if he was seeing the world in slow motions, body betraying him, knees buckling, stance faltering, torso suddenly feeling too heavy for his legs as he fell backwards. Even in his weakened state he had enough sense to try to catch himself, elbow jutting back to catch his fall.

The room felt uncharacteristically quiet when he made contact with the floor, letting out a soft pained noise, elbows catching him just enough to he didn't hit his head, but gave quickly letting his back fall against the hardwood. He squeezed his eyes shut with a long groan, only opening them back up when he heard Dustin at his side.

"Steve!" he shrieked in his normal high pitched way, gently smacking Steve on the cheek as if to wake him up, like he had ever been knocked out in the first place, "Shit, c'mon, Steve!"

Steve blinked up at him once before scowling, swatting his hand away " 'M not dying, Dustin," he mumbled, eyes falling to just behind Dustin where now Max was holding the end of his nail bat against the chest of a very concerned looking Billy. He couldn't help the strange bloom of pride that spread inside of his chest, right along side the pain.

Dustin seemed to let out a little breath of relief, "Oh, thank God," he exclaimed, falling from his knees back onto his ass. While Lucas backed up Max, Mike came over to where he was lying on the floor, "What's wrong with him?" he asked Dustin worriedly, like Steve wasn't even there.

The other boy just swallowed, looking down at Steve, he knew. This was probably the worst it had ever been, but Dustin wasn't a stranger to the fatigue Steve faced when having worn his binder for too long. And seeing as he'd been wearing the same clothes for nearly a day and a half, Dustin thought it was pretty safe to say the binder had stayed on as well.

Shit.

"Shit, Steve," Dustin sighed, shaking his head, 'shit' and 'Steve' seeming to be the only two words he could come up with tonight. Steve felt the burn of shame deep in his gut, but was it really his fault? It's not like he even had time to think about something like that when he was quite literally fighting for his life. But maybe if he stayed like this for much longer he'd be fighting for his life for a different reason.

"Christ, Dustin," Mike scolded, "What the fuck's going on?" Dustin just looked from Steve to Mike, back to Steve with a semi sympathetic look. Almost as if he was asking Steve for permission to tell. Because the thing was, Dustin was the only one who knew about his situation. Well, besides Carol, and Tommy, and his parents, but you get the point.

Nobody else in Hawkins knew he was trans and Dustin didn't want to be the one to ruin his secrecy if he didn't want to tell. Steve just frowned, looking to the side, not knowing what to do. He hated that it had to come to this, that it had to come out this way, but he also knew he had to tell them something. He cursed himself, feeling the signature sting of tears brimming his eyes, half hoping that maybe one of those demodog things would come back and rip him to shreds.

Dustin was the first to notice, giving him a sad look of understanding, quick to comfort him, "Hey, hey, hey," he rambled, wedging a hand behind Steve's back to lift him up, almost scared in the way Steve winced at the push of his spine shifting his confined ribs, "Okay, it's okay," Dustin slid his hand so instead it was wrapped around his entire back, lifting Steve up as slowly and carefully as possible.

Steve hadn't even realized they were now all staring at him until he was properly sitting up, eyes falling to Max who's head was turned, Lucas' the same, and Billy who was looking over their shoulders.

He gave them a teary-eyed glare before quickly thanking Dustin for helping him sit up, thankful that he was given at least a minute to recover before having to stand, though he had high hopes that the task might be easier given his current position.

"What the hell is going on!" Mike snapped, now fully and openly freaking out. Steve looked at him with a furrowed brow, not used to seeing him so uncool under pressure. But Steve also couldn't help to think that it meant he cared.

" 'S hard to explain," Steve sniffled, rubbing his nose with the side of his wrist, grimacing at the snot before wiping it on his shirt. He couldn't help the slight upturn of his lips when he reached a hand out for either Lucas or Max to take and they both gave him a grossed out expression, leaving Dustin and mike to get up and each take an arm, clenching their teach as they pulled Steve's dead weight up off the ground.

He hadn't even been thinking about his cheek until he scrubbed a hand down his face, wincing as the feeling of the forming bruise.

Billy, right.

When Steve dared connect their eyes Billy didn't scrunch his nose or snarl like he expected, but instead looked at Max who had finally lowed the nail bat and then looked at the floor like a kicked puppy. Steve wanted to kick himself for thinking he looked kind of cute when he let down his guard, almost not scary at all, almost.

"Steve, hello? Earth to Steve," Steve was quickly shaken out of his thoughts by Dustin, gripping his shoulders. The brunette blinked down at him, head still feeling a little foggy from everything. The quizzical look Dustin gave him left him puzzled.

"You gotta take it off," he whispered, leaning in close enough so that Steve would be the only one to hear him. Steve's frowned deepened, sniffling again, but the waterworks didn't return, "I know it sucks, but it's gonna suck worse if you don't take care of it now."

Deep down Steve knew Dustin was right, that if he didn't take off his binder now, he would be in even deeper shit later. But what was he supposed to do without it? There was no way he was about to leave without it on. He was relatively flat, the one trait he was glad he got from his mother, besides his hair, but not that flat. People would look, people would stare, people would ask questions that he really didn't want to and really didn't have time to answer.

He just wasn't ready, "Steve," Dustins voice was firm but caring, laced with a hint of pity. Steve opened his mouth to speak, but Mike beat him to it.

"I feel really out of the loop here, guys." Steve rolled his eyes as did Dustin.

Finally Steve caved, for the sake of his sanity if of nothing else, "Fine, I'm going to the bathroom," he announced, heart softening at the toothy, grin Dustin gave him dropping his hands from his shoulders.

Just as Steve was about to leave the room and round the corner into the hallway he turned around, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but," he grumbled, pointing, but only with his forearm, not wanting to face the pain of lifting his bicep, "Hargrove," Billy's head snapped over to Steve, "You're in charge."

He didn't even give the kids time to argue before stalking off, disappearing into the Byers' narrow half bath. When he closed the door behind him he stayed there for a moment, pressing his back against the door, closing his eyes. He was pretty sure he could fall asleep right there, standing up like a horse, it it weren't for the throbbing pain in his cheek and the sore rub of his chest.

His Nikes squeaked across the tile, making him cringe slightly as he made his way to the sink, or rather the mirror, giving himself a good look. He really did look like shit. He had dark circles under his eyes, a cut on his cheek from what he could only assume to be Billy's ring, framed by a nasty purple bruise. Steve sighed, grabbing a towel from a hook beside the counter, wetting it, before pressing it gingerly upon the wound. He hissed at the contact, lips pursing as he dabbed the warm cloth to his, face, even paler than usual.

If he didn't know any better he would have guessed he was sick, scarlet red blush splotching paper white flesh. But this was only the first of his problems, next came the more serious matter.

Carefully, Steve slid his Member's Only jacket off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor, metal zipper clanking on the tile. his hands shook like a leaf as he reached for the hem of his shirt, taking a deep breath that sent a sharp pain down his spine. It really was time to take this thing off. Slowly he grabbed the bottom, sliding it up, the task proving to be more difficult as he went higher. In the end he was cringing, grinding his teeth with a short grunt until he finally got it off, discarding it onto the floor.

Now Steve was just left with his binder, looking at himself in the mirror with sad, almost scared eyes. He hated seeing himself without one. Because he had it in his head that if he never saw his chest then he could just convince himself that it wasn't there, that the breast he loathed so much didn't exist and all he had were the flat expanse of pecs.

He made the executive decision to turn around, thanking God that the binder had a zipper on the front. He grabbed the zipper, feeling a slight panic run coarse through his veins before he began pulling, with each new pull of the teeth it felt like his lungs grew a size bigger. Breathing getting easier and easier until he had fully unzipped the compressive material.

Steve looked ahead at the tile that lined the shower as he shrugged it off his shoulders, taking the deepest breath he could muster before releasing it again. It was freeing in the worst way. His ribs still ached and his chest was just all around sore, but at least he could breathe a bit better.

He dared to let his hands wander, rubbing smoothly over his ribs, pointer finger being able to feel the subtle jut of each one as he went along. He could feel the binder rash against his sides, bicep rubbing against the raw skin making him flinch.

Steve didn't want to turn around, but there was that voice in the back of his head, the one that always lingered there. Telling him he needed to face his true self, who he really was. And deep down he knew it wasn't true, that he was just as much a guy as any cis guy. But sometimes he let it get the better of him. So he did, he turned around, staring into his own eyes at first before he let them dip lower.

He bit his lip, not being able to take looking for more than a second before looking up that the ceiling, tears forming stubbornly in the corners of his eyes. His nipples were hard and chaffed, the rash directly under the swell of his breasts even worse than the rash on his sides.

He squeezed his eyes shut, image imprinted on the backs of his eyelids. Steve cried silent tears, wet streaks of disingenuous shame ran down his face until his crying wasn't so silent.

Billy was sitting in the living room when he heard it, sending Max who was explaining everything to him a quick ", Shh." And when that didn't work a firm, "Shut up, Shitbird," as he worked hard to drown out her complaining at the nickname and focus on the soft noise coming from the hallway.

When one particularly loud sob rang through the house everyone stopped talking, all eyes pointed in the direction of the bathroom.

Dustin was the first one to make the move to go, quickly being shut down by Billy, "Hold it," he said, reaching out a hand gesture to halt him, fearing the worst after hearing what Max just told him, "I'm going."

He was reaching for the bat at Max's side when suddenly- "No!" Everyone looked at him with wide eyes, "You- You can't," he babbled, shaking his head. Billy just furrowed his eyebrows at him.

"Like hell I can't," retorted, gripping handle with a firm hand, using it to propel himself up out of his seat. Dustin did the same, pushed himself up out of his seat, with a huff and a stubborn cross of him arms.

Billy gave him a look, or rather a glare, to which Dustin himself returned, tough kid. "Look, something's wrong in there and if it's something... something bad I don't need any of you shitheads," he gestured with the bad towards the group, "getting hurt, kapish?"

Dustin stared at him a second longer before falling back into his seat, deciding that if it was a demodog Billy stood the best chance. He would just have to pray, for Steve's sake, that he had things handled in his department, so Billy didn't learn anything he could use against him later.

Billy approached the bathroom door quickly but carefully, not wanting to waste any time if Steve was actually about to get mauled by some creature, "Harrington?" he called, knocking on the solid door three times, pressing his ear close.

Nothing.

"Harrington, open up!" he demanded, fear level only going up when all he heard was the persistent sound of Steve's cries, "Harrington I swear to God-"

Suddenly a new sound came from the bathroom, a scream, not high enough to be one of fear, but rather of frustration. But Billy didn't have enough time to think about that, just that Steve could be in trouble. In one swift movement he twisted the door handle and pushed through, quickly returning both hands to the bat where they belonged.

Steve didn't even notice Billy's presence until it was too late, until he was standing in the door way with a look Steve couldn't tell was shock or disgust. He quickly went from clutching the side of the sink to having his arms crossed over his chest, trying to hold onto what little dignity he had left.

He looked at Billy like a deer in headlights, like at any second Billy might flip, this time doing more damage than the first.

They stayed like that longer than they should have, Billy staring at Steve and vice versa, cold air from outside the bathroom sending a shiver down the brunette's shirtless form.

"Please..." Steve pleaded softly, what he was pleading for he wasn't sure. And Billy just blinked, tongue darting out out wet his lips which had gone dry. He took a cautious step froward, causing Steve to step back. The fact pained Billy, causing him to shake his head slowly and drop the bat, the object toppling to the floor with a crash, like some bizarre peace offering.

But it seemed to work for Steve who's posture visibly relaxed, shoulders dropping, exhaling from his lips, but that didn't mean he wasn't still guarded.

Billy's expression remained confused, eyes darting from Steve's chest to his face, and back to his chest, "Want to take a picture? It'll last longer," Steve scoffed, turning a little bit on hopes of blocking his view.

Billy cleared his throat, eyes wandering now to the floor, "I'm sorry I just- I didn't-" he stumbled, but thankfully Steve was there to finish his sentence.

"Didn't expect me to be such a freak?" he grit, almost as if they weren't Billy's thoughts but his own.

But the blonde quickly recovered, "No!" he exclaimed, "No, not at all," he assured, "At least not because of this." His lame attempt at a joke actually landed, pulling a wet laugh out of Steve's exhausted lungs.

"You really know how to make a guy feel good about himself, Hargrove," Steve retorted, corners of his lips upturning into a soft, yet sad smile, Billy's smile about the same.

"Yeah, well..." he started, eyes being pulled back down to Steve's exposed side, thanks to the new angle, getting an eyeful of the rash that resided there, "Shit, man, that looks nasty."

Steve just looked down almost bashfully, "The flatter never ends," he mumbled, but the words held no real malice.

Billy shook his head, "No, I mean- I didn't mean it like that. Just looks like it hurts," he explained, to which Steve raised his eyebrows and nodded.

"Like a bitch," he admitted, subconsciously chewing anxiously on the inside of his cheek.

Billy nodded too, in consolidation and in thought. There was a beat of tension filled silence before Billy spoke again, "Y'know if there's any lotion lying around I could help you with that," he offered, hoping that he wasn't over stepping any kind of boundary.

"You, Billy Hargrove, that guy that tried to rock my shit, less than thirty minutes ago, want to help me?" Steve questioned with disbelief, eyes wide as they met Billy's.

Billy just shrugged, scratching the slowly growing stubble on his jaw, "Change of heart, I guess." Steve scoffed, but not out of disbelief, rather out of humor.

And maybe saying no was the sane thing to do, but when was Steve ever known to make the right choice.

"Yeah, alright."

Just a quick, sincere thank you to everyone in the Harringrove fandom and all the hilarious, soft, hot, amazing content you create. Long meeting? Road trip with my family and they’re fighting? Long line at the grocery store? Trying to avoid doing chores? There’s beautiful Harringrove content for any situation, and I’m so blessed to have it all here for my consumption.

He doesn’t know why, but he’s laying down.

It’s the first thing he realizes. A stupid thing to notice, but just one minute ago, he was standing behind the counter at Family Video, and now he’s laying down.

His eyes are heavy, and it feels like it takes a huge amount of effort just to open them.

He’s in a fucking hospital.

He knows from the stupid white color of the stupid drop ceiling tiles. From the stupid annoying beeping of the stupid heart monitor. From the stupid scratchy gown he’s wearing instead of his sweater.

He heard a muttered curse next to him, and slowly lolled his head over to look.

Hopper was sitting next to his bed, his hat balanced on his knee, looking grumpily at the crossword printed on the back of The Hawkins Post. Steve wanted to laugh at the image, the chief of police swearing as he scribbled out something.

“How the fuck am I supposed to know that? Nobody knows what the fuck that is.”

“Blame Nancy,” Steve croaked. His head throbbed and he closed his eyes again. “She convinced them to add that. Said sales would go up.”

There was a rustling of paper.

“Smart girl,” Hopper said. He paused for a moment, and Steve felt like he needed someone to come and crowbar his eyes open or they would stay closed forever.

“You collapsed. Scared the shit out of your girlfriend, and everyone else at the video store.”

“Not my girlfriend,” Steve mumbled.

So that makes sense, why he was at work one second, and in a lousy bed at Hawkins General the next.

“You didn’t hit your head. Hargrove caught you before you went all the way down.”

Jesus, Billy’s reflexes really are something else. Steve’s gonna need to thank him for that. The last fucking thing he needs is another concussion. Maybe, to show his gratitude, he’ll suck Billy’s-

“I’m here because we need to talk about what the doctors found in your system.”

Steve’s mind went blank, and his eyes flew open.

Hopper was looking at him, his face an unfamiliar mix of sad, and angry, and fucking, disappointed.

Steve felt like he could vomit.

“They ran your blood. Routine E.R. shit, I’m told. But they found some, some substances that shouldn’t be there.”

Steve swallowed down the lump in his throat.

He knew the guilt was written all over his face.

“How long?”

“Since the summer.” He couldn’t look at Hop in the face. Not while he admitted this shit.

He was fucking stupid to think he wouldn’t be caught.

It’s a miracle Robin hasn’t walked in on him doing bumps in the bathroom at work, or Billy hasn’t found his stash tucked between the mattress and the box spring.

Hopper sighed.

“I know we all went through a lot last summer. With your friend getting trapped in the Upside Down, and you getting captured-”

“Tortured. I got tortured.”

Hopper sighed again.

“Getting coked up isn’t going to help anything.”

“What is this? Fucking Family Ties?”

He felt Hopper’s glare more than he actually saw it.

“It’s stupid-”

“You just don’t get it! Okay?” He really didn’t mean to yell, his head just fucking hurts and he’s so fucking stupid.

“Oh yeah,” Hopper snarked. “I fucking forgot. You’re the only person in the goddamn world that’s ever dealt with fucking drug addiction. So sorry.”

“I’m not addicted!” Lie.

“I don’t fucking believe you.”

Steve glared at Hopper.

“So, what? You’re here to arrest me?”

“No. I’m here to talk some fucking sense into you.” He shifted in his chair, the newspaper slid off his lap and fell on the floor. “You’re around those kids all the time. You fucking drive them around. You have been endangering their lives for months. And why? Because you can’t handle the trauma? We all have trauma. You think your friend Hargrove is totally fine after being stuck in that place? After realizing some fucked up doppelgänger was killing people? You think your girlfriend is totally fine after being tortured by the Russians too?”

“I don’t do it when I have to drive the kids, Hop I swear.” That, was the truth. “Okay, the other stuff, I get your point, but I need you to know, I wouldn’t hurt the kids like that, I-” the heart monitor was speeding up, getting louder in Steve’s panic. “You have to believe me, I’ve never driven them high.”

“Okay, okay. I believe you.” Hopper sighed again. “Just, why?”

Steve gulped.

“The Russians, they drugged us. They said it would make us tell them the truth. And I don’t know what it was, but fuck. It felt good. I couldn’t feel the pain, and I wasn’t scared, and I just. I didn’t know how to stop being scared.”

It was embarrassing.

Admitting that he’s been scared shitless ever since that first demogorgon dropped through the Byers’ ceiling.

Admitting he’s been doing lines of coke to keep himself from spiraling into inconsolable panic.

“I did some at a party, and it was the closest I felt to that feeling.”

Not technically true. He and Billy did some together last August, and it was like the fearlessness washed over Steve in warm waves.

But he can’t throw Billy under the bus like that.

And if Billy ever found out, that one night of drug experimentation between lovers turned into a full-on addiction, he’d never forgive himself.

There was a pause.

“Have you been snorting or shooting?”

“Snorting.”

“Okay,” Hopper stood up, stretching his arms above his head and placing his hat back on. “I’m going to tell your friends what’s going on. Not the kids, just Hargrove and Buckley. Joyce, too. Then, when you get out of here, you and I are going to clean out any stashes you’ve got. And we’re all going to be watching you like a fucking hawk.”

“Wait,” Steve croaked, his heart rate jumping up again, the beeping speeding up. “Don’t tell Billy.” Hopper shot Steve a look that said really? “Let me tell him. He needs to hear it from me.”

Hopper paused, on hand on the doorknob.

“Did he get you hooked? Is he on it too?”

“No! Nothing like that. Please? He’ll be upset unless I tell him.”

Hopper gave him a look that was a little too searching to be comfortable.

“Okay. Okay, kid. I’ll send him in. But he’ll know what’s going on one way or another. Don’t make me tell him that you’ve lied. Don’t think he’d appreciate it.”

He left the room without another word, leaving Steve to stew in his shame.

He’s such an idiot.

Why did he ever think he could get away with this and not one person would notice?

Even if they didn’t know he was regularly doing cocaine, Billy and Robin already knew something was up. They kept asking him if he was okay, coming over for impromptu sleepover parties. It was nice, he loves them both, but it was only a matter of time before the penny dropped.

It’s just embarrassing. That a routine blood test exposed the amount of uppers in his system. Exposed how little he’s dealing.

He rolled over, waiting for Billy to come into the room and blame himself for Steve’s stupidity. He didn’t want that.

Billy didn’t have a drug problem. He thought it’d be fun for them to get a little high and do stuff together. And it was! It was so fun, and they’d talked about doing it again.

Steve can kiss that idea goodbye.

He wouldn’t be surprised if Billy started following him into the bathroom to make sure he wasn’t doing anything he shouldn’t be.

It’s sweet, that his boyfriend cares so much about him that he would, hypothetically at least, do that.

But Billy’s got enough on his plate, and if Steve knows anything about him, it’s that he blames himself for shit just as much as Steve does.

He focused on the steady beeping of the heart monitor. Still elevated, his nerves for the coming conversation getting the best of him.

His head was pounding in a way that said it was time for his next fix.

He squeezed his eyes closed, willing away the need thrumming under his skin.

“So, you finally gonna tell me why you’ve been actin’ all squirrelly lately?”