Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

They run to the open gate.

It’s over for now, with a lot of help, and Erica, Dustin, and Lucas are waiting to pull them out of the Upside Down.

Vast plains, small forests, bizarre, not quite right homes, and gently swirling ash. Vines that creep and crawl and kill, that speak to each other and their host. This place lives and breathes terrifyingly together, and the monsters that screech, fly, and haunt the landscape are a reminder.

There are flashes of vivid orange and red light, lightning strikes zipping across the cloudy, ashy sky. It’s an awful place, and Steve feels the claws of anxiety and pure adrenaline from the fight in his veins.

El walked into the Upside Down and helped them defeat the monster. But she said he’s never really gone, and she doesn’t know how to take him on and finish it all off when they’ve closed the gate and killed the bad guy numerous times. He keeps showing up right when they think they’ve moved past it all, but at least they have El.

Even if she shouldn’t have to take on the burden.

Eddie’s house is looming on the horizon, and they’re running to it to get out just like they did before.

Steve doesn’t notice that El stops running until Nancy grabs his sleeve, and he abruptly stops, turning around. El looks behind them, and Nancy and Max surround her. Steve walks toward her, planning to insist they all keep running to get the fuck out of here because dawdling is going to get them killed.

But he sees El bleeding from her nose, though Steve knows she didn’t do any mind tricks in the last couple of minutes.

“What? What is it? El?” Max asks and squeezes her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

El stares, but Steve can’t see what she’s seeing. She looks at them, from Steve to Eddie, Nancy to Robin, and Max. She wipes the blood off with her sleeve.

“Billy,” El says. Her voice doesn’t shake. “Billy.”

“What do you mean, Billy? Again?” Max asks, her voice high-pitched and terrified. Her pain and defeat are evident at the thought of facing him one more time.  “He’s coming again? Didn’t we just win?”

El looks at her and swallows. “Billy,” she repeats. “Not the Mind Flayer. Not Vecna. Just Billy.”

They stare at her. Steve’s guts are twisting with fear and concern, and he doesn’t know what she means. He doesn’t want to because they’d all seen Billy die, and Max saw him here, but it wasn’t him. Billy’s been dead and gone, and his body is buried in the cemetery.

“Do you mean he’s stuck here? The real Billy?” Nancy asks.

El nods, and there are tears in her eyes when she looks at Max. Max seems frozen, but her hands are shaking. Nancy and Robin wrap an arm around her, but it doesn’t help. She’s breathing too quickly, close to panic, and Steve isn't surprised after she explained how she saw Billy in here.

But that was a lie. It was fucked and wrong and a lie.

El wouldn’t say it if she weren’t sure, though. And, with a heavy weight settling on his shoulders, Steve thinks he knows the answer.

“I’ll go,” Steve says and holds up his hands when just about everyone starts to protest. “I’ll go. Get out of here, okay? I’ll call you back if I need you. But get the hell out of here.”

“Steve,” Nancy says firmly. “You are not going alone.”

“Not ever, dingus,” Robin says as she moves to his side. “We’re never leaving you here alone. Don’t ask us to.”

Steve balls his hands into fists and bounces on his heels as he looks in the direction El was staring. “No, it’s gotta be me,” he says and tries not to think of ocean-blue eyes, a grin, a warm hand underneath the back of his shirt. “I don’t want you guys in danger anymore. El says this isn’t over. Get out! I’ll go.”

“I’m going with you,” Max says as she looks at Steve.

It goes still and quiets as they look at her.

Steve wants to protest. He wants to put his foot down, cross his arms, and demand they leave. This isn’t the time for childish heroics. But this is Billy, and this is Max. He’d never be able to convince her she could die—and Jesus, she already knows that well—and he’d never be able to convince her he could do it alone.

It’s Billy. It’s her chance.

It’s Steve’s chance too.

“Look,” Eddie says slowly. “I’m all about not running anymore, but I vote to get the hell out of here. I trust Steve to get it done. Don’t you?”

He asks Robin and Nancy, who purses her lips tight. She’s got that stubborn set to her jaw and shoulders and looks at Steve. He silently begs her not to make him wait, not try to stop him and watches Nancy blink quickly.

She nods. “Okay,” Nancy says. “Okay. We’ll get out of here. But, if you’re not back soon, we’re coming after you,” she promises Steve, pointing at his chest. “Watch out for her, Steve.”

“They’ll be okay,” El says softly. She smiles a bit when Max looks at her, and a tear falls down her cheek. “It’ll be okay.”

“I’m good with that,” Steve says, holding out his hand for the bat they brought. Robin hands it to him, pale and concerned, but encouragement from El isn’t to be taken fucking lightly. “Ready?”

He looks at Max, who does appear frightened. But she’s stubborn as hell, too, and Steve wonders who she learned that best from. Max nods and bites her lip when it wobbles.

“I’m ready,” Max says. “Let’s go.”

El points straight back the way they came, which fucking sucks, but if Billy is that way, there’s nothing that will stop Steve or Max. Of course, it probably wouldn’t stop any of them if they hadn’t just put Vecna down and everyone else is exhausted and afraid of staying in this place that never seems to actually be defeated.

Max runs, and Steve runs with her. Upside Down bats are dead and unmoving around them like some twisted graveyard, flashes of orange lighting up their membraneous wings.

Which is good because he’s still aching from the bites and swinging shit at them before they could heal.

Steve looks back a few times, but everyone’s gone. Off to Eddie’s place to get out of here, and the wasteland eventually slopes downward, and Steve can’t look behind anymore.

Trees get thicker at their sides as they run down a long, low-lying hill. The vines aren’t pulsing anymore, but they don’t look dead either. Steve and Max still avoid them. He’s starting to get winded when he sees something out of place.

Max stops, and so does Steve, and they look at each other, sweating and panting.

“What if he’s not really Billy?” Max asks.

“I dunno,” Steve says. “El said he was. Shouldn’t we go by her word?”

“Yeah,” Max pants. “Except this has been a really shitty week.”

Steve huffs a laugh and nods. “Can’t argue with that,” he says. He holds out his fist. “Let’s see, huh?”

Max nods and fistbumps Steve. They look at the horizon and the small, out-of-place shape in the distance.

Nerves are roiling in Steve’s stomach. He trusts El with his life and doesn’t doubt her, but his brain isn’t exactly cooperating. Maybe because he’s scared shitless he’ll actually see Billy, and he’ll just be… Billy. No Vecna, no nightmare, just Billy.

And Billy meant a whole lot to Steve not even a year ago. Fuck, he did. No one but Robin knows that, and it was like extracting teeth to even get Steve to be slightly open about it, let alone bring Billy around. But it was sacred and secret, and it was eventually gone.

Billy was gone, and he took a part of Steve with him.

Things between Steve and Billy changed. They changed in a big fucking way, and the rest of the time they spent as enemies was a show. A show for everyone who expected it, even Nancy and the kids. He hated Billy, and Billy hated him, and everyone in Hawkins knew it.

But that’s not what it was when they were alone. Once they could be away from prying eyes, they spent a lot of time pressed against each other, whether thigh to thigh on the couch, lips pressed against warm skin, moving together in bed—opening up to each other too.

Steve’s been going through girls trying to have something else. Something that might make him only want girls, to go back to hiding, to forget about Billy and how he watched him slip away.

One day, with cold calculation that seemed abnormal and wrong, Billy pulled away, and Steve never would've guessed the truth. He didn’t know the truth for a while, and when he did, it hurt more than Billy breaking his heart for a girl and cleaned-up appearance.

He didn’t save him. He should’ve fucking known something sinister happened because it wasn’t Billy. Steve let him go, and he hurt a lot of people while possessed. He got killed because he was, and Steve watched it happen. The best he had were some fireworks, and the best Billy had was sacrificing his life for a girl he didn’t even know.

They look at the horizon before Steve looks at Max, and she nods. They run again, faster now, with more strength and resolve to push them forward. Steve wonders if Max was thinking something along the same lines, but even if she knew Billy wasn’t Billy, it was never her fault.

She’s lucky the Mind Flayer didn’t think she was enough of a target back then.

The shape becomes more apparent. A person, a white tank top, but Steve and Max falter briefly because music fills the air. It’s warped like it’s being played on speakers underwater and cuts in and out, echoing strangely across the valley and through the black forests to their sides.

Steve knows the song. He knows it so well that he aches and burns like a festering wound and wants to turn back. He wants to run away from this because this is personal, and it shouldn’t be here. It’s this place taunting him, not his friends saving them.

Isn’t it?

—lovers need a holiday—

—far away—

—hard for me to say—

“Billy!” Max screeches.

He’s there.

Billy’s there, just fifty feet away, and Steve can see he’s sitting cross-legged on the ground, facing away from them. As they get closer, they see he’s wearing the jeans and shirt he died in, stained with black blood, and the hair on the back of his head is matted with it.

He’s staring at something. Something in front of him with a screen, four short legs… a television set. A metallic grey television, curved and stylish, something straight out of the 60s.

Something is playing on the screen, interrupted by static, but Steve’s focused on Billy.

“Billy!”

“Billy!” Max yells as they get to him, sliding in the black dirt. She sits next to Billy and grabs his arm as Steve moves to his side and looks at him.

He doesn’t look at either of them. But he’s alive, breathing, and staring at the television. Steve has seen a fucking trance, and Jesus, he will never forget it, but that’s not was this looks like. Not the same curse or spell or whatever the fuck it was that Vecna put on people.

Steve feels frozen as he stares at Billy’s blue eyes, open wide and staring at the television screen. Max is shaking his shoulder and sobbing, and Steve hears his own ragged breaths.

It’s him.

—couldn’t stand to be kept away—

—wouldn’t want to be—

—from the one that I love—

It’s coming from the television, and Steve doesn’t hear it echoed around them anymore. Right in front of them, and it’s pretty clear it's taunting Billy, too.

He’s too afraid to touch Billy, even when Max looks up at him, her eyes red-rimmed, begging him to do something.

Steve looks at the screen and sees the night Billy came to the Byers’, and they fought. It’s like a movie, capturing it all from the blood-splattered shirts to bruised eyes, a plate over Steve’s head, and a needle plunged into Billy’s neck.

It turns to static before another scene starts. Hurting Max, over and over, all while Billy was himself. Their voices cut in and out with each interruption between the scenes, but it goes to static and more scenes play out.

All the times he hurt Steve, the kids, everyone.

None of the memories are from the Mind Flayer. Steve doesn’t think so, anyway, after he finally feels air fill his lungs as Max says his name repeatedly, and he’s plunged back into harsh reality.

He inhales sharply and looks at Billy, dropping to his knees next to him. Steve grabs Billy’s shoulder, and his skin is like ice. Billy doesn’t move or flinch no matter how much they yell his name or jostle him.

“What’s the music?” Max asks as she looks at Steve. “What is it? Why isn’t it helping?”

“Because it’s not his… because it’s not the same way,” Steve says. “We used it to get you out. Your favorite song. His favorite is… it’s a bad memory, I think. It’s gotta be, playing along with those.”

He jerks his thumb at the television and refuses to look at it again.

Max nods and sniffs, wiping her nose on her sleeve. “Okay. So how do we get him out of this?” she asks. “Why’s he seeing all that stuff?”

“‘Cause he regrets it,” Steve mutters. “It was just too hard for him to say he was sorry at the time.”

“Billy didn’t even listen to Chicago.”

Steve glances at Max and bites the inside of his cheek before looking at the dead-eyed stare in Billy’s eyes.

It wasn’t a bad memory, but it might still be filled with regret. Steve can’t say, but he knows it wasn’t a bad memory for him. Nothing ever was when they were alone and could be themselves.

Fuck, he remembers it so well. The song came on the radio while they were sitting in Steve’s house. His parents were away for the weekend, and Billy came over to look at the Beamer because she was acting funny. It was the middle of summer, stupid hot, and Billy was a grade-A asshole by the time they got inside to cool off with beer and the radio.

They were snippy with each other because the heat made Steve moody, too, so he gave up trying to talk after a while. Then the station put on Chicago for some damn reason, and Steve went to turn it off, and Billy told him not to.

Ordered him not to, which was probably about to lead to more snide remarks, but instead, Billy looked Steve straight in the eye and said very seriously, even lovers need a holiday, far away from each other.

And who knew Billy could belt out a tune to fucking Chicago? Steve’s living room was his stage, and Steve was his audience, and he knew he’d never laughed that hard in his life. Tears were on his cheeks, his stomach aching, and his heart full.

Steve’s eyes sting now, and it’s painful.

“Billy,” Steve says quietly. “Hey, man. We gotta get you out of here. Away from this place.”

“Come on, Billy,” Max says as she grasps his arm and shakes it. “You heard what I said at the cemetery. I know you did. I know you did! We can make it right, Billy! It’s our chance.”

Steve sits back on his heels as he watches Billy stare at the screen. The same scenes keep playing on a loop, and Steve turns to it and tries to turn it off.

The buttons and dials don’t do anything, and Steve frowns. The set is so perfect, like it used to sit in a showroom, not a speck of dirt on it, shined to a sheen.

Billy’s jeans, shirt, neck, and hair are stained with black blood. Fresh black blood, Steve notices with a grimace as a drop falls from the end of a curl hanging by his ear.

“Can we destroy it?” Max asks suddenly. She looks from the bat Steve laid on the ground to the television. “Can you smash it?”

Steve looks at the bat, Billy, and Max. “Fuck,” he says and looks at Billy. “I can try.”

The bat breaks on the first swing. It splinters into a dozen pieces on contact, and the television remains unscathed. Steve stares down at the broken bat in his hand before flinging it away.

“Fuck!” Steve says as he moves alongside Billy again. Not even a fucking flinch. Steve grasps his hair in his hand and bites his tongue to try not to show too much of the anger he feels. Or the tears burning his eyes.

“Billy,” Max says. Her voice is strained and afraid, and her hand shakes when she reaches for Billy’s face. “Billy, please. Please come back to us. Please. Please, let me take you home. It’s shit, but it’s home, okay? So we’ll go home.”

Her hand lays on the side of Billy’s face. He doesn’t move, and Max looks at Steve.

“He’s so cold,” Max whispers. “Like he’s been sitting out in the snow too long.”

Steve touches Billy’s arm and doesn’t like that he’s so cold either. He’s a little afraid Billy might slump over and really be gone or that they might wake him up just to watch him die again.

He shakes his head because he doesn’t have the answers. El said they’d be okay, but how can they get Billy out of this?

“Well, this place doesn’t do anyone any good,” Steve says to reassure Max. “Especially not someone who belongs in California.”

The television turns to static before a new scene plays. Max and Steve look at it and see waves. Black and white waves and a surfboard without a surfer bobbing in the water.

Steve and Max glance at each other.

“Home!” Max says and looks at Billy. “California. Mission, right, Billy? We came from Mission. Closer to Baja than Canada, right? That’s what you always said,” She laughs breathlessly. “That’s home. That’s our real home.”

The scene shifts.

Billy’s mother, blonde and slim and beautiful, weeping. Billy’s dad looms over her, fist held in the air, and her eye is already bruised.

A child is crying.

“No, no, no! Billy,” Max says. “Not that part. That part wasn’t home. The beach was, your friends were, your mom when she was away from Neil. Just you and her at the beach, remember?”

Static.

Neil holds Billy against the wall and hits him across the jaw. He spits in Billy’s face, and Billy bites something back, and Neil hits him again.

A different child is crying.

“Billy,” Steve says. “Hey, man. What about the Redwood forest? You told me about that a long time ago. You, your mom, and your aunt went up there when you were a kid. Remember?”

Static.

Trees. Massive, neverending trees stretch toward the sky. Ferns and clover underfoot, speckled light dashed across the vibrant and subdued plantlife. A blonde woman wearing a fanny pack laughing and holding out her hand.

A child is giggling.

Max stares at Steve with confusion, blinking quickly before she looks at Billy. “You remember the wedding?” she asks breathlessly. “The wedding! We’d barely talked before then. We both hid in the kitchen at that stupid venue. I saw their ugly cake, and then you came up….”

Static.

Max, a handful of years younger, standing by a three-tiered wedding cake with more lace frosting decorations and real lace adorning it than Steve has ever seen.

He feels like Susan wasn’t entirely responsible for it.

She’s staring at it with defeated disgust before Max’s eyes go round as Billy stops next to her. His hair is shorter, his face thinner, and there’s not as much hostility in his eyes as he started to carry later.

—should we ruin it?

—get us killed—

—be an improvement—

Billy drags two fingers down the bottom tier of the cake while Max watches with horror and looks up at Billy as he flicks icing off his fingers. Then, he looks at her solemnly before they both laugh.

It went all wrong, Steve knows, but he also knows Max wants to make it right. And this has to be their only chance to do it.

“Definitely an improvement,” Steve says, just to see Max laugh through a few tears. He looks at Billy, and his eyes are empty, but they’re getting to him.

They’re fucking getting to him.

“Cannot believe I’m going to say this,” Steve mutters as he stares at Billy. Traces every line of his face that he knows so well—that haunts him wherever he goes. “You remember that festival we went to a few towns over? The goddamn rock festival? We had to bail halfway through because a bunch of biker gangs started fighting?”

Static.

Chaos. But if Billy didn’t fucking love chaos, he couldn’t be called Billy Hargrove, as far as Steve’s concerned.

Bikers screaming at each other, and Billy’s watching with a wild laugh, beer already soaking the front of his shirt, a bottle of it sloshing in his hand. His eyes are bright and damn near ecstatic while the band tries to get everyone to calm down, and then shit really goes down.

Billy and Steve hold each other’s sleeves as they run out of the festival and to the parking lot, laughing like a couple of lunatics at one in the morning.

“Yeah,” Steve mutters when he sees Max gaping at him. “I’ll explain later.”

“Oh, god,” Max whispers and looks at Billy. “You and Steve were friends?”

Static.

Steve lets Billy bully him up against the kitchen island in his parent’s house. It was their second time alone together after, well… the first time that the ground shifted beneath them, and they found themselves in new territory.

—the matter, Steve? Do you only talk a big game—

—shut the hell up and kiss—

“Oh my god!” Max yells and covers her ears as she looks at Steve. “Turn it off!”

“I’m not controlling it!” Steve says, waving his hands, and his face is burning. He looks at Billy. “Alright, asshole, I know you can hear us. These are memories, Billy. You’re stuck in them. But we are right next to you, and you need to come back.”

“Yeah,” Max whispers. “Yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Billy, you know where we are. You know where you are.”

Static.

A vast, ominous landscape. Black dirt, red skies, screeching monsters. A deep voice reverberates across the valleys and forests, but Steve can’t make out the words.

“You’re there, Billy,” Steve says as he looks at the screen, then Billy. “You’re here. We’re here.”

“We’re right next to you. We’re sitting right next to you in the Upside Down. And it’s you, Billy. The real you.”

Static.

—after all that we’ve—

—through—

—make it up—

—promise to—

The music stops.

Billy is mirrored on the screen precisely as he sits now. Cross-legged, his wrists pressed against his knees, and, distantly, red skies flash behind him.

“We’re here, Billy,” Max says and grasps Billy’s hand. “I’m right here next to you.”

A reflection of Max appears on the screen, wide-eyed, frightened, and hopeful.

“Oh, fucking hell,” Steve says as he stares at the screen before grabbing Billy’s hand and interlocking their fingers. “I’m here, too, Billy.”

Steve flickers into the reflection next to Billy.

“Max.”

Max gasps, and Steve freezes as they look at Billy.

His eyes are half-lidded, and his lips are parted. Billy isn’t breathing as steadily, and Steve is afraid again, absolutely fucking frightened the hell out of his mind that Billy is going to die here in their arms.

“Billy,” Max says pleadingly. “Billy, look at me.”

Billy blinks slowly and appears to be in a daze when he looks at Max. She gapes at him, grasping his hand in both of hers, more petite and far paler.

“Max,” Billy says. His voice is quiet, without inflection. “You have to leave.”

“No! We’re leaving together, Billy,” Max says. “You’re coming home with us. Right now.”

“You have to leave,” Billy repeats. “He’ll find you here and take you. Like he took me.”

“He’s gone, Billy. He’s gone, and you’re free!”

“No,” Billy says mechanically. “He told me to wait until it was over. He’s going to call on me when he needs me again.”

“He’s dead,” Steve says because sometimes white lies are necessary. “Billy, the bad guy is dead. He’s not going to call you back. You’re free.”

Billy gradually turns to look at Steve. “Steve,” he says. “He said to wait for him.”

“You’re gonna be waiting a long time for a dead guy, man,” Steve says and grabs Billy’s shoulders, lightly shaking him. “He’s gone. Don’t you feel that? He’s gone!”

There’s silence for a long stretch as Billy stares at Steve. He blinks a few times and seems to be fighting the urge to pass out. Finally, he rears back just a bit, and Steve and Max grab him to stop him from falling backward.

“Max,” Billy says, and he’s breathing quicker, an edge of fear in his voice. “Steve. Stevie. You guys have to get out of here.”

Max laughs, and she’s crying. “Yeah. Yeah, dummy, we do. And you’re coming with us,” she says. “The sun’s going to be up soon in our world.”

Billy’s shoulders sag, and he stares at his little sister. “Our world?”

“You’ve been trapped here way too long,” Max says. “And we’re taking you home. Got it?”

Steve laughs and abruptly stops doing so when Billy looks at him. His eyes are brighter, more aware, but he’s not going to be on his feet long.

“Steve,” Billy says, heavily slurred. “Why’d you bring my fucking sister here?”

“There he is,” Steve says and pats Billy’s hand. His heart is beating so quick it’s painful, and he would gasp for air and probably cry, too, but he doesn’t want to frighten Max.

But it’s Billy. It’s fucking Billy. Their Billy, his Billy.

He looks like shit; they’re not out of the woods yet, and who knows how he’ll be once they get out of here?

But he’s Billy Hargrove and no one else.

“Can you stand?” Steve asks. “We got a one-way ticket outta here, man. So let’s get you some sunshine, huh?”

Billy stares at Steve, his eyebrows pinched tight together, and he seems confused. But, finally, he nods just once, and that’s enough for Max and Steve.

Steve kicks the television as hard as he can and watches it topple over in a cloud of black ash, where it’ll always stay.

Getting Billy on his feet is easier said than done, and he definitely doesn’t stay on them once they do. But Billy’s fingertips are tight against Steve’s skin, and it feels like a lifeline. Max helps get him on Steve’s back, and after some hissed, urgent persuasion, Billy tightens his grip across Steve’s chest and shoulders.

If Steve dies from a broken back today, at least he can die happy.

It’s a long way back, especially since they can’t run the whole time, and it doesn’t help that Billy occasionally starts to slide down, and they have to start again. The longest trek of Steve’s lifetime, but Max talks to Billy to keep him awake.

Steve is rapidly losing strength by the time Eddie’s house is on the horizon. He helped fight off the big bad guy and all his little minions, and now he’s rescuing Billy from the dead.

It’s a lot.

“Steve,” Billy whispers. Gentle and soft against Steve’s neck. “Stevie.”

It’s enough.

They get there, the gate is open, and their friends are waiting for them.

It’s a blur getting Billy back into their world, Max, and finally himself. El closes the gate the second they’re through while Steve lies on the ground, holding Billy against his chest, and they watch her do it.

They’re all staring, and Steve doesn’t care. His hand is over Billy's chest, feeling his heartbeat, which is powerful and sure, but he’s still fighting to stay conscious.

The sun is rising and filling the trailer with violet and gold hues.

El doesn’t wipe away the blood as she crawls along the floor after the gate is sealed. Instead, she moves to Billy, lays her hand over his cheek, and her chin wobbles.

She smiles, then laughs, just a tiny, breathy sigh, and nods.

“You’ll be okay,” El says to Billy. “He’s gone now.”

Billy’s hand is stained black with blood, and it trembles as he reaches for El’s hand. She grasps him just as Billy finally loses the fight and passes out, but she looks at Steve with a smile.

“He’s okay,” El says. “Billy is okay.”

Steve would bet he’s nowhere near being okay, but he knows she means he’s not being controlled. He’s alive and going to stay that way. He’s just Billy, who probably needs urgent medical attention, but they can’t drag him to a hospital. None of them can go to a hospital in the shape they’re in.

They check each other for anything worse than the bites Steve and Eddie received, but there’s nothing more than bumps and bruises.

Packing into three cars, they leave and go to Steve’s parents’ house because they are, thankfully, gone for another week. It’s an excellent place to stay near each other, make sure they’re okay, get food and some water, not soda, Eddie and Dustin, and try to catch up to a better reality.

To breathe the fresh air after damaging Vecna and saving Billy.

Steve gets Eddie and the boys’ help to move Billy upstairs into Steve’s room. He tells them off after, promising he’ll be just peachy while they eye Billy, and waits until he hears their voices downstairs.

He cuts Billy’s shirt off and pulls the stained belt out of the loops on his jeans. Steve tosses fake flowers from a decorative bucket in the hallway, rinses it clean and fills it with hot, soapy water.

He cleans the blood from Billy’s skin and stares at his chest often to ensure he’s still breathing. Billy will need a shower, but who knows how he’ll feel when he wakes up?

If Steve thinks and immediately banishes the thought.

The girl with the superpowers says Billy is fine. So Billy’s fine.

Steve still keeps a careful eye on him after washing off as much blood as possible. He covers Billy with his sheets and comforter, but his skin is already much warmer.

Closer to what Steve knows. Billy runs hot—blood and temperament—and Steve knows that intimately. From sex and after, when he had to shove Billy away because he was making him sweat.

Steve kind of regrets ever shoving him away.

He sits on a chair pushed close to the bed so he can rest his hand on Billy’s arm.

And Steve waits.

——

After a few hours of rest, most of the kids leave. Max calls her mom and tells her she’s staying with a friend. She wants to be around when Billy wakes up, which Steve totally gets, but he doesn’t know what place Billy will be in.

Not a good one, Steve thinks, and watches Billy with concern when he flinches, or his muscles tighten in his sleep.

Nancy and Robin offer to stay—even Eddie does—but Steve has been handling Billy Hargrove in many different ways for a couple of years and thinks it’ll be fine.

El said it would.

They all leave, and Max sleeps in a guest room across the hall, making Steve swear to her that he’ll wake her up if Billy wakes. He does and will, but Steve still doesn’t want to.

Steve is running on fumes, and around midday, he crashes hard.

When Steve wakes, suddenly and with a jerk, he can tell by the sun it’s getting closer to evening. He looks at the bed and sees it’s empty.

His stomach drops, and his heart starts hammering against his ribcage. He looks at the bedroom door, which is open and doesn’t hear anything. With heavy dread, Steve gets up and walks into the hallway—Max’s door is still closed, but Steve’s bathroom door is open halfway.

He inches along the hall and stops when he sees the bathroom mirror. Steve’s breath catches in his throat because Billy’s there. Just standing there.

Billy stares in the mirror; his eyes are as empty as they were in the Upside Down. There are spots of black blood in places Steve missed and couldn’t get out of his hair. Billy’s breathing is slow and steady, but Steve’s afraid he’s not here anymore.

Then, Billy blinks once and cracks his neck. “You comin’ in or what, Harrington?” he asks.

Steve slumps against the wall and looks up at the ceiling. Billy Hargrove will be his death in some manner, but whether that’s horrific or not remains to be seen.

He walks inside the bathroom and shuts the door quietly as he watches Billy. Billy doesn’t look in the mirror but down at the sink, his hands balled into fists at his sides. Steve would ask him if he’s okay, but he knows he’s not, and he thinks it’d probably insult Billy anyway.

More than anything, he wants to take Billy in, every inch of him, and convince himself he’s real and not going anywhere. That Billy won’t be nothing more than a gravestone Steve was too afraid to visit.

“You want to take a shower?” Steve asks instead. Billy didn’t turn on the lights, so he doesn’t either. “Get the rest of that goo off.”

“Goo,” Billy repeats. There isn’t much life in his voice, but the faint hint of sarcasm and annoyance is there. “Should probably upchuck at some point. Get the goo out from there.”

Steve grimaces and moves closer, leaning his hip on the counter. He crosses his arms. “It’s gone,” he says. “She said it was.”

The corner of Billy’s mouth turns upward, bitter and acidic, and he doesn’t look at Steve. “Yeah,” he says, his voice low and gravely. “Yeah, maybe it’s gone. Maybe I don’t hear his voice in my head anymore. But that doesn’t change anything.”

“I’d say it changes a lot,” Steve says firmly. “It does. It wasn’t you, Billy.”

“Eh,” Billy says and shrugs. “Yeah, it was. I remember, you know. Most of it. Took the right words to get me out of it, but if I’d bothered putting up a fight to hear your words or Max’s words, it could’ve been gone sooner. Before…”

Steve watches Billy sigh, and his shoulders sag. He’s afraid to move closer and touch him because Billy was volatile even when they were in love. Because they were, no matter how rarely they said it. They fucking were, and Steve knew Billy better than anyone before he abruptly pulled away.

And Billy’s gone through hell and back. So if he even takes a soft touch again, it’ll be a miracle, as far as Steve’s concerned. But fuck, Steve wants to. He aches with the desire to hug Billy and tell him they’ll work through it, but Steve doesn’t trust it’d reach him anymore.

They both know what Vecna made him do. And considering how powerful he was, and they couldn’t even kill him on their own, Steve doesn’t believe for a second Billy had any shred of control over it.

It took the girl with the superpowers to get through to Billy. And it would, of course it would, but Steve doesn’t know how to explain that.

“I drank pool chemicals, man.”

“You… what?” Steve asks with confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, Steve, I drank fucking pool chemicals,” Billy says, and his voice rises slightly. He finally looks at Steve; his eyes are cold but bright with tears. “Everything I did while… it doesn’t matter if he’s gone. I should be dead.”

“Oh,” Steve sighs. He rubs his eyes, shakes his head, and tries not to imagine Billy doing that at the pool while he was moping and depressed, thinking Billy was nothing but a dirtbag. “Billy, man. I dunno how to explain any of this shit. But El… the girl that helped you, you know? She’s got powers. Like, mind powers. She and Will know when the Upside Down is open and around us. She said he brought you back to him to make you more powerful, and you were fine. Stuck, but, like, your body is fine.”

“So, I’m just a product of that environment now,” Billy laughs. He bites his tongue between his teeth and shakes his head. “You should’ve left me there, man. You and my fucking sister should’ve left me there.”

He snarls the last few words, almost inhuman, and the rage in Billy’s eyes is new. Steve’s seen plenty of rage—Jesus, more than he ever wanted to, but this is different.

Like a caged animal after it’s been tortured.

And Billy was tortured. With the deeds that the other world made him do and his own personal torture of having to relive his regrets for weeks or months, or years, however it works down there. The pain he caused to others and himself, not allowed or able to relive a happier memory until Max and Steve came along.

Had he been sitting there in the ash and dirt and watching his life replayed on that pristine television set the entire time everyone believed he was dead?

“No, we shouldn’t have,” Steve says, and he’s exhausted. Billy is, too, his eyes just as sunken in and dark as Steve’s. More than. “And I’m glad we didn’t. We’ll make this home for you whether you like it or not.”

Billy laughs, and heavy tears fall from his eyes. “This isn’t my home,” he says. “It never was.”

“You’re right,” Steve says. “California was. We’ll get you back there whenever you want. How about a shower first?”

He sniffs and looks away, brushing a tear off his cheek with the back of his hand. Billy grips the counter and stares down at it, and Steve wishes he knew how to fix it.

To fix all of it.

Steve turns on the shower and waits until it’s hot before he looks at Billy. “Ready. I’ll get you some clothes, okay?”

The way Billy’s arm catches around Steve’s waist before he reaches the door is familiar. Something he used to do all the time to bring Steve back to him, whether to plant a kiss on his cheek or shoulder or to make him laugh before he was out of the door.

Right now, it makes Steve’s heart seize up. But he tries not to show that as he looks at Billy closer than he’s been in over a year.

“Don’t leave,” Billy says, and his voice is low. Filled with shame and humiliation, which Steve has heard before.

It hurts, and Steve doesn’t know how to fix it.

“Oh, uh. Yeah, okay. But the clothes….” Steve trails off when Billy’s eyes meet his. “Okay, no clothes. Sure. I’m here. I’m here, Billy.”

“How much are you here, Steve?” Billy asks, turning his chin up and pursing his lips.

Steve knows he’s afraid, and he’s honestly pretty terrified of the answer too. “As much as you want me to be,” he says breathlessly. “I got a place to myself now, you know? It’s yours too if you want it.”

Billy stares at Steve, and he’s gnawing the inside of his cheek how he always does when he’s worried or scared or trying to stop from getting angry.

It’s these little things that are going to break Steve’s heart. Billy already did that once, and it wasn’t him, but this is the real Billy, with all the flaws and imperfections he’s always had. The quirks and subtle movements or shifts in mood that aren’t clear to anyone but those closest to him.

He wants them back. God, Steve wants them back, but he won’t dare ask for it.

“Yeah, alright,” Billy says quietly. Exhaustion is digging its claws into him again. “If you’re willing to risk it.”

“I willingly took a risk every moment I spent alone with you,” Steve says. “Kinda paid off for me.”

Billy smiles. A ghost of his genuine smile, but it’s there. Steve isn’t so surprised it vanishes as quickly as it came.

He doesn’t seem like he’s going to take the initiative, so Steve does, unbuttoning Billy’s jeans until Billy slaps his hands away. He gets out of them, naked as a jailbird underneath and never modest. Not even now.

There’s a lot that’s on his mind, yeah, but still. Steve tries not to stare and frowns at Billy when he turns and sees the dried, matted blood in his hair. He’s going to suggest looking up at the ceiling or closing his eyes or something, so maybe Billy doesn’t have to see it, but Billy looks at Steve.

He holds out his hand.

Steve will probably never be able to say no to Billy Hargrove again. Unless he’s being self-destructive, which… shit, this might be it, but Steve ignores that. Billy wants him close, so he’ll be close.

Gladly. And he needs a shower too.

He idly hopes Max is still sound asleep as he gets undressed and takes Billy’s hand.

The shower is big enough for both of them, and this is far from their first time using it together. They took advantage of this shower after hitting the gym, basketball court, working in the garage, or after sex.

Billy’s always been handsy. Not so much a big cuddler unless Steve went looking for it, but that didn’t mean Billy wasn’t touching him. Always, always, always fucking touching him, and what a catastrophic loss it was when he left.

The ghost of his touch haunted Steve for a long time. He lost his anchor in life, and nothing Steve has done to stop the slow sink has done him any good. He needed Billy back and accepted he wasn’t coming, so he’d always be a ship without an anchor. Letting the currents of life push him on and to places he didn’t mean to go, with only the hope he’d wash ashore rather than get pulled under.

His friends have helped, of course. They all have, even if they didn’t know what they were helping. Their shitty few years or the stresses of adulthood—no one but Robin knew that Steve was nursing a broken heart.

Max has probably put that together, and Steve isn’t looking forward to that coming around and biting him on the ass anytime soon.

He concentrates on Billy and tests the waters of touching him, but Billy doesn’t push him away. Not here, which has always been their own little world of intimacy they didn’t really share anywhere else.

Billy isn’t a cuddler, no, not unless he’s in the shower with Steve. Then he wraps himself around Steve, and it takes a lot of huffing and puffing—and laughing—to get him loose and actually take a shower.

It’s not quite the same today, but Billy’s hands hold Steve’s hips as he hangs his head and lets the hot water start washing the blood away. He keeps a grip on Steve when he coaxes Billy to turn around so he can work out the rest and hopes Billy doesn’t watch it swirl down the drain.

Steve sees he’s not injured. No puncture wounds, no holes in the middle of his chest, nothing. He frowns and squints at Billy’s back and doesn’t see a small, jagged scar he got plenty used to seeing.

Earned when he was fourteen and stole Neil’s car in one of the more brazen acts of defiance he ever tried with his dad. He crashed it, but the black eye and tears saved him from anything more than a call to his parents. That’s what Billy told Steve when he asked about the scar, which Steve used to trace the lines of.

It’s not there.

Steve idly continues washing Billy’s hair as he leans to the right and looks at Billy’s shoulder.

The tattoo isn’t there either. Steve raises his eyebrows, leans back to continue washing Billy’s hair, and doesn’t mention it.

Should he? God, he should, right? Not let Billy find out the hard way? Did he already see it before Steve came into the bathroom? It’s cruel to not mention it, isn’t it?

“Alright,” Billy sighs, and his shoulders relax inch by inch under the hot water and Steve’s hands. “What’re you obsessing about?”

“Obsessing about? Nothing. I’m not obsessing about anything,” Steve says hurriedly. “Nothing. Just. You know, uh… the whole thing. There’s a lot to think about now that it’s all done. I mean, I’d rather we get some more rest and not think about it, of course, but you know—”

“Fuuuuck,” Billy groans. “Forget I fuckin’ asked. You’re a terrible liar, Stevie.”

Steve huffs and smiles to himself. “Stop asking me questions you know I have to lie about.”

“No one said you have to lie about anything,” Billy says. “What happened to speaking truth in the face of danger?”

“Who said that? I didn’t say that,” Steve says. “These kids are in danger every other day. So I have to lie to them, like, literally all the time.”

Billy chuckles, low and weary, and it sends pleasant tingles up Steve’s spine. “I’d rather you stop lying to me,” he says. “Please, Steve.”

Steve sighs and tugs Billy back a bit so he can rinse his hair. “Yeah, alright. Truth when necessary,” he says and sighs again after Billy grunts. “Truth all the time, even if it fucking sucks.”

“Better.”

He still doesn’t tell him about the tattoo or scar, but Steve should probably mention it before they get out of the shower. It’s a thought that happily disappears as he helps Billy wash the goo off. Billy only holds Steve’s hips when he washes all the uck off, too, but that’s his anchor, and Steve will never say no.

He doesn’t say anything about the tears in Billy’s eyes either.

They get out and dry off. Steve slips out of the bathroom and into his bedroom to find clothes. A couple of old, soft shirts and pajama pants seem about right. Steve sidles back into the bathroom and helps Billy pull on the pajama pants because his leg shakes too much when he tries on his own.

Rest.

Lots and lots of rest.

Steve opens the bathroom door and jumps. “Jesus,” he says and grabs the doorframe as he looks at Max directly across the hall. She’s leaning against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest, and she looks teary.

He’s in no position to tell Max or Billy to have their reunion later on, as much as he’d like to, so Steve steps out of the way and leans against the doorframe further down the hall. He watches Billy do the same in the bathroom.

“Did you hear me?” Max asks abruptly after they stare at each other for a while.

“I don’t know,” Billy says. “Remind me what you said.”

Max purses her lips and shakes her head, looking down at her feet. “Later. I’ll remind you later,” she says and looks up at Billy. “Just your shitty little sister who’s glad to see you’re okay.”

Billy’s quiet for a time. He eventually sighs and moves into the hall, holding out his arm. After a brief hesitation, Max moves closer until she slumps against his side, and Billy’s arm tightens around her.

She’s quietly crying, and Billy doesn’t say anything, just looks at the wall across from him and gently rubs her arm until her tears eventually taper off.

“Are you going to stay with Steve?” Max asks thickly and pulls away, wiping tears off her cheeks. She looks up at Billy. “He’s got his own place.”

“So he said,” Billy says as he peers at Max. “Yeah, that’s where I’ll be. Sorry, Max. It’s better if I’m away.”

“Your dad moved to Boston. So it’s just Mom and me.”

Steve bites his lip and looks between them as Billy frowns at Max.

“Huh,” Billy says. “Good. Still better if I’m not around, kiddo.”

“Yeah, well,” Max says. “I’d like it if you were. But I get it,” she adds hurriedly and glances at Steve. “He’s the best one to stick with. Or… whatever.” She waves her hands. “You know. Anyway… your tattoo is gone.”

“Huh?” Billy asks as Steve tries not to groan. Billy looks at his shoulder. “Ahhh, fucking hell. Of course it is. Chewed me up and spit me out brand new, huh? Don’t worry,” he adds after Max cringes. “I’ll make Stevie buy me a new one.”

Max laughs and grins as she looks at Steve.

She starts crying after she looks at Billy again, and Steve walks into his bedroom to give them a moment. He changes the sheets and wonders if Billy will be up for burning the dirty ones. It feels like something he’d be wildly up for, but who knows?

Things are different. Steve can feel that, and he suspects he will see a lot of those differences once they’re at his place and trying to find steady ground. That’s just the first part of trying to find a good path for Billy, and Steve doesn’t think any of it will be paved in gold.

Later, after a bit of food and water and getting Max settled with enough to keep her busy and, hopefully, not afraid through the night, Steve lies down with Billy.

They’re both clean, and the sheets smell pretty good, bless Steve’s mom for obsessively cleaning and washing everything all the time because she can’t ever slow down.

It should feel fantastic.

But Billy’s skin is cold, and he’s shaking soon after. He lets Steve hold him close and mutters what he hopes are words of comfort but are probably rambling nonsense. Billy doesn’t tell Steve to stop, but he does once Billy’s chest is heaving with sobs.

He’s trying to stay quiet for Max, and Steve thinks he’ll get Billy in the car tomorrow and take him out of Hawkins for fresher air.

It’d probably do them both some good.

Tonight, he holds Billy and stares at the curtains over the windows as he listens to the pain, agony, and suffering bubble to the surface. Things Billy Hargrove is made of, all the way to his bones, and Steve vows he’ll do what he can to build him back up with something different.

Something Billy makes for himself.

——

“It was a government investigation.”

“It was… wait, what? What?”

“It was,” Chief Hopper says slowly as if Steve’s a child, “a government investigation.”

“No. No!” Steve says. “No fucking way it was. Yeah, yeah, I get it,” he adds and waves his hand dismissively when Hopper opens his mouth. “Jesus. Guess anything can be explained away by a government investigation. Shit. How are you, Chief?”

Chief Hopper does not look well.

He’s clearly almost bald under the ball cap he wears; he’s a lot thinner, eyes sunken like all of them. A couple of bruises are healing, splotchy with purple and yellow.

“I’m fine,” Hopper says testily. “How is he?”

Steve glances over his shoulder and up the stairs before looking at Hopper. He shrugs. “I dunno, man,” he says. “Probably about the same as you are. Peachy, right?”

Hopper thins his lips, but he sighs and nods. “Some high-class torture and dealing with everything down below does things to a man,” he says dryly. “How’s he going to be?”

“If he dealt with it all on top of the Russians like you did, I’d say he’s gonna lose,” Steve says and grins as Hopper levels him with a long look. “He’s gonna be fine. Fake funeral put on by the government, and he can’t ever say why. Maybe you should ask him yourself. You guys have a lot in common these days.”

“I love bonding with new people,” Hopper says as he straightens his ball cap. “Even the ones who tried to kill my daughter.”

Steve grimaces. “Yeah, dinners are going to get awkward,” he says. “Thanks for checking in, Chief.”

“I’m going to keep doing it, and you’re going to tell me the second things get hairy,” Hopper says and points at Steve. “The very second.”

“Clear,” Steve says and holds up his hands. “More than clear.”

Hopper eyes Steve before he turns and walks down to his truck. Steve watches him go with a grimace and closes and locks the door.

Their morning has been uneventful beyond talking Max into going home because, after a handful of bites to eat, Billy went straight back to bed. Steve tried to reassure her that she needed to be with her mom and that Billy wasn’t going anywhere, but he thinks it will take a very long time before reassurances work.

She’s worried about Billy, of course she is, and his puffy, red eyes this morning hadn’t helped. Or his lack of engagement in conversation beyond a grunt or one-word answer to things.

Steve’s worried, too, but not about that. He expects that for a while, and Max will catch on pretty quickly that Billy needs space to heal. Steve will make sure that Billy includes Max in his healing, but it can’t be constant.

He gets another pot of coffee brewing and takes two steaming mugs upstairs. Billy’s still curled up in bed, mostly buried under the comforter, and Steve eyes him as he toes out of his slippers.

“Smells good.”

Steve jumps and is immediately glad Billy’s not looking at him. He does have to silently scream after hot coffee sloshes over his finger, but thank god Billy doesn’t see that either.

“Oh, uh, yeah. Really good,” Steve says. He walks to the bed, sets the mugs down on the nightstand, and wipes his hand on his shirt. “Sorry if the bell woke you.”

Billy turns onto his back and looks up at Steve, squinting in the light filtering in beneath the curtains. It splashes yellow across his skin and gold and white through his hair. His eyes are stunning in the morning light, and this could be normal.

It was normal for a while. Not long enough.

“Wasn’t the bell,” Billy says and yawns. “It was you flying out of this bed and thinking you were being quiet while doing it.”

Steve raises his eyebrows before he sighs. “Yeah, okay. Sorry. I thought something might’ve happened,” he says and sits down on the edge of the bed. “Thankfully, it was just the government.”

Billy raises an eyebrow. “The government.”

“Oh, uh, not actually. Wait, maybe? I mean, he wasn’t in uniform, and I don’t know if he’s gonna be a cop again, but cops are still technically government… anywho,” Steve says hastily after Billy’s eyebrows raise higher. “Just the Chief checking in on things. He said the excuse was gonna be the government. An investigation into what happened because it interested the government or something. You both had a fake funeral as the lone survivors and, uh, came back to Hawkins for some reason you can’t talk about. So no one will believe it, and it’ll be a huge mess since other people died and there will be conspiracy theories abound. You know how that goes.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Billy mutters and rubs his eyes. “Put me back where you found me. It isn’t worth it.”

Steve laughs. “Yeah, sure,” he says. “People should stop bothering you.”

“Just keep staring at every fucking move I make.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s true,” Steve sighs. “Even if we can’t get you to California right away unless the Chief helps, we can at least get you out of Hawkins.”

Billy peers at Steve. “Maybe,” he says. “It’d probably be for the best, Harrington. I’d be glad to see the last of this place, and Hawkins would be glad to see the last of me.”

Definitely not all of Hawkins, Steve thinks, and purses his lips.

He nods. “Getting you somewhere more peaceful will be a priority,” Steve says. “I know I have a job, but… wait, do I? Fuck, I dunno anymore. I’ve got a pretty full bank account, though. Should be able to pay double rent for a while.”

“Not sure I like where you’re going with this.”

“There are cabins,” Steve says and holds out his hands. “Cabins in the woods. Less terrifying than it sounds. And they’re just, you know, like an hour away or something. So we could get one and chill for the rest of the spring. Come back in now and then so everyone doesn’t come up. Barely any staring.”

Steve has no idea if it’s a good idea or not. It probably isn’t. Too quiet and dark and spooky. Sticks cracking at night, pine cones dropping onto pine needles with ominous thunks, all the animals that come out when the sun goes down…

“Yeah, alright. A cabin in the woods,” Billy says. “I’ll buy what you’re selling, Harrington. We’ll see how long I can last.”

“See, it’s that right there that makes me think it might not be a good idea—”

“Joking, sweetheart. Relax,” Billy says through another yawn. He sits up, hair wild and frizzy, and grabs a mug of coffee, breathing in the steam. “Thanks, Steve.”

“Mhmm,” Steve hums as he watches Billy. “My parents aren’t back for three more days. I’ll take a look around.”

“What, all by your lonesome?”

“You don’t think you should rest?”

“Bore myself to death in this big fuckin’ house?”

Steve sighs and takes a sip of coffee. “I’d want to mope around the house, y’know, but that’s me,” he mutters. “Okay, um. Sure. We’ll drive around for a while and see what we find.”

Billy lifts his mug and drinks the entire thing in a few gulps. “Woo! Feel like a spring chicken with an urgent need to piss,” he says, shoving the sheets back and getting out of bed.

Gaping, Steve watches him go before he looks down at his coffee. He touches the mug and winces a little before taking a drink. Nope, still too scorching hot to put it down the way Billy just did.

He didn’t even flinch.

Steve tries to shake it off because it’s not… that unusual. Right?

Billy doesn’t want to do anything more than stay in bed, which is totally fair and within his right, but staying in bed all day makes Steve antsy. Even if he’s doing it with Billy.

Still, he gets back into bed after Billy does and wraps an arm around his waist. They’ve barely moved away from each other, but Steve isn’t delusional enough to think they’re back in a relationship.

They need each other now, and one day Billy will push him away. He’ll walk away, and Steve might not ever see him again.

He tightens his grip on Billy and kisses the back of his shoulder.

Steve is getting drowsy when Billy shifts a bit.

“Should’ve left me there,” he whispers and his voice cracks.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Steve shakes his head.

“It’ll be okay after some time goes by. Like everything.”

“This isn’t like everything, Steve.”

“It’ll get better, Billy. I know it will.”

Billy doesn’t say anything, and Steve knows he doesn’t believe him. But it has to get better because it already did for most of them. They’ll all get through it again, and maybe it’ll take longer for Billy, but Steve believes he can work through it.

He has to.

——

The rest of the day is spent dozing in bed. When they’re up, Steve watches Billy go through the motions of eating dinner and taking a shower. He does it mechanically like he’s not here, and Steve doesn’t like the look in his eyes.

Like nothing is behind them. No life, no will, nothing.

He talks to Max on the phone before bed, but it’s not much better, and Steve knows she’s agonizing as badly about it as he is.

Billy trembles for an hour after they lie down.

The following day, Steve and Billy leave the house. They go the long way to avoid driving through town and get on the highway. Billy’s silent the entire time, staring out of the window, and Steve squeezes the wheel tightly so his hands stop shaking.

It feels like an eternity without any music or loud, endless conversations. The Beamer isn’t the best for any off-road driving, but thankfully, they don’t have to go far into a campground to get to the little cabin that’s an office for the people that run the place.

Billy sits on the porch rather than going inside with Steve, and it’s probably for the best, but Steve has difficulty concentrating. Renting a cabin for a couple of months will hurt his wallet, and Steve has to buy food the entire time and whatever else they need. At least he only has to pay by the week. But he thinks it’s necessary and best, and they’ll only be an hour away with visits into Hawkins a handful of times.

The kids need to see him, and Steve needs to see them, but most of all, Max needs to see her brother.

She’s tough as nails as, like, a personality, but the fact that she’s willing to forgive Billy and wants to start over says a lot more about her heart than she lets on.

As they drive to cabin twenty-eight, Steve wonders if the only reason Hopper isn’t relocating Billy is because of what he just went through. He’s got to feel some sort of sympathy or empathy or whatever someone might call it. It fucking sucks any of it had to happen, but governments and their militaries can’t ever be underestimated.

He wonders if Hopper will still come to check up on them out here.

Probably not.

Cabin twenty-eight is a cute little thing with no other cabins nearby. There are many wildflowers and potted ones, and towering pine trees offer plenty of shade. There are porches on the front and back, a firepit, a bunch of windows they’ll probably cover up, and a hiking trail leading to the main one everyone uses not far from them.

Steve’s okay with navigating his way through forests even if he… really doesn’t want to anytime soon, but he can’t see Billy being the kind of person up for a hike in the woods.

Billy’s heart lies on the beach, but god knows when they’ll get him there.

Inside the cabin is nice, too, with thick rugs, a very beat-up old couch, television and a kitchenette. One bedroom, but at least the bed is absolutely massive, and they’ve got a fully operational shower.

“Not a five-star hotel or anything,” Steve says as he walks into the living room and looks at Billy. “What do you think?”

Billy is standing in front of the fireplace, looking out the window. He doesn’t answer.

“I’ll pay by the week, so if it doesn’t work out… straight back to my place. Which you’ll see today!”

He doesn’t say anything, only stares out the window, and Steve’s stomach tightens.

“Hey, man, we don’t have to stay at all,” Steve says. “Not if this is too much, you know? We could get outside of Hawkins, but in, like, a city. Get jobs where no one knows our faces—”

“It’s not too much.”

“Oh! Oh, okay. Cool. Great. Then we’ll—”

“You’re not obligated to do anything for me, Steve.”

Billy hasn’t moved an inch and doesn’t look at Steve.

Steve starts to feel ill. “I know I’m not. I’m not doing anything because I feel obligated to,” he says as gently as he can manage. “I want to. Of course I want to. You should know that.”

“Should I?” Billy asks, and his voice is lower with a dark amusement that doesn’t settle right in Steve’s gut. “Should I know that, Harrington? After what I did to you?”

“What that thing did to you,” Steve says. “It wasn’t you. You’re gonna have to accept that someday. You had no control over it. I should’ve seen that something wasn’t right rather than—”

“Thinking I just left you for some chick I didn’t even know,” Billy says and chuckles. “Yeah. You didn’t think anything was wrong because that was something you could see me doing. Because it might’ve been something I did someday. I don’t know. But that’s who I am and who you believed I was.”

“Billy, I knew something was wrong. I just didn’t think it was… I didn’t think it was that,” Steve says. “We closed the gate, which we’re starting to realize doesn’t do a whole lot. But I thought we were getting past it, you know? I knew… I thought it was me, or you were trying to play a part fucking… society expects. So, yeah, I got angry, but that was stupidity.”

“Nah,” Billy says and turns to face Steve. His blue eyes are shining, and his hands are starting to tremble. “It wasn’t. Maybe you knew something was wrong, but you convinced yourself it was just me.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Billy—”

“I’m not looking for you to be sorry!” Billy snarls, and that rage from a couple of days ago is back. “I’m looking for you to fucking leave. Get the fuck out while you still can, Steve. That’s what I want. He was able to use me because of who I am and what I’m made out of. You believed it was me because of the same fuckin’ thing. You need to let me go.”

“No,” Steve says firmly and holds up his hands. “Fuck, no. I’m not leaving you to do what you want to do. I’m not leaving you to sit with all this alone because that’s not what I do, Billy.”

Billy laughs, and tears fall. “Yeah. Yeah, Steve Harrington, the hero and protector of Hawkins, right? That’s who you are,” he says. “I don’t need a hero or protection. I don’t deserve it. You know I don’t. That’s why you didn’t notice.”

Steve’s heart is thundering away, and he feels sick. This hurts, and he’s running on fumes still, doesn’t know what to say, and is afraid he’s going to just make it worse.

A lot of the times he opens his mouth, he makes things worse. Billy always thought it was funny rather than getting pissed off, but it’s not the same anymore.

He’s not, and it hurts Steve more than he’ll ever be able to say.

“I didn’t notice,” Steve says quietly. “And I’ll always be sorry for that.”

“No, no, no,” Billy says and laughs. He waves his hand like he’s trying to get rid of a bothersome fly. “I don’t blame you. Don’t you start blaming yourself, man. It was me. It’ll always be me, Steve. So get the fuck out before I hurt you again. I know how much I hurt you because I can see it whenever I look at you.”

“Billy,” Steve sighs. “I don’t care about that. I know what happened now. You think I really care about how hurt I was a fucking year ago? It’s nothing. I’m hurting because you’re hurt, and I don’t know how to make it right.”

“Because you can’t,” Billy says and smiles. “And you never will.”

Steve stares at him before he shakes his head and turns away, resting his hands on his hips. “Yeah, well. I was always the optimistic one. So, if you’re going to believe everything will always be shit, forever and ever, I’ll be the one to have hope. We’ve all gotten through it, and you’re not the only one to be possessed. Will made it through it.”

“Did he feed the monster?” Billy asks, and his chin wobbles, but he’s angry. “Did he offer up people for it to feed on so it could be here? Did he lure people in and watch that fucking thing eat them?”

“Billy—”

“That’s what I fucking did,” Billy hisses. “And I remember it. So don’t fucking compare me to those kids. They’re not monsters.”

“You ever hear them say they’re not?” Steve asks. “You think Will and El haven’t ever said they’re monsters? They have, man. You’re not alone, Billy.”

“I should be!” Billy snaps. His eyes are wild again but still filled with tears. “You need to leave. You need to get away from me because I’m just going to pull you under. So get out while the gettin’ is good, Steve.”

“No,” Steve says and shrugs. “No. I’m not leaving.”

“I’m not fucking around—”

“Neither am I. I’m not leaving.”

“Steve, please,” Billy whispers hoarsely. “Please leave.”

“No,” Steve says and walks closer to Billy. “Never. Never in your wildest fucking dreams am I ever leaving.”

Billy breaks down, and Steve thanks whatever god may be out there that he lets Steve hold him through it. It’s heartwrenching. Almost worse than anything Steve has seen or experienced, and he doesn’t know what to do.

He feels like a kid faced with this, but he knows a bunch of shithead kids who power through it all because they love each other and are nosey bodies who have to get involved with monsters.

So, kid or not, Steve will power through this because Billy needs him. He needs anyone he can get, which Steve will try to provide, but Steve needs help too.

He needs advice on doing this right and not messing Billy up even more. He needs advice on how to make this better, and Steve thinks he knows who to go to.

As soon as possible.

——

“So, you’re saying… wait, I don’t actually know. What are you saying?”

Joyce sighs, twisting her lips to the side of her mouth as she rests her hand on the kitchen counter and the other on her hip. “I’m saying you gotta let him scream it out. Cry it out. You have to let him get all of…” she trails off and gestures like she’s pulling something out of her chest. “Everything out. He needs to do it his way, and it will hurt, but you have to let him.”

Steve scrunches up his nose and crosses his arms. “Okay. Yeah. I mean, I don’t really have a choice, but it’s kind of… I dunno, it’s overwhelming!” he says and frowns. “It’s not just letting it out either. He wants to be, you know….”

“Self-destructive?” Joyce asks with a sympathetic smile.

“Yeah,” Steve says and points at the ceiling. “That. I feel like I can’t leave him alone.”

“You could’ve invited him in.”

“I did!” Steve says and gestures emphatically at the kitchen wall. “He just wants to sit in the damn car and not see anyone.”

“Yeah,” Joyce sighs, “that’s something you have to do too, Steve. Don’t let him isolate himself, you know? I know it’s hard,” she says after Steve grimaces. “Trust me, I know. And you know my kid wanted to do it too. His friends didn’t let him, and I didn’t let him.”

Steve sighs and leans against the counter, holding his head in his hands. “Which is great and all. Will’s doing good. Billy doesn’t have any friends,” he mutters. “He’s got me and Hopper threatening to kill him if he steps a toe out of line.”

Joyce snorts. “See if I let him,” she says. “He’s got you, Steve. He’s got Max.”

“I am definitely not enough,” Steve says as he looks at her. “I’m not enough. Me and Max put together aren’t enough.”

“So, get him more company,” Joyce says and holds out her hands after Steve gapes at her. “You’ve got friends. You’ve got a whole gang of kids at your beck and call.”

“The kids?” Steve asks. “Really? The actual children? After everything he did before and… and during it, I don’t think they’ll exactly be raring to come to his rescue. God, why would you even want Will around him?”

“Hey, you came looking for advice, and I’m giving it,” Joyce says. “I’m not worried about Will when he’s with you. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders when you use it.”

Steve sighs. “Thanks. Thank you for that,” he says. He smiles, unable to help it, after Joyce chuckles. “Still. I think I have a good point.”

“And so do I,” Joyce says and pokes Steve’s shoulder. “Let him get it out. Don’t let him get self-destructive, but don’t force him when he’s not ready. Don’t let him get isolated. Let him see other people care, and he’s not alone.”

“By putting the kids in front of him.”

“They’ve gone through it, Steve.”

“Hopper will literally kill me where I stand.”

“No, he won’t,” Joyce says and waves her hand as Steve looks at her skeptically. “He won’t! He might act tough, but the guy’s going through it too. Real bad,” she adds and looks as exhausted as Steve feels. “Even if he thinks he isn’t. You and I are going to be playing the same role for a while. El and the kids will help him. They’ll help Billy too.”

Steve shakes his head and rubs his chin. “I think Billy would rather launch himself out of the window than be around anyone else,” he mutters. “I’m having a hard enough time getting him to enjoy my company.”

Joyce smiles and shrugs her shoulder. “When he’s ready, kiddo,” she says. “You’ll know it.”

“How will I know it, exactly?”

“It’s intuition. You’ve got it somewhere.”

“Thank you again,” Steve says and laughs. “Jesus. What about the cabin? The cabin’s a good idea, right?”

“I don’t know,” Joyce says and smiles. “I don’t know him. I thought moving the kids would be best, but it was hard on them. Will needed the fresh air, and El needed the safety. But we all came back home when we needed to. Wanted to.”

Steve peers at her before he looks out at the living room. “Right,” he sighs. “Right, okay. I mean, I went from chasing girls and working at the video store to pulling someone out of the Upside Down who is… Jesus, he’s a mess. I’m not qualified for this.”

“I don’t think anyone is, kiddo,” Joyce says and pats Steve’s shoulder. “But you adapt because you have to. For them.”

“Right,” Steve says and squints a little. “Yeah, okay. Fine. I’ll do what I can and make sure it’s my best.”

“All you can do, really. Something tells me you’ll succeed.”

Steve smiles and looks at Joyce. “Hey, as long as one person thinks I will,” he says. “Thanks, Missus Byers.”

“Joyce,” she says and smiles. “You’ve earned it.”

He laughs.

Kind of wishes his mom was a little more like Joyce. Warmer.

Steve leaves shortly after, and he’s immensely relieved to see Billy sitting in the car still. He’s got his seat back, and Metallica is on the radio as the car idles.

Billy is wearing a pair of Steve’s sunglasses, and his arm rests against the door. It’s so painfully familiar that Steve could fool himself into thinking it’s normal. Unfortunately, it’s far from that, but he’ll do his damndest to make it better.

He slides into the driver’s seat and glances at Billy. “You hungry?”

“Not really,” Billy says. “You figure things out?”

“Not really,” Steve says and smiles. “You know how long it takes me.”

Billy looks at Steve from over the sunglasses. “Yeah, I do,” he says. “Good luck, sweetheart.”

Steve waves his hand dismissively before glancing over his shoulder to back out of the driveway. “Where we’re going, we don’t need luck.”

Billy hums and sounds amused. “Where’s that, Harrington?”

“Man, I dunno. Burger King?”

“Fuck. Clog my arteries. Fine.”

“Worry more about the cigarettes, huh?”

“Hey, that reminds me. Stop at the convenience store because I’m running low.”

“Make me.”

“Easy.”

Steve sighs and squeezes the wheel in his hands. “Burger King and cigarettes,” he says. “Welcome back to Hawkins.”

Billy chuckles. “The best welcome back imaginable, isn’t it, Stevie?”

He glances at Billy and smiles before looking back at the road. “I can imagine better,” he says lightly. “Loads better.”

“I don’t want to know,” Billy drawls and looks out the window. “Watch your step, man.”

“How can I watch my step when you’re staring at my ass the whole time?”

“What, you can’t walk and be flattered at the same time?”

Steve smiles. “You know I can’t do two things at once.”

Billy laughs, glances at Steve, and looks out of the window. He doesn’t say anything, so he must agree.

Steve’s just going to have to impress him.

——

Billy seems to like Steve’s place. He smirks at a few decor items and shakes his head at its cleanliness. Drags his finger along the kitchen countertop to show Steve there’s not a speck on it.

Cleaning gives him peace, man, and Billy knows it.

Still, it’s a one-bedroom apartment. Steve expects Billy to join him in bed, but he starts talking about sleeping on the couch, and Steve refuses. It’s a weird fight, considering how close they’ve been to each other the past few days.

Patience. Steve has to have patience while Billy remembers how to be human and work through what he did when he was possessed. It’s like the older guys that went to Vietnam and returned all fucked up. Like Hopper, but Steve wouldn’t ever say it.

Man, that guy has to be screwed up six ways to Sunday.

Eventually, with a lot of pain and hurt feelings, Billy agrees to share the bed. A ridiculous argument that has Steve seething for about five minutes before he realizes this is it.

This is self-destructive. It’s isolation. It’s what he can’t let happen to Billy. So he’s going to have to tap into the patience the kids have forced him to have and hold Billy’s hand through it.

He wants to. More than wants to, but they’ll probably have missteps.

Steve’s got to tell the kids and his friends about absconding to the middle of the woods. He can picture it clearly; everyone will say it’s a bad idea. Max might want to join them. He’ll have to put his foot down.

Another mess, but whatever. Steve has to handle it.

That night, at 2:17 in the morning, Billy has a nightmare.

A god-awful nightmare that makes him wake up screaming, afraid to be touched, unaware of where he is, and needing to be talked down from it. It takes forty minutes altogether, but they feel like slogging through the trenches to get somewhere safe, and Steve gets back into bed after Billy does and holds the comforter tight in his hands to stop shaking.

Dustin Henderson checks in at five the following morning, another shitshow, and Steve decides he can spare some impatience.

The gates are closed. No idea where the next strike will come from, though, so best be on their toes, as Dustin puts it.

Steve’s bite wounds itch, so once Billy calms down and sinks back into the mattress, muttering something about strangling children, he walks into the bathroom.

The wounds have been healing slowly, but not badly. They all kind of expected him to go full-on The Fly, but no weird Upside Down rabies or worse. Just healing slowly.

He removes the bandages on his sides and raises his eyebrows as he looks down at the one on his right, which was worse.

His skin is pink rather than inflamed red and the bite looks much smaller with only a scab remaining. It’s the same on the other one, and he frowns because he changed them at eleven last night, and they looked a lot worse.

“You pick up some healing powers recently?”

Steve jumps. “Jesus,” he says and looks at Billy as he smirks and leans against the doorway. “No, I didn’t. But they look better, right?”

“I was a little afraid that one was too warm earlier,” Billy says, pointing at Steve’s right side. “I guess that’s stress, losing sleep, and kids for you.”

“Yeah, well,” Steve laughs. “Good for the soul or whatever kids are. Actually….” he trails off and squints. “Dustin said all the gates were closed.”

“Uh-huh. Heard him loud and clear.”

“Yeah, sorry. I forgot to turn the volume down,” Steve says and turns to point at Billy. “But the gates are closed. You know what happens when we close the gates?”

Billy shrugs as he looks Steve up and down. “You hit the bench before Coach calls you back in?”

“No. Well, yes. God, yeah, that’s how it is. Definitely,” Steve says. “But I meant that the bad guys die whenever we’ve closed the gates. They can’t live up here, right? So they just fucking… drop where they’re standing. I got bit by those mutant bat things, the last gate was closed in the last hour, and bam! Their weird bacteria or whatever is gone. Dead. Just good ol’ human cells repairing themselves.”

Billy tips his head back against the doorframe as he watches Steve. He squints and shrugs. “Sounds like you got a good deal finally, Harrington,” he says and winks. “You probably would’ve become one of those yourself before too long.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve sighs. “I know. I mean, I didn’t really feel like a mutant bat. No vampiric whims or dramatics. No wings. Wings would’ve been cool, though, right?”

“So cool,” Billy says and laughs. “Would’ve been the talk of the town. Take that spotlight off Hopper and me for a while.”

“I’d gladly do it if I could, but no wings,” Steve says and turns on the sink to wash his hands. “How come you’re not in bed, huh?” He grabs a fresh bandage and jumps when Billy plucks it out of his hand.

Billy shrugs as he moves closer, slowly pulling back the tabs to press the adhesive against Steve’s skin. He’s gentle as he presses around the four corners to ensure they stick.

“A little hard to turn everything off when I get woken up by someone hissing your name like a bad dream,” Billy mutters. “That static noise. Me and it, Stevie? We aren’t too fond of each other.”

“Oh,” Steve sighs and frowns. “Right, yeah. I’ll make sure it’s in another room or the dumpster, so those shitheads have to be decent and use the phone.”

“No worries, sweetheart,” Billy says as he grabs a second bandage to do Steve’s other side. “I was used to it once upon a time. You want me to get used to it again, don’t you?”

“Well… yeah,” Steve says as he eyes Billy, who isn’t looking at him. “You know I do. But, I thought you might want a little more peace before you hear them bugging me at all hours of the day.”

“Nah,” Billy says and looks at Steve with a grin. “Be mommy dearest whenever and however you want to be. I won’t get in the way.”

He leaves the bathroom with another wink and disappears into the bedroom. Steve stares after him and chews on his lip.

That might sound good on paper, but it sure as shit doesn’t feel good. Which means… Steve has to do something about it to make it good. God knows what that is because his supposed intuition isn’t telling him shit.

He walks into the bedroom and sees Billy is back under the comforter, pulled up tight to his jaw, curled up and facing the wall. Billy always slept like no one else was in bed, sprawled out and taking up all the damn space, but not anymore.

It reminds Steve of when he was a kid and thought being as small and quiet as possible would save him from the boogeyman.

Steve sighs and closes the door, and crawls back into bed behind Billy. He touches his hip, and after Billy relaxes a bit, Steve moves closer and wraps his arm around his waist.

“When’s that paper come out?”

“Oh, uh. I think it came out yesterday because Hopper has to show his face, and they had to prepare everyone for it,” Steve says. “So, they’re, you know. Prepared for you too.”

“Nobody’s ever been prepared for me.”

“I can only imagine. Probably came out of the womb ready to take on the world. A couple of finger guns and that winning smile.”

“You know it, Harrington,” Billy says. “Gotta find that charm again.”

He says it like he expects it’ll never come back again. He’ll never be normal again. Which is true, but everyone’s a little changed from it all. At least the ones that had it as hard as Billy.

“Don’t worry,” Steve sighs. “You’re not gonna be able to help it soon.”

Billy grunts. “You got any of my weights still?”

Steve raises his eyebrows as he stares at the back of Billy’s head. “Yeah, actually,” he says quietly. “I do. I couldn’t bring them here, but my dad put them in the shed. Should all be there still.”

“Good,” Billy says. “I want to lift.”

That would usually be fine by Steve. Except none of what Billy wants to do really comes off normal—not the way he asks, the attitude he has about it, and his intentions don’t feel right.

But maybe Steve is only paranoid. He’s worried about Billy pushing himself too soon when he needs rest, but he was, like, reborn, so maybe he doesn’t. He looks exhausted, but that could be the whole… well, all of it.

And that was a thing they did all the time. Mostly Billy did it, but Steve was always with him because they brought his weights to his parents’ place. They had a big empty space in the garage, and Steve asked politely if his friend could bring his bar and weights over so they could lift, and his parents said that was fine.

Billy came over when their days off coincided or when Steve’s parents were out of town. They blasted music, and Steve was mostly his spotter because lifting didn’t interest him. He preferred running and made Billy do that with him in between.

It was always a good time. Jesus, it was. Watching Billy get pumped up, wild from the music and doing one of his favorite things, and being so genuinely himself without prying eyes… was great. And it hurt to lose that, too, just like everything else hurt when Steve realized they were gone.

And he was so sad and upset about Billy moving on while he was being controlled by the Upside Down, so maybe wanting to lift is entirely normal.

“Yeah, man. Of course,” Steve says and rubs Billy’s hip. “Whatever you want.”

Billy doesn’t say anything, but his shoulder unwinds, and some of the tension leaves. After a handful of minutes, he’s back to sleep, and Steve watches him breathe.

He’s not going to get any more rest, but Steve will take this. Billy’s soft, steady breaths and warm skin mean he’s alive. He’s fucking alive, and Steve won’t let him spiral.