well if I had written the s2 script i'd have written max's classroom introduction scene as being intercut with a scene of billy being introduced to his own classroom. and the teacher goes "this is maxine"-"it's max actually" and it's paralled with the other teacher going "this is william"-"it's billy actually" and have his classmates (consisting of the older teen characters) have a reaction like the party has a reaction to max idk idk just something to make it immediately clear that these two are siblings even if not blood-related, and more similar than they want to admit anyone and themselves.
when the kids visit steve and billy in california they expect… something awkward. maybe tension. maybe silence.
instead, billy’s flipping burgers in board shorts, hair sun-bleached, sunglasses on and smile real. he teases dustin about his sunburn and tosses him some aloe vera gel. gives mike tips about growing out his hair. tells lucas his jump shot’s gotten better. lets will pick the next movie. buys eggos especially for el.
when they go the beach, billy’s out surfing. shoulders out, scars catching light, grin wide. steve watches him from the sand with a wide grin. sometimes billy falls just to be dramatic, flips off a wave and hollers like a wild thing. the kids watch and cheer him on. and steve’s heart? gone. fully wrecked.
and max….she just stands there for a beat. watching. taking it all in.
it hits her like a punch and a hug. this version of him. this bright, open thing. and she realizes it’s not new. it’s old. buried. bruised under neil’s storm.
he’s always been this, somewhere inside.
“i’m happy for you,” she says quietly later, as they’re making their way back home.
au where it was max and billy who got the High Emotions Hug instead of dustin and steve ((not that I dont adore the dustin and steve hug omg I've rewatched it so many mfin times))
I haven't had a chance to skim much of this book yet, but this part really got to me. This is the scene where Billy appears to Max during the graveyard letter.
Despite how scared Max was, she felt love toward her stepbrother, and she saw it as a gift to see him again.
The Cali siblings! If only they had a better circumstance, I'm sure they would have been like a real brother and sister.
Billy and Max hate the food in Indiana. Everything is bland. The only seasoning anyone uses regularly is — salt — Pepper is mostly decorative.
Half the dishes are covered covered in mayonnaise.
“It’s not even the good mayonnaise!”
Billy is ready to drive 500 miles for a bottle of hot sauce. Any hot sauce. Desperate times.
All Max wants is introduce garlic to her mom’s friends.
“Oh, wow. This garlic is so spicy!”
They’re going out of their god damn minds.
There is absolutely no ethnic food. No Mexican. No Chinese. No Thai. No Moroccan. No Mediterranean.
At this point, they’ll settle for a crispy crust pizza with red pepper flakes. Or pesto instead of red sauce.
No red pepper flakes in Hawkins.
“We might have some paprika, hold on!”
“Is pesto… like presto chango?”
“They must mean preggo, the pasta sauce, right?”
They sob.
His coworkers at the pool think he’s making shit up when he tells them about Turkish coffee with spices like cardamom and ginger. That he’s into weird nerdy crap or is just trying to pull one over on them.
Max misses the spicy hummus from the Lebanese place her and Billy used to walk by on their way home from school. He always flirted with the manager and that’s how they got it and walked home stuffing their faces in triumph.
They. Miss. Seafood.
They haven’t had crab, halibut, or snapper in a year.
No crab legs on the pier drowning in Cajun seasoning.
No poached halibut with lemon and fennel. Hell, Max would take dill at this point!
“Fried Halibut tacos with salsa verde?”
“I hate you, Billy stop.”
No snapper Barbados. Or piccata. Or veracruzana.
Kearny Mesa.
They both almost cry.
They’d kill for some dim sum. Or chicken and pork soup dumplings.
Or the how boba tea always hit the spot on a hot day when they were running around outside, just anywhere to be out of the house.
The food in Indiana sucks. Both of them struggle to eat much of anything.
Description~ It's high school...Max and Lucas break up for the millionth time but something about this time feels so different than the others. She feels the need to self destruct and she brings Jane along with her. A high school party goes awry and Jane has to call the last person Max would want to face in her state.
warnings: drinking, parties, angry Cali-siblings, fighting, mention of blood, mention of injuries, mention of non consensual touching and grabbing.
The music was way too loud, rattling the floor and almost making Max’s teeth ache. She winced as she stepped inside, the bass pounding so hard it felt like it might knock the air from her lungs. Even after years growing up with Billy’s endless stereo battles, this was different. It was like the party itself was trying to drown out everything real, everything sober.
She thought about turning around and leaving. Maybe she should just go home, curl up in bed, and try to forget how wrecked she felt inside. But the idea of facing her own room-empty, silent, and full of reminders-was even worse. This wasn’t something a night in with Jane, couple of magazines and a pint of ice cream was going to fix.
At least, that’s what she tried convincing herself of.
A worried voice cut through the noise, barely audible above the chaos.
“Max, why are we here?” Jane’s voice was tight, her makeup smeared eyes darting nervously around, like she was waiting for something bad to happen. She hovered so close Max could feel her anxiety radiating off her.
Max forced a laugh, pushing past a group of shouting guys. They were both dressed for a party. Much their style but now a little more daring. “Because sitting at home sucks, and I need-” She cut herself off, biting back the truth as she made her way into the house. She needed to forget. She needed something loud, something reckless, something that would let her pretend she wasn’t falling apart. Jane stumbled after her, eyes wide.
It was a weak excuse, and Jane knew it. But Max couldn’t bring herself to say the real reason: she couldn’t handle the silence, the heartbreak, the way Lucas’s words still rang in her ears.
His voice haunted her, echoing in her mind like a song she couldn’t turn off.
“I can’t do this again, Max.”
He wasn’t angry. He was just tired. The kind of tired that felt final, like he’d already given up.
“Every other day, you’re mad because I forget something. Or you threaten to break up with me. Or you actually do. The mind games… I can’t do it anymore. I feel like I’m losing you, over and over. I’m done.”
This time was different. There was no shouting, no dramatic storming out. Just a quiet, cold break-like something deep inside her snapped.
Every other breakup was loud, messy. This one? It was just silence, finality. Lucas had reached his limit. Max felt it, heavy and sharp, like a bruise that wouldn’t heal.
Max snapped at Lucas over the smallest things. Slamming doors, rolling her eyes, picking fights about nothing. She didn’t even try to stop herself-sometimes it felt easier to be angry than scared. Especially with him. She knew he’d always apologize, always bend over backward to fix things, his voice soft and desperate: “Max, please, I meant nothing by it.” And she loved that power, even if it twisted her up inside. She loved knowing she could make him chase her, even as she pushed him away.
But the games-making him beg, threatening to break up so often it became a punchline-they weren’t funny anymore. She was too old for this crap. Maybe she needed to stop acting like a kid, stop pretending drama and chaos made love stronger. Maybe she needed to stop hurting people just because she felt so empty.
Max pushed her way into the kitchen, barely glancing at the table before grabbing a random plastic full cup. She gulped it down without a second thought, barely registering the burn in her throat-she wanted it to sting, wanted something to feel real. Then she snatched up whatever was closest, ladling neon blue liquid into her cup like she was daring herself to go farther.
Jane hovered at her side, voice thin and worried. “Max, you don’t like that stuff. You’re acting crazy.”
Max shot her a look, rolling her eyes. “ I don’t care. Tonight, I need to feel something. Come on, you should try it too.” She shoved a cup at Jane, her grin reckless and wild. “Who cares? We’re in high school. we’re supposed to do this. Loosen up. You’ve been under constant supervision your whole life. Don’t you want to feel like the rest of us do?”
Jane stared at the cup, hesitant. Whatever Max was doing. Trying to persuade her to join, it wasn’t working. “Max, you’re scaring me. You’re not yourself-”
But Max didn’t stop to listen. She plunged into the crowd, yelling out a loud welcoming roar and swallowing down another mouthful. She let herself sink into the noise, desperate for anything loud enough to drown out the emptiness threatening to swallow her whole.
At first, Max thought she was pulling it off. The noise, the bodies, the music-they blurred the edges of her mind, numbing everything she’d wanted to forget. For a few minutes, she could almost convince herself the buzz was enough.
She lost track of time and drinks as laughter echoed around her; too loud, too sharp. Every time someone handed her another cup, she didn’t even hesitate; she wanted the burn, the haze, anything but the ache inside. Sweat dripped down her arms as she danced the night away, but Max barely noticed. She kept moving, kept drinking, determined not to let anything catch up to her.
Jane stayed nearby, her posture rigid, eyes darting anxiously every time Max took another drink or stumbled. She kept reaching out, hoping to steady her friend or at least anchor her in the chaos.
“Max,” Jane said after a while, her voice almost drowned out by the music, “This isn’t right. You’re not okay.” She sounded desperate, her worry coming through in every word.
Max forced herself to laugh, but it came out cracked and brittle. “Relax. It’s just a party. This is what everyone does, right?” She tried to sound convincing, but she couldn’t meet Jane’s eyes.
“It’s not just a party,” Jane pressed, her voice trembling. “You’re… spiraling and you know it.”
Max turned, her gaze foggy and unsteady. She tried to act tough “Wow, big word,” she scoffed, but her tone was almost mocking, almost sad.
“I learned it from you.” Jane’s reply came softly, but Max felt the words land. She blinked, struggling to focus on her friend, the haze of alcohol making it harder.
Those words stung more than Max expected. She looked away, jaw clenched, refusing to admit anything else.
“Then you know I’m fine,” she snapped, but her voice was shaky, her bravado slipping.
The room spun, and Max gripped the edge of a nearby table as if it could anchor her to the present.
The world tilted sideways, or maybe Max did. She couldn’t tell anymore. Someone bumped her, voices blurred, everything felt messy and wrong, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop.
Jane grabbed Max’s arm, her grip tight and protective. “Come on, let’s get out of here,” she pleaded, her anxiety clear in her trembling hands.
Max jerked her arm away, stumbling slightly, fueled by alcohol and stubbornness. “No, I just got here!” she slurred, her frustration boiling over.
“You’re not okay,” Jane insisted, her voice breaking as she watched Max unravel and ignored her pleas.
“I said I’m-” Max started, but her words were interrupted as she suddenly lost her balance. The floor seemed to wobble under her, and she grabbed the nearest table, knocking over a cup that spilled neon blue liquid everywhere.
Laughter erupted around her…loud, careless, not exactly cruel but not compassionate either. Max felt tiny, exposed, as if everyone could see right through her. Her eyes darted out to the crowd of her peers. Her loose red hair already a mess in tangles and sweat.
Jane stepped in front of Max, blocking her from the crowd, her expression fierce and determined. “We’re leaving, Max. Now,” she demanded, not budging.
Just as Jane reached out again, someone else barged between them- a taller, muscular guy, too close for Jane’s comfort. She tensed, ready to defend her friend.
“Hey… you’re Sinclair’s girl, right?” Tony, one of Lucas’s teammates, asked with a casual arrogance, completely ignoring Jane. Max’s annoyance faded, replaced with flirtatious curiosity. She flashed him a half-smile, barely steady.
“Not anymore,” she said, her tone exaggeratedly playful. Tony grinned, clearly pleased by her response.
“Good to know.” Max grabbed his drink without asking, taking a bold swig from his red solo cup, ignoring Jane’s look of alarm. Tony wrapped a strong arm around the smaller red head.
“Dance with me,” she declared, pulling Tony onto the dance floor. She didn’t ask, just acted, desperate for any distraction.
Jane watched, defeated and angry, realizing Max was spiraling out of control. If Jane tried to use her powers to help, she risked drawing too much attention-something Hopper warned her about repeatedly. But she couldn’t let Max destroy herself.
“Fine,” Jane whispered, glaring at her best friend, torn between worry and fear for what might happen next.
“You leave me no choice…” Jane muttered, her voice heavy with resolve and sadness.
The garage reeked of oil, metal, and heat-even late at night, Hawkins couldn’t cool down the place. Sweat trickled down Billy’s neck, sticking his shirt to his skin, but he barely noticed as he worked under the maroon BMW.
Billy was halfway under the car when the phone started ringing. He didn’t hear it at first; the Rock station blared from the boom box on his workbench, drowning out everything except the thrum of the bass.
“You sure you know what you’re doing down there, Hargrove?” Steve’s voice cut through the noise, teasing but unmistakable. Billy rolled his eyes, catching the glint of Steve’s smile-the kind that always lingered a little too long. The music dropped to a whisper, Steve’s hand pausing on the dial.
“You wanna take a crack at whatever is causing that horrible noise in your car, pretty boy?” Billy shot back, his tone sharp but the smirk on his face betraying a challenge. “Feel free to get your hands dirty. Or you could do us both a favor and shut the fuck up. But who am I kidding, you wouldn’t get grease underneath those newly manicured nails of yours.” He slid out from under the car, meeting Steve’s eyes, their banter charged-but never too hostile. Steve couldn’t help his eyes linger this time for a beat. Billy grabbed a wrench, the brush up against Steve’s knee was no accident.
Steve straightened from his position on the stool bench defensively but grinned, eyes twinkling. “Hey! It’s not a manicure, alright? My cuticles just needed some love. Robin’s cousin fixed me up.” He held up his hands, flexing his fingers ostentatiously, maybe hoping Billy would notice.
“Uh huh-” Billy replied, only half listening as he shifted through his tool box for what he was looking for, but Steve’s presence kept him anchored in the moment.
Steve tossed his hair, leaning closer. “You know, maybe you could use a little nail care yourself. Might make you look less like you crawled out of an engine.” He snickered, grabbing a black rubber from the work bench and tossing it a few times in the air.
The phone’s shrill ring pierced the tension now that the music was nearly silent. Billy snapped his gaze to it, the relaxed air suddenly gone.
“Son of a bitch.” Billy cursed, groaning as he pushed himself up from the creeper, impatience and annoyance flickering across his face -Steve didn’t miss it.
He snatched up the phone after the fifth ring, answering with a gruff, familiar tone.
“This better be good. Garage is closed. What do you want?” He answered uninterestedly.
Jane’s voice came through, steady but tight. “Billy.” Instantly, Billy’s bravado slipped-his jaw clenched, knuckles whitening around the receiver. Steve stopped bouncing the ball, watching Billy’s whole demeanor change from cocky to anxious.
“What happened?” The question tumbled out, sharp and urgent. He could tell immediately from Jane’s voice that something was wrong.
“It’s Max.” Jane’s words were enough; Billy’s worry was palpable, his chest tight as he waited for the details.
That was all it took-Billy was already reaching for his jacket, his mind racing, barely able to focus. Steve watched closely, concern etched across his face.
“I’m on my way,” Billy barked, urgency raw in his voice as he hung up the phone.
Steve was waiting for Billy to explain when he noticed him wiping his hands a little too fast and grabbing his jacket instead of his usual post-job beer, Steve’s brow furrowed. He straightened, his voice tightening with unease. “Billy? What’s up, man?”
Billy didn’t even glance over, his attention locked somewhere distant. Steve could tell it wasn’t just about the job but the phone call. The easy back-and-forth between them had vanished, replaced by a heavy silence. Steve shifted from foot to foot, his concern growing.
“Hey.” Steve tried again, voice lower this time, a real edge of worry. “Billy, seriously. What’s going on?” He watched as Billy yanked his keys off the hook, the way his hands shook just a little.
Billy paused by the door, knuckles white around the keys. He finally muttered, barely looking up, “If this is as bad as I think, someone’s gonna pay for it.” His voice cracked between anger and fear. For a split second, Steve saw just how scared Billy really was before he masked it again and started for the door.
Billy muttered over his shoulder, “Car’ll be ready for you tomorrow, Harrington,” barely making eye contact as he strode toward the Camaro.
“Wait-Hargrove, hold up!” Steve jogged after Billy, worry creasing his brow. “Are you sure you don’t need a hand?”
Billy paused, his grip tightening on his keys. For a second, he looked back, uncertainty flickering across his face before he quickly masked it.
He jerked his chin toward the passenger side. “Get in.”
Jane sat hunched on the curb, arms hugging herself for warmth, her gaze unfocused and distant. The familiar rumble of Billy's car echoed down the street, and for the first time all night, Jane felt a wave of relief. She drew a shaky breath, sitting a little straighter as the sound grew closer.
Headlights swept across the street, illuminating her and the scattered beer bottles littering the sidewalk.
Billy's Camaro screeched to a stop, tires crunching over loose gravel, the car angled awkwardly as he parked too fast.
He flung the door open, barely waiting for the engine to cut off, and strode toward Jane, breath visible in the chilly night air.
“Jane, are you alright? What happened?” Billy demanded, voice rough but worried, his arm instinctively wrapping around her shoulders once she stood up. Jane tucked herself closer, grateful for his solid presence, her body trembling against his.
“She’s not okay.” The words came out flat and shaky, and Billy felt the hairs on his arms stand up knowing she was talking about Max.”
“She’s still inside?” Billy asked and Jane gestured weakly toward the house, her eyes flicking to the glow spilling from the windows.
“I tried to get her out, but she won’t listen. She’s... spiraling.” Jane’s voice cracked, and she looked away, ashamed.
Billy exhaled sharply, his jaw clenched. He gave Jane a gentle squeeze and nodded. “Go wait in the car with Steve. I’ll be right back.”
He watched her make her way to the Camaro, then squared his shoulders, turning and walked up the steps toward the party, determination set in his stride.
As he stepped inside, the smell hit him-sweat, stale beer, fresh booze, bodies pressed together, music thudding through the floorboards. Billy grimaced, remembering nights he'd spent in places like this, glad those days were behind him.
But for Max, it looked like the chaos was just beginning.
Billy swallowed hard, realizing he’d never really prepared himself to help her through this.
Billy’s gaze swept the packed room, his jaw set and eyes sharp, practically daring trouble to show itself. This was no place for Max-he knew it and she damn well should have, too. If she’d managed to get herself in over her head, Billy was ready to tear through anyone in his way, rules be damned. He’d drag her out of here himself if he had to, and anyone stupid enough to interfere would regret it.
Frustration burned in his chest as he prowled the edges of the chaos, every muscle tense. Max wasn’t anywhere. Typical. She always picked the worst times to vanish-always had to do things her way, even now.
He clenched his fists, pulse pounding…if he had to, he’d rip the stereo wires out, kill the music, and kick everyone out just to find her. No way was he letting her pull this kind of stunt-not on his watch. Max might be as stubborn as hell, but so was he.
But then a sudden commotion snagged his attention. A surge of shouting and crashing from the other side of the living room.
A ring of onlookers shouted over the pounding music. Billy forced his way through, none of these drunk idiots would stand in his way until he caught sight of a tangle of red hair in the center of the chaos. Max. Of course.
Max was on top of a girl, fists flying, teeth bared, and not a single person seemed interested in stopping her. She fought like a hurricane-furious, relentless, refusing to be overpowered.
Reminded him of someone.
Billy didn’t hesitate. He dove straight into the mess, dragging Max off the other girl with a force only a brother could muster. She wriggled and thrashed, but he locked his arms around her, not letting go.
“Enough, Max!” he shouted, voice thundering in her ear. He peeked at her pale face, seeing her nose was bloody. A stiff knock to the nose, he guessed. “You made your point. Let’s go.” They both stared down at the sobbing girl on the ground, blood dripping from her face. Billy’s eyes flashed with irritation. But he didn’t wait for her to argue; he was already steering her away.
“Get off me! I’m not going anywhere with you!” Max spat, kicking and clawing, fighting for every inch of her freedom.
Billy gritted his teeth, never loosening his grip. “Keep it up, shitbird, and you really will be on your own.” He bulldozed through the crowd, hauling her outside, determined to get her out no matter what.
“Screw you!” Max slurred, shoving at him, her eyes full of fire even as she staggered out of his hold. No matter how drunk or upset, she wouldn’t let anyone-especially him-call all the shots.
“Max! What the hell-” Tony’s voice cracked through the night as he ran outside, but he froze when he saw Billy, the tension snapping between them. "Whoa, you're Billy Hargrove! Billy fucking Hargrove is at my party?!" He exclaimed enthusiastically.
Billy glared, voice dripping with disdain. “So, this is your idea of a party?” But Tony was too wasted to care, smirking and tossing an arm around Max like she was a prize to be won.
“Hell yeah, and I got this one with me all night,” Tony boasted. He pulled Max closer, but she jerked her arm free, eyes blazing. “Get off, asshole.” she snapped. Billy stepped in, his posture rigid, ready to settle this the hard way.
“You’ve got five seconds to let go of my sister, or I will pound you to the fucking ground” Billy warned, voice cold as ice. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”
The threat landed. Tony’s drunken confidence vanished, and he backed away, hands up. Billy’s lips curled in a satisfied smirk-sometimes fear worked better than fists.
“Hey, man, I’m not looking for trouble,” Tony mumbled, eyes darting between the two siblings.
Billy nodded and pursed his lips, barely containing his own irritation. “Good choice. Max, let’s move.” He grabbed her arm, gently this time, and pulled her along. Max yanked her arm away.
The fight wasn’t over between them, not by a long shot, but for now, Billy wasn’t letting her out of his sight and Max wasn’t about to let him win this battle without a fight.
“No! I don’t want to go. I just want to stay-” Max’s words splintered, unfinished, frustration and exhaustion muddying her voice as the alcohol steadily chipped away at her resolve. She wrenched her arm from Billy’s grasp and sank into the wet, dewy grass, her hair falling over her face like a curtain. Billy could still see the quaking of her shoulders…no matter how much she tried to hide, her sobs were unmistakable.
A familiar ache settled in Billy’s chest. For all their constant bickering and his tough exterior, seeing Max collapse like this triggered something deep in him. Whatever happened tonight must’ve been awful-he’d never seen her unravel like this, not even during their worst fights. Beneath his gruff attitude was genuine concern, even if he rarely showed it outright.
He crouched nearby, keeping a careful distance that balanced his protective instinct with Max’s need for space. His voice dropped, losing its usual sharpness. “Hey.” The word sounded awkward, almost forced, but sincere in its intent.
Max turned away, refusing to meet his eyes. “I don’t want to talk to you.” For a moment, she seemed so much younger, her defenses stripped away. Billy didn’t push; he knew better than anyone how stubborn she could be, and how much it mirrored his own brand of stubbornness.
He softened, even if only a bit. “Look at me.” There was no command this time, just a quiet plea.
She stayed hidden, stubbornly silent. Billy hesitated, then reached out carefully-not the fast, rough movements most expected from him, but slow and deliberate. He gently lifted her chin, patience in his touch.
Her eyes were red, and not just from the alcohol. Billy took in the sight, the pain written clearly across her face. And it wasn’t because of her bloody nose.
“Oh,” he murmured, softer than he meant. “Red…” The old nickname slipped out, and for a split second, their history flickered between them-bitter, sweet, always complicated.
That nickname, a relic from better days, echoed. They’d never been the kind of siblings who traded gentle support, but sometimes their odd, rough love broke through in unexpected moments.
And something in her cracked. The wall she kept up, especially with Billy, crumbled just enough for him to see the pain underneath.
“It’s different this time,” she whispered, fragile with honesty.
Billy’s expression changed-not confusion or annoyance, but something closer to understanding. He’d heard her stories, knew about her breakups with Sinclair, her drama. He didn’t need details; her pain was enough. Whatever their past, tonight he was the brother who listened.
“Yeah?” he said, letting her steer the conversation.
She nodded, tears streaming now. “He meant it.” The words hung between them, heavy with loss.
Billy exhaled, glancing at Steve who got out of the car- silent backup-then refocused on Max. For once, his impatience was nowhere in sight.
“Okay,” he said. “Okay. We’ll deal with that later.” The promise was vague, but real.
Max let out a shaky laugh, halfway between relief and disbelief. “That’s your advice?”
He smirked, something familiar in it. “No. My advice is you’re freezing, you feel like shit, and you made a dumb decision tonight and I suggest we get the fuck out of here before it gets worse.” He didn’t sugarcoat, never did. But sometimes that blunt honesty was exactly what she needed. “Who knew you’d be an even worse drunk than me…”
“Thanks,” she replied, sarcasm laced in the word, but for once, she didn’t sound angry. “I learned it from you.” She didn’t mean it in a hostile way and Billy thankfully didn’t take it that way. But the subtle ache in his chest only grew more. He should’ve been a better example for her. All those years he missed being a total fuck up to her.
At least now, he could find a way to make up for it.
“Well, I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere, Red. Promise.” The statement held more weight than he let on, their odd connection surfacing in the midst of chaos.
Max wouldn’t say so, at least not tonight, but she was relieved he’d come for her.
She looked at him finally, eyes searching for something familiar. For once, she found it.
“You’re not mad?” she asked, tentative.
Billy shrugged, half teasing. “I mean, I reserve the right to be annoyed later.” It was a joke, but also a warning. “Especially if you throw up in my car. So, if I need me to stick my greasy fingers down your throat and get it all out now, you better let me know in advance, shit bird.”
A reluctant smile crept across Max’s lips, the first sign she’d let herself soften. Their connection showed up in small ways; neither would ever admit how much it meant.
“There it is,” Billy said with a faint grin. “Thought I lost that.”
Steve approached, slower, hands in his pockets. “Hey. You okay?” He nodded towards her obvious bloody nose. She took a sloppy arm and wiped it clean.
Max squinted at him, suspicion lingering. “Why are you here?”
“Backup,” Steve replied lightly. “Also, your brother drives like a maniac when he’s worried.” The comment drew a groan from Billy-defensive, but not angry.
“I do not-”
“You do,” Steve cut in.
Max let out a weak laugh, the tension easing just a little.
Billy rolled his eyes, but there was no real heat behind it.
“C’mon,” he said, standing and offering his hand-awkward, but genuine. “Let’s get you home.”
Max hesitated, uncertainty flickering. “I can’t go home. Not like this. Mom will kill me.” He scoffed. Course Susan would find some way of blaming this on him. He didn’t feel like hearing that shit again. Not when he escaped it after finally moving out.
“Then you can stay with me. You and Jane.” Max hesitated again at first. But she took his hand, holding steadily. Neither would leave the other behind.
They both stood now. Facing each other with a few words lingering. Waiting to be said.
“Thanks…” She mumbled softly, her eyes glancing up at him.
He didn’t make a big deal out of it. Didn’t tease her. Just nodded once. A ghost of a smile on his lips.
The drive back to Billy’s place was quiet. Max and Jane had claimed the entire back seat, instantly passing out, heads smooshed together like two sleepy puppies after a tornado of a night.
Steve stared out the window, remaining silent during the drive.
Billy kept his eyes on the road, but not before glancing in the rearview every once in a while.
Steve’s silence clearly had a time limit, because suddenly a thought crept up in his mind: “They’re staying the night at the apartment?” he whispered, like he was asking for some nuclear launch codes.
Billy sighed, lowering the window and lighting a cigarette with the exhaustion of a man who’d seen too much. “Mhmmm…” He answered, cool and collected, blowing smoke directly out the window.
“How do we-how are we going to explain-you know?” Steve gestured at himself with all the subtlety of a mime having a breakdown.
Billy didn’t even blink. “What, two guys can’t be roommates now?” He snickered, flicking the butt out the window.
Steve huffed. “There’s only one bedroom. In case you forgot?”
Billy shrugged, lips twitching. “Just climb back in through the window, you used to love doing that shit in our last place.”
Steve groaned. “We’re on the third floor this time, man! You climb through the window!”
Billy, stopped at a red light, turned with a look that said, “Try me,” daring Steve to escalate.
Steve pouted, crossing his arms with all the dignity of a wet kitten. “I can... I can figure it out.” He stuttered, shaking a bit of unruly locks from his forehead.
“Yeah. You do that, Harrington.” Billy let a smirk settle in, clearly savoring the win.
A beat of silence passed before Max and Jane, apparently still awake, chimed in from the back.
“We know you’re sleeping together,” Jane mumbled into Max’s hair, her voice thick with sleep but her wit perfectly sharp.
Max didn’t even open her eyes. “Yeah, you two make it so obvious. It’s disgusting.” She grimaced.
Billy and Steve stiffened, the cigarette dangling so precariously from Billy’s lips, it was practically a fire hazard.
