Pictures, baby
For @harringrovemicroficandart's March prompt, "Childhood" (813 words)
(Also on AO3)
~~~
It was Joyce’s idea.
Everyone had been invited to a barbeque at the Byers’ house in two weeks’ time for a night of good food, even better company, and fun. The idea was that everyone attending would bring a picture of themselves when they were a baby, and then then they’d make a game out of trying to guess who was who.
So, Steve was currently in the couch, going through a childhood’s worth of photo albums to find the right one.
“What are you doing?”
He could feel Billy’s breath on his ear as he peered over his shoulder.
Turning so Billy could get a better view, Steve held up the album he was leafing through. “Trying to find a good baby photo.”
Billy huffed out a laugh and pointed at a picture of Steve, aged 6 months, naked and lying on his front on a sheepskin. “You were a fat baby.”
“All babies are fat.” He turned and looked pointedly at Billy’s profile. “Which reminds me, I need one of you, too.”
“One what?”
“A baby photo.”
Billy straightened up, so Steve had to turn around in the couch to be able to see him.
“Why?” There was a wrinkle between his eyes.
“It’s for the barbeque at the Byers’,” Steve said, smiling. “Everyone is to a picture of themselves from when they were a kid, and then we guess who’s who. It’s a game.”
“Sounds lame.”
Steve’s smile turned mischievous. “You’re just saying that because you don’t want anyone to know you were a fat baby, too.”
Billy frowned. “No thanks. I’m not into nerdy games.”
“Come on,” Steve said, cajoling, and reached out a hand. “It'll be fun. We’re all doing it.”
But Billy yanked his hand out of reach and took a step back. “I’m not.”
Steve sighed. Billy had come a long way since the events of last summer, but he was still Billy. Personally, Steve thought that joining in on a few games couldn’t hurt. It’d earn him some brownie points with the Party, that’s for sure.
So, “Please?” he said, batting his eyelashes. “For me?”
But instead of being charmed, Billy’s face closed down. He turned on his heel and walked out without another word. Steve heard the front door open and close before he even got out of the couch.
~
Things didn’t improve over the next few days. Steve tried to breach the topic a couple of times, but Billy shut him down every time. At one point Steve tried to apologize – even though he wasn’t sure what he’d done wrong, exactly – but Billy just shook his head and walked off. Again.
It was kind of bewildering, really.
A couple of days later, Steve was sitting in his car outside the Arcade, contemplating just skipping out on the barbecue entirely, when the passenger door opened and Billy got in. Without so much as a hello, he threw a piece of paper into Steve’s lap.
Surprised at being approached first for the first time in a week, Steve picked up the paper.
“It’s a picture,” Billy mumbled, staring out through the windshield. “For your little game.”
And sure enough, it was a picture of Billy. Only, Steve recognized it immediately, because it was Billy’s portrait from the school yearbook – obviously cut out from the yearbook itself.
It was probably supposed to be some kind of peace offering, but as such it kind of sucked. Because, “It’s supposed to be a baby picture?” Steve pointed out.
Billy drew his shoulders up and bit his lip. He was still staring straight ahead as he spoke. “I don’t have any baby pictures.”
… oh.
While Steve was struggling to come up with something to say, Billy swallowed and continued, “I don’t know if there ever were. Maybe my mom took them with her when she left. Maybe Neil threw them out. Or maybe there never were any in the first place. I don’t know.” A one-shouldered shrug, too stiff to look casual. “Maybe they just didn’t want any pictures of me.” He cleared his throat, and Steve ached for him, suddenly. “I mean, I can’t blame them. After all, who would?”
Before Steve could speak, Billy nodded to the picture in Steve’s hands.
“Anyway, that’s the earliest photo I’ve got of me. Take it or leave it.”
The words were barely out before Steve turned and threw his arms around him, picture dropped and forgotten. He could feel Billy tense in his arms, but held on tight, wishing that he could squeeze the childhood trauma right out of him if he just held on long enough.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured in Billy’s ear, not really sure what he was sorry for but being sorry nonetheless. Billy said nothing, but hugged back eventually.
~
That weekend, Steve drove up to Indianapolis and bought himself a camera, and several rolls of film.
