art for PERFECT BLEND
written by @suotar / @camaro-and-smokes
read the amazing fic here!
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Summary:Billy Hargrove and Max Mayfield are proud owners of Tether Café located in West Village, New York.
One day Steve Harrington, an indie rockstar shot into fame by one song he wrote three years ago, stumbles into the café in a desperate search for inspiration. Billy isn’t buying any of Harrington’s signature rockstar moves and puts him in his place, brushing off the guy’s good looks and even the fact that he is capable of making him speechless—which is unheard of.
Soon he realizes that Harrington is annoyingly stubborn and determined to break Billy's resistance and change his mind about never ever dating rockstars again.
Written for @billybigbang 2025 by Suotar/Camaro-and-smokes. Art & the banner by the talented @camaro-hargrove 💜 Go and give love to the gorgeous art for Chapter 1 and Chapter 3!!!
Chapter 8/8: One more shot
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Two weeks later, Billy was still hearing people in the café quietly asking each other at least once a day: “Is that him? The guy from that song?”
The song was gone now, mostly scrubbed from the internet. It could still be heard from time to time, less than before, though.
Thank the fucking God.
Billy slouched on his couch, the whatever was on the TV shining a flickering light into the otherwise dark apartment.
A sudden knock on the front door made him jolt from his thoughts. He blinked and grimaced. “Already sold my soul to Satan,” he yelled, not bothering to get up.
“Then some gluttony won’t make any difference,” Eddie called from the other side of the door.
Billy groaned and lingered for a bit before getting up.
Eddie grinned when Billy opened the door. “Care package for the brokenhearted,” he announced, brandishing a small cardboard holder of beer and a bag of takeout. “Sorry I couldn’t stop by earlier. Been stuck in the studio with Harringt—uh, just stuck at work.”
Billy hesitated, his hand on the doorknob. He was pretty comfortable in his solitude—then he heard the laugh track of the show going off behind him. He stepped back and let Eddie in.
After kicking off his boots, Eddie looked around the apartment, clearly judging its current state based on the way his lips pursed.
Billy hadn’t bothered to clean in a week, hadn’t bothered to do anything really, so the table in front of his couch was full of takeout menus and trash.
But Eddie said nothing, just made himself comfortable on the couch and pulled out a bottle of some ridiculously expensive craft beer from the cardboard crate. The cork came off with a snik and he held it out for Billy. “Thought you could use this.”
“Thanks,” Billy muttered, still standing and eyeing Eddie, who swiftly moved the trash aside from the table and then emptied the contents of the bag on it.
Eddie opened his beer and grabbed his burger, not making any effort in urging Billy to eat or even sit down, as if there was no specific reason he was there. “Those things happen, y’know.”
Billy plopped down on the couch and stared at the bottle in his hand. “Don’t know what you mean.”
Eddie smirked, popping a fry into his mouth. “Yeah, and pigs fly with red capes on. Heard you guys have been busy lately at Tether.”
Billy nodded and took a sip of his beer.
Yeah, Tether was famous now. New regulars kept pouring in, probably more because it used to be Harrington’s go-to place than the coffee. Billy still periodically had to duck behind the pastry case or go to the back room just to hide from the cameras.
But the register was full, and Max had flashed the thought of getting a part-time help, which had started to feel like a viable option.
Harrington himself, instead, had stayed away.
Eddie glanced at Billy. “Wouldn’t have thought it caused all that stir.”
Billy shifted and looked away, picking at the label of his beer. “He should’ve given me a heads-up,” he muttered, jaw tight.
“Uh huh.” Eddie nodded and was quiet for a while, munching his burger. “Heard from Max you maybe had something to do with that not happening?”
Billy grimaced and shook his head. “Not you too.”
“Hey, man, ‘m not saying it’s your fault. The song had already leaked, just meant the aftermath.”
Billy remained silent, just took a sip of his beer.
All the hurt was right under the surface—an infected, swollen abscess, puss ready to spill out in volumes the moment Eddie would poke the right spot. Billy wouldn’t help him do that.
Eddie leaned back, crossing his feet on the table. “He’s drowning himself at work, making new songs.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin and took a sip of his beer, glancing at Billy. “Says he wants to make it right. Unlike Gary. Or Mark.”
Billy drank from the bottle, grimacing. After a while, he spoke. “He can’t even come up with good excuses, huh?” He aimed for sarcasm, but it landed sideways when Eddie’s face remained serious.
“No. Not that kinda guy, this one. Straightforward and honest. Maybe a bit dumb and hopeless when it comes to you, though.”
Billy recognized the humor, and maybe it was a compliment, too, for him to have that effect on someone like Harrington. He mulled it over, fingers tapping on the bottle.
“The question is,” Eddie continued, “what about you?”
Billy hesitated. He’d been thinking that a lot ever since. The conclusion was always the same. “Thought it was real,” he finally admitted reluctantly.
Eddie returned to his food. “’kay, maybe it was that from the start then,” he mumbled from around the burger.
The chatter from the TV and Eddie’s munching filled the silence for a long while.
Billy poked at his fries, ate one, then pushed the box away. He stared at the label on the bottle. “Don’t know if I can do it,” he muttered, almost just to himself.
Eddie pushed the last piece of the burger into his mouth. “You’ll never know.” He shrugged, taking a swig of his beer. “Could be worth it.”
Billy glared at him, trying pretend he hadn’t thought about it—and that it wasn’t eating him.
Eddie, as usual, saw straight through him. “Think about it ’s all I’m saying.” He glanced at Billy’s food that was still on the table, untouched. “’m gonna hit the road.” Pointing at the food, he continued, “Eat. You look like you haven’t done that in a while.”
That put a faint smile on Billy’s lips. “Yes, Dad.”
Eddie punched him on the shoulder and grinned before they stood up.
Billy walked Eddie to the door.
When he stepped into the hallway, he reached out and grabbed Billy’s shoulder. “You do what feels right.” He started towards the staircase. “Just…listen to your heart,” he sang the lyrics from the Roxette song as he sauntered down the steps. “Before you…tell him goodbye…”
“Fuck you, Munson,” Billy scoffed after him, but couldn’t fight the wider smile that now spread across his face.
Eddie’s cackle echoed in the staircase. “Just do it!” he shouted from the lower floor.
Billy closed the door, back in his solitude, now tinged with the smell of fries and onions. Things didn’t seem so bleak anymore. Even his stomach growled, it hadn’t done that in days.
He hated Eddie having this effect on him, always bringing him back from whatever self-pity party he’d created for himself.
its insane to me that nightcore is looked at as weird to a lot of black ppl in jersey bc jersey club is literally just nightcore with trap beats over it that’s it
