Here's one for @hawkinsmafia whose request was "Hey Billy, can you grab a pic of Steve’s morning wood for us?"
::::::::::
The request was supposed to be an easy one to fill. Just take a pic of Steve’s morning wood. It was among the easier ones on the list.
“How am I supposed to do that?” Billy asked.
“What if I take it myself and we just say it was taken by you?” Steve suggested.
“They would know. Just think about it. There’s no way you can take a pic from an angle like that of yourself. The moment you wake up enough it starts to...you know. You know that. It would require preparing the night before, setting up a camera and planning angles and all that. And we don’t have a camera, so you’d have to use your phone.”
Steve cocked an eyebrow, amused. “You sound pretty eager to sacrifice yourself for it. To come into my room in the morning, first thing, and take a dick pic?”
Billy grimaced and felt his cheeks warming up. “I’m not particularly happy about it, but how else would I do it? I’m open to suggestions.”
The truth was that Billy had been itching to see Steve’s dick in full mast for quite a while. He’d seen a hint of its size one morning when he’d been already up and Steve had come to the kitchen wearing nothing but his boxer briefs. They’d been out the whole previous night and Billy was probably just as hungover as Steve, but Steve always slept long on his free days. Anyway, it had caught Billy’s eye, even though he of course looked away as soon as he realized what he’d been looking at. It hadn’t been stiff anymore but the chubbiness in Steve’s briefs left little to imagination; he was packing.
This realization definitely hadn’t helped with his crush at Steve. In fact, it had made it deepen and also added the new layer of having sexual thoughts about him to it. To the point that the embarrassing wet dreams had returned.
The worst was that as far as he knew Steve was very much straight. He hadn’t seen Steve with any girls, or at least he hadn’t brought any with him home. But he was fairly certain Steve leaned only that one way. Billy had been happy to remain only as friends with him, though. If that was all he’d ever get, then at least he had that. But now it was all different.
He’d been thinking of finding ways to learn if he ever had a chance in hell with Steve. He’d found this one camboy on Onlyfans who, yes, had dark brown hair, brown eyes and a lean built—he could admit he had a type—he’d been now following for a month or so after his revelation with somewhat satisfactory results. It was never the real deal of course, but it was close enough. Anyway, when the camboy had declared on his social media that he was quitting his day job and doing Onlyfans for living, Billy had realized that they could try that too. Solid income from just doing a short video or snapping a photo. And they wouldn’t have to do anything but solo stuff. But even still, it would maybe bring them closer together and maybe even…well, maybe he’d eventually find out what he wanted.
So it wasn’t that Billy wasn’t more than willing to do the request. Knowing that Steve knew the pic was being taken was what made it difficult.
Steve scratched his chin. “I guess there’s really no other option. Just come into my room in the morning and...”
“Uh, yeah. Wanna let me know when you...you know, have one? I mean, I’m up probably anyway before you, so...”
“Eh, sure. Sure. I’ll do that.”
It was a few days later when it happened. Billy was having his morning coffee and on his phone, scrolling through the comments on their OF account, when Steve cleared his throat in the doorway.
Steve was blushing and he rubbed his neck with his hand. “Uh...um...You wanna, eh...take the pic?”
Billy lowered his gaze to look and... The way Steve shuffled his feet told Billy he knew he was looking. And that his eyes were probably wide and that he was blushing, too.
The tenting in Steve’s briefs was big. Definitely bigger than what Billy had, no doubt about it.
He felt his mouth go dry, and he spurred into action. “Uh, yeah, sure.” He grabbed his phone and followed Steve to his room.
Steve’s room was facing east and it had a nice view to the park, so the morning sun was shining through the window and straight onto Steve’s bed.
“Where do you want me?” Steve asked.
Billy was certain Steve hadn’t thought about his choice of words too much, but he still couldn’t keep entirely straight face. “Maybe on the bed? In the sun.” He opened the camera app of his phone and was determined to not look until Steve was ready. It was then when he realized that he was about to take a photo of Steve’s dick with his own phone. “Eh, want me to take this with your phone?”
“Oh, right. Yeah,” Steve said, taking his phone from the nightstand. After unlocking it he gave it to Billy.
Billy fumbled with it, almost dropping it when Steve took his briefs off and sat on the bed.
His dick had both the length and the girth. It had to be at least eight inches long, and Billy wasn’t sure if his fingers would’ve reached around it. The shaft had thick veins running on the front and on its sides, and the head was a bit pointy, not too much though, and it was deliciously swollen.
God, it was so, so pretty.
Billy imagined how silky and heavy it would feel on his tongue and felt himself grow hard. “Wow,” he heard himself say. “Uh, I mean,” he rushed to add,” that’s impressive.”
Steve blushed even more. “Thanks.” He shifted in his seat and leaned on the headboard, spreading his legs a little so that his dick was leaning against his left thigh, and his sack resting nicely between his legs. “Uh, is this position okay?”
Billy felt ridiculous amount of arousal from the simple change of position. “Yeah, that’s fine,” he squeaked, aiming at Steve’s groin and centering it in the camera’s finder. The shutter sound confirmed the splendor being immortalized not only to Steve’s camera roll but also to Billy’s personal spank bank. He showed the pic to Steve. “What do you think?”
“It’s my dick...What do you think?”
Billy blinked idly for a moment. He knew the question was a simple one and not what his mind immediately went to, and he had to put in a real effort not just to blurt out what he was really thinking, to choose his words carefully. Which was hard, considering that let me suck it and let me sit on it were first in line to roll out.
He thought of the delicious way it would split him open, enter him achingly slow. It would stretch him deliciously and make him moan and let out incoherent words until it was in to the hilt. With every thrust he’d probably feel it all the way up in his throat.
Or if he’d suck it, it would force his mouth wide open to accommodate it. Filling it to the brim, making him unable to think about anything else. Pushing to the back of his mouth, making him gag and choke. Spit to spurt out from the sides of his mouth and his nose, tears pushing through from the corners of his eyes. Making him a beautiful mess.
And still he’d try to take more of it, all of it. He’d want to have his nose pressed against the dark bush of hair in the root of it. Have his hair tugged and his head kept in place while he was mouth-fucked with that monster. Perversely used, perfectly and blissfully out of control.
He’d listen to the moans and gasps, breathless words praising him taking it so well, and he’d do exactly that, take all of it. Get hard from those words alone, leaking to his own briefs. He’d have to grab his dick while tears and drool and precum would mix all over his cheeks and jaw, dripping on his neck and chest. He’d jerk himself in the same pace with the face-fucking and when the warm, salty load would hit his throat, he’d finish himself off with pathetic moans formed around the still pulsing cock in his mouth…
He snapped out of his reverie, feeling hot all over. Steve was looking at him with a shy smile. “It’s, uh...i–it’s great,” he stammered awkwardly, put Steve’s phone on his desk and left the room, beelining to his own room.
He sat on his bed and pulled his now aching dick from his briefs, not having to jerk it for long before he came. He fell on his back on the bed and grimaced, closing his eyes. “Oh god,” he thought, “this is so bad.”
Later they were in the living room, Billy sitting on the floor and playing on his PS4 and Steve doing something on his laptop on the couch.
“I’m going to upload the pic now,” Steve said. “Wanna see?”
Billy paused the game and sat next to Steve. Maybe a bit too close, he wasn’t sure, because their thighs brushed against each other. But Steve didn’t flinch, so it had to be okay.
It was ridiculous how many things Billy nowadays thought way too much just because he had a crush on Steve. If it was okay to sit like this, the same way they’d sit on this very same couch as long as he could remember whenever he looked at something Steve was working on on his laptop. Or if it was okay to sit in the breakfast table together and not say a word or if he talked too much. If it was okay to do anything that used to be so easy to do when he’d been content on being just friends with Steve.
Or if Steve felt the same way.
Billy frowned. The photo looked a bit different to what he remembered—and he thought he remembered it well. “Did you edit it?” he asked.
“No…” Steve drawled. “Well, just adjusted the light a little. Is it ok?”
“Yeah. No, yeah, it’s okay,” Billy rushed to answer. He scolded himself because he knew he’d already said too much with the question alone.
Steve smiled and chuckled. “Alright.”
Billy watched as Steve uploaded the photo, wrote a caption to it with the request and posted it.
Steve glanced at him. “You know, it’s okay. I mean in the morning, when you took the photo.”
Billy felt his cheeks heating. His first thought was that Steve knew. That Steve had looked and seen his arousal. Billy looked at Steve who was staring at the keyboard. “What is?” he asked cautiously.
Steve didn’t say anything for a good while, but his cheeks turned rosy pink. “It was kinda fun. You know, having my pic taken like that. I’ve ever only taken a…” he paused and chuckled nervously, “I’ve only taken a dick pic myself.”
Billy laughed, relieved. “Well, yeah. It’s not something you’d probably do unless… you know.”
“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “Maybe…next time it’ll be easier.”
Billy smirked. “Maybe you can take my pic next time.”
_ _ _
This is Billy's and Steve's Onlyfans RP account. Billy and Steve are "running" the account, the team behind it is Aggressiveviking & Suometar. Feel free to play into or out of the rp in any way you like, all interactions are welcome 💕💕💕
✨ This is my contribution to the Harringrove Relay Race! ✨ @harringrove-relay-race
Screwdriver
S: I'm not looking to fuck right now, but my bathroom sink is currently flooding the bathroom
S: I know it's kind of random, but can I borrow a flathead screwdriver by any chance?
S: I don't really know my neighbours and you're the closest person to me on Grindr
S: 😅
Billy stared at the four messages he'd received, not quite knowing what to think about them. They were from Steve, the guy he'd been messaging on Grindr for a while here and there.
It had been a kind of a mistake for Billy to even see Steve's profile. Steve had said he had been meaning to delete the whole profile since all he'd gotten through it was heartache and pain, but then had decided against it. Billy had the same kind of experience, so he'd suggested that they could just talk. And Steve had agreed.
They really didn’t know that much about each other, they talked about just casual stuff; work, TV shows and such. But Billy didn’t have anything special to do that evening, so why not. Steve seemed like a decent guy and Billy had an extensive selection of tools at home because of the Camaro he’d kept as a second car since it always needed something to be fixed.
B: Yeah why not.
B: Send me your address and I’ll bring it. BTW you should turn off the main water in case you haven’t yet.
Billy put his phone into his back pocket and went to the garage to rummage through his tools. Soon the phone blipped with a message.
S: Thanks, the water’s turned off. I’m panicking, didn’t even think of that. The address is 357 Oak Street, 3rd floor.
Billy snorted.
B: No problem. I'll be there in fifteen.
Steve didn’t actually live that far from Billy, which was surprising. Billy was sure he had never seen Steve around. Brown-haired, doe-eyed and tall men were his kryptonite. He was pretty sure he’d remember a guy looking like Steve.
He parked his truck and Steve buzzed him in.
Billy stepped out of the elevator in Steve’s floor. It wasn’t hard to know which one was Steve’s door: it was the one ajar through which he heard cursing. He walked to the door and knocked on it before opening the door wider.
“Hey, it’s Billy,” he said after he opened the door and couldn't see anyone in the corridor.
“Yeah, come in, I’m a bit busy right now,” came from somewhere behind the open door. “Shut the door.”
Billy closed the door and turned to look at the corridor opening behind the door – and almost inhaled the gum he’d been chewing, followed by a coughing fit.
Steve was on his knees on the bathroom floor, leaning under the sink into the sink cabinet – his ass high up in the air, clad in nothing but wet, green basketball shorts that were glued to his ass and his hairy legs – jesus christ how can someone be that hairy – and not leaving any other assets to imagination either.
He backed out from the cabinet, turned around and sat on the floor. “Oh good, thank fucking lord,” he let out, looking tired but clearly relieved. When he saw Billy all red from coughing, his expression turned worried. “You okay?”
Billy nodded, still trying to catch his breath, and lifted the toolbox in his hand.
Steve got up and walked to the bathroom door, looking flustered and rubbing his hands to his thighs.
For fuck's sake would you stop doing that Harrington.
Billy was half hard already from seeing that wet ass, no further sights needed.
“I wish we could’ve met under other circumstances,” Steve said, smiling awkwardly, not knowing where to place his hands, on his hips, his arms crossed, again finding their place on his hips. He pointed at the toolbox. “Uh… I needed only one...”
Think about the tools. THE TOOLS.
“There are more than one size,” Billy croaked before coughing a few last times to his sleeve. “You didn’t tell me which, so I brought all I have.”
“Oh.”
“Oh?” Billy asked, his brows raising.
This is turning into a porn film cliché.
Steve turned red and grimaced, trying to turn it into an awkward smile. “Like I said in the message, I panicked.”
If he curls his hair around his finger and bats his eyelashes a few times I swer I won't be able to hold it.
Billy looked Steve in the eyes for a moment, trying to concentrate to all possible horrors of mismanaging a burst water pipe or a broken tap could cause. Then his eyes fell to Steve’s chest and the dark hair, a lot of it, that was clearly visible under the wet white t-shirt and he felt himself blushing.
Act normal, act normal, act normal....
To keep his thoughts on the task, Billy set the toolbox on the floor and took off his jacket and set it on the chair that was in the corridor. “Okay, let me take a look. Is the floor wet?”
Steve shook his head as he stepped aside to let Billy into the bathroom. “Not anymore. I mopped the floor, but I just didn’t see a point in changing clothes. Didn’t want to get the rest of my wardrobe wet.”
The bathroom was small, so they brushed against each other just a little as they passed, enough for Billy to get a whif of Steve's scent. He smelt of cedar wood, hairspray and a little sweat – a winning combo, apparently, since Billy's had to hold back a whimper and lock his eyes to the sink cabinet. “You didn’t think to call a plumber?” he asked, trying to keep his voice even, as he squatted in front of the sink and looked into the cabinet to check what kind of screws he had to open.
“I did. The one I reached said that if the drain isn’t clogged and the tap isn't leaking there’s no point in me paying for the nighttime extra and that he comes to fix it first thing in the morning. But he said that I should get rid of anything that’s under the sink so that he can get to work when he arrives. So I was doing that when I realized that I didn’t even have a coin I could try to pry open the screws.”
Billy took a deep breath. “Okay, well, that’s good. Based on your messages I was afraid that you were trying to fix the pipes with the screwdriver.”
Steve snorted, amused. “Well, I might not be a handyman but even I’m not that dumb.”
Billy looked up at Steve with a smirk. “You need to take this cabinet out for the plumber?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, it’s good then that I brought my whole toolbox then because not all of these won’t open with a flathead, they need a Phillips.”
“They need a what now?” Steve asked, raising his eyebrows.
Clueless pretty thing, definitely checks the box.
Billy got up and chuckled. “I’ll take the cabinet apart for you, now that I’m here. But could I get a glass of water first? The coughing…”
“Oh, yeah, sure,” Steve said and left the bathroom to fetch it.
Billy was setting up the electric screwdriver when Steve returned with the glass.
Steve was still wearing the same wet clothes, because of course he was.
I want to claw those off and bury my face into that chest hair.
Steve looking down at himself all of a sudden made Billy realize that he had probably stared a bit too intensively and blushing. He downed his water quickly before handing the empty glass back to Steve.
“Uh… I’ll leave you to it,” Steve said, smirking. “I'll go change.”
Yeah, you had to point that out. What, you want me to follow instead of taking this shit apart and fuck your brains off?
Well, okay, maybe Billy wanted to do that, but that was not what they'd agreed upon. Better if he stayed on his lane, for now.
This isn't a porn film, not a porn film...
“Yeah, this shouldn’t take long,” Billy replied, not daring to look back at Steve again, and got to work.
Once he had taken the cabinet apart he put away his tools and looked into the living room where the bathroom opened to. Steve was sitting on the couch, staring intently at his laptop and tapping away. He was wearing eyeglasses, something Billy hadn’t seen in any of the photos Steve had shared online. They fit him, framing his face nicely. Billy's eyes wandered lower and he realized that Steve was wearing only sweatpants, his glorious chest hair all on display. There was a lot of it indeed.
I want to press my nose into that, snuggle into it, run my fingers through it, tug it when I come. He cleared his throat. “Uh, I took the cabinet apart.”
Steve looked up, smiling and put the laptop away. “Hey, that’s awesome. Thanks, man! How can I repay you?” he asked as he walked to Billy.
Do not think about it, do not think about it, DO NOT…
“Uh...” Billy managed to get out, rubbing his neck with his hand. This wasn't a fucking porn film, he reminded himself, even if a handyman came to fix something at the house and oops, only the good looking little missus is at home, wearing skimpy clothes and instead of fixing anything they end up fucking against the kitchen counter like horny bunnies. Okaaayyy, well, Steve had been wearing wet skimpy clothes that left nothing to imagination and now he was wearing even less, he was maybe also a bit clueless and…
Billy tried to keep his head in check and glued his eyes on Steve's face. “Can I take you to dinner?”
Steve raised his eyebrow and measured Billy from head to toes with a lazy gaze.
Billy felt naked.
Steve smiled. “Uh… Should I be the one doing that, though?” He was quiet for a moment and smirked. “What if I'm all out of money and you have to get your pay, are there other ways I could do that?”
Billy swallowed and turned beet red. He let out a laugh and licked his lower lip.
Steve hooked his right thumb on the waistband of his sweats, pulling it down a bit and revealing the beginning of a very hairy happy trail.
The fucker.
Billy started to unbutton his shirt. “Well... Maybe we could come to a mutual agreement about that.”
=====
Please look forward to the lovely, wonderful and amazing work from the next contributor @hg-deranged-edition
Old Flame is really old draft I just recently remembered. Sometimes when you take a look at something you've drafted a long time ago you're like, is this my idea? I came up with this? Wow! This was one of those :D
But Steve really wasn't over Billy. He never was. When Eddie realised this he felt jealous and sad, but he loved Steve and wanted to just be a part of his life, so... “You know...I've always known that I love you more than you love me.”
“That's not true, Eddie.”
“No, it is, and you know it. And I'm happy despite that I get to share my life with you. I hope you love me at least on some level. But I know Billy is the love of your life. I know that now and it's fine.”
Steve looks at Eddie with tears in his eyes. “I never really got over him leaving,” he whispered.
Eddie smiled sadly. “I know.” He paused. “I think you should talk with him about it.”
“No. He's gotten over me.”
“Steve,” Eddie said, leaning to his elbow. “The way he looks at you...It's exactly the same way I look at you. He still has feelings for you.”
Summary: Steve pulled Billy against him, leaning in and brushing Billy’s ear with his lips.
The touch made Billy shiver, made him gasp—made him forget about everything except right now.
“I don't care if it's small, I like it,” Steve said, voice low. “It’s the home of my favorite person in the whole wide world.”
Read on AO3 >>
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The lights hit Billy’s face, hot and harsh, dissolving him into a faceless blur on the cream-colored backdrop. Catalog shoots were the worst. Especially when they weren’t just the ‘same foot on the same pedestal with yet another shoe’, but the kind where you had to be present because your face was in each shot.
It was the second day, late afternoon, and it all felt already like a loop of bad TV reruns. Change clothes. Stare blankly. Move an inch to the left. Forget yourself, just be a clothes rack.
The camera flashed relentlessly, the lens a hungry eye that consumed him without feeling. The stylist and makeup artist took turns hovering around him, clipping, pinning, fussing.
“Turn your chin slightly,” the photographer called. “Bring your left shoulder down.”
It was all distant, a low drone beneath the humming lights. Nothing new. Billy performed as expected, his body moving with a mechanical precision, each gesture timed and calculated.
But inside, he was miles away, in Steve’s arms. The thought of Steve made him smile involuntarily, and the photographer huffed at him.
Billy winced. “Sorry, sorry. Won’t happen again.”
“Let’s take five. And wipe that grin off your face for the last set, Hargrove,” the photographer said, amused. “It makes you look like you’re up to something and the client doesn’t want that.”
Billy chuckled as they stepped by the snack table and took a protein bar from it. “Yeah, I know, they don’t pay me for my smiles but my brooding.”
“Nah, the shots Harrington took of you were brilliant. I saw a few drafts.” The photographer took a bite of the apple he grabbed from the table. “It’s clear you two worked really well together. He’s in a league of his own, but the subject also has a play in it all and you nailed it.”
Billy couldn’t hold back a smile at the praise. “Yeah, it was something else to stand in front of his camera. Nothing I’ve experienced before.”
The photographer nodded. “And probably won’t for a while. There’s no one quite like him. Well, Hagan, sure, but he’s not…original. Not like Harrington.”
Billy ate the rest of his protein bar in thought before continuing. “I have a shoot with Hagan in Milan, just before fashion week. What’s he like?”
The photographer sighed and shook his head a little. “All I can say is just keep your cool. He’s an asshole. And that’s not a rumor. I’ve worked with him. Not a fun guy to be around. But he’s too talented to be ignored, so everyone just tolerates him. You should do that too. Don’t let him get under your skin.”
“Wow. I’ve heard the rumors, but didn’t know they were real. Not like the ones of Ste—Harrington,” Billy said, catching himself just in time.
The photographer looked at Billy for a moment, as if pondering something. “I’m not one for rumors myself, usually, but…” he started, leaning in. Then he frowned and shook his hand dismissively. “Ugh, never mind. Just forget it. I don’t want to spread those. It’s old news anyway, and I want to keep myself out of that shit show.”
Billy looked at him curiously, but decided not to prod further. All kinds of rumors were floating around and the guy was right. Whatever he’d heard, Billy was probably better off not knowing. He’d learned that with Steve and he wanted to hold on to that principle tighter now than he had before.
When the photographer vanished from his side, Billy walked to the wardrobe section of the studio where his own things were. He pulled out his phone from the pocket of his jacket and saw that it was full of messages from Steve.
Billy’s heart clenched and something fuzzy fluttered in his stomach as he opened the messaging app.
10:40 am “Smiling because I’m thinking of you.”
11:06 am “Stupidly smiling over here because of you.”
11:48 am “I know you’re working, but I’m grinning because I can’t stop thinking of you. Just so that you know.”
11:48 am “Didn’t mean the previous one to sound obsessive. Sorry.”
01:19 pm “You’re seriously making it impossible for me to work today because I can’t keep you out of my mind. In a non-obsessive way.”
01:20 pm “God, I’m so bad at this. I miss you. I hope I at least made you smile 😊 I made the arrangements for the weekend trip. It can ’t come soon enough.”
Billy couldn’t help but laugh because he felt the same way. And he missed Steve so much. Even though over the last two days they had messaged each other several times a day and even called to say good night.
He wanted to go to Steve’s and vanish back into that sweet bubble they had spent the weekend in. He knew he could do that and Steve would surely accept him with open arms, but also if he did it, he’d be late to everything, never able to let go of Steve on time—as was proved on Sunday.
And maybe it would also be a bit too forward. Too much, too soon. Because what he really wanted was to stick to Steve like a leech and just exist in his periphery, never leave his side, not even for work.
Yeah. He wanted to do all the things he’d messed up every relationship with before. Not allowing the other person time and space they needed to settle into a relationship.
God, did he want this relationship to last.
He typed a message to Steve.
02:39 pm “U made me laugh 😆❤️ I don ’t think you’re obsessive. Ok maybe just a lil’ 😉 It ’s ok I feel the same babe. Ttyl gotta go back to work. Can’t wait to see u.”
The stylist Mina, who had been working with him at the shoot in the Bahamas, was already waiting with the next garments for Billy to put away his phone. She nodded towards it with a teasing grin. “You got someone special there?”
Billy looked at her, blushing. Since they’d worked together before, the heat creeping up his neck didn’t feel as embarrassing as it would’ve if she were a stranger. “Why?” he asked with a shy smile.
She chuckled and smiled softly. “Hah, I knew it. You definitely have someone. That blush gave it away.”
Billy chortled. “Yeah. I have someone,” he admitted.
“Damn,” she said. “Would’ve hit on you if you weren’t taken. I hope she knows what a snack she’s got.”
Billy’s smile faltered a little, even though he still felt the blush on his cheeks. Her words reminded him of the facade he still needed to keep up. He couldn’t mention that the someone was a he . He couldn ’t afford it, not now. Even if that wouldn’t have mattered to the world or even Givenchy, it mattered to him. It meant too much .
And at that thought he reminded himself that he, in fact, couldn ’t tell the world, even by accident, who he was dating. Not now. Not for a very long time if he didn’t want to mess up not just the relationship but his and Steve’s work, too. Professional integrity, people’s perceptions…
He forced his smile to widen. “Yeah, she knows.”
+ + +
A few days later, Billy arrived home late with some greasy takeout, hoping Heather wouldn’t be there to give him the stink eye for him giving in to his urges. In his own defense, he felt miserable because he hadn’t been able to sleep last night and his appetite had been basically non-existent since leaving Steve’s on Sunday. So, he’d decided he needed the calories in any way possible.
To his surprise, he found Max in the hallway, sitting in the staircase with a Diet Coke next to her and scrolling through her phone.
“Hey loser,” she said without even glancing up from her screen. “Long day at work? Yeah, me too.”
Billy’s tired brain couldn’t come up with anything witty to say, or anything for that matter, so he just laughed as he opened the door to the apartment. “Yeah. Long.”
He closed the door after she’d squeezed herself past him into the cramped hallway. “Who let you into the building?”
“The granny who lives on the floor above. The one with the ugly pug,” she stated as he locked herself into the bathroom.
“Right. I need to tell her not to let suspicious looking women in. You might be a spy for all she knows,” Billy said through the door, grinning, and took his stuff to the kitchen and started to unload his bags.
Max joined him a while later. “God, if you hadn’t come home when you did, I would’ve had to go to her place to pee. Maybe I could’ve snooped around and stolen a few bones from her dog for you to go with that,” she said, circling her finger in the air in the general direction of the takeaway boxes on the table, “whatever that is.”
Billy opened one box and turned it around for her to see. “Steaks. It’s just steaks. You know, meat? Ever heard of it?”
She narrowed her eyes. “I spy with my little eye…Hey! They’re drenched in barbecue sauce!”
Billy looked at the food sheepishly. “Okay, well…But I need my proteins!”
She looked around the table and made an audible gasping sound, snatching a smaller box from the table.
Billy missed stopping her just by a moment. “Hey! Give it back!” he yelped.
She glared at him as she opened the box. “I knew it! Garlic wedges. Potatoes certainly weren’t meat or even protein the last time I checked,” she teased him.
“Give it to me,” Billy repeated, emphasizing each word, and snatched the box back. “I’m hungry, okay?”
“You’re never hungry enough to eat a day’s worth of calories in one sitting unless you’re miserable,” she stated and turned to take plates for them from the cupboard.
Billy took two water bottles from the fridge and set them on the table before sitting down. “I guess I am miserable,” he said with a small voice.
Max looked at him, concerned. “What’s going on? I thought you’d be on top of the world after last weekend.”
Billy speared one steak with his fork and put it on the plate, not knowing where to start. “Nothing.”
She followed his movements with her gaze and let him pile his plate with food, not rushing him. Knowing him .
He stared at his full plate, still not knowing what to say. Or where to even start.
She still said nothing, just waited for him to find the words.
“I only ate one fucking protein bar yesterday and the day before, ok? I haven’t slept properly since Sunday and I haven’t eaten anything today. Just couldn’t,” he finally blurted out.
Her expression softened, and a smile tugged the corner of her mouth. “Oh, wow.”
Billy watched her piling food on her own plate, knowing what she meant but not wanting to admit it. “What ‘oh wow’?”
“These…inabilities,” she started, licking the sauce from her finger that spilled on it when she put the meat box down, and arched her eyebrow. “They don’t happen to have anything to do with a certain photographer?”
Billy poked the potatoes on his plate, feeling the tips of his ears burning. “And what if I say yes?”
Max stabbed a wedge with her fork and pointed at him with it. “Then you,” she said and took a bite of the potato, “are in trouble.”
Billy shook his head, trying to keep the smile forming on his lips. “Shut up. It’s not like that.”
She hummed and ate the rest of her potato, amused, giving him a long look, just waiting for him to admit it.
Billy cut his steak and ate the piece before relenting. “Maybe a little.”
Her face broke into a knowing smile. “Yeah, you didn’t sound like it’s anything little when you bragged about four fucks over one night.” She pointed at him with her fork before he could interject. “And yes, I mean his cock, too.”
Billy threw a napkin at her. “Fuck you,” he said, but couldn’t hold back a laugh.
She grinned. “Yeah, I love you too, dipshit. So, why don’t you call him and ask him to come over?”
Billy was taken aback. “Weren’t you the one who told me to be careful with this thing?”
“I know. I’m as shocked about it as you are,” she shrugged, setting down her fork and taking a swig from her water. “But not eating or sleeping while working on the biggest campaign of your life so far isn’t good either.” She shook her head and a fond smile caressed her face. “If your sleep and appetite returns when you allow yourself to see him, then maybe you should try that. But only if you think you can keep your head cool about it. You can’t let your work suffer from it.”
“Thanks mom for letting me see my boyfriend,” Billy said with a lilt. “I promise to be a good boy and not let him go further than first base.”
She rolled her eyes so hard that Billy could almost hear them twisting in her head. It made him laugh.
“You know what I mean!” she exasperated with a smile. “Just don’t forget everything else that’s important. I think a guy of his caliber understands that.”
Her tone was light, but Billy acknowledged the meaning behind the words. “Yeah, I think he does.”
Their discussion was interrupted by the front door buzzer going off.
She cocked her head. “Waiting for someone at this hour?”
Billy frowned. “Not that I know of. Oh, maybe it’s Heather,” he said, getting up. “She sometimes forgets her phone and keys.” He wiped his hands to a napkin as he walked to the end of the corridor and pushed the talk-button. “Yo?”
“Uh…”
Silence.
“Hello?” Billy tried again.
“Is this…Billy?”
Billy recognized the voice, and his heart jumped into his throat. “Steve?” he asked, incredulous.
“Oh, thank god!” Steve let out a relieved sigh. “I thought I had the wrong address.”
Billy bit his lips for a moment. While he was excited that Steve was here, as if summoned by his own thoughts, he would’ve wanted him to meet Max just a bit later. But ok, now it was. “Come on up. Fourth floor.”
Billy was waiting in the doorway when Steve stepped out from the elevator with a coy smile. Billy smiled back, his heartbeat quickening. He realized how much he had missed Steve, and it had been just a few days.
“What are you doing here and at this hour?” he asked quietly when Steve reached him.
“Missed you,” Steve said, the words full of playfulness and something deeper.
There was a burn in Steve’s eyes Billy recognized immediately. “Oh, really?” he teased, a wide smile spreading across his face.
“Yeah,” Steve said, stepping closer and reaching out to brush Billy’s arm with his fingers. “Missed being in the same space with my boyfriend.”
The word hit Billy with unexpected warmth and his heart soared from the knowledge he wasn’t the only one who wanted this that much and couldn’t stay away. “Mr. Harrington,” he drawled, smirking. “I never thought you’d be so clingy.”
Steve leaned his elbow high up on the door frame and leaned in, giving Billy a slow once-over. “You can’t really blame me,” he said huskily. “I have such a fine specimen here…”
“Did he come for a booty call?” Max’s voice carried through the door, making both of them flinch.
Steve’s face fell, and his expression turned into utter surprise. He looked at Billy, wide-eyed.
Billy blushed and squeezed his eyes closed, letting out a small laugh. “That’s…uh…that’s my sister,”
“She’s here?” Steve mouthed, mortified.
Billy nodded with a laugh. “You should’ve called.”
“Well, you said she lived in Chicago,” Steve chuckled.
“Hey, I didn’t know she was going to be around tonight. She was already here when I came home. Wanna still come in?”
Steve ran his fingers through his hair a couple of times and smoothed his shirt. “How do I look?”
Billy measured him from head to toes and back with his eyes, then made a so-so gesture with his hand. “Presentable.”
Steve rolled his eyes, amused. “Oh gee, thanks.”
Billy grinned as he opened the door behind him. “Welcome to my humble abode.”
Billy closed the door behind them and watched, his heart still in his throat, as Max reached out her hand and introduced herself. Steve took it and gave it a firm shake, and for a moment Billy was expecting him to don the steely professional facade he’d come to recognize.
Instead, Steve’s smile was wide and the tone of his voice warm. “Nice to meet you, Max. I’m Steve. Harrington.”
“So, you’re Mr. Big,” she said with a lilt.
Billy knew his sister well enough that the tone she said the words in immediately told him she was going straight for the kill. Killing Billy, that is. “Maxine…” he muttered a warning.
Max looked at Billy with a smirk. “What do you want me to say?” Then she turned back to Steve. “You’re the one Billy loses his appetite for. That makes you quite big.”
Steve glanced at Billy with a small, amused smile, but a faint blush was dusting his cheeks.
“Oh, fuck you, Max,” Billy scoffed.
She looked at him, mock-offended. “What? I’m being nice. You know I could’ve gone with something that would’ve made you both blush.” She looked back at Steve. “He’s always scared something’s gonna slip out of my mouth. I never do that.”
“You already started with a booty call,” Billy said, mortified, and looked at Steve. “Don’t believe her. She’s always like this.” Wanting to get past the embarrassment she had created, Billy spurred into action and pulled the hem of Steve’s jacket gently. “Give me your coat. I’ll hang it up.”
As Billy put Steve’s jacket on the hook, Max grinned at him the same way she’d done when they’d been teens and she’d gotten under his skin with a simple playful tease. She would give him that look and run to her room, giggling and barely saving herself from roughhousing. Billy glared daggers at her, feeling exactly the same as he had then. It felt oddly comforting. She had welcomed Steve as herself, just like Steve had greeted her, and that was a good thing.
“You hungry?” Billy asked Steve, who was looking around the tight corridor with a small, approving smile on his face. “Haven’t eaten all day, so got some takeaway. There’s plenty.”
A concerned crease appeared between Steve’s eyebrows. “You haven’t eaten all day?”
There was a warmth in Steve’s voice that made Billy’s heart trip over itself.
Max cleared her throat with a smile and she began gathering her things. “I’ll call an Uber.”
Billy felt brave enough to place his hands on Steve’s waist and push him towards the kitchen in front of him. “Yeah, you better,” he quipped in her general direction.
Billy let go of Steve when they got to the kitchen and was about to go to the cupboard for a plate when Steve grabbed his wrist and pulled him back.
“I didn’t get a welcome kiss,” Steve whispered, his eyes sparkling with excitement as he leaned in, pressing his lips against Billy’s.
Steve’s mouth was hot, urgent, full of all the things Billy had missed and more. Billy pushed against him, his body tingling, his miserable feelings all forgotten. He wanted this, wanted to stay right here, feel everything. And when Steve wrapped his arms around Billy’s back, pulled him even closer, deeper into the kiss, Billy could hardly breathe.
Didn’t want to, didn’t need to. He could live off this forever.
“Welcome,” he said when they finally, reluctantly pulled apart. He wanted more, already. Wanted to pick up right where they left off, not hold anything back.
Steve looked back at him, his eyes bright and filled with something that matched Billy’s own longing, laughing softly. “Thanks for having me.”
They were settling on the table when Max appeared in the doorway, a grin spreading across her face. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone.”
“Weren’t you supposed to be gone already?” Billy shot back.
She chuckled. “I originally came here to tell you that I’ll be moving to New York in a few months. My boss transferred here.”
Billy looked at her, surprised. “Oh.”
Max smiled. “Yeah. We can talk about it later. It was really nice to meet you, Steve.”
A wide smile spread across Steve’s face. “You too, Max. I’m sorry I interrupted your evening.”
She chuckled. “It’s okay, I deserved it. See you.”
When Max was gone, Billy sat across the table from Steve, who was now looking at him, concerned.
“Why haven’t you eaten?”
There was a worried tone in his voice that warmed Billy’s chest. The people interested in him not eating—or about anything he did—so far had been few. “Just couldn’t.”
There was a teasing grin tugging the corner of Steve’s mouth up as he looked at all the boxes on the table. “So, this is the solution?”
Billy laughed, shaking his head, and nudged Steve’s foot under the table. “No, you’re the solution.”
The look on Steve’s face softened, and he reached out his hand to brush Billy’s hand with his fingers. “You missed me that much?”
Tears were suddenly pressing behind Billy’s eyes, the realization of the depth of his feelings a heavy weight on his shoulders.
He was stupidly head over heels… in love. Just after a week. Just after barely two dates.
“Yeah,” he whispered and looked down at the now cold and soggy meat and potatoes on his plate.
“Billy, look at me,” Steve said softly.
When Billy did, he saw Steve’s brown eyes welling with tears of his own. “Oh, baby,” he said, “I didn’t mean to make you cry…”
Steve wiped his eyes on his arm. “It’s okay, it’s not that. I…I came here, bec—uh, because I…I can’t…” Steve swallowed.
For a moment, Billy’s stomach was already dropping ten floors underground when Steve finally found the words.
“I can’t sleep and it’s because…the pillow and the sheets smell like you—and you’re not there.” He squeezed his eyes closed and looked away, shaking his head a little. “It’s so pathetic. I’ve slept alone for so long and now…”
“It’s not pathetic,” Billy whispered. “It’s sweet. No one has ever lost sleep because of me.”
Steve looked back at Billy. “No one has ever lost their appetite for me, either.”
Billy didn’t care if he was a fool for letting himself get in this deep, this fast. He wanted it, wanted to dive in, wanted to be Steve’s. He’d never been this sure of anything, this sure that he could let it happen, that he could let himself go. It was terrifying. It was the best he’d felt in ages. “Maybe we can think of a solution to those problems,” he said with a small smile.
Steve nodded, smiling gently. “Yeah, I believe we can come to some kind of arrangement to fix them. But should we eat? So that we get your problem off the table.”
Billy smirked. “Eager to get to fixing yours?”
The smile on Steve’s face widened, and he did another slow once-over of Billy . “Well…maybe sleeping wasn’t the only thing I had in mind when I came here.”
+ + +
After they’d eaten, Billy was holding his stomach and let out a burp. “Sorry!”
Steve laughed. “It’s okay.” He rubbed his own stomach. “God, that was heavy. I feel like I’ve eaten a whole cow. This is seriously your depression food? What happened to ice cream?”
“I may have eaten with my eyes when I chose all this,” Billy chuckled. “It was good you came to help with it because otherwise I’d probably eaten it all by myself.” He winced. “And then passed out into a food coma.”
“I feel like I could pass out right about now.”
A new hunger woke inside Billy. “You wanna stay the night?”
Steve brushed Billy’s ankle with his foot under the table. “You want me to?”
Billy licked his lips. “Of course I do.”
A lopsided grin spread across Steve’s face. “Well, I guess I’m staying then.”
Billy got up, taking Steve’s hand. “Come on. We can clean up in the morning.”
As Billy opened the door to his room, he turned the lights on and looked at Steve, who was taking it all in. The bookshelf, the open clothes rack in front of the closet, the small desk in the corner by the window, the bed on the other side. Suddenly, he felt embarrassed. The room was fairly spacious, but still barely half the size of Steve’s closet. “I’m sorry it’s small,” he said, almost apologetically.
Steve looked at him with a reassuring smile. “I don’t mind. The studio apartment where I lived for years before I got the first Gucci gig was the size of this room and your kitchen. And it didn’t even have a proper kitchen,” he said with a laugh. Then he pulled Billy against him, leaning in and brushing Billy’s ear with his lips.
The touch made Billy shiver, made him gasp—made him forget about everything except right now.
“I like it,” Steve said, voice low. “It’s the home of my favorite person in the whole wide world.”
Billy turned, found Steve’s mouth, tasted him, let him know he meant it.
The world outside faded away, leaving them in the quiet and calm of the room. Billy let himself breathe, let himself take it all in, take in Steve, his lips, his body, his need.
Afterwards, they lay tangled in the sheets, the glow of the street lamps casting shadows in the ceiling, painting the room with bluish hue. The street was quiet like it always was at this hour, so the loudest sound in the room was the hum from the air conditioning and their breathing.
Billy watched Steve’s chest rise and fall, savoring the moment between them, tracing patterns in his chest hair with his finger.
“Hey you,” Steve whispered.
Billy turned to look at him and was met with a smile. “Hey yourself.”
Steve pulled his hand away from under Billy’s neck and turned on his side to face him, moving close enough to so that there was space enough just for their arms to lie between them.
Billy could’ve leaned in for a kiss, but Steve took Billy’s hands in his and placed kisses on the knuckles of both of them. Just softly brushing them with his lips, like they were something delicate, something that would break from a harder touch.
“I…When I couldn’t sleep I…thought of things,” Steve said, his tone careful.
Billy waited, not wanting to rush Steve from finding the words.
“You know how…one experience can give you a bad taste for every other similar one even before they’re happening?” Steve asked.
“Yeah. I think about it all the time.”
Steve raised an eyebrow. “With me?”
“Uh huh. Just…” Billy hesitated. “Max thinks I’m rushing into things. You know, feelings. Everything.”
Steve’s gaze didn’t waver. “She’s probably not wrong,” he said, but there was a warmth in his voice that put Billy at ease.
“I just don’t want to mess this up,” Billy confessed. “Like I did all the others. Rushed into them and then…”
Steve intertwined their fingers. “You can’t mess this up,” he assured.
“So…you don’t have a bad taste about us?” Billy asked carefully.
“No, of course not. I just…thought I’d given up on all of this.” Steve squeezed Billy’s hands gently. “It’s just…the last time I let myself get this close to someone, it didn’t go well.”
The deflated expression on Steve’s face almost broke Billy’s heart. He squeezed Steve’s hand in return. He wanted to comfort Steve, but he also didn’t want to interrupt him when he was sharing clearly something so personal, so important. When Steve was this vulnerable in front of him for the first time. “What happened?” he asked quietly after a while when Steve said nothing.
Steve took a deep breath as if he was going through a massive hurdle. “He cheated on me.”
Billy lifted his hand to brush Steve’s cheek with it. “Baby…I’m so sorry,” he whispered. He thought for a while, wanting to know more. “Was it someone like me?”
Steve took Billy’s hand and kissed the palm. “He was nothing like you.” Steve looked like it was actually painful to bring himself to say more, to fully reveal that particular scar. “He was an arrogant prick who cared about no one else but himself.” He bit his lip for a moment. “And he’s still the same, hasn’t changed a bit.”
Billy suddenly got a bad feeling that he already knew who they were talking about. “Does he work in the industry or…?” he asked, his stomach tightening. “I mean, is there a chance I might run into him?”
“Yeah, your paths will most definitely cross,” Steve said, sounding tired. “It’s Tommy Hagan.”
No warnings for this chapter. Tags: Feelings realization (the other way around I guess)
Summary: Steve had been struggling the whole night with the words he should've said in the evening and in the morning he finally decides just to go for it. Unfortunately the universe seems to have everything against him on that day.
Read on AO3 >>
:::::::::::
Steve had kicked himself mentally through the entire night for not saying the words in the evening. Three small words that would’ve probably changed everything and he couldn’t get them out of his mouth.
And now that they were sitting at the breakfast table, it felt just stupid if he’d say them here in the middle of coffee and eggs. Pass me the sugar and I like you please don’t go to your ex’s art thing.
“So, you’re going to the opening, then?” he ventured as he stirred his coffee absentmindedly.
Billy nodded, keeping his eyes on the newspaper.
“Uh, about that…” Steve started his brave try, despite the awkwardness.
Billy looked up from the newspaper.
“At what time is it?” Steve asked.
“Six.”
“Right.” Just say it, you idiot, Steve scolded himself. “I was thinking, um…”
Suddenly there was a loud knock on the terrace door and both of them turned to look at who was pounding it at this hour.
“Hey, Malibu!” Argyle shouted through the door. “Weren’t we supposed to catch some waves this morning?”
“Oh, yeah, just a moment!” Billy shouted back and looked at Steve. “We agreed with Argyle that we’d go…” Billy started and motioned to the living room.
Steve wanted to strangle Argyle. “Yeah, you go ahead,” he said with a wave of his hand, managing to keep his tone light—but just barely.
Billy looked at him for a moment. “You sure?”
Steve nodded. “U-huh. It can wait.”
“Alright,” Billy said, nodding. He shouted to Argyle, “I’ll be there in five!” and left to get his gear.
Steve leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. He tried to assure himself that he could still talk about it with Billy when he came back from the beach. There was time.
So, to spend the time doing something productive, he finished his breakfast, read the newspaper from cover to cover—hardly remembering any of it, though—and washed the dishes.
He was drying the last plates when the phone rang. He dried his hands on the towel and unhooked the receiver. “Harrington.”
“Morning, Steve,” came a familiar female voice through the wire.
Steve leaned his head against the wall, groaning inwardly. “Hi, mom.”
“We just arrived in San Diego yesterday and I thought—”
“You’re here?” Steve interrupted her, confused. “Why didn’t you call earlier?”
“Well, your father wanted to spend a few days longer in Vegas than we planned and then we kind of forgot.”
Steve sighed. “You were coming this way and didn’t let me know?”
“Well, we thought we’d surprise you,” his mother said with the tone that told Steve that he shouldn’t be offended when his parents decided to grace him with their existence out of the blue.
Steve ran his hand over his face. He already knew where this was going and…he didn’t exactly have anything special to do except that talk with Billy and keep him from going to the gallery opening. He let out a deep sigh. “Okay. What did you have in mind?”
Mrs. Harrington wasn’t amused. “Don’t sound so eager about it, Steve.”
He set the receiver on his shoulder to a bit to squeeze his eyes closed. “Sorry. I just have…things to figure out.”
“Well, can you take a break from thinking and come for a brunch with your parents? Maybe you could recommend a restaurant and we could meet there?”
+ + +
When Billy came back from the beach, to his disappointment, Steve was gone. While in the zone on his board, he’d decided that they’d need to talk about last night—and maybe ask if Steve would want to join him at the opening. To keep Rob from getting any stupid ideas and…just to go out with Steve. Totally not for a date, but just…out.
But now he had no option but to wait for Steve to come back. So, he took a shower and then sat on the couch to watch TV.
Just as he was starting to relax, when the phone ringing in the kitchen shattered the quiet and jolted him back to reality.
Alice, the owner of the aerobic studio, was on the other end, her voice sounding like it came from the bottom of a barrel. “Hi, Billy! I’m sorry this comes on a such a short notice, but would you be able to do my aerobic classes today? I got some nasty bug, and I won’t be leaving the house today.”
Billy wasn’t entirely thrilled about the idea. “Uh, depends on what time,” Billy replied, rubbing his neck with his hand. He knew how much the studio meant to Alice, but he wouldn’t want to be the first she’d call next time…
“They’re from three to five. Please, Billy, everyone else has said no, and I don’t want to cancel.”
Billy looked at the clock on the opposite wall. It was already 2:20 pm, so in order to make it on time, he would have to leave now. “Well, you could’ve called a bit earlier, but sure, I can do that.”
“You are an angel! I’ll make this up to you! Just make sure to be on time,” she teased him, reminding him of the many times he’d been late for his own classes.
Billy laughed. “Don’t worry, I’ll leave right now.”
After hanging up, Billy went to put his aerobics gear together. While at it, he realized that there wouldn’t be time for him to come back home from the studio. He’d have to go to the gallery straight from there.
What a perfect reason to cancel going to the whole thing.
But if he did that, said that he was sick and couldn’t go, even if Rob wouldn’t know he lied, he himself would. And part in becoming himself was to be honest with himself and to everyone else…
Fuck.
He didn’t have to stay there more than just show up, have a flute of sparkling and come back home. He’d live through it.
Now all he needed to do was to go through his wardrobe quickly to find something to wear in the evening and change into at the studio.
+ + +
The brunch with his parents had lasted longer than Steve had expected. It had been nice to see them because he hadn’t seen them after he’d moved away from Hawkins. And since he knew he had time to talk with Billy before six pm, he hadn’t rushed back.
So, when he finally got back home, it was a surprise to find the house empty.
“Billy?” he called out.
No response.
He checked the living room, kitchen and even poked his head into Billy’s bedroom, but there was no sign of him. Not even a note on the kitchen table.
He looked at the aerobics class list on the fridge door, held up by a magnetic surfboard, and immediately he heard Billy’s voice in his head correcting him: It’s a longboard! There’s a difference! It made him smile—apparently he’d finally learned the lesson.
He concentrated on looking at the timetable: Billy’s classes were on Tuesday and Wednesday, and he was fairly certain Billy wouldn’t go for an extra lesson today. Or any day, really. He did his exercise on the waves and by lifting and aerobics was on his own exercise schedule only in the winter.
Steve’s shoulders slumped as he walked back to the living room and plopped down on the couch. He had no idea where Billy could be. The only option he really had was to wait and then go to the gallery and try to catch him at the opening before Rob would do any more damage.
At least he knew where the opening was because it was written on the calendar on the wall; The Brush Poets’ Gallery.
+ + +
Billy walked through the bustling art gallery, his stomach churning with a cocktail of nerves and morbid curiosity. It had been months since he’d last seen Rob, and the prospects of their reunion filled him with equal parts dread and anticipation.
Just breathe. You’ve got this. It’s not like you’re still hung up on the guy, right? He tried to reassure himself, but his sweaty palms and racing heart told a different story.
As he navigated the throng of well-dressed somebodies, Billy caught sight of one of Rob’s paintings hanging on the wall. Rob had painted it during one of their steamy nights, and it made Billy’s chest ache with a bittersweet pang of nostalgia.
Don’t go down that road again , he chided himself firmly. Rob’s ancient history. You’re here just for …Though he wasn’t really sure why he was there. He knew he should’ve left Rob behind, for good, ages ago, but hearing his voice on the phone had breathed life into the embers of the love Billy once had felt.
Fucking feelings. Nothing but trouble.
He found his way to the other end of the space and…there stood Rob next to a podium, looking infuriatingly handsome in a tailored suit that hugged his lean frame in all the right places.
Billy snorted and pondered for a moment who Rob had coaxed into giving him the money for it, since sure as hell wouldn’t have money for having tailored anything himself.
Probably someone from this crowd. Though Billy was sure most of them were here just to show themselves and get tipsy before heading out to the blinding lights of the city.
As if on cue, Rob turned to look in Billy’s direction, and the way his eyes lit up when their gazes met made butterflies take flight in Billy’s stomach.
Though Billy wasn’t sure if it was a flutter of cute small butterflies or just a few big, ugly moths reminding him of the pain Rob had caused.
+ + +
The dusk had started to settle when Steve parked his car around the corner from the gallery. He gripped the steering wheel for a while after turning off the engine. He wasn’t entirely sure if this still was a good idea. But he also knew it needed to be done. He needed it done.
So, he got out of the car and walked back to the gallery, hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket. When he got there, he stopped to look inside through the windows. Surprisingly sizable crowd of people seemed to be inside. He recognized some faces—sure as hell, everyone who’s anyone, and so on. He tried to look for Billy, but there were too many people for him to tell.
Doubt crept in as he gazed inside. He wasn’t sure if he should be here. If it would make any difference. But going in was his only possibility to tell Billy how he felt before Rob did something that would ruin his chances.
The vibrant atmosphere of the gallery enveloped him as he stepped through the doors. The bright track lights illuminated the colorful abstract paintings that lined the white walls, and soft instrumental music mingled with the lively chatter of the crowd holding wine glasses.
But there was only one thing Steve’s eyes were on the lookout for; the long blond curls.
“A glass of Chardonnay, sir?” a waiter materialized at Steve’s elbow.
Steve jumped at the sudden words coming from right next to him. “Oh, um, no thank you,” Steve stammered.
Get it together, Harrington.
To calm himself, he took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of expensive perfume that lingered all over. He meandered along the perimeter, taking in the colorful, emotive artworks while surreptitiously keeping an eye out for Billy in the crowd.
With each passing moment, his nerves raised closer to the surface. What would he even say if he bumped into Billy? Hey buddy, fancy seeing you here! Looking damn fine in that…whatever he would be wearing.
Steve shook his head. Great, only cheesy pickup lines in store.
As Steve found his way further into the space, he finally stopped. There, on the side of a small podium, was Billy.
Steve smiled. Billy had his hair up in a messy bun and strands were hanging loose, framing his face. He was wearing a simple white silk shirt that hung on his broad shoulders and—if it was any consolation to Steve—his normal blue jeans and not the tighter than tight black jeans he usually wore when he went out. Not that the blue ones were any less tight, mind you.
+ + +
Just before Billy reached Rob, the artist stepped up to the small podium and raised his hand to silence the crowd. His voice rose above the chatter as he began his thank you speech, and Billy found himself drawn into the orbit of his presence despite the nagging discomfort.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” his snobby voice rang out, silencing the room. “I want to thank you all for coming tonight to celebrate the unveiling of my latest collection.”
+ + +
So, this was the infamous Rob, Steve thought as the tall, dark-haired man started talking. A lot better looking than he had imagined, and, he had to admit, he could vaguely understand what Billy must’ve seen in the guy.
Rob continued his speech, his tone dripping with self-importance. “This exhibition would not have been possible without the support of you, my patrons and my friends, and most importantly, my muse.” Then he turned to look down at Billy with a wide smile, his hand reaching out.
+ + +
Billy’s heart stopped as Rob’s gaze locked with his. Oh, no. Please don’t. Not here, not now...
But it was too late. Rob was already reaching out, his eyes never leaving Billy’s. Once again, Rob did what he did best; put Billy in the spotlight so that he couldn’t say no.
Billy allowed himself to be pulled onto the podium, standing next to Rob.
Rob took his hand in his. “This man, this incredible, beautiful man, has been the inspiration behind every brush stroke, every color choice. My boyfriend, Billy Hargrove.”
Billy felt the color drain from his face as every head in the room swiveled to stare at him. Boyfriend? What the hell? We broke up months ago!
+ + +
Steve’s stomach twisted, his mind reeling. Boyfriend? Was this guy serious?
Rob had hurt Billy and Billy wouldn’t go back with him unless…
Unless…they’d made up.
Billy had been gone when Steve got home, and that was a few hours before this event was to start. What if they’d been talking things through and…
+ + +
Before Billy could protest, in a swift, fluid motion, Rob leaned in and captured Billy’s lips in a passionate kiss. His mind reeled as Rob’s lips moved against his, the familiar taste and scent of him flooding his senses with memories he’d tried so hard to forget.
+ + +
Steve watched, frozen, as Billy melted into Rob’s embrace, their bodies fitting together like perfectly sculpted puzzle pieces—and his heart shattered, the pieces scattering like shards of glass on the floor.
His eyes were stinging. Conflicting emotions washed over him, each one more painful than the last. The realization that he had lost his chance with Billy, that he had been too late, too cautious, too afraid, hit him like a wrecking ball.
You waited too long, and now look where it’s gotten you, he berated himself silently.
The bitter taste of regret lingered on his tongue, the weight of what could have been pressing down on his shoulders. He had missed his chance, and now he had to live with the knowledge that Billy’s heart belonged to someone else.
With a heavy heart, Steve made the swift decision to leave the gallery. He quickly slipped through the crowd, his steps laden with disappointment and regret.
+ + +
When Rob finally pulled away, Billy was breathless and shaking, a storm of emotions raging inside him. Shock, anger, confusion, and worst of all…a traitorous flicker of desire that he couldn’t seem to quench no matter how hard he tried.
With a shaky breath, Billy pulled away from Rob’s embrace, his insides blazing with a mix of hurt and determination. “I…I can’t…Rob, you can’t just waltz back into my life and pretend nothing’s changed,” he said, his voice low but firm. “You made it pretty clear that we’re over when you walked out of my life.”
Rob’s confident smile faltered, and he glanced at the crowd that was looking at them, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. “Come on, babe. We’re meant to be together. Why else would fate bring us here tonight?”
Billy shook his head, a mirthless chuckle escaping his lips. “Fate? No! You asked me to come, and I was stupid enough to do that. You’re just trying to mess with my head again. It’s not going to work this time.” He took a step back, putting some much-needed distance between them. “I’ve moved on. I’ve found someone who actually cares about me, who’s there for me when I need him. Someone who doesn’t just use me as a prop in his little art world dramas.” He said the last sentence louder than the rest, ensuring that at least the front row heard it.
Rob’s face darkened, his jaw clenching. “Oh, please. You expect me to believe you’ve found someone better than me? Who is this mystery man, huh?”
Billy turned away from Rob, determined to step down from the podium when his eyes spotted a familiar figure by the large windows of the gallery, quickly retreating towards the door.
Steve.
His heart seized in his chest as he watched Steve go out the door, his shoulders hunched and his head bowed.
And in that moment, everything clicked into place.
Steve had come after him. He wouldn’t be here, unless…Unless he had feelings—for him.
Without another word to Rob, Billy stepped down from the podium and pushed his way through the crowd, his eyes fixed on the door Steve had just disappeared through.
+ + +
The cool night air enveloped Steve as he stepped out of the gallery, a welcome change from the suffocating atmosphere inside. As he walked back to his car, he inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with the crisp, clean air, hoping it would somehow cleanse the pain that had settled in his chest.
+ + +
Billy burst through the gallery door, his heart pounding in his chest as he scanned the crowded street for any sign of Steve. The cool evening air hit his skin, a stark contrast to the stuffy atmosphere inside the gallery, but he barely noticed. All he could think about was finding Steve as he scanned the street with his gaze.
Come on, Steve. Where are you?
Just as he was losing hope, he caught a glimpse of the familiar dark hair turning the corner up ahead. His heart leaped in his chest, and he took off to follow it, dodging around a group of tourists who were blocking his path.
+ + +
Steve fished the keys out of his pocket, his fingers trembling slightly as he unlocked the door and slid into the driver’s seat. The familiar scent of leather and the soft purr of the engine as he turned the key provided a small measure of comfort, a reminder that at least some things were constant in his life that would remain unchanged.
As he pulled out of the parking spot and onto the street, he let his mind wander, replaying the events of the evening in his head.
The image of Billy and Rob, locked in a passionate embrace, seemed to be seared into his memory, a painful reminder of what he had lost before he even had a chance to truly have it.
+ + +
Billy rounded the corner, his breath coming in quick gasps as he searched the street ahead. There was no sign of Steve. He’d probably had his car parked near here and had just pulled off.
“Fuck!” Billy growled, startling an elderly couple who was just passing him. They mumbled something about manners as they continued on their way.
Billy turned on his heel and headed back towards the gallery, his mind already mapping out the quickest route back home.
He burst back into the gallery, his heart pounding and his mind reeling. Barely registering the curious stares and whispered comments from the other attendees, he made a beeline to the chair next to the podium, where he’d left his jacket.
As he shrugged it on, he felt a hand on his shoulder. “Babe, where are you going?” Rob asked, his voice laced with concern and a hint of annoyance.
Billy turned to face him, his jaw set and his eyes blazing. “I’m going after Steve,” he said firmly.
Rob’s eyes widened in surprise. “Steve? Who is Steve?”
“He’s the one.”
Rob rolled his eyes. “You’re going to run off after some other guy when you have me?”
Billy shook his head, a rueful smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Rob, what we had was special, but it’s over. Steve is the one I want to be with. Don’t call me again. Ever.”
With that, Billy turned and walked away.
As he pushed through the gallery doors and out into the cool night air and towards the Camaro, he felt a sense of lightness for finally doing what he should’ve done a long time ago. Stopped hanging on to a guy who couldn’t commit and open his eyes to the one who had been there all this time—Steve.
Tags and warnings for this chapter: Angst with happy ending. Tagged mature bc of the collage just in case XD
Author's notes: When I wrote the abrupt finish for this fic in 2023 I was suffering from severe writer's block. I love this fic so much and it broke my heart that I couldn't finish it the way I wanted. But here's the thing with things you love: you want to cherish them and treat them the way they deserve to be treated. And when you do that, they linger in the back of your mind if you haven’t done them justice. So, the ending I wanted to write for this fic always remained in the back of my mind, never letting go. I remembered the premise I had planned for it and also almost all the words I wanted to use all the way until this day, for more than a year.
Which is why, now that the words are flowing again, it felt the right time to do this. To finish it the way it was supposed to. I hope you enjoy it 💜
Moodboard by the lovely @a-redharlequin
Summary: Billy knew there was always someone who would recognize him, always willing to humiliate him—or worse: to humiliate Steve for having a hooker as a partner.
He loved Steve—and he couldn't do that to Steve. The best he could do was to protect him from that.
- -
Or the ending to this fic I always wanted to write but couldn't. Until now.
Read this chapter on AO3 >> / Full fic on AO3 >>
::::::::::
Billy was released from the Mount Sinai Medical Center in Miami two days later.
Steve tried to help Billy get up from the bed, but he pushed Steve away. “I'm just a little bruised,” he laughed. “It's not like I got stitches in nasty places this time. I'll live through these.”
“I'm just trying to help,” Steve said with a small smile as he looked at Billy, who started going through his clothes in the luggage Steve had brought with him. “I'm not sure you can wear the dress again, though,” he continued, his smile faltering. “It was pretty badly torn.”
Billy's smile faltered, and he stopped rummaging the suitcase, looking down at the whatever garment that was in his hands. “I never want to see that dress again,” he whispered.
Steve nodded, and a soft smile returned on his face. “We'll get you other dresses. New ones.”
Billy’s mind reeled. New dresses. More dresses. Manolo Blahniks, private airplanes, vacations on fully staffed yachts that cost half a million to rent for a week…
Steve's words were said in a soft tone, the same he'd murmured into Billy's ear after Billy had told Steve his name and they'd fucked on the deck. When everything had still felt right.
And Billy had let his guard down because of emotions. He'd allowed Steve's words to lure him into thinking that with him, things would be different. That somehow Billy’s reality from just last week would be taken away and never to appear again.
Then he'd been reminded in the cruelest possible way that it would always be there. That there was always someone who would recognize him, always willing to humiliate him—or worse: to humiliate Steve for having a hooker as a partner.
He loved Steve—and he couldn't do that to Steve. The best he could do was to protect him from that.
He tried to swallow the lump away that had suddenly appeared in his throat. Cassie had been right. He never shouldn't have fallen in love with a trick.
And now it was time to pay the price for that mistake.
Billy let out a small laugh and looked at Steve with sad eyes. “I can't do it. We're from different worlds. I wouldn't fit in yours, and you wouldn't want to get into mine.”
Steve smiled and reached out his hand to brush Billy's arm. “Can I be the judge of that?”
Despite Steve’s soft touch, Billy closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to steel himself to say the words he needed to say. “Steve,” he started and looked back at him. “I don't do relationships with clients. I've had two days to think about it and...” Pain was twisting his insides as he forced himself to say the words. “You're sweet and the week was amazing. But what happened…There will always be someone who knows who—what—I am. Always someone ready to remind me or point it out loud to you and mess up your life.”
Steve looked at Billy, concern etched on his face. “What are you talkin—” he started, but was interrupted.
“Listen to me.” Billy clenched his jaw. “Whatever the hospital bill is, take it from my pay. And then I'll be gone.”
Steve's stomach dropped, and he felt a painful squeeze in his chest. “But I thought we…I thought we had an understanding…” he pleaded, his eyes searching Billy's for the reason for this change of heart.
Billy wouldn't meet his eyes. “What you're paying me, it pays my debt and gets me away from the street,” he said quietly. “Isn't that what you wanted?”
Steve bit his lip, but it wouldn't stop wobbling. “I did. But I thought that we'd gotten past that. Moved to other things. Future things .”
Billy shook his head. “This is a future thing.”
“Billy, please. Don't do this.”
Billy bit his tongue so hard that he tasted blood. This was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do.
“I don't love you.” I do, I do, I do, God, how much I do .
“I'm a whore ,” he continued, spitting the word out. “I pretend for living. Whatever you want me to be, I'll be, as long as the price is right. You bought me for a week and it was lovely. But it's over now.”
There was a stunned silence in the room. Steve stared at Billy, expressionless, the tears falling on his cheeks as the only sign of his inner turmoil. After a moment he exhaled sharply and jerked into motion, walking to the sink by the door and took a tissue from the dispenser to wipe his face.
Staring at the crushed wet napkin in his hand, he took a few deep breaths, trying to make sense of Billy's words. Deep inside, he knew Billy was right. The deal had been that Billy would come with him for the week and that was it.
His mistake was that he'd let himself believe Billy's feelings were as deep as his.
He turned to look back at Billy. Even under the bleak white hospital lights, without the makeup and the skimpy outfits—just as himself—Billy was more gorgeous than the first time Steve had seen him leaning on the wall at the corner. Having the chance to get to know the real person behind the curtain was maybe as much as he'd ever should've hoped for from the start—and now that had to be enough.
Steve took his wallet out from the breast pocket of his jacket and dug a credit card from it, reaching it out to Billy. “It's prefilled, all 10k there as agreed.” He cleared his throat. “I'll take care of the medical bill. You owe me nothing.”
After Billy had taken the card, Steve reached his hand out for a shake. “It was nice to get to know you, Billy .”
The smile on Billy's face was small as he shook Steve's hand. “You too, Steve.”
As Steve turned around and walked out, Billy kept his eyes locked on the card in his hands. His freedom of the debts he'd been carrying with him for years, ones that seemed to pile on the more he tried to pay them, all in that small piece of plastic. He should've been overjoyed about it.
But all he could think about was Steve walking out the door, Billy’s heart in his hands.
+ + +
After getting back to Chicago and taking care of his debts, Billy went back home.
The small apartment greeted him with muffled voices from the neighbour's TV and a wailing siren of a firetruck or something from somewhere outside. It was just barely bigger than the suite on the yacht had been, and now, after all the luxury, it felt bland and pathetic.
Billy sat on his bed and looked around. The small kitchen in the nook behind a tiny bathroom, a few movie posters pinned on the wall. A clothes rack full of raunchy outfits ready to go and a shelf full of high heels of all kinds, each pair with longer spikes than the previous one. A makeup table full of everything one would need to put on a full variety show.
Just a few pairs of normal jeans, a leather jacket, and a pair of biker boots in the corner.
His life had been so concentrated on putting up a show for others, for money—for selling himself for the night—that his own self was left just at that bare minimum. It was all he'd had to afford to give himself.
All this had been his daily life just a few weeks ago. All he'd thought he'd ever be any good for.
And then, Steve—his knight in shining armor—had entered his life, swooped him into his arms and whispered sweet nothings into his ear.
Because that's what Billy had to tell himself Steve's words were. Lies that wouldn't hold the light of day whispered in the dark, far away from home, from real life. Because looking around him, all Billy could see was someone who couldn't be with someone like Steve. Wouldn’t fit with him.
No way could Steve really love him, really want to build something real with him.
Especially a future.
No. It was all make believe. Steve would've realized after a few months tops Billy wasn't right for him and discarded him, just like the rest of his boyfriends had done.
It was better this way.
Even though Steve had been the only one who'd ever looked at him with such admiration, like he was Steve's entire world. Held him gently but surely and treated him like he was something precious, like he deserved it.
Treacherous tears were pouring on Billy's cheeks and he wiped them angrily away. He reminded himself that Steve was a dreamboat: one who someone like Billy could only have for one week, and even that was more than he ever deserved.
He had to get away. If he stayed here, it would be just a matter of time when he'd break his streak, get some blow and be back in the street corner, trying to pay off yet another debt. And then he'd blown the chance to get away from all that Steve had generously provided him.
His sweet sweet Steve. The one who persistently stuck in Billy's thoughts, never relenting.
The whole 30 hours on the bus, his thoughts had always ended up circling back to Steve, back to what had been, to what could've been.
As much as Billy needed to get away from these remnants of his past life, he also needed to get away from Steve, to make sure he never saw him again. To make sure he never saw him with someone else. Never saw him happy with anyone else.
So, he grabbed his phone and dialed the number he'd hoped to be able to call for a long time. One he'd promised to call when he was out of debt and out from the street.
After a few rings, Max, his sister, picked up.
+ + +
It was drizzling when Billy, a few days later, stepped out of the taxi and walked to the corner with his bag. He wanted to see Cassie one more time, to thank her for everything she'd ever done, and he'd figured it was best to do it quickly, between her tricks.
As he'd expected, Cassie was working, so in the meantime, he greeted the other girls and exchanged a few words with each one. Said goodbyes, agreeing with everyone to keep in touch—even though they all knew it would never happen.
Billy had already thrown away his burner phone and would never get a new one. No one would reach him, but he'd give his real phone number to Cas—because she was a friend. Someone who'd had his back when he needed it most.
When Cassie finally walked back from under the highway ramp where she'd handled a john, Billy broke into tears.
She typed something on her phone as she walked and put it away as Billy spread his arms for a hug. She hugged him viciously tight. “You're leaving?” she asked hoarsely.
“Uh huh,” Billy sniffled.
“I'm glad you came.”
After a long while just soaking in the closeness of his probably best friend he’d ever had, Billy let go and wiped his face to his sleeve. “Needed to.”
Cassie pulled out a tissue from her purse and dabbed her eyes. When she looked back at Billy, she smiled. “So, where are you heading to?”
“Thought I'll check out San Francisco. Figure out what I want to be when I grow up.”
She smiled. “I hope you do.”
Billy nodded. “Listen, I'm…” He cleared his throat and dug his bag, pulling out a folded stack of money, and held it out to her. “You've always been good to me. And you helped with the dress.”
Cassie stared at the offering for a while, then took it. “The dress did what it was supposed to?”
“Well, actually,” Billy said quietly. “Remember when I was raped? The guy who did it, he,uh…he was there and…”
Cassie's eyes widened in horror. “What?! Are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, I'm fine,” Billy said, letting out a small laugh. “It's a long story, but turns out I wasn't the only one he raped. He's going to jail.”
“That's good,” Cassie said and took Billy's hand in hers. “It wasn't Steve, was it?”
“No, no, of course not. Steve could never do anything like that. But, uh…Steve had contacts, and he found out it was him and…” Billy replied, tears pooling in his eyes. “He saved me from that piece of shit raping me again.”
Cassie reached out for another hug. “Oh, sweetie,” she said, sighing, and held Billy tight.
Billy tried to hold back the tears that seemed to totally disobey him tonight. But they stubbornly dwelled in his eyes.
“Was he worth it?” Cassie asked softly. “Falling in love with, I mean.”
Billy let out a deep sigh. “More than,” he whispered.
Cassie let go of Billy and looked at him as she smiled a mysterious smile, then looking past Billy. “Then I think that big Audi is there for you.”
Billy stiffened, and his insides twisted in knots. “You didn't…”
But Cassie just smiled. “You're one of the good ones. And so is he. You deserve to be happy.”
“But…how did you…?”
“Turned out we had shared acquaintances.” Cassie shook her head. “What he did…He loves you too. Don't let happiness pass you by, Sweetie.”
Billy's eyes were dwelling again. “It's not Sweetie anymore. It's Billy.”
Cassie’s smile widened, and she hugged Billy again. “I like the sound of that. Suits you.” She let go and patted Billy's chest. “Now, go .”
The moment Cassie had sent him the message of Billy being at the corner, Steve had dropped everything and rushed through the city like a bat out of hell, hoping he wouldn’t be late.
The number Billy had given him had no longer worked, and Steve hadn't known what to do. He'd only known that he couldn't live without Billy.
So, he'd called Hagan, asked him to ask around, but lo-and-behold, the man had straight away known someone who knew Billy by his street name. Thanks to asking around for others who'd been raped viciously, the woman had asked Hagan to get her into contact with whoever got the rapist in jail, so she could thank him. And so Steve had called her. Cassie.
He'd pulled the car over to the same place where he'd waited for Billy the first night they'd met. The drizzle that had been falling all day had just turned into rain, but for once Steve didn't care if he got wet.
Because Billy was there, right in front of him, talking with a small woman Steve thought had to be Cassie.
Billy.
No longer Sweetie. No longer a hooker, but a man who had the world ahead of him. And Steve hoped Billy would give him a chance.
Finally, Billy turned around and looked in Steve's direction.
Steve made a small waving motion with his hand and smiled tentatively. His heart was clawing its way through his chest as he saw Billy hesitating. He wanted to run to him, to assure him he wanted no one else but him, ever, until the end of time.
But he knew Billy had to make that decision this time. He wanted Billy to choose by himself.
He saw Billy handing the woman a note, maybe a phone number, and then hugging her tightly.
And when he let go, he looked back at Steve—and in the wide smile on his face Steve saw the sun shine through the rain.
His heart was bursting through his chest as he rushed to meet Billy halfway over the street.
Billy's bag fell to the ground from his shoulder from the sheer force Steve slammed into him to kiss him. Billy melted the moment their lips touched, and there, enveloped in Steve's sweet embrace, their lips locked into each other, he knew he'd never let go.
When they broke the kiss, Steve leaned his forehead on Billy’s, his hands holding Billy’s cheeks so so gently. “I missed you so much,” Steve murmured. “I just had to...”
“Yeah, I know, I know,” Billy replied, not caring if the tears were again falling on his cheeks. “Me too.”
Steve was crying now, too. “Never go away again,” he whispered hoarsely.
Billy placed his hands over Steve’s. “I won't. I promise.”
When Steve finally let go, Billy picked up his bag from the ground to find out it was soaking wet. He cursed.
“Sorry about that,” Steve said sheepishly. He rushed to open the passenger side door. “Come, let's get you away from the rain.”
When they were sitting in the car, the heater turned on full to warm them up, Steve glanced at Billy's bag. “Where were you off to?”
“San Francisco,” Billy replied quietly. He looked back at Steve and felt a knot forming in his stomach again. “My sister lives there, and I promised I'd...”
Steve smiled softly and took Billy's hand, intertwining their fingers. “Sister, huh?”
Billy smiled, chuckling as he realized what he’d done. And it’d slipped out so easily. Because this was Steve. He was safe—as himself. “Yeah. A sister.”
Steve pulled Billy's hand to his lips and placed a kiss on his knuckles. “Well, as it happens, I have a loft there. We could go and check it out.”
Billy frowned. “You'd drive me all the way there? Just like that?”
“Of course. And, you know…maybe, uh, maybe give you a key. If you want. I mean, uh, I—I’d need, eh…” Steve stammered, and a blush crept on his face.
Billy thought it was the cutest thing he’d ever seen.
“Uh, I’d need someone to look out for the place,” Steve continued. “Until I can finish things here and move there.”
A smile wide enough for it to hurt Billy's cheeks spread across his face, his heart fuller than it’d ever been. “You're really serious about this?”
Steve kissed Billy's fingers again, nodding. “Never been this much about anything else before.”
Warning: period-typical homophopia. Made for @harringrove-relay-race 💜
Also on AO3 >>
Sunlight bleeds into the ceiling and on the top of the wall of their small bedroom from behind the curtain that sways slowly in the wind in front of the slightly open window.
Billy sits down next to Steve on the bed, doing his best not to wake him up. He knows he should be well on his way, but the sun is about to get up and Steve laying in bed like this—on this morning of all mornings—Billy can't leave, not just yet.
Steve is laying on his stomach, hugging his pillow, and his dark chocolate hair is a mess. Billy smiles as he runs his fingers gently through the hair, careful not to accidentally pull on any tangles and wake Steve up. Some locks are mushed between Steve's cheek and his pillow and a few strands are stuck on his cheekbones. The rest is a wild mop over his forehead and on the pillow.
Billy loves it when Steve's hair is like this. Untamed, untethered, unbothered.
Free.
Billy likes when Steve's like that, too.
Steve's been drooling in his sleep. Again.
It never fails to be endlessly endearing to Billy. He'll never tell that to Steve, though, because Steve hates that he drools in his sleep. Waking up every morning to your pillowcase being wet—or to a crusty line leading down from the corner of your mouth to your jaw or cheek—isn't classy, according to Steve.
For some godforsaken reason, he still thinks that he should be classy, as if there was nothing else he could be. But Billy knows that when Steve says those words, it's Steve's dad speaking, not Steve.
Billy isn't classy, and yet here Steve is, in bed with him. The sole proof of the words not being Steve's.
Billy knows it's not easy to let go of your past, even if you're doing better now. For them, it'll take years, if not decades, to let go of all the horrors of the past. If they ever can.
But it doesn't matter, not this morning—or ever, really, not anymore. Because of this, right here; Steve, next to him, with him.
The rays wander closer to the bed, already caressing the headboard. Billy has decided to stay until the sun reaches Steve's face.
Because today of all days, he wants to see his boyfriend's sleeping face lit up by the morning sun.
He's seen it so many times painted by the last rays just before the dusk settles, or just before the sun reaches the first steps of the ladders that lead high upon the sky above the horizon.
But never has he seen it in the first morning rays, as the sun starts climbing high up onto the sky. Whenever there’s been a chance for him to catch the sight, it's always been the wrong place, or overcast or raining, or he's been already late, or whatever the hell else that's been keeping him from staying just for just a while longer.
Today, though, nothing else matters so much as this. The rest of the world can wait for ten minutes. He'll just drive that much faster to get to work on time. Hell, he'll even take a ticket and pay it gladly if it comes to that.
This morning, when he saw that the sky was free of clouds, he decided he wants to see the first rays of the morning sun basking on Steve's sleeping face.
Because today is special.
Yesterday, they moved into this tiny apartment. Officially to everyone else as roommates, of course. But to them, it's their first home.
The apartment is small; one bedroom, a tiny bathroom and an open space with a kitchen nook in one corner, and in the other a makeshift living room created by a couch and the small, bright red TV on a crate. There's no space for a kitchen table, so they'll be eating on the couch for now.
But it doesn't matter. Because the bedroom, even if tiny as well, has a closet, just big enough for their clothes, and enough space for their bed.
And in there, in that bed, they are.
Billy wants to stay with Steve. He wants to place his head in the crook of Steve's neck and curl himself around him like a cat. Purr into his ears all the dirty words he can come up with and wake Steve up for a round of... Yeah, he wants to, so bad.
It's just that... He started at this new job at Mr. Wilkinson's garage last week and he can't ask on his first week 'hey can I take a day off, um yeah, next Monday would be great'.
No. He needs this job.
- - -
“What is this, Steve?” a female voice, close to screeching, demanded.
Both Steve and Billy snapped their heads toward the voice. They'd been so immersed in making love that they hadn't heard the knock—if there'd ever even been one—or the door opening.
A tall, dark-haired woman looked into Steve's room, her eyes wide. Billy had never met Steve's parents, but he recognized immediately from whom Steve had inherited his looks.
Steve quickly pulled out, his face turning deep red, and he covered himself with his hand as he fumbled to grab his blanket with the other to help Billy cover himself with it.
Billy hid under the blanket and turned his back towards the door. He felt his cheeks heating as shame rolled over him and he felt like crying. No one else had known his secret, their secret, and now the third worst person in the world had learned about it.
“Mom, I can explain...” Steve tried weakly, but his mom cut him off.
“Get rid of that!” she spat.
Billy knew her tone all too well. Surprise of the worst kind, spiced with disbelief and disgust, served hot and painfully burning.
“Be glad it was me who saw this,” she continued. “This, whatever this is, ends now. You hear me, Steve the 3rd Harrington?”
“Yes, ma'am,” Steve said without hesitation.
When the door clicked closed, Steve brushed Billy's side with his hand. “I'm sorry,” he whispered with a hoarse voice, and started sniffling.
Billy realized Steve was crying, and it was all his fault. Everything was.
Him falling in love with Steve and wanting to have Steve to himself. Allowing Steve to fall in love with him. All this even though he knew it wouldn't last and that it would probably end just like this.
Billy was about to say that he'll go when Steve gently pulled the cover from over his head and looked at him.
His eyes were angry red, and the pain in them was obvious. But what came out of his mouth wasn't what Billy had expected: “Just let me pack and I'll come with you.”
“What?” Billy said, confused. “No!”
Steve shook his head. “I'm tired of hiding.”
Billy's stomach dropped at the words. He blinked and tried to find hints of lies in Steve's gaze. There weren't any.
Steve wiped his face into his forearm. “I'll come with you and we'll figure something out,”
“No. I won't let you do that,” Billy said and sat up. “You're not leaving, you have everything here, good things ahead of you—”
Steve cut him off. “I want to be with you. If I stay, I can't. My dad won't... he won't understand, anyway. I might as well come with you now.”
They stared at each other for a while in silence.
Billy swallowed. “You sure?” he asked quietly.
Steve brushed Billy's cheek with his hand and smiled. “Yeah. Never been this sure about anything in my life.”
- - -
So, now that Steve's out from Loch Nora, disowned and cut off from the Harringtons' inheritance for good, they're truly on their own until Steve turns twenty-five and gets his hands on his trust fund—the only thing his parents allowed him to keep along with his name. Yeah, they got some hush money from the government after Starcourt, but Billy needed a new car and Steve put his money on the side for a bad day. They tried not to touch it.
Steve didn't care what his dad thought, but his mom cutting all ties, too, that was a blow. Billy could see it in Steve how badly it hurt.
Maybe she'll come around one day. Billy really hopes that, for Steve's sake.
Thank god for found families, though. For Joyce. And Hop.
- - -
“Joyce?” Billy said as soon as they walked in to the Byers' house.
Joyce had taken Billy in after he'd gotten out of the government facility where he'd been treated for three months after Starcourt. While he'd been recovering Neil had skipped town, leaving Max and Susan behind and living in the trailer park, and Billy just couldn't live in the tiny trailer with them. So, Hop had driven him to Byers' and Joyce hadn't let him leave until he set his bag in Jonathan's old room, 'just until you find a place of your own.'
“Coming,” Joyce replied from somewhere deeper in the house.
“Uh, Steve's here...he, uh, came... When's dinner?” Billy heard himself stumbling over his own words. He couldn't ask Joyce to take Steve in. She'd already taken him, for fuck's sake, but Steve needed a place to stay, at least for the night.
“Oh, hello Steve,” Joyce said, smiling, when she came into the kitchen. “Food is ready, just set the table. Will is staying at the Wheelers over night and Hop is in the night shift, so it's just us tonight.”
“Uh, Joyce...” Billy started and glanced at Steve and then back at Joyce.
She must've recognized the unease in Billy's eyes as she looked at Steve and lowered her gaze at the duffel bag in his hand.
Billy could tell the exact moment she clocked in what was going on.
“Steve, do you need a place to stay?” she asked.
“Um...” Steve started quietly.
Billy followed Joyce's gaze at Steve's hands and noticed that his free hand was trembling. When he looked up at him, he saw him swallowing hard, with tears in his eyes. He took Steve's hand, squeezing it gently, and Steve squeezed it back. “Yeah, he does,” he replied on Steve's behalf. “We’ll start looking for a place of our own tomorrow.”
“You're welcome to stay, Steve,” Joyce said with a gentle smile. Then her cheeks reddened. “I know you two like each other, and that's all fine and dandy. But keep it down then, okay?”
Billy felt his cheeks heating, and he gently squeezed Steve's hand. Steve squeezed it back, and Billy cleared his throat. “We will.”
“I'll pay rent, of course,” Steve said quietly. “Or for food. Anything.”
“That's alright, we can talk those things through later,” she said and turned to the cabinets, taking out plates and cutlery, as if nothing world changing hadn't just happened.
As if one mother hadn't just kicked out her son and straight away another taken that son under her wing.
Steve and Billy looked at each other, stunned.
When Joyce realized they hadn't moved from the door, she turned to look at them. “Well, don't just stand there, boys. I'm starving. I hope you are, too.”
- - -
After a few months of looking, they finally found this place.
Their landlady is Flo, the secretary from the police station.
According to Hop, when she'd heard that two young men were looking for an apartment with a rather quick schedule and that he could vouch for them, she'd told him to call them about the small apartment of her recently passed father.
Billy is convinced Hop made the deal extra sweet for her somehow to get them out of the Byers' house. Because Hop also spent significant amount of time there.
They had really done their best to be as descreet as possible while they'd been staying at the Byers'. But they were young and in love and after sharing the house for a few months with them, Hop had looked relieved when he'd been helping them to carry their meagre belongings, clothes and such, both the couch and the bed frame Joyce wanted to get rid of, and the one thing they bought brand new—a mattress—up onto the second floor where the apartment was.
- - -
“Thanks, Hop,” Billy said when all three of them had finally gotten the last item, the heavy bed frame, upstairs. “For, you know, everything.”
Hop took his ball cap off his head and wiped the sweat from his forehead with his other hand. “Yeah, sure.” He fiddled with the bill of his cap for a moment and then raised his gaze to Steve, who had appeared on Billy's side.
Billy, who could sense trouble miles away, saw that something was brewing and eyed both of them, concerned.
Hop placed his hand on Steve's shoulder, rubbing it. “Steve. I know you're a good kid,” he started with a grave tone, and pointed at Billy with his finger. “But if you ever hurt that boy...”
Billy glanced at Steve; he'd gone stiff and he looked at Hop his eyes wide open.
But he seemed to quickly catch up with what Hop was aiming at, because he straightened his posture and pulled his shoulders back. “I won't,” he said with conviction, the kind Billy had never heard from anyone before. “Sir.”
Suddenly, Billy could feel tears gathering under his eyes, and not just because of Steve's words. He knew Steve cared for him, maybe even loved. And even if that made Billy sometimes cry for being so incredible, it was Hop's words that touched something inside him he'd never thought he'd need; knowing that the man he'd had come to look up to the several months he'd been living at the Buyers' also cared about him... He tried to blink faster to keep the droplets from falling.
Hop stared Steve in the eyes for what must've been just seconds, but what felt like a lifetime. “Alright,” he said, “I trust you. But Joyce, you know... she's a mother tiger. And she's very fond of Billy.”
Steve swallowed and nodded. “Yes, I know. I'll, uh, I'll take good care of him. Sir.”
Hop patted Steve's shoulder and smiled approvingly. “Good. Well,” he said, letting go, and put his cap on. “I'll be off then. Enjoy your freedom, boys.”
Both Billy and Steve stared at the door after Hop had closed it after him.
Billy, still trying to blink his tears away, looked at Steve again. The sight made joy bubble in his stomach and laughter break its way through his tears; Steve looked ashen and truly shaken, something Billy had never seen before. And, for some reason, knowing it was because what Hop had said made it endlessly amusing.
Steve tore his eyes off the door and looked at Billy. “Jesus Christ! Ted was never that intimidating. I almost peed my pants.”
The statement made Billy cackle even more.
Steve's expression turned from shock to sour and he punched Billy in the arm with his fist—not too hard, though. “Hey, stop laughing. If you'd received a shovel talk like that from Hop, I doubt you'd feel any different,” he said defensively.
Billy was glad about the laughing fit because now he could claim his tears came from that. “You should've seen your face, though. It was priceless,” he wheezed, wiping his eyes.
Steve frowned at him, but then his gaze softened into something Billy knew well. Billy almost managed to plant his feet to hold back Steve’s sudden movement, but Steve was faster this time. He grabbed Billy's wrists and pinned him against the wall of their small foyer with his body. Billy could see the mischief in Steve's eyes, and it made a swarm of butterflies take flight in his stomach. He knew he would never have to fight Steve, not the way they did that one time forever ago. He was safe with Steve, he knew, so he surrendered.
“I promised to take good care of you,” Steve said huskily, his eyes roaming on Billy's face from his eyes to his mouth and back.
Billy felt his cheeks heating. “So you did,” he replied, his smile widening.
Steve drank the smile away from Billy's lips with a deep kiss that was very clear on what kind of care Steve meant.
- - -
The sun finally reaches the mattress and climbs onto Steve's pillow, grabbing him by the hair, and Billy moves his hand away from blocking its way. The bright rays tiptoe onto Steve's forehead, using the moles as stepping stones, one by one. As the world turns, the rays continue their endless march, sliding over Steve's temple and the bridge of his nose down his cheek. Finally, the rays cover his entire face as they continue spreading onto his shoulder and further, over Billy's knee and thigh.
Steve's relaxed face, now fully lit by the first morning sunlight, is exactly as beautiful as Billy thought it would be.
His heart aches, for he has to leave now if he wants to make it on time to work. But it's okay that he has to go. They'll celebrate in the evening when Steve comes home from his evening shift...
Billy is suddenly overwhelmed and tears pool in his eyes without a second warning; when Steve comes home in the evening, he comes home to him, to their home.
And that matters. More than Billy thought ever possible.
Because not only they just moved together yesterday, today is their very first anniversary.
The first time they celebrate their love lasting longer than mere months—love that began in that government facility where Steve was taken care of after Starcourt, too—it happens in a home of their own.
In a home where they're taken as they are, broken and not even close to perfect. Where always one is looking forward to the other to come home. Where there's no need for a curfew, for both of them want nothing more than to get home to be with each other.
It's a miracle they're here, really. So Billy, who usually takes nothing for granted, allows himself to take this much as written: they'll be happy here, together.
Billy leans down to place a kiss on Steve's cheek. Sun has warmed it and Billy rubs his nose in it a little, taking in a deep breath of Steve's scent. When Steve stirs from his sleep and grunts, Billy whispers, smiling, “I gotta run, babe. Happy anniversary. See you when you get home.”
- - -
Please look forward to the lovely, wonderful and amazing work from the next contributor @thatgirlwithasquid
Summary: The thought of wanting to make the first move had lingered in Steve’s mind throughout the day. He tried to think for an opening, how to present the idea without just lunging at Billy’s lips—as he would’ve wanted to do.
Read on AO3 >>
::::::::::
Steve went back to the beach after he’d taken a shower. It was a beautiful day and only early afternoon, so there was no point in staying inside. He set two deck chairs on the sand in front of the terrace and smiled as he recalled Billy’s words about his tan—or the lack of it.
Billy soon joined him, his hair wet from the shower he’d taken after Steve. “You decided to start with the tan right away,” he stated with a smirk. “Just remember to add sunscreen. What you put on earlier is now all gone with the shower.”
“Already did,” Steve replied, showing Billy the bottle of lotion he’d brought with him.
Billy turned to look at the sea at the surfers, his hand on his hips, flicking the few dry enough strands off his face the salty breeze kept playing with.
Steve rested his gaze on Billy’s jawline, the unshaven stubble, his tight surfer’s physique, the blond curls that lay between his shoulder blades. He smiled at the back of Billy’s pink tank top that had three check boxes with ‘Naughty’, ‘Nice’ and ‘I tried’ as options and the last being checked, of course. It was so Billy. The thought of him not minding getting naughty with Billy crossed Steve’s mind—and he quickly brushed it away, still not sure if it would ever even be possible.
“I could use help with my back, though. With the sunscreen, I mean,” Steve said, wanting Billy to turn his attention to him.
Billy looked at him and smiled, reaching out his hand for the bottle. “Sure.”
Steve turned his back to Billy, feeling his heartbeat quickening. The lotion was cool on his back, but Billy’s hand was warm and sure with its movements. Rubbing the lotion on his shoulders, his neck, between his shoulder blades. When he moved his hand on Steve’s lower back, he brushed Steve’s side just a little—just enough.
“Ack! Not there!” Steve squealed—like a girl—and pulled away from Billy’s immediate reach.
Billy laughed. “Ticklish?”
“You have no idea,” Steve huffed with a laugh.
“I try to stay in my lane,” Billy said, amused.
But of course he did it again on the other side.
Steve couldn’t really be angry at him, though. Because having Billy touch him like this, innocently, was the best thing ever. “Please, just don’t do that again,” he pleaded.
Suddenly, Billy’s voice was right behind his ear. “Just making sure I know your weak spots,” he said with a deep voice.
Steve could hear the grin on Billy’s face and he glanced over his shoulder, not at all surprised to see it there. “Right,” he huffed, but without conviction.
Billy smiled as he memorized the location of each beauty mark on Steve’s back and finished spreading the lotion. “Here,” he said, giving the lotion back to Steve, and lifted his legs back on his own deck chair, hiding eyes behind his sunglasses. “I try not to use my knowledge against you later.”
“I should hope so, because then I’d have to learn your weak spots,” Steve shot back playfully. And you have no idea how much I want you to do that, he thought.
The wind had picked up and surfers were tackling the waves, slicing through the water with ease. Suddenly, one of them took a dramatic tumble into the froth.
“Ooh,” Billy chuckled, pointing to the surfer. “Bet he didn’t see that backwash coming.”
“I’m so glad I’m here instead of there,” Steve said, nodding.
“Aw, come on, you weren’t that bad,” Billy replied, nudging him playfully. “You’ll get the hang of it. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Is that a promise or a threat?” Steve asked with a playful arch of his eyebrow.
“Depends entirely on your perspective,” Billy quipped.
They shared a laugh, the kind that made Billy’s chest feel lighter. It was this easy banter, the way they could volley conversation back and forth without missing a beat, that Billy cherished about their friendship. And right underneath it, the undeniable current that pulled him towards Steve.
“Well, at least there’s one thing that can be more unpredictable than the sea,” Billy ventured after a while of comfortable silence.
Steve turned his head to look at him. “What’s that?”
“Relationships,” Billy said, nodding and looking into the distance.
“Mmh,” Steve let out in agreement. He was quiet for a while before speaking again. “Speaking from experience?”
“Sort of,” Billy admitted, looking away from Steve. “Just thinking out loud. They say the best ones are built on friendship, right?”
“Suppose so,” Steve murmured, his gaze drifting back to the sea.
For a moment, Billy hesitated, wondering if he’d steered their conversation too far into the unknown. He watched a seagull swoop down, its wings skimming the surface of the water. The bird had the right idea—dive in for what you want.
“Anyway, friendships are great too,” he continued, his voice laced with a hint of something more, like a secret hidden in plain sight. They’d reconnected mere months ago, but it felt like they had been friends for far longer. Even though they’d never been friends before becoming roommates. “You know, like the one we’ve got.”
“Absolutely,” Steve agreed, his face breaking into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “We’re lucky.”
“Definitely,” Billy echoed, his heart sinking and soaring all at once. His insides were screaming for him to say what he really felt, to take a chance and see where it could lead. But his heart was caught in the web of fear, afraid of risking their perfect friendship. He was torn between two desires, unsure of which one would ultimately win out. Still, he felt he needed to keep talking, to at least release some of the churning of his mind. “Ever been so into someone you didn’t see the heartbreak coming?”
Steve turned to look at Billy, curious if he’d finally hear about the heartbreak that had forced Billy to look for a roommate in the first place. “Can’t say that I have.”
Billy fiddled with the hem of his tank top. “Like with Rob,” he elaborated. “I thought we were in it together, but he was just doing his own thing all along.”
“Rob the artist?” Steve asked gently.
“That’s the one.” Billy looked away for a while, his jaw clenching, until he quickly ran his hand over his cheek, sniffling, and turned to look back to the sea. “Gave him plenty of chances, always thinking I’d mean him more than his art. Turned out he had only one mistress and it was an empty canvas.”
Steve felt anger surging inside him. The guy had hurt Billy so badly that he was still tearing up about it. Steve wanted to have a long chat with the guy. With his fists. “Sorry, man,” he said, his voice low. “That’s rough.”
“Scared the hell out of me,” Billy admitted. “Makes you wonder if it’s worth getting back out there, you know?”
“Hey,” Steve reached out, patting Billy’s shoulder gently. “It won’t be like that next time.” If I have any say in that, he wanted to continue.
Billy smiled weakly. “Assuming anyone wants me anymore.”
“But you’ve been on dates, haven’t you? What about the…uh…Jason?”
Billy let out a half-hearted laugh. “Yeah, well…Sometimes everything is there, but the spark is missing.”
“Oh. Um, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. There are bigger fish in the sea,” Billy said, turning to look at Steve with a gaze that spoke volumes.
Steve looked away, feeling his cheeks heating.
+ + +
The evening sun dipped low, casting a golden sheen over the bungalow as Billy and Steve entered the cozy kitchen, still shedding sand from their day at the beach. Billy tossed a dishtowel to Steve, who caught it with an easy grin.
“Alright, so what’s the plan, chef?” Steve asked, leaning against the counter, his dark brown hair tousled after not bothering to blow dry it after swimming.
Billy opened the fridge and scanned the contents. “How about spaghetti? Can’t mess that up, right?” He flashed a confident smile, because pasta was, in fact, one of the few dishes he managed with ease.
“Spaghetti it is,” Steve agreed.
Billy set a pot of water on the stove and turned to find the pasta. When his eyes landed on Steve, who was looking back at him, attentive and patient, Billy’s earlier vulnerability dissolved. There was something in the way Steve had listened to him, the quiet understanding in his gaze that had stirred a warmth within Billy—a feeling both terrifying and tantalizing.
“Here,” Steve said, breaking into his thoughts as he handed over the box of spaghetti. Their fingers brushed, sending an unexpected jolt through Billy’s skin. For a moment, neither moved, suspended in the simple touch that seemed to charge the air between them.
“Thanks,” Billy murmured, taking the pasta and focusing on the task at hand.
They worked side by side, Billy manning the boiling pot while Steve chopped garlic with a concentration that was endearing. But when Billy reached for the salt, his elbow knocked over the olive oil, sending it skidding across the counter.
“Whoa!” Steve lunged to catch it, only to bump into Billy, which resulted in both of them stumbling as the bottle spun like a dancer before coming to a stop at the edge—unscathed.
“Safe!” Billy exclaimed, laughing and slamming his hand on the bottle to keep it on the counter.
“Teamwork,” Steve chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
“More like slapstick routine if you ask me,” Billy quipped, heart racing not from the save, but from the closeness that lingered between them.
Their chaotic two-chef cooking didn’t really improve after that either. Steve accidentally flung the plastic box with the chopped parsley into the air while attempting an exaggerated chef’s flip with the onions, eliciting a snort from Billy, who splashed a generous amount of the sauce onto the stove top as he stirred.
“Careful with those. They’re supposed to go into the sauce, not everywhere else,” Billy teased, watching as Steve tried to rescue the stray herbs.
“Hey, at least my cooking is entertaining,” Steve retorted, grinning.
‘Entertaining’ was an understatement. Tomato sauce ended up on Steve’s cheek, which Billy wiped away with a thumb, a silent tension crackling in the brief touch. The hilarity of their dinner preparation dissolved into a softness, a shared laughter that filled the room with more than just the aroma of their makeshift Italian feast.
“Alright, let’s see if this tastes as chaotic as cooking it was,” Billy said, finally serving them two steaming plates of spaghetti.
“Here’s to us,” Steve raised his beer, “masters of culinary disasters.”
“To us,” Billy echoed, clinking his beer against Steve’s.
+ + +
Later, the plates laid abandoned on the table, casualties of a dinner well-enjoyed, as Billy and Steve lounged on the sofa with beers.
“Man, I haven’t laughed like that in ages,” Billy said.
Steve turned to look at Billy, really look at him. Billy’s eyes reflected the soft glow of the table lamp, freckles dancing across his cheeks with his grin. Steve could drown in those blues and never regret it. “Me neither,” he replied. He brushed a hand through his hair, the humor in his expression giving way to contemplation. “You know, all this…it got me thinking.”
Billy shifted in his seat to face Steve. “About what?” he asked.
Steve looked at the beer bottle in his hand, suddenly very much interested in it. “Future stuff. Dreams, you know?” he said quietly. “Like, what do we really want out of life?”
Billy nodded thoughtfully, tugging at the hem of his shirt. “Happiness, I guess,” he replied. “The real kind, not just fleeting moments.” He paused, picking at a loose thread. “But that can be kinda scary to chase after.”
“Scary how?” Steve’s voice was gentle, inviting.
“Because what if you go after it, and it doesn’t work out?” Billy’s gaze met Steve’s, seeking an understanding he hoped to find.
“True,” Steve conceded. “But isn’t it scarier not to try?”
“Maybe,” Billy sighed, “I just don’t want to end up alone, you know?”
“Nobody does. But hey, you’ve got me,” Steve offered with a small smile. “And I’m pretty sure we’re both too charming to end up alone.”
“Charming, huh?” Billy chuckled. “I have to admit that your performance throughout the day, first on the board and now in the kitchen, were kind of endearing. I guess that could be called charming,” he continued with a smirk.
“Hey! Well, okay,” Steve said, mock-offended, “I might’ve not been on top of my game today. But isn’t it so that you always have to leave room for improvement?” he retorted with a lopsided grin.
They laughed and then fell into a comfortable silence, letting the sound of distant waves fill the space between confessions and contemplations.
The thought of wanting to make the first move had lingered in Steve’s mind throughout the day. After this talk, he felt the need to do it even more. Billy was sitting just an arm’s reach away, already facing him, and what Steve could read between the lines was that Billy probably wouldn’t mind. He tried to think for an opening, how to present the idea without just lunging at Billy’s lips—as he would’ve wanted to do.
He was just about to open his mouth when the phone rang in the kitchen and broke the vulnerable moment. They looked at each other.
Neither of them moved, and Steve hoped the caller would’ve been less insistent to reach either them, but the phone kept insistently ringing.
“It’s your turn,” Steve said.
Billy gave him the stink eye and got up, groaning. “God, I’m so full,” he muttered on the way.
Steve took a sip of his beer, feigning interest in the label of his beer bottle, but his ears pricked up, tuned to Billy’s side of the conversation.
“Oh, hey, Rob,” Billy’s voice was casual, guarded, each word measured when he answered the phone. “’s been a while,” he said cautiously. A pause and then, “Gallery opening? Saturday?”
Steve could picture the furrow in his brow, the way he’d chew the inside of his cheek when weighing his options.
“Yeah, I remember you mentioning it. I don’t know...” Billy hesitated. After a while, he sighed heavily.
Steve wanted to turn around, to read Billy’s expression, but he didn’t dare. Instead, he focused on the absurdity of his own heartbeat, racing as if he’d been caught eavesdropping on classified state secrets rather than a simple phone call.
“Everyone who’s anyone...” Billy said, a note of sarcasm threading through his tone.
Steve’s shoulders tensed at the implication; the San Diego social scene never held much appeal for Billy, with or without Rob’s self-aggrandizing presence.
“Sure. I’ll think about it.” Billy’s words were noncommittal, but they struck Steve like a gavel, final and condemning.
“Can’t wait, huh? Right.” A chuckle, but there was no humor in it—just a hollow echo of someone trying to navigate through their past attachments.
Steve turned then, under the guise of putting his bottle onto the coffee table and reaching out for the remote, but he caught a glimpse of Billy—his hair cascading around a face that battled between longing and resolve. Steve felt the unmistakable pang of jealousy, sharp and unbidden.
He knew he should feel silly, like a character in one of those cliché romantic films where hearing only half of the phone discussion would snowball into heartache. But his feelings for Billy weren’t a plot point; they were as real as the disappointment now etching itself into his chest.
“Fine,” Billy said, sounding as if he was giving in to Rob’s invitation.
Steve’s heart plummeted. The way Billy’s voice softened now, how it had done just moments ago on this very couch, too—it felt wrong. It wasn’t meant for Rob. Not anymore.
The click of the phone being placed back on its cradle seemed deafening as silence reclaimed the small bungalow.
But as Billy’s sigh reached Steve’s ears—a sound of resignation or perhaps anticipation—his resolve wavered. He knew it was stupid to eavesdrop on Billy’s call and then hope that he would just magically forget his past and already move on—to him, preferably.
It made his chest tighten—the fear that Billy might still harbor feelings for the very person who’d turned his world upside down.
“Sounds like you’ve got plans for Saturday,” Steve ventured, trying to keep his tone light, teasing even. “Fancy event, huh?”
“’s nothing,” Billy replied too quickly, brushing off the question. “Just an art thing.”
“Right, an art thing,” Steve echoed, nodding, the words tasting like vinegar on his tongue. His insides churned with unsaid confessions he now knew he should’ve said when he had the chance. “You know, you don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I mean, since he’s the one who…you know.”
“I know, I know,” Billy said shortly, carding his fingers through his hair. “Hey, um…I think I’ll turn in for the night. Dinner was good,” Billy said with a small smile and left for his room without further explanations. A moment later the door closed behind him with a louder slam than normally.
Steve was left sitting alone on the couch with the remote in his hand, his insides churning with a single question; Would Billy go back to Rob, given the chance?
+ + +
Billy crawled to his bed, burying his face in his pillow. Everything had started finally to look better and then, of course, Rob had to call, shattering the house of cards of his inner world he’d just managed to put together.
He seriously considered Steve’s suggestion of just not going.
Only if it was that easy.
It wasn’t for just a show that Billy had given Rob so many chances. Rob had been the love of his life, the one who helped him to become who he was. Rob couldn’t handle money even on a good day, leaving the heavy lifting in everything to Billy—but he always made Billy feel special, that he mattered. Even if it turned out to be a lie in the end.
And even though Billy knew he should stay away, there was the small voice inside him that insisted on what if…
Steve was still a question mark and yes, Rob had painted a lot of those artworks inspired by him. Or at least he’d said so.
“Please come, for old times’ sake, if nothing else,” Rob had said.
The mere idea of stepping foot into that gallery, a world drenched in Rob’s self-importance, left a bitter taste in his mouth. Yet, the memory of Rob’s laugh, disarmingly charming even over the phone, tugged at the corners of Billy’s resolve.
The memory of their shared history played behind his eyelids. The laughs, the joys—the artistic inspiration he’d offered Rob on many late nights in his studio…
He knew he should close that chapter in his life and move on to a new one. But curiosity and regret were a siren’s song, and he knew all too well the peril of dancing to their tune.
Yet, there they were, with the what-ifs and might-have-beens whispering in the back of his mind, as treacherous as ever.
