Suddenly now that I'm trying to post a fic, gifs won't work with me and it's driving me insane. Why is tumblr doing this I don't have time to fight tumblr today (I'm meeting a snake)
I miss the times where Steveâs rivalry with another guy wasnât driven by a love for the same girl but a weird one-sided and homoerotic obsession with no thoughts or reason except extreme envy mixed with yearning.
loveee the dynamic where steveâs like youâre a bitch youâre an asshole i hate you so so much & billyâs like yeah keep going iâm close but then as soon as steveâs all hey you deserve good things i love you so so much, billyâs like i will blow my brains out in front of you
Content warnings: homophobia, internalised homophobia, abuse, child abuse, kinda underage drinking, drug (ab)use, implied sex
Summary: Steve is confused about whether Billy loves him or not. Billy is struggling wth his internalised homophobia. Yet he finds it in himself to give into the love he has for Steve, for now at least.
A/N: I'm nervous as fuck bc I've never posted this anywhere, but I kinda like it myself, and kinda created this tumblr to post my "shitty" ass work XD
This is a song fic, inspired by the song Sunday by Hurts.
Hurts · Happiness - Deluxe Edition · Song · 2011
Sunday
There are times when we question the things we know
Never thought that the cracks will begin to show
Steve waited patiently on the phone. He was frustrated and upset, but first and foremost, he was worried. Billy had been avoiding him for a couple of weeks now, and it was driving him crazy. He knew the blonde could be a bit of a hothead or a drama queen at times, but this seemed to come on without any trigger. Like he had suddenly just decided that Steve didnât exist anymore.
âHargroveâ, a cold manâs voice answered the phone after about a minute of ringing.
âHi, is Billy there?â he asked, hopeful of finally even being able to hear the other boyâs voice.
âWhoâs this?â
âSteve. Harrington. Iâm a friend of Billyâs and sometimes give Max rides around too.â
â... No.â
And the phone was slammed down. Steve was left slightly confused, staring at the receiver in his hand, but after a while he placed it down and let out a sigh. He couldnât call, he couldnât catch him in the halls or after basketball, nor at the arcade. And he sure as hell wasnât going to sneak in through his window.
He ran his fingers through his hair and looked around his house. It was quiet, empty, well lit, but scary. The emptiness seemed to swallow everything, making the corridors look neverending. A shudder ran along his spine. The feeling of loneliness overcame him like a wave.
What had started as a sloppy drunken blowjob at Tinaâs Halloween party had evolved into something someone may have described as a relationship. Steve never thought heâd fall for those ocean blue eyes and golden curls; his looks seemed poisoned by his personality. But the antidote was getting to know one another. Letting oneâs guard down when youâre no longer perceived as a threat. As Billy grew slightly more comfortable around Steve, his assholish behavior tuned down. Sure, he still had his moments, but mostly to preserve his hetero Iâve banged every chick in this school -persona in the halls. It was sometimes almost endearing.
Ignoring Steve wasnât anything new, though. Steve had learned that when he did something that set the other boy off, or touched him in a way that was a no-go on that day, he had to endure a while of silence as Billy retreated to collect himself. It was a lot better than a fist fight to be honest. But it could get very infuriating not knowing what had set him off this time.
And Steve desperately needed to know what he had done now.
We both know love is not that easy
I wish I'd known that it would be this hard to be alone.
Please come home.
Billy could hear the silent ring of the phone over his music. He slowly got up from the bed to a seated position, wincing ever so slightly at the distant ache in his ribs, and reached out towards the stereo to lower the volume a bit. Black Sabbath could wait for a moment as he walked over to his door to open it to listen.
He couldnât hear who his father was talking to, but noting the complete change of his tone at that ânoâ and the slamming of the receiver, Billy was pretty sure it was Steve. Fuck. And just as he tried to sneak back into his room to zone out, he could hear Neil roaring his name. Double fuck.
He took a shaky breath and made his way downstairs. He could see the menacing figure in the kitchen. He straightened his posture a little and stepped in.
âYeah?â Billy asked, trying not to sound like a frightened little boy.
His father had one hand on his hips, while the other played with his mustache. His dark brows were furrowed in thought and his icy eyes pierced Billy as he walked into the kitchen. The hand playing with his mustache was soon pointing at Billy, as Neil asked:
âDid I not tell you last time to cut it with this shit?â
âYes sir.â
âSo why was the faggot trying to call you, huh? You didnât make plans with him tonight, did you?â
âNo sir.â
âSo why did he call you?â
âI-I donât know.â
Neil let out a humorless laugh.
âStop lying.â
âIâm not lying.â
All too soon Billy could feel his father grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and bashing him against the wall. Staring into the eyes that had never had any love for him in the world.
âSo why. Did. He. Call. You?â
The blonde couldnât answer. He had been trying his best to avoid Steve after the incident a couple weeks ago. If he said he didnât know, heâd get beaten up for lying. If he said that Steve was probably checking up on him because they hadnât talked in a while, heâd be beaten up for being a fag. If he made up some story about a school project they had to do together, heâd probably still get beaten up for having to be around the other boy. Every option was no option. So he didnât say anything and just kept on staring.Â
The first hit came in the form of a fist to the face. Billyâs head jerked to the side from the impact and his cheekbone was burning. After that Neil dragged his son from his hair towards the sink and smashed his face against the metal a couple times for good measure. The boyâs ears were ringing and he felt the blood dribbling from his nose as he lost his balance when his father threw him on the floor.Â
âAn ungrateful, disrespectful faggot. Thatâs what Iâve raised you to be, huh? I bet you like taking it up the ass like a princess. A filthy little fairyâ, the words were dripping out of Neilâs mouth like venom.
His boots collided with his sonâs already aching ribs. Billy let out a small yelp as he tried to raise his hands up to cover his head. Neil kicked his abdomen so many times it almost went numb.Â
âDisgusting queer.â
With a spit into Billyâs hair and one last kick to the stomach his father was finally done for now. The boy could hear his steps just barely over the ringing in his ears; they were moving towards the living room.
After cowering on the floor for about fifteen minutes, praying that Neil wouldnât decide to return for seconds, he slowly got up and crawled towards his room.
Only when the door was securely closed and the stereo was turned up again, Billy allowed himself to collapse onto the bed and scream-cry into the pillow.
Loveless nights, they seem so long
I know that I'll hold you someday.
But âtill you come back where you belong
It's just another lonely Sunday.
Steve was sitting on his bedroom floor with a half-drunk beer and a few polaroids. One was of him and Nancy, a foto reminiscent of a relationship deemed bullshit by his ex. It was bittersweet to look at, but the brunette couldnât find it in his heart to throw it away. She was now happy with someone else, and in a way, he was too.
The other two were of him and Billy. The one he was holding in his hand was of them on the hood of the Camaro, with Steve kissing the other boyâs cheek and Billy looking at the camera with a half smile and a cigarette dangling from his lips. The sun was setting and they were parked at the quarry. The orange glow of the sun had made Billyâs hair shine even more golden than it already did. The foto made Steveâs heart flutter. The good days he had with the blonde far outweighed the bad ones.
He had taken the last polaroid on the floor of the other boy the same evening. Billy had unbuttoned his red shirt all the way down, exposing his muscular upper body. He had his sunglasses on and was leaning on the side of the Camaro, looking at the camera with a smirk after asking âWant me to strip for you, princess?â He was absolutely gorgeous. After a few beers and a heated makeout session Billy had driven him home, wishing him a good night. The next couple of days, he disappeared, before turning up again with a bust lip and avoiding Steve for the remainder of the week. Apparently it was too much to call their night at the quarry a date.
It was obvious that Billy was suffering a lot internally. Steve didnât know exactly why, but he suspected that him being into men was maybe a factor. Heâd once told Steve how lucky the brunette was to be attracted to both guys and girls; implying that Billy wasnât. He wasnât exactly a master at communicating his feelings.
But the silence and avoiding had never lasted this long. Billy didnât like surprise calls, but this felt like an emergency. He wanted so desperately to talk to the other boy, however his father had implied that he wasnât home. Hopefully he was somewhere out clearing his mind with his car that he called baby and that sometimes made Steve kinda jealous.
He held onto that thought as he downed the rest of the beer and went to bed.
Is this the end of the love that had just begun?
I always hoped that the best of it was yet to come.
Billy awoke to a pounding headache, no, a complete bodyache. Groaning and hissing he carefully made his way to the mirror to assess the damage. His eyes were a bit puffy from all the crying, a pretty bruise was forming on his left cheek, there was dried blood from his nose all the way down to his chin and some pretty nasty looking bruises were also forming on his torso. He was just happy none of his ribs were broken. Bruised, yet again, but not broken. A couple of painkillers and some makeup should do the trick.
He took a trip to the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth, and then lit up a cigarette before starting to apply some foundation on his face. He glanced at the clock on his bedside table and it read 6:04 AM. Neil wouldnât wake up for one more hour. He had one more hour to get his shit together and get out. He didnât care where, he just wanted out.
Satisfied with the result of the makeup he finished his cigarette and started hunting for some clean clothes. After fumbling around with some socks and underwear, something fell from his drawer. He groaned a little while reaching down for the fallen item, only to notice it was the foto. The godforsaken image that had his father completely flipping his shit. He picked it up with a sigh.
It was a topless image of Steve. He was laying in bed while holding the camera above him so that the image revealed just enough but not too much. Gotta leave something for the imagination. His brown eyes had a sparkle of life and on his face was that goofy smile that made Billy weak in the knees ever since he had first laid eyes on this guy at Hawkings high. On the backside of the polaroid Steve had written âI had fun last night. âSâ.
Billy had found the polaroid in his locker after returning to school from being âsickâ for a few days. He absolutely adored it and slipped it discreetly in between his notebooks, before continuing to ignore Steve again. He didnât want to. But sometimes he completely freaked out or couldnât look into Steveâs eyes after a hard beating for being a fag. Ignoring him was easier than lashing out, causing a scene, possibly even hurting him. Sometimes he wished Steve would just give up and leave, so that they both could forget whatever this was between them and move on. But he didnât. Billy both loved and hated him for that.
But he had been careless with the picture. One day he had left it on his drawer before heading out to a party. And of course, Neil, being the arrogant and nosy bastard he was, had come looking for him when he was out, probably to ask him to drive Max somewhere or to punish him for not doing her chores. He had seen it; and Billy had gotten the beating of his life after returning home. Neil had been so blinded by rage that heâd forgotten to rip up the polaroid or to burn it, who knows. Billy had hidden it carefully in the midst of his underwear, somewhere he knew even Neil didnât want to stick his nose into.
The blonde took a good look at the foto, smiling at Steveâs lively expression, before hiding it in the drawer again. He picked out a pair of clean denim jeans, a black T-shirt and some clean underwear before heading out.
Please, come back, don't you leave me
Weâre both so young, I know you need me too.
And there'll always be times like these.
Steve didnât see Billy at school. It wasnât unlike him for the other boy to skip some classes here and there, but it still made him worried; especially when accounting for his latest behavior. But just as he was about to pack the books he didnât need over the weekend back into his locker he noticed a neatly folded note at the bottom. He opened it and in clean and pretty handwriting it read: âQuarry tomorrow evening at 9. Iâm sorry. âBâ.
The brunette smiled and sighed out of relief. He wasnât sure if Billy would bounce back this time or if it was over for real; and he was so happy that didnât seem to be the case this time. Although balancing on the edge of a knife constantly was frustrating and even infuriating at times, Steve was determined to make this work somehow. So far it had been worth it.
In the car he got a radio call from Dustin and the rest of the gang about a DnD campaign that night that theyâd be needing snacks for. So instead of driving home to an empty house filled with nightmares, he chose to spend his evening in the company of a couple children he had really grown fond of. The company was very welcome after a few grueling weeks of loneliness.
Loveless nights, they seem so long
I know that I'll hold you someday.
But till you come back where you belong
It's just another lonely Sunday.
âWhere have you been all day?â Billy tensed up as he heard the voice of his father from the living room after closing the front door.
âSchoolâ, he answered dryly.
âSince when does school start before seven AM and end after six PM?â
âI had some homework I needed to catch up with at the library.â
âYou need to pick up Maxine at 10. Be home no later than 10:30.â
âYes sir.â
Neil grunted in response and after not making a further fuss about the situation, Billy took a deep breath while making his way to his room. He hadnât been at school, well, beside a quick trip to Steveâs locker. He knew he couldnât concentrate on much more than the pain. Instead, he had been driving around town, buying beer and cigarettes and even scoring some weed for tomorrow. He felt like he was ready to look Steve in the eyes again without hearing the scorching slurs of his father on repeat in his head. After some weed and beer he didnât care that he was queer. Fuck Neil then.
He thought about how to kill these few hours before going to pick up Max. Working out sounded like it would just cause way too much pain. So he decided to smoke a cigarette while thinking about how heâd charm Steve the next day. He pulled out his favorite button up, the crimson red one heâd worn almost every single time at the quarry with Steve. Then he searched for the tightest pair of jeans he owned. Oh yeah, his ass looked great in those. And the dangling huge earring he sometimes wore. Perfect. He just needed to remember to paint his bruises before leaving. It was going to be dark anyways but maybe he could mask some of the pain too, as stupid as the idea sounded. He knew Steve suspected something, but donât ask; donât tell.
Remembering Steveâs foto in the drawer he also decided to gawk at it for a while. His figure was on the slimmer and a little softer side, but that was just Billyâs type. Cuddling with a board was no fun. Inhaling some smoke and closing his eyes, he imagined some day being able to wake up next to Steve while he still slept, and being able to just take in all the beauty of that man. His sharp but at the same time soft facial features, his fluffy and amazing smelling hair.Â
Billy was totally gay. And maybe in love.
Maybe we'll see that we were wrong
If ever we look back one day
But âtill you come back where you belong
It's just another lonely Sunday.
Waking up to the smell of someone actually cooking breakfast was a rare occurrence in Steveâs life. His parents were gone most of the time and even when they were at home, breakfast wasnât on their priority list. Because even if the meal was simple; the act of making someone else food, taking the time out of your day to do that, was an act of love. And Steve never had much of that growing up.
He rubbed his eyes and yawned before getting up from the sofa. He put on his jeans that were lying on the floor and made his way towards the kitchen. He saw Willâs mum, that small yet feisty redhead, by the stove making some bacon, eggs and pancakes. She was wearing a light blue robe and her hair was up on a messy bun.
âSmells amazing, Mrs. Byersâ, he said with a raspy voice.
She jumped a little at the sudden sound before turning to look at him with a warm smile and tired eyes.
âHow many times have I told you to just call me Joyce?â she asked with a small laugh.
âSorry. Can I help you with anything?â
âYou could make coffee. And set the table ready for everyone.â
He made his way to the coffee machine and started measuring the grounds.
âThanks for letting me stay the night.â
âYouâre always welcome to stay, Steveâ, Joyce said, glancing at him with the motherly love that always radiated from her. He couldnât help but smile.
After putting on the coffee machine he reached for the cupboard where the plates and mugs were and started making the table ready for them. The Byersâ house was small, but homey. It was always warm and welcoming. He loved spending time here.
âIâll go get the kidsâ, Joyce said after turning off the stove.
Steve glanced at the clock on the wall. It was a little past nine, and he couldnât wait for the evening. He knew he had to go back to the house to change and get ready, but maybe the thought of Billy smiling at him could keep his racing imagination at bay in the shower. He wouldnât get murdered by demodogs today. No, he had better things to do.
The sounds of running footsteps pulled him back into reality. He smiled at the gang who one by one wished him a good morning and got seated at the table. He got some orange juice from the fridge and helped Joyce serve the kids breakfast before pouring himself a cup of coffee and getting seated next to Mike. He was half listening to the boys going on and on about their campaign while shoveling eggs and bacon into his mouth.
âSteve, hey, are you listening?â Dustin asked grinning while waving a hand in front of him. He looked at the curly haired kid with a puzzled expression before answering with a mouthful of pancakes:
âWhat?â
âAre you going to stay for the rest of the day? The campaign ended so abruptly last night we need to continue!â
The other boys were nodding and looking at him expectantly.
âWhat do you need me for?â
âI have to go to work todayâ, Joyce said apologetically.
âArenât you guys old enough to not burn the house down while playing?â
âWhat, you got something better to do?â Lucas intervened.
âI have a date, sorry kiddos.â
âYeah right! With who?â Mike laughed.
Steve blushed a little. Suddenly everyone staring at him made him squirm in his chair.
âEh, no one youâd know anywayâ, he lied and shoved some more food into his mouth.
âAww câmon, not even a name? Itâs not Nance, right? Isnât she with Jonathan?â Dustin pleaded.
âEww, can we not talk about my sisterâ, Mike said, squirming his nose.
âNo, no itâs not her.â
âRobin?â
âDustin! Weâre just friends. Quit it.â
âAlright, kids, Iâll call Jonathan to ask if heâd be willing to look after you today. Letâs give Steve a breakâ, Joyce said and winked knowingly at him. Steve smiled back at her and mouthed a quick thank you.
âOkay, okay, but can you like, at least describe her? Like what does she look like?â Dusting kept on prying.
Steve looked into his coffee and sighed in defeat.
âWell, sheâs athletic. Her hair is curly and blonde. And her smile is really pretty.â
âIs it Mrs. Wheeler?â
Steve nearly choked on his coffee.
âDustin!â
Even Mike looked like he wanted the Earth to swallow him right then and there.
Lonely, lonely.
It was 3 PM. Billy had barely been able to sleep due to the excitement and the pain all over his body. He had popped a bunch of ibuprofen already and wouldâve killed for something stronger. But he wanted to wait for the evening to roll a joint. Heâd just gotten out of the shower and was sitting on his bed with a towel wrapped around his waist, smoking a cigarette while listening to Metallica.Â
There was a knock on his door.Â
âWhat?â he yelled, annoyed, over the music while reaching out to lower the volume a bit.
Max opened the door. Great.
âHey, can you drive me to the Byersâ house?â she asked, arms crossed over her chest while not so discreetly eyeing the bruises all over his step-brotherâs body. Her expression turned from cocky to worried. She shut the door and stepped a little closer, wary of the visibly annoyed older boy.
âShit⊠Did he do that to you?â
Billy glared at her, studying her face and body language. She seemed truly worried, so he decided to be honest.
âYeahâ, he answered coldly and inhaled some smoke to calm his racing nerves.
â... Why?â
He scoffed and looked down at the floor.
âBecause his son is a disgusting queerâ, he answered quietly, with the same disgust in his voice that his father had every time he yelled those slurs at him.
âOkayy. I still donât understand.â
Billyâs eyes shot back at her, more confused than angry. She seemed genuine.
âWhat part about being a disgusting queer donât you understand?â
Max furrowed her eyebrows.
âI mean, I just donât see why itâs such a big deal. Iâm pretty sure Will is gay and I couldnât give a flying fuck about that. As long as youâre happy.â
It was Billyâs turn to furrow his eyebrows. Max didnât have any disgust in her voice. She seemed to actually not care. It was actually kind of comforting to know that there were at least two people in his life that didnât care about his sexuality.
âYou should also hide the gay porn magazines a little bit better. Neil might see them and lose his shit again.â
Billy blushed.
âYouâve been in my room without permission, shitbird?â
âI was just looking for batteries for the walkie talkie. And mind you, I put them under your bed. So you should thank meâ, she said, her expression turning cocky again, but there was a small smile creeping on her lips.
âFuck youâ, Billy scoffed, without any anger in his voice.
âAnyway; Byersâ?â
âYeah, yeah, lemme just get dressed first.â
âCool.â
And she was gone. Billy was left stunned for a while, before quickly snapping himself out of it and starting to get ready.
Maybe his step-sister wasnât half that bad sometimes.
If you don't come back tomorrow
I'll be left here in the cold
If you don't come back tomorrow, I'll go
Steve was starting to get really anxious. The clock showed 9:13 already and Billy was nowhere to be seen. He was scared that the blonde had decided at the last minute not to come.
But his worries were almost immediately washed away as he heard the familiar roar of the Camaro. He quickly checked himself out from his carâs rear view mirror and kept on leaning against the driverâs side of the car while watching Billy pull up next to him. The metal blasting from the open windows was silenced as the other boy turned off his car and stepped out.
He looked absolutely breathtaking as always. Under his leather jacket he was wearing the red button up Steve secretly hoped to steal one day and his jeans hugged his muscular physique tighter than he ever could. He watched Billy stomp the cigarette he had been smoking and walk towards him with a smirk on his face.
âSorry for the wait, princess. Had to get another pack of reds before coming hereâ, he said.
âFor a second I thought you chickened out.â
âMe?â he laughed. âNever.â
Steve carefully steeped a little closer and leaned in to kiss him, studying whether this was allowed or not. Bily didnât push him away so he planted his lips on the other boyâs. It was a quick kiss, but the brunette could still taste the cigarette and the familiar taste of just him.
Billy looked up at him. The moonlight sparkled in his deep blue eyes.
âI missed youâ, Steve said quietly.
âI know. Iâm sorryâ, Billy replied, regret in his voice and eyes darting to the ground.
âDo you want to talk about it? Did I do something that upset you?â
âMaybe later. And donât you worry, pretty boy. This time it was just me and my fucked up self.â
The brunette lifted his chin in order to be able to look him in the eyes again.Â
âI really wish youâd stop doing this. For your sake and mineâ, Steve sighed when Billyâs eyes met his again. He caressed the blondeâs cheek carefully. The other boy leaned into his touch.
âI brought weed. And beerâ, he replied, a smirk lighting up his face. The brunette chuckled and let the blonde turn around to grab a few beers from the backseat of the Camaro. He cracked both of them open and handed the other to Steve, before gesturing for him to follow the other boy to the hood of the car.
They drank their first beers in silence, looking at the stars and the moon. Steve intertwined their fingers at some point and Billy let him. Gosh, he had missed this.
Loveless nights, they seem so long
I know that I'll hold you someday.
But âtill you come back where you belong
It's just another lonely Sunday.
Billy fumbled a little while rolling the joint. They had drunk three beers each already and despite the chilly wind, he was feeling warm. They hadnât talked much, beside pointing out a few constellations to each other, but it was still perfect in his opinion. The most important part to him was that he got to spend time with Steve.
After finishing rolling up the blunt he put it in between his lips and lit it up. He took a long drag, inhaled, held his breath in for a few seconds before blowing out the smoke, savoring its bittersweet taste on his tongue. Then he handed the weed to the other boy. He watched as Steve did the same, although he had a coughing fit while blowing out the smoke. Billy snickered.
âNot much of a smoker, huh?â he teased, licking his lips.
âNah, not reallyâ, the brunette replied in between coughs and handed the joint back to Billy. He took another drag, enjoying the relaxed feeling slowly making its way all across his body. Then he turned to look at Steve, his expression getting a little bit more serious.
âI did mean it when I said Iâm sorry. I donât want to avoid you but sometimesâŠâ he paused to think of the right words to say. The brunette looked at him attentively, slightly tilting his head while he listened.
âSometimes I just completely freak out. And itâs not your fault, it has never been your fault. Itâs me. Iâm a messâ, he blurted out, sighing and turning to look at the ground. âI guess what Iâm trying to say is⊠That Iâm scared. Of thisâ, he finished, gesturing vaguely at the space between them.
âWhy are you so scared?â Steve asked with a calm voice, placing his hand on Billyâs thigh.
âBecause itâs wrongâ, he said, quietly. âI shouldnât like you this much, itâs wrong and disgusting.â
He took another drag of the joint, feeling the brunette take his hand off of his thing. He handed the blunt to Steve, not daring to look at him.
âOhâ, the other boy replied, hurt in his voice. It gnawed on Billyâs heart.
Silence landed in between them again, this time heavy and bothersome. They passed the joint to each other, thinking about what to say next.
When the blunt was all smoked, Billy threw the butt over the edge of the cliff, frustration and anger building inside of him. He bit his tongue and closed his eyes.
âWhy do you think itâs wrong and disgusting?â he heard Steve ask quietly.
The blonde took a deep breath, thinking. Why did he? Max didnât see the big deal, Steve seemed to be fine with himself. So why was he so disgusted by himself? He had tried suppressing it, tried ignoring it, tried fucking every woman under the sun. Yet he still couldnât get rid of it. Hell, not even Neil could beat it out of him. It was impossible. Like trying to change oneâs eye color. But having a different eye color than everyone else wasnât wrong or disgusting.
âI-I donât know.â
â... Did someone tell you it was?â
âMy dadâ, he sighed.
âBillyâŠâ he heard Steve say, a little less hurt now. He felt the other boy inching closer, grabbing his hand. âHe may think that, and fuck him for that. But liking the same gender⊠Itâs not something you can change. You can change a lot about what you are, what you do and what you look like. No matter how much I tried to ignore or change it when I was younger, I couldnât. I liked men. I still do. And I like you. A lot. How can something that feels as right and beautiful as love be wrong and disgusting?â
Billy could feel his eyes burning. Steve was right, he knew he was right. He hated how much he hated himself. He hated his father for teaching him to hate himself. He looked up at the sky, feeling a few tears escaping from the corners of his eyes.
âI donât knowâ, he whispered, swallowing the need to scream out of years of built up anger and hatred. He felt Steve slowly wrapping his arms around him.
âI donât want to feel this way, Steve. I want to be happy. I really do. But itâs hard. Why is it so fucking hard?â he asked, voice breaking as he began to sob quietly.
Maybe we'll see that we were wrong
If ever we look back one day
But âtill you come back where you belong
It's just another lonely Sunday.
After Billy stopped crying they moved to the back seat of the Camaro. A few more beers down and they were making out. Steve was on Billyâs lap, his hands buried in the golden curls of the other boy. The blonde's hands were caressing Steveâs back under his shirt.
âSteveâ, Billy mumbled against his lips. He pulled back a little bit to look into the ocean blue eyes of the boy beneath him. He smiled softly at him, asking:
âYeah?â
âI really liked the polaroid you gave meâ, the blonde said with a smirk on his face. Steve chuckled.
âIâm glad you didâ, he answered.
âCan you send me more?â
âSure.â
Billyâs hands wandered a little lower to squeeze his ass.
âYouâre hotâ, he murmured, licking his lips.
âYouâre hotterâ, Steve replied, pressing his forehead against Billyâs.
âYeah?â
âYeah.â
He pressed his lips against Billyâs again, starting to grind his hips slowly on the otherâs lap. The blonde sighed, letting his tongue wander into Steveâs mouth. His hands were still caressing the brunetteâs ass. Steve let his hands slide onto Billyâs chest, slipping them under his already unbuttoned shirt. The blondeâs nipples were hard, probably from the cold, and his abs felt even better than they looked.
Steve could feel the bulge growing in his own pants and in the jeans of the other boy. His hands wandered to the fly of Billyâs jeans and he could feel the blonde undoing his belt as well.
âYou wanna?â he heard Billy mumble against his lips.
âFuck yeahâ, he mumbled back and felt the grin growing on the other boyâs lips.
Lonely, lonely.
He was late for his curfew but Billy didnât give a fuck. All he could think about on the ride back home was Steve moaning his name as he fucked him on the backseat of the Camaro. Fuck Neil, fuck the voices screaming slurs at him in his head. He was elated, maybe from the booze, maybe from the weed, or maybe he was just completely drunk on Steve.
The watch on his wrist read a little past four AM as he pulled into the front yard of the hellhole he refused to call home. The lights were out, everyone was already asleep. Billy lit up a cigarette. He wanted to enjoy the happiness just a little longer. The nicotine traveled around his body, making him just a bit more drunk on the feeling.
He thought about what Steve had said. About how a feeling as pure and innocent and beautiful as love could be wrong or disgusting. He still didnât know. All he knew growing up was hate, rage, longing and pain. They were his normal. Maybe thatâs why he was so scared of love. Maybe he was just scared of losing the happiness he felt with Steve. Or maybe the feeling itself was scary. Because it wasnât normal. It wasnât his normal. Maybe he was just scared to be happy, scared to love. Because deep down, he felt like he didnât deserve it.
Billy stepped out of his car. He threw the butt of the cigarette down and stomped it. He slammed the door of the Camaro shut, and locked it. The night sky above him was filled with stars, filled with memories. He glanced at the moon and smiled at the image of Steve in the moonlight. Of his mum in the moonlight. Out of instinct, he grabbed the necklace he always wore. A faint reminder of the days when he wasnât always angry, always scared.
As he walked to the front door of the dark house, he wondered how his mum wouldâve felt if he introduced her to Steve. The love in her eyes when she looked at Billy. The worry she always showed when he went too far into the waves. She was so happy when Billy was happy. She wouldâve loved Steve. She wouldâve loved him regardless. She wouldâve murdered Steve if he ever broke the heart of her precious little boy. The thought made Billy smile. His mum wouldâve loved him regardless.
He fumbled with the keys a little before finally managing to open the door. The house was so cold. So void of any warmth. So void of any love for him. He shuddered. It made him angry again.
In a drunken haste, he made his way to the kitchen. He grabbed a pen, and pulled a polaroid out of the back pocket of his jeans. He flipped the polaroid over, and wrote on the back: Mum wouldâve loved me regardless. Then he turned it over again, left it on the table, and made his way to his room. His cold and empty room.
On the kitchen table lay a picture of Billy and Steve, kissing one another under the moonlight. Showing just how much someone can love someone else regardless of gender. Bringing love into a home where the word love meant nothing.
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