Chapter Text
March 1985
Billy always thought he’d be out of Neil’s house the second he turned eighteen.
He’d been counting down the days since he first started high school, since he understood that eighteen meant he was an adult. And being an adult meant freedom. No more arguments. No more hiding in his room. No more holding his tongue while his father completely humiliated him by calling him a fairy. A girl. A wuss. A waste of space.
Knowing he was leaving when he graduated was one of the only things keeping him going every day. It was the reason he got out of bed. The reason he put up with driving Max to school. The reason he studied hard and got good grades and was trying to get a scholarship in California for a BA in English because he secretly loved books, okay?
Being free in a few months was the reason he’d stuck around in FuckingNowhere, Indiana - and would until graduation - to continue school rather than quitting school and getting a job that didn’t require a diploma. Being back in Cali where he fucking belonged was the reason. Being on his own. And he’d never have to think about Hawkins, or Neil or Susan or Max , ever again.
But then that plan went out the window one freezing cold night in March, two days before his eighteenth birthday.
Billy had come back home to grab the condoms he’d forgotten from his drawer because he was supposed to be picking Heidi up in ten minutes for a date - to find Max sitting on the floor of the kitchen crying. Her nose was gushing blood and her eyebrow was cut deep on the right side.
What the hell had happened in the seven or so minutes he’d been gone? Neil and Susan were out for dinner, and Max had been warming up some leftover lasagna to help her power through an essay she was working on. He’d figured he’d see her in the kitchen writing, not looking like she’d just been beat up.
He glanced around the kitchen to see if some burglar had come in and hurt her while trying to steal whatever shit they had in this dump of a house, but there was no-one. Just Max on the floor surrounded by pieces of the bright blue plate her food had been on before she stuck it in the microwave.
She must have dropped it during… whatever the fuck had happened.
Billy’s mind raced. Did she fall and hit herself somehow, bashed her head against the fridge or counter? Maybe. But it seemed like someone had done this to her.
He also assumed it was a person because she was crying, and Max never cried. She was an expert at keeping her emotions in check. And the fact that she kept crying when she saw Billy standing there in the doorway made him realize how badly shaken she really was because of all people, Billy was the last person she liked being vulnerable around.
“What happened?” He asked, kneeling down in front of her. Billy avoided putting his knees down on any of the shattered porcelain pieces, and grabbed the tea towel from the stove. He handed it to her to put over her nose to stop the bleeding.
She sobbed into the towel, shoulders hunching as she mumbled something he couldn’t understand. He waited until she took a deep breath, tried again and said, “Your dad.”
Billy felt his hands ball into fists as he practically growled, “ What?”
Neil never put his hands on Max. That's the one thing his father had never stooped so low to do. Hurting a little girl.
“But they’re out. Your Mom and him.” He said, shaking his head. This didn’t make any sense. He hadn’t seen his father’s car in the driveway when he came back.
“They came home from dinner early. Neil was drunk, so my mom made them cab home.” Max continued, her voice small and fragile. “They left his car at the restaurant, and he wasn’t happy. So, he… he -” She hiccuped back into shuddering sobs and Billy fought the urge to stand up and walk right back out.
Fuck, he couldn’t handle her like this. She was tough as nails usually. Didn’t take shit from anyone, including Billy. He’d never seen her cry. It was fucking with his head.
“I hadn't tidied up from dinner. I left my plate out on the table, and when he saw it… He -”
“Where is he?” Billy interrupted, because he couldn’t listen to her shaky voice anymore. He just kept seeing red. He needed to get away from her. He was too angry, and he didn’t want to take it out on her like he always seemed to do by yelling or driving too fast.
He didn’t want to make her more upset.
“I don’t -” Max began, but then Billy suddenly heard footsteps coming down the hall. He stood back up just as Neil rounded the corner of the kitchen, nearly falling into the wall. He was hammered, Billy could tell. He took a deep breath and tried to calm the anger boiling his blood.
“Oh fuck. Of course you’re home now, too.” Neil snorted, glancing down at Max who let out a shuddering breath. The tea towel was nearly soaked through, but it seemed like her nose had mostly stopped bleeding. “Of course you see her like this. It was a fucking accident.”
Yeah right, Billy thought.
Neil walked towards the fridge - probably wanting more beer - which meant getting closer to Max, and Billy wasn’t about to let the bastard near her again.
“What did you do to her? You punch a little girl over a plate being left on the fucking table?” Billy said, putting a hand on his father’s chest to prevent him from coming closer. Neil was easy to move in this state. His usually strong and muscular, six-foot-three, a hundred and ninety-five pound frame moved as easily as a toddler’s.
“The fuck you say to me, boy?” Neil sneered.
He tried to shove Billy back but Billy pushed him first - knocking his old man back against the wall. He put a hand to his throat and squeezed, cutting off his father’s ability to speak. And to breathe.
“Billy, don’t!” Max suddenly wailed, and out of the corner of his eye he could see her put an arm up like she wanted to stop him.
“I’m not going to kill him.” He said.
“Just, leave him and help me up.” She begged, voice less full of tears than a moment ago. Thank God. He never wanted to see that again. It unsettled him more than anything in his goddamn life had so far.
“Just wait, Maxine. This’ll be fast.”
Neil struggled against him, putting up a valiant effort at breaking out of his son’s hold, but right now Billy was stronger. He fought back the urge to spit in the older man’s face as he whispered, “You listen to me now, boy.” Billy moved his mouth next to his father’s ear. “If you put your hands on that girl again, it’ll be the last thing you ever fucking do.”
And Billy had never meant anything more.
He pulled his dad forward by the collar of his shirt and then slammed his head back into the wall. Neil crumpled to the floor like a bag of onions, and was out cold completely. Billy turned to see Max trying to stand up and without hesitating, he went over to steady her.
“Maxine. Would you slow the fuck down? You could be concussed.” He said, putting his arm around her waist to take most of her weight. She sagged against him resentfully as she grabbed the counter, bare feet on the floor.
“Fuck…” she breathed in, wincing. “... right off.”
Billy couldn’t help but laugh. “There she is. My sweet little sister.”
He spared a thought to wonder where the hell Susan was as they walked slowly towards the bathroom. Eventually they got Max’s ass settled on the vanity while Billy looked her over.
It was fucking bad, and she was going to need stitches.
“Stitches?” She asked, reading his goddamn mind.
“Yep.”
“Shit.”
All of a sudden her face was against his chest, like she’d forgotten she was supposed to be holding herself up. His first thought was that she just passed the hell out. “Max? Max, hey, stay awake goddamnit.” He tried to gently pull her head away from his front to get her to open her eyes, but then she just pushed further into him - her head turned enough to the side that her nose wasn’t smushed.
“I am awake.” She said, completely serious and actually with it. Then her arms were suddenly around him like they were hugging , which - gross , and he was about to politely but firmly decline to be part of this unwanted hug-fest when he realized she was crying again.
God, he kind of wanted to die. Dying would be preferable to this because what the fuck was he supposed to do? How did he comfort a thirteen year old?
“It was a plate.” Max suddenly said, the words bursting out of her like puke.
“What?” Billy asked, and he caught his reflection in the mirror. His hands were up like he was surrendering to the cops, with a red-headed teenager clinging to his torso. “You told me this already. He got upset about the plate you didn’t put away, and -”
“He hit me with my goddamn plate.” She interrupted, another loud sob coming out from her that made Billy want to cover his ears. But he couldn’t cover his ears because he couldn’t fucking move as the weight of what she’d said punched him in the stomach.
“He -” Billy started, but he was too sick to continue speaking.
Neil could have -
He could have fucking killed her.
“He - he thought I was you.” Max said, standing up a little so she could move back to look at him. As soon as he could properly look at her, he literally felt his eyes blur with tears.
God. Her face.
“Fucking hell, Red.” He said, and he needed to take a step back. He needed to close his eyes for a minute and think. “I’m going to kill him.” He had never been this angry before in his life. He couldn’t breathe through the intensity of it.
Screw what he’d told her in the kitchen. Neil was a deadman.
“No. No. Then you’ll go to jail.”
“It would be worth it.”
“No, because then you’d be gone and I’d have no-one!” Max shrieked, her blue eyes brimming with tears.
Billy was going to pass out.
“Stop crying, Max. You gotta stop. I can’t take it.”
Because you’re even uglier when you cry.
Because I don’t wanna see that shit.
Because you gotta stop being such a wuss.
He should say that. Billy should add one of those insults to the sentence like the obnoxious, cruel big brother he was. But he couldn’t because it wasn’t true. None of it was true.
He couldn’t take Max crying because it was the saddest thing he’d ever seen. Because despite how badly they hated each other, Billy had never cared about anything or anyone more in his stupid, pathetic life.
Well, besides one other person. But that was never going to happen, and he really needed to get over it.
“Billy, I would have nobody, okay?” Max continued, ignoring what he’d asked. She was still crying, her normally pale cheeks stained bright red, eyelids puffy and blood crusting over on her bottom lip. “If you went to jail, I’d have nobody on my side. Nobody else.”
Billy scoffed at that. Max had friends. She had Susan. She literally had her mother, and mothers usually cared about their kids. Susan mostly cared, when she wasn’t pissing her pants afraid of her husband. Even if Susan only seventy percent cared about Max, it was something.
Also, Max hated Billy. Hated his fucking guts. How would him going away for twenty-five years to life be awful for her? He’d have thought it would be her dream come true. Neil and Billy Hargrove out of her life forever.
“You have Susan.” He said, looking at the floor. He couldn’t look at her anymore.
Max scoffed this time. “Do you see her anywhere? Neil hit me with the plate, she screamed and ran out the door. Haven’t seen her since.”
That bitch , Billy thought. Guess Susan’s capability to care about Max as a parent was more like thirty percent.
“So, don’t kill him. Please. Just stitch me up and keep me up in case this is a concussion.” She said, grabbing some toilet paper and wetting it from the sink. Billy watched her wipe the blood off her lips before she leaned over and spat red all over the white, clean sink.
“Gross.”
Max rolled her eyes at him in the mirror. “Get the stuff.” She demanded, flipping him off.
**
Billy got the stuff. Stitched her up. Gave her some mild pain killers. Kept her awake. Heard what was probably Susan shuffling around the kitchen near dawn. Anticipated her coming to Max’s door - to, you know, check on her daughter or something, fucking bitch - but he was kind of grateful she didn’t. He might have accidentally called her a cunt or something for choosing Neil over her own child.
As the sun rose, Max sat in her desk chair while Billy was on the floor with his back against the bed, music playing softly from her speakers. She claimed a few hours back that music - Kate Bush, fucking kill him - was the only thing keeping her awake.
Smoking his way through his brand new pack of cigarettes was keeping Billy occupied, but not preventing him from falling asleep. He didn’t need any kind of preventative measure because he had the opposite problem. He couldn’t sleep. Ever, really. He’d doze, but he mostly stared at his ceiling all night or went for a long walk. Sometimes he’d even work out in the living room as quietly as possible, go jogging or just head to the school gym early.
Billy didn’t sleep unless he was violently high. Weed was best, but he’d also conk out with some Xanax and Valium too. But he was currently out of weed, and hadn’t been able to buy the harder stuff in awhile. It had been like a week of not sleeping more than an hour or two.
It was actually good he was wide awake though, because he needed to watch out for Max. But he was ninety-percent sure she didn't have a concussion. She was going to be bruised all to hell, though.
“Why’d you call me Red?” Max asked suddenly. She put her hand out, silently asking for him to pass her the smoke he was halfway-through smoking. He frowned at her.
“You’re too young for this.”
She rolled her eyes. “Bullshit. Gimme.”
He only hesitated a second before handing it over; watched her inhale and then exhale smoothly like she’d been smoking as long as he had. He was kind of impressed.
“So?” She prompted, and Billy realized he was going to have to answer her idiotic question. He knew she hadn’t missed that.
“Dunno. Just how I think of you in my head sometimes. Maxine. Red. Loser. Bitch. Same thing.” He took the smoke back from her and flicked some ash off the tip out the window. It was fucking freezing.
“Hm.” Max nodded, looking pensive. “Guess I understand. In my head, I think of you as Billy. Asshole. Mullet-wearing prick. Also loser.”
He huffed out a laugh. “‘Kay, so you understand.”
“Yeah, but you said it so fondly. Wasn’t like you. It freaked me out.”
Shit.
“Whatever.” He said gruffly, putting out his cigarette in the overflowing ashtray he’d brought in from his room. The room reeked, his lungs burned, and he felt stupid.
Felt stupid for how actually fond he was of his step-sister.
There was a long, heavy silence that followed the end of her Kate Bush tape. Neither of them looked at each other. Billy knew he should get up and let her sleep, maybe give her some space. She probably wanted to see her friends later. Her boyfriend. They’d be the right ones to help her process this.
“Billy?”
“What?”
Max stood up from her chair a bit unsteadily, coming closer to where he sat. “I…I kind of wish we -” But then she stopped talking. He could hear her jaw clicking together, like she was biting back her words.
He waited. And waited some more, flicked his lighter on and off as he stared down at his jeans and the rest of the outfit he’d prepared for tonight. Heidi didn’t get to appreciate how good he looked, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t like her all that much anyway.
Max sat down on the bed, her leg touching his arm and shoulder.
“Spit it out, Maxine. Or I’m outta here. You should sleep.”
His sister sighed loudly, like she did when she was annoyed at him, and that made him feel better because this was familiar. Annoying each other. Hating each other. Spitting venomous words back and forth like it was going out of style to hate your step-sibling you’re forced to live with because your parents got hitched.
“Okay, I’m out. I’ll check on you later, or something. But you should be fine.”
He stood up, sensing she wanted him gone due to the not-speaking thing, but then Max surprised him. She grabbed onto his wrist. Kept him from moving. Her fingers barely made it around his thick wrist.
“I wish we’d gone to the hospital.”
Billy frowned, turning to look at her and shaking off her grip on him, annoyed. “You know we can’t. It would fuck everything up.”
“If we had gone to the hospital the doctors would see what happened and tell the cops! Then… then someone would know how awful Neil is. That he’s a horrible man.”
Billy kissed his teeth, feeling that anger return - like a hot shower scalding the back of his neck. “If anything, Neil would lie his way out of it. He’s a professional at that. And anyway, you said it yourself. He thought it was me he was hitting. He didn’t actually mean to hurt you.”
Billy tightened his jaw as he finished that last sentence, because he wasn’t a hundred percent sure of it. Neil had been drunk, sure, but Max was nearly two feet shorter than him and about a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet. Neil would have known the difference, would have very likely been able to tell it was his step-daughter in the kitchen and not his nearly adult son. And that’s what made Billy’s stomach hurt - the idea of Neil just needing to hurt someone he had power over so badly that it didn’t matter whether or not it was Billy.
“But he did!” Max cried, standing up again. “He did hurt me, Billy.” She nearly lost her balance in her stubbornness to face him, in her apparent need to look up at him like that would somehow get her point across better - whatever fucking point that was.
“Don’t move so goddamn fast!” God, his heart was going to give out on him before he got the fuck out of here.
“I’ll do what I want.” Max retorted, crossing her arms over her chest. She jutted her chin out at him like a child refusing to eat their vegetables, but he could see she was close to crying again.
Billy turned away from her and tried to take a deep breath; tried to calm down. He was too angry to talk to her right now. He needed to get out of her room.
“Billy, you think the fact that he meant to hit you with a plate somehow makes everything okay? The fact that he would do that to either of us is fucking sick! You don’t deserve it, either.”
“Shut up, Maxine.” He snarled.
“It’s the truth, Billy. You don’t deserve this either!”
He needed out of here, right the fuck now. The shrillness in her voice - the genuineness about him not deserving Neil’s abuse - was too much. It was like she was a completely different version of the Max in his head - the one who hated his guts. It was too much to process. He was too worked up.
Billy yanked the door open, walked out, and closed it behind him. He was about to head to his own room, just a door down the hall, when he heard voices from the living room.
“The car’s in the driveway. I’m taking it because it’s mine. I told you I didn’t want that bastard Hopper bringing it back home. But of course, you know best, don’t you. Fucking bitch.”
Billy rolled his eyes.
“Neil, you can’t drive like this.” Susan said, desperation clear in her tone. “You’ll get yourself killed!”
Billy heard shuffling, the sound of keys.
“Come with me then, if you’re so fucking worried.” His father said, and Billy could tell he was even more drunk than he had been earlier. Had he woken up after Billy had smashed his head into the wall, and just kept drinking?
“I need to go to work.”
“I’ll drop you off. I’m fine, Susan.” Neil slurred, clearly not fine at all. “You coming or not?”
“Why don’t I just drive?”
“Because you’re not driving my fucking car. Nobody is ever driving it again but me. Come with me now, or forget it.”
The front door opened, and Billy knew that he should probably stop them. He should take his father’s keys, he should tell Susan that Billy would drive her to work. But he was so angry at both of them. So fucking pissed that his father hurt Max, and that Susan clearly didn’t give a shit.
So he waited another minute. And then another. Heard both of them leaving, the car starting - and then he walked silently down to his own bedroom.
Neil drove drunk a lot. Even completely hammered, he could usually manage well enough. He’d never been busted for a DUI. Billy couldn’t worry about it right now.
The relief was overwhelming as he sat down on his own mattress, surrounded by his posters and things. He put his head in his hands and resisted the urge to yank some of his hair out. He’d done that as a little boy. Whenever his parents argued, he’d sit in his bedroom pulling out his hair chunks at a time. He’d gone to school with bald spots. When a teacher in fourth grade had sent a letter home asking about it, Neil had slapped Billy across the face. Called him Goldilocks - probably because he was blonde - if he saw Billy so much as touch his scalp to itch it.
“Watch it, Goldilocks! Or I’ll shave it short like a Marine.”
His hair was kind of his pride and joy now, so he didn’t want to pull it out. But it used to be something soothing. Despite it hurting like hell, it made him relax. Made his whole body focus on the pain in his scalp rather than the pain he didn’t want to feel in his heart. Nowadays he tended to relax by punching someone, or driving down a country road as fast as he could. But he wasn’t going to go pick a fight or go out driving. He had to stay here for Max in case she needed him, which usually would have annoyed him. Neil had put him into the role of babysitter pretty fast after they’d all moved in together. He was fucking sick of it. But it was different tonight.
Part of him also worried about Neil coming home and hurting Max again. Which he wouldn’t ever allow.
Billy reached over to the side of his bed and grabbed his other pack of smokes from the nightstand. Lit one up, opened the window a bit and tried to get the image of a bleeding, crying Max out of his head. His fucking teeth ached as he thought of the way she’d winced as he stitched her up.
After he’d smoked a few more cigarettes - nearly coughing up a lung because they were so mad at him and wanted out his ashy chest - he decided to just get up. He could make breakfast, tidy up a bit before Neil came home - whenever the hell that was. Billy would bet money there were still pieces of plate on the kitchen floor and Neil would likely pitch another fit if he got any cut into his foot.
An hour later, around seven, Billy sat in the kitchen watching the TV in the living room. Coffee was brewing, the smell of sausage, eggs and toast fresh in the air. He’d made enough for Max when she finally woke up. She hadn’t come out after he left so he figured she was asleep.
He chewed up his last bite of toast, poured himself a cup of coffee and was preparing to start a workout when there was a knock on the door.
Who the fuck was here this early in the morning? If it was one of Max’s lame, nerdy friends he was about to kick them in the ass, or slam the door in their face.
But it wasn’t her friends. It was Hopper.
“Uh, morning officer.” Billy said, clearing his throat. He could see his breath in the cold morning air.
Hopper inhaled deeply and then took off his hat. “Billy, I gotta come inside. Got some news.”
Billy swallowed and stood aside. “Alright.”
Hopper walked into the kitchen and Billy followed. He had a bad feeling about all of this. The chief of police didn’t just show up if everything was fine. “What happened?”
Hopper glanced down the hall. “Is your sister here?”
“Just tell me. She’s sleeping.”
“I need her to be here, too.”
Billy resisted the urge to tell him to fuck off, and stalked down the hallway to wake up Max. He knocked before he opened her door. She peered up at him as she moved the blanket away from her face and Billy involuntarily said, “ Fuck” at the sight of her.
Max’s eye was swollen shut and dark purple bruises littered the side of her face that’d been hit with the plate. She’d started to bruise overnight as they’d sat together, but maybe it had been too dark to see the full extent of it. That, or it had just recently started to bruise for real. “Shit, Max. That looks bad. Maybe we should have gone to the hospital after all.”
“Why are you waking me up?” She grumbled, still half asleep. “Just to tell me how ugly I am?”
“No, uh, Hopper is here. Says he needs to talk to us.”
She sat up so fast that Billy felt dizzy.
“Is Mom okay? What happened?”
“Dunno yet. He won’t tell me until we’re both in the kitchen, so come on.” He turned and walked out, sparing a thought as to what the hell they were going to say happened to her face. He knew Hopper would immediately be suspicious.
Ten seconds later, Max was running into the kitchen where Hopper stood, holding his ugly hat in his hands. The police chief frowned as he took in the sight of her, but didn’t get to ask about her face because Max started demanding things.
“Tell me. Tell us what’s going on. Is my mom alright?”
“Hold on a sec. Sit down.”
“I don’t want to sit down. Just tell me!” Max cried. “Is she dead?”
Hopper sighed, looked between them and then slowly nodded. “I’m afraid there’s been a car accident involving your parents. Neil and Susan didn’t…they didn’t survive the crash. It appears Neil was quite intoxicated and -”
As Hopper continued to explain, Billy suddenly felt Max against him. She was leaning into him, breathing too quickly. Her arms came around him, like she’d done in the bathroom earlier, and he knew she wanted a hug. Comfort.
Her mother was dead.
His father was dead.
And now it was just them.
Billy didn’t know how he felt. It was like his brain couldn’t quite process the reality of it. His father was dead.
But, that didn’t make any fucking sense.
Neil Hargrove couldn’t be dead. Nothing could actually kill that man. Billy had believed that his whole life. His Dad was indestructible. He got away with anything. He’d beaten up Billy’s mother for years and got away with it. He was buddies with cops and teachers in California, always got them on his side when it came to his “troubled” son Billy. He married Susan, got her to believe he was some kind of great guy. They moved here and Neil automatically fell in with all the middle-aged men who had kids in Hawkins.
He…
No, Billy thought. No way was he actually dead. The only way Billy would be free of him was when he left to go back to California.
“No, no.” Max whispered and she sounded so lost and alone and little that Billy couldn’t help but pull her into a real hug. One where he actually hugged back. And the second her face hit his chest, she started crying. Full body sobs.
“Max, you gotta calm down.” He said in her ear. She was going to give herself a massive headache if she didn’t stop.
“She - she can’t be dead.” Max sobbed, clinging to Billy like the world would end if she let go. “No, no, no.”
Billy rubbed her back. Up and down. Up and down. Minutes went by with him standing there holding her, while Hopper shifted from foot to foot anxiously. The motion of it seemed to be soothing her because after a few more minutes she started breathing slower.
“What -” Billy tried to ask, his mouth dry. “What do we do now? What…happens?”
Max hugged him tighter, like she was trying to squeeze the life out of him. Or like she was never going to let go. He thought back to her earlier words. If you went to jail, I’d have nobody on my side. Nobody else.
Did she actually mean that?
“We’ll need you both to come to the station. We got some legal things to sort out. And…Max, what happened to your face?”
Max sucked in a breath. Billy felt her do it because her face was still tucked into his chest - his shirt now completely damp with her tears. He hugged her once more - tightly - and then let her go. He took a step away from her, and tried to think how he was going to phrase this because he found that he wanted to tell Hopper the truth.
He kind of wanted him to know how awful his father was. Billy had a feeling, even in death, Neil was going to be seen as a good guy. Despite Hopper saying he knew Neil was drunk when he’d crashed the car - killing himself and Susan in the process - Billy wouldn’t be surprised if whatever funeral they held would be full of people claiming Neil was a nice, family man who was taken too soon.
And Billy really, really didn’t want that man to get away with anything else.
“Hopper, it was my -”
“An accident.” Max interrupted, wiping the tears off her wet cheeks. “I fell off my skateboard and face planted on the road. Billy stitched me up and monitored me for a concussion.”
Billy clamped his lips shut before he said anything to contradict her.
What the fuck?
Hadn’t Max been the one wanting to let people know Neil was an asshole? Wasn’t she arguing with him barely two hours ago that they should have gone to the hospital to somehow try to expose Neil?
“I’ve been telling people those damn skateboards are an accident waiting to happen.” Hopper said, shaking his head. He looked like he fully believed her and Billy seriously didn’t know what to say. So he kept saying nothing.
“I was planning to get a helmet as soon as I can.” Max assured him. “I guess I’ll go get dressed.” And then she turned and walked back towards her room.
Hopper told Billy he should do the same, and because Billy was still stunned silent - and also feeling lost as fuck - he did as he was told.
**
Billy identified his father’s and Susan’s bodies because Max said she didn’t want to look; told him she couldn’t do it. So Billy had.
After that, he signed some papers. He and Max talked to a different cop who took their statements about the timeline of events leading up to Neil and Susan leaving together that morning. Billy left out the fact that he’d heard his father and Susan talking before they’d gotten into Neil’s car - and that he’d ignored the opportunity to stop them.
He had a feeling if he ever admitted that out loud to himself or to someone else, the guilt of it might just kill him.
He was responsible. He was the reason two people were dead. But he couldn’t process that right now. He had to get Max back home.
As they left, Hopper said he’d call the schools for them and let their principals know what happened. He also said he’d come and speak to Billy about funeral arrangements and custody of Max, but right now they needed to head home and get some rest.
Like anything about this situation made Billy feel restful. He’d probably never sleep again.
“Why’d you lie about your face?” He asked, gripping the steering wheel tight as they headed back home.
Max looked out the window, silent as a statue. She hadn’t cried again since they left their house. She also hadn’t said a word since they gave their statements - and even then she’d given monosyllabic answers. She’d followed Billy around like a mute little puppy.
“Because I don’t want to leave.”
Billy frowned. “What?”
“I don’t want to leave Hawkins.”
Billy frowned, wishing he’d brought his smokes with him. “Who said anything about leaving?”
Max crossed her arms over her chest and huffed, glared at him like he was stupid. “Hopper’s probably going to be looking into my closest relatives. Back in Cali. Because I’m still underage and need someone to stay with. I don’t want to go back to California.”
Shit, Billy thought. She was right. She was only a kid. She’d need to have a legal guardian until she turned eighteen.
But what did that have to do with her face?
“Max, I -”
“I want to stay here with you, Billy. I want you to be my legal guardian. Your birthday’s tomorrow. And.. you never mentioned leaving Hawkins. Seems like you’ve made a place for yourself here, with your friends and doing basketball. People kind of worship you.”
Billy felt like there were tiny ants crawling all over his skin. He tried to take in what she’d just said, tried to slow down his rabbiting heart.
She wanted him to be her guardian? Like a father? Also, Max knew how much Billy didn’t want to leave California. It was his home. It always would be. He’d been dying to get out of Hawkins since the moment they got here.
“And I don’t want to leave my friends either. I finally have a group. I -” She paused, and he felt her staring at him. “Why do you look like you’re going to throw up?”
Because I just might, he thought.
“Max, I can’t be your - your guardian. Hell, I’m still a kid basically too. Turning eighteen doesn’t magically make you able to handle parenthood. Also, you fucking hate me! How would that work? And what the fuck does this have to do with lying to Hopper about your black eye?!”
He didn’t mean to shout. But once he started speaking, it all just came out in a burst of emotion. Too much emotion, in fact. And Billy didn’t handle emotions well. He was feeling too many things all at once and he didn’t want to deal with any of them.
“Billy, pull over.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re going too fast and you’re going to kill us.”
Billy checked how fast he was going, thinking she was wrong, but then he saw that he was pushing 70 in a 30. He took his foot off the gas, pulled over and put the car in park. He was sweating like he was on a beach in the summer.
Thankfully, Max stayed silent for a minute or two. He must look deranged right now, breathing like he’d run a mile - sweating like he’d run a mile - while also shaking with his hands hovering over the steering wheel.
“If Hopper knew what happened - it’ll look bad on you. I thought it might jeopardize us staying together in Hawkins. I… I thought telling the truth would only have done something good if our parents were still -” Her voice cut off abruptly, and he looked over to see her putting her hand across her mouth. Her eyes were wide, like she couldn’t quite believe their parents were dead.
He knew how that felt. This all felt like a bad dream, or like a bad acid trip. He wanted to wake up, or snap out of it.
“I don’t - I don’t think they’ll let me be your guardian, Max. I don’t have a job - not a steady one, anyway. And God knows what’s going to happen with the house. Neil wouldn’t have left it to me. I don’t know if either of them had life insurance.”
Max kept her hand over her mouth but he could tell her chin was wobbling, that she was about to cry again.
And Billy knew that if he saw her cry again, he’d probably die right here because his heart would likely burst in his chest.
So he put the car back in gear, checked his mirrors, and got them back on the road as he said, “But maybe they would. Maybe they’d be fine with me being your guardian, and the house will be mine and we’ll have some insurance money to live on, and I’ll get a job. I’ll do what I can to make that happen, Max. I’ll try, okay?”
There was a long silence that stretched between them. Billy was holding his breath, wondering if she’d cry again. But then he felt her reach over and punch him lightly - teasingly - in the arm. It was a new thing she’d been doing. Since the start of the year, after he’d apologized.
After… Steve helped him apologize to her.
He took it as a sign that she understood - and that they were okay.
“Alright. I believe you.” She said, and then turned the radio on for the rest of the drive home.
**
Later that night, Max was asleep in her room while Billy was sitting in the kitchen again, like earlier - trying to not drink all of Neil’s beer that was in the fridge. He didn’t really like alcohol that much, especially beer. He could chug it at parties because it was cheap and easier to get. But he preferred the buzz he got from weed.
He really wished he had some right now because he wasn’t going to be able to sleep again. He’d pass out for an hour but then wake up and never get back to it again.
The beer was tempting because he didn’t know what to fucking do to stop feeling like the literal world was ending. His mind was in a free fall. He wouldn’t be surprised to see asteroids raining down around them if he looked outside. That’s how fucked everything felt.
And he was helpless in the face of it.
Everything was different now. In the course of a single day, everything had changed. He could kiss his California dreams goodbye if he got custody of Max. He wouldn’t be able to leave Hawkins because she wanted to stay, and despite being an asshole, he wasn’t that much of an asshole to drag his sister away from somewhere she felt was home.
If he took custody of Max, everything would revolve around her until she was eighteen. That would be five more years of his life - at least - in Hawkins.
Logically, he knew he could say no. If Hopper said, yep take her, she’s yours, Billy could say no. Tell them he wanted to go to school in Cali, and get the hell out of this state and actually start his life. Neil being dead was actually a good thing for Billy. That sounded harsh but Neil was a goddamn prick.
Despite knowing that not taking Max was an option, he already knew that if he was told he could be her guardian - he’d do it.
He wouldn’t even hesitate, even though that meant putting his life on hold even longer.
“Billy?”
He jumped up from his chair and whirled towards the doorway. He wasn’t prepared to see Steve Harrington standing by his front door.
“What are you -” He started to ask, but his voice cracked embarrassingly so he cleared his throat and started over. “How did you get in here?”
Steve put his hands in his jean pockets and looked sheepish. “The door was open. I was knocking, but you didn’t answer.”
Billy huffed. “So you just walked in? The fuck, Harrington?”
Steve’s face fell at the iciness in Billy’s tone, and then Billy immediately felt like a piece of shit. He ran a hand through his hair, squared his shoulders, and sighed deeply.
“Sorry. I -” He licked his lips, staring at the floor. “It’s been a hell of a day.”
Steve walked a bit closer, going slow like he was scared he’d spook Billy into running off like some kind of deer being hunted. Billy made himself look up, despite knowing whatever Steve had come to do was going to hurt like hell.
“That’s why I came by. Hopper told me. I wanted to see if you were…alright. But I can guess the answer.”
Steve’s voice was so gentle. Soothing and tender. Billy wanted to melt into it like chocolate. He wanted to be rocked to sleep in it.
And holy mother of fuck, he needed sleep. Who the fuck had thoughts like that?
“Billy?” Steve asked again, and then Billy was being pulled into a firm chest. Steve was hugging him, wrapping his whole body up and Billy couldn’t really say no.
Steve squeezed him, and rubbed a hand up and down his back like Billy had done to Max earlier. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry you’re going through this, Billy.” He whispered the words into Billy’s ear, and then he let go.
He let go because they were friends. Steve was his friend. He thought of Billy as a friend. And that’s all it was ever going to be.
Billy knew that.
But it still hurt like absolute, white-hot hell.
“Thanks, man.” He made himself say, sniffing. He also made himself take a few steps back. Trying not to cry, or thinking too much about this, he forced himself to ask, “Want a beer?”
Steve hesitated, but then nodded after a few seconds. “Sure.”
Billy went over to the fridge. “Luckily Neil always kept multiple cases around, and he’s not here anymore to tell me not to drink a few. Might as well go crazy.”
He popped the lids off two beers, and sat at the table with Steve. “You got any smokes? I’m all out.”
Steve nodded wordlessly, reaching into his coat pocket and handing them over. Now that they were sitting across from each other - and not hugging - Billy could see that Steve looked worried. Skittish.
Maybe Harrington was the deer being hunted in the forest that was deciding how to flee.
“Thanks.” He said, lighting one up and taking a deep inhale. His lungs sounded like they were full of holes when he breathed out.
“Yeah. No - no problem.”
“Why are you acting weird?”
Steve let out what seemed like an involuntary laugh, but it didn’t sound humorous. “Uh, I guess I’m just surprised you didn’t kick me out of your house the second you saw me? I was expecting it. Or to get punched.”
Billy flinched. Steve talking about Billy punching him was not something he wanted to think about. He was already in too much inner turmoil.
Steve caught his eye, shook his head, and said, “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I wasn’t trying to bring up stuff we’ve already gotten past.”
Billy nodded, taking another long drag. “I’d never hit you, Steve. Never again.”
“I know, I know. Like I said, not what I meant.”
“So then what do you mean?”
Steve took a swig of beer, grimaced, and then set the bottle down. “I mean that you fucking ghosted me out of your life a month ago, and so I figured me turning up here to give my condolences wouldn’t exactly be welcome.”
Right.
Billy had almost forgotten in the whirlwind that had been this day.
But how could he forget the biggest mistake he’d ever made in his goddamn life?
Steve’s cheeks blushed crimson as they stared at each other. Billy stubbed out the smoke.
“I get it. I get why you’d think that. But I wasn’t mad when I saw you, just surprised.”
“Right. You looked like you were in a bit of trance. I could see you from the window.”
Billy grabbed another smoke from the pack. “Do you mind? I’m seriously out.”
“Go ahead. Or, you can roll something else I bought for you.” Steve said, grinning mischievously. Which Billy did not find absolutely adorable.
Not in the slightest.
Steve handed him a sandwich bag filled to the very top with weed. The smell of it made Billy’s body almost instantly relax.
“Oh my fucking God, you’re actually the best.” He laughed - and it was the first time he’d done so since yesterday evening before his date. The relief and giddiness and fucking love he felt in that second was almost too much.
He really didn’t want to fucking cry.
“I figured you’d need it for sleeping. Eddie gave me a discount.” Steve explained, smiling genuinely.
Billy grinned as he grabbed some papers and began rolling a joint. Of course Steve would do something like this for him. Of course Steve would pay a butt-ton of money - even with the discount - for something he knew would help Billy sleep. Because Steve knew about Billy’s insomnia and wanting to go to California and the scholarship and everything because for a few months, Steve had been his friend.
His best friend.
And then Billy had fucking ruined it by going and falling in love with the fucker.
Billy lit the joint and without asking, handed it to Steve after he took a long drag. Steve smoked some too, his cheeks still stained red and eyes just as intense as they had been when he first got here.
Billy was fucking fucked.
“Am I ever getting an explanation?”
“Harrington -”
“I think I deserve an explanation, Billy.”
Steve never used Billy’s last name. He never called him Hargrove. Billy had always loved that. Like Steve never even considered putting them at a distance from each other by using last names. That kind of thing was for people who were mere acquaintances. Strangers. Unfamiliar with each other.
Billy didn’t think they’d ever been any of those things. They’d never been strangers, even when they didn’t know each other’s names. They’d looked at each other that first time and something had clicked.
“I can’t.” Billy whispered, his head already buzzing. That heavy blanket of smoke trying to pull him up into the clouds. “I can’t, Steve.”
“That’s not fair.”
“I know.”
Steve slammed his hand down on the table. The sound echoed in the quiet house. Billy didn’t flinch. He couldn’t. If he did, he’d give himself away. And he could never do that.
“You’re a real son of a bitch.” Steve snarled, standing up after he put out the roach of the joint. Billy could tell Steve was feeling stoned already too because his eyelids were droopier than they’d been before. It was his tell.
Billy’s tell was that he got handsy, which he absolutely couldn’t do in this situation. So, he needed Harrington to go. He needed him mad like this because then - hopefully - he’d leave. Because he was right. Billy was a son of a bitch.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t do this now, not after everything you’re going through, but it’s still not fair, Billy. You’re the only real friend I’ve ever fucking had. And I know you felt the same. What did I do? I must have fucked something up real bad to make you want nothing to do with me.”
Billy immediately shook his head. Fuck. Had Steve been feeling like this the whole time? Billy had hoped he’d just be pissed - which is the only thing Steve showed whenever they were in the vicinity of each other at school. He’d never once suspected Steve felt like he was in the wrong.
“No, Steve. You didn’t do anything.”
The other boy laughed again - like he’d done before. And this time it still sounded humorless, but it also sounded like he was two seconds away from crying.
“You’re so full of shit.” Steve snapped, turning on his heel towards the door. “I gotta go before I say something really bad.”
Good, Billy thought.
He wanted Steve to go. He needed him to go. But he was also suddenly on his feet and running after Harrington, reaching for his wrist before he could get out the door.
Steve whirled around, cheeks wet, and then yanked his arm away. He looked absolutely miserable, and upset and…how many fucking times was Billy’s heart going to shatter today?
“Billy, I need to leave.”
“Wait, please. I’m sorry. Just - wait.”
Billy put his hands on Steve’s shoulders, pushing him a little until his back hit the door. He wanted to make sure he could grab Harrington if he tried to run again. But Steve was now completely still.
“This wasn’t your fault, Steve.” He said, trying to sort through the jumble of thoughts in his head so he could censor them into only the things he could actually say outloud to this man. “You were my first real friend, too. You’re a good fucking friend, too. Always there for me. Talked to me about actual shit, not stupid parties and gossip. I -”
“Then what the fuck happened?”
Billy pushed away and took a step back, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter. We just can’t be friends.”
“Right.” Steve nodded, only pretending to agree. “Right, because you’re out of here soon anyway, right? Off to California with your scholarship. Guess you’ll be gone and never have to think about this little hick town. Or the stupid hicks who are in it.”
Billy swallowed, feeling sick. He couldn’t talk anymore. Especially about that. He didn’t know if California was happening or not.
He didn’t know anything.
“Just go, Steve. I’m sorry, but that’s it. We can’t be friends.” Billy walked away from him, hoping that Steve would take the hint and just leave. He was making this harder on both of them.
But he knew Steve. Knew him like he knew himself, basically, and so he wasn’t surprised when Steve walked back into the house too.
“Billy, I’ll leave. But I want you to know something.”
Billy stopped by the kitchen table, but didn’t sit down. He just put his hands on the back of one of the chairs, and said nothing. Waited.
“I’m -” Steve began, voice breaking. “I’m here for you, okay? Your whole world changed today, and I know that’ll be hard. You’re strong - kind of the strongest person I’ve ever known - but you’re still a person.”
Billy closed his eyes. Don’t cry, don’t cry.
“So, whatever your reason is for not wanting to be my friend anymore, I still consider you my friend. So if you need something, let me fucking know. Even if it’s just driving Max around or something.”
Then Steve put his hand on Billy’s right shoulder and squeezed it. Three soft squeezes, and then the touch was gone.
Steve had been doing that since Christmas. Since they became friends. Billy never saw him do that with other people, other friends, so he had kind of been proud of the fact that Steve had something special with him. And he’d done it every day they saw each other after that - to greet him and when they went to their own cars at the end of the day or night.
It meant I got you.
See you later.
Bye for now.
It never really felt like a goodbye.
And it still didn’t now.