"Oh, for the love of — give me the fucking key, Harrington."
Billy says it after about 30 seconds of Steve fumbling to get the spare key from under the flower pot into the lock. His hands are shaking too bad.
Steve gives the key over wordlessly.
"This too much for you, champ?" Billy asks with a teasing tone as he slips the key into the lock and swings the door open effortlessly.
Steve doesn't bother to give an answer; he just shoves past Hargrove to inside. He doesn't understand why Billy is still here.
It doesn't matter. He has more important things to think about.
Like going through the mental checklist of everything he needs so that he doesn't have to come back here ever again.
The truth is, being home is really freaking hard. His dad threw beer bottles at his head here. His dad killed himself here.
He wonders if he'll make it out of here without losing it completely.
"Okay," Steve says, running his hands through his hair. "You guys can just… wait here." He motions around the foyer. "I need to grab my car keys and a few other things."
Will nods obediently, but Billy says, "No way. I want the grand tour."
He still has a lit cigarette hanging loosely between his teeth.
"Put that out," Steve tells him harshly. His dad doesn't — didn't — allow smoking in the house. "Or get out. What are you still doing here, anyway?"
"I told you."
Steve rolls his eyes. "You're such an asshole," he returns bluntly, because it needs to be said. He turns on his heel and starts to head up the stairs to his room. He doesn't have the time or energy for Billy Hargrove.
"Here, kid," he hears Billy say. "Put this out for me."
Steve looks over his shoulder to see Billy handing his cigarette to Will, and then he's following Steve up the stairs.
Unbelievable.
Just ignore him, Steve tells himself as he opens the door to his room. Don't let him get to you.
"Holy shit, Harrington. Did a fucking tornado touchdown in here?"
Billy is referring to - of course - the piles of dirty clothes strewn all over Steve's bedroom floor.
"Yeah, I guess laundry isn't very high on the priority list when you're recovering from a concussion," Steve says dryly.
Billy grins wickedly and leans against the doorway. "Would you unclench?" he asks. "I'm just trying to make conversation."
Steve can feel his face flushed with heat out of annoyance for the cockroach at his door, just watching him. He starts picking up the essential clothes and tosses them on the bed.
"Oh, yeah, can't forget that," Billy comments sarcastically when Steve also adds the hairspray from his dresser to the pile.
Steve bumps him in the chest with his shoulder as he pushes past him to retrieve his shampoo and conditioner from the bathroom, too.
"You're such a girl, Harrington," Billy says when he returns. He's moved to Steve's bookcase and is going through the albums stored there. "Phil Collins. Really? Lionel Richie?"
The huff of air that Steve blows out is a long time coming. Billy sure knows how to test his patience.
Billy continues to yammer on about Steve's "soft" music collection while Steve gets down on all fours to reach under the bed. What he pulls out shuts Billy up real quick.
His bat of nails.
The weapon of choice that night - used by Max - to threaten Billy's manhood.
Steve thinks he actually sees Hargrove gulp.
"What the fuck do you even have that for?" Billy rasps.
"You better pray that you never find out," Steve answers. He crosses the room to his desk where his keys are laying on the surface and stuffs them in his jeans pocket. He grabs the walkie-talkie Dustin gave him, too. "I think I have everything I need," he says. "I just have to grab a duffle from my parents' closet."
God, he really doesn't want to step foot in there.
"Let me," Billy says easily and is jogging out of the room before Steve can process that he offered. "Here, princess," Billy quips when he returns. "Look alive." He chucks the duffle into Steve's hands and cackles when it almost knocks him off balance.
"Yeah, thanks a lot," Steve huffs and starts stuffing the bag full. When he zips it closed, he wastes no time in slinging the bag over his shoulder and beelining for the door. "I'm out of here."
Hargrove flips the light off and follows him down the hallway to the stairs. As they reach the top, Steve happens to glance over at the decorative table placed between his dad's office door and the bathroom. His heart almost stops when he lays eyes on the old family photo that's framed and on display there.
He feels emotion rise up in his throat as he reaches for the frame instinctively.
"Harrington, what?" Billy says from behind him.
Steve doesn't answer. He just stares at the photo. Christmas Day, 1974. He and his parents are seated in front of their Christmas tree, arms wrapped around one another, big smiles on all their faces. Steve's mom is leaned in towards his dad, eyes looking up at him lovingly. And his dad is looking down at Steve like he hung the moon.
Steve's vision starts to blur.
"Oh, shit," Billy breathes as he realizes what Steve is looking at. "Jesus."
Steve closes his eyes. He suddenly feels very hot. Overwhelmingly hot.
Vaguely, he feels a hand grip his elbow and then the picture frame is being pulled from his grasp. The duffle bag is also slipped off his shoulder.
"I gotta sit," Steve mumbles, almost frantically, over the ringing in his ears. He feels like he would fall flat on his face if not for the tight hold Billy has on him.
"Not yet," Billy says, and his voice sounds funny - distorted and gentle? "C'mon, let's get you outside." He nudges Steve forward, and says, "But you're gonna have to open your fucking eyes, man."
Steve obeys and clumsily, he and Hargrove make it down the stairs. Steve is just trying to put one foot in front of the other.
"Byers, get the door," Billy orders when they reach the bottom.
Will nods and swings the door open. Steve welcomes the cool autumn air and lets Billy deposit him on the stoop.
"Is he okay?" he hears Will ask worriedly. "Steve?"
"He's fine," Billy grits out. To Steve, he says, "Pull yourself together, Harrington. We'll get your shit and lock up."
They return back inside the house.
And everything goes quiet.