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Billy’s been to school dances with boys before. It’s not really Billy’s thing, but his crushes always seem to be into it, so he makes do. The fact that Steve wants to go is no surprise. That he wants to go with Billy and not as friends, is.
It’s small potatoes for Billy. They’re nearly done with high school and they’re sure as shit not staying in Hawkins long after graduation, so come what may. It is not small potatoes for Steve.
Sure, it’s 2019. Sure, more people are out than ever. Sure, gay people have more legal protection in the States than ever before. And sure, they’re almost done with high school now. Doesn’t make being the only ‘out’ person any easier.
Steve, bless his heart, was under the impression he and Billy were the only queer boys in Hawkins. Billy put him to rights real quick by listing off just how many classmates he’s fucked and been fucked by, counting out each subsequent name on his fingers. Steve stopped him after fifth.
So yeah, Steve’s pretty stressed the fuck out about the whole thing, been working himself into a state whenever they’re together, even calls Billy up at random times to panic down the phone. Billy doesn’t know why he’s doing it to himself.
“I don’t know why you’re doing this to yourself,” Billy says down the phone, cigarette in hand. “we can just go as friends. It’s fine. We can be out and loud about it when we get to college.”
“You don’t get it,”
Billy takes a drag, exhales his response. “I really don’t, no.”
“You’ve always been out in school, till you came here.”
“Yeah, and it fucking sucked for the most part. Only upside was how much easier it was to find people to have sex with.”
Steve sighs. “Just- just forget it,”
Billy leans his back against the wall, puts the cellphone on speaker and dumps it on his beside table so he can drink his coffee. “Steve, c’mon.”
“You obviously don’t care,”
“Did I say that?”
“You’re not acting like you do,”
Billy ashes his cigarette. “I’m just frustrated. It’s frustrating having you call me all the time freaking yourself out over basically nothing, you don’t have to do this. It’s just a stupid school dance.” It’s very quiet on the other end. Billy taps the screen to check if the call has cut out. It hasn’t. “Steve?”
“…I don’t want to pretend anymore, ok? I’m sick of it. All my life I’ve been pretending to be somebody I’m not for other people’s comfort, and I don’t wanna do that anymore. I want to be myself, I wanna be proud of who I am. I’ve missed out on so much already and I don’t wanna leave the place I grew up knowing I was a fucking coward when it counted. I know it’s just another stupid dance to you, but this shit means a lot to me. Sorry if that’s inconvenient for you.”
The call ends. Steve must’ve hung up. “Shit.” Billy throws back his coffee then stubs out the mostly dead Marlboro.
…
Steve’s been ignoring his texts and calls all weekend. Not the first time he’s done it. He’s been ignoring Billy at school, too. Throwing notes in the trash and hiding somewhere at lunch, sneaking out to his car at the end of the day before Billy can corner him. Billy’s not sure what to do about all that. He was a little impatient and insensitive over the phone yeah, but surely it doesn’t warrant this kind of response. Or more accurately, a total lack of response.
There’s only one person who knows how to get through to Steve, and that’s Robin. Billy doesn’t like her honestly, she’s a little faster than him, always beats him to the joke. It’s annoying. But she’s good for Steve. And she knows, so. Kind of the only person Billy can talk to about it.
Billy gets her between third and fourth period, closes her locker before she has the chance to. Robin blinks, startled, then smoothes her face back into the mask of cool disinterest she’s usually sporting. “Hargrove.” She says.
“Buckley.”
Robin readjusts her grip on the books in her arms. “Can I help you?”
“Let’s find out,” Billy scoops the books out of her arms and turns, starts walking down the hall.
“Hey!” Robin calls. Billy keeps going, kicks open the door leading outside. Billy can hear her sneakers squeaking on the linoleum trying to keep up.
Billy heads for his usual smoking spot, a little gap between the parking lot and football field, boxed in by the equipment shed and evergreen shrubs.
Robin follows him in, snatches the books out of his arms. “What the hell? I’m gonna be late for class.”
“Skip it,” Billy offers her a cigarette. Robin flicks it out of his fingers. “You can just say no, don’t need to waste a perfectly good smoke.”
“You can just talk to me at lunch, you don’t need to make me late.”
“Fair enough,” Billy lights up. “Steve’s pissed at me.”
“Uh huh,”
“He won’t talk to me,”
“Ok,”
“Winter Formal’s in two days,”
“I’m aware,”
“We were supposed to go together,”
“Alright,”
Billy groans. “Are you always this unhelpful?”
“You haven’t actually asked for my help yet,”
“I think it’s pretty obvious what I’m getting at,”
Robin shrugs dramatically, tilting her head. “I’m not getting it.”
She always does this. Makes people ask for her help in the most explicit way possible so she can rub it in later. Maybe she just saves it for Billy.
Billy takes a deep breath, blows smoke up at the sky. “I want you to help me fix it.”
“Fix what?”
“I swear to god, Buckley.”
Robin snorts. “You’re pretty easy to rile up.”
“And you’re wasting an awful lot of time fucking around considering you don’t wanna be late,”
“Oh we’re way past the acceptable window of lateness, I’m not going.” Robin surprises Billy by plucking the cigarette from between his lips and taking a deep drag, surprises him even more when she doesn’t cough or hand it back. “I just like messing with you.”
Billy taps another cigarette out of the near empty carton into his waiting hand. “Clearly.”
“Alright, so Steve’s pissed. What’d you do?”
“I don’t even know,” Robin just looks at him, eyebrows raised. “Maybe I was a little insensitive, or impatient, or whatever.”
“I can’t work with maybe,”
God, she’s annoying. Billy wants to hate her. “Steve’s been panicking like, non-stop about us going to the dance together, and I don’t know why we’re bothering when it’s scaring him so much.”
“Is that how you worded it?”
“…Not exactly.”
“Have you apologised?”
“Like, fifteen times. I’ve texted, left voicemails, passed notes. He won’t let me.”
“Damn, you fucked up bad, huh?”
“I don’t get why he’s making such a big deal out of it,”
Robin ponders, ashes the pilfered Marlboro. “Steve’s sensitive, worse when he’s nervous. You’ve gotta put on the kid gloves when he’s like that. I know it’s annoying, but it’s just what he needs.”
“Think we’re a little past that. I just need him to talk to me, I don’t know if we’re still going or if he’s dumped me.”
“Oh, you’re not dumped. You’d know if you’d been dumped. And he’d have cancelled by now if he didn’t wanna go anymore.”
Billy might be worried that Robin seems to get his boyfriend more than he does if she wasn’t such a blatant closet lesbian. Not obvious to anyone but Billy maybe, but it’s definitely there.
“So? How do I fix it?”
“Steve’s a romantic, likes grand gestures. He’s more upset than usual, so the usual apology isn’t gonna cut it. You gotta think of something a little different.”
“Like what?”
“That’s for you to figure out,” Robin crushes the cigarette beneath the toe of her shoe, turns to leave. “Good luck.” She calls over her shoulder.
…
Time’s running out. It’s too late to cancel the limo. Billy’s got his suit, even bought Steve a boutonniere as a surprise. He’s still not picking up the phone or answering texts.
Billy’s at a loss. He’s not romantic at all, doesn’t know what Steve would want or like in this department. Robin’s refused to help him anymore. I’m not in the relationship, she said. I can’t offer any more input or you won’t learn anything.
The answer comes to him about two hours before he needs to be ready to leave for the dance. El is staying for a sleepover, she and Max are watching a bunch of 80’s movies. Steve usually comes over to watch with them. Billy grabs the remote, steps in front of the tv and pauses the movie. Max throws popcorn at his head. “We were watching that!”
“What’s the movie with the boombox?”
“What?”
Billy fishes the popcorn out of his hair, eats it, Max makes a face. “The one with the rich girl and the shitty dad and the boyfriend holds up a boombox outside her window,”
Max frowns at him. “…Why are you asking this now?”
“Does it matter?”
“Can’t you just google it?”
Billy adopts a mocking tone, mimics her voice higher than it really is. “Can’t you just tell me?”
That gets him a roll of the eyes. “Say Anything.”
Billy blinks at her. “Anything.”
“No, you doofus, that’s the movie. Say Anything.”
Billy drops the remote and rushes to his bedroom. “Thanks!”
“You could’ve at least un paused the movie!”
His phone is buried somewhere in the recesses of his bag, it’s dead when Billy finally digs it out. He groans, plugs it in, boots up his laptop instead. He wikipedia’s the plot synopsis for the movie, then watches the boombox scene on youtube. Oh yeah, Billy thinks. This’ll do.
…
Billy does actually own a boombox, but he doesn’t have a cassette with the right song on it. Max has a cordless stereo but not the right CD. Billy digs through Neil and Susan’s collection to no avail.
Not the end of the world. Billy’ll just Spotify it and play it through his bluetooth speakers. Steve would’ve appreciated the authenticity, but this is the best he can do.
The limo pulls up at exactly 7. Billy’s got his hair gelled and styled flawlessly, even put on a little makeup for the occasion. Just a little eyebrow pencil, the thinnest line of eyeliner at the corners of his eyes to really make them pop, clear mascara to give his lashes an unnecessary boost.
He checks he’s got everything he needs in his messenger bag, slips a flask into his inner pocket beside his cigarettes, then heads out the door.
Jonathan Byers opens the limo door from inside the car. Billy climbs in, nods his thanks.
“Hi Billy,” Nancy says, polite as always. “You’re looking pretty dapper.”
Nancy’s wearing an off shoulder ballgown, pink lemonade bodice with a cream pleated skirt. She looks damn good. “Don’t look so bad yourself, Wheeler.”
Billy takes a swig from the flask, pulls a face at the taste, holds it out to Jonathan. “Want some?”
Jonathan shakes his head, looking serene. “I’m good, man. Smoked before I left.” Now that would’ve been an idea. Billy holds out the flask to Nancy, she says no thank you, lips pursed.
It’s a short drive to Steve’s. Nancy and Jonathan are chatting about nothing, Billy’s trying not to hit the flask too hard and let his nerves ruin the night for him by getting wasted. His knee bounces all the way.
The car stops, Nancy pulls out her phone. “It’s cold out, I’ll call him so you don’t have to knock on the door.”
Billy almost knocks the phone out of her hand. “No! No. It’s fine, I’ll go get him.”
Nancy slips the phone back into her clutch with a shrug. Billy breaths in and out, shoulders his bag and slides out of the limo. He bypasses the front door, heads out back instead. The gate is locked as usual. Billy scales it, does a little fist pump when he his shoes meet patio and nothing is ripped.
There are lights on in the house but all the curtains are drawn. Steve’s still ignoring texts. Billy queues up the song on his phone, connects it to the speaker. Turns the volume all the way down and plays to check it’s working. Once everything is set up he starts hurling pebbles at Steve’s window. It doesn’t open.
Well, shit. Nothing else for it. Billy pots the volume all the way up, holds the speaker above his head and restarts the song. Ordinary World by Duran Duran blasts into the night.
…
Tink. Steve hears the sound of stone bouncing off glass. He checks his phone, there’s three new texts from Billy. Steve doesn’t read them.
Tink. Steve huffs, looks at his tux hanging on his wardrobe door, still in the dry cleaning bag.
Tink. He rolls over, lets his bare feet thud against the wooden floor. He waits for one more stone, but it doesn’t come. Steve feels like an idiot. He’s left it too last minute, Billy’s probably already left without him.
He turns to roll back into bed, then music starts playing. It’s a little muted by the window but it’s loud. It takes him a good 20 seconds to recognise the song. Steve pulls back the curtain and opens up the window.
Lo and behold, Billy Hargrove is on Steve’s patio, speaker held aloft like he’s Lloyd Dobler and Steve is Diane Court.
Billy’s staring right up at Steve. His forehead is wrinkled, his whole body is illuminated light blue by the pool water. He looks beautiful. Steve didn’t get out of his pajamas today.
The song plays. Steve just looks at Billy, lets the thoughtfulness of the gesture wash over him, make him tear up a little. Billy reaches into his pocket and turns the music down after the chorus.
“I’m sorry,” Billy calls. “I should have realised how much doing this tonight meant to you. I shouldn’t have belittled it.”
Steve runs a hand through his hair, feels fucking giddy that his boyfriend just re-enacted a scene from his favourite movie to apologise.
“I overreacted,” Steve calls back. “I shouldn’t have ignored you. Not for this long, anyway.”
“It’s ok, you’re here now.” Billy chews on his lip, looking unsure. “Are you coming?”
Steve turns and looks at the dry cleaning bag, then his hair in the mirror, does the mental math to figure out how fast he can be ready. “Give me ten?”
“It’s Nancy Wheeler in that car, Steve. You’ve probably got closer to five before they leave without us.”
Steve crosses the room, wasting no time. He shoots a quick text to Billy to keep the music on and a bullshit excuse to Nancy to buy some time. He strips out of his sweats, bathes in deodorant and cologne before dressing as fast as possible. He has a little trouble tying the tie, figures Billy can do it for him in the car. He slips on his shoes then gets to work on his hair.
It’s a disaster from being flat on his back all day. Nothing he can’t work with. The right combination of gel, spray and last minute finger combing always does the trick. No reason today would be an exception. He switches his watch out at the last minute for something a little nicer, black leather strap instead of brown with a minimal face. Good to go.
Steve takes the stairs two at a time, grabs his keys from the hook and heads out the living room’s sliding door, locks it behind him. The song changed a little while ago, Billy’s speaker is about halfway through Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls.
“Is this first playlist you made for me?”
Billy beams at him. “Yeah.”
Steve’s phone vibrates in his hand, interrupting the music. “Nancy’s sending me angry face emoji’s, we should probably go.”
Billy holds up a finger. “Just one thing, first.” Billy kills the music, turns off the speaker and stuffs it back into the messenger bag. Billy pulls out two clear boxes containing different colored boutonnieres. “I didn’t know if you’d gotten one for me, so I grabbed two.”
Billy hands him the box containing the white one to match Billy’s suit. “Will you put it on for me?” He asks, batting his eyelashes.
It’s corny. It’s over the top. It’s exactly what Steve wanted. He nods, opens the box and secures it to Billy’s lapel. Billy reciprocates with only minor direction from Steve.
“I didn’t think you’d know how to do it,” Steve says.
“Watched a youtube video and practiced on my pillow,” Billy says.
Steve huffs a light laugh. “Of course you did.” Steve’s phone vibrates again, his screen is text after text of expressive emojis. “Alright, we really gotta go now.”
Billy heads for the gate, holds it open for Steve, then closes it behind him. Steve stops before rounding the edge of the house, holds his trembling hand out to Billy. Billy looks at him, biting his lip. “Are you sure you wanna do this?”
Like Steve hasn’t wanted to do this since the day the met. “Of course I am.”
Billy clasps Steve’s hand, gives it a little squeeze before leading them to the car.
The door opens before either of them can reach for the handle.
“What the hell has been taking so long- oh,” Nancy stops short when she catches sight of their joint hands.
“Congratulations guys,” Jonathan says, light and easy. “You look real cute together.”
Nancy shakes her head a little, like she’s trying to forget why she’s angry so she can focus on being supportive instead. “Yeah, you do.”
Steve exhales the breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding holding and climbs into the car, doesn’t let go of Billy’s hand for one second. Billy slides the door closed behind them and then they’re off. Nancy holds a hand out.
“Steve, gimme your phone so I can take a picture for you.”
He hands it over, hand still shaking a little. She doesn’t comment, just turns it sideways, tells them to smile! and takes the picture. Then another. And another. And another, each subsequent photo comes with more absurd instruction. Steve laughs the whole drive to Hawkins High.
…
Billy’s actually a little nervous. Not for himself, he’s come out more times than he can count, but for Steve. Nancy keeps him distracted for the drive but doesn’t hold Billy’s attention. Byers is busy with his phone, leaving Billy’s mind to run wild with worst case scenarios for how the night could end.
He’s not scared of a fight, Billy'll deck anyone who so much as looks at them funny tonight. He just- he doesn’t want it to be ruined for Steve. This is a fucking big moment for him, a lot could go wrong and there’s no telling what that’ll do to his self esteem. It took them so long to get to this place, what if some homophobic hick Steve’s known forever brings it all crumbling down with a cupped hand and a shouted queer! Worse, what if it’s more than one person? What if their school is one of those that isn’t conservative right up till the moment two boys rock up to the school formal holding hands and refuse to let them inside? What if, what if, what if?
The car slows to a crawl as they join the queue of people getting out and walking in. It’s set up so everyone getting out has a photo op, they’ve even rolled out a little red carpet. There’s barriers to stop parents and wandering kids from intentionally or accidentally photobombing.
Steve rubs a thumb over Billy’s index finger, talks low so Nancy and Jonathan can’t hear them. “You ok, baby? Your hand’s real sweaty.”
“Just hot,” Billy lies. Last thing Steve needs is Billy freaking out, too. Steve looks at Billy like he maybe doesn’t quite believe him but doesn’t say anything more.
Steve’s phone rings. He answers. It’s close enough Billy can hear Robin yelling into the phone from the other end.
“Where the hell are you? I elbowed my way past so many moms to get a good spot for the photo, you better show up, Harrington.”
“We’re like, fifth? In the queue. Maybe sixth.”
“You better climb out of that car with the most charming smile on your face, you don’t get a second chance with polaroid.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“‘Kay,” The call ends. Steve pockets his phone.
The line keeps moving. Steve chats with Nancy, decides to let her and Jonathan get out first. Billy watches Steve text Robin about it. He can feel his heart beating in his ears, he’s so nervous. He’s not been this scared of anything since he first came out.
Billy’s good at hiding his fear. It’s a necessary skill in his house. He can do this for Steve.
The car stops. Nancy slips out first, then Jonathan. There’s a little chorus of cheers as they link their arms together and walk in, Billy can hear Barb’s elated screams over all of them.
Steve squeezes Billy’s hand. “Ready?”
No. “Yeah, let’s do it.”
Billy holds on tight as he climbs out first, keeps his face blank, squints a little so he looks sexy instead of terrified and trying to hide it. There’s whistles of course, Billy knows he looks like a five course meal in his all white suit, three buttons undone and facial hair groomed to perfection.
There’s a slight lull in the clapping when Steve climbs out and lifts their clasped hands for everyone to see, then it starts up again more aggressively than before. There’s gasps, raised eyebrows and hands clapped to cheeks in surprise. There are no scowls, no names are called, no one turns them away from the door. Robin holds out a hand to high five Steve as he walks past, then every other mom at the barrier is holding out a hand for Steve to high five.
Steve’s smile is wide and his eyes are shining and he looks alive in a way he only does when it’s just him and Billy together. All the tension melts away when he turns that smile on Billy and mouths I love you over the racket.
Billy’s heart throbs in his chest. He licks his lips before mouthing it back.
…
It’s pretty rowdy inside, rowdier than Billy expected a school dance in Hawkins of all places to get. Maybe that’s why, though. Not like anything else is going on, kids here have to make their own fun. Prom will probably be a fucking rager.
Thankfully someone spiked all the punch. There wasn’t enough tequila in Billy’s flask to get them both anywhere near approaching drunk, but between that and the sickly punch Billy’s got a pretty good buzz going. Steve’s outright drunk, way more of a lightweight than Billy has been since sophomore year. Robin managed to sneak in and they’re dancing like idiots in the middle of the gym.
Everyone’s been downright sweet about them. Tons of girls have come up to tell them how cute they are together, Billy’s drunk enough it doesn’t annoy him the way it would if he was sober. Steve lights up a little more with every gaggle of girls whispering their approval. Tommy Hagan, asshole that he is, pulled Billy aside, clapped him on the back, said I’m happy for you bro, if you hurt ‘em though, I’ll kick your ass. Billy just laughed and said, if I hurt him I’ll kick my own ass. Carol even offered a quick mazel tov before dragging Tommy away and out of the gym, presumably to go fuck in her car.
Billy texts Steve heading out for a cig before leaving. He walks to the unofficial smokers spot, catches the smell of good pot a good ten metres before he even rounds the corner. He doesn’t expect to see Nancy and Barb of all people sparking up.
“Oh!” Barb says, clutching her chest. “You scared me.”
“My bad,” Billy says, slipping the Marlboro out from behind his ear.
Nancy clears her throat, coughs a little before holding out the joint. “You want some? I don’t think I can handle any more.”
“I’m pretty done too,” Says Barb. “Think I’m gonna head back inside, Nance. You coming?”
She shakes her head. “Wanna get some more air, first. Can you send Jonathan out if you find him?”
“Sure,”
Billy watches Barb go, then reaches for the joint, pockets the cigarette. Nancy re-lights it for him.
“Having fun?” She asks, eyes only hinting at how stoned she might be.
“More than I thought I would. Steve’s having a great time.”
“I’m glad,”
Billy leans against the wall, rests a foot against the brick. “I really appreciate what you did in the car. For Steve, I mean. He was real worked up about tonight.”
Nancy waves him off. “Oh, it was nothing. Really.”
“It wasn’t nothing. You didn’t need to do that for him, wouldn’t expect that from an ex.”
Nancy looks a little flustered as she tucks a strand of curled hair behind her ear. “Well, you know. I still care about him.” She joins him against the wall, looks up at the stars. “I could tell things weren’t quite right when we were together. He always felt more like a friend than a boyfriend. I realised he was gay when I told him I’d cheated and he wasn’t upset at all, just asked if we could still be friends.” Nancy looks away from the big dipper and back at Billy. “I’m glad he has you, now. He’s happier than I’ve ever seen him.”
Billy’s heart swells in his chest. He takes a deep drag on the joint for a plausible excuse as to why his eyes are watering.
Nancy fishes her phone out of her clutch, checks the time. “I should really go find Jonathan,” she says with a thumb jerked over her shoulder.
“Alright, see you when I see you.” Billy stubs out the dead joint against the brick, then flicks it into the nearest trash can when he’s sure it’s out. “Nancy?”
She turns, takes a few steps back towards him.
“Thank you, from both of us.” Nancy smiles at him, lips pressed together. She pats him a little awkwardly on the arm before heading back inside, heels clicking against the asphalt.
…
Billy rejoins the dance a little drunk, a little stoned, and a lot in love. Somewhere between the drugs and people actually being fucking decent for once Billy’s crazy for Steve. Things are starting to wind down a little inside, slow dance should be coming up any minute now. He makes his way onto the makeshift stage, slips the DJ a five, asks for Purple Rain by Prince. The guy shrugs and queues up the song.
Billy hops back off the stage, finds Steve stuffing his face with chips at the snack table. Billy chuckles at the sight, grabs a paper napkin and passes it to Steve.
“Oh!” Steve says. “I was looking for you.”
“Me too, they’re gonna do the slow dance next.”
Steve wipes his mouth and hands. “How’d you know?”
“Slipped the DJ something so he’d play the song I want,”
Steve blinks at him. “Wait, you wanna dance?”
“…I danced with you for like twenty minutes.”
“Yeah, to pop. You’d slow dance with me?”
Billy’s not sure why that’s a surprise for Steve. There’s nothing Billy wouldn’t do for him. He doesn’t say that, though. Just holds out his hand as some Bleachers song ends. Steve takes it, lets Billy lead him to the centre of the dance floor in time for the next song to start.
Billy gets a hand on Steve’s waist and another on his shoulder. Steve shakes his head at him, pulls Billy’s hands round his back, then wraps his own arms round Billy’s neck, lets their foreheads touch.
“Should’ve known you’d pick the longest song you could think of,”
“I can think of longer ones,”
Steve grins, Billy watches the skin at the corner of his eyes crinkle up, feels his own doing the same.
“Thank you,” Steve says, soft and thoughtful. “Tonight’s been perfect.”
“Anything for you,”
Billy closes his eyes and kisses Steve, sweet and slow, swaying to the beat.