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Everyone could recognize them by their uniforms: a deep blue blazer, black tie and gray trousers. The rich kids going to the only private school in Hawkins.
One might have thought that the rich people living in a shithole like Hawkins weren’t rich by other cities’ standards but Hawkins had been a hot spot for scientists around the country to experiment on a specific material found in the forest of Hawkins and so they were granted a ton of subsidies by the government.
To make it short: smart and rich scientists of the old U.S of A came to live there because the town was great for their careers.
Billy didn’t know much about science but he knew that having so many scientists in this town was good for business, his business to be precise: drugs.
Equipment was easily found, some laboratory technician trying to make more money at the end of the month by providing chemicals: yeah, business was a-booming.
Didn’t mean Billy was rich. Far from that actually. His father had brought him to Hawkins when he was looking for a job and he saw they hired en masse. So he had to make do and he had become the local drug dealer.
He didn’t have any conscience problem: he wasn’t a scumbag. Or at least, that much of a scumbag. He didn’t specialize in hard drugs: just for some privileged customers like CEOs and rich fathers who could only unwind with coke up their noses. But he sold mostly weeds and pills to the kids of Hawkins High: the private school but also the public one. He just adjusted the prices according to his clients.
There was this guy. This piece of shit who would buy him weed every week but who would always look at him with absolute contempt in his eyes. It was maddening. One look at him and his upturned nose at the very existence of Billy made him boil with rage. But he paid good money and it was regular. So he swallowed his pride and sold him whatever he wanted.
Sometimes he would buy him joints, already rolled joints, that Billy had rolled before: some of these kids even tipped him for his service. He always liked to propose those rolled joints to the guy. Billy always imagined the guy smoking the joints he had licked a few minutes earlier to seam the rolling paper. He imagined his saliva being burned and sucked and entrenched in the guy’s lungs. He wanted to tell him next time he would see him: See? You’re not so much better than me, I’m in you.
But he wasn’t a weirdo so he just glared at the guy and sold him weed.
He made the most of his money when he went to one of their parties and so he went Friday night. When he arrived in front of the house he had to laugh a little: the house was huge and seemed out of place in a rural place like Hawkins. The people who had immigrated here didn’t want to adapt to their new surroundings, the place itself had to change to fit this new population. Well, Billy couldn’t really talk. He didn’t think he would ever get used to this city. He missed California where he really came from. The sea, the sand, the surfing, the food. His mom.
He nodded at a few people when he walked to the door: regulars who would buy him something within an hour he was sure. He came in and was assaulted by the loud music and the blaring lights. He made his way to a few people, not wasting time and selling his stuff out there in the open. He wasn’t really scared to be caught: it was an open secret and there wasn’t any competition or turf war in his domain. As it was he had no enemy and people wanted to keep him around so he was fine.
He was sliding pills in the quarterback's jacket when he saw him. The guy. The side-eyeing, judgmental, rich motherfucker. He was leaning against a wall, a cigarette dangling from his mouth, a glass between his fingers. He looked disinterested by what the girl on his side was yapping on about. Billy thought his disdainful look was not reserved for him and that made him a bit jealous.
These big doe eyes finally slid toward Billy and he could see the spark being revived in them. He kept doing business around the room but he still could feel these eyes on him and he wanted to go up to him and demand what the fuck he wanted. But he didn’t do that, he just kept on trading weed and pills for money.
“Can I talk to you in private?” A girl asked him out of nowhere. She looked nervous with her eyes flitting from left to right in rapid movements. Probably her first time buying.
“Sure.” He answered gruffly and followed her upstairs.
She opened the door to one of the rooms and she started to take off her tee-shirt. Billy stopped her with a hand on her forearm. “Hey, what are you doing?”
“I haven’t received my allowance yet so I’ll let you fuck me for weed.”She said matter-of-factly and she seemed confused. “What’s the problem?”
Objectively she was hot but he could feel his head shaking. “I don’t do that.”
“Why not? You’re not better than this.” And she looked at him like he was the chewing gum on the bottom of her expensive shoes.
“I don’t need that shit.” He made to leave but the door opened before he had the chance to do it.
The guy walked in, holding his drink with the tip of his fingers and a pout on his pink mouth. “Get some self-respect Tina.”
The girl, Tina, let out an undignified noise. “Fuck you Steve.”
His name was Steve. Steve. He just laughed at the insult with the same disdain he seemed to have for everything around him. “Been there done that, let’s both move on, alright?”
“You are so insufferable, leave us alone!”
Finally Steve looked at him, his brown eyes looking up and down at his frame, stopping at the opening of his shirt. “Do you want me to leave you alone, Billy?” He asked Billy, eventually looking him in the eyes.
Billy was stuck under his stare and the fact that he knew his name and he could only shake his head negatively. Many people knew his name but still, it made him feel important that he remembered his name.
The girl huffed in frustration and left the room and slammed the door. They were left alone and Billy didn’t know what to say or do. He just looked at Steve, trying to discover more about him.
He was still wearing his school uniform like most of them were. His tie was loosened, his white shirt obviously wrinkled and his blazer a bit askew. His hair was a mess of brown curls and Billy wanted to put his fist in it and tug, hard. “You want something?” He asked while Steve walked closer to him.
“The usual, please.” He answered with a smile.
Billy scoffed and took out one of the bag of buds. He handed it to Steve. “That all?” He asked while gesturing at the door.
“No, stay.” Steve said while taking out his grinder and crushing the weed methodically. He barely glanced at Billy while he was working.
“I got work to do downstairs.”
“Stay.” He repeated, finally raising his eyes from the weed. His tone had taken an authoritative inflection, as if he wasn’t used to repeating himself, or people saying ‘no’ to him.
He raised one eyebrow. “Why?”
Steve handed him the grinder with the green powder in it. “You are so good at rolling joints. Would you do me the honor?” He shook the grinder under Billy’s nose and he reluctantly took it while grabbing rolling papers in his back pocket.
He started working on rolling the joints when he felt Steve’s eyes on him. Billy raised his eyes to look at him and Steve seemed enraptured by what he was doing. His mouth was slightly open in concentration, his eyelids hooded watching Billy’s tongue and fingers working. Pinching, rolling, licking, rolling. He repeated the actions twice and gave one of the joints to Steve. He put the second one behind his ear.
This seemed to amuse Steve. “Keeping one of them?”
“I should be rewarded for the service, shouldn’t I?”
Steve shrugged. “I have to check if it was good service. Light it up for me, would you?”
Billy was both annoyed and turned on. Which was very annoying in itself. That guy acted like he was better than everyone but particularly better than Billy and he treated him like a fucking servant. But… but those eyes and those long fingers and that red pouty mouth did things to him.
So he did light up the joint but he took the first puff. Steve didn’t try to take it back, he just watched. Billy took another puff and exhaled the smoke. He furrowed his brows in fake concentration and finally said. “Yeah, that’s good weed and impeccable rolling skills.”
“Let me have a taste, yeah?” He whispered while coming closer and Billy was stuck. He was still holding the joint between two fingers when Steve put it between his lips and inhaled the weed. Billy could feel Steve’s inspiration in the tips of his fingers, to his hand, to his arm. It felt like tingles and like Steve was actually breathing him in.
Steve did the same face Billy had done: furrowed brows in fake concentration. “Yes, that’s rather good.”
A laugh escaped Billy’s lungs abruptly. It seemed surreal, the whole situation. He imagined himself downstairs with the music and the heat of the bodies. “Can I go back to business?”
Steve smiled. “You really want to run away.” He shook his head in amusement. “Do I scare you that much?”
Billy scoffed and stepped back. “Please.”
Steve walked up and moved even closer to him.“Anyway, I thought we were doing business.”
“You got the weed and I’m still waiting for the money. Not very good business.”
Steve put his hand on his heart in exaggerated outrage.“Wow. What a way to talk to your best client!”
“My best client? Please you’re not even in my top 5.”
“Alright, maybe I don’t buy as much as others. But…” He trailed off while looking at Billy under his lashes.
Billy was hooked on his every word, his head leaning toward him. It was pathetic. “But?”
Steve smirked. “But I’m the prettiest, no?”
Billy smirked back but with less confidence. “Rather full of yourself, aren’t you?”
Steve came closer to him even though they were almost already touching. Billy’s chest was moving quickly with how fast his heart was beating and how fast his breathing was going. He felt faint all of a sudden but he could only watch as Steve’s hand landed on his torso.
His hand was halfway on his shirt and the skin of his chest and he felt goosebumps raising. His hand traveled lower while his eyes stayed in Billy’s eyes, as if to ask him ‘is this okay?’, as if to gauge if Billy really wanted it, as if to see if Billy wanted it as much as Steve did.
And he did, goddamn, he did. His dick was straining against his zipper and his hips started to involuntarily move. Steve was so close and he smelled so good even with the smell of the weed surrounding them. He was so warm and his hand left a trail of goosebumps and devastation in its way. Such a simple touch and Billy was almost reduced to nothing. He was ready to fall on his knees if Steve gave him a sign, any sign.
He was so lost looking into Steve’s eyes and counting the moles on the side of his face that he hadn’t noticed Steve’s hand wasn’t on him anymore. Steve’s hand was on his own zipper, unbuckling his own belt and putting his hand and long fingers on his own dick.
He started to move his hand in his briefs and Billy could only feel his knuckles touching, grazing, brushing ever so lightly on his dick. He was so jealous of Steve’s dick that was receiving a very nice handjob but he was also jealous of Steve’s hand that was holding Steve’s long cock.
“Let me have a taste?” Steve breathed out between raspy moans. Billy brought his hand that was still holding the joint to Steve’s lips but he shook his head. “No, you.” He clarified.
Billy could feel himself shaking and his teeth started shattering like they did in winter in Hawkins. He inhaled a few puffs and held them in his mouth and throat, feeling it burning and tingling everything inside. He opened his mouth and released the smoke in Steve’s ready and willing mouth. He felt the smoke go from his lungs to Steve’s lungs and he forgot how to breathe for a second, forgot that he had to breathe without Steve’s help.
He kept his lips on Steve’s and slowly put his tongue in Steve’s mouth. Steve took it and sucked on it with a moan.
All his body was on fire and Steve’s thigh was pushing against him and he came hard and he saw stars and his pants were wet and his head fell in Steve’s neck and he felt his whole body shake with the aftermath.
Steve’s hand was still moving on himself but it was getting faster and more irregular and his knuckles kept bumping against Billy’s spent dick and it hurt and felt so good at the same time and finally he came too with a shout, his head thrown back.
Steve moved away first, cleaning his hand on the duvet on what he supposed was Tina’s bed. He wasn’t looking at him with the usual disdain he had. No, there was curiosity now.
He grabbed a pen and wrote a number on Billy’s forearm. “My number. So we can continue doing business.” And he waltzed out of the room after stealing the joint behind Billy’s ear.