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„CARE TO SHARE, Munson?" Billy squeezed himself into the gap between Eddie and Steve, a mischievous grin on his kissable lips. „What are you two sissies talking about, hm?" he looked over to Steve, then to Eddie. He took a cigarette, putting it in his mouth and leaning closer to Eddie for him to light it, then pulled back again without thanking him. He was so close to Steve now that the brunet could smell his cologne. It tickled in his nose, but it was pleasant. Steve bit his lower lip, his eyes still puffy from crying.
„Impressive performance there, Harrington," Billy's tone was mocking and he spotted a lopsided smile. His teeth seemed to sparkle in the sun, and his blue eyes were focused on Steve's face. „That whole breaking down crying thing really made you look like a fag," he chuckled, pushing Steve's arm.
The other looked away, at the almost comically blue sky, not a single cloud in sight. How idyllic. He shrugged his shoulders. „Doesn't matter."
Billy clicked his tongue, waving his hand. „Munson, fuck off, I want some one on one time with the pretty boy," before Eddie could protest, Billy slightly tilted his head, starting to stare him down. It didn't take longer than five seconds for Eddie to flee, leaving Steve alone to deal with Billy. He sighed.
„So," Billy scooted over to Steve even more, their arms and legs touching. His skin was soft and warm against Steve's, and he was a lot more tan. „Freckles are your weakness, hm?" he put a hand onto Steve's chin, turning his face to look at him, right into his blue eyes and the freckles decorating his sun-kissed face, an amused smile painted on his lips.
Steve bit his lower lip, trying to look away, but Billy's grip was firm and determined to not let him go. „Where are you from?" he then asked instead of just replying, tilting his head as much as Billy's hand allowed him to. „You're too tan for an Indiana summer."
Billy's expression changed; his features seemed softer, his eyes looked almost lost, but what exactly it was, Steve didn't know how to read it. „I'm from California," he let go of Steve's face but continued to look at him.
„How did someone from California end up in a conversion camp on the other side of the country?" he knitted his eyebrows, imagining Mike picking up Billy from the airport only to deliver him to the middle of nowhere.
Billy shrugged, „Out of sight, out of mind." he took another pull from his cigarette, exhaling right into Steve's face, causing him to cough uncontrollably, which in turn made Billy grin. „When I'm so far away, my dad doesn't have to think about his fag son."
Steve tried to wave the smoke away with his hand, still coughing. „So I take it your parents are strict?"
Billy laughed, but it wasn't genuine. It was cynical, it was like the last laugh of a man waiting on death row. „Yeah, I guess you could put it like that," he shrugged, „None of your business, pretty boy."
