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BETH'S LETTER DIDN'T make Steve feel anything. She was writing about how much she missed him, but Steve didn't miss her. Truth to be told, he even forgot she existed, briefly. Her handwriting was neat, it always had been, but the words felt empty. He didn't even finish reading it before he stuffed it away under his pillow. Billy hadn't attended dinner. Steve sighed heavily, getting up from his bed and outside. The sun would set in about half an hour, he guessed.
It didn't take him long to find Billy. True Directions didn't have a lot of places to hide, so the only thing he could do was sit down in the grass looking over the plains surrounding them. Their usual spot. Steve slowly approached him, sitting down next to him. Billy acknowledged his presence with a quick glance, but none of them dared to say the first word.
After a while, Steve slipped his hand under Billy's, feeling his warm touch on his skin. Billy hesitated for a while, then interlocked their fingers, and from the corner of his eye, Steve could see him inspecting them for a while until he looked at Steve.
„Your parents seem okay," his voice was low, and soft. It was almost unrecognisable, compared to the Billy Hargrove who liked taking up space in people's lives. Steve mustered up a pained smile. He almost felt guilty for having parents that, while a bit clueless, were decent for the most part, knowing what Billy's dad was like.
„Yeah," he shrugged, „apart from the fact that they put me in conversion therapy, I guess you could say that." Billy's mouth twitched and it made Steve feel warm — he didn't think he'd ever grow tired of seeing the other smile. It was just something so beautiful when his restless, angry features were washed over with a careless smile beaming brighter than any star Steve had ever seen. Ugh, there they were again, the sappy thoughts. Was this what love felt like?
Billy's eyes glazed over and he turned his head to look at the sky. Something about his expression seemed lost, thoughtful. It was a new look on him, who had normally been so fierce, like a devastating forest fire, bright but dangerous.
„So you wrote poetry?" Steve couldn't help himself posing the question, as it piqued his interest when Billy's dad had briefly mentioned it before, even if he risked the other snapping at him. It took Billy a long time to answer, so long that Steve almost thought he didn't hear him, but then he eventually sighed. He reached for his pocket, pulling out a cigarette from the box, then offering Steve one, which he took. He lit both cigarettes, then took a deep pull.
„I still do," he couldn't look at Steve, his cheeks flushing red, „but don't think you'll ever get to hear any of it, Harrington," he looked up, their eyes meeting. His eyes were even paler in the warm light of the setting sun, and it made Steve's heart melt. „No matter how much you-" he stopped, scrunching up his face.
„No matter how much I mean to you?" Steve guessed, not being able to contain the smile any longer. Billy's cheeks flushed red.
„I guess!" his voice sounded annoyed, but when he looked back at Steve, his longing gaze spoke a different language, so Steve dared to make a move and kissed him. He half expected Billy to pull back, but the other leaned closer, one hand resting on Steve's cheek, carefully stroking it with his thumb as he kissed him back and Steve felt like he was in heaven.
