EPILOGUE:
1994
Chicago, Illinois. 1994
„DON'T GO IN there, no!" Billy's voice dripped with sarcasm as he clasped his hands over his mouth in fake shock. Steve chuckled, cuddling up closer to his lover, reaching out to reclaim one of his hands. He intertwined their fingers and laid them down on his chest, so Billy could feel his heart beating. It was his birthday, and Billy had been kind of freaking out for about two weeks leading up to it, but Steve had reassured him that he didn't want anything special. All he wanted was to watch some movies and invite over some people he cared about, so now they were on their third horror movie that day.
„I think she's going to die," Steve added, shrugging his shoulders. He turned his head to look at Billy, placing a kiss on his soft lips, which caused them to curl up into a warm smile. He shrugged:
„Aren't you a smart one, Harringrove?" he chuckled and plastered kisses all over Steve's hair, still as glorious as it had been ten years ago. Steve couldn't help but beam at the name — it was something he came up with as a joke, but after Billy did the pretend proposal three years ago, he started to say it all of the time, so much that Steve now sometimes had to hold back as to not sign official documents with Steve Harringrove. Not to mention that Billy had replaced the Harrington/Hargrove tag on their bell. He stretched out his legs onto the coffee table.
Lo and behold, ten minutes later, the girl had died. „Oh no, who could've thought!" Billy grinned and Steve nudged an elbow into his side. „I swear horror movies are so not scary when I'm watching them with you because you always make fun of it!" He scrunched up his face, faintly hitting Billy's chest.
„You know what?" Billy ran his hand through Steve's hair, holding him close. His blue eyes sparkled and Steve's heart hurt at the sight — he felt so lucky, living his life, because who was allowed to be crazily infatuated with them same person for ten years? Steve still felt heat when he looked at Billy, as if it was a new, shiny affair, but he trusted him like a soulmate.
„What?" he cocked his head.
„You're twenty-eight! You're, like, ancient," Billy teased, wrapping both his arms around Steve tightly. „Like, we should go look for a walking cane, old man," he chuckled.
„Oh come on!" Steve hit his boyfriend's chest again. „You're a year younger, you moron." He chuckled as the end credits rolled. Steve stretched his neck to get a good luck at Billy's face. The other barely changed, at least his beautiful, freckled face didn't. The mullet and the mustache had to go at one point. It wasn't the 80s anymore, you just couldn't get away with hair that ridiculous nowadays.
„Oh, you still got dirt on your face. From yesterday, gross!" Steve exclaimed, wetting his finger with saliva before he rubbed over Billy's cheek. When the two of them came to Chicago ten years ago, they had nothing but the bags they brought from home. They didn't even have high school diplomas, and now Billy was a mechanic (much to Steve's delight — seeing the other's muscular arms sweaty and covered in motor oil did things to him that would certainly get him send to the doghouse if Mary Brown knew) and Steve was working odd jobs. Last summer he worked at an ice cream shop, and Billy was still bugging him to go back to that because he had a thing for the sailor uniform (not that he'd ever admit it though, you see), but right now he was content working at Family Video — meant he could bring home more movies for less (or no) money.
„Ugh, I was tired, okay?" Billy pulled a face. „Should we watch one more? And then we gotta clean up," he glanced at his watch, „we don't have much t—"
