Don't Panic - B. Hargrove

THIRTY-FOUR

Will got home three days before Christmas, making his appearance the best present of the year. David had missed him so much that he cried when Will climbed out of Hopper's car, grinning like an idiot. He was still pale, matching his big brother's skin tone a little too well, yet the doctors had declared him healed.
By the time night rolled around, it was almost like he'd never left, the three boys cramping themselves into David's bed like sardines in a can, naturally curling up against each other.
They lay awake, listening to each other's soft breathing in the darkness, occasionally feeling one of them wiggle into a more comfortable position. It was a comfortable silence, yet it wasn't the same as it used to be. Although the last damage to the house had been repaired last week, there was still some dark residue in the room, invisible but pestering the air, coating their hearts with a strange sadness. It was the first time since Bob's death that the Byers family was home together and the first time since Bob's death that David noticed his absence.
Their mother was still mourning his death, hardly leaving her room if she wasn't needed. David wondered how it felt to grieve someone. He had liked Bob, he had, but he wasn't missing his presence.
Perhaps something was wrong with him for that, but he was strangely okay with the man gone. Honestly, he hadn't given much thought to Bob's death since his mother and Jonathan had attended his funeral a few days after authorities cleared his corpse. David had spent that time with Will in the hospital, playing a card game while listening to the TV. Bereavement just wasn't his thing. His brother had needed him more than an empty shell that wasn't even Bob anymore. Will's return had stirred the sadness up, and while Joyce was most likely sobbing into the pillow beside hers right now, David didn't know how he was supposed to behave. Jonathan was different. He had been even more reserved for the last couple of weeks, spending much of his time with Nancy and leaving David to his romance he didn't know about. Strange times.

Christmas rushed by like a tinsel-covered train, throwing pine needles and wrapping paper scraps as if it was confetti while running over David with all force, knocking every bit of air out of his lungs. His um: David was exhausted in the best way possible. So when the snowball rolled around, he was shamelessly using the opportunity to lay on the couch all day, watching his family get ready and disappear without a single second of envy for their night out.

He had a good book, his favorite sweater, some crunchy snacks, and a house all to himself with no one to bother him all night. Or at least however long that stupid dance was going to last. But about an hour after his family had left, the doorbell rudely interrupted his quality time. David peeled himself off the couch, assuming one of his brothers might have forgotten something. But as he opened the door, he wasn't greeted by Will nor Jonathan but by Billy, who grinned widely as his glistening gaze took in his favorite tiny boy. Yet, David still noticed redness on his cheek, which had swollen up badly, blurring the usual sharpness of his bone structure. He had been in a fight, but according to his knuckles, he hadn't been fighting himself.
"Do you wanna stare at me all night ?" Billy asked while leaning against the frame, looking down at David.
"I thought you might tell me what happened to you, "the boy responded but stepped aside anyways.
" Nothing that matters, "Billy snarled softly as he walked by, grabbing David's hand.
The boy could just close the door before Billy pulled him closer, his gaze so intense, even David knew that his plans for the two did not include much talking. The boy was twisted at first, curious and worried about what had happened to Billy, almost certain Neil was the aggressor behind it as he was the only person Billy did not stand up to. Yet, he was still a teenage boy, and his body was very intrigued by the possibilities of Billy's intentions. They were all alone, with no one who could catch them, sharing kisses, getting rid of their clothes...

Billy was still looking down at him, waiting for a signal, a single act of consent. He lifted a hand, fingers grabbing David's chin as if wanting to help carry the weight of the decision, leaning in. Their lips met the same moment David's reservations flew out the window like the demodog had done when El attacked. Billy tasted like the gum he had chewed while driving, minty-fresh, the usual stingy cigarettes almost non-existent, which David highly appreciated.
Occupied with exploring that sensation with his tongue, eyes closed, and the little spars of bliss dancing on the inside of his lids, his fingers struggled with the buttons of Billy's shirt, so the other boy had to take over.