yeah, it's me.

drunk.

"Didn't expect to see you here Harrington."

Steve moved his eyes from the half full red solo cup in his hands to see Billy. A smug grin was making itself present in the corners of his lips, worsening his already bitter mood. He looked back down into the drink, somewhat offset by the obnoxiously pink color.

"Don't you have better things to do?" He sighed in frustration, tightening his grip on the cool plastic. Billy scoffed indignantly, leaning against the island and never removing his gaze from Steve's face. The smell of beer radiated from his clothes. "Oh God no. I'd much rather talk to this bursting ray of sunshine right here," he joked with a slight shake of his head. "Quite the party animal tonight, huh?"

He didn't bother to meet those blue eyes. Steve turned to walk away, forcing himself between a crowd of wasted teenagers while Billy called after him. After what felt like minutes of shoulder touching and awkward eye contact, he'd managed to find his way to the front door and immediately broke free. Cool air greeted him once his feet hit the damp grass. Pausing, he took a deep breath, but regretted it almost instantly. The pungent smell of beer and vomit greeted him, making him gag out of pure disgust. "Ugh," he said to himself quietly, tossing the cup onto the grass. Steve still wondered if Nancy had shown up; but he was interrupted when a voice boomed from the open door.

"The hell you leavin' for?"

Ignore it.

The sound of grass folding beneath shoes grew gradually behind him as he made his way towards the parking section of the yard, an exhale forced through his nostrils as he bumped the sides of his legs with clenched fists. 'Give me a damn break,' he thought exhasperatedly.

Steve slowly turned around with his head up to avoid confronting the approaching footsteps, gazing at the stars to pray to whatever God was out there. The short moments of dark bliss when his eyes were closed was short lived once he'd lowered his head. There he stood; his half buttoned shirt, tight jeaned glory.

Billy's shit-eating grin never faded as he stopped about five feet away. Silence drifted between them, prompting him to gesture to Steve with his hands. "Are you suddenly deaf? What's got hot-shot so tense?" A shrug met his question, causing him to scoff in either disappointment or annoyance.

"If it's Nancy, she's hanging all over the freak. Totally wasted off her ass, too-"

"I don't give a shit about her," he interrupted quickly, gritting his teeth while he forced his hands into the pockets of his jacket. Steve felt his toes curl at that condescending laugh he knew all too well.

"From that attitude it kinda sounds like you do care," Billy started, pulling a cigarette from one pocket and a lighter from the other. "I think I have a solution for your bitch problems."

"Look, whatever it is man, I really don't have time or patience right now." His ability to tolerate this curly haired mullet bastard was weakening by the second. Watching as he took a long drag, Steve started for his car again when he was stopped.

"Get drunk, Harrington. It's a lot easier to forget about it when all you can think about," he paused, motioning towards the door with the lighter, "is your next drink."

He paused and considered the offer. Steve didn't really have anything else to do once he got home, his parents were there and people will probably want to stay out late from their drunken craze. He looked at him for a moment before breaking eye contact and nodding.

"I'm sorry what was that? I couldn't hear you," Billy said snarkily, leaning in closer.

"Yeah, fine. Sure. Whatever."

Billy's face lit up immediately, taking a drag from the cigarette before throwing it on the ground and patting Steve on the back. "That's more like it!" He encouraged, not waiting for him to follow before speed walking back into the house. Glancing down, Steve couldn't help but admire the way his ass moved in those blue jeans.

Steve stepped into the wooden door frame and was bombarded by speakers. Looking around, he spotted Billy's mullet making it's way towards the kitchen hastily. He didn't bother to be polite and simply pushed people aside, ignoring the 'what the hell' and 'fuck you' comments. Eventually he met him at the spiked punch bowl, not surprised to see he'd already gotten himself a cup and was downing it with no hesitation.

Steve reluctantly grabbed a cup, filling it halfway, but was ridiculed. "Oh come on, don't be shy," Billy urged, taking the cup and drowning it in the punch. It emerged nearly filled to the brim. Looking at it, he took the cup back and began drinking quickly. The more he could avoid the disgusting taste of four different luxury vodkas the better.

"There it is," he said almost fondly, admiring how much Steve's mood had changed. "Feelin' any better yet?"

Never looking up from the almost drained red punch, he reassured himself this would help before giving a solid answer. "Yeah.. Yeah," Steve spoke softly, giving him a side smile and was pleased to see approval. Billy pat his shoulder with a firm grip, already almost stumbling from the effects of the liquor.

"Let's go find Tommy."

---

Tommy was in the basement, sunken into a worn looking futon with his eyes fixed onto the TV.