Halfway Happy// Billy Hargrove x Reader. Steve Harrington x Reader.

Part Nine

AN: let's hope this goes smoothly. there will be little to no action in this part—only a bunch of information. And angst. Call me the angst writer.

Word Count: 4k

——————

Scowling, you threw the newspaper from this week at Steve's head and he flinched back, shaking his head at you in astonishment. Throwing his hands up in the air, his eyes couldn't widen all the way—due to him just waking up—and he groans.

If he kept waking up late, the kids were going to be late for school everyday until they're freshman.

“What did I do, now?” His voice was slurred from lack of sleep and you smiled, shrugging as you picked up the new newsletter. Innocently, you turned the page, which granted you a grunt from the teen and you played with the corner of the page.

“Nothing.”

“So, you throw Wednesdays paper at me and go about your day?” With an eyebrow raised, he walked to you and sat down, plucking the paper out of your hands. “I don't believe it. What's going on?”

It was a simple question and you knew you could answer it in two ways. One, you could tell him he needs to get the kids to school at seven a.m. sharp, or two, you could pour your heart out. And the second one sounded so good right about now.

“I don't know, Steve. Back in the lab, I didn't have people to do this kind of stuff with.”

“This kind of stuff? Oh, you mean the basic human emotions, right? Caring, worrying, loving—” He huffed when you knocked your shoulder with his and he stopped, glancing at you for a moment. “Are you scared?”

He caught you off guard and you scoffed at him, leaning back towards the couch. “Of what?”

“I don't know—losing someone?” It wasn't an offensive question but you knew the answer was going to offend him so you bite your tongue and shrug. When you felt his hand on yours, you smiled and took a deep breath.

“I'm scared I'll have to kill the people I love. Again.” You whispered and stood up, his hand slipping out of yours. Crossing your arms, you stared out the window and watched the rain collect before you heard Steve stand up.

His warmth was instantly at your side and all you could do was close your eyes, begging him to not ask anymore questions. You knew that was too much to ask and you hugged yourself, worried you were going to push someone away—again—because you were scared and didn't want them to leave you, first.

“I'm sure you had a good reason—”

“No, Steve! There is never a reason good enough to why you need to kill the people you love!” You yelled, taking a step back and he knew he had said the wrong thing when you started screaming again. “I broke my mother's neck because she wouldn't listen! I stabbed my best friend because she got too close and she knew she shouldn't of, but she did. I'm not a good person, Steve. I'll never be a good person.”

“Your mother? Hopper said she was burned alive—” He stopped, eyebrows narrowed and you couldn't look at him. Even if you weren't, you could feel the fear on him and he cleared his throat.

“Burning the evidence, Harrington.” Your eyes met with his wide ones and you turned away, biting you lip. “I'm not a good person.”

————

The smell of stale cigarettes filled your nose and you found yourself craving one, swallowing hard. Looking around the house, your eyes met with dirty blonde hair and before you could get anything out—he spoke first.