Harringrove One-Shots

Drunk Enough to Call You

Fluff and angst

Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 1,484

Song Recommendation: I love you - Billie Eilish

Implied sexual content and implied child abuse

________

It was the same goddamn story. The same pathetic story, god it was so pathetic I could cry. Here I was, Billy Hargrove drunk and alone on Christmas eve.

But wait, it gets worse, how?

Not only was I drunk and alone but I was also heartbroken. Now isn't that just rich? Over who? The one, the only, Steve fucking Harrington.

A dry laugh escapes my throat at the thought of that asshole. Steve Harrington with his stupid hair and stupid face and stupid smile. I feel just about as pathetic as my old man, and that was saying something.

"Merry Christmas to me and you..." I whispered as I downed the whiskey in my hand, "Now just me..."

I was almost drunk enough to call the bastard. Almost, but not quite. However, the regret and sadness was beginning to kick in.

The way I missed those hot summer nights when me and Steve were trapped in the backseat of my Camaro, bodies pressed against each other in the dead of night. Dirty whispers trapped between us, filling the car. Or even when Steve would kiss me. Soft and gentle, a smooth press of his lips against mine. The way it would make my head spin and my heart burn. The way it seemed to make me float, and fall into those stupid high school clichés. "Butterfly Kisses," is what I called them. Or those nights when we would drive and drive, letting laughter, Metallica, and the midnight breeze flow through the car. When we'd stop at the cliff overlooking Hawkins and just sit there. Leaning against the hood of my car as we did that cliché movie shit. Watching the moonlight seemingly made Steve look all the more beautiful. Whispering, "I love you," against his lips. Making plans to leave this small town. To where? That didn't matter as long as it was us, together.

That's the shit I missed, it's what I craved, but I couldn't have that.

Because I was scared, scared that I would be like my old man. Scared I'll hurt him the way he hurt my mom. So, I did the only thing I knew how to do, I broke him. I ran away from him, and I left him. Walking away like it didn't hurt to see the betrayal swimming in those brown orbs. Walking away with a lit cigarette and tears in my eyes, turning away before Steve could see either one. Listening as Steve cursed at me, then begged me to stay, then broke down. I walked away from him, and eventually, I walked away from Hawkins. Only, now the way I planned, not with Steve by my side.

I'd gotten accepted to a college in Cali, and moved back there. I screwed around with everyone I could, girls and guys. Trying to forget Steve, to forget the way I still burned to his love. For his stupid butterfly kisses.

I was home for the winter break, but god, now, I just wanted to leave again. To walk away from the hurt. I downed a few more shots of whiskey.

Now, I was definitely drunk enough to call him.

With a grunt, I pushed myself from the ragged couch I had been sulking on. Stumbling through the kitchen to get to the phone, once I reached it I hoped. I hoped for Steve, hoping he hadn't changed his number.

There was a dial tone, and my heart began to race

There was a pause, and my heart stuttered.

Then there was an answer, and my heart exploded, "Hello?"