Chapter Text
Being the typical Tuesday, Eddie fakes a twisted ankle in gym class. Sitting on the bleachers as a sweat-soaked game of basketball plays out before him.
It’s a masterful performance if he does say so himself. His best yet. Wincing and rubbing at the faux-injury. Sighing. A much-practiced work of art, though their disgruntled gym teacher, Mr. Fortman, is looking at him with suspicion.
Team sports are not Eddie’s thing and he’s not going to pretend otherwise. He’s not terrible at them, he’s just innately bored by them. Besides, he much prefers this current view. He’ll pull the twisted ankle card as many times as possible just to be able to see it again with full attention.
Billy Hargrove rubbing up against Steve Harrington. Taunting and carnal. The basketball between them just an excuse to get closer.
Eddie wasn’t anticipating being this riveted today. He had decided he hated the new guy on sight. Hated how he strutted around proud as a peacock. Flaunting his dick in tight jeans. Stinking up the place with his overpowering cologne and his disgusting ego. Thinking he’s some kind of badass metalhead when he probably couldn’t name a single Dio song if he tried. Eddie’s heard Hargrove blasting his MTV teenybopper excuses for headbangers from his souped up Camaro and it’s enough to make him scoff.
All image. No substance. No real personality.
Though, the firm body underneath all that too-tight clothing definitely has caught Eddie’s attention. Especially now, shirtless. Muscled and sleek and shiny with fresh sweat. Pushing up against Steve from behind with that certified satanic leer.
Eddie’s jerked off thinking about the two of them before. Separately. King Steve is a given, of course. The gold standard considering he’s the most stereotypically handsome guy in school and is the kind of entitled jock asshole you want to fuck into submission. But now Eddie knows he’ll imagine Steve with Billy next time around. Two boys on fire. Violence in the air, in their eyes, on their tongues. Hot, hateful, and maybe even pining for a taste of male skin.
And with today’s relentless imagery, Eddie wonders if it’ll be possible to imagine them separately ever again.
*
“Hey, Munson.” Billy interrupts Eddie smoking outside the brick building in between classes. The greeting is mostly hostile. Like he’s snapping his fingers at a waiter.
Eddie sips back smoke from his cigarette in the autumn chill, unable to stop himself from scanning over Billy’s toned body in blue jeans and a skin-sucking shirt. Eddie doesn’t greet him back. No one fucking talks to him that way and gets his good side.
“Whatcha doing out here?” Billy leans against the wall beside him, taking up space like they’re suddenly buddies when his tone is anything but.
Eddie glances at Billy briefly, and when their gazes lock, he gets goosebumps.
Dead as a shark’s, those eyes. No spark of humanity. Like he’s just borrowing this beautiful human suit for the sole purpose of tormenting people.
Then again, Eddie’s not sure if his own eyes pass the humanity-check either. He’s sure most of Hawkins would say they don’t.
“What’s it look like I’m doing?” Another slow drag, his gaze now on the horizon while noticing an undeniable frisson between him and Billy. Ricocheting off their bodies. Pounding through skin and bone.
Eddie doesn’t like it. Prefers to watch Billy from afar like a detached, horny scientist. Not be up close and personal with a guy this obviously psychopathic.
Not that Eddie’s afraid of psychos. He met a few while he was locked up and one learns to maneuver around them. They can even be entertaining. But boy, do they get cumbersome when they try to sink their canines into you.
Billy smiles meanly, taking out his own cigarette. “You got a light?”
“Nope.”
“Ah, cold shoulder, huh?” Billy steals the cigarette out of Eddie’s mouth and presses the glowing cherry against his unlit one, puffing until it scorches up. Eddie watches, bemused, annoyed, curious.
Eddie plucks his cigarette back. “And you wonder why?”
“No. I know it’s an act.”
Eddie snorts. “Trust me. It’s not.”
“Didn’t look that cold to me when you were on the bleachers.”
The baby hairs on Eddie’s nape rise up, full of static. “Not sure what you mean.”
“Liar, liar, Munson,” Billy sing-songs. “We all know what kinda freak you really are.”
“Ohh, you do, do you?” Eddie’s all distant sarcasm as he taps out ash. An adept performance as he steels himself for the inevitable.
Definitely wouldn’t be the first time someone’s taunted him about his sexual preferences but he knows it’s going to be especially nasty coming out of Billy’s mouth.
“I do. You some kinda fag?”
Hm. Could have been worse.
“Why? Would you like that?” Eddie darkens his voice suggestively just to make Billy squirm.
Billy grins, but an instant rage tinges the atmosphere. A hint of blood on the wind. “You’re avoiding the question.”
Eddie quirks a joyless grin back. Doesn’t answer.
“Since when are you an enigma?” Billy says with building frustration. “You’re usually a yapping, obnoxious clown. Cat got your tongue?”
“I don’t like your tone, Hargrove. It’s kind of off-putting. Maybe try again with a little more honey instead of all that piss. You might get somewhere.”
Billy huffs a short cackle. “So fag it is.”
“Labels are dull, don’t you think?” Cat’s out of the bag, so Eddie doesn’t bother to pretend anymore. “I’m more fluid than that. Though, by how tight your jeans are, seems like you are too.”
Billy’s face falls. “What the fuck are you trying to say?”
Oh, neat. He’s one of those grossly in-denial bullies. “Guess.”
Billy’s all up in his face now, eyes blazing. Cobalt hellfire. “You wanna say that again to me?”
“Uh, your jeans are obscenely tight and no one with a braincell thinks you’re totally straight?”
Billy’s nostrils flare. He shoves Eddie back a step, and the quick pressure of that rough hand on him heats Eddie’s blood, a blaze that goes from sternum to dick. He ignores it because potentially being punched in the throat is far more distracting. “You’re dead, Munson.”
“Figured I was the second you sashayed up to me, but that’s okay.” Eddie lifts up his fist casually, examining his silver rings. He draws out each word, sinister with it. Not exactly enjoying how he has to resort to this tactic, but knows it’s necessary. “How do you think this would feel once it hit your face, Hargrove? Think it might sting a bit? Think it might gouge open that pretty bottom lip of yours?”
Billy looks uneasy for a second, then does that grotesque grin of his again. He takes another step forward, getting even more in Eddie’s face. “I’ll let you in on a little secret of mine. Wanna hear it?”
“No, but you’re gonna tell me anyway so make it snappy.”
“First off, I’m not a fag. So let’s get that out of the way.”
“Oh. Okay.” The corner of Eddie’s mouth perks as he pulls in a fresh drag of tobacco. “Silly me.”
“But you wanna know what happened to the last guy who threatened me?”
“Deceased, I imagine. Did you bury the body or burn it?”
Eddie can tell by the way Billy’s jaw tightens he doesn’t like being danced and darted around. Doesn’t like how Eddie is always a second ahead. And it’s not like Billy’s dumb either. He’s just not as quick. Eddie learned to be quick growing up because despite his reputation, he’d rather not fight. He’d much rather spar verbally than physically.
It’s not his fault that people keep pushing him until he snaps.
Billy’s expression twists further, a berserker rage sizzling behind those feline eyes.
Eddie’s cock kicks a little in his jeans. A tight, hot sensation in his abdomen.
Billy chuckles, inches back to scan Eddie thoroughly. “I see what you’re doing.”
“And what’s that?”
“You think you can get in my head. Make me feel stupid, huh?”
“Nah,” Eddie keeps his words disinterested, though his skin feels electrified, muscles pulled tight like he’s ready to bolt. “I’m dumb as they come, Hargrove. It wouldn’t even cross my mind.”
“Uh-huh.” Billy folds his arms, leaning his shoulder against the brick. “It’s funny watching you try to fuck with me. It’s almost like you get off on it. You into mind games, Munson?”
Eddie chuckles, shaking his head. “Dude. You’re the one that came up to fuck with me. I don’t give a shit about you, let alone trying to get in your head.”
A long pause as Billy stares him down.
“Very cute.” Billy gingerly pats Eddie’s face, demeaning, like Eddie just did an adorable trick. “You better have that lighter for me next time. A cigarette too.”
Something explodes inside Eddie’s chest and gut. A heady mix of poisonous flame and a cold, laser-sharp anger. One that he had hoped to tame so he could finally escape the cycle of violence he was born into. “Touch me again, Hargrove, and my cigarette’s going in your fucking eye.” He says the words without the charm he’d usually inject into them because he one hundred percent means it.
“Sure it is.” Billy shrugs, backing away with a knowing smile, evidently finished with whatever they just experienced. Pleased with the barely restrained fire in Eddie’s eyes. “See ya, Munson.” He walks off with a strutting sway, a confident regality in him that doesn’t belong anywhere near this nowhere town.
Eddie soaks in that hedonistic gait despite himself, sucking his cigarette down to the filter. He flicks the yellow stub to pavement, eyes glued to Billy’s retreating form as he forces his blood to cool. Unable to rip his gaze away from what he knows is about to crash into him again.