Harringrove One-Shots

A Glimpse of Us

Angst, Mentioned Smut

Song Recommendation: Glimpse of Us - Joji

__________

It was so far-fetched, Steve knows.

Dear God, he knows.

Trying so desperately to find it - to find him - in the iris of some unassuming date. It was unfair and selfish, to both himself and whoever was that night's victim. But Steve Harrington would do anything, anything, to see - even if it's only a glimpse of Billy Harrgrove.

Sometimes he will:

In the darkness, with the shadows passing over his room, drawing across the walls, he can smell the smoke of a cigar. Floating just above him, lulling his body to sleep, entrapping his mind in a dreamless abysse. He can feel the burning heat of a Californian body lying beside him, running calloused fingertips across his arms, searing patterns into his skin. In his mind's eye, just beyond the endless nothingness, he can see the coil of blonde hair - beautiful in its wild nature.

Beautiful.

Sometimes he won't:

Nothing will come to him. Nothing will wrap around him, guide him into the rest that pulls at his eyes. Nothing to aid the ache in his heart. He'll lay there, staring at his ceiling fan as it spins, eyes following the blades, and beg for Billy to find him. He'll beg himself into insanity, beg himself to tears. Beg until he feels that he might just implode. On nights like those it hurts the most. Trying to soothe the hurt of being alone again, lost in the wood of his empty house, wide awake on cool sheets. He tries to imagine the smell of sea salt or the movement of a Saint Christopher necklace.

He tries.

He tries.

But it evades him.

Cruel.

Unbelievably cruel.

So he draws himself up, forcing himself through the cold night air. Steve tugs on the stray clothing he finds, running trembling hands through his hair. He throws himself into his car. Knuckle whitening grip on the steering wheel, guilt burning in his stomach.

He knows he shouldn't do this, knows that this is nothing more than a shot in the dark. But Steve also knows that his entire being prays that the shot will land. That he'll see Billy. His Billy.

He has to try.

__________

She's pretty.

Long blonde hair, curling around her lean shoulders, sea-blue eyes fanned by her golden eyelashes. The apples of her cheeks rest high on her face, sharp and beautiful. The curve of her cupid's bow leads to the fullness of her lips, dusted with lipstick and coated with shiny lip gloss. She is truly beautiful.

She introduces herself as Bianca, offering him a well-manicured hand with a breathy giggle. She rests her chin on the palm of her hand, smiling at him, and Steve wastes no time. He leans in closer, ordering her a drink, and breathes in the intoxicating scent of her perfume.

It doesn't smell of the beach - smelling of peaches and cinnamon - but Steve thinks that it's close enough.

He asks her if she smokes.

"Doesn't everyone?" She responds with another giggle, this one toppling over the bustling noise of Steve's thoughts, "Do you?"

He shakes his head, "No," He looks down at his hands before flickering his eyes back up to her, "But I love the smell."

A blush arises on her sharp cheeks and Steve knows he's got her.

__________

He feels guilty; terrible.