Kiss with a Fist

Chapter 3

So Steve decided he'd rather face the upside down, than have an abusive dad, but his parents were never around anyway.

So Steve understood. They had different problems, but both craved an escape. So he didn't try and stop Billy from playing, he just hoped the blonde would be careful.

That was wishful thinking.

Steve didn't think the world careful was in Billy's vocabulary when it came to his own well being because Billy played as recklessly as ever. Goading the other players, shouldering into them, playing with the same fire and ferocity he always did, and part of Steve was glad. Glad that Billy still has that spark. Steve was also worried however, that Billy was going to make his injuries worse.

Steve was right. Of course he was right.

It happened in the form of Tommy Hagan charging at Billy, and Steve saw Tommy purposely stick his arm out a little more than was necessary, and it caught Billy in the stomach, hard. Steve knew it was deliberate but couldn't prove it.

Billy went down with a crunch. He laid on the ground winded, eyes wide as he desperately tried and failed to get into his lungs. He felt bile rise up his throat and choked it down.  White and black spots dance in his vision before the black wins.

Billy wakes up to laid on the bench with a towel bunched under his head as a lumpy makeshift pillow. He tried to sit up and felt the nausea from earlier churn in his stomach, he nearly fell off the bench.

"Easy there son, you took quite a tumble. You need a bucket Hargrove?" It was the coach.

Billy's cheeks flushed hot with embarrassment and he managed a slow nod, because truthfully, he did need a bucket. He'd rather vomit in a bucket than on the floor.

"Harrington get a bucket." The coach ordered as he picked up a water bottle and handed it to Billy. "Drink." He commanded.

Billy cracked an eye open to see Steve frowning in concern before the brunette turned to go find a bucket. He took the water bottle and drank half it's contents before screwing the cap back on and setting it down. He laid back down on the bench and closed his eyes, he just wanted today to fucking end, but that also meant going home, and going home meant dealing with his dad, which wasn't very high on his list of things he wanted to do today.

Steve came back with one of the grey buckets reserved for sick students. He placed it where Billy would easily be able to grab it should he need to, which he did in the matter of five minutes as the queasiness made itself known again, and he soon found himself hunched over the bucket vomiting.

Steve had to resist the urge to hold Billy's hair out of the way so as not to add insult to the injury, because the others were already staring and some were smirking, so Billy didn't need the further embarrassment.

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Billy sighed and leaned his arm against the open window of his Camaro as he smoked a cigarettes to try and quell the nausea still residing in the pit of his stomach.

He was waiting for Max. He anxiously looked at his watch, if she didn't hurry they'd be late home, and he knew what that meant for him.

Finally he caught a glimpse of fiery red hair as Max barrelled out of the school and got into the passenger seat of the Camaro.

"You're late shitbird. Next time I'm leaving your ass behind." He threatened, they both knew he wouldn't leave her behind, it would result in a worse beating, max didn't know that part of course, she just knew Billy wouldn't make good on his threat.

Max just glared out of the window as Billy drove-a little over the speed limit because they were late-and with The Scorpions blasting from the car speakers. He was about to scold her for not listening when he noticed her eyes were glossy with unshed tears. He sighed, pushing down his anger at her being late. "Okay dipshit what happened?"