Kiss with a Fist

Chapter 4

A/n: turns out you can't copy and paste playlists on Wattpad which is annoying so I'll just put the name of the playlist. Kiss with a Fist/Harringrove. I'm still adding to it so it will change. Sorry this chapter is short and there's not much going on other than angst, I promise the next chapter will be more fleshed out.

"Holy Fuck, Billy." Steve muttered. Billy was stood at his front door, dried blood smeared all over his face and on his clothes and he was shaking. Steve really wanted to punch Neil Hargrove. The bastard hadn't even let Billy recover from his previous beating and was already hitting him again? No amount of pain seemed to satiate Neil's hunger for violence.

Steve was reminded that Billy's injuries had already been aggravated earlier that day during basketball practice. Just how much pain was Billy in?

It turned out, a lot of pain. As Steve motioned for Billy to come inside, the blonde took one step and all but collapsed. Steve caught him before he could hit the ground and managed to get his arm under Billy's legs before lifting the younger bridal style and laying him on the couch.

"Shit-I should really be taking you to a hospital right now-but I know you'll fight me on it-but shit Billy this going to far." Steve rambled as he grabbed the medical kit and started patching Billy up. Again.

Billy whimpered as the disinfectant stung the cuts littering his body. "I k-know but it'll just make it worse if I go...they ask too many questions and my dad will use his status to wheedle his way out of it and he'll beat the shit out of me ten fold for telling anyone...or they'll call CPS and Max will be stuck in a home and I don't want that for her.." he whispered before dissolving into a fit of coughs.

Steve sighed and brushed Billy's bloodied curls away from the boy's face, watching as Billy's eyes fluttered weakly and a strained smile showing bloodstained teeth briefly flashed on his face at the small comforting contact.

"Okay. Okay fine. But you're staying here until you're healed...you can stay here for as long as you need to really-you can even move in. My parents are never home anyway." Steve rambled, just wanting to take Billy away from that hell hole and put him in a little bubble of safety.

Billy's blue eyes met Steve's doe brown ones. "M'sorry your parents are shitty." Billy muttered because he didn't know what else to say in response to Steve's offer of staying or the admission that Steve's parents weren't home.

Billy wished he had parents that were never home-but it felt selfish to say that, and Steve had been so nice to him that it felt wrong to be a selfish asshole again now.

So he stayed quiet and watched as Steve picked up the bloodstained Metallica shirt Billy had been wearing.

"Get some rest, I'll get this washed for you." Steve hummed gently and left to wash the shirt in his hands. He'd gotten pretty good at getting bloodstains out of clothes. Courtesy of the upside down and babysitting The Party.

Billy sighed and stared at the ceiling, trying to count how many swirls were in the pattern. He gave up after 25.

He was too wired on adrenaline to sleep yet, but even as the adrenaline wore off the pain was enough to keep him from sleeping. The painkillers Steve had given him had took the edge off but they weren't enough, he needed hospital grade morphine if he wanted to sleep, but going to hospital was too risky.

A second fit of coughs rattled Billy's body, jostling his barely healed broken ribs. Blood dribbled down his chin. Dragging himself off the couch he staggered into the kitchen, spitting the blood into the sink.

He squeezed his eyes shut tightly against the pain pounding behind his eyes and his temples. The black and white dancing in his vision had become quite common. He gripped the edge of the sink so hard his knuckles turned white and threatened to burst out of his skin.

Billy sank to his kneels on the cold tiles of the kitchen floor. The dizzying pressure in his head reached a tipping point and he grabbed at the trash can, throwing up. A whimper escaped his throat that he desperately tried to choke down. He couldn't show any sign of weakness.

He retched again, bringing up the rest of a half a bowl of cereal he'd eaten earlier, the only thing he'd eaten that day.

The third time he retched it was nothing but stomach acid that burned his throat and nose. He slumped into his side in the ground, still loosely clinging to the trash can like a lifeline. His eyes rolled back as his body gave into unconsciousness.

That was how Steve found him twenty minutes later when he'd finished washing Billy's shirt and put it in the dryer.

He sighed and slowly lifted Billy up, carrying him to the sofa before cleaning up the mess.

________________________________

Billy woke up feeling like he had the worst hangover in existence. His head felt like it was stuffed full of wet cotton wool, while simultaneously one of those monkey toys with symbols was crashing around in his head.

His mouth tasted like blood and bile and burnt like hell.

He felt like shit.

He shifted and was surprised to feel the smooth leather of the couch instead of the hard tiles. There was also a blanket draped carefully over him. He turned his head to see Steve asleep on the other couch. It looked like Steve had been crying. Billy frowned. He didn't like that. Harrington shouldn't have red rimmed eyes, his face shouldn't be twisted into a sullen expression as he slept.

Billy felt something churn in his stomach as he realised that the reason Steve had been crying was him. He was causing Harrington pain without even meaning to. He really was only good for hurting and destroying just like his father had said so often. Billy took a good thing and ruined. It was all he knew how to do. He didn't deserve to have nice things in the first place. He was too toxic. A poison. A disease. He spread and corrupted and wrecked.

Billy slowly got up, covered Steve with the blanket and fled. He couldn't stay and keep infecting Steve with his toxicity. He couldn't allow himself to ruin Steve Harrington. Perfect, kind and considerate Steve. Steve who had helped him even after he'd punched the brunette to the point of unconsciousness.

Billy really was just a monster like his father.

The first thing Steve heard as he woke up was the loud blare of Judas Priest and the roar of the Camaro's engine as Billy drove off. He looked around the now empty living room and put his head in his hands.