Chapter Text
It isn’t long after Nancy breaks Steve’s heart that he realises his words can deliver just as hard a hit as the nail ridden bat he always keeps somewhere nearby.
His class are in gym playing basketball, or they’re trying to, anyway. Billy Hargrove is out sick and Tommy Hagan seems to have taken it upon himself to perform his best rendition. It’s infuriating that the idiot a) is holding up the entire game with this crap and b) does not have what Billy does when it comes to commanding a room. His taunting is mild at best and mind-numbingly pathetic at worst. Steve’s lost count of the number of times he’s rolled his eyes and sighed at him in the past half an hour, and the rest of their peers are clearly starting to get pissed at the constant hold ups too.
“Will you stop being a fucking idiot and play the game already?” Steve eventually asks, caving to the irritation bubbling up inside him. His patience is stretched so thin it’s close to breaking point and he’s not entirely sure what’s going to happen when it gets there, but he feels like he’s right on the precipice of a significant shift.
“What’s the matter, Stevie boy?” Tommy asks with an ugly smirk that Steve wants nothing more than to wipe off his equally ugly face. “Got your panties in a twist because Nancy Wheeler doesn’t love you and would rather fuck that weirdo freak Jonathan Byers?” He pouts at Steve in a condescending manner.
Something snaps in Steve, tense anger bubbling to the surface in a way that takes hold of his body like he’s been possessed. He stands a little straighter, a hand going to his hip as he keeps hold of the ball with the other. Tommy seems to pick up on the sudden change in Steve’s demeanor as he shrinks back ever so slightly when Steve levels him with a nasty look.
“You know, Tommy. It must really sting to always be second in command, always the bridesmaid, never the bride.” Steve sneers. “Maybe if you pulled your tongue out of the current reigning's asshole long enough to develop a personality, you wouldn’t be so insignificant that you have to be someone else’s lapdog just for people to remember who you are. Now either be a dear and play the damn game or fuck off to the bench where you belong, waiting for your moment in the spotlight but never quite getting it.”
“F-fuck you,” Tommy responds weakly. “You’re a washed-up loser, Steve.”
“Hmmm, maybe,” Steve nods. “But at least I’m not destined for a lifetime of kissing ass for a spec of recognition. Don’t be too sad about it though, Tommy, it’s not your fault. Some people will just never have what it takes, especially if what it takes is talent, looks or likeability.” He gives Tommy his best fake smile and a little wave of his fingers. “Goodbye now, Tommy. Enjoy the taste of Hargrove’s hairy, crusty, unwashed asshole.”
Tommy storms off, slamming the door to the gym shut behind him with a resounding bang. The entire room has fallen silent, so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Several of the people who’d chosen to sit out on the bleachers are staring at him, open mouthed. One of them, Steve thinks his name was Munson or something, is hiding a delighted grin behind a lock of hair he’s dragged in front of his face with his ring adorned fingers. The rest of the class is looking at him like he just grew another head.
And Steve? Steve feels powerful, and for once it doesn’t come from following unwritten illogical social laws to try and be the best at fitting in. It comes from letting his emotions loose and taking egotistical maniacs down a few dozen pegs.
“Well, are we going to finish the game or not?” he asks with a smile as he tosses the ball to one of the other guys in his class. The game resumes with less distractions this time, but Steve still feels people glancing in his direction every so often as if they’re still trying to process what happened.
The next day at lunch Steve notices Billy, flanked by Tommy and some other lackeys, threatening some freshmen and knocking over their lunch trays. For a second all he sees in his head is the four young boys in Nancy’s brother’s friendship group. The ones who survived hell the year before and were probably worth a thousand of Billy and his flock of loyal sheep.
That same quiet confidence fueled by anger starts to take hold of Steve again. He looks at Billy through fresh eyes, noting that the guy is basically just charisma, hair, a crappy personality and nothing else. Is this how people have been perceiving Steve all this time? He should probably fix that soon. But to start with he quickly gathers and purchases two new trays of lunch, crossing the cafeteria to place them in front of the kids who just lost theirs. They look up at him like he’s their new god and thank him profusely but he tells them not to mention it.
Billy’s moved on to torment another table of unsuspecting freshmen. He catches sight of Steve picking up the spilled trays and food and watches him carry them over to an appreciative lunch lady, his eyes narrowing. He only decides to make his move once Steve has settled into a seat with his own lunch.
“Heard you were being a bitch in gym yesterday, Steve,” Billy drawls loudly, announcing his presence. He’s wearing his signature casual smirk that looks like he’s aware of an embarrassing secret and is just waiting for the chance to blackmail you with it. It would be more off putting if it wasn’t for the fact that it looks so strained and doesn’t quite meet his eyes.
Steve laughs as he realisies just how desperately all of these guys are trying to appear like they’re untouchable and nothing bothers them, it would be hilarious if it didn’t have half the student body convinced that they were the people to be feared. It wouldn’t be staying that way for long if Steve had anything to say about it. The barest hint of a falter in Billy’s smile is to Steve what a drop of blood in the ocean is to a shark.
“That’s the bitch, Hargrove. Put some respect on it,” Steve replies casually, pushing his half empty tray aside and standing from his seat to face Billy head on. “Thanks for holding my crown for me while I was having a breather, but I’ll be taking that back now.”
“Is that so?” Billy says, an eyebrow raised in amusement as he rises to Steve’s challenge. “And how are you going to do that when no one’s afraid of you and no one wants to sleep with you?”
“Now we both know that second one is just straight up not true, but it’s cute how much you need to rely on other people to get anywhere,” Steve grins, patting Billy on the cheek boldly. “What would you be without your victims? A nobody and disappointment to your parents I’m guessing.” Billy flinches at that last line and Steve latches onto the reaction.
“Oh, did I strike a nerve?” Steve taunts. “Is Billy a big bad bully because he’s following in daddy's footsteps?”
“Shut the fuck up before I break your pretty face, Harrington,” Billy warns him, but it comes out too loud, like Steve’s getting under his skin for once instead of the other way around. It gives Steve a small thrill to see him so affected. People around them have noticed that Billy appears unnerved and begun to listen in.
“Aw you think my face is pretty, Billy?” Steve asks sarcastically. “I’m flattered, really, but unfortunately people with hair that has the texture of straw on the ends aren’t my type.”
To Steve’s amusement, Billy feels the ends of his hair self-consciously. He catches Steve’s reaction and scowls. “You might wanna stop fucking talking if you know what’s good for you,” he advises. “We both know you wouldn’t stand a chance in a fight against me.”
Billy’s secretly drowning, Steve’s been there, and he knows what it feels and looks like. However, if Billy’s being an asshole and taking it out on others who don’t deserve it, Steve isn’t going to take any pity on him. Plenty of people at Hawkins High School were secretly drowning, but they weren’t making people miserable and trying to drown everyone else with them.
“Is that all you’ve got? Your fists?” Steve asks. “No offense Billy, but no one’s ever been considered a great leader just because they punch real good. Do you know what I see when I look at you?”
“If you ask me, it’s a bit weird that you just admitted to looking at me. You queer or something, King Steven?” Billy asks, trying his best to hang on to some semblance of the upper hand. It falls flat.
“Nice to see you’re giving me my rightful title back, just like I asked,” Steve smirks, Billy looks caught off guard that Steve completely brushes past the queer remark without letting it affect him. “But what I see is a scared little boy trying desperately to inflict pain on other people because he wants that same power and control his dad seems to be able to get from treating everyone around him like dirt. Your act may have everyone else convinced but it’s so obvious.
“It’s obvious from your attempt at facial hair, and that expression you walk around with that’s supposed to be threatening but is closer to constipation. You’re trying so hard to be a big scary grown up but we can all see through it. Oh, and newsflash, your dad is also a scared little boy controlling people through fear because he has absolutely nothing else going for him. Might want to think on that one because right now that person you despise so much is you in about twenty years or so.”
“How was that?” Steve asks. “Were my feet planted enough for you?”
Billy’s staring at him in a state of shock, his mouth opening and closing like he’s trying and failing to come up with a response, and his eyes have a telling watery shine to them. Steve brushes past his shoulder, making his way toward the exit.
Along the way he catches sight of that boy from gym class again sitting at the head of one of the tables, only this time he’s staring at Steve in awe and squeezing the life out of a juice box, completely unaware of the orange juice flooding both his lunch and the table. Because Steve finds it kind of cute, he sends a warm smile in the guy's direction and gives a little wave of his fingers. The other guy returns the gesture, his rings glinting in the sun that shines in through the windows. His face doesn’t change from its dazed expression, but he does crush the juice box further.
Steve smiles to himself as he leaves the lunch hall in a state of complete disarray.
He’s going to love every minute of becoming an absolute fucking monster, he can already tell.