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Steve’s hand brushed Billy’s as he handed the cigarette back to him. He was surprised he even showed up to prom, he never thought he’d see Billy Hargrove in anything other than skin tight jeans but here he was in a surprisingly well fitted black suit.
And here they were. On the back steps of the school, sharing a cigarette. Another thing Steve would have never guessed would happen in a million years.
“Pretty boy like you should have a date.”
“I did. We didn’t click.”
Billy hummed, bringing the yellow filter up to his lips and taking a deep breath, letting his eyes flutter shut as acid smoke filled around his lungs.
“Why’d you always call me that?”
He raised an eyebrow, opening his eyes and turning his head to face Steve, gently blowing the smoke into his face.
“Asshole-” Steve muttered but continued, “pretty boy, why do you always call me pretty boy?”
“I mean I know you aren’t the sharpest tool in the shed but I thought that one was self explanatory.”
Steve looked at him unimpressed, clearly needing this to be spelled out. Billy rolled his eyes at him.
“You’re pretty.”
“Right, my bad for expecting a real answer out of you.”
“That is the real answer.”
Billy looked away, taking a quick drag before elaborating.
“You’re just, pretty, I suppose. Not many guys are pretty.”
There was a moment of quiet and Billy swore he heard Steve’s heart beating next to him. Then again, it could have been his own.
“Oh. Well, thanks. I guess.”
“My pleasure, pretty boy.”