tutor
The Brawl and the Aftermath
The thud of Steve’s body hitting the polished wood of the basketball court reverberated through the empty gym, a stark punctuation mark to Billy’s rage. Steve scrambled to his feet, a fresh wave of humiliation washing over him. It wasn’t just the fall; it was the sheer, unadulterated fury in Billy’s eyes, the way his voice had cracked with genuine hurt when he’d spoken of Y/N. The realization that he had truly messed up, that he’d hurt someone innocent, hit him with the force of a physical blow.
– What the hell, Hargrove?! – Steve gasped, rubbing his bruised elbow. – You wanna go?!
– Oh, I wanna go, Harrington, – Billy snarled, his lips peeling back in a feral grin. – I absolutely wanna go. This is for my sister, you pathetic excuse for a human being!
Billy lunged, a wild, untelegraphed punch aimed squarely at Steve’s face. Steve, driven by instinct and years of sparring with Tommy, ducked just in time, the fist whistling past his ear, stirring the neatly gelled hair. He retaliated with a wild, desperate swing that connected with Billy’s jaw. The satisfying *thwack* echoed in the cavernous space.
Billy staggered back, one hand flying to his jaw, his eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and intensified rage. A low growl rumbled in his chest. Red bloomed on his knuckles, a clear sign his own punch had connected with something solid, even if it wasn't Steve's face.
– You hit me, you pretty boy piece of trash! – Billy roared, spitting the words out like venom.
– You started it! – Steve shot back, his own adrenaline pumping, blurring the lines between reason and raw aggression.
Billy charged again, a primal scream tearing from his throat. This wasn't a schoolyard scuffle; this was something darker, fueled by a protective fury Steve had never encountered. They collided in a flurry of fists and elbows, grunts and curses. The air filled with the slap of skin against skin, the heavy breathing of two young men locked in a brutal dance.
Steve, despite his athletic build, found himself struggling against Billy’s raw, untamed power. Billy fought dirty, elbows jabbing, knees aiming for soft spots. Steve, used to the more structured aggression of basketball, was on the defensive, trying to block and counter, but Billy was relentless. A fist connected with Steve’s cheekbone, sending a jolt of pain through his head. Stars danced in his vision for a moment, and a metallic taste filled his mouth.
– You think you’re so tough, huh, Harrington? – Billy panted, grabbing Steve by the collar of his shirt, pulling him close. – You think you can just walk all over people, laugh at them, make them feel like dirt?!
– Let go of me! – Steve choked out, struggling against Billy’s iron grip.
He managed to knee Billy in the thigh, making him grunt and loosen his hold for a split second. Steve used the opportunity, pushing Billy back, creating a sliver of space. He saw a flash of movement, a glint of anger in Billy’s eyes, and then a hard, fast kick to his shin. Steve cried out, hopping on one foot, momentarily exposed. Billy didn’t hesitate, following up with a vicious uppercut that snapped Steve’s head back. He stumbled, falling against the wall, his head connecting with the unforgiving concrete with a sickening thud.
The world spun. His ears rang. Billy was a blur of motion, closing in again. Steve tasted blood, warm and coppery. He braced himself, expecting another blow, but it didn't come.
Instead, a sharp whistle pierced the air, followed by a booming voice.
– HEY! WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?!
Coach Miller, a burly man with a perpetually stern expression, stood at the gym entrance, his face a mask of disbelief and anger. He must have heard the commotion from his office.
Billy, momentarily startled, froze, his fists still clenched, his chest heaving. Steve, leaning against the wall, tried to clear his head, pushing himself upright.
– Harrington! Hargrove! – Coach Miller stalked towards them, his eyes narrowed. – What in God’s name do you two think you’re doing?!
Billy, ever the defiant one, glared at the coach. – He started it!
– I started it?! You tackled me, Hargrove! – Steve retorted, wiping a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth.
– You deserved it, you prick! – Billy spat.
– That’s enough! – Coach Miller bellowed, stepping between them. – Both of you! My office. Now!
The walk to Coach Miller’s office was silent and tense, punctuated only by their heavy breathing and the echoing footsteps. Steve could feel the throbbing in his jaw, the ache in his head. He glanced at Billy, whose lip was split, a dark bruise already forming on his jaw where Steve’s punch had landed. They looked like two stray dogs, battered and bruised, dragged in from a street fight.
Once inside the cramped office, Coach Miller slammed the door shut, making them both jump. He stood behind his desk, arms crossed, his gaze sweeping over them, full of disappointment and barely concealed fury.
– I thought you two were better than this, – he began, his voice surprisingly quiet, which somehow made it more intimidating. – Fighting like animals in my gym. Do you have any idea how serious this is?
Neither of them spoke. Steve stared at his shoes, a fresh wave of shame washing over him. This was bad. Really bad.
– Harrington, – Coach Miller’s voice cut through the silence. – You’re my captain. You’re supposed to set an example. What in the hell possessed you?
Steve swallowed hard. He couldn’t exactly tell Coach Miller that he’d effectively made Y/N cry by parading her private crush on him around school. That would just make everything worse.
– He… he jumped me, Coach, – Steve mumbled, looking up, meeting the coach’s gaze. – He was mad about something.
– Mad about something? – Billy scoffed, stepping forward. – He humiliated my sister, Coach! Made a mockery of her in front of the whole damn school!
Coach Miller’s eyes flickered between them, a frown deepening on his face. – Is this true, Harrington?
Steve’s cheeks burned. He closed his eyes for a moment, the image of Y/N’s tear-streaked face flashing in his mind. He couldn’t deny it. Not anymore.
– I… I messed up, Coach, – Steve admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. – I found her notebook, and… I showed it to Tommy and Carol. They… they laughed. And Y/N saw.
He didn’t mention the content of the notebook. He didn’t need to. The implication was clear enough. Coach Miller sighed, running a hand over his face.
– So, this was about a girl, – he muttered, rubbing his temples. – And you, Hargrove, you decided to take matters into your own hands? You think violence is the answer?
– He deserved it! – Billy insisted, though his voice lacked some of its earlier conviction.
– Deserved it or not, you both broke school rules. And more importantly, you both acted like complete imbeciles, – Coach Miller said, his voice rising again. – This jeopardizes both of your positions on the team.
Steve’s heart sank. This was it. He was off the team. All because of his own stupid, thoughtless actions. He’d thrown away his chance, his one shot at… something.
– Look, Coach, – Steve started, desperate. – I know I screwed up. I really do. I’ll apologize to Y/N. I’ll do whatever it takes. Just… please don’t kick me off the team.
Coach Miller held up a hand, silencing him. – The principal will be hearing about this. You both will. As for the team… I’ll have to think about it. But let me tell you this, Harrington, Hargrove. If I see either of you lay a hand on each other again, or even look at each other funny, you’re both off the team for good. Understood?
– Yes, Coach, – they both mumbled, subdued.
– Now get out of my office. And don’t think this is over.
They shuffled out, the tension between them still palpable, a silent threat hanging in the air. Steve watched Billy stalk off in the opposite direction, his shoulders rigid with suppressed fury. He knew this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.
He walked mechanically to his car, his head throbbing, his mind a jumble of regret, anger, and a heavy sense of guilt. He had to find Y/N. He had to apologize. But what could he even say? How could he undo the humiliation he’d inflicted?
***
The girls’ bathroom was cold and sterile, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, illuminating the stark white tiles. Y/N sat huddled in a corner stall, her knees drawn up to her chest, the sobs wracking her body slowly subsiding into quiet sniffles. Her eyes were swollen and red, her face streaked with tears.
She had heard the commotion in the gym, the raised voices, the thudding sounds. She knew, with a sickening certainty, that it was Steve and Billy. Billy, her volatile, protective older brother, had gone to defend her honor. And now, he was probably in trouble. All because of her. All because she was stupid enough to have a crush on Steve Harrington and even more stupid to write it all down.
The humiliation was a physical ache in her chest. She felt utterly exposed, her deepest, most foolish secret paraded for all to see. Carol’s sneer, Tommy’s mocking laughter, Steve’s sheepish, almost apologetic grin – it all replayed in her mind, a relentless loop of agony.
She finally pushed herself to her feet, splashing cold water on her face. She looked at her reflection in the mirror, a stranger staring back at her, a girl she barely recognized. This wasn’t her. This wasn’t the quiet, studious Y/N who found comfort in books and the vastness of the cosmos. This was a broken, embarrassed mess.
A soft knock on the bathroom door made her jump.
– Y/N? – a hesitant voice called out. – It’s Nancy. Are you in there?
Y/N froze. Nancy Wheeler. Steve’s ex-girlfriend. What did *she* want?
– Y-yeah, – Y/N croaked, her voice hoarse.
The door creaked open, and Nancy stepped in, her eyes filled with a mixture of concern and pity. She looked down at Y/N, her expression softening.
– Oh, Y/N, – Nancy said, her voice gentle. – I heard what happened. I’m so sorry.
Y/N just shook her head, unable to form words. She didn’t want pity. She just wanted to disappear.
– Steve’s an idiot, – Nancy continued, walking closer. – A complete, utter idiot. He didn’t mean for it to go that far, I don’t think. But that doesn’t excuse it.
Y/N finally found her voice, a whisper. – He showed them everything. Everything I wrote.
– I know, – Nancy said, reaching out a hand, gently touching Y/N’s shoulder. – I saw it. Tommy still had it. I actually… I took it back.
Nancy reached into her bag and pulled out the familiar spiral-bound notebook. Y/N stared at it, a fresh wave of mortification washing over her.
– Here, – Nancy said, holding it out. – It’s yours.
Y/N took the notebook with trembling hands, clutching it to her chest. It felt heavy, a repository of all her foolish dreams.
– He didn’t even think, Y/N, – Nancy said, her eyes earnest. – He just… reacts sometimes. He’s not malicious, not really. Just thoughtless. And he’s feeling really bad about it, I can tell you that much. Billy just about beat him to a pulp.
Y/N flinched at the mention of Billy. – Is he okay? Billy?
– He’ll live, – Nancy said with a small, wry smile. – Coach Miller just tore them both a new one. But Y/N, you have to know… what they said, what they did… it doesn’t reflect on you. You’re smart. You’re kind. You’re… you’re a good person. And having feelings for someone, even if they’re a complete jerk sometimes, isn’t something to be ashamed of.
Y/N looked up at Nancy, surprised by her unexpected kindness. Nancy Wheeler, the popular girl, the one who had every right to gloat, was actually comforting her.
– Thank you, Nancy, – Y/N whispered, a fresh tear escaping.
– Don’t thank me, – Nancy said, squeezing her shoulder. – Just… don’t let them get to you. Don’t let them dim your light. And if you need anything, anything at all, you come find me, okay?
Y/N nodded, a small, fragile seed of hope beginning to sprout in the barren landscape of her humiliation.
***
Steve drove home in a daze, the pain in his jaw a constant reminder of his stupidity. He knew he had to talk to Y/N. He couldn't just leave things like this. He pulled up to his house, the imposing structure feeling even more empty than usual. He walked inside, the silence amplifying his guilt.
He found a note on the kitchen counter, written in his dad’s hurried scrawl: "Business trip. Back Friday. Don't burn the house down." As if.
He went to the mirror in the bathroom, examining his bruised face. A cut on his lip, a purpling cheekbone. Billy had definitely left his mark. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the gnawing ache in his gut, the shame that clutched at his chest every time he thought of Y/N’s tear-streaked face.
He paced the kitchen, unable to sit still. He replayed the scene in the hallway, the laughter of Tommy and Carol, the way Y/N had looked at him, her eyes wide with hurt and betrayal. He truly was an idiot. A complete, utter moron. He’d taken her vulnerability, her secret feelings, and turned them into a public spectacle.
He finally grabbed his car keys. He couldn’t wait. He had to go to her house. Even if she slammed the door in his face, he had to try. He had to apologize.
He drove to Y/N's house, a small, unassuming place compared to his own mansion. He hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering over the doorbell. What would he say? How could he possibly make this right?
He took a deep breath and pressed the doorbell. He heard movement inside, and then the door opened a crack. It wasn't Y/N. It was Billy.
Billy stood there, his own face a matching canvas of bruises and a split lip, his eyes narrowed, cold and dangerous.
– What do you want, Harrington? – Billy snarled, not bothering to open the door wider.
– I… I need to talk to Y/N, – Steve stammered, feeling immediately on the defensive.
– She doesn’t want to talk to you, – Billy said, his voice flat. – Now get lost.
– Billy, please, – Steve pleaded, his voice tinged with desperation. – I know I messed up. I really did. I just… I need to apologize. To her.
Billy let out a humorless laugh. – Apologize? After what you did? You think a couple of words are gonna fix that? You think you can just break her heart and then make it all better with a pretty little speech?
– I didn’t mean to break her heart, – Steve said, his voice dropping to a whisper. – I didn’t mean to hurt her at all. I was just… I was stupid. And thoughtless. And I’m so, so sorry.
Billy stared at him, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. He seemed to be weighing Steve’s words, assessing his sincerity.
– Get out of here, Harrington, – Billy finally said, his voice still hard, but with a hint of resignation. – She’s not seeing anyone. Especially not you.
He started to close the door, but Steve quickly put his foot out, stopping it.
– Please, Billy, – Steve begged, his voice raw. – Just tell her I came. Tell her I’m really, truly sorry. And that… that I’ll do whatever it takes to make it up to her.
Billy looked at him for a long moment, his expression unyielding. Then, without a word, he yanked the door shut, leaving Steve standing alone on the porch, the silence of the evening pressing in on him.
Steve stood there for a while, the cold air doing little to numb the ache in his chest. He had screwed up. Big time. And for the first time in a long time, King Steve Harrington felt utterly, completely powerless. He had to figure out a way to make this right. Not just for Y/N, but for himself. He couldn’t live with himself knowing he had caused that much pain to someone so innocent. He had to try. He just didn't know how.