the_freak | Dear Billy

Glance his way, Eddie shrugs, trying not to look as guilty as he feels. He'd done his best while scouting to not pick anything with a car seat, or someone who obviously worked at the hospital, but chances are whoever he stole it from isn't going to be feeling too charitable about it. "Desperate times," he excuses.

A good thing. Eddie considers that a moment, looking out at the road ahead, and he nods, thinking he has at least some semblance of what that means. He doesn't press for more details, catching the cigarette from between his lips to hold as he turns. They could all use a few more good things.

He pulls into Rick's, chest tight at being back here, but he tries to ignore the feeling. He'll hide the car better tomorrow, no one's going to be patrolling for it out here. "We should be safe here for a while," he says, killing the engine and reaching to grab his shit from the back, shoving the walkie back his bag.

It wasn't like Billy was in the running for Boy Scout of the year or anything, so he... doesn't judge too much. Or at least out loud. He instead focuses on chaining some puffs together and blowing it out the now rolled down window. They've gone to an unfamiliar part of town, and it must be Lover's Lake.

Unfamiliar part of town, unfamiliar lake, unfamiliar house. But Eddie says it's safe, so he gets out with the vase and the groceries. Another growl of his stomach. "The sooner we get in there, the sooner I can heat up some of this food." Maybe if there was a toaster, he could start with that and work up to the other things he bought. "Are there... appliances I can use inside?" He starts up towards the door, no hesitation this time compared to the steps of the Hargrove house.

The boat house still has a few broken strands of police tape around it, but hopefully those don't draw Billy's attention.

Eddie nods, clearly familiar with the place. He's camped out at Rick's more than a few times. The place is still a mess from Carver and his friends, and Eddie rights some of the furniture with a frown. "Kitchen's that way," he directs, dirty pot of noodles still sitting on the stove top.

He's noticed. But Billy keeps quiet for the time being because no point in making accusations without more facts. Maybe this guy that owned the house was just a bad person. Or maybe he skipped town when the earthquake happened. Fucking hillbilly pussies. The earth shakes a little and they scatter like roaches.

He doesn't eye the mess too much, heading right into the kitchen. The power's still active, so the light's on, stuff put into the refrigerator, and he takes in what he's got to use. The noodles get dumped - God only knows how long that shit has sat there. The pot gets put into the sink and he finds a toaster. Promising start.

The smell of toasting bread lightly fills the kitchen and after washing a couple of bowls, Billy makes some spagettio's to go with it. "Made a bowl for you, Eddie," he calls out, putting his toast on a napkin and taking his bowl out to the living room. There's definitely hunger in his eyes - real food that wasn't military rations.

Eddie fusses about with some basic tidying, enough to make the place some what livable for the next few days. He digs out some blankets and drops them on the couch after making sure Rick's bed is somewhat workable. Billy can take the bed, he reasons. Looks like he could use it, and it's not like Rick can protest. The couch'll be more comfy than the boat house at any rate.

He smells the food, and looks surprised Billy's bothered with plating it up all nice. "Thanks, Man," he gives passing pat to Billy's shoulder, going to collect his own bowl, all ready digging in before he's returned to take a seat. "Made up the bed. Rick's clothes should fit you if you wanna change, and the shower's shit, but it works."

Billy doesn't deal in verbal thanks. He does it by doing stuff, evident with the hot bowl of food waiting for him. The blond takes a seat on the couch and bundles under a couple of blankets (how was he so cold?) before pulling the bowl to him. "I'll shower after I eat," comes the point blank response. He's hungry but he understands what's being offered at least.

He tries not to think about the bloody and dirty scrubs he's still in, or the blood and dirt caked under his nails. No thoughts on that, and instead focuses on his food. He goes right for the tomato soup and pasta mixture, trying not to just shovel it into his mouth. It sits heavy in his stomach and only gets halfway through his bowl when he has to stop. Usually this was something he'd be able to push through, but the way his stomach cramps up is terrible.

Maybe he shouldn't have tried something heavy like this after coming out of the lab...

It's very much appreciated if the way Eddie's scarfing it down is any evidence. He tries not to think about how strange this is. Maybe it's easier now since everything that's happening. This hardly even ranks anymore.

He pauses, perceptive enough to see something's off with Billy, and he licks his spoon clean before checking- "You good?" trying to keep his tone light. He looks like he might hurl, and Eddie cautiously sets his bowl down.

It's wrong. Not... the food being wrong, it's good, it's wrong and heavy. His stomach churns and cramps. Billy doesn't even hear the question before he's bounding off of the couch in search--

Where is it? He pounds up the stairs with a hand on his stomach before finally entering the bathroom. The porcelain lid almost gets ripped off as Billy opens it to empty out what he just ate. He yells, frustrated because he wants the food damn it! And now he's here, vomiting like a bitch that's drank too much. It takes a few more passes for it to all get out and he slumps against the wall opposite from the toilet.

"...fuck."

Fuck. Eddie looks after him and sighs. He can hear well enough the struggle that follows, and he gives Billy space for a moment before quietly making his way up after him.

He leans in the door way with an apologetic smile, not sure what to say. He slides down the wall inside to crouch next to Billy, giving his shoulder a small bump with his own.

"...you want some water?" he asks softly.

Billy looks so beaten down, a shell of the man he had been before the Mind Flayer. So thinned out, dirty, and so split. Blue eyes look at Eddie as the other joins him.

God, his head hurts. Maybe he should've grabbed gatorade instead of Pepsi. The shoulder bump to his own doesn't get a mirrored response, but he does slump over to use Eddie as support. "...hate it here. 'm hungry but m'stomach didn't want that." Toast. He should've started with the toast.

"... I want a toothbrush." Scrub his teeth of vomit.

"Give your stomach a break and then we'll start slow," Eddie advises, as though this is a team effort.

He frowns faintly, unsure he can provide in this instance. He glance at Rick's toothbrush with a dismissive hum and pushes away from the wall.

"Hang on-" he says, poking around in the cupboard under the sink to see if he can find something. "Got this?" he offers, blindly handing back an old bottle of mouthwash.

That was a good idea. In his haste for eating something that weren't old as fuck rations, Billy hadn't even thought about acclimating his stomach back to regular food. All he can think about in this moment is the warmth of Eddie's shoulder under his cheek, and how dizzy he is from throwing up. When the other stands, Billy puts his support back on the wall to watch.

He takes the bottle and cracks it open. Its... got a refreshing taste, so the blond takes enough to swish and around recaps the bottle to push back into Eddie's hands. It doesn't work entirely, but it passes enough to get the sour taste from his mouth. Once he's finished, it spits it into the toilet bowl and flushes it.

"...if I wasn't hungry before, 'm fucking starving now." And shit does he sound tired.

Eddie offers a hand up, trying not to look too 'pittying'. He hates when that look is focused on himself.

"Come on, we'll try again." He offers his support if Billy needs it. "I'll get you soe water too."

Billy eyes that hand for a long moment. Was Eddie giving him a pitiful look? Or was that just his memory filling in Neil for Eddie? One hand goes to rub his eyes against the headache forming, then takes the offered hand with his other. Once he's upright, he braces against the wall before his balance equals out.

"Yeah. I should've started small or some shit." Now he sounds closer to Hargrove, all frustrated and grumpy. A quick glance to show the toilet bowl is clean of the contents given, and he follows back down to the first story, albeit slower than earlier. "I should've grabbed aspirin."

"S'fine," Eddie reassures. It's not like Billy made himself sick on purpose. They'll just try again.

"Oh, I can find some probably," And Eddie's all ready racing back up, waving for Billy to go on ahead. "Just take it slow. There's tv, or the radio or whatever, maybe throw something on to distract yourself," he encourages.

He disappears back upstairs, small curses erupting now an again as he searches.

When was the last time someone showed him kindness? Kindness without stipulations? There had been that strange girl in the mall, remarking how his mother was pretty.

While Eddie goes to hunt down some pills, Billy gets up to turn the television on, then goes to the kitchen. When he returns, the vase of shells in back in his arms. The news is on, going through the weather for the rest of the week. Going through missing persons.

Billy stops as Eddie's face pops up. The reporter gives few details about looking for Eddie Munson, how he was still wanted for murder, and how there seem to be no new leads. The news presses on to national sports. The young man stares at the set before glancing up at the ceiling where he can hear cursing in Eddie's hunt.

Was that guy really a murderer? He didn't interact with him in school at all, but he had heard the whispers. How Eddie was a satan worshipper, a freak, all sorts of things. And he had been so adamant in hiding in the hospital room. Max's hospital room. The vase gets set down quickly, in time for Billy to collapse against the floor. When he awakens with a start, it's not the soft Billy anymore.

"MUNSON!" he shouts, wincing at his own headache. Fucking... ate that shit way too fast. Too heavy. Feet pound the stairs as he heads back up them, a man on a mission.

"Ah-" Eddie grins to himself, finally finding what he's searching for, and he gives the container a little rattle. There's not a ton of pills in there, but it's something.

He straightens at the unexpected shout, naively thinking Billy's just being impatient. "I got it, I got it," he mutters, coming out to display the pill bottle with a triumphant grin. That smile's quick to fade as his mind recalculates. Nope. Shit. This is far too familiar a scene. Eddie scrambles put distance between them without waiting to see what the issue was, bolting like a god damn rabbit.

He nearly falls over himself into Rick's room, throwing his shoulder against the door to try and keep Hargrove out.

"I didn't do anything-" he's quick to defend, all of which probably paints him as more guilty than he realizes.

Munson comes out to him and there's no hiding the look on Hargrove's face. He's clearly angry at what he presumes is this dick trying to kill his stepsister. Did he like Max? Not a family level. But he didn't want her dead either. The door gets slammed between them and Hargrove body checks it.

If this had been back in June of last year, it might've yielded under him. But with no muscle now by comparison, it simply creaks and he tries again. "Why the fuck are you wanted for murder, Munson?!" Another body check. "You going in to finish the job on Max?" And Eddie couldn't have done it, not with Billy there. Now he had Hargrove somewhere unfamiliar, with no way for the police to really look for them here.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Eddie presses his weight against the door and shakes his head, winces as the door shudders with Hargrove's attempts to get in.

"I didn't do it," he pleads, echoing his words from out on the lake. "Just stay away from me, Man." Desperate eyes scope out the room, and he bolts for the opposing window, trying to pry it open before Hargrove can get inside.

Even like this, apparently Hargrove could still be terrifying. He feels the weight of something against the door. Maybe a chair or a dresser. It's not budging like he wants and it's pissing him off more. He wants in, so he can shake down Eddie for answers. "Then why are you on the God damn news, Munson?!"

He hears steps moving from the door and Billy kicks at it this time. It doesn't budge until a well aimed kick at the handle breaks it and knocks it open. "Why the fuck do people want you for murder if you didn't do it?!" He's storming over, picking up the pace despite each step feeling like a whip cracking over his head. It still hurts, and now he's dehydrated and hungry.

"Come on you piece of shit-" Eddie strains with the window, which refuses to budge, and he starts back with wide eyes, corned now, and with out anything he can use as a makeshift weapon.

"Look- just-...just trust me, Man, I swear-" he stammers, holding up his palms to try and keep Hargrove at a distance. "I didn't hurt her. I didn't hurt any of them-"

Edited (missing word) 2023-03-12 23:13 (UTC)

Palms up or now, Hargrove gets into Eddie's space and slams his arm up against the other's throat to pin him against the window he had been trying to pry open. "How the fuck can I trust you to not lie? You kept us away from all the cops and hospital people, you were going to her room when you shouldn't be hanging out around her at all. Then you hijack someone's car, and have a wanted poster in the shop. You're on the fucking news, Munson," and it's all hissed out like a snake.

"A lot of this shit is making you seem really fucking suspicious, Munson."

Flinch, Eddie opts for a submissive nod, lifting his chin to try and earn himself some more breathing space, fingers catching at Hargrove's arm. His all ready wide eyes are even wider, and shinning with unshed tears he's trying to blink away.

"It was-...nnn- it's was him," he offers with a desperate emphasis on 'him' that wouldn't mean much to most of the residence of Hawkins, but might mean something more to Hargrove. Though Eddie still doesn't know much about the Mind Flayer.

Hargrove isn't pressing to harm. Just threaten. It's working, if those unshed tears are anything to go by. And he holds that position, just waiting for Eddie to slip up with the wrong phrase or words. Almost like he wants the other to do so.

It's just that one word that changes his facial expression. The angry and hard gaze softens with realization. Him. Hargrove knew a him. A him that Hawkins wouldn't understand. A him that he protected Billy from after the mall incident. He recalls how the Mind Flayer answered to a him, though that man didn't have a name. The arm stays up, but it's not pressing as hard now.

"...Who do you mean him." It's supposed to be a question, but it comes as a soft statement.

He hates that fear is still his go to reaction after all this. Sure, he can muster up moments of bravery, but at his heart, he's still a god damn coward.

"...W-we called him Vecna," he returns hesitantly, expression one that worries he won't be believed. But if anyone's going to understand this crazy shit you can't begin to explain without sounding crazy, Billy Hargrove is one of them. "But he's...all of it. The whole fucking hivemind- I didn't touch any of them."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject