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Dear Billy
It was risky, hanging around the hospital like this when pretty much all of Hawkins was still convinced he was to blame for all of this, but Eddie felt like he owed it to Max to visit. It was rough seeing her like that. And he couldn't help the gnawing guilt that if any of them should have lost to this thing it was him. Each of them meant so much to so many people, and here he was, bruised and bandaged, but alive. And the only person who might have cared to know it had to think he was dead. It didn't seem fair.
He ducked outside for a smoke, keeping his head down, but people were too preoccupied with the mess that had opened up under them to be worried about hunting the Freak. As far as they were concerned the Munson boy was dead, and good riddance.
Trying to get the damn smoke to light, Eddie grew still, eyes suddenly catching a familiar set of piercing blue ones, and seeing that moment of recognition in them he paled. He abruptly turned tail, walking aimlessly around the side of the building and praying silently he'd only imagined that look of recognition.

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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.
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"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-"
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"A lot of this shit is making you seem really fucking suspicious, Munson."
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"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.
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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.
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"...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."
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"...Vecna." A whisper as he tries to take it all in. Being split and locked away, treated like an animal. That must've been what the scientists wanted from him before he was abandoned. The arm eases up more until it drops. "...Mind Flayer."
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He lets go fully, taking a few steps back and looking like he's been stupefied for a moment. What did he know of Eddie anyways? The school called him a freak, but what he did know of him? Nothing comes up aside from his board game and weird club. This was the guy that kept them safe from hospital staff, stole a car for him, and was going to bring him a bottle of pain killers.
What did he know about Eddie Munson?
"You're too scrawny to hurt someone," he finally breathes out. An insult, to be sure, but spoken without the venom it would usually be laced with. Blue eyes glance to the broken door, then away. Almost... like he's shamed.
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"You're not though, Jesus," he pants, trying to put on a teasing tone, "Shit, where'd they-" he stoops and collects the bottle he lost in the struggle, tossing it towards Hargrove. "I don't blame you, Man. Basically all of Hawkin's thinks I did it apart from Harrington and the kids."
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"I didn't even put that much fucking pressure on you, pussy," he snaps, missing the teasing tone. God his head hurts and he's still hungry. "I thought that Mind Flayer shit was gone!" He's not... angry, but definitely irritated, as he heads back downstairs. The blond lays out on the couch, pressing his face into the worn out cushions.
It wasn't the best material to put his face against, but after being without any sort of comforts for months, this could be silk for all he knew.
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He gives Hargrove a bit of space though, fiddling with that door for a moment before abandoning it to follow after him.
He fetches a glass of water, setting it on the table for him, and after an uncertain moment he drapes one of the blankets he fished out over the other man. "...Pretty sure Rick's done some pretty unspeakable things where your face is," he adds, just so he can't be accused of letting the moment get too wholesome or anything.
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Though despite the edge of bite his words have, even Billy smirks at that. "And I'm sharing a house with a wanted murderer." But he gets the hint and rolls so his face doesn't press back into the cushions.
"Fuck I am hungry. Even worse now. I'd eat that soup again if I didn't think I'd see it again."
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"Corpse and a wanted murderer walk into a bar...I've heard that one..." he muses, teasing smile fading some as he considers Hargrove's next words. "...I'll uh...I'll poke around, see if I can't figure out something easier to stomach. You sip on the water. Maybe catch a nap, I dunno."
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He doesn't want to nap. There's not really a need for it. God, he slept so much while down in the lab, and it wasn't just sleep when Billy was awake. At least it's safe here. And warm. The blanket is a little scratchy but... it helps. With what, Hargrove doesn't know.
Whatever.
Everything goes dark like he's taking a nap before the eyes flutter open again. Tired. Hungry. He sits up and Billy notes the toast still on the table. That was his right? He's not sure how he got onto the couch, but he sits there and takes the toast to munch on. Crunchy, dry, and plain, but it was something.
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He's busy in the kitchen for the switch over, though it's not long before there's a loud clattering and a string of curses, a frazzled Eddie peering back in to check on Hargrove and pausing when he sees him munching away on that toast.
Oh. Right. The toast. His cheeks colour, and he holds up a finger without explanation, ducking back into the kitchen to abort whatever he's been working on. "You're going slow, right Hargrove? You start ralphing again and I'm not holding your hair back."
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"You can call me Billy. That's my name," he points out, then munches on another piece. "I don't know what you're talking about, but this is helping. Is there any more bread? I can probably eat this for a bit. Is there jam?" He recalls a distant, hazy memory of being sick, and someone with blonde and curly hair like his, taking care of him.
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"...maybe sit with that one for a bit first?" he suggests casually, "A few minutes, and then if you still want more I can make it?"
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A huff and he sits back with the piece he's halfway through at this point. "Yeah? Make me feel like a child with a timer and shit for my food." But he eats what he's got, and sits back with the blanket still in his lap. The headache is at least ebbing, his stomach cramps lessening with some sort of food in it. But he waits, drumming his fingers on a knee while he does.
Because he wants more. He's hungry, damn it.
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He's not really sure how to properly fuss, dropping a second blanket into Billy's lap and pretending to get one for himself, quickly dropping it unused onto a chair and forgetting about it as he settles into a completely different one.
"So um...do you...how are you...feeling?" he asks carefully, not sure how to broach this. Hey, do you feel like you have a whole other guy in your head, but not THAT guy? Cause you do!
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"Mostly hungry. A little... almost like being hungover I guess? Just, the usual feelings after you get sick." Eyes glance over Eddie, lingering on his hands like they'll magically produce more toast. "A bit tired too, but I'm always tired." Billy didn't realize that being tired was just a side effect of switching, especially when they body had to deal with Hargrove's high energy.
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"God, I know. Like...five more minutes, okay? Pills should kick in soon," he offers, though maybe Billy doesn't remember taking them...that was Hargrove. "...do remember how you wound up on the couch?" he tries to prompt.
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"I remember… sort of collapsing. Over there," and the blond points to the area where the switch had happened. When Hargrove had deemed Eddie a threat and went for answers. "Figured I had blacked out or some shit and you put me on the couch. Better than staying on the floor."
A moment or two passes. "Do I seriously have to wait five fucking minutes for another piece of toast?" Maybe Billy will apologize for what he's saying while he's hangry.
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"I mean...I don't actually have any authority here." Eddie points out with a grin, "But if you want me to make it for you, then yeah. You're gonna wait five whole fucking minutes." There's a playfully challenging look directed at Billy.
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Instead of giving a smart retort, Billy throws his blanket over Eddie's head and sets down the vase on the coffee table before heading to the kitchen. "Fuck you, I'm not waiting for you to burn the house down to make toast." Ah, there's the snappy remark. He goes to the kitchen and fishes out another few pieces of bread. He eats at one while the other two toast. The stomach growls again, protesting the meager offerings but it's better than nothing.
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