the_freak | Dear Billy

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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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Eddie flips him off with an amused roll of his eyes, "Half my life," he corrects, not that it changes much, "Lived in Indy before the Old Man got himself in prison." Wasn't any more popular there.

His lips press into a thin line, not quite leaping to Steve's defense knowing their history, but he's definitely a bit cagey about the subject.

He nods. "Yeah, go for it. You're a mess dude."

"Different name, same shitshow," Billy points out, getting up. Though he honestly hasn't heard much when it comes to Indianapolis. He thought about riding out that way a couple of times, but never did. Who knows what his dad might've done.

Now he had some freedom it seems. All he's gotta do is get his name back to life and his car, and Billy will be good. If he notices Eddie's slight reaction to making fun of Harrington, it doesn't show on Billy's face, nor does he remark on it.

He heads out of the living room, footsteps quieter than when Hargrove pounded up them earlier. Stripping himself of his filthy clothing, he crouches into the tub and starts the water. And it takes awhile. Probably to the point that Eddie might think he's done something horrid to himself in there. It just takes a long time to get all of the dirt and blood off of his skin. His hair... the style can't really be saved. It's grown out, but it's matted to the point he can't do much with it. Conditioner helps some, but Billy knows what'll fix it, and it's a barber.

The water is cold by the time he's done, and the taps squeak when he shuts them off. He still crouches in the tub, shivering. The towel on the far wall gets snapped off and pulled around his thin figure as he savors its minimal warmth.

That- Eddie can't really deny, shrugging a shoulder. Big city versus small town, he was still a freak in both of them. And to a Cali boy he's sure Indy seem every bit as a small town as Hawkins.

He lounges while Billy's gone. Or tries to. He can't quite relax, especially not here, at least not when he's alone again. He keeps getting up to glance out the window and make sure no one or no thing is out there after them.

Billy's taking...a while.

Eddie tries not to dwell on it, but after a while he wanders half way up the stair, listening for- he's not sure what honestly. He finally hears the water shut off, and feels an embarrassing rush of relief.

"...you good in there?" he calls, "Need me to bring you anything?"

Billy startles when he hears Eddie's voice on the other side of the door. A hand claps up to the wall and knocks down a bottle of 2-n-1 shampoo and conditioner before his brain catches up. It's just Eddie. Only Eddie.

He set the bottle back on the little shelf and looks to the door. "I didn't bring clean clothes in here with me." A small pause, thinking. "I think my hair is fucked. I... can't get the tangles out." He finally stands and wraps the towel around his waist to cover himself, then sits on the tub's edge.

Eddie winces at the clatter, but can't take back startling him now. Maybe he can make a mental note to be a little less Eddie about things for a while. He goes to collect a few things from Rick's room, pausing outside the bathroom to assure, "Rick's gotta have scissors around here, if it comes to that."

He raps his knuckles on the door, opening it enough to pass his hand through with the clothes. "There's more to choose from, but one of these should fit," he offers.

At least being startled didn't cause a switch. Billy would be very confused and probably upset later if he woke up wearing clothes. He would more than likely think the worst of Eddie.

He hears the knock and sees the hand with the clothes. "You can come in, I've got a towel on for now." He does get up and retrieve the offered clothes and sets them on the counter for the moment. "You can probably see if my hair is salvageable or not." And without regular clothes hanging on him and dirt covering the rest of him, Billy is thin. It's clear he's not eaten regularly since Starcourt. There's a gnarled scar in the middle of his chest from that ordeal, and one on each of his sides. Marks from the Mind Flayer.

Eddie peers inside and then lets himself, trying to act casual. He hasn't done the locker room scene since they stopped making him go to gym, and even then, he was never the biggest fan. But jocks all seemed to be super casual about it from what Eddie could tell, especially given how quick they were to throw around accusations at anyone outside their inner circle.

"I can take a look," he agrees, gaze clearly distracted for a moment by Billy's body...by the scars. He flushes and clears his throat, fidgeting a little and gesturing for Billy to turn. "Let me uh...let me see," he prompts.

His fingers are a little tentative, but gentle as they try to see if he can work free any of the tangled matts. It feels intimate, and Eddie catches Billy's eye in the mirror, quick averting his gaze again. "...Probably have to cut some of it," he agrees, "I might be able to work a few more out."

During high school, Billy had no hold ups when it came to showing himself off. He had been proud of the way he looked, and as long as no one looked at each other's dicks in the locker room, everything was fine.

Even if Billy silently peeked when no one was looking towards him. Not that anyone would have tried to go toe-to-toe with Billy Hargrove. He turns for Eddie without complaint, leaning against the countertop while the other assesses the damage.

Blue eyes meet brown in the mirror, and both of them look away. The largest of the mats is in the middle, right at his neck. Others are far smaller, easier to work out by someone that can see what they're doing. "I... I mean..." God his voice is trembling slightly. It's just hair. "...It'll grow back if we have to cut it."

Eddie has the decency not to mention that tremble, though his fingers do pause for a moment, gaze lifting again before he nods, continuing to try his best to see what they could save. He knows what his own hair means to him, and suspects it must feel similar for Billy.

"They uh- they say it grows back faster...after a trim," he offers, "You'll still put the rest of us to shame."

If it was one thing they had in common, it was that their hair was their pride and joy. And he means 'they' as in Billy and Eddie. Hargrove likes the hair too. His appearance was one of the few things he got to choose around Neil, after a lot of fights. Physical fights, mental fights. He doesn't meet Eddie's gaze in the mirror again. He just stares off into space and tries not to think about how they'll have to cut his hair.

"I look like shit, Eddie," he admits softly. "Not gonna put anyone to shame looking like this." Billy gestures to his malnourished state, fingertips briefly dancing over the curves of his ribcage. "I look like the dead man I'm supposed to be."

"I mean...I wouldn't kick you outta bed," Eddie says with that playful smile, banking on his long history of being a weird flirt with everyone to protect him from Billy taking it too seriously. Though he knows he's still risking a pretty negative reaction to even the teasing suggestion.

Really though, Billy doesn't look like he did, no. But he still has those features that make Eddie want to fucking melt in a mess of confusing and very conflicting feelings.

Now that remark gets Billy to look into the mirror, but the gaze is unreadable. He knew Eddie wore the brand 'Freak' like a crown, but the two mostly stayed away from each other in school. But he doesn't react negatively. In fact, while he doesn't show it, Billy is surprised.

Didn't think anyone in this town swung like that.

Billy didn't tell anyone. Neil had his suspicions, so the blond made sure to throw him off the scent and just kept it completely hidden away by teh time they moved to Hawkins. It wasn't worth the beating or the social scandal.

"Guess I'll look like one of those jock shitheads after all. If we have to cut it." One hand goes up to run through the wild curls at the top and minding his hand away from the mat in the back. "You any good with scissors? If... you're wanted for murder and I'm dead, probably not a good idea for us to find a barber shop."

It's not any of the reactions Eddie expects, and he worries for a moment that Billy thinks he serious. Which he is, but people aren't supposed to know that. People like Billy ~freaking~ Hargrove aren't supposed to know.

There's a brief moment of panic, which he hides surprisingly well, cheeks a bit tinged and eyes a bit wide, but nothing too out of character.

He pointedly gives the ends of his own curls a little toss with his finger tips, and gives an amused shrug. "I cut my own," he says, not sure if Billy considers that good or not, but it's cheaper, and Eddie think it looks all right. "And you are one of those jock shitheads, aren't you?"

You'll have to forgive him, Eddie. He's been through a lot of nothing the past few months. He just watches the other for a long moment as his mind stutters to catch up.

It doesn't mean anything, right? Eddie was a freak, a weirdo. This was just normal for him. To point it out would be noting out loud how the sky was blue.

"Just because I can one-up any dick on the court doesn't make me a jock. I'm a car guy that just happens to stomp the competition in sports too." He turns his head to observe Eddie's own style.

"I don't have a lot of options. It's either you or me that cuts it and you'll have the better angle. Rick got a razor in here?"

"You can like two things," Eddie mutters, rolling his eyes with a small smirk. Sure, Billy wasn't as clean cut as most of the jocks round here, but he has that same competitive energy they all seem to have on and off the field, or court, or wherever they do their stupid game. "Hawkins doesn't have car guys, you're gonna get lumped in with the jocks whether you like it or not. And you should be glad. If it weren't for those baby blues and your ability to throw a ball. your taste in music woulda got you labeled a freak."

He nods, reaching past Billy to flip open the medicine cabinet. "Somewhere in here I think."

Billy could act and look clean cut if he wanted to, but he was far from the truth. His car was too loud, his music even louder, and the only goody two shoes he got up to was keeping his grades good.

Eddie gets an eyeroll. "Hawkins does have a car guy. It's me, dipshit." But there's no malice in the insult. Hard to be insulting to the one that's about to have a razor or scissors at your hair. Billy leans to the side so the cabinet can be opened. He sees the razor and nabs it before handing it back. "I'll try not to flinch but I'm not making promises."

"One car guy," Eddie allows, with a dramatic roll of his eyes in turn, "No one to...car with." The hell did car guys actually do?? Still, Eddie's point is clear enough. Like any small town, Hawkins has a limited number of highschool social classes to fall into, and didn't typically embrace people who tried to shake that up. Again, unless they had pretty blue eyes.

Eddie takes it, looking a little hesitant. "You sure you don't want scissors?" he asks, but nods, "I'll keep it as long as I can."

"I don't see any in here," he remarks, looking around again. "Might be some down in the cupboard," which he kicks the door next to his foot for emphasis. "Hang on-"

Billy moves, going to sit on the edge of the tub with his feet in it. Behind him on the floor is the bathmat. "Clean up will be easier. I'm fucking tired, I'm not going to want to clean up my hair afterwards." Not even sure if he could stomach it. His car and his hair were his pride and joys, and now both were about to be gone.

"...Do it. Just get it over with."

Billy's tone doesn't leave much room for argument, and Eddie presses his lips together, nodding faintly. He directs Billy to look down with a guiding touch, begins working, his own brows twisted up like it's his hair he's hacking away.

"You know...when I first came here, I had a full buzzed head," he offers, hoping to bring a smile, or at least lighten some of the tension as hair began to fall. "Nooot a good look."

One of the most effective threats Neil ever made to him was cutting off his son's hair. There were some times he had, most other times Neil only came close. And now here Billy was, willingly letting it be cut off to fix it. Eddie almost doesn't need to guide that head to tip forward.

He feels broken. From being abandoned in the dark for so long, to looking like a twig could break him, to now this. Having his golden curls cropped from his head.

A tear streaks down his cheek before he can stop it.

Eddie's voice cuts through the noise in his head. He sniffs hard, keeping still. "I find that shit hard to believe, Eddie," comes the quiet reply. "Someone stick gum in it or some shit and you had to get it out?"

He tries to work quickly but gently, not wanting to prolong what seems to be an emotional moment.

"Nah," Eddie gives a small laugh. Honestly, he wishes it was something like that, something comparably small that he might look back on and laugh about.

"It's was uh- the Old Man," he reveals, trying to sound casual about it. He doesn't realize quite how much their father's seem to have in common. "He never liked it, and we had a fight..." He shrugs a shoulder, "But uh...my Uncle Wayne. He's great, he never-...he let me do whatever I wanted with it since then."

Billy stays absolutely still. As close to the corpse he's supposed to be as he can. At least Eddie hasn't seemed to notice how the blond is reacting to a haircut.

Old Man? Oh, Eddie's dad. He keeps his questions quiet, and lets the other speak while trimming out the mats. It's the shortest it's been since he was a kid. Whoever the Uncle Wayne was for Eddie sounded like a good guy. Maybe that's what his mom would've been like if she had stuck around. "My appearance was really the only thing I got to choose."

Almost everything else was inherited from Neil.

"Live with your uncle I guess?" It wasn't too much of a leap with the current conversation.

"Well, you chose pretty good, I'll give you that," Eddie offers with a cheeky grin, though he frowns a little as he considers what that said about the rest of Billy's life.

Eddie pauses to work free a few more tangles he thinks he can save, humming softly. "Mmmhmm. Dunno how he put up with me for so long, but- heh- glad he did." He misses him. Wishes more than anything that none of this had hurt Wayne like it has.

He can't see the grin, but he can hear it as Eddie works. All Billy wants to do is curl up and sleep for awhile, like he seems to do usually. Despite sleeping, he always wakes up tired, and it makes no sense. He doesn't realize he's not actually sleeping but is put under temporarily while Hargrove runs things.

Billy scoffs with his amusement. "Don't know how anyone puts up with you for so long." But yet, here he was, putting up with Eddie while the freak cut mats and detangled his hair. Sitting on the edge of a tub in nothing but a towel, showing off more bones than style.

He hates this. At least he's free now.

"After you're done I should try to eat again."

He laughs again. "Well no one really does apart from Wayne," he dismisses, though there's a few who have hung in longer than he expected, and his new batch of friends might be trauma bonded to him. "I'm shocked you haven't run off yet."

"That's the worst of it out now," Eddie says, brushing the hair away from the nape of Billy's neck. It needs evening out, and the skill of hands more talented than Eddie's, but he can comb his fingers through it now.

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