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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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.

"Where would I go? I'm dead," he reminds Eddie, doing his best not to throw a scowl over his shoulder. "I'm dead and was locked away in an abandoned lab for months and it seems like you're the only person that's okay with any of this."

Probably because he knew the shit that Billy went through. Or at least understood it enough to know that the blond really wasn't making it up at all.

He feels the fingers combing through his hair, and lifts his own hands to mimic the movement. Fingers brush over Eddie's, but he doesn't react to it. Not outwardly.

Snipped hairs fall down to the bathmat and into the tub as well before he's getting up to shake the rest out. "Don't know if I should eat or sleep. Starving but I'm tired, too."

Switching who was in charge of the body was probably exhausting him.

Eddie withdraws his hands, glancing away with a cough, and he moves to give Billy a bit of space.

"Why don't you try and sleep for a bit? You've got a bit of food in you. Let your body work through some of it before you over load yourself," he reasons, "Whenever you wake up there's always more."

More food. Well, probably more toast. Sleep sounds good though, so Eddie gets a nod. "I'll go sleep on the couch. At least." So Eddie would be closer in case something happened, and the sound of the television would help him fall asleep.

Getting dressed quickly - he doesn't care if Eddie sticks around for it - Billy heads back downstairs. He gathers the blanket he had to throw over himself after laying down. The couch isn’t the comfiest he’s ever slept on, but it wasn’t the lab. The television is on, now with some weather program happening. It pulls Billy into sleep.

And he gets a couple of hours in. It’s quiet and his brain is at peace. Then the nightmares set in.

Dead people. Dead because of him. The creature in the mall. Max. The Camaro smashed. Rats, rats everywhere, crawling on him. He shifts in sleep, fighting against the blanket before the shifts turn into kicks. It escalates until he rolls off the couch. And it’s not… clear who’s in charge. What is clear is Billy screaming, putting his head in his hands as he struggles between being Billy, or Hargrove.

He's made the bed up, but Eddie doesn't argue. If that's what Billy wants. So long as he sleeps. The guy looks like he hasn't gotten a proper nights sleep since Star Court.

Eddie averts his gaze and pushes off to head downstairs with a muttered excuse. And while Billy sleeps Eddie sits in one of the arm chairs, reading through magazines before his own exhaustion takes hold and he drifts off himself.

He awakes with a start at the sound of screaming, heart jumping to his throat and blood draining from his face and fear seizing him. He half falls out of the chair in his attempt to get to Billy. Or Hargrove. Whichever of them is screaming bloody murder.

"Hey- Hey shh- shh- you're all right- you're all right-" Eddie tries to soothe, down on his knees with him and attempting to pull him into a hug without really thinking about who he was dealing with. Though at least if he's busy punching him he might stop screaming...

By this point, Billy’s curled up on himself, pressed against the couch. God his head hurts, feeling like it was actually being split down the middle now.

Then he feels something grip his shoulders, his arms, pulling him into an embrace. And that scares him more and for a minute he fights against Eddie. Then the soothing gets past his own screaming, and that’s when he realizes it’s Eddie. Not Vecna, not anyone else. Hands whip up behind Eddie to hold onto him tight, with fingernails digging into the cloth of his shirt.

"…fuck. It hurts— my head hurts—" That sounds like Billy even if it feels like Hargrove holding onto him. The screaming stops and he chokes out a sob. God his voice is already hoarse. "The rats— so many— the mall—"

The desperate return of that embrace surprises Eddie more than the fighting, and he momentarily freezes up before the need to soothe overrides his own shock.

"Shh- breathe, okay? Just breathe. You're here. No rats. No mall. You're right here. Shh-"

He keeps talking about the mall, the rats, with pleas of not going back to the lab peppered in. It has to be Billy in charge, there was no way Hargrove would show such vulnerability like this. But he clings to Eddie tight, not caring if it hurts the other.

The other is real, he’s here, and not a figment of his imagination or anything. Breathe. He needs to breathe.

Those first breaths are quick and short. Like he’s about to hyperventilate. Then he hears Eddie’s since he’s so close, he feels it and tries to match it. Gradually his breathing slows to something more normal, but still Billy holds tight to the other.

"You're not going back. You're here. You're safe," Eddie assures, repeating those phrases and tentatively bring his fingers up to comb through Billy's (?) curls like he remembers his own mother used to do for him when he was little.

"Good. You're doing so good. Just like that."

Not going back. He's not going back. He's not going to be trapped down in the dark anymore. And damnit, he's sobbing, the fear still ebbing through him like he's still down there, but he's not. He's not. He's here in Eddie's supplier's house, a hand in his hair while Billy himself holds onto Eddie like a flotation device in a storm.

He's fucking scared and that's still such a new feeling. Billy hates it.

He finally shudders through the last of it all, wrecked but breathing better. "Don't... don't leave me."

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