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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'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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"...M'not going anywhere," he promises, though he does shift to sit a little more comfortably. "I've got you."
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"They left me down there. I kept waking up in different places in the lab, like I was trying to find someone... anyone while I slept," though he didn't realize the real reason was Hargrove taking the reins. "They locked me in the lab, Eddie. I don't understand why. They left me. She left me too."
She.
Billy tries not to let his mind dwell on her too much. Instead, he starts relaxing, with fingers unclenching out of Eddie's jacket.
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"I'm sorry. I don't know what happened, but I'm sorry."
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"Didn't mean to scream. Or wake you up if you were sleeping." A glance around. "...What time is it? 'M hungry again."
Fighting in his sleep and waking up with his own screaming took a lot out of his already battered body. "...No more toast though."
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That prompts a small snort of laughter, and Eddie rolls his eyes almost fondly. "Of course you are," he mutters, "Come on, get up. I'll see what I can find. You just try and relax."
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He frowns at the laugh and eye roll, but does get up when prompted to head towards the kitchen. "Not my fault I'm fucking starving, he says, giving Eddie a push. It's difficult to say if it's jesting or actually mean or not.
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"What, is it mine because I wouldn't let you make yourself sick on toast?" Eddie asks, following after his stubborn house mate with an amused smile, not all that bothered by the pushing or the harsh tones. "I said I'd make it, where are you going?"
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"What did you even plan on making anyways?" To Billy, Eddie didn't look like much of a cook. But he was hungry, so he'd eat almost anything right now. Sitting there on the counter he looks less hollow at least. Less of a shade of the young man that stomped about Hawkins High.
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"Spaghettios sound fine." He could eat the little pasta rings and a little of the sauce. Maybe some aspirin on the side. He leans over to the sink to grab a glass and fill it with water to take a drink.
His head thobs, but it lessens as he drains the liquid. "I’ve woken up with a headache before but this one hurts. Did you hit me or something?"
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"About what? I already said Spaghettios were fine to eat." Another wince and this time he holds his head. Fuck. "No— don’t want to sleep right now—"
Apparently Hargrove was interested in this conversation Eddie wants to have.
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"...do you need to lay down?"
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"...Maybe?" Billy slides off of the counter and goes to sit at the table despite what he said. "Don’t want to though. What do you need to tell me?" Better to try and hold onto his consciousness while he could and have the conversation.
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"When you uh-....when you lose time like that...you change-" he starts.
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But then Eddie's answering, saying that Billy changes. Billy stares at him, then laughs. "What're you talking about? I change? This isn't your stupid board game, I'm not something like a werewolf, Eddie."
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Before his head can hit the table, he's up, grabbing Munson out of his and throwing him down on the floor. "What the fuck are you doing?!" He heaves a little for breath, looking furiously down at the other.
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"He's knows something's going on, what the hell am I supposed to do?! Tell him it's totally normal to keep passing out and losing chunks of time??" he counters, scooting back and leveling a challenging look at the other.
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It's tempting to swing his foot into Eddie's side, but he holds back. Eddie is trying to help after all. "They'll fucking lock us up in that mental hospital outside of town and it'll be like the God damn lab again!"
He leans down and grips Eddie by the collar and gives a little shake. He almost... looks desperate. "I have to keep him safe, Munson. We can't go back into the dark again."
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"Nnn-" Eddie tries to grasp Hargrove's wrist to stop him from rattling his brains out. "Fine," he hisses, "I won't tell him. The hell do you think I'm trying to do, Hargrove? I don't want any of us getting snatched up."
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When he speaks again, it's still got a hardness to it, but it's softer. "I don't want him to be scared. I think this'll scare him and he's been through so much already Munson. I have to keep protecting him," which probably explained why Hargrove seemed to take over when a threat was present.
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"He's all ready scared," he argues, but sighs, and nods. "...how am I supposed to explain this?" he asks, motioning pointedly to the position they're in?
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He looks away, brows furrowed. "I can feel it so much more when he's scared. When it gets too much..." Hargrove switches their places. Hands leave and he backs off to give Munson space. The Spaghettios bubble on the stove.
He goes to stir it. Ignores the headache that he's aware of now that this thing with Munson is nearly passed. "...I don't know what to do."
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