ic inbox.

[heatmetal]

[ his voicemail greeting is just a guitar riff ]

Comments

[camarod]

You ever get tested for ADHD back home, man?

[a beat.] I get it, schools fucking boring. You coulda dropped out, E. Did something else.

[heatmetal]

No. [ he sounds vaguely confused about it. like the idea has never crossed his mind. and it hasn't. eddie's just... dumb and disruptive. bad influence. whatever. ]

... I wanted to walk the stage. Dumb as it is, that was like... my thing. [ a beat. ] My old man dropped out early. Really wanted me to, too, so I could help him run his cons. It was supposed to be like, symbolic. A big show I'd changed my path and I wasn't gonna be like him.

[camarod]

You should. 'Sides, even if you aren't, Adderall's fucking great.

[ahem. ] It's not dumb. It just sounds like a shitton of pressure to put on yourself.

[a beat. he looks pensive, a little lost. ] You still want it, if you go back?

[heatmetal]

Maybe. [ he considers. it... might be good. figure out why he gets the way he does, before he does something stupid. so he can be useful to steve. ]

And... I dunno. It'd make my uncle happy, but there's noooo way in hell I'd salvage '86. And if I have to waste another fucking year of my life in Hawkins high, I'll blow my brains out.

[camarod]

I'm a shit tutor, but we can make it work.

[he's good at helping girls just long enough to get into their pants, is the thing. it's like, performative patience, and it's not like he's gonna get into Eddie's pants, ever. so. you know. ]

What's your worst subject.

[heatmetal]

Uhh... English. And Science.

[camarod]

Yeah, we can work with that.

[heatmetal]

Dude, you're gonna wanna strangle me. I am, and I quote from many a teacher, unteachable.

[camarod]

I might have to change my motivation method here, but no one's fucking unteachable, E. Except maybe Steve about good music.

text.

[camarod]

yo can i call in 10?

text.

[heatmetal]

[ hm.

billy doesn't usually ask to call. eddie's sleep mussed but mostly sober, sitting up from a late afternoon nap. ]

Sure.
Its just me here right now.

[ in case its something sensitive and he needs the assurance. ]

[camarod]

cool thanks

[a beat, then, a few minutes after:]

actually can i stop by?

[heatmetal]

sure
but i'm not showering

[camarod]

do you ever dude

[it’s a 40 minute wait, mostly because Billy does shower, does soft curl his hair, does do all the little rituals that make him feel human.

he takes the bike. he packs some cigarettes. he does everything that makes him feel grounded before he has to navigate trying to be vulnerable.

he figures it’s just me means Eddie’s place rather than Steve’s, and feels a little better for it.]

Hey, [is what Eddie gets when he arrives, rather than you coulda at least used some Axe. ]

[heatmetal]

[ he has in fact used some axe. And a little dry shampoo. Making himself appear halfway presentable despite inclinations to stay flopped in bed and ride another body high.

But Billy's not roasting him from the get-go and that probably means something's off. ]

Hey, man. Everything good?

[camarod]

Yeah - yeah I’m -

[freaking out? yeah, maybe. he feels unmoored; feels exhausted. the way he collapses onto Eddie’s bed without so much as a dry remark about their cleanliness says more than he could, probably.

he stares at the ceiling, fingers twitching at his side.] I feel kind of crazy.

[his teeth are grinding in between sentences. ] I didn’t - didn’t wanna tell either of you about this stupid, fucking thing. But it’s gonna take too long to figure out how to suppress it and it’s getting worse.

[he’s unblinking. ] Sorry. I should’ve called instead, because it’s like - I don’t know if I’m dangerous, E.

[heatmetal]

[ he feels his mouth run dry, big doe eyes suddenly wide and fearful.

not of billy. For billy.

He's crossing the room, kneeling down in front of him to take a hand. ]

Hey, hey, hey. You're not dangerous, B
What's going on? Is - is it Vecna, are you getting visions?

[camarod]

[the ceiling is sort of monotonous: there’s nothing to count, or to become cross-eyed with. just white paint splayed wide, corner to corner. for a second he thinks the white is hurting his eyes, but no it’s -

it’s the warmth of Eddie’s hand on his that his eyes stinging. it’s the pure, sweet kindness of Eddie Munson that has his eyes wet, has his throat thick with grief. he should tell him not to touch - should scream it, in fact. because here is the truth of it: there is something inside Billy that wants to crawl out of the tender flesh of his scar tissue. he can feel it, how the silver-violet patches burn black when Eddie and Steve are close, how they come alive with sensation and how every neuron of his brain screams at him to crawl inside them and make them - make them what? his?

it’s not the same as wanting them. it’s not the same thing as closing his eyes and thinking of how Steve would kiss him, or how Eddie might have broken him. it’s worse, somehow. it’s primal and terrifying.

he squeezes Eddie’s hand and lolls his head to look at him, glassy eyed and terrified. ] No - no it’s me.

[that’s worse, isn’t it? that the power he got feels so much like how it felt when Vecna was connecting him to Heather, to her parents, to all those people. how sometimes he misses the unity in his head, how that weakness is only making this worse.

he should tell Eddie not to touch him. he doesn’t. ] Sorry - fuck. It’s - I lied. About my power. Because I wasn’t sure, at first? But it’s getting worse, I think. It’s like sometimes I’m okay, and sometimes this thing wants to reach out and, I don’t know. Connect? But it feels like how it did then, when it was him - but this time it’s me. It’s me, E.

[maybe it was him then too. ] I want to crawl inside your head, Eddie. The scars are fucking burning, sometimes it hurts.

[heatmetal]

[ he hates this supernatural shit. hates it, hates it, hates it. feels his hand start to recoil from billy's at the confession, feels his feet burn with the need to run. but...

but he can't.

he licks his lips. squeezing billy's hand. grounding them both. ]

Okay.... okay. [ his voice wavers a little. he'd rather run. ] When you wanna reach out - are -- do you want to hurt people, or just connect?

[camarod]

I don’t wanna hurt anyone, E. [it’s not uncertain because he isn’t sure about this, specially. his voice wavers because sure, he doesn’t want to hurt anyone now - but what if he does hurt someone? what if he destroys all trace of them, the way Vecna had?

does it even matter what Billy wants? ]

But I don’t know if I could stop myself?

[heatmetal]

[ yeah... yeah.

eddie licks his lips, looking back up into his friend's bright blue eyes.

it occurs to him that this might be what they need. that billy could be the key to saving all of those who fell victim to vecna. a means to connect to them, to anchor them to reality and safety. ]

Okay. [ okay. okay. okay. ] B, I trust you, man. If you wanted to hurt me, you would've done it by now. So... Try me.

[camarod]

Eddie.

[he tries for firm, even pulls his hand away, tries to recoil. it just comes out weak, a little broken. ]

No. Absolutely fucking not.

[his arm is searing, though, along with his chest, his back, his hips. that conscious desire to pull Eddie in, to anchor him to the already fragile pieces of his own psyche. ]

[heatmetal]

Billy.

[ his voice is gentle, but firm. ]

You're not Vecna.

[ and if it is vecna, then - then they'll know. and he can tell steve. but he's not going to drop that little fear. he's just going to hold tighter to his hand. ]

[camarod]

[few people have seen Billy truly terrified. only his father and Eleven have seen it up close. but he is, now, quite terrified of himself.

it takes him a moment: he’s quiet, he doesn’t know what to say, really, while he contemplates the danger of this. how easily Eddie assumes he knows that Billy is good, that Billy is himself. he wants to argue until he’s out of breath, because Billy wasn’t even good before Vecna had control of him.

he’s not even very good now.

maybe that’s why he slides his jacket off. why he is turns enough to show the scar on his arm, the way it’s slightly darker than it should be. why he takes Eddie’s hand to feel the heat of it, the way it thrums a little like a heart beat, and then how something under the skin seems to seep out into Eddie’s palm, then dissipates.

the connection is a strange thing, even for Billy. for a moment he’s seeing double, can hear his own heart in his ears, can feel his own anxiety - and then it’s a lot more. it’s noise, it’s like having Eddie so close he’s nestled somewhere in his chest. it’s overwhelmingly good, like Billy’s been alone his entire life and finally, finally someone’s come along and said his name.

Billy’s head is noisy on its own. his emotions are chaotic things, they’re turbulent, they’re messy. it takes a minute for him to distinguish them from Eddie’s, to pull them back in. except, when he does, he’s looking at himself, just for a second, before he’s back to looking at Eddie, wide eyed and slightly awed. ]

[heatmetal]

[ it takes a lot not to scream. eddie's heart is hammering frantically in his chest, the urge to run so strong he feels himself shaking. but he ran once. he ran hard, and fast, and chrissy cunningham died a lonely death.

he won't allow it to happen again.

it's a lot. all at once. sudden connection that he can't explain. being linked to billy in a way that goes beyond this physical contact. it's more intimate. he presses his lips together in a thin line, uncertain as to exactly what has occurred. ]

You okay, big guy?