fuckboyofhawkins: (Default)
[Cont from https://bakerstreet.dreamwidth.org/5869656.html?thread=2561564504#cmt2561564504]

Billy rolled his eyes at the text before tossing his phone into the passenger seat. He drove to the Harrington house, pulling up outside and parking next to the driveway. He slid a cigarette between his lips, lighting it and grabbing his phone before he started around the back of the house. He rounded the corner, smirking when he saw Steve sitting at the edge of the pool with his legs dipped in.

"Almost tempted to push you in. Just to get you all nice and wet." He teased as he called out, licking his lips before taking another drag off his cigarette. He hummed softly, kicking off his shoes as he walked closer. He was in jeans and a wife beater, but he tugged on his belt with a chuckle. "Gonna need to use a bathroom to change." He pulled his swim trunks out of his back pocket and swinging it in front of him. "Unless you'd rather I just change right here." He waved around, walking closer and nudging Steve lightly with his foot.

He took another drag, slowly exhaling before he spotted the bottle of liquor he'd asked Steve about, moving over and snagging it. He smiled wide, opening it and taking a long swig. He hummed, tilting his head back.
fuckboyofhawkins: (Default)
Its been a week and a half since Billy appeared outside Steve's window and made it known that he was alive. Steve had been quick to reach the Byers the day after he'd shown up, explaining as much as he could before pulling Billy on the phone with El.

They'd talked for hours. Longer than Billy thought he'd talked to anyone else. Ever.

Along the way he'd asked to see his sister, but at every mention of it Steve stopped him. 'Its for her safety' he would say. 'Or for your own' was another he would used.

Needless to say, he wasn't happy about it. He was starting to get antsy. To get cabin fever. To freak out.

Until El and Will finally told him it was okay. That there was nothing left of the actual Mind Flayer inside him. Well, nothing dangerous anyways. His powers were connected, yes, but it wasn't anything they thought would be bad.

Still, he'd insisted El call Max. "Please just...I can't. I can't just call. Please get her over here." He said, chewing on his lip as he watched her call.

And then after that? He'd been a nervous fucking wreck. He paced the living room and the hall, up the stairs to Steve's room to look out the window and back down.

"Fuck I can't do this!"
fuckboyofhawkins: (Bloody knuckles)
Billy had been dead for six months. At least, that is what everyone thought. Thing is, after the kids had been taken out of Starcourt Mall, supposedly Billy's body just...vanished. No explanation. They'd had a memorial for him properly but still, something wasn't quite right. Even so, it was written off as yet another mystery and left alone.

What no on realized was that not all of the Russians had been captured. A good few of them made it out and along the way they'd grabbed Billy's body. They wanted to examine it more closely, determined to figure out what the deal was with the black blood that had poured from his wounds and his mouth. They had taken him to yet another secret base of operations in the middle of nowhere, ran plenty of experiments. In the end, they'd dubbed it 'Project Lazarus' because after yet another round of experiments, they'd actually ended up bringing Billy back to life.

At first, he'd been nothing but a husk. No memories of who he was or where he'd come from. The Russians were pleased with that, working on seeing what he could do. They discovered he had all these special abilities now. The same abilities as Eleven. Months passed and he started remembering, learning that the scientists didn't like that so he kept the memories to himself.

Until finally, he remembered his name. Billy Hargrove.

It was easy breaking out when everyone there was terrified of his abilities. He'd practically brought the whole place down around him. Once outside, he started walking. Hours later, he'd found a town, figured out where he was and where he needed to go. He'd broken into a house and stolen some clothes.

Now, it was the middle of December and here he was, walking in a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants with sandals as the only shoes he'd found. The night after Christmas he found himself standing outside Steve Harrington's house, staring into the other teen's window. He was dirty, freezing, starving. He'd been walking for almost two weeks. He had no clue how long he'd been gone or what had happened since. He just needed to get someone's attention.

So he knocked on the window, still staring at Steve.

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Billy Hargrove

July 2019

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