Chapter Text
His head hurts.
As soon as Billy opens his eyes, he realizes this place is unfamiliar.
The lighting is dull, making it hard to see. He tilts his head to the right only to end up looking at the IV looming over him.
Something moves.
Billy’s head snaps to the left. Max and Harrington are staring right at him.
Harrington?
“Billy?” Max asks, tentatively. She leans forward in her chair a little, like she’s trying to get a better look at him.
“Water.” He says weakly, because fuck, he’s so thirsty, it’s overwhelming. Why is he so thirsty?
“I got it.” Harrington says, and scrams. Billy watches him go, not understanding why it’s taking him so long to know where he is. It’s on the tip of his tongue.
Neil would call him an idiot, and the word bounces around in Billy’s head. He is, he is, he is.
Max is still looking at him, like she’s trying to read his mind. He tries to think of something to say, but his head still fucking hurts and he’s an idiot.
“Where ‘m I?” Billy manages to rasp out. He can’t help grimacing once he starts realizing the dull ache throughout the rest of his body.
“The hospital.” Max answers, as if she’d been asked the same question at least a hundred times today.
That’s what it’s called.
His throat hurts too much and he doesn’t really know what else to ask so he just murmurs out a soft “Okay. My bad.” because he’s sorry, and looks back at the IV. He misses the look of utter confusion on Max’s face.
“Uh, it’s okay.”
Silence takes up the room. Billy feels like he’s slid down so far down the bed he might fall off. He lifts his hands to put them on the rails, only to see his right ring and pinky finger in a wrapped up splint. He can’t help but stare at them a while. Those fingers had been broken by Neil and healed wrong long ago.
Eventually, sliding a little further down the bed reminds him about his idea. He braces his hands on the rails. There’s a soft “Uh, wait-” from his left but he tries to pull himself up anyway, and it feels like his entire chest and back lights on fire.
Billy can’t breathe, and there’s something wrong, really fucking wrong, what the fuck is going on-
He falls back against the bed, gasping for air. It feels like the shadow’s right there again, like he’s in the passenger seat of his own brain and his crashing car all over again and he doesn’t have control over what to do, what does he fucking do-
“Billy, breathe. It’s gonna be okay.” Max says, panicked. She’s pried his left hand off of the rail and put it in her own, and he pulls away once he realizes it.
“I don’t wanna hurt y-ou,” He sobs, “not you too. Pl-ease, not you too.” and he cries harder because he’s such a baby. Crying is for pussies, but he doesn’t know how to stop anything of what he’s doing wrong.
Billy cries harder when people he doesn’t know come through the door, and he fights and screams until they hold him down and sedate him.
When Billy wakes up, Harrington is sitting in one of the chairs next to his bed. He’s cramped in it, trying to be as close to the only light as possible. There’s a book in his hands, brought up near his face. Billy watches him for a while, feeling too tired to talk. He wouldn’t know what to say anyway.
Harrington pulls the book away from his face after a while, craning his head to look right at Billy. He squints a little.
“Wh-at?” Billy wonders out loud, unable to keep his curiosity to himself. He wants to know what’s so fucking wrong with him, why everyone keeps looking at him like that.
“I didn’t know whether you were actually awake, or just kind of there. It’s happened before.” Harrington swipes something off the bedside table, before standing up and holding it near Billy’s face. It’s a paper cup full of water, with a straw in it. As soon as Billy tries to grab it, he gently pulls it out of his reach. “I know it’s weird, but just let me hold it. You spilled it over yourself the last time.” He says, and puts it back out again for Billy to drink once his hands go back down.
Harrington doesn’t let him drink too much, eventually setting the cup back down on the table and sitting down.
“..Max?” Billy asks, eyes drifting to the chair she was in.
“I drove her home. I stay overnight when I have nothing better to do, because you’ve kind of freaked out on the doctors when you find out you’re alone.” Harrington responds, nonchalantly. It’s similar to how Max was talking, as if he’d answered the question plenty of times before.
“You’ve been here for two weeks.” He continues, his tone softer. “I don’t know if you remember what happened, but I’m not sure it’s a good idea for me to tell you the ‘why’ right now. A lot of your ribs were broken, you lost blood, and some other stuff. They also found a bunch of other things that never got treated right, like your fingers. I don’t know any of the other things you have because I’m really, really bad at scientific names and I’m only really doing this for Max.”
Billy stares for a while before nodding. “Thanks.” He murmurs hoarsely, looking down at the book that’s back in Harrington’s hand. It’s called Advanced Dungeons & Dragons, and Billy remembers all of Max’s little friends suddenly.
He remembers how scared and pissed they all looked in the locker rooms. Billy couldn’t honestly be upset about it. He slumps further down into the bed as he stares at the book, and wishes he hadn’t survived any of his close brushes with death.