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The Upside Down was an unforgiving place. That was the first lesson that Billy Hargrove had learnt after he had woken up in the field where the Starcourt Mall had been. His wounds were healed, the blood was still caked onto him, but he wasn’t hurt. He also wasn’t possessed anymore. Both of those things should’ve made him happy, yet he wasn’t. The world had moved passed him so easily, not even his friends – if he could call those assholes friends – had noticed that something else had taken him from his body.
The first few days he spent there were the hardest, or he thought they were, he couldn’t remember much. His mind and memories were still coming back to him, but he got by. His father had conditioned him to be strong and the years he was raised by the man made him resilient to almost anything. Food was scarce but canned goods kept a long enough shelf life that he knew he didn’t have to worry anytime soon.
Eventually, he began to learn how to navigate the everchanging surroundings. The Upside Down was unpredictable; the environment was constantly changing as if it was trying to kill him. But it hadn’t, and Billy took that as a sign that some higher power wanted him alive (although he wasn’t sure if his survival was a means of a punishment. Neil always did say that men like him would end up in Hell). The unpredictable nature of the Upside Down was the second, and arguably the most important, lesson Billy learnt. So, in hindsight, he really shouldn’t have been surprised to see his old drug dealer half dead with those god-forsaken bats leeching off of him.
And he shouldn’t be surprised, he really shouldn’t. But the thought of the little shits which his sister calls friends roping Eddie fucking Munson into their creepy monster hunting group is hilarious. So much so, that instead of moving to help him, Billy laughs. He laughs for the first time in nearly a year. He had forgotten what it felt like to feel so light, as if there wasn’t something lurking around every corner trying to maim or kill him. Eddie’s painful groan brought him back to reality and he knew that if the freak had any chance of survival, it was on him.
Quickly, he gathered the man in his arms the best he could carried (well half carried/half dragged) him into the nearest house. The weather was far too unpredictable to properly treat him outside for long. Most of the houses were either desolate or in ruins but occasionally did they host some useful supplies. The further away from Hawkins you went, the more you could find. Billy had learnt that when he attempted to go back to California, but he had turned back around the hundred-mile mark. He wanted to see his home for what it was and not in some sick and twisted Hell dimension.
He managed to position Eddie on the sofa, using some half-rotted curtains as a tourniquet to stop the gushing wound on his neck. He, between his own sips, sterilised the wound using the whiskey he found stashed away under a cabinet. Lastly, he found some old blanket and covered him to retain some warmth before he moved himself to the worn-down La-Z-Boy across from the sofa to finally get some rest.
Daybreak came far too quickly. For the first time in seemingly forever, Billy had slept the night without being disturbed by the images of his past coming back to haunt him. He wasn’t sure if it was the company or the newfound hope of leaving this place which Eddie brought but he sure as Hell wasn’t complaining. The morning brought its own challenges, such as finding a way to make sure Munson would heal well enough to survive without Billy looking out for him – not that he minded as much as he would’ve a year ago – but Billy couldn’t keep them both alive for long.
“You’re not Henderson.” Eddie’s voice broke through the silence which had engrossed Billy’s life since he arrived here himself.
Billy looked up at him again, voice scratchy from months of inactivity. “You look like shit.”
He wasn’t wrong, the freak did look like shit. His hair was matted with dried blood and his clothes were torn apart. He looked like he lost a fight to a wild animal, which, now that he considers, it quite close to the truth.
“Still a charmer I see.” Eddie went to sit up but was blocked by Billy not-so-gently pushing him back into the sofa cushions. “Hey, let me up.”
“Not yet, you need to heal. Found you on deaths door. You should be happy I chose to save you.”
“What can I say, I’m irresistible.”
And it was something about the way he said it that made Billy laugh for the second time. Irresistible. That was one word for him. Maybe if they had been closer on the Rightside Up than Billy would have learnt that for himself. But now wasn’t the time to focus on what could’ve been. It was the third lesson that Billy had learnt: dwelling on the past won’t do him any good. If anything, it made him even more miserable, but he couldn’t help but indulge himself this time.
“Cat got your tongue, Hargrove?”
Billy shook his head as he moved to rip more of the curtain into bandages. “Trust me, I’ve resisted much worse than you.”
The silence filled the room again, but unlike all the days Billy had spent alone, this silence was warm and comforting. As if he was once more wrapped in the blanket his mother had made for him for those chilly winter nights. Eddie had seemed to drift off into his own world leaving Billy to his thoughts.
The following days somewhat passed the same with Billy tending to Eddie’s wounds, making sure they were properly dressed and miraculously avoiding infection. In return, Eddie would tell him about what had happened in Hawkins since Independence Day. He focussed on the more insignificant details, not wanting to recount his time with the party trying to defeat Vecna. Billy didn’t mind too much, he wanted to know everything that had occurred. And when he learnt that Neil had left Hawkins and that Max no longer had to live in fear of his father, he felt as if a weight had been taken from his shoulders.
At his request, Eddie spoke of Max often. He had always thought that the Hargrove boy had hated his stepsister, but as they spoke and he watched Billy’s eyes light up when he heard of how she was passing her classes and had learnt how to do that skateboarding trick she had been stuck on for two years, Eddie had to reconsider how he perceived the man. There was more to him than he let anyone see, a gentleness which had been buried underneath years of abuse and trauma.
“You know, I think she’d be proud to see the person you’re becoming.” Eddie piped up one day as they shared a cold Spaghetti-O’s can, neither having the appetite to have one to themselves.
Billy scoffed. “Bullshit.”
“She really does miss you. So does her mother, I think.” He placed the can down on the floor before turning to make eye contact with Billy, only juts aware of how close they were sitting to each other. “You’re lucky, man. All I ever had was Wayne; I don’t think anyone else would miss me.”
“I would.” Billy said, his voice so low that even he barely recognised the words he said. But somehow, Eddie had heard it perfectly.
Being so close to begin with, neither boy noticed as they began to lean in to meet the other. The kiss was soft but fleeting. And as quickly as it had started did Billy pull away from him. Billy wished he could continue forever, but he froze up, waiting for the harsh words of judgement and disgust to come from Eddie, but they never did.
Realising why Billy had pulled away, Eddie apologised, silently scared of what would happen now. Would Billy leave him here alone? Would he leave like everyone else had left him? “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I did that.”
“Don’t apologise.”
It was strange, being in a place where there was no outside judgement, where it was just the two of them. But one of the most prominent lessons he had learnt in his time here was to enjoy what you can. So as Billy relished his warmth, he moved in again, resting his head against Eddie’s. And for the first time in nearly a year was there no battle, no struggle, and no longing for home. These things would come back to haunt them later on, but for now, Billy allowed himself to relax into Eddie.