revivalproject | Fortunate Son - Creedance Clearwater Revival

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Fortunate Son - Creedance Clearwater Revival

WHO: Billy Hargrove; Open
WHERE: Fountain
WHAT: Showing up in this city beats being dead
WHEN: May 8th
WARNINGS: S3 finale spoilers for Stranger Things?

This doesn't feel anything like Starcourt's floor. The glossy and tiled smoothness of it against his back is missing. It's rough and jagged, like Billy's laying on a gravel road. Or maybe it feels like that as blood seeps out from his sides. It stains up into his white tank top, into the waistband of his jeans. There's faint lines lining his arms and temples where he had been controlled.

Then he feels the pull. Towards a glowing orb and it hurts - fuck does it hurt like hell - to move, but he manages to touch it. And immediately goes down with a yell, brain trying to process all of that and still reeling from being back in the driver's seat of his head again.

Onto his back he goes, blue eyes at the sky again. There's a lot of blood lost from the two wounds, and Billy realizes that's probably why he feels weak. He's not supposed to feel like this, he's Billy Hargrove. King of Hawkins, pretty boy and playboy.

God he's killed so many people in the span of a month, even though it wasn't his fault.

He coughs and finds the strength to wipe away the wetness. Saliva, good, it wasn't blood. He knew coughing up blood was a bad sign at least. He heard about it from-

No, don't think about her right now.

Billy lays there, turning his head to look around. Was there anyone around? He needs to call for help. And he does, a choked out "...help," that has an edge to it because he's not going to be heard as weak as long as he can help it.

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Kaplan does his best to look calm as he stitches him up, trying to remember what Tae's taught him. He hates how used he's getting to all this blood.

"Evidently- the Agrii think you can help them," he answers, "They want you to be one of their heroes. Unfortunately they didn't think to ask any of us if we wanted to be here, but uh...maybe it's good they brought you when they did..."

"They can fuck off with that." Who did the Agrii think they were? Just pulling people to this city without even asking?

He hisses with almost each stitch, but doesn't protest it. He's maybe had worse. Hargrove knows he's not scared of needles at least, not with the smoking skull tattoo on his right shoulder. The blond quiets at hearing the aliens want him to be one of their heroes. Hell, he couldn't even be that in his own world. Why would they think he could do it here?

Hargrove grits his teeth as he seethes. Not at Billy, but at the thought of the Agrii just bringing him here to be something he's not. "They're just prolonging the inevitable," he finally gets out through clenched teeth. Hargrove knows what fate he's going to be met with back in the mall.

And it will be a sort homecoming.

"..." The doctor frowns, unsure if it's better to offer false hope or acknowledge the truth when his patient seems to be aware anyways. He presses his lips together into a thin line.

"...there's been a lot of that lately," he says finally, "So whatever time you have...it's more than most people get once they know what's coming." Something to ponder. Maybe when its all a little less fresh and the pain's not still weighing quite so heavy.

He wipes down the first side, stitches complete, and moves round to start the next. "You're doing good."

"As soon as- fuck -I go back, I'm dead." It's not a pleasant thought. He could've been someone better, right? He thinks of how it felt to do the Mind Flayer's bidding. Unable to control himself, just... trapped. Helpless. Always helpless, until he finally turned that rage against other people.

Hargrove hisses when Billy wipes down the first side, completed. "Shut the fuck up and just finish it." It hurts and hopefully this so-called doctor wasn't just drawing shit out. He better not be, or they'll need a doctor for the doctor.

"The time you have here," Billy corrects, looking guilty that he can't offer much reassurance that he's got much time when he goes back.

His lips twitch, tensing a little and giving Hargrove a short but pointed look. "I know this is all a lot, between whatever really bad shit you just got pulled from, and being...kidnapped by aliens. But I'm trying to help you," he reminds softly.

The second side is cleaned and numbed, and Billy ups the magic pain relief as he starts stitching him up. "You look pretty banged up besides this, is there anything else that I can check out for you?"

"I know you're trying to help me, but it still hurts." He was allowed to be in pain, right? Though Hargrove being in pain just meant he took it out on others. He didn't know any other way. Then the magic is upped and he relaxes. The pain is just a dull ache, which is something he can manage better now.

At least now he fully relaxes on the bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling over him. "...Mind flayer. Something attacked me weeks ago and was controlling me." 'Making me kill people,' goes left unsaid. "Then once the control broke, I decided to fight back and it decided to finish me."

He holds up his hands, that have minor scratches like something had raked sharp teeth just barely in reach, on his skin. "How long do I have to take it easy?"

"I know it hurts," he allows, and his expression softens some, "And I'm sorry."

Billy's brows crease as he listens. "That sounds terrifying."

He glances up at the hands, frowning and murmuring under his breath as he sews. A blue glow shimmers on those scratches, closing them up like they'd never been there.

"At least a few days? Even if I do a magic heal, you've been through a lot of trauma. Your body needs time to recover."

"The fuck are you sorry for?!" he nearly shouts. "You didn't do it!" He never understood why people threw around 'sorry' so easily. Hargrove knows he doesn't. There's a huff of air from his nose, and he turns his head away to let Billy work. Doesn't even see the shimmering blue make the scratches disappear.

Those fingers flex after the magic is done. "What can I do? Any of my workout routine? Is there even a gym here?"

The earns an almost sympathetic look, and for now at least, the doctor's not afraid of the bark. "I don't like to see people hurt. And I know what I'm doing to fix you doesn't feel too good either," he counters.

He considers and gives a hesitant nod. "If it doesn't hurt you and you take it easy, you should be fine, I think. There's a gym in the civic center. Just make sure you stop at the first sign of pain and don't be that guy that pushes through because he's tough and makes it 10x worse, okay?"

Right now, Hargrove is all bark while he's healing his bite. "No, it doesn't feel good. But if it's working, then I don't care."

At least it hurts less while Billy works. Even if the blond doesn't like it. The instructions are listened to, blue eyes looking at the other teen. He holds his tongue against protesting that he was tough, with all of the shit he's been through, but he doesn't.

This Billy is just trying to help and putting up with him after all. "Fine. Won't push through it. But I'm not going to stop working out just because you think I need rest or some shit."

Wiping down his work on this side, Billy gives him a lightly exasperated look, but smiles.

"You can do whatever you, I'm not going to tie you to the bed or anything. And I don't think you need rest, you do need rest. It's how the body heals. What's the pain like now? I can get rid of some more of it for you, but I need to leave at least a little so you know if something goes wrong, or if you're overdoing it, okay?"

Billy will probably find himself using that look a lot around Hargrove. All he gets right now is an angry look. "Good God, just patch me up! The pain is still there but I can fucking deal with it!" It wasn't crippling at least, and Hargrove feels like he could get up and power walk to wherever he could stay.

Stay. He needed a place to stay. Fuck.

"Where the hell am I supposed to go after this? Some sort of homeless bullshit shelter?" Did this city even have that?

"I'm done the patching," he points out with a bit of a teasing smirk, "See? All closed up?"

"You can stay here. There's also a hotel, not one where you have pay or anything. That's usually where people start. Some people end up taking over one of the old stores."

Hargrove breathes out and chances looking at Billy's work on him. They were closed up, still aching and red despite it all though. But he wasn't bleeding out, he wasn't going to die. He'd live another few days as long as he rested.

Hands go up to cover his face and drag down it a little as he breathes. Not dead, not dying. Living a little longer. "Guess it's easier to stay here for now, instead of trying to get to the hotel." But when he could move around, he'll probably go there for the ease of it all. "I just want to be able to workout again when I get permission to."

"Here is probably best," Billy agrees. "I can get you some food whenever you're up for it, and I can get you some more pillows and things to make everything more comfortable."

He smirks a little. "You really have your priorities straight, don't you? You can get back to it soon. Maybe not tonight, give yourself a least a day. You deserve some rest."

Hargrove gives Billy a side glance, but doesn't remark about his priorities. "No more than two days," he points out, trying to give himself time to heal and adjust to this new place to live in.

"Food sounds good." When was the last time he properly ate? Heather's house he thinks. The Mind Flayer kept him fed enough to keep his body working. "Got anything high end if we don't have to pay? Steaks 'n stuff like that?"

"I can make you whatever you want right now. Generally though, if you're eating at the diner you're limited to whatever you or whoever's cooking know how to make. Or there's protein gel." He makes a bit of a face, clueing Billy into the taste. "But as long as you don't object to me conjuring it, sky's the limit tonight."

Protein paste? Sounds gross, and from the look of the other Billy's face, it is gross. "Whatever the diner has then. As long as there's meat." He works his hand into a pocket, pulling out his pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

Yes, he does intend to light up in a hospital.

"You've done enough of your freaky magic, who knows what'll happen if I try to eat it."

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Fortunate Son - Creedance Clearwater Revival

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