#max: trust u to be the only asshole in the world to have a near death experience and come back an even bigger asshole

[biillys]

yeah idk what the fuck this is but got thinking about billy surviving and being in hospital??? whatever. here's this.

okay the idea of post-starcourt, billy surviving and having just two regular hospital visitors. max and tommy h. occasionally carol, too.

them sitting seats apart in the waiting room, waiting for billy to finally be stable enough to get moved from the ICU. watching on as surgeons and doctors tell neil to prepare for the worst. that the injuries billy suffered were catastrophic. to get ready to say goodbye.

except billy doesn't die. instead, he stays critical, he stays in the danger zone, under twenty four hour watch and care, for what feels like an eternity, and then suddenly, he's labelled critical but stable, and they're getting the details of his new room number, only two floors down.

max basically moving in to the seat beside him, visiting as much as possible, feeling so fucking guilty. can still hear billy begging and pleading in her head, 'please believe me, max' playing on loop whenever she tries to close her eyes. she avoids sleep now. has to be dragged home and to bed by susan most nights.

tommy coming after school and the occasional weekend, sitting by billy's bedside, having no clue what to do or what to say, doesn't even know what happened that night to put billy in such a state, just knows that he doesn't want to leave. thinks about the fact that billy used to be constantly surrounded by a group at school and on the court, at the pool, an audience wherever he went, and now, they're all nowhere to be seen.

billy taking forever to wake up, his injuries taking their toll, doctors throwing around words like vegetative state and low brain activity. tommy heard the murmurings of brain death and felt sick to his stomach, max turning to him with a white face, looking scared, and so fucking young.

but then, he does wake up, and suddenly everything's so much more complicated, but there's also a light at the end of the tunnel. the light being–billy's alive.

billy can heal, recover, live. build a future–a life–because he's alive.

he lived.

except it's not that easy, because living is hard. healing is hard. recovery is hard. surviving a nightmare you never asked to endure by the skin of your teeth hurts.

breathing hurts.

living hurts.

max wants to shake billy by the shoulders some days. tell him she watched him die on the floor. take his last breath. and now he's here, hooked up and monitored, a machine giving proof that his heart's beating every single minute of every single day.

billy wants to yank the wires off his chest, the needles out of his arms. he never asked to be saved.

tommy spent so long feeling clueless on what to say or do before billy woke up, wishing that he'd just open his eyes and show signs of life, so that they could just kick back and shoot the shit like they used to, billy heckling him and tommy letting him do it, that he never even considered this side of it. of billy being awake, and in more pain than tommy would probably ever feel in this lifetime. that the great, big, bad, billy hargrove, current reigning keg-stand king, could look so small and empty, completely lifeless of the guy he used to go to school with.

billy spends the first few weeks after waking up floating in and out of delirium, some days completely unaware of visitors and nurses alike, other days flinching at nothing, eyes darting around the room like it's a trap, and he's the prey. he doesn't seem to be aware of either of them most of the time, and the few times he's lucid enough to comprehend them, it's a toss up whether he even knows who they are.

he seems to recognise max more, giving her the cold shoulder one time when max tried to help him and the nurse with his bandages, him eventually bursting out a disjointed growl about his skateboard. the last time max made the mistake of touching billy's skateboard was way back when–years ago–before neil and susan had even gotten married. she backed off then, just like she did the first time, and two hours later, billy was back to looking at her like she was a stranger, and when she tried to say sorry, he looked at her like she was talking gibberish.

another time, he looks at max, desperation on his face, and begs her to call argyle to come pick them up. says that if she calls him now before dinner time, then argyle should be able to steal the pizza van and come get them, that they could both finally escape, that they'll be gone before their parents even notice them being late for tea. max feels bile rise in her throat. doesn't know how to tell him that they're not at home, and they're not in california. that he can't even sit up without help, let alone run away.

that susan hasn't been by in two days, his dad at least a week.

she can't hold back the few tears that slip, and just when she thinks he's about to get mad at her, he falls asleep.

he recognises tommy at least once. looks at him the most lucid tommy's seen him since he woke up and asks him in complete sentences if coach is mad that he's missing so much practice. tommy hesitates. remembers one of the nurses saying that going along with the confusion is okay. that trying to correct him can just lead to more confusion, that it could just lead to irritation and anger. swallows and tells him that he's fine. that coach wants him to just focus on recovering. 'they replaced me on the team yet?' he croaks, eyes wet but looking determined not to cry. tommy thinks about how the seasons over, high schools over, and there is no team to come back to. thinks about the special assembly they held in billy's name back when billy was still in the ICU, and classmates used him as an excuse to get extensions on their school work. opens his mouth to try fumble out a reply when a nurse walks in, and suddenly billy forgets he's even there, instead focused on fighting the nurse on his liquid dinner.

there's a journal on billy's hospital side table that's filled with mostly max's handwriting, but a fair bit of tommy's too. susan's scrawled in it once or twice, and billy's regular nurses and doctors take notes and read it over everyday. in it has the date of every single day that billy's been there since billy's regular night nurse suggested it, and any notes they think need sharing. 'remembered me today', 'hallucinating his father', 'eyes clear, talked in full sentences', 'fevered state, temper when awake', 'stayed awake for three consecutive hours', 'complained of the cold, didn't seem to be able to self-regulate body temperature'

billy being awake, and having no control.

he's never had control, not once his entire life, but this time, it's different.

when he was younger, up until just months ago, it was his own personal monster, trying to raise him in his own image. his dad. always around, overbearing, his every word becoming law. if billy stepped out of line, he'd know it, he'd pay for it, and he'd never forget it. he still managed to toe the line though, unable to just stand back and take whatever he was given. liked to pretend that maybe one day, he'd walk right over the line. get the last word in. maybe even fight back. take back every bit of control that had been taken from him.

then, it was a monster of a whole new kind, one that was bigger than him, bigger than the fucking world, and it was in his head, controlling his body, using his face and hands, and telling him things. picking him to pieces, every single broken part of him, until billy was nothing but a wreck, begging with the last few pieces of himself he could gather for someone to hear him, to help him.

and then, he slayed that monster with his bare hands, and he finally found peace, knowing it was all about to be over. he stepped over that line, and he took control back, he won, and it was done. he could sleep. he could rest. no more suffering, no more pain.

it was done.

but then he wakes up, and there's a beeping noise and there's needles and there's strangers hands poking and prodding him, there's a light that never turns off and the heat's never turned on, and he's so fucking cold and he can't fucking breathe, and he knows the girl sitting by his side is important, know's she threw up strawberry ice-cream after her middle school graduation, know's he pushed her off her surfboard the second time she caught a wave, knows he knows her name, how he knows her, but he fucking can't. opens his mouth to bitch at her for reading the shittiest comics to him, but it's like his mouth's not connected to his brain, and nothing comes out, his mind going completely empty the second he tries to string together a sentence, and he wants to scream, but he can't even do that, either.

listens to the nurses and specialists when they tell him about his future, about the step by step plan they have for him. about how he's a miraculous case and he has potential, that nothing's impossible, as long as he puts the work in. wants to tear the room apart and all their brochures and information sheets, all their fucking dreams, wants to yell at them all and ask if they really think he's got a future. he can't eat, he struggles to breath, he sure as shit can't walk, it's been weeks and he still can't even piss. and they all think he wants a future.

he wants to be in the dirt, or maybe drifting out to sea. wants to be weightless, where no pain can touch him, and nothing can hurt him.

he wants to be free.

they push the rehabilitation brochure forward.

he gathers enough motor skills to push the pamphlet to the floor, accidently knocking the cup of water, too.

they look at him with pity in their eyes.

he's too exhausted to even scream.

both the girl and the guy are there the next time he opens his eyes, and he looks at them and he knows their names. they ask him how he's doing. he goes back to sleep.

tommy h wouldve tried to save billy