This Means War // Billy Hargrove x Reader

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

"And now look here please, miss." The doctor tells you, the brightness of the little light that he shone in your eyes rivaling the sun. To you, at least. Your head was still throbbing, though it was more a dull ache now from the pain meds the hospital had given you thankfully. God bless morphine. 

When the others had returned to the Byers' house, Hopper had insisted on driving you to the hospital since your cut had begun to leak once more, the band-aid falling pathetically to the floor, soaked in fresh crimson. 

Satisfied that everyone was safe, and after giving your brother an earful for leaving you again and putting his life at risk, you agreed to go with Hopper.

"I'd say it's definitely a concussion. I'd like to keep you in overnight so we can keep an eye on you." The doctor lowers his light, switching it off and tucking it into his pocket. "I'll have one of the nurses come and take some bloods soon, just to be on the safe side, but for now rest up. And uh -- don't fall asleep, of course."

Waving a flippant hand, you shuffle down into the sheets and nod anyway, annoyed at the order he'd given you since you were so unbelievably tired. Your forehead was all stitched up and you were in the best place for you, but fuck --- you hated hospitals. So much. You'd told them that you went over to the Byers residence to check on your brother and have dinner with the family when you fell and hit your head. 

Clumsy you, right?

But the doctor and nursing staff believed your cover story anyway; and if they didn't they would have probably put it down to you being a stupid teenager or something. Perks of young adulthood. 

The stitches in your brow felt heavy and sore, the gauze covering it grating against the delicate flesh. You wanted to tear it off, but you knew it was there for a reason so you settle for rubbing at the skin around it in a weak attempt to relieve some of the itchiness. "Quit picking at that," Hopper commands as the doctor leaves the room, huffing lightly as he sits down on the edge of the hospital bed.

You listen to him regardless, lowering your hand with a low sigh. "It's itchy." You complain, on the cusp of pouting though you hold it back. 

"So I just got off the phone to your mom." He says, changing the topic since he wasn't in the mood to hear your whining. "She's leaving your place now to get over here."

"God, she's gonna be relentless." You grumble, head falling back against the pillow behind it. "Just be thankful you got a mom who loves you as much as she does, huh?" He suggests, closed fist bumping gently against your shoulder. "Relax. You'll be out of here tomorrow and causing trouble in my town again."

"Thanks, Hop." You chuckle lightly to yourself, content in his company. He seemed to have this air about him that always made you feel better - unless he was giving you shit and then it was like having another parent. Gross.

When he leaves, you have a small amount of time to yourself to try and work through what had happened. The memories had come back, though they were jumbled and you were trying to fit the pieces together. When you do, it's just sad for you though. Part of you didn't want to remember -- it had just been the shittiest night and you wanted to sleep to get away from it all but you couldn't. 

"Honey!" Your mom's voice snaps you free of your distracted mind and you look up as she enters, offering what you can of a smile in hopes she thinks you better than you actually are. "Hi, mom."

Moving round the side of your bed, she sits close to you and the fussing begins. The pitied look she gave you made you want to cave in on yourself and you ignore her by instead greeting your brother and sisters, the younger sister carried by your dad. "Gee, it's a real family reunion in here, huh?" You note, feeling like the prized pig at the fair with the way everyone was looking at you. "Hop didn't say everyone was coming."