Roomies {Harringrove}

Day Twenty-two

It was about dawn. Billy hadn't slept even for a moment. Maybe it was safe to come out, now. He let himself fantasise that Steve had waited around for him after his little outburst, rolling his eyes at his own foolishness. Steve didn't even have to tell him he wasn't interested. Billy knew he was too much for him or for anyone, for that matter. So he'd taken matters into his own hands and broken his heart in two. Who needs feelings when they were a week away from never speaking to each other, again?

He trudged out, his eyes narrowed as he ransacked the fridge. He didn't have the energy to cook or heat anything up so he grabbed some peanut butter and the bread. It seemed like a low effort meal. It made him think of all the sandwiches he'd made for Max. He should have done more for her and been there for her. The moment he got back home, he was going to deal with his father's punches like a man and make sure she didn't have to feel terrified of catching his attention again.

As he walked by the couch, he knocked his hip into it and froze when he heard a soft whine. He looked over it and lo and behold, there lay the object of his affection, his hair messy and greasy with a frown on his face. He hated seeing Steve upset, even if he was asleep. He knew what it was like to face shitty dreams.

He figured he wasn't going to sleep, anyway and wasn't really hungry, either. He just wanted to fill the void, somehow. So he found himself a bottle of alcohol, a spoon to scoop the peanut butter directly into his mouth and took some once he'd flopped on the floor next to Steve, eyes flitting over the boy's creased brows.

He could smell him. It made his entire body feel like a roasted marshmallow, soft and warm and melting. He hated himself for it. He could accept the fact that he was possibly bisexual but he couldn't accept that he'd let himself actually fall for someone, that someone being a clumsy idiot who never thought before he spoke or acted. The thought brought a smile to his face, not quite matching his sad eyes.

Billy didn't care for the alcohol anymore, not thinking for even a moment before he threw it. What he'd done registered as it slipped out of his hands, landing right onto the glass coffee table. Both objects cracked and he flinched at the shards that now lay on the floor, slowly reaching out to pick one up.

Tears clouded his eyes as his impulses immediately told him exactly what to do with the sharp item. He rose it to his finger, curious about how easily he might be able to draw blood but a hand found his before he'd pressed it down farther. There was a small line of red on his index finger, the skin aggravated but not lacerated and Steve was staring at him. Steve was confused. Billy wanted to laugh and so, he did, clutching his heart when it began to pound terribly, knowing he couldn't hide away himself forever. He wanted to just be a boy who like cooking and Shakespeare for Steve. But it sounded too good to be true, simply because it was. Billy Hagrove was a mess.

"I'm sorry," he began, although he wasn't sure of what he was apologising for. The thought made him blank out and then he shrugged, placing a hand on Steve's cheek. He was still laying on the couch, surveying the damage done. Billy was surprised the others hadn't woken. Maybe they had. Maybe they were too scared to come out. Steve ought to have been. Didn't the idiot know what his hands were capable of?

"Billy... What's going on?"

"Actually? I'm not sorry. Nothing matters so why the ever-living fuck would I apologise for this? For anything? I could set this entire house on fire... With all of us inside. Or myself. I don't think an apology could heal that. I don't think any apology could ever be enough to forgive what I've done, Stevie boy. It's unforgivable. I am unforgivable."

"Billy... I know you've done some bad things in the past but..."

"Slaved away under the Mind Flayer, hurt my own sister, hurt you, so and so. All I do is hurt people. I think maybe if I tried to hurt myself more, maybe then I could internalise this shit so I didn't end up... Hurting everyone all the damn time. Truth is I've never wanted to do any damage. I wanted to do it all to myself. But I was scared that if I started, I would never stop. Isn't that- isn't that crazy?"