If I Stare Too Long

Chapter 17: You Don't Need To Read My Mind (To Know What I Have In Mind)

Eddie is having nightmares and Steve's parents are back in town.

Those are the only two facts Billy can think of, sitting out on a humid summer night, watching fireflies buzz over a lot of sparse grass butting up to the woods sprawled behind the trailer park. He's chain-smoking, sitting strung tight, waiting for Wayne to leave for the night shift. He knows he would be allowed in, knows Wayne wouldn't bat an eye, seeing Billy creep his way into his nephew's room, but he still waits.

It almost feels like a courtesy. Wayne even raises his thermos at him on his way out the door, ducking sleepily into his pick-up before taking off down the dirt road. Billy's on his feet and striding across the way in big steps before Wayne's even turned all the way out onto the main street.

Wayne leaves the door unlocked for him.

Eddie's nightmares are quiet things. He doesn't scream, doesn't shout, but the pained mewls and moans that Billy can hear make his chest ache.

When he gets in the trailer, when he gets down the hall, when he gets to Eddie's door, he feels like his heart might burst right out. When he gets Eddie's door open and he sees him, lying in bed, sheets twisted up in his hands, sweat sticking his dark hair to his forehead, he feels like it might stop altogether.

Billy isn't a gentle person. No one's ever accused him of that.

His mother used to be, though. Back when she was alive. As gentle and kind and as loving as anyone Billy has ever met.

He tries to channel that gentleness as he slides into bed next to Eddie, as he touches him lightly to bring Eddie into his arms.

Eddie's nightmares aren't like Billy's. When he wakes, he doesn't come up swinging, ready for blood. Instead, he goes feverish. Whining and scared, curling into himself in a way that breaks Billy's heart and reminds him of a child. It's so antithetical to everything Eddie is, everything Billy's ever seen him be, that it breaks Billy's heart.

"Hey," Billy whispers, gathering Eddie up and holding him tight. "Hey, babe. It's fine, you're safe."

Lips to Eddie's hair, Billy can smell the sweat on him. The fear.

Eddie stirs against him, restless and whimpering, for another long moment. Long enough that Billy squeezes him tighter, nose pressed to the top of his head. It thankfully doesn't last much longer than that. A twitch and a sharp intake of breath and Eddie is waking against him with a little start. Is flinching, for a fraction of a second before he realizes who has him wrapped up, and then he slumps with a sleepy little groan.

"Fuuck," he presses his face against Billy's chest, arms going clumsily around Billy's waist so that he can tuck close against him. "When'd you get here, sunshine?"

"Not soon enough," Billy mumbles, words lost against the mess of Eddie's wild hair.

Feeling Eddie go slack against him, relaxed, like he knows Billy is safe, that Billy doesn't mean danger—always knocks Billy for a loop. The fact that Eddie trusts him like this, implicitly and so deeply, is a new thing. Foreign and heavy.

It makes Billy hold him even tighter.

Eddie grunts but he doesn't complain. Just sinks a hand up the back of Billy's shirt to get at the skin. Fans his fingers out and just breathes against him.

Billy lets his hands dig into the muscle at Eddie's back, where it's all coiled tight. His fingers find knots and begin working at them. He can't help but smile, just a little bit, as Eddie wriggles and flinches.

"You wanna talk about it?" Billy asks.

Eddie sighs, nose dragging back and forth over Billy's chest, practically nuzzling into him like a cat as he adjusts to the press of Billy's fingers. "Same old shit, sunshine. Think it'll get better, once I get my new ink."