A/N - This chapter was inspired by the song Please Don't Leave Me by P!nk. I hope you all enjoy it.
You had always hated how easy it was for Billy to drag you into an argument. Hell, you weren't even sure whether he did it intentionally or if he was just fantastic at pressing your buttons by accident. But it was rare that the two of you could go a week without a falling out, and usually, you would end up forgetting it had ever happened. Shit, Billy was even better at the kissing and making-up bit than he was at goading you into an argument in the first place.
"You know, you're a real piece of shit," you bit at him, trailing him through the apartment into the kitchen, scowling at his back as he busied himself at the fridge. "You do something to piss me off, and then you try and act all innocent and make me the bad guy-"
"So," he grumbled softly, glancing over his shoulder at you with an eyebrow raised. "You're angry that I won't yell at you?"
"No-"
"Sweetheart, you do enough yelling for the both of us," he added, watching as your expression hardened, your tongue running over your teeth.
You hesitated for a moment. "Maybe I wouldn't have to yell if you weren't such a waste of space," you bit, watching him shake his head, barely containing the smile that was fighting to the surface. "I should've listened to your Dad when he told me not to waste my time on you."
Billy's smile was gone in an instant, his shoulders dropping as he turned to look at you properly. "What the fuck?" he murmured, watching as the anger faded from your eyes.
God, he looked devastated, and it wasn't exactly hard to understand why. Billy's dad was a total asshole. He was mean and violent, and Billy had been terrified when he had finally had to introduce you to him when you'd bumped into one another at the grocery store. You knew all about their relationship. You knew it would hurt him. And yet, here you were, using it against him.
"I'm sorry-"
"Yeah," he muttered. "You always say that, don't you?"
"Billy, I didn't-"
"Can you just give me a bit of space?" he interrupted, watching you swallow down the lump that had formed in your throat. "I don't want to say something I'll regret."
You nodded, biting back tears. "Yeah, that's fine," you told him, your voice all broken and weird. "I'll be in the bedroom when you're ready to talk, alright?"
*Time Skip*
You'd sat silently against your headboard for the next 30 minutes, reminding yourself over and over to take deep breaths; kicking yourself for ever even considering saying something so awful. You could've sworn you'd never been this mean before. God, you were turning into the nastiest bitch on the planet, and you weren't exactly sure how to stop it. It wasn't intentional. You didn't want to hurt Billy, but sometimes, when he'd egg you into an argument and then not fight back, it would drive you crazy. It was one of the most frustrating things in the world.
A soft knock on the bedroom door startled you out of your thoughts, your head turning to find Billy peaking around it, frowning softly at you. "Are you crying?" he hummed, his brow furrowed.
You quickly wiped away the tears from your lash line. "No, I just-"
"Sweetheart, don't lie to me," he interjected, moving further into the room, only to perch himself on the edge of the bed, his back to you.
"I'm sorry," you breathed softly, biting down on the inside of your cheek for a second. "For lying," you added through a sniffle. "And for what I said. It was out of line and I didn't mean it-"
"I know," he interrupted again. "But you still said it."
You hesitated, wanting nothing more than to reach out for him, to touch him, to hold him. "Sometimes, I think it would be better if you would yell," you finally confessed. "When I'm upset, and I'm angry at you, I think it would make me feel better if you would just yell back, you know?" You paused, letting out a soft sigh. "And, I mean, I know I'm not the best at communicating how I feel-"
Billy scoffed slightly, glancing at you over his shoulder. "Not the best?"
"Okay, I'm awful at it. I get all frustrated, and I yell, and I'm mean. I treat you like shit. And I think I thought maybe if I could say something that made you get as angry as I do, then I would feel better for being such an asshole all the time."
"You aren't an asshole," he breathed softly. "Not always, anyway," he added, causing your head to shoot up, catching a small teasing smile playing on his lips. "So, you want me to yell at you?"
You let out a soft sigh. "I don't know."
"Well, Baby, I'm not going to start fighting with you over nothing," he confessed quietly. "I don't want to hurt your feelings just because you decided that you want someone to argue with you."
"I'm not saying I want you to yell over nothing," you murmured. "But sometimes, when you're pissed off, you can stop trying to hide it from me and actually let me see that you're pissed off? I don't like that I'm the only one who ever gets angry in this apartment. It makes me feel like there's something wrong with me."
Billy let out a soft sigh, shifting up the bed so he was sitting next to you, his hand resting on your knee, giving it a light squeeze. "I used to yell all the time," he hummed. "When I got angry back in high school, everybody in a mile radius knew about it. I was loud, and mean, and I made it everyone else's problem." He hesitated for a moment, his tongue running over his lips. "And then this one time, after my dad had been particularly shitty, I turned that anger on Max. I was a total asshole, ripped into her about everything I knew would hurt her the most, and when I was done, she looked fucking heartbroken." Billy took in a deep breath, calming himself. "And I felt like the worst person on the planet. So the next morning, I got up, I went down to this shrink's office just outside of town, and I got help because I was tired of hurting other people to feel better about myself."
"And now, you don't get angry?"
A sharp burst of laughter fell out of Billy, his head falling back against the headboard. "No, Baby, I still get angry," he confessed. "Shit, nearly killed that little prick at the grocery store the other week for calling you an idiot when you knocked him with the cart," he pressed on, giving your knee another gentle squeeze. "But this doctor taught me how to work through it. How to deal with it healthily without having to hurt other people. I can deal with conflict without having to be an asshole."
"And I've been sitting here trying to goad you into it like a fucking bitch-"
"Baby," he chastised lightly. "You aren't a bitch," he pressed, releasing your knee to wrap his arm around your shoulder. "But you're angry, and it goes a lot deeper than you being a little pissed off when I forget to take the trash out, Sweetheart." He hesitated for a moment, leaning in to press a kiss to the side of your head. "I'm not going to pretend I know exactly how you feel, but I do think that therapy could help."
"Would you come with me?"
Billy smiled softly at you, letting his free hand cup your cheek. "I can come to the office with you, drop you off, and wait for you in the waiting room," he told you, his voice so gentle that it made your breath catch in your throat. "But you'll have to go in alone, alright? It'll be better without me sitting next to you."
You sniffled slightly. "Okay." You hesitated for a moment, your hand lifting to cover yours against your cheek. "I really am sorry," you reminded him.
"I know you are, Baby."
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