Rain or Shine (UnWilling Roommates book 2.5)

House of Broken Dolls

You've all suffered trauma at the hands of Tad Strange, but the three of you hold each other together.

(Y/N POV)

You stared at your ceiling, counting sheep in the darkness.  The numbers were in the thousands by the time you drifted off, only to be woken a few minutes later by the sound of sobbing coming from down the hall.

This was a nightly occurrence.  Usually Will would wake up before his nightmares got too bad, and he would move to either your room or Bill's and go back to sleep.  This happened so frequently that it didn't even wake you up anymore.  But sometimes he'd have a nightmare bad enough that it sent him straight into a panic attack, and you'd need to go rescue him before he started screaming.

I'd hoped this wouldn't happen tonight, you fretted as you flicked on your lamp and climbed out of bed.  I read him a bedtime story and everything... It was cheesy, you knew, but neither of you objected to the comforting ritual.

You opened your bedroom door, stepping into the hall, but paused outside Will's door when you heard voices coming from inside.

"That's it, just breathe," Bill was saying.  "It was only a dream.  Just breathe, Blue."

You froze in surprise.  Since when is Bill so... considerate?  You'd never known him to bother with anything beyond his own self-interest in the past.  Admittedly, your memories of the time you'd lived with him were fuzzy and vague, but "kind" was not an adjective you ever would have used to describe him.

You didn't want to eavesdrop, but Bill was still talking.

"We're both alive, and Y/N's right here," he said softly, his voice muffled through the door.  Will's sobbing had already quieted considerably, and you could just barely hear him gasping and sniffling.  "Strange is gone.  So is Mabel.  There's nothing to be scared of anymore."

"I k-know," Will finally responded.  "I know."

"Go back to sleep, Will."

"D-don't leave me..."

"I'm not going anywhere."

You slipped back to your room, satisfied.  No one brought it up over your crunchy pancakes the next morning, but the silence was companionable rather than awkward.

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Later that day, you were lounging in your room, playing a game on your phone, legs hanging off the edge of the bed.  Will was on the floor, reading a book.

Suddenly a loud crashing noise came from the kitchen.  You jumped to your feet, alarmed.  You and Will shared a worried glance and hurried out of your room, running down the hall.

Bill was on his knees in the kitchen, howling with hysterical laughter.  He was surrounded by the shattered remains of a large glass bowl, blood oozing from his hands.

You gently nudged Will a step backward, indicating for him not to interfere, then approached Bill slowly.  He stopped laughing abruptly, his eyes fixating on you.  There was something red and scary underneath the amber color.

You sank to your knees next to him, heedless of the glass on the floor.  You wanted to reach for him, but kept your hands in your lap until you could be sure he wouldn't lash out.

"Something on your mind?" you asked casually.  He cackled again, more bitterly than before. 

"You could say that," he agreed sarcastically.

"Is it me?" you asked cautiously.  From what you'd been told and pieced together, Bill had been quite a jerk to you when you'd known him last, to put it lightly.  You knew he had many regrets from his monstrous past, and sometimes they overwhelmed him.  This led to bouts of uncontrollable, self-destructive violence.