My Nonsensical Desire (Billdip AU)

3|| Three

Bill hates his house. It reminds him of all the bad things in life.

It's small size reminds him that he's poor.
It reminds him that he only has one parent and therefore one meager income.
It reminds him that he's inadequate.

The way his house creeks reminds him that he's unworthy of silence.
It reminds him that his head will always pound and no one but the evil, mocking, creeks will notice.
It reminds him that with every step, and every thought the creeks will be there. Even if only a soft echo in the distance, because the creeks never stop.

Then there's his room.
It reminds him of his own loneliness.
It reminds him of his own small, meaningless existence, with its closet sized space.
It reminds him that he's so much less than everyone else.
He always has been.

Bill walks solemnly up the stairs that lead to his front door. He unlocks the door and steps inside.

Another thing he hates.

Walking.

Not walking in general but walking home. He notices that everyone else drives, some ride with their friends. Bill of course can't do either because he has no car or friends. Asi es la vida. That's the way life is, for Bill anyways.

-

"Oh, you can't help that." Bill laughs, his reflection staring back at him through his bedroom mirror. "Most everyone's mad here." He drops his head back and cackles, it's emotionless yet convincing. "You may have noticed, that I'm not all there, myself," he draws out slowly, wrenchingly, his voice oozing in mock sorrow.

He falls back on his bed and dramatically exhales. He's been practicing for his upcoming audition.

He's decided that he wants the part of the Cheshire Cat. The auditions are tomorrow and he's been practicing the same line nonstop since he got home. The Cheshire Cat has always been his favorite character, so Bill is determined to get this role.

He decides that he should pick out his outfit for the audition. He wants to dress up, usually he just wears sweat pants to school.

Bill slides off his bed and walks to his closet. It's small so there's not much variety to chose from. He searchers through it to find an outfit that's casual formal.

He decides on a pair of black skinny jeans and a white collared shirt, but the outfit seems too plain. "Wait, what if," Bill considers,"what if I wore my bow tie?"

Bill walks to his bed and peers under it, he grabs the step stool that sits beneath it, untouched for so long. Bill brings it over to his closet and uses it to reach the top shelf. There he finds a small box filled with pastel tissue paper. He opens it and unwraps the paper from the bow tie. It's still untied, having never been worn.

Bill carefully examines it, gently running his thumb over the soft fabric. He swings it around his neck, it lays there loosely and Bill picks a card up out of the box. It's homemade, a sheet of printer paper folded in half, a love heart drawn on the front. He opens the card cautiously, and reads the year old cursive letters that sit on the inside.

Saw this at the mall and and thought of you.
Love you to the moon and back.
- Pookie

Bill's heart clutches at the words. His eyes glued to the signature, Pookie. His Pookie. Bill shakes his head, trying to rid the sad thoughts from his mind and end the trance he seems to have found himself in.

She never cared, he reminds himself, she never loved me. The sinking feeling appears in Bill's stomach for the first time in a while. He's usually good at keeping it suppressed. He's used to the numbness that has recently taken its place.

Bill lays the card back down into the box carefully, not being able to crumple it up as he wishes he could. He puts the lid back on the box and steps off the stool.

His hands move through his blonde hair that reaches half way down his neck. "I really need a haircut," he thinks. He hadn't really been one for self care since the break up.

Bill places the bow tie neatly on his nightstand and runs a hand down his face.

He walks to his kitchen and fills a bowl up with water. After setting it down on the counter he grabs a can of tuna out of the pantry. Placing it under his arm so he won't drop it, he picks the bowl of water up with one hand. Steadily, he walks over to his back door and opens it. Bill enjoys doing this. It's calming. A routine that benefits someone other that himself. The best kind in his opinion, and the only kind he likes to allow himself to do.

"Here, kitty kitty kitty," Bill calls out into the night. He puts the water on the ground before opening the tuna and doing the same with it. He sits on one of the chairs on his deck and waits for the cat to come.

Not even thirty seconds pass before he hears paws moving towards the food. He looks to see the stray, happily licking the tuna away. Doing it so fast that you would almost think it never eats.

Bill patiently lets the cat finish its meal before picking it up into his arms. "You know what," he speaks to it adoringly,"I still don't know your name." He scratches its back and it cuddles closer to him. "I guess I have to come up with a name for you," Bill informs the cat,"Don't worry, it'll be a good one," he assures.

"Can I practice my lines with you?" He asks, scratching her ears. The cat purrs and Bill smiles,"I'll take that as a yes."