Spilling Guts

Part 79 - I do like this

"Will?" asked Balcuwitz.

Will shook his head, pressing his lips closed. His hands were fists, compressed hard as diamonds on either side of his hips; not lingering on his stomach like they normally would. Like he wished he could.

"Will," Balcuwitz whispered, covering the mouthpiece of the headset. "You know he can't see you. Right?"

Will nodded, blinking away burning eyes. His throat felt small, trying to choke down his runny nose. He wondered if this was how Jacob felt when he'd gotten the call from his clinic.

Fuck, I don't want to start crying. Even if Louis can't hear through white noise, he'll still be able to feel it.

Each word Louis had said felt like a lance into his obviously twisted mind.

He couldn't say it now. How could he? Confession in a church was easy; say what you're sorry for and you would be forgiven. This had no guarantee of forgiveness. No promise of understanding; not from Louis.

Should he ask to talk privately with Balcuwitz? Should he let it out? Or should he keep that secret closer than before?

Balcuwitz held up the tablet, a message typed on the screen. Do you need some time?

Of course Balcuwitz could tell he was hiding something.

Will needed more than time. He needed a life reset; superman flying around the world backwards for a year. Instead Will had a twisted truth he hung onto like a beloved balloon. It tethered him to the idea that he was doing something right. That the warm flutters he felt were a byproduct of a good thing. But it wasn't good for Louis.

Louis had been close to using a knife on my insides to escape me.

Time to let go.

"I do like it," rasped Will, face burning in shame. He wanted to curl in on himself; instead he kept his back straight, keeping the torso of his body flat against the raised bed.

Balcuwitz didn't given any indication of judgment or reproach, his face still open and attentive, as if he already understood Will's secret.

Louis, however, did not understand. "What?"

"I don't mean to." Will gasped. He could feel the ghost of Louis over him, pinning him down with disgust and grave dirt. Like California. Like a nightmare he'd forgotten.

As he had done in the nightmare, he hid his face in his hands.

"How-" started Louis, aghast.

Balcuwitz cut Louis off, finger over the mute button. "Louis, you've said what you needed to say. Let Will have his turn."

Do I have to take my full turn? thought Will as he let a hand down to peek through. Can I give it back?

The look on Balcuwitz's face said no.

Will took a fortifying breath and wiped away the burning tears.

"Zachs..." and name on his tongue was bitter enough to induce a headache on top of his heartache. "At the Luvor, he asked if having Louis inside felt better than sex. If I liked feeling him squirm. Keeping him trapped."

"He was trying to manipulate you, dig into your head," said Balcuwitz, his voice easing and calm. "The accusation upset you."

"Yeah. But he didn't have to dig very deep." Will sucked in a measured breath, as aware of the still weight inside him as an allergic person is aware of a bee in a room. "It does feels good. Not the swallowing, especially if it takes a while to get him down. But once he reaches my core and settles, it--"

Will's hand hovered over his stomach, wanting to touch, wanting to feel what he liked. He snatched it back down to the bed.

"--it feels like I have something warm there. A comforting flutter I can protect. Nothing else can get at it. The idea that no one can... could hurt him."

"You like protecting someone," said Balcuwitz.

"It's not much of protection when someone has a gun aimed at your gut." The ghost of Martin Zachs still haunted Will like an out of tune song in the background, and would continue to haunt him with his guilt as second fiddle. Will hoped Louis was still listening because he could only bear to do this once. "Or when I'm the one hurting him. And I know I shouldn't, I know it's wrong and you can't stand it. And I'm sorry out of all the people it you got stuck inside had to be the rookie that actually likes it."

Will pressed his back into the mattress, wishing he could hold himself. Or be held.

Down came tears, silent but telling.