SUNSHINE ― billy butcher

twenty six

I DIDN'T REALIZE how upset I was going to be when I found out that Butcher nearly fucked up again.

I was there that night he decided to pay Raynor a visit. I didn't ask why exactly, mostly because of how nostalgic and sad and miserable I was then. But when M.M. confronted this right asshole about the truth, he looked like he was trying his best to be innocent. And that alone pissed me off so much so that I stayed out of his way the duration of us, squatting under a dilapidated hideout trying to make sure we get out here alive.

M.M. drew close while I try not to gaze at that asshole reading a newspaper at the corner, stopping myself from pushing him down the stairs or something. "Are you alright?" I shook my head, a lump forming at my throat just as my eyes roam around and see people that shouldn't be here. People we should be keeping away from the mess we've created ourselves. Sometimes, I think I'm one to blame, for letting it happen. For letting things fall this way.

"You ever stop and think if we're still doing something—right?" The line has been blurred one too many times. No matter how much I make it good by everyone else, we still find ways to fuck this all up.

"Far as I'm aware, everythin's tits up since the beginning. What the hell does it matter if we do somethin' right or wrong? Justifications doesn't matter when you blur the lines with your personal grudge." He said, pertaining to why we're all even here in the first place. Remembering Hughie's words to me at the car. "I just hope—he doesn't drag us along the mud of whatever the hell he's tryin' to do."

I sagged at the seat, the burden of it all was beginning to creep up on my shoulders no matter how hard I try not to think of it. Not to think that these was never about ALL the bastards in spandex. No. It was Butcher's fight we're fighting. "I accepted that, you know? I want to let him rage havoc everywhere he goes. I let him have his piece, let him square his problems with the world. But in the midst of that, I let him swear off that we'll still do right by everyone no matter how hard it is. But it sure doesn't seem like it now."

"Do you want to hear it from me?" He asked, arms crossed and looking at me in the way that I know whatever he's going to say was gonna get into my head. But he's unafraid of the truth. If there's one thing I've known M.M. for, it's that he's unapologetically true to a friend even if it hurts, even if the truth is so painful you rather get shot than hear it.

"What?"

"I think—you have the power to change this mess. Butcher is scared of you in a way that'll make him stop, make him rethink everything he's done. But you don't want to. See, you're so—wrapped around his middle finger that his personal vengeance is yours, too—it's keeping your rage alive and you know it. Word of advice? Grow your own goddamn spine and stop cleaning up Butcher's mess. We're doing this for a cause—for the assholes that ran over our lives and ruined them, not only for him. So, get your shit together before it's all too late. You know I love you like my sister, but you can't keep chasing cute rabid chihuahuas just because you happen to love them."

He left me at the room like that, alone in my hell while sitting at the edge of the couch. It really is that painful—the kind of slap in the face that I wanted so badly to shut off but was the truth of it all.

Even the undeniable fact that I was a fucking sucker for loving him. I've known it for a while now, not that I didn't try to push it. I truly did. Because it wasn't right, it's inappropriate, even. But the things that escalated got out of hand and by now, the position of denying the truth felt more foolish than just calling it what it is. Than saying it for what it has transformed into. I was in love. And it's the person I should not have even considered to fall for in a million years.