Roomies {Harringrove}

Day Nine

Their eigth day went on casually. Other than the fact that both were suspicious of each other which created some weird tension, Billy made them breakfast, then had his session and they spent the rest of the day together. But they didn't talk. Both were in their heads and Billy knew Steve's weird quietness was all his fault.

He watched Steve go downstairs, quickly rushing out that he'd gotten tired of watching the programme. Billy wasn't even sure what it was, switching off the TV without looking up once. After the brunette had scurried away, he'd let his head fall into his hands. He'd said quite a number of curse words and restrained himself from punching the negative feelings away. Then he found the secret stash, again.

It was around three am when he finally headed down the stairs. It was quiet. He assumed Steve was asleep but didn't dare try to look, hating how he felt. His body was mad at him for drinking and he felt the need to be cooled down so he went right into the bathroom and shut the door behind him.

"WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!"

"Billy...?" Steve moved to the bathroom, hesitant when he got close enough. After he'd sucked in a deep breath, he went in and found Billy with his back pressed against the wall, staring fearfully at the mirror. "Jesus, are you alright?"

He got no response. Billy's gaze was still strained on the mirror, unmoving and unblinking. Steve gently moved closer when he began to mumble "I can't go back", his hands tugging cruelly at his messy blonde hair. It took a moment but Billy finally registered that Steve's hand was on his shoulder, slowly looking up at him. Seeing Billy scared was an awful thing. He looked like a little child and Steve desperately wanted to whisk away all the bad memories and promise him everything would be alright. If only he could.

"Hey... Hey, Billy... That's right, look at me. It's Steve. You're going to be okay. I promise. I'm right here." Billy rose a hand slowly, not registering Steve's small gasp as he placed a hand on his cheek and stared quietly at his flushed skin for a moment.

"You're here... You're here. I'm... I'm not... Steve, is it on me? Is it... You told the doctor you know it's not here. But I killed so many people Steve, what if- fuck, what if I'm wrong? What if we're both wrong, what if- I should get more treatment time. I have to. We have to make sure it's dead, Ste-"

"Billy...? You didn't kill anyone. Don't think that. And you are in full control of your body right now. Full. Control. Look at your hands. Move your fingers. If that thing was there, you would feel it. The same way Will did. You would know. And it would probably have killed me by now, too." Billy smiled slightly and let his gaze flicker down to his fingers, the smile fading away as quickly as it had come. He felt tears in his eyes, not strong enough to wipe them away as he felt all his energy leave in a sudden swoop.

I should have died. I should have fucking died.

He pushed Steve away, getting to his feet. Steve locked eyes with him and arched a brow, leaving the restroom. Billy walked out after he'd berated himself for a bit, fidgeting with his fingers. It was rare to see the man nervous and he wasn't sure why.

"I... I'm drunk, Steve."

"Okay...?"

"I'm only doing this-" with a hiccup, he finished his sentence after he had plopped down beside Steve and wound both arms around his neck. "Because I'm super drunk. Only cos I'm drunk, that's all..."

"O-okay, Billy."

"I'm sorry. About everything. For punching you, for worrying you, for being a dick all the time... I'm sorry you have to share a room with me. I'm... Sorry I'm crying right now. Damn. I used to be so numb all the time. For the most part, anyway. Since the Mind Flayer, though, I've been getting emotional left and right. It must have fucked with my hormones or something..."