SUNSHINE ― billy butcher

thirty-two

EVERYTHING FUCKING HURTS.

I felt it all at once the moment I regained most of my consciousness. As if I couldn't breathe one minute, and then it was gone, and then my entire body was burning in flames. I clenched my jaw, slowly moving my hands towards my cracking skull but felt it was quite impossible when a heavy weight prevented me from doing anything. I fluttered my eyes about, knowing at least, that I was in a hospital from the way the fluorescence blared brightly above me, and the unmistakable scent of flowers all vivid and colorful at my left. I adjusted to the sight, fixating on a red rose before trying to move again—finding out that the weight was unusually warm.

I turned, and gazed at the man sleeping right at my numbing arm—clasping it tight. I sighed, reminded of the events that happened before. Reminded just how exactly I saw red, and quite unceremoniously exploded right before their eyes. I wasn't aware just how big my abilities are. I was only planning to do some minimal—maybe a little traumatic damage. Not burst the earth open.

Shame rained down on me quickly like storm. How was I going to explain to the boys—bearing in mind our current purpose, that I turned out just like the people we're trying to kill. The irony was so thick it almost choked me to death. There was no right explanation. Just the fact that the Supe fucked my life ten times over, and now they know just what happens when they do that shit. However, there's also the fact that they know what I can do. And they'll want that in their hands now. Jesus christ, now I gotta deal with that, too?!

"I can hear ya think." I breathed out when Butcher spoke, scratching his eyes over when he finally sat up and left the comforts of my hand. Feeling more empty now than ever. "What do you got going in that little brain of yours, firecracker?"

"Fuck off, Butcher." He knew what he was doing when he chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. Bravely wearing a bright yellow Hawaiian shirt. "How long was I out?"

"A shy of two days. The doctors thought you'd never come off it. Scared M.M. half to death, of course. Baffled them when they found out you spontaneously combusted without losin' a limb or burnin' to shreds." He grinned, like it was so freaking cool. Like we're not talking about the giant elephant in the room. "Fuckin' ace."

"Would you come off it? It's not funny." I was irritated, hungry, angry mostly, and parched. I was not in the mood to treat my curse like I fucking won the lottery. He's making it look like I got it as a Christmas present. "For someone who just almost lost his set of balls from a supe with laser for eyes, you're one inconsiderate, insensitive bastard. I almost died. It's not cool. It's not a very great feeling. It's not fucking ace." His face finally arrived at the conclusion that I wasn't kidding. He straightened up, sighed under his breath some words I wasn't able to understand, and stood up. I expected for him to leave after dumping all my residual anger at him, but he only grabbed a bottle of water from the small table at the side of the room, and handed them to me together with an apple.

I guess my anger was mostly from failing to grasp what just happened, and then knowing the gravity of explaining this newfound ability, and then dealing with the consequences of putting it out in the open. I was equal parts nervous and furious. And joking about what happened made me feel so small. Like I was so powerless to have a say on something I never wanted in the first place. I could've prevented it, yes. But the anger inside my head got the best of me and it flourished bigger into something I couldn't control. Who knows what I blow up next? What if I just instantly barbecued my friends? Everything about this is downright tedious.

Plus, Butcher and I never really finished our conversation. He's a massive asshole, and he needs to take it down several notches.

"I, uh—" I blinked after taking a bite on the apple. Seeing him stand there, looking down like a child that got caught doing something heinous. He was fighting the urge to both crap himself and say something that always have been a little hard for him to do sincerely. He's good at bullshit, but today is not the day he gets to be smart with me.