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The first time lightning struck him, he swore he died.
Well, he had thought he'd already died if the subway suddenly stopping at some random stop and being haggled by an old man dressed in odd clothes was anything to go off of. That the man had a stature so reminiscent of someone, but Billy couldn't quite place it.
He really considered it, that the train probably had gone off the rails and he had been squished in the blink of an eye. His grave would be the subway, and his flesh and bones would be scraped off the tracks and fed to the dogs.
But the pain felt so real, and he knew that if he wasn't dead already, he would be now.
It felt as if his blood was boiling under his skin, bubbling furiously. His body froze, and he couldn't even collapse when he had thought his legs gave out. No, no — he stood there as a voiceless scream left his mouth, light and pain engulfing him for the longest second of his life.
Then, he stood there, and he could see the top of the wizard's head. His body... Was it his body? Was he floating? Why was he so high up?
He looked down, legs feeling shaky, and stilled at the sight of his hands.
No, not his hands. Not at that moment. He hadn't know they were his hands.
At that moment, staring down at them, they were a strangers. When he clasped them together, there was an odd familiarity. Rough, calloused, warm. They weren't his, but he had known these hands. Where had he known these hands?
The wizard looked up at him, and with sad eyes, told him to be what the world desperately needed.
Billy was an orphan out on the streets. Selfishly, he didn't want to care about anyone but himself.
But he remembered his mother's words. How she told him he was so like his father, giving and giving. Yes, he had a snarky attitude, but he was a child and that was expected. He saved snarkiness for those that were untrustworthy.
He wanted to magic up a home where his parents were still alive and his twin sister Mary was right beside him.
Instead, he left the weird subway and stepped out onto familiar streets. He felt something coursing under his skin and wondered briefly, if when he looked down, if it would be him or a different man's body.
When Billy could attend school, his ears wouldn't stop ringing. It was an incessant, harrowing ring that droned on for minutes at a time before petering out and leaving Billy clutching his head with shaky hands.
He had never gone through something like this, not until... Until the subway. The wizard. The flash of light, a crack of thunder, and a body too big to squeeze through his apartments door.
He gritted his teeth, rocking back and forth on the ratty lounge that he had been able to push up the stairs all by himself. The springs were harsh, jutting out even under the cushions, forcing him to stay grounded.
He wanted to dream. Wanted to wish. To pretend.
The buzz under his skin kept him from that. It reminded him of a duty forced upon him.
He loved helping people, he truly did! But, at times, he wondered where we're his heroes?
(Under rubble, six feet under, multiple stab wounds, disappeared, gone, forgotten, kidnapped, crushed under the weight of—)
He shook his head, wincing at the spike of pain that shot through his skull.
Then— an odd feeling washed over him. It happened every time he was needed, before the whispers would take part and tell him to say the word.
He stood up, shouldering the weight of the world, and climbed out his window, feeling the wind whip at his hair before a blinding light engulfed him.
When Billy had realised that the Mary he had befriended at the spelling bee was the same Mary he had been looking for for years, he sobbed.
He grabbed her shoulders and brought her close to him, wrapping his arms around her in a crushing hug.
"Billy," She sniffled, tears streaming down her cheeks. "That's who you are. You're Billy,"
All Billy could do was nod. He had dreamt of this for years. Back when monsters were the uncle outside your door, back when nightmares were just reality playing back on rewind, back when he studied like his life depended on it, because it did at one point. And he didn't do enough. And the only reason he couldn't go on that fateful trip to Egypt was because his parents shook their heads as they looked over his report card.
His fingers twisted into her cardigan, his head pushing into her chest. She was warm, and smelled like flowers. Distantly, he could remember the perfume his mother used to wear. It didn't smell anything like Mary's, but it brought back the memories all the same.
"Mary," He sobbed, the words strangled out of his throat. "Mary, oh, Mary,"
"I'm here," She reassured him, and brought a hand up to the back of his head, pulling him into an even deeper hug. "I'm here, brother," She spoke, and it felt like a promise.
'i'll always be here for you,' it said. 'You're time of loneliness is no more. Hold onto me, I don't want this to go.'
Billy clung onto her tighter, (and she was taller than him. Not by much, but being in the streets for years and just getting by with what he had had not done Billy any favours) the buzzing under his skin ever so quiet for the first time since he got off that cursed train.
"I thought—" Billy started, but shook his head, only hugging Mary tighter. "I'm so glad you're alive,"
"I always knew something was missing," Mary whispered, her breath dancing over his hair. "I always wanted a brother. It only felt right,"
She placed a kiss on his head, and held him as he shook.
"I'm so grateful to have you, Billy."