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He’s half through fighting Randy — punching him, bruising him, making him bleed — when he realizes. Randy is innocent, Billy is stronger than him, Billy is hurting an innocent person. The connection is triggered in his brain. Billy was innocent, Hank was stronger than him, Hank hurt an innocent person.
His fist is now hovering over both him and Randy, missing only Billy’s impulse to move. He doesn’t move. He’s too busy thinking about how he’s wrong and right at the same time. He’s wrong because he isn’t innocent, he never was, Hank hurt him because he deserved it, Hank hurt him because he called for it. He’s right because he’s just as bad, he’s always been. He’s always hurt people weaker than him, people who never did any wrong. (Except, maybe, for those who insulted his mother and Stu.) He is just like him. Like father, like son, like so many people have told him over the years.
Billy clenches his jaw and hits the locker with the side of his closed fist, letting Randy go. He gets up and pats Stu’s arm, a sign for him to follow his lead and walk away.
“You okay, man? You’re usually all smug and shit after you beat up Randy.”
“I’m fine,” he murmurs. He isn’t fine, he is angry and he is sad and, above all, he is his dad. Hurtful, toxic, out-right disgusting. He isn’t sure why he’s disgusting — if because he’s, in some strange, fucked up way, in love with Stu or if because he hurts people. He doesn’t really care. He’s shit and feels like shit, and he wants to go home and drown himself in self pity. “Can you drive me home?,” he asks as they walk upstairs to the lockers.
Stu frowns. “You sure you’re okay?”
Billy looks at him. He looks concerned, upset even. “Can you drive me or not?,” he repeats, this time more eloquently, although through gritted teeth.
Stu wets his lips in a swift motion and Billy hates himself for staring at them. “Yeah. C’mon, buddy.” Stu starts walking downstairs again and Billy stops him before he goes too far. “What?”
He hates himself, he’s disgusting, he’s gross, he shouldn’t be doing it and his stomach turns when he does, but here he is kissing his best friend on the lips in the middle of the stairs. His touch is harsh and it contrasts with Stu’s, who kisses him softly despite it. He’s always so soft. That confuses Billy, who doesn’t know how to be soft. He doesn’t know how to be anything but rough. His upbringing didn’t allow him to.
They part and Billy is scared of opening his eyes. He can feel the tears coming in and he doesn’t want to cry. He’s not a pansy for fuck’s sake. He runs his tongue over his lips slowly, in a desperate motion of getting Stu’s taste. His hand is still on Stu's neck and it takes all his will to move away. Billy opens his eyes and looks down immediately. He can't look him in the eye. He never can after kissing him unless they're on Stu's bed and they're both hard and ready to fuck. Fuck, he's such a fag. Billy digs his nails into his palms, the tears close to running. He begins walking down and Stu follows him.
The trip is silent, Billy doesn't want to talk and Stu knows not to push it. So, he just puts his hand on his arm gently to let him know he's there. Billy pushes it off him. His knuckles hurt. His head hurts. His chest hurts. His eyes feel red and he's ready to cry. Whatever superior identity there is, it definitely hates Billy; not only is he a faggot, he's just like his dad, too.
“Buddy, we're here.” Billy opens the door and unbuckles his seatbelt without looking back. “Call me if you need anything,” he hears Stu say. He ignores it and walks inside. Billy looks around, looking for any sign that Hank is home. Keys, wallet, pack of cigarettes, flask. He finds nothing and so takes in a deep breath. He's collected then, but he starts sobbing like he's made of nothing but sadness and emptiness. He is made of nothing but sadness and emptiness.
He's bleeding and he knows he should walk upstairs and get something for it to stop but he doesn't. He doesn't because he's too busy sobbing his heart out at the realization that he's a disgusting, subhuman piece of shit, and that Hank was right all along. He's nothing. He's always been nothing. And it took Randy Meeks and his goddamn broken nose for him to realize that.
It repeats like a broken record in his head. You're nothing, you'll hurt everyone you love, you can't love, you're disgusting for loving, you're gross for feeling, your emotions don't matter. And he can't get rid of it. Usually, Stu would be there trying to comfort him, helping him, telling him it was okay, that he promised it was alright. But he pushed him away. He pushes everyone away. No one can know about Billy Loomis’s sad, shitty life. Shitty. He's fucking rich for God's sake, how is it shitty? He gets good grades, his mother loves him— Does she? She wouldn't have left if she loved him. Billy shakes his head. He pushed her away, that's why she left. He wasn't good enough, that's why she left. He let her down, that's why she left. Maybe she didn't love him after all. Who could love a worthless, good for nothing, violent faggot? Not his father and certainly not his mother.
No one loves him.
It's hard when he realizes it but it's the truth.
Maybe Stu loves him, he thinks, trying to hold on a last string of hope he has.
Who cares if he does, anyway? They'd both be pansies. He'd be a pansy. No. He'd only be one if he loved Stu back. And he doesn't. (He does and it's killing him inside.) He doesn't so it's okay. It's okay for Stu to love him.
He realizes that doesn't matter. Billy hurts everyone who loves him, too. If Stu got too close he'd get hurt, not only bruised but hating too. He'd leave him.
So it's better to stay alone. No mothers, no fathers, no Stu. He doesn't like it. He doesn't like the possibility of losing Stu. He doesn't like the monster he's become after following his father's— Hank's footsteps. He doesn't like the absolute shit he was after his mother left him. He misses her and he misses Stu and it's like a hole inside his chest he cannot fill.
No one loves him because he's undeserving of love.
That's the truth, pure and simple.
His knuckles hurt and so does his eye. If he hadn't cried, if he hadn't felt, Hank wouldn't have hurt him. It's his fault he got hurt and it's his fault he became a piece of shit like him.
No one loves him. He loves no one.
(Except maybe Stu, with his golden hair and soft eyes and gentle touch.)