Chapter Text
It was Sunday at the Whalen house. Rose and the Action Man were having a day out, and Billy did the laundry while Pete was in their shared bedroom trying to set up an Xbox on a 10-inch TV from 1978. It’s like being back at the trailer, Billy thought. He reached into the pocket of one of Pete’s jackets, knowing that he frequently left change, lighters, and the foil from cigarette packs in them. Billy pulled out a crumpled receipt that was about 3 feet long. We always forget to use those coupons on the CVS receipts, Billy thought, so he decided to see if there was anything good. He happened to see that Pete had apparently purchased condoms and lube about a week ago.
“WHITE!” Billy’s voice echoed through the house. “GET IN HERE!”
Pete emerged a few minutes later. “Yeah, pally?” He leaned against the washing machine.
“White, listen,” Billy pinched the bridge of his nose. “I know that you really want to keep doing this fake couple thing for my mom, but why the hell did you buy condoms? I don’t want my mom thinking about us doing that stuff! I don’t want to think about us doing that stuff!”
“Oh, uh, that stuff wasn’t for us, it was, uh...” Pete struggled for words.
Billy stared up at him, waiting for an answer. Pete ran a hand over his face.
“Okay, Billy, I really didn’t want you to know about this, but it was...I’ve been...with Rusty.”
“WHAT?!” Billy turned away from Pete and leaned his head against the wall.
“Hey, what’s the matter?” Pete asked.
“How long?” Billy asked without turning around.
“What? Who cares, fella? You don’t own me! Like Klaus Nomi said!”
“Lesley Gore wrote that song, you...you jackass!”
“Well, Nomi perfected it,” Pete said.
“Just tell me,” Billy said. His voice was suddenly quiet. Pete reached over to touch his shoulder and Billy smacked his hand away.
“I don’t know, I mean...a few times back in the day, I guess, and since we moved up here, it’s been, I guess, kinda a regular thing. For a few months.”
“Jesus Christ!” Billy whispered under his breath. Then, a little louder, “I didn’t even know Rusty was gay.”
“Rusty? Hey! What about me?” Pete asked.
“Oh, come off it, White.”
“And he’s not gay, you know! And I don’t understand what the hell you’re so upset about. What, are you jealous? ‘Cause he’s your childhood hero?”
“Just get out.” Billy pointed towards the door.
“Pally?”
“Get out, get out, get out!” Billy yelled. He took a pile of Pete’s clothes from the washer and thrust them into his hands, still dripping wet.
“Oh, Billy...” Pete whispered. His lip quivered. “But Billy, your mom is making stroganoff tonight.”
“Just GO! You asshole, just go!” Billy began pushing Pete out of the house, until Pete finally tripped down the front stairs and Billy slammed the door behind him. Pete paused a minute, the pile of clothes dripping onto his shoes, and turned to knock on the door.
“Billy! Billy!” He yelled. The door didn’t open. “Billy, can I have a bag?” A few seconds later, the door opened a crack and Billy threw a reusable grocery bag onto the stoop.
“Oh, pally,” Pete sighed as he gathered everything up and walked down the street.