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In the negative zone it's hard to even breathe. Every lungful of air he pushes in and out is an effort. Everything is dry. His throat, his skin, his hair, the ground beneath him, and the people around him. When he catches a glimpse of himself he looks gaunt and dull. His hair feels like straw and his skin cracks and peels. Prison 42 drains everything out of you.
Of all the horrible things that happened to Billy there, now that he’s back on Earth with Teddy and the war is over, the hardest thing to get used to again is breathing easy. He lies awake at night in their bed with his ear pressed against Teddy’s chest, listening to the way his heart beats and feeling the way his chest moves up and down and up and down with such ease. The sheets are soft and clean around him, the bed beneath him is soft, and his boyfriend is warm and safe, but Billy can’t forget that it doesn’t have to be this hard anymore. He can’t just let go in breathe.
One night, almost three months after the end of the war, Billy stands in front of the window. It’s raining and he can see his reflection in the glass; can see that he’s fine and healthy, but still there is the same hollowness in his eyes that he saw in that place. There’s frustration building up in the back of his throat, a kind of raw emotion he rarely feels these days. The ball of anger rises up from his stomach, red hot and burning. Why does he still feel this way? What did he do all this for? Was it worth it? Was it worth it? Was it worth it?
Billy can’t stop it when his fist flies forward into the glass. It makes a loud, horrible crunching noise and he’s suddenly aware that the sound of snoring from behind him has stopped. There’s a hole in the window now. Jagged edges and spiderweb fractures grow across the glass. He feels a hand on his shoulder, Teddy, and it takes all of his effort not to jump. Teddy carefully extracts Billy’s fist from the sharp edges remaining in the window. There’s blood dripping across Billy’s knuckles and a shard of glass still sticking out his palm. He can’t bring himself to react to this. He doesn’t even know why he did it. Teddy leads him to the bathroom, and Billy realizes that Teddy’s been speaking this whole time, and he hasn’t been listening.
“What?” He says.
Teddy looks startled when Billy speaks. And for a moment he doesn’t reply, to intent on gently digging the glass out of his boyfriend’s hand. However, when the piece of safely extracted, and Teddy is applying peroxide and bandages, he begins again.
“What happened?” He asks, with eyes that are wide with concern.
“I don’t know.” Billy replies honestly. “I don’t know why I did that.”
Teddy is quiet for a moment, unsure of what to say. “Billy,” He starts. “I know… I know that the negative zone was bad. And I know that you’re still hurting. I want you to know that you can talk. It doesn’t have to be to me, okay? It can be Kate, or Tommy, or anybody. Just, please, talk to someone.”
“I want to talk to you,” Billy replies, looking at his now bandaged hand. “I just don’t know where to start.”
“Just start with something small,” Teddy suggests.
Billy leans into Teddy, taking a deep, shuddering breath. He closes his eyes and breathes in Teddy’s smell, trying to stay afloat in a sea of memories. (Dry, cold, the sound of blood dripping, the strange odorless air, bones popping, knuckles cracking, unwashed bodies, dull eyes…)
“They never turned the lights off,” Billy says, finally. “It was dull in the cells, but it the hallways it was so bright you had to squint. You never knew what time it was, how much of it was passing. But you knew it was faster out here. I wondered… if it had been years. Would I come out and be an old man and you would still be young? Would I even come out at all?”
God he can still see the ceiling of his cell, never changing, never giving any indication of how long it had been.
The feeling of Teddy’s arms wrapping around him brings him back. It’s over. It’s over. It’s over. He clings to Teddy, ignoring the tears dripping down his cheeks and onto Teddy’s shirt. He sniffles and wipes at his nose. Teddy’s hands come up to cup his cheeks, wiping away the wetness.
“I love you,” he says. “You got out, and we’re still together. But I promise, I would still love you, even if you were an old man.”
Billy puts his ear to Teddy’s chest, hearing the steady beat, and feeling the way it moves up and down and up down with such ease.
Maybe… maybe tonight.
“Let’s go to bed,” Billy whispers.