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"I love you, man," Axel slurs, his grin wide and genuine. "You're the best partner a guy could ask for." His voice carries, drawing a brief, curious glance from a couple at a nearby booth.
Billy’s chuckle is thin, almost a cough. He straightens, tugging at the collar of his slightly rumpled shirt. "Right, Axel," he deflects, his gaze sweeping quickly over the bar, avoiding Axel’s direct stare. "You're just free with that word, aren't you? Anything with a pulse." He tries to make it sound like a joke, but a faint flush creeps up his neck.
Axel considers this for a moment, tilting his head. He takes a long sip of his beer, the foam clinging to his upper lip. "So what's the deal out here, William?" he asks, his tone laced with playful curiosity. "Are folks just not allowed to feel things? Back in Detroit, if you like someone, you say it. My crew, we're all about being upfront. No guessing games." He gestures expansively with his bottle, nearly knocking over an empty glass.
Billy shifts, his feet scraping against the rung of the stool. "We've known each other for like, two days, Axel," he argues, his voice tight, a little too defensive. He keeps his eyes fixed on the condensation forming on his glass. "It's not... that."
Axel’s brow furrows slightly. "It's not what, William?" he asks, a hint of genuine confusion in his voice. "You saying you don't even like me?"
"I didn't say that," Billy mumbles, his shoulders hunching slightly. He feels the heat of Axel’s gaze, too intense, too open.
"Then what's the hang-up?" Axel presses, leaning closer, his breath warm with beer.
"No hang-up," Billy says quickly, perhaps too quickly. He offers a little dismissive shrug, trying to appear nonchalant. "I'm just trying to figure things out, that's all. How you... operate." He trails off, unable to articulate the vague, unnameable anxiety that coils in his gut.
"Listen up," Axel decides, pointing a finger at the swirling amber liquid in his glass, as if it holds profound truths. "When I was a kid, I had this best friend, Mikey," Axel’s voice softens, a rare moment of genuine solemnity. "We were dumb and stole a car together. Cops arrest him, but he doesn't tell them shit about me. He does his time in the kids' jail." Axel pauses, looking at Billy, his eyes earnest. "Now, why does he do that, William?"
Billy frowns, genuinely puzzled, the immediate tension in him easing slightly as he focuses on the story.
"Because he loved me," Axel explains, shrugging his shoulders a little, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. "He loved me like a brother, like family. And I love you too, man. And I love every freaking one of you. You got me?" He leans back, his expression open, his affection a wide, encompassing wave that seems to demand acceptance.
Billy nods very solemnly, the faint flush still on his cheeks, but a flicker of something else in his eyes—relief, perhaps, that Axel’s affection is so broadly distributed, that it isn't just for him. "I got you," he says, his voice softer now, almost a whisper.
Axel smiles, a warm, genuine smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes. He gives Billy’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze, a firm, comforting pressure that lingers for a moment. They clink their glasses together, the dull thud of glass on glass.
"To feeling the love, my man!" Axel declares, his voice booming slightly. "Now drink up, it's your turn to get the next round."
Billy obliges, almost gratefully. He hops unsteadily off his stool, his legs wobbling treacherously beneath him. He leans heavily against the counter for a moment, steadying himself before pushing off towards the crowded bar, his movements a little too stiff, a little too careful. Axel watches him go, a fond, amused glint in his eyes, ready to spring up and catch him if needed. He knows Billy will make it, one wobbly, uncertain step at a time.