Chapter Text
“I want you to tell him what you did.”
“you.. . what?” Billy stood in disbelief. He supposed it's not that surprising. It's exactly the kind of thing a mother would force her son to do after being caught stealing, which is exactly how Paul's been treating him. A mother and her misbehaving son, the son who's destined for prison cells and a death sentence.
Despite this completely fair request, from a life gone too soon seeking closure, Billy froze in fear. He could only imagine what John's reaction would be. Billy considered pleading. Begging Paul not to make him do this. However looking at Paul he could practically see the outcome if he tried it. Paul already had a look of unbridled rage in his eyes, barely controlled anger in his stance. He had no choice. He could only hope Paul would have John spare him if he wanted Billy to take him to Scotland.
Billy's hands trembled on the wheel driving to johns. The pace was slow, cars impatiently passing them, tailgating or even honking at them, however Billy refused to go any faster. He savoured the time he had left, precious moments where he wasn't beaten to a bloody pulp. This time was a mercy to him, though he also knew Paul would lose his head if he went any faster, as he's been afraid of vehicles since the accident. The accident was their first encounter, where Paul had first seen Billy. When their positions had been switched. Billy had been the one haunting Paul all those months ago, leaving Paul the paranoid, tortured one of the two. Now it's the other way around, and shamefully, Billy can't help but feel sorry for himself. He'd never tell Paul though, everything seems to make him angry now, despite his outward attitude.
“You scared?” Paul's calm voice made him jump in his seat. Yes he was scared. Admitting that to Paul could go one of two ways. He'd slam Billy's head into the wheel, or comfort him. Billy chose silence, because both options were bad.
Paul looked pleased with himself, Billy could see him from the corner of his eye. He isn't slick, the way he pretends not to enjoy Billy's discomfort, however he probably isn't trying to be. The rest of the drive was spent in silence, until Paul turned on the radio and hummed along to the songs that played. One of them happened to be Paul's, and Billy felt lightheaded.
Pulling into Lennon's driveway, Billy is gasping for air. His knuckles are white from his grip on the wheel and he needs to calm down lest Paul gets upset from his disgusting show of mortality. Paul tells him he's practically shoving it in his face at times, how Billy can still hyperventilate and cry, and that he resists from smashing Billy's face into the nearest wall. Yet he doesn't because he claims to be ‘better’ than Billy. Billy mocks him in his head.
Billy's forehead is practically smushed against the steering wheel in his attempt to pull himself together, however Instead of the expected pain from Paul's hand, Billy becomes aware of a gentle touch on his head. He wants to flinch away, yank the hand out or possibly bite it if he’s desperate enough, but he doesn't. He stays frozen, too afraid to react in case Paul’s mood does a nose dive. Even so, he lets himself be soothed. Paul is staring at him, face blank. His skin now wiped clean of the blood that once dripped lazily in rivers down his face, looking healthy as ever. Billy fights back a chuckle because no, Paul doesn't look healthy. His skin is cold and pale, his hair is shaggy, his eyes sunken and slightly cloudy. Billy doesn't understand how John hadn't spotted these unsettling changes yet and is somewhat frustrated, because maybe if he’d figured it out sooner, then he wouldn't have to be the one to break the news.
Paul slowly retracts his frigid hand, still staring at Billy with a hint of disgust in those too wide eyes. It's haunting, the way he stares at billy like he’d much rather be tearing Billy’s skin out than sitting rigid next to him in a cramped car. Seemingly bored of Billy’s dramatics, Paul abruptly claps his hands together, startling Billy out of his head. He still breathes heavily and his heart feels like it's about to leap out of his chest and run off to America, yet despite all that, he can think again, which is probably all Paul cares about. Paul is practically grinning at him now, thrilled. What an arse.
“How exciting! Coming out with it at last! You can calm yourself, this huffing and puffing is driving me mad. I'll be right there with you so don't you worry.” Paul pats Billy's shoulder in a gesture that is 100% not supposed to make him feel better, nevertheless he can tell Paul's annoyance is rising so he forces himself to relax. He doesn't know if he's relieved or horrified at the fact that Paul will be there with him. He stares at Paul, never in the eyes, almost pleading for proper reassurance. It's a gamble, but he hopes Paul has mercy on him. Just this once.
It seems to work, shockingly enough. Because Paul opens his door, steps out, rushes around the car to open Billy's door and holds out his hand.
“I won't let anything happen. He won't do anything to you as long as I'm here.” Billy had to gawk for a minute. Paul is looking out for him. He knows this is the real Paul, the one that shines through the cruelty in an effort to be human again. His guilt amplifies tenfold when Paul gets like this, when he thinks about the man he ripped away from the world.
Taking Paul's hand when he starts to get impatient, the two walk up to the front door hand in hand, albeit a bit slow, as every action seems to be these days since Paul isn't as fluid in his motions as he used to be. He's quite stiff, however at the same time, unnervingly graceful. Distinctly inhuman. Of course Paul would somehow be the corpse to figure out how to achieve something like that.
It's late, the sun is long gone and most of England is deep in their dreams by now. Despite this, once at the front door, Paul takes no shame in knocking on the door like a debt collector comes for his pay. You'd think the man was furious with whoever’s inside, the way he hammers the door like it personally offended him. However Billy gets the pleasure of watching the large smile on Paul’s face as he violently beats the door. Fab.
Billy squeezes his hand , terrified, in a desperate act of comfort and startlingly, Paul lets him, undeterred. Paul doesn't let up on his knocking until they hear shouts from inside. John is undoubtedly furious, swearing violence at whoever is bashing his door in this late into the night. Which is fair. Billy is still horrified that he's stood on the side of the door with the lunatic who was battering it in the first place.
The moment Billy's been dreading finally arrives, as John swings the door open, face twisted in rage. He stills however, at the sight of them. Paul, sickly in the moonlight, cheery as can be, and Billy, the spitting image of Paul, covered in sweat. John is silent for a while, Paul doesn't bother speaking, too wrapped up in observing Billy tremble in front of John, delighted in how uneasy he’s become. He doesn't know if Paul wants him to speak first. Nor does he know if Paul speaking first would be better or worse than him ripping off the bandaid. The choice is made for him however, by surprisingly, John.
“What the hell is this? You found your doppleganger, Paulie?” John is clearly intrigued by the two of them. Enough to forget about his previous rage. Thank god. However now that Paul's been addressed, Billy supposes he’ll be speaking last. Paul looks disappointed at the miniscule sigh of relief Billy had accidentally set free, but is overall unaffected by the relaxed demeanor of his friend.
“You could say that!” Paul chirps obnoxiously in Billy's ear, playing along. He snaps his attention quickly over to Billy though. He nearly shits himself. They're still holding hands, which John seems to notice, but Billy's too distracted by Paul suddenly squeezing the shit out of his poor palm. He winces at the pressure, yet keeps quiet.
“Introduce yourself.” Billy can tell John is now a little concerned at Paul's hostile demeanor toward Billy. Paul isn't acting like himself. Paul hasn't been himself in a long time. He's unfortunately been great at pretending everything is alright though. Until now. Shivers run down Billy's spine at the command. The threat masked by a pleasant tone seemed to fool no one. John raises an eyebrow in Paul's direction, hoping to catch his attention and question him silently, however Billy unfortunately has Paul's full attention, as he usually does these days. Tremors roll through his body, fear clear on his face.
“Billy Shears.” He decides to be blunt and praises himself for not stuttering. Paul wouldn't like it if he stalled with small talk. Not like it would help anyway. He doesn’t put out a hand for john to shake, partly because paul is holding his good hand captive and partly because he is so fucking scared. John stares at him, now instead of intrigued, he's concerned and probably weirded out a little bit. That's also fair. Before John can speak however, Paul decides to get the ball rolling.
“He has something he needs to tell you! For the both of us! Can we come in?” Paul's excitement is apparent, but he's softer, talking to John. He's clearly aching to see Billy be ripped apart by this man, however it's clear he understands the horror he's about to put his best friend through. There's remorse in the way his eyebrows droop, his smile strains. Billy knows though that those things aren't his priorities anymore. He can see it in the way Paul carries himself now, the guilt at how little he's come to think about his loved ones in such a harrowing situation. However Paul's existence is now about revenge. Getting even with Billy. It's the only reason he's still here, walking amongst the rest of them. It drives him, keeps him standing. It quite literally reanimated his corpse, giving him the will to crawl his way out of the shallow grave Billy had dug. There's nothing that can be done. Billy is fucked.
Paul drags him inside once John steps out of the doorway to let them in. He's roughly manhandled to the living room. He doesn't bother sitting down, knowing Paul would shove him off any chair he'd choose to rest on. Petty.
John doesn't offer tea, for the best because Billy would be forced to say no and Paul can't drink tea anymore. Or anything else. Which would piss Paul off and make this 1000x worse. Billy mentally thanks John for being a terrible host. Who knew it would save a life one day?
When John settles on the couch next to Paul, they both look up at him expectantly. John is thoroughly confused, and looks slightly worried about Billy's safety, which he appreciates. Billy knows however most of his concerns are for Paul and his behaviour. John’s mind always seems to be set on Paul and Billy can't help but realize the bond he’d destroyed. He knows in a few moments it's John who will be making attempts on Billy's life. John glances over at Paul, and yet again, Paul is focused on Billy, staring him down, waiting on the edge of his seat for the beans to spill. John huffs and turns to Billy, now annoyed at Paul's attitude. Billy is too but he's not allowed to be so open about it. If Billy acted like that Paul would try to rip all of his teeth out. Again. John should be grateful Paul’s not actively trying to ruin his life, cause Paul is really fucking good at it.
Billy knows he's taking too long when Paul throws him a look of impatience and barely concealed frustration and John yawns, already fed up with all this weird shit. Billy can't seem to care about these two though, he shuffles his feet, stares at the wall and clears his throat about 800 times. Paul kicks at his ankle, shocking John, who could tell it wasn't a teasing kick. He zeros in on Billy again.
“What the fuck is going on? Who the fuck is this, paul?” he gestures to Billy, aggravated about being left in the dark. Billy sucks in a hefty sum of air as Paul practically murders him with his eyes. Paul doesn't answer John, doesn't even acknowledge his words. John looks ready to kick them out at this point and Billy knows if he doesn't speak now, it'll be too late. Unfortunately, it’s Paul who takes initiative. Because of course he does.
“Go on, Billy. Tell him what you've done.” His tone is low, not outright threatening to anyone hearing it, but Billy knows better. He opens his mouth except the words are trapped. There's a lump in his throat, choking him and silencing him. Paul looks furious. John now looks slightly panicked. Before John can question anything further, Paul leaps up off the couch. Fuck.
“Billy.” Paul stands beside him, speaking in his ear. Billy chokes, looking at John. He's scared for his life, but he also feels it again. Regret. Guilt. He took this man's best friend. Changed him. Into this. He sobs, terrified and painfully aware of the grief he's responsible for.
He thinks Paul can see it in his face, or Paul thinks he's crying over himself again because suddenly, he's roughly yanked by his hair and thrown to the ground. Landing on his hands and knees he weeps, tears raining on the ugly carpet.
“TELL HIM WHAT YOU’VE DONE, BILLY.” Paul’s shriek peirce his skull, he curls into himself on the ground as John vaults off the couch in shock. Only before John can question or even process this sudden aggression, Billy finally gets it out.
“I killed him!” It comes out in a gasping wail. He grasps the carpet fibers in his fingers, forehead pressed firmly to the ground and his breaths come out in short, laboured heaving. Paul’s still behind him, John doesn't speak. He knows this isn't enough, so before he can think about it he keeps going.
“I killed paul..!” His anguished shout is quiet by the time it scrapes its way across his tongue and claws its way out of his mouth. He's finally admitted it. Not only to Paul and his best friend, but to himself too. It all felt so surreal, he could have pretended he was falling deeper into insanity or shifted blame like he's been doing these last few months but this was it. He killed an innocent man. And now he's facing the consequences. Everything is still and quiet, the only sound being his keening and whining on the ground. Paul seems to take pity on him. Maybe finally hearing the guilt in his cries, Paul lowers himself onto the floor next to Billy, puts a freezing hand on his shoulder and pulls him onto his knees, holding Billy against himself to keep him upright. Billy shivers at the contact but accepts it anyway, moving to hide his face in his hands, giving up when Paul pushes them back down, holding his wrist in a loose grip. He can feel Paul staring at him, but Billy can't help but look up at John. John, whose pale face looks about ready to throw up his breakfast, lunch, dinner and spontaneous midnight snack. He's silent for a long time, staring at them, before forcing out a miserable chuckle.
“That’s a Good joke. Almost had me… now get…” he motioned to kick them out, eyes blown wide and frightened of the possibility of his best friend being dead, yet pauses when Paul finally, FINALLY, looks him in the eyes. And maybe John could see it. That Paul was no longer there. Maybe he finally noticed the stillness of his chest, his pale complexion and how his eyes were now cloudy, almost sightless. Because he fell to his knees in front of them, reached out for Paul, and choked when his hand touched Paul's frozen cheek. Billy felt somewhat strangely happy for Paul. It must be nice to be finally seen after being wrong for so long. He must be right because Paul melts into John's touch immediately, momentarily forgetting his motivations. He looks peaceful, for once. It doesn't last long however, as John decides denial is the best road to cope.
“But.. how? What…” he seems to be lost for words, eyes transfixed on Paul, now that he's seen the signs, he seems to be searching for everything he missed. Disbelief is clear in his eyes; he doesn't want to believe what's in front of him. It would be hard to believe, Billy supposes, because Paul is sitting right in front of him, in his house. Yet as the words are spoken, Paul seems to break away from his momentary trance and remember why he's here. He takes one last longing glance at John, and turns to Billy, tightening his grip around him.
“That's a good question. How did you do it, Billy?” It's obviously not what John was asking. He most likely wanted an explanation to the supposed corpse in his living room but Paul is the one composing the current circumstances so now Billy has to keep going. Keep accepting the truth and taking accountability. He wishes he didn't have to look at John while he spoke but it was hard not to, he owes it to John to not be a coward. Also Paul was now holding the back of his neck so he was facing John. That's probably the main reason.
Billy swallows his inhibitions, wipes his tears and tells the story.
DRAWINGS!! <3
the boys!!! imagine paul looks like SHIT hes a nasty zombie
paul can just look like this sometimes cause he's special ig
wee comic!!!
