Work Text:
It’s one of his exhausting days. Charles knows it the moment he sees him. Billy’s been at the ward for three weeks, but the last week he’s had more leaves. He’s been to the gym, to the library and even a soccer game with Charles. Only the first half of it, then the impressions went overwhelming and a stupid asshole next to them began to talk to Billy, who obviously turned mute as a fish and red all the way down his throat. One would imagine that’s enough reason for someone to stop pushing, but no, of course not. After about five minutes chit-chat directed to Billy, even if he didn’t answer, Charles snapped and told the guy to fuck off. Fortyfive minutes of fun Billy paid for with a panic attack and about eleven hours of sleep followed by two days with no visits. How fun.
Billy’s wearing a pair of green combats with drawstrings around his wrists and his rainbowstriped belt, along with a loose fitting, unbleached linen shirt. He’s made an attempt to fresh up a little by shaving, but his smile is very tired when he sees Charles in the corridor.
”If you say I look fresh and alert, I’ll tell the docs I suspect you’re suffering from a severe psychosis.”
”Happy to see you too, darling.”
They melt together easily, smiling as the kiss goes on. Kissing Billy has quickly become Charles’ absolute favourite thing to do. Not that he wouldn’t want to extend it to more than kissing, but holy shit, Billy is a pro with that tongue in more than one way, not only limited to kissing.
Charles has never really been a huge fan of rimming. Mostly due to lack of good experience from it, he guesses. It’s certainly not something he’s felt comfortable asking girls to do – or receive, and the only guy who’s licked him before Billy, suffered from a serious lack of technique. But Billy’s tongue is fucking magic. Just the thought of it shifting between shallow strokes and deep pressure makes Charles hard and whether it’s the kissing or memories from having Charles in his bed that occupies Billy’s thoughts right now, the effect on him is the same as Charles’.
The sound from a door opening in the corridor elicits a just adorable blush on Billy’s cheeks and they separate to a more decent pose. Charles takes his hand.
”What do you want to do today?”
”You.”
Billy’s voice is low, his tone possessive and it goes straight to Charles’ cock. They have better meds these days, Jack has told him when he worried about Billy’s fatigue. It takes a while before they have good effect, of course, but once the long acting effects have settled and, of course, the medicin is working as expected, the body will adjust and some of the unwanted effects will be reduced. Like decreased libido and increased fatigue. Luckily, the antidepressent Billy’s taking, doesn’t even have those side effects and he’ll be off most of the sedative once he’s recovered more. Charles moves in to kiss his neck.
”You want to fuck me?”
”Or you to fuck me… Pity I have about as much energy as an 80 year old and is still stuck in here. Don’t know about you, but a 35 inches bed in a pyschiatric ward and sedatives isn’t really a turn-on combo.”
This is one of the things Charles loves the most about Billy. The dry, sarcastic and self-ironic humour. He suspects that’s what has made him keep going despite his difficulties. Charles has never been a fan of melodrama and Billy’s slightly sharp and amused tone when he comments his issues and current whereabouts, is the very opposite of that. He’s intelligent and dirty minded, two of Charles’ main turn-ons, no matter if they’re in a psychiatric ward or not. A cough draws them back to reality.
”Would you mind not acting lewd in here? This is a nursing ward, not a gay club.”
It’s really not fair. Kissing and hugging isn’t considered lewd behavior and the talk was whispering you couldn’t hear unless you’re standing very close, but Billy’s turning his head down like he’s ashamed. He doesn’t even turn to see who said it. Charles’ grip around his shoulders tightens.
”You’ve never seen a couple hug or kiss in public before?”
”This isn’t public and people could take offense.”
”Are you a patient here or a member of staff?”
”No, I’m a visitor.”
”Then visit and leave us alone. Or, if you want to complain, talk to the staff instead of peeping.”
The man doesn’t answer and Charles’ hard gaze leaves zero room for further discussion, so the offended man leaves. Billy’s breathing is speeding up and Charles strokes his shoulders.
”I wonder where they treat homophobia… Fucking depressive condition.”
That makes Billy giggle and Charles’ body sings from the response. It takes so little for him to feel ridiculously happy these days.
”Well, since we can’t do what we’d prefer to do, how about a movie and popcorn?”
”You have popcorn?”
”As a matter of fact, I have.”
”You’re kidding me?”
”Nah-uh.”
Charles grins as he opens his bag and brings out a package with microwave popcorn and two cans of Ribena Sparkling. Billy bursts out in a tired laughter.
”Are you serious? How are we even gonna make popcorn?”
”The kitchen, of course. I asked the staff and we can use the microwave. Which movie should we watch?”
”Something that doesn’t require too much thinking, or makes me sob.”
Lately, Billy’s turned very sensitive with movies to his own great discontent. Charles secretely thinks it’s good. Not that he actually wants his boyfriend to cry, but it’s a good way for Billy to release some pressure. Crying to a movie doesn’t give him panic, which crying from emotional stress he can’t find the source to, does. But Billy doesn’t want to cry now.
”How about V for Vendetta?”
He bites his lip. Charles recognizes the slightly defiant gesture and he plants a kiss on Billy’s forehead.
”Perfect. I’ll go fix the popcorn.”
While Charles waits for the popcorn – he must remain outside the kitchen since only staff are permitted there – he, as so many times before, wonders how the fuck he can be so happy with this. Not with Billy being sick, of course not, but with spending an afternoon on a narrow hospital bed watching movies with Billy in his arms. Why the thought of bringing him popcorn makes Charles smile, feeling almost excited, as if it was a rare gift hard to come by.
And in some ways it is. Any time spent with Billy is a little treasure. Every word, warm gaze, soft touch and hot kiss are going right into Charles’ box of highly treasured things he shares with Billy. He takes nothing for granted with the man, expects nothing but Billy doing his best and being honest with what he feels. That’s not always easy either. Charles has found out that while talking to others is highly uncomfortable for Billy, talking to himself in the sentence of trying to figure out what he feels, is actually even worse.
Half the time, Billy isn’t even aware of the fact that he feels something, and the other half he struggles with identify the feelings he’s actually feeling. It even has a name, to Charles’ – not to mention Billy’s – big surprise. It’s called alexithymia and in Billy’s case it’s mostly shown in the way he can’t identify pain and discomfort. When the doctor spoke about it, first with Billy alone and then, since Billy wanted to, with Charles and Billy together, Billy’s lack of understanding pain finally made sense. Charles had been thinking a lot about that, without being able to make any sense of it, and the relief he felt when the doctor explained how alexithymia worked, was rightdown enormous. No wonder Billy got overwhelmed…
The smell of popcorn makes Charles think about their first date, when Billy still only communicated with notes. How he told Charles in the darkness about his difficulties, to give him a chance to leave. How Charles had never thought less about leaving a date and later took Billy’s hand. Figuratively, he’s never let go of it.
It goes without saying that Billy’s crawling up in his lap. It probably looks a bit funny, since Billy’s about five inches taller and have ridiculously muscular arms that makes him look even bigger, but no one’s there to see them, so who the fuck cares. The movie starts and Billy leans back against Charles’ shoulder.
”Charles?”
”Yes, babe?”
”If I start sobbing, can we please just leave it? Like, not comment it… I’m just overly sensitive.”
”Of course.”
Billy leans down to kiss him.
”You’re the best.”
No, you are. Truly. You’re a fucking amazing person, Billy Manderly and still I know so little about what’s going on inside you. Your neck smells from sweet sleep and I wonder how it would smell from sunbathing, all warm and tanned… I bet you look like a girl’s wet dream when you’re all clean shaved and dressed in some tight collar t-shirt and jeans, looking boyish shy and burly… Stop it, Charles! Don’t make your mind wander off now. It’s not the right time.
It’s so odd. Feeling this happy in a place like this, with a person fighting so many problems. It shouldn’t be possible, but Charles is so happy for seeing Billy, the place and circumstances somehow fade to nothing.
Watching old movies, eating popcorn and just having him close, feeling his scent, his warmth, the smooth skin… An hour in, Charles wants to rip their clothes off and get under the covers… He’s getting hard. And so is Billy. Charles leans into his neck.
”Wanna fuck?”
”In here?!”
”You know… hands, blankets… doesn’t even have to look suspicious.”
”You’re naughty, Charles Vane.”
Alright. That tone is a serious turn-on. He swallows as Billy takes his hand and places it far up alongside Billy’s inner thigh. It’s been more than three weeks since they had sex and being this close to each other… well, Charles isn’t made of stone.
He’s letting his hand wander loosely over the fabric in Billy’s combats for a long time. Just touching ever so lightly, making Billy squirm a little and pushing back against Charles’ groin. Kisses that taste popcorn and soda, Billy’s ass pressing hard against his cock… Charles unbuttons Billy’s pants, worming his hand down to seize the hard, lean cock, already wet at the tip.
”Fuck, Billy… If anyone comes in…”
”They wont.”
Billy pulls up his knees a bit, arranging the blanket to cover them. Charles’ hand works him slowly in a tickling, almost torturous pace, making him leak and shiver. Billy has a hard time being still. His spine moves back and forth against Charles’ chest, his breathing is strained and he tilts his head to catch a kiss. When Charles rubs his thumb over the tip of his cock, Billy lets out a hiss, nibbling Charles’ ear.
”I want… want to be inside you… Have wanted it since fucking forever…”
”You want me to ride you, or stand on all four… I’m flexible, you know…”
”How would you like to stand with your hands against a wall and let me take you really, really slow, until you have to beg me to let you come…?”
”Fuck, Billy…”
Charles is panting behind him, his cock pushing hard against his lower back to get some friction and he works Billy over as Billy kisses him hard, trying to mute his moans as he comes in Charles’ hand.
There’s little time to dwell in it, because even if it’s not very likely that someone will walk in on them, it’s still a risk and Charles quickly licks up Billy’s cum from his palm and smiles wickedly at Billy’s stunned face.
”I’ve wanted to taste you for a long time.”
Billy’s dumbstruck by the words, ears glowing red and he leaves Charles’ lap, pulling him down against his own chest. Charles moans just a little too high when Billy’s big, warm hand fists around his cock and starts stroking him in long, slow moves. Charles whispers, teeth pressed together.
”Yes… that’s how I want it… just like that…”
”Your cock is fucking amazing… Bet you’d have a hard time getting inside me… ”
”Bet you’re so tight…”
”Oh, you have no idea… Seven years, Charles… Haven’t been properly fucked in seven years… Wanna be my first?”
That drives Charles over the edge. Billy’s very skilled hand and his filthy mouth is a powerful combination together with memories of how he sounded the first time in his own bed and Charles comes with a muffled groan.
They can’t linger. It’s unsatisyfing having to hurry, but they quickly get rid of any signs of their not so decent activity, washing up a little and adjusting their clothes before laying down on the bed again. They don’t sit now, the laptop is moved. They’re just laying on their sides, faces turned against each other. Billy entangles his hand in Charles’ hair.
”I really needed that…”
”Me too. Didn’t expected you to have such a filthy tongue.”
”No? Did you like it?”
”Very much.”
Charles kisses him softly. Billy can still taste himself in his mouth. He wants to get out of here, going home with Charles to his place, just doing what a normal couple would do their first silly time being in love. He strokes Charles’ lower lip with his thumb.
”Tell me a secret.”
”A secret?”
”You know so much about me that no one else knows.”
Charles understands. They’ve not known each other very long, but the vulnerability, the courage it has taken for Billy to let him in, comes with a price. There’s really no fair balance between them as long as Charles can see some of Billy’s wounds, but not the other way around.
”You know I told you I was born in New York and moved to L.A. when I was about nineteen.”
”Uh-huh.”
”I lied. I was thirteen and I didn’t move, I was moved.”
”Fostercare?”
”Reform school.”
”Oh… Shit. Why?”
”Anger issues. Had a fucking bad temper, so I guess I can’t really blame them.”
”They cut your hair?”
”What? How did you know?”
Charles looks more than surprised and Billy bites his lip.
”You hate it when people touches your hair and when Natalie Portman got shaved in V for Vendetta, you squeezed my hand and turned your head away. I figured someone did something similar to you, from that reaction…”
”You’re not wrong.”
Charles sighs a little and looks unusually uncomfortable.
”Had long hair, like now, and it was of course against the rules, so they shaved me. Fucking humiliating. I know, it’s only hair but I felt completely mortified. Hate to tell people about it, ’cause they always says ’it’s just hair’ or ’it grows back’. It’s not about the hair itself... hard to explain, I guess… Cried in my pillow for weeks.”
”They violated you. Simple as that. Doesn’t matter if you’re a kid or an adult, it’s still humiliating and fucking mean. I’ve always hated rules about appearence that makes no sense. I’m so sorry it happened to you. Fucking assholes.”
”Wow…”
”What?”
”You realise everyone else who knows this, either thought I was whiny or just laughed, ’cause they thought it was hilarious.”
”People like that, are one good fucking reason not to let anyone near.”
”You’re letting me near… Do you know why I let you near?”
”Tell me.”
Charles strokes his index finger across Billy’s cheek, his lips.
”If you think I’m… patient and understanding for being with you, you should know how new it is to me with someone who doesn’t expect me to be entertaining, outgoing, overly enthusiastic and happy all the time. Or sees me as uneducated trash. With you I can relax, Billy. Be myself. I know you don’t want to change me…”
”Huh, I was wondering…”
”Wondering what?”
”Why you never analyze me.”
Billy smiles a little.
”For me, any kind of relationship has been like being put under a microscope. People want me to talk and when I can’t, they need to figure me out because it’s too uncomfortable letting me be and just wait a little. I feel like a work in progress, you know… People looking at me, expecting to see some kind of improvement or progress first hand, like I’m some sort of circus animal or an amusement attraction to them. Like: ’What if I will be the one this freak opens up to. How exciting!’ I feel like I’m being picked apart, like a science project…”
”A work in progress to become a functional, well-behaved person…”
”Guess you know how that feels.”
”All too well.”
Charles swallows. He know what he wants to ask, what he needs to know.
”Your uncle… He’s your only family?”
”Kind of. Wasn’t entirely honest about that.”
”No?”
”He’s not really my uncle. He was my neighbor when I was in my teens. Used to let me come by, borrow books and have dinner all the time. Sometimes, in the weekends, I stayed the night. He felt like an uncle, I guess.”
”And your parents?”
”My mom was sick. Bipolar. You know about that?”
”Yeah.”
”Anyway, the treatments and meds never seemed to work and she killed herself when I was about three months or so. My dad I know nothing about. So I was adopted by a nice couple who looked nothing like me and it was all fine and normal until I was old enough to ask questions.”
Billy laughs, but he doesn’t sound happy.
”I mean, I was the only one with blue eyes and blonde hair in the family. My adotive parents and siblings had all red hair and green eyes. At first, they said it was ’Gods little experiment’ and I suppose I was fine with that for a while, but then I started school and people began to compare me to my siblings, so I asked again and got the same answer.”
”They never told you the truth?”
”Eventually, when it was too obvious, but before that finally happened they were already tired of my questions and simply ignored them. Basically, the only answer I got was that I should shut the fuck up. After some time I guess I took them by their words.”
”God…”
”Kicked me out on my eighteenth birthday. Can’t say I was surprised. Hadn’t spoken to them in years.”
”But you were a kid, for fucks sake!”
”Yeah? So were you.”
But I was stronger, Charles wants to say. I was confident, I could use my words as well as my fists when I had to. Sure, my childhood mostly sucked, but at least people didn’t kept my background hidden. I knew who I was and where I belonged, but mostly where I didn’t belong. You, on the other hand, had to live in some kind of limbo, not knowing why you never felt like a part of your family. Instead of being answered and listened to, you were silenced. And then, after eighteen years of no answers, you were kicked out.
”What are you thinking about, Charles?”
”How much I hate adults.”
***
It’s one of his exhausting days and he will have one tomorrow as well. All this talking requires a lot of energy he doesn’t really have now. The food on the ward isn’t really tempting either, so Charles went to get them both some sushi. Once they’ve finished, it’s time for Charles to leave. Billy is sleeping better now, but he’s so sick of this bed. Of this room. Of sleeping alone.
Charles wants to talk to the staff alone before he leaves and in the meantime, Billy takes a shower. When he’s done and dressed in t-shirt and sweatpants, his boyfriend sits on the bed, looking at him in a very strange way. Billy raises his eyebrows.
”What?”
”Why didn’t you tell me?”
”Tell you what?”
”Your birthday.”
”Oh… Totally forgot. Honestly, I don’t celebrate it, so I didn’t try to hide it or anything.”
”Any special reason why?”
”Um… birthday celebrations usually requires you to talk to people. And actually socialize with them too, not just say hello and run.”
”Oh, horror of horror. What if you could celebrate it just a little? Like by having me stay longer?”
”What?”
Charles smiles.
”I found out it’s your birthday when I spoke to the nurse and I made a little request.”
”Request?”
”I can stay a little longer.”
”Really?”
”Uh-huh. If you should want to, I’m allowed to get down to the shop and get stuff to make hot chocolate for us, and I can stay until you fall asleep.”
Billy practically flies in his arms.
”You’re… I can’t believe you made this possible! You’re the sweetest boyfriend ever! How did they agree with that?”
”Oh, I just looked at them with my puppy eyes and then I may or may not have made some threats…”
”What?”
”Just kidding. Can I stay, or what?”
The tired, but heated kiss is all answer he needs.
Billy doesn’t know what magic his boyfriend has managed to work, and he really doesn’t care. He’s never spent the night with anyone before he met Charles, can’t even remember sleeping in the same room as someone else before. He’s had sex, but never slept through the night next to another man. Loneliness has always been a part of his whole being, like an organ or a body limb and he had no idea how much one single night in Charles’ arms could affect that.
Two small cups with hot chocolate and marshmallows. His first ”birthday cake” and he doesn’t want to cry but it seems like he has no say in that. He cries when he takes his cup and Charles toast.
”Happy birthday, darling.”
They sip on the chocolate and Charles lets Billy cry. They sit on the bed, facing each other. Billy with legs crossed, Charles with one leg pulled to his chest and the other dangling from the bedside. Billy wipes some tears off, only to leave room for more.
”You never celebrate your birthday?”
”I do now. Started when I turned twentyfive.”
Charles smiles and hands Billy a tissue.
”I lived with Anne and Jack temporarily and I had left some opened letters on the kitchen table. Was in a hurry, so I forgot to take them with me and then Anne saw my social security number on one of them when she collected them. Think it was from the car registration or something. Anyway, it was my birthday that very day, so she told Jack and they surprised me with the ugliest cake known to mankind and a lot of booze when I came from work. I mean, it tasted really good, but it looked like a disaster.”
Charles laughs from the memory, but his eyes are glassy.
”Since then, they’ve made me ugly, delicious cakes every year but I’ve forbidden any gifts. Or parties. Eleanor, my ex girlfriend, was quite pissed about that.”
”Why?”
”Don’t know, really. I guess she felt shut out, but people make too much fuss about birthdays anyway. I have no problem being in the center of a party, but not for that reason.”
”I take it that you don’t have very pleasant memories of your birthdays when you were younger…”
”Not really, no.”
Billy leans forward and kisses him. His cheeks are still wet.
”Used to hate my birthdays, you know. My adotive parents once thought a surprise party would be a good way to make me talk again, so when I turned twelve they sent me out on an arrend after school and when I came back home, twenty people or so, jumped forward screaming happy birthday.”
”Jesus…”
”Yeah, puking in the hallway and then run away hiding wasn’t exactly what they’d expected.”
”That’s exactly what they should’ve expected.”
”Kind of, yeah. They were so mad at me… Was grounded for a month and they told me they’d planned to give me a new bike, but since I was such an ungrateful and rude child, I would never have any presents again. They stuck to that promise.”
Charles snorts.
”Had to spend some Christmases just watching the others open their presents, huh?”
”Yeah. I could have presents if I promised to talk like a normal kid, but that was impossible by then so I just watched. The best thing with that day, was when I could get to bed early while the others were still up. It was meant as a punishment, but I just loved it, ’cause that was one of very few times when I could be alone in the bedroom and know I wouldn’t be disturbed. I always borrowed lots of books from the library, especially on school breaks, so I spent quite many Christmases reading and snacking from my secret snack supply.”
”Secret supply?”
”Uh-huh. Our neighbour, Hal Gates, used to give me a big box with Cadbury Roses and Turkish Delight before he went to Edinburgh for the Holidays. Made sure no one found out about that and I guess he never told anyone either, ’cause no one suspected me to have it. I hid it under a loose floor board.”
Billy gives a crooked smile.
”Hal was always so nice to me… He must be around sixty now, if he’s still alive.”
***
Charles is not a gentle, patient or loving person. He never has. It’s not all his own fault, he really didn’t have the best prerequisites, but Charles has never been one to make excuses for himself. He’s never been good at lying, even to himself. There’s always a little dry, objective voice in the back of his head, telling him the truth. Which, of course, isn’t the same thing as always telling the whole truth. The very few people he really care about, are allowed to have some more of it, but no one can come really close.
Letting Billy in has somehow been disturbingly easy and a part of Charles is terrified that Billy will find out that all the things he connects with him, patience, tenderness and care, actually are very new features. Before Billy’s red cheeks, lowered eyes and paper note orders became a regular part of Charles’ everyday life, he would never even consider spending time on another person like this.
Fact is, despite his life experiences, Charles has never been very good at reading people or separate lies from truths, if they aren’t very obvious. That weakness has made him end up getting hurt lots of times. In many ways, he feels like a caricature of the muscular, rough and uneducated working class man who’s only visiting the intellectual like an exotic experience. University students, who only sees him like a hot body you can have a good time with, but definately not one to get into something serious with. His background is just way too different to make it worth the effort getting to know him.
In some ways they’re right. The time with Eleanor made it painfully clear for Charles that some of his rough edges were all but charming – or even acceptable – and he’s tried to work on them with a fairly good result, but to admit the source of that vulnerability is a completely different thing. Charles isn’t used to patience. In some ways, he is a very patient man, but he’s not always been very good to show it. With Billy it was easy because he wasn’t hard to read. Of course, on a deeper level it’s another thing, but comparing to other people, the obstacle wasn’t hidden from Charles. It was there from the very first moment and nothing he only gradually discovered.
With Billy he doesn’t have to guess. In some ways it’s even more clear to Charles what Billy feels, than to himself. Alexithymia is truly a bitch and Charles knows he mustn’t put words in Billy’s mouth if his boyfriend doesn’t know what he feels, even if it’s clear as day to Charles.
No, Charles isn’t a gentle, patient or loving person, but Billy makes him want to be exactly that. And while Charles is still unaware of it, he’s actually began to turn into that person and only Anne and Jack are close enough to really notice the change.
He’s back at Anne’s and Jack’s place. Billy fell asleep in his arms and Charles had to force himself to not push it and ask to stay the night. The room, Billy and Charles all smelled from popcorn and chocolate and Charles brought the scent with him in the car and up to Anne’s and Jack’s apartment. It goes without saying that he can sleep there for a while and he’s more than grateful for that. Anne meets him in the hallway.
”How was it?”
”It was nice. We watched movies and had popcorn and hot chocolate. Talked a lot.”
He kicks off his shoes, face is twitching a little and when he sees Anne’s dead serious eyes on him, he lowers his gaze. Charles Vane enjoying hot chocolate and talk about personal stuff not even his oldest, closest friends know about, with a guy he’s only known for barely three months. Who could’ve seen that coming…
”Chaz?”
Billy isn’t the only fucked up person in this relationship, that much is clear. Charles lets Anne hold him while he cries. Getting to know Billy’s demons is fucking exhausting, but for Charles to letting Billy in this far is… horrifying.
The words about their different, but in some ways not that different pasts, are burned in Charles’ mind. No one has ever heard the story about his hair before and he always thought that if anyone would ever know about it, it would be told after lots of preparation. But Billy… his silence, his vulnerability and that desperate longing he doesn’t know is showing on his face… all of that has pierced right through Charles’ defences in only some weeks time.
It took Eleanor two years to even get half this way and now, for the first time Charles is starting to believe that he’s not only just as terrified as Billy, but a lot fucking more terrified. As the realisation sinks in, he pretends it helps to cry against Anne’s shoulder. Pretends it’s only about the weariness and worry this situation is causing him. ’Cause thinking about how useless Charles would be for someone as smart as Billy, who’s actually done something with his life despite a fucked up background and his anxiety, while Charles’ nicer sides are only showing when he can help Billy, fills him with disgust and pain. No one has told Charles that happiness can be as traumatic as sorrow and pain.
***
It’s clearly been the best birthday he’s ever had. He fell asleep feeling so good in every way. Waking up at six in the morning, screaming and scratching himself wasn’t something he saw coming.
Charles’ scent, mixed with popcorn, is on his pillow, his t-shirt, his body. But more than that is the absence of Charles there and it sends Billy downhill faster than any panic attack. He may be hopeless at knowing what he feels, but this is no panic attack, thats clear. He doesn’t know it, but i’ts nothing but pain. Sheer, merciless pain from being alone. And no other company but Charles will do.
The pain is stronger than the panic and Billy can’t identify it. His memories, his logic, his feelings all seem to betray him at the same time. Charles was there and now he’s not. Billy screams. He sits up in the bed, screaming and screaming until members from the staff come inside to help. But Billy doesn’t know what he’s feeling. The only solid thing to point at, is the absence of Charles. A closeness that was there when Billy fell asleep and now isn’t. And once again, Billy screams. Can’t turn the words from the nurse or the keeper into something comprehensible so there’s little left to do but giving him some chemical solace.
No one has told Billy it can feel like you’ve lost a limb when your mind trick you into believing that the one that holds your heart has left. He doesn’t realise just how much he gave from himself last night, how much he got to know Charles. His mind can’t seem to understand just what an enormous contrast the lovely birthday celebration Charles gave him is, compared to the life he lived before this relationship. That fear is logical, since great happiness can be just as terrifying as great pain. Being in love is fucking horrifying, feeling special when you’ve spent more than thirty years being almost no one to everyone is too big a step this soon.
So, until the sedatives the nurse gives him start to work, Billy is screaming. Once again, his own voice scares him, the sound of it being torture to his ears. He’s not screamed earlier. Never. Maybe as a small baby, but even before he stopped talking nearly entirely, he was a quiet child. Registrating adults discontent, with him or each other. And for a long time his silence was rewarded. He was a good kid, polite, well-raised. And if he ever cried, he did it without a sound. The last thing he sees before he finally sleeps, is one lonely popcorn on the floor.