[ gator eyes billy as he washes himself, and gator does the same. he scrubs his shoulder, listening as billy speaks - there's a soft laugh in there, and gator's eyes hit billy's. there's no danger - they're soft, a slow smile spreading his mouth as he lowers the cloth into the water, letting it gather. he then washes his torso, damp chesthair and wet nipple piercing. snow suits. that makes gator laugh, a sweet, lovely sound. it rings like a bell, eyes crinkling as he leans back against the side of the tub. ]
We got them around here. I generally just layer up. That'll teach you to run around in them open shirts.
[ gator lifts his leg, placing it on the side of the tub near billy. he's comfortable, head leaned to the side, and he watches billy with something stirring deep within. he swallows, adam's apple bobbing with it, and he nods at billy's washcloth. ]
My turn.
[ it isn't normal - far from it. kidnapping, holding a hostage, bathing with him. none of it makes sense, but billy's laughing and smiling and it fits into gator's mind like the last piece of a puzzle. this was always supposed to happen. he was supposed to bring him here, to make him his. as selfish as it is - gator hasn't been taught any different. from roy, from the rest of the men at the compound. this is love, isn't it? gator leans his head back, but he doesn't close his eyes. they shine, something gentle in them, his toes playing at billy's bicep. ]
[ Gator is cute like this, which is a thought that's new to Billy. He's always found him attractive, and now is no exception - muscles gleaming in the light, all that hair wet against his chest, his legs. But there's something carefree, soft in a way that doesn't feel like there's any looming threat behind it. Maybe that's naive, it probably is, but it's moments like these that make him forget the pain, the fear. He laughs again, shaking his head. ]
You like me in them open shirts. Well - now on, forget it. Gonna get me a big-ass parka and never take it off.
[ He watches, eyebrow raised, as Gator lifts one leg out of the water, a smirk curling over his lips as his foot rests against his bicep. Billy dunks his washcloth under the water, squeezing some of it out before bringing it up to wash over the top of Gator's foot, up his calf, slow and careful. When he can't reach any further from where he's sitting, Billy shifts, tucking one leg in toward himself while he scoots forward, bringing the cloth up along Gator's thigh, blue eyes meeting his again. ]
[ you gonna keep me warm all winter? gator smiles, shifting to meet billy as he runs the washcloth along his leg, his thigh. he nods, slow, hand reaching down to guide billy's hand to his other thigh. not yet. his fingertips brush against billy's wrist, teasing, before he lifts his hand back from under. he licks his bottom lip. ]
I'll keep you warm, now. Don'tcha think I'm warm?
[ his hand reaches up, still wet, running through the strands of his hair, gel releases here and there. strands fall, his body moving a bit as he gets comfortable against billy. he leans up, kissing him, mouthing at his lips, opening his own. they kiss for what seems like hours - gator's hand guiding billy again, only to his abdomen. not yet. he nips at his bottom lip, soft, eyes on eyes. ]
Real warm.
[ like the tease he is, gator nestles against the back of the tub again. he watches billy, licking a remnant of his saliva off of his lips. he doesn't think anything carnal should happen, not now, anyway. he merely leans his head back, closing his eyes. the steam rises from the water, the windows and mirror fogged up. ]
[ Billy lets Gator lead his hand, squeezing his thigh as he drags the washcloth along it, eyes still on his. Maybe he can handle this, he thinks, one little sleepover, a hot bath before sleeping away his hangover in Gator's bed. Despite running past countless red flags, he likes Gator a lot, maybe even loves him, in their own fucked up way. Everything Billy fears in him, he learns to justify. ]
Mmhmm. Got me warmin' up real nice, daddy.
[ Billy's always weak for his kisses, opens up eagerly to him as his hands linger on Gator's inner thighs. He's in no hurry to rush things along, warm and lazy now, content to languish in this strangely intimate, strangely domestic moment. Gator guides his hand again, this time to his abdomen, and Billy smiles against his mouth, running the washcloth over the firm muscles there. ]
Warmer than warm. Think there might be a word for that, maybe.
[ Gator leans back again, and Billy decides to tease, too. He dunks the washcloth in the water again and starts to wash Gator's other leg, starting at the foot, working his way up and flashing him a grin. ]
[ gator smiles, slow and lazy, eyes still closed. he lets out a groan of approval as billy washes his leg, his knee. his head tilts, and he opens his eyes, watching billy and his prettiness - those eyes, his tanned skin. he's practically an adonis, and he's all gator's. if roy can have his stable, then why can't gator? he watches billy with hungry eyes, but he takes in a breath. not yet. his hand lifts from the water to take billy's in his own, leading it over his nipple piercing, right over his heart. ]
You'll be happy here, baby.
[ and you'll be mine. gator releases billy's hand, staring at him lovingly, as if praise would fall from his tongue again. he doesn't understand that what he's done is wrong. kidnapping is what it is, but that's the tillman way, isn't it? take what you want, don't apologize. do what you please, because there are no consequences. ]
Bowman'll probably bring your stuff tomorrow. You gotta get used to the bedroom, still.
[ Billy hums at the back of his throat as Gator takes his hand again, his thumb brushing over his pierced nipple as he rests it against his chest. Gator speaks, and it strikes him as an odd thing to say - you'll be happy here, like this isn't just one ill-advised night among many in Billy's life. God knows bringing him here isn't the dumbest thing he's let Gator do.
But then he keeps talking, and Billy knits his brows together, wondering if maybe he's just still too drunk to follow his train of thought. His intuition says otherwise, though, and his heart is sinking fast as he struggles to put words together. ]
What're you talking about?
[ His voice feels too small for his body, like if he were any further from Gator he wouldn't be able to hear him. ]
I don't want Bowman -- you said - I-I don't need my stuff. It's one night.
[ His fingers are still pressed to Gator's pec, his eyes suddenly wide, fearful as they study Gator's. ]
[ gator watches billy's expression change - slow to dawn, the liquor in his system tredging things down. gator takes a hint of pleasure from it, sitting up to look billy in the eye. he places his hand over billy's, still on his chest, tilting his head. he knows that billy doesn't understand - who would? being kidnapped and dragged to the tillman compound is one thing, but spending forever here? gator's used to it, it's his home, and now he wants to make it billy's, too. ]
Now, baby, that's where you don't get it.
[ he clicks his tongue, mouth pulling down in mock frown. he rests his hand on billy's shoulder now, thumb rubbing the muscle at the dip of his neck. he frowns again, but it's more pouty than anything else, as if batting his eyelashes will somehow get him his way. no one has told him this is wrong, but some part of him suffocates it until its no longer breathing. there is nothing here but rules, the law of what's right and what's wrong - gator knows this is right.
he tips his head back and forth, wincing a bit, but dangerously. he leans back against the tub again, both legs on top of billy's knees. he sighs, head on his fist as he supports it. he smiles. ]
[ Billy wants to back away as Gator sits up, but there's really nowhere to go. Even if he did, it's still just him against Gator, and that's never ended well even on his own turf. His apartment's a shithole and Gator tells him as much almost every time he's there, but it's his home. His. It's the first and only place he's had in his entire life where the only person who makes the rules is him, where he can come and go as he pleases, do as he pleases. He's barely had the chance to enjoy his freedom, only to go running straight into another trap.
He withdraws his hand, shaking his head, like telling Gator no has ever gotten him what he wanted. Hell, the one time it did, he came running back anyway, begging for a second chance. But this - Billy hates every part of the idea of it. Being trapped here, with no space of his own, no freedom, under the roof of a man he doesn't know and doesn't want to know. Even the idea of Bowman going through his stuff makes his stomach churn. ]
I - I can't just - I've got a lease, a job... And -- what about your family? They don't want someone like me here.
[ He's sobering up fast now, chest rising and falling as each breath comes more quickly than the last. Even if he weren't drunk and tired, Billy has no idea how he could talk himself out of this. It's his own fault. It always is. ]
[ when billy panics, gator's jaw sets. gone is the amusement, gone is the idea of their little lovenest, right here on the compound in gator's room. he tilts his head in the opposite direction, staring at billy as if he's fucked up big time. his eyes widen slightly, and that's when his hand rips itself from the water. it splashes, right over the side of the tub, as gator wraps his fingers around billy's throat. ]
You don't get it, do you?
[ it's hissed through teeth, said with such angry disdain. his voice is still soft, and he does not want to alarm anyone in the house, especially his father. his grip tightens, billy's face turning a sweet shade of red. gator knows what he wants, and he aims to get it. that's billy, here, in this house for the rest of their lives. his best girl, his only girl, his wife. he lets go of billy, shoving him back against the other side of the tub. gator then climbs out, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist. he stares down at billy, and the gun is within gator's reach. ]
Remember when I said I'd kill you?
[ a slow smile, one that's menacing, cruel, and downright mean in the way it taunts. he lowers himself onto his haunches, fingers dipping below the water shallowly to flick some on billy's face. this is illegal, this is wrong, but so is denying gator anything that he wants. his eyes hit billy's, and he licks his bottom lip. ]
I'll kill you if you run. If I don't get the chance, hell -
[ he shrugs his shoulders, looking back down at the water for a moment, giving a firm nod. he then sidelines billy with his gaze, head tilted a bit. he stares at billy, strong, hard - ]
[ Billy freezes up in Gator's grip, forever the rabbit, forever his prey. Whatever idea he had in his head of this being a fun little sleepover, just a once-in-a-while indulgence he'd give to him, all of his soft, stupid feelings he'd felt just because he'd warmed him up, washed him - they're all gone now. His lips quiver as he stares back at Gator, eyes welling up with tears, knowing full well he'll only get more angry if he closes them or looks away.
Then he's thrown back, narrowly missing hitting his head hard on the edge of the tub. He gasps, clutching at his throat as Gator gets out of the bath, and he feels so damn small. Like a kid again, being told - this is the way things are, whether you like it or not. ]
I remember. I remember.
[ Billy covers his mouth to stifle a sob, tears streaking his face as Gator lowers himself, getting in close. If he wanted him dead, right now, it'd be so easy. Drag him outside, into the dark, no one around to witness it who wouldn't be glad to see him go. There's nowhere to run, and no one to miss him if he were to disappear. He swipes at his eyes with wet hands, suddenly feeling cold again. ]
I won't run. I promise I won't run, daddy, I swear. [ It's hard to keep his voice down when it keeps breaking. ] J-Just take me to get my stuff tomorrow, please. My car - I don't wanna leave my car. I can go with Bowman if you can't, just - please.
[ There's a few other mementos he's held onto, but they're in his car too. Things of his mom's, few and far between. Neil destroyed the rest - best to forget she ever existed, erase her from memory. ]
[ run, rabbit! run! gator means it when he says that his father would do it. there's no running from roy tillman, and gator knows it. billy should by this point, too, but there's no accounting for brains between his eyes. gator figures that if he put a gun in his mouth, dust would blow out. his lips purse, eyes dangerous as they gaze at billy, watching him panic and cry. such a fucking pussy. gator clicks his tongue, eyes still very focused, lethal.
he reaches out, two fingers under billy's chin. a smirk forms, but it doesn't meet his gaze. his eyes are dark and cold - just as his father's stare gets. it's cyclic, each of them hard where they should be soft. his heart doesn't pound, it doesn't flutter, it beats calmly. nothing is pumping between ventricles that would indicate kindness. he turns billy's head to meet his eyes, and he finally speaks after billy's blubbering questions and requests. ]
I'll go with you. You can have your fuckin' car.
[ standing again, he releases billy's chin. he picks up his uniform, then snatches the glock from its holster. he flips the safety off, then back on. he points it at billy, one eye closed. ]
Bang.
[ he lowers it, grinning. billy has to learn - he has to be broken into pieces. gator's on his way to that, knowing that it only takes a tip of the scales. being afraid of him isn't enough - billy has to be obsessed, had to be pliable. gator wants that, wants billy utterly dependent. that's what the compound is - no escape. conform or turn to compost. ]
[ His mind is racing, struggling to truly take in everything this means. Billy's never so much as seen the compound in the daylight, doesn't know how big it is, what's there, who's there. He's been in one goddamn room. But it doesn't matter if he wants to be there or not - he can be there, or he can be in the ground. Plain and simple. It's crushing, and he feels paralyzed by it as Gator stares him down, fingers under his chin.
It's stupid, he knows it is, being sentimental about his belongings. There isn't much, at this point. He'd already left a lot behind with Neil and sold most of the rest. But they're his, even when nothing else is. The idea of a stranger going through them, determining what's worth something and what isn't, throwing it all together - it makes him sick. If nothing else, can't he have that one small dignity? ]
Thanks.
[ Billy flinches when Gator raises his gun, and for that split second he envisions his skull shattering, his brains a spray against the tile. He disappears, and no one misses him. He's shut out his family, never connected on a deeper level with anyone else after moving here. Friendships were superficial, disappeared along with team sports and bush parties. So now he has Gator, just Gator.
This is why he's Gator's bitch. It's not just because he acts like a bitch, crying and pleading and feeling his stupid fucking feelings. It's the obsession, the craving for his attention and praise. It's because feels like no one else will ever give it, not the way he does, and that's just another reason why Billy deserves to be treated this way. He brought it upon himself, didn't he? Playing with fire, again and again, after being burned so many times.
He wraps his arms around himself, shuddering, blinking away his last few tears. It's been a long night, and though his body is exhausted, his thoughts are still frantic. There's nothing else he can do about this tonight, save for maybe get back on Gator's good side, if he can. ]
[ the way billy folds in on himself, broken, but not enough - not yet. he's yet to become completely and utterly subservient, to become completely and utterly dependent. he wants to be billy's god, his lover, his man. gator lowers the gun completely, then nods at the stack of towels near the bathtub. all placed nicely, put there by roy's wife of the week. he smiles at billy. broad, almost sweet. ]
Get out, babygirl.
[ gator then towels off, drying his hair, it sticking up in all directions as he begins to dry his body. he figures that once billy gets comfortable in gator's bed, that it might help. it should. he doesn't see this as kidnapping, but making a place for them to be happy. freedom lies in the arms of the compound, and if billy wants his precious belongings, he'll play along in gator's fantasy. plain, cut-and-dried. gator towels the back of his neck, turning to billy with both brows raised. ]
You really are scared, aren'tcha?
[ a simple question, one that rides gator's tongue with curiosity. he purses his lips, a faux frown. he knows that billy might be upset, but this is what his future looks like. he and gator, one entwined with the other. he doesn't see that as a problem - he thought billy would be happy. what an ungrateful little cunt. he's beginning to feel irritation, so he focuses his attention on the mirror, wiping it down. ]
[ Billy pulls the plug from the drain before he stands, still unsteady on his feet, more from nerves than the liquor. A part of him wonders if he'll ever grow used to Gator pointing a gun his way, if there will come a time where it's not enough to make him submit. Another part knows that's insane, but the goalposts keep moving, inch by inch. What he'll accept keeps shifting, and it brought him all the way here. Captive.
He dries off as much as he can before stepping out of the tub, the large bathroom feeling so small now, suffocating. Gator turns to him again, asks, you really are scared, aren'tcha? Billy swallows as he considers the question, bringing the towel up to his head to squeeze water out of his curls.
Scared feels too simple a word, just one facet of what he feels for Gator. He wishes he could pluck away the small things, the good things: being held in his arms, warmed by his bathwater, fingers in his hair, shh, baby, you're my girl. Take them, build a man out of them who could love him. Men like that aren't real, Billy knows, and if they were, they wouldn't love him. He wouldn't love them either, too sick, always craving self-destruction.
He presses his lips together into a flat line, desperate to stop any more tears from flowing as he answers. ]
Isn't that what you wanted?
[ His breath hitches in his throat as he holds the towel to his chest. He has to consider his words carefully. Would he understand more if he told Gator about the way he grew up, what he's already run from? Or would it only be fuel for the fire? ]
It's not everything I feel for you. You know that, right?
[ gator watches billy in the mirror, both arms on the sides of the porcelain. he watches him dry, pulling the towel up to his hair, the red-rimmed lines around his eyes attempting to hold back more tears. it's pathetic to gator, seeing billy cry all the time, watching him wallow in his own misery like a selfish little pussy, when gator's done all he can to be accommodating. this is roy's house, true, but gator's influence still runs through the compound. roy's allowing this, so gator figures that billy should be grateful he didn't get a bullet to the brain within five minutes of meeting roy. he swallows, lowering his head, jaw tense as he tries to lower the tension in his body. his urge is to slap billy, to hurt him, to throw him to the ground.
be happy. love me. do as i say.
he understands, for the most part, that people can't be controlled - but that's unfair. he wants to control billy, wants to be his only thing, wants to be his obsession - it's only right, as gator's thoughts are nothing but billy running through, smiling, glad that gator has given him his precious attention. he didn't have to go after billy, didn't have to become infatuated, as if gator had any choice. he saw those big, bright eyes - and it was over. billy is his favorite toy, but he won't listen. he never listens. he's like a bad animal, and gator has to keep at it until billy understands. will he ever? gator hopes so, or this will all have been for nothing as he buries billy's body outside of the compound.
it's almost as if billy wants that.
gator pushes himself off of the sink, turning, leaning on it by his naked body. he folds his arms over his chest, head tilted as he hears those last words: it's not everything i feel for you. lies, probably, billy's attitude needing an adjustment. gator's eyes narrow, and he rolls his tongue over his molars, irritated. angry. not full of rage, but more frustrated - why can't billy just become pliable on his own? why doesn't he live for gator? why doesn't he bend the knee and love him? ]
You're a fuckin' liar.
[ turning back to the mirror, gator pulls his toothbrush from its holder. he squeezes toothpaste onto it, then turns on the sink, wetting. he begins to brush his teeth, nonchalant, but that's always the first sign that something's wrong. he takes his time, brushing his teeth in a way that's calm. ordinary. as if this is domestic, normal. as if this is all right. billy will understand one day, or gator will kill him. or roy will. or someone else. he's bound to a ditch, rotting, but gator doesn't want that to happen. ]
Goddamn fuckin' liar.
[ he spits the toothpaste, washing it down the drain. he wipes his mouth with the towel, then gazes at billy over his shoulder. his eyes narrow again, and he places his toothbrush back. he has to work harder, it seems, to get billy to see things his way. ]
[ You're a fuckin' liar. The words burn his eyes as they hang in the air between them, and Billy clenches his jaw as he sits on the edge of the bathtub. Is this their new normal? Heart pounding in his chest as Gator fumes with rage, trying to find some way to bring him back down?
He says he'll kill Billy if he runs, but he's not convinced that it'll even take that much. There have been too many close calls already, brought on by the smallest things, and those weren't on Tillman property. Sure, they reign over this whole county, but there's a difference between doing it out there in the real world and here, on what could be acres upon acres of land guarded by men ordered to shoot on sight.
He'd thought it sounded like a prison long before he came here. Now he knows he was right. ]
I'm not lying.
[ His word is never enough. Gator demands devotion, sacrifice, obedience, and he'll break Billy down until he gets it exactly on his terms. And if not? Then he finally pulls the trigger, and Gator finds someone else who'll break more neatly. Someone better.
The question stuns him, lips parted. He's thought it what feels like a million times, that whatever this is, it must be some kind of love, dark and twisted. Nothing else could make someone so crazy, make someone as willing to hurt as he is for Gator. Even now, fearful for his life, his whole world shaken as his new life is dictated to him - Billy wants to love him, to be loved in return. ]
Gator...
[ Billy almost never calls him by name. Even before daddy became his go-to for him, it just didn't feel quite right in his mouth. Too casual, maybe, in their roles as master and servant. Man and girl. Billy is property, not a lover. And yet he wants so badly to prove his worthiness to him. ]
I love you. Like I've never loved anybody, ever. That scares me. I'm scared of not making you happy. I'm scared of this place. None of that means I don't love you. [ He sniffles, staring up at him. ] Why don't you believe me?
[ i'm not lying. gator spits again, then turns his full attention to billy. his arms are by his side, supporting his lean on the sink. he tilts his head, dark eyes devouring billy with mean, angry doubt. billy doesn't love him, as far as gator is concerned. in his mind, this is a safe place. warm, somewhere he can make for he and billy. there's nowhere safer, nowhere else that has this level of not to be fucked with, and that is a blanket over billy now. to do as he pleases, but under gator's control. that's the rub, the puppet strings tied not on billy's limbs, but by his throat.
gator hears billy's words, head lowered, tongue trailing over his top teeth. he doesn't look at him, not yet, nodding along, pretending that all of this is normal - as if this is communication. when billy says he's scared of this place, gator's head snaps up. his eyes are wild, as if he's been accused of something. why don't you believe me? gator's fingers twitch, aching to give billy a strong backhand. he doesn't, however, settled against the sink as if he's been kicked in the gut. billy says a lot of things - and most of it is bullshit. you're sick, leave me alone then i shouldn't have told you to leave. what is it, really? which one? the pendulum swings between love and hate, and gator doesn't get that. ]
You're gonna have to prove that.
[ again, gator considers the words about the compound scaring billy, and that's when gator's lips purse, his brow knitting. he begins to dress completely, silent as he pulls himself into his pajama pants last. he's tense, too tense, this conversation not going as he'd planned or hoped. billy's terrified, and he's supposed to feel comfort. this is gator's generosity. this is the tillman promise to let billy into the fold. that takes trust - especially on gator's part. he brought billy here to live, not shrivel up and cry. when he's dressed, gator's eyes hit billy's again. ]
This -
[ he points between them, finger curling this way and that. ]
You ain't supposed to be scared of here. This is supposed to be good. You're ruinin' it.
[ you ruin everything. gator nods toward billy's pajamas, then steps toward the door. he presses his hand to the center of the wood, but he doesn't unlock the door. not yet. not when billy's sitting there naked as all hell. gator lowers his head once more, and he wants to punch something. he wants to rip and tear. this isn't what he wants and he hates that. more than anything.
[ Gator doesn't look at him for a long while, and that only adds to the dread building in Billy's guts. He's not sure if he fears him more when he's quiet, thinking, or when he snaps to anger. When their eyes do meet, he freezes up again, expecting Gator to cross the small distance between them and hit him, choke him, something.
Of course he'll have to prove it. Billy can never be trusted, but he's supposed to trust Gator implicitly.
He's still hugging the towel to his chest, the silence like ice in his veins. He finally moves to get dressed as Gator speaks, tugging a t-shirt over his head, stepping into warm, well worn flannel. ]
I don't wanna be scared. But I've never even been here before, Gator.
[ You fit here. I don't. It goes without saying, really. And now Billy wonders if he'll ever get to leave. If they'll even go to his apartment tomorrow to get his things. It feels like he never left home now, trapped in his bedroom, banging on the locked door. His nostrils flare as he breathes, still trying his best to hold back tears. He's such a fucking pussy. No wonder he's here. ]
That stupid shithole apartment - that's the first place I ever lived where I wasn't scared shitless of coming home. My whole fuckin' life. Ain't even been there six months.
[ Gator's not going to care, and it's definitely not going to sway him. This is just another thing he can leverage against him, proof that he's a bitch and always has been. Billy's little taste of freedom, and he'd squandered it.
You'll never fucking understand. He lets out a breath, slow and shaky. ]
[ gator doesn't care about billy's stupid fucking apartment, and while he wants to voice that, he allows billy to finish his words. gator is still against the door, fingers curling into a fist. he's not going to hit billy - he's not, but the urge is strong in his veins, his tense muscles. they were fine a few minutes ago - so why did that have to change? billy, happy, warm, being bathed and taken care of. gator's eyes well up, and he hates that more than he can process.
he thumps his fist against the door softly, eyes still focused on the floor. roy let him in, roy gave him to gator to watch. that's responsibility, that's care. it's as if billy's a pet, a dog, something for gator to run around with. he wants billy wrapped around his finger, totally broken, but this isn't a step he thought would end like this. he doesn't understand, and that makes him feel broken in places he doesn't like to think about. goddamn billy fucking hargrove. if gator could take all of this back, he would. billy's ungrateful. that's where to put the rage, that's where to put the years of spent anger. he sniffles, then presses his head to the door. ]
It don't matter. You want that instead of me.
[ sulking, gator unlocks the door. he turns back to his uniform and picks it up, gun heavy in his hand. he stares at billy, and it's clear, two tears falling, that he's in pain. he's fucked this up, just like he does everything else. roy won't like this, he knows it, but billy hasn't seen anything. he knows, of course he knows, but so does the rest of town. gator isn't to be trifled with even on a good day, his mood constantly sour by the taste of billy hargrove on his tongue. he wipes his eyes, then sniffles one last time. ]
Bowman'll take you back to your shithole tomorrow. You good with that, you fuckin' crybaby? You're gettin' your way again. That's what you want, isn't it?
[ his jaw sets, eyes narrowed. he could hit billy now, and it would be a release. he doesn't, however, still true to his thought that this is safe. billy's just a fucking idiot, he can't see, he doesn't understand. gator despises that down to his core, every inch of his body wanting to reach forward and beat billy until he's unconscious, but he... can't. instead, he lowers his chin again, then heads toward the door. ]
[ Billy folds his arms over his chest, flinches as Gator's fist hits the door with a soft thud. He's holding back, at least for now, so he may as well be grateful for that. Maybe it's mercy, more likely it's not wanting to make too much noise under the sheriff's roof this late at night.
Gator sniffles, and Billy aches hearing it, even more when he turns to him, tears rolling down his cheeks. He's so fucked, finds himself wanting to reach out, brush them away like Gator wouldn't snap his wrist for trying. He lowers his gaze to the floor, taking in a deep breath as he gathers his clothing and boots. ]
Can't I want that and want you?
[ No. He already knows the answer is no before the words finish leaving his mouth. Gator is all or nothing, black and white. What he says goes, and any little scraps he feeds Billy should be savored with endless gratitude. And he does, every time. Billy's gaze flickers up to meet Gator's stare, eyes cold even as they shine from his tears. ]
I'll go with Bowman. Thank you.
[ With that, Billy follows Gator toward the door, guilt and defeat both gnawing at his insides with each step. ]
[ can't i want that and want you? gator rounds on billy, quick, finger pointed up and at billy's chest. his jaw sets - rage flares, red on red on red. his eyes glitter with malice, and he steps up billy, squared up, eyes boring into billy's with rage. he presses his finger into billy's skin, but not hard enough to hurt. a point is being made, but that's all. gator knows better, and he promised himself, that he wouldn't beat billy tonight. he doesn't want to, though it's crawling up his guts. he licks his lips, a swipe of his tongue. ]
See, that's where you're fuckin' wrong, sweetheart. There ain't no me without this place, and you fucked it up. I was gonna protect you here, I was gonna open it up for us.
[ gator's jaw flexes, and he backs off, chest rising and falling with anger. he steadies himself, standing straight, and he can't help the disappointment, the ravenous hunger to make billy bleed for this. he turns back to the door, opens it, then walks down the warm hallway. he doesn't give a fuck if billy follows, or if he runs away. this is him rejecting gator, and gator can't stand it. he walks into his room, standing near the left edge of the bed. he folds his arms, head lowered. if billy decides to take off - so be it. he won't chase him forever, especially now that he's turned it down.
gator doesn't know why he even tries anymore, stomach flipping unpleasantly. he hates this, so he paces a bit, brows knit. this isn't the right thing, it's the wrong thing. billy leaving is the wrong thing. gator keeping him here is the right thing. he knows that, he understands it, but he can't keep doing this with billy. maybe the addiction needs to be broken, maybe he needs to find someone else. someone better. someone easier to bend. as he debates this, he picks up one of his vapes from the bedside table. he takes a long drag, blowing the smoke upward. ]
[ Gator's in his face, finger pressing into his chest, but Billy forces himself not to shrink back. He wants to be strong, unafraid, believable when he tells Gator he loves him, he wants him. It's a stupid, foolish thing to want. He's never been good enough, never will be until Gator's completely broken down every last piece of what makes him himself. It's insane, he knows it, and yet his instincts force his tongue: ]
I'm sorry.
[ Gator heads down the hall, and Billy doesn't even consider the idea of not following. Even if he were to run, where would he go, barefoot in pajamas, no car, miles and miles from anything familiar?
He closes the door behind them once he steps into Gator's room, and his eyes don't know where to focus. The lamplight is dim, but it's enough to illuminate the walls, covered in photos of busty blonde swimsuit models, hot rods, horror movies. That much reminds him of his room back in San Diego. Don't tread on me, emblazoned on top of a Confederate flag right above the bed. Taxidermy, animal skulls. Billy shivers.
He looks closer still: sports trophies, crude, childish drawings. Wooden cars and trucks. It strikes him that he's never bothered to find out how old Gator actually is. No wonder he's acting like a goddamn fuckin' child, he thinks. That's what he is, a child, a big fuckin' manbaby who can't stand the thought of parting with his favorite toy. Billy's just another thing to keep on his shelf.
Billy pushes that thought away, afraid of it showing in his face. It won't help him now, not when the only other conclusion screaming out at him is I am going to fucking die here.
He breathes deep, daring to take a couple of steps toward Gator. ]
[ it's a mumble, gator pouting, his childish antics beyond him. he sits on the edge of the bed, his back to billy, before he takes another drag. his room is the same as any young man's, save for the redneck ideology. a taxidermy wolf's head looks down on him from the wall, the constant reminder that if gator isn't here, he's thrown out to them. roy is the real wolf, and that's why he's there, though gator killed the wolf himself. that'll never happen, not again. smoke blows from his lips, and he scowls. billy asks where to put his stuff, and gator points to his desk, wordless. he doesn't know what he could say to make billy stay, his fucking bullshit life too important to him to give up. even for love.
gator keeps his place, rolling the vape pen between his fingers, giving them something to do besides wrap around billy's throat. he lifts it to his mouth again, the third pull from it tinged with sour apple. he blows the smoke, then tosses it onto his bedside table. he doesn't look at billy β too pissed to, too angry, too disappointed. his mouth purses, then forms a line. if this is what billy wants β then gator's out. he's giving him his heart, and billy's fucked that up for the last time, in his eyes. ]
I don't give a shit what you do. Sleep here, sleep on the floor. Doesn't fuckin' matter.
[ and with that, gator stands, pulling back his blankets and sheets to crawl into bed. his head hits the pillow, hard, irritated. he stares at a horror poster, michael myers' gaze connecting with his own. he doesn't even want to pretend billy's here with him, so he reaches up and turns off one of the lamps. ]
[ Billy piles his clothes in a neat pile on Gator's desk, boots tucked away underneath it on the floor. Gator won't so much as look at him, and it's now that Billy feels truly insane for being here, for letting things go this far. He's lost himself. And for what? A pouting goddamn child. A pouting goddamn child who won't hesitate to put a bullet between his eyes, or at least make daddy do it for him.
His hands crumple into fists at his sides, squeezing. He'd never let anyone treat him like this. He's started fights for much, much less. Broken noses, wrists, just to teach a lesson. Nobody fucked with Billy Hargrove, not before Gator Tillman came along and decided he wanted to own him. And there's only one man who can tell Gator no.
If Billy had his car, he'd be in it now, liquor in his bloodstream be damned. Make a quick stop at home, grab everything he can fit in one bag, and drive. But there's no sense in dreaming about it now. He breathes deep, squeezes again, letting go as he exhales. The rage is still there, but letting out would be suicide.
He already knows he won't fall asleep. So if he's going to lie awake, he may as well do it on a bed and not on the floor like a goddamn dog. Pulse thudding, he approaches Gator's bed, sinking down onto it as gently as he can. It's comfortable, he'll give it that. His own mattress has been on the floor since Gator broke his bed frame. He's on his back, staring up at the ceiling, a hundred violent fantasies playing before his eyes. ]
[ gator falls asleep angry. he knows he shouldn't β but he's pissed beyond belief, dreams fitful as he scowls against his pillow. no snoring, but plenty of mumbled words. gator talking in his sleep has always been a thing, but now, as he slips into numbing dreams β he sees roy standing above him, berating him, kicking him in the ribs.
my son, the fuckin' queer.
again, pain β the hurt causes gator to mutter: but i love him, daddy. it's a whisper, dry throat croaking it out. he's beaten further, this time his father leaning over him: no, you don't. man doesn't love man. it's a cold statement, and gator's body tightens as if he's waiting for the killing blow. it never comes β roy just walks away, carrying a shotgun. in the dream, gator knows where he's going, and he scrambles, screaming. his throat closes in his sleep, and he whispers: no, please, daddy, don't. he hisses, teeth bared as he rolls onto his other side.
he's against billy, body warm, hand reaching out to grab billy around the waist. don't, please, don't do it, he's mine. chasing roy in the dream seems impossible β he can never keep up, legs running behind his father's strides. he tenses again in his sleep, eyelids fluttering with anxiety. when roy arrives at the barn, he kicks the door open β gator wakes, sitting up, hand at his chest. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
We got them around here. I generally just layer up. That'll teach you to run around in them open shirts.
[ gator lifts his leg, placing it on the side of the tub near billy. he's comfortable, head leaned to the side, and he watches billy with something stirring deep within. he swallows, adam's apple bobbing with it, and he nods at billy's washcloth. ]
My turn.
[ it isn't normal - far from it. kidnapping, holding a hostage, bathing with him. none of it makes sense, but billy's laughing and smiling and it fits into gator's mind like the last piece of a puzzle. this was always supposed to happen. he was supposed to bring him here, to make him his. as selfish as it is - gator hasn't been taught any different. from roy, from the rest of the men at the compound. this is love, isn't it? gator leans his head back, but he doesn't close his eyes. they shine, something gentle in them, his toes playing at billy's bicep. ]
Wash me.
no subject
You like me in them open shirts. Well - now on, forget it. Gonna get me a big-ass parka and never take it off.
[ He watches, eyebrow raised, as Gator lifts one leg out of the water, a smirk curling over his lips as his foot rests against his bicep. Billy dunks his washcloth under the water, squeezing some of it out before bringing it up to wash over the top of Gator's foot, up his calf, slow and careful. When he can't reach any further from where he's sitting, Billy shifts, tucking one leg in toward himself while he scoots forward, bringing the cloth up along Gator's thigh, blue eyes meeting his again. ]
You gonna keep me warm all winter?
no subject
I'll keep you warm, now. Don'tcha think I'm warm?
[ his hand reaches up, still wet, running through the strands of his hair, gel releases here and there. strands fall, his body moving a bit as he gets comfortable against billy. he leans up, kissing him, mouthing at his lips, opening his own. they kiss for what seems like hours - gator's hand guiding billy again, only to his abdomen. not yet. he nips at his bottom lip, soft, eyes on eyes. ]
Real warm.
[ like the tease he is, gator nestles against the back of the tub again. he watches billy, licking a remnant of his saliva off of his lips. he doesn't think anything carnal should happen, not now, anyway. he merely leans his head back, closing his eyes. the steam rises from the water, the windows and mirror fogged up. ]
no subject
Mmhmm. Got me warmin' up real nice, daddy.
[ Billy's always weak for his kisses, opens up eagerly to him as his hands linger on Gator's inner thighs. He's in no hurry to rush things along, warm and lazy now, content to languish in this strangely intimate, strangely domestic moment. Gator guides his hand again, this time to his abdomen, and Billy smiles against his mouth, running the washcloth over the firm muscles there. ]
Warmer than warm. Think there might be a word for that, maybe.
[ Gator leans back again, and Billy decides to tease, too. He dunks the washcloth in the water again and starts to wash Gator's other leg, starting at the foot, working his way up and flashing him a grin. ]
no subject
You'll be happy here, baby.
[ and you'll be mine. gator releases billy's hand, staring at him lovingly, as if praise would fall from his tongue again. he doesn't understand that what he's done is wrong. kidnapping is what it is, but that's the tillman way, isn't it? take what you want, don't apologize. do what you please, because there are no consequences. ]
Bowman'll probably bring your stuff tomorrow. You gotta get used to the bedroom, still.
no subject
But then he keeps talking, and Billy knits his brows together, wondering if maybe he's just still too drunk to follow his train of thought. His intuition says otherwise, though, and his heart is sinking fast as he struggles to put words together. ]
What're you talking about?
[ His voice feels too small for his body, like if he were any further from Gator he wouldn't be able to hear him. ]
I don't want Bowman -- you said - I-I don't need my stuff. It's one night.
[ His fingers are still pressed to Gator's pec, his eyes suddenly wide, fearful as they study Gator's. ]
Right?
oop.
Now, baby, that's where you don't get it.
[ he clicks his tongue, mouth pulling down in mock frown. he rests his hand on billy's shoulder now, thumb rubbing the muscle at the dip of his neck. he frowns again, but it's more pouty than anything else, as if batting his eyelashes will somehow get him his way. no one has told him this is wrong, but some part of him suffocates it until its no longer breathing. there is nothing here but rules, the law of what's right and what's wrong - gator knows this is right.
he tips his head back and forth, wincing a bit, but dangerously. he leans back against the tub again, both legs on top of billy's knees. he sighs, head on his fist as he supports it. he smiles. ]
You're gonna be here with me.
oops! all kidnapping β₯
He withdraws his hand, shaking his head, like telling Gator no has ever gotten him what he wanted. Hell, the one time it did, he came running back anyway, begging for a second chance. But this - Billy hates every part of the idea of it. Being trapped here, with no space of his own, no freedom, under the roof of a man he doesn't know and doesn't want to know. Even the idea of Bowman going through his stuff makes his stomach churn. ]
I - I can't just - I've got a lease, a job... And -- what about your family? They don't want someone like me here.
[ He's sobering up fast now, chest rising and falling as each breath comes more quickly than the last. Even if he weren't drunk and tired, Billy has no idea how he could talk himself out of this. It's his own fault. It always is. ]
Can't we talk about this?
no subject
You don't get it, do you?
[ it's hissed through teeth, said with such angry disdain. his voice is still soft, and he does not want to alarm anyone in the house, especially his father. his grip tightens, billy's face turning a sweet shade of red. gator knows what he wants, and he aims to get it. that's billy, here, in this house for the rest of their lives. his best girl, his only girl, his wife. he lets go of billy, shoving him back against the other side of the tub. gator then climbs out, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist. he stares down at billy, and the gun is within gator's reach. ]
Remember when I said I'd kill you?
[ a slow smile, one that's menacing, cruel, and downright mean in the way it taunts. he lowers himself onto his haunches, fingers dipping below the water shallowly to flick some on billy's face. this is illegal, this is wrong, but so is denying gator anything that he wants. his eyes hit billy's, and he licks his bottom lip. ]
I'll kill you if you run. If I don't get the chance, hell -
[ he shrugs his shoulders, looking back down at the water for a moment, giving a firm nod. he then sidelines billy with his gaze, head tilted a bit. he stares at billy, strong, hard - ]
My dad will.
no subject
Then he's thrown back, narrowly missing hitting his head hard on the edge of the tub. He gasps, clutching at his throat as Gator gets out of the bath, and he feels so damn small. Like a kid again, being told - this is the way things are, whether you like it or not. ]
I remember. I remember.
[ Billy covers his mouth to stifle a sob, tears streaking his face as Gator lowers himself, getting in close. If he wanted him dead, right now, it'd be so easy. Drag him outside, into the dark, no one around to witness it who wouldn't be glad to see him go. There's nowhere to run, and no one to miss him if he were to disappear. He swipes at his eyes with wet hands, suddenly feeling cold again. ]
I won't run. I promise I won't run, daddy, I swear. [ It's hard to keep his voice down when it keeps breaking. ] J-Just take me to get my stuff tomorrow, please. My car - I don't wanna leave my car. I can go with Bowman if you can't, just - please.
[ There's a few other mementos he's held onto, but they're in his car too. Things of his mom's, few and far between. Neil destroyed the rest - best to forget she ever existed, erase her from memory. ]
no subject
he reaches out, two fingers under billy's chin. a smirk forms, but it doesn't meet his gaze. his eyes are dark and cold - just as his father's stare gets. it's cyclic, each of them hard where they should be soft. his heart doesn't pound, it doesn't flutter, it beats calmly. nothing is pumping between ventricles that would indicate kindness. he turns billy's head to meet his eyes, and he finally speaks after billy's blubbering questions and requests. ]
I'll go with you. You can have your fuckin' car.
[ standing again, he releases billy's chin. he picks up his uniform, then snatches the glock from its holster. he flips the safety off, then back on. he points it at billy, one eye closed. ]
Bang.
[ he lowers it, grinning. billy has to learn - he has to be broken into pieces. gator's on his way to that, knowing that it only takes a tip of the scales. being afraid of him isn't enough - billy has to be obsessed, had to be pliable. gator wants that, wants billy utterly dependent. that's what the compound is - no escape. conform or turn to compost. ]
no subject
It's stupid, he knows it is, being sentimental about his belongings. There isn't much, at this point. He'd already left a lot behind with Neil and sold most of the rest. But they're his, even when nothing else is. The idea of a stranger going through them, determining what's worth something and what isn't, throwing it all together - it makes him sick. If nothing else, can't he have that one small dignity? ]
Thanks.
[ Billy flinches when Gator raises his gun, and for that split second he envisions his skull shattering, his brains a spray against the tile. He disappears, and no one misses him. He's shut out his family, never connected on a deeper level with anyone else after moving here. Friendships were superficial, disappeared along with team sports and bush parties. So now he has Gator, just Gator.
This is why he's Gator's bitch. It's not just because he acts like a bitch, crying and pleading and feeling his stupid fucking feelings. It's the obsession, the craving for his attention and praise. It's because feels like no one else will ever give it, not the way he does, and that's just another reason why Billy deserves to be treated this way. He brought it upon himself, didn't he? Playing with fire, again and again, after being burned so many times.
He wraps his arms around himself, shuddering, blinking away his last few tears. It's been a long night, and though his body is exhausted, his thoughts are still frantic. There's nothing else he can do about this tonight, save for maybe get back on Gator's good side, if he can. ]
Should I get out now?
no subject
Get out, babygirl.
[ gator then towels off, drying his hair, it sticking up in all directions as he begins to dry his body. he figures that once billy gets comfortable in gator's bed, that it might help. it should. he doesn't see this as kidnapping, but making a place for them to be happy. freedom lies in the arms of the compound, and if billy wants his precious belongings, he'll play along in gator's fantasy. plain, cut-and-dried. gator towels the back of his neck, turning to billy with both brows raised. ]
You really are scared, aren'tcha?
[ a simple question, one that rides gator's tongue with curiosity. he purses his lips, a faux frown. he knows that billy might be upset, but this is what his future looks like. he and gator, one entwined with the other. he doesn't see that as a problem - he thought billy would be happy. what an ungrateful little cunt. he's beginning to feel irritation, so he focuses his attention on the mirror, wiping it down. ]
You're scared of me.
no subject
He dries off as much as he can before stepping out of the tub, the large bathroom feeling so small now, suffocating. Gator turns to him again, asks, you really are scared, aren'tcha? Billy swallows as he considers the question, bringing the towel up to his head to squeeze water out of his curls.
Scared feels too simple a word, just one facet of what he feels for Gator. He wishes he could pluck away the small things, the good things: being held in his arms, warmed by his bathwater, fingers in his hair, shh, baby, you're my girl. Take them, build a man out of them who could love him. Men like that aren't real, Billy knows, and if they were, they wouldn't love him. He wouldn't love them either, too sick, always craving self-destruction.
He presses his lips together into a flat line, desperate to stop any more tears from flowing as he answers. ]
Isn't that what you wanted?
[ His breath hitches in his throat as he holds the towel to his chest. He has to consider his words carefully. Would he understand more if he told Gator about the way he grew up, what he's already run from? Or would it only be fuel for the fire? ]
It's not everything I feel for you. You know that, right?
no subject
be happy. love me. do as i say.
he understands, for the most part, that people can't be controlled - but that's unfair. he wants to control billy, wants to be his only thing, wants to be his obsession - it's only right, as gator's thoughts are nothing but billy running through, smiling, glad that gator has given him his precious attention. he didn't have to go after billy, didn't have to become infatuated, as if gator had any choice. he saw those big, bright eyes - and it was over. billy is his favorite toy, but he won't listen. he never listens. he's like a bad animal, and gator has to keep at it until billy understands. will he ever? gator hopes so, or this will all have been for nothing as he buries billy's body outside of the compound.
it's almost as if billy wants that.
gator pushes himself off of the sink, turning, leaning on it by his naked body. he folds his arms over his chest, head tilted as he hears those last words: it's not everything i feel for you. lies, probably, billy's attitude needing an adjustment. gator's eyes narrow, and he rolls his tongue over his molars, irritated. angry. not full of rage, but more frustrated - why can't billy just become pliable on his own? why doesn't he live for gator? why doesn't he bend the knee and love him? ]
You're a fuckin' liar.
[ turning back to the mirror, gator pulls his toothbrush from its holder. he squeezes toothpaste onto it, then turns on the sink, wetting. he begins to brush his teeth, nonchalant, but that's always the first sign that something's wrong. he takes his time, brushing his teeth in a way that's calm. ordinary. as if this is domestic, normal. as if this is all right. billy will understand one day, or gator will kill him. or roy will. or someone else. he's bound to a ditch, rotting, but gator doesn't want that to happen. ]
Goddamn fuckin' liar.
[ he spits the toothpaste, washing it down the drain. he wipes his mouth with the towel, then gazes at billy over his shoulder. his eyes narrow again, and he places his toothbrush back. he has to work harder, it seems, to get billy to see things his way. ]
Why don't you love me?
no subject
He says he'll kill Billy if he runs, but he's not convinced that it'll even take that much. There have been too many close calls already, brought on by the smallest things, and those weren't on Tillman property. Sure, they reign over this whole county, but there's a difference between doing it out there in the real world and here, on what could be acres upon acres of land guarded by men ordered to shoot on sight.
He'd thought it sounded like a prison long before he came here. Now he knows he was right. ]
I'm not lying.
[ His word is never enough. Gator demands devotion, sacrifice, obedience, and he'll break Billy down until he gets it exactly on his terms. And if not? Then he finally pulls the trigger, and Gator finds someone else who'll break more neatly. Someone better.
The question stuns him, lips parted. He's thought it what feels like a million times, that whatever this is, it must be some kind of love, dark and twisted. Nothing else could make someone so crazy, make someone as willing to hurt as he is for Gator. Even now, fearful for his life, his whole world shaken as his new life is dictated to him - Billy wants to love him, to be loved in return. ]
Gator...
[ Billy almost never calls him by name. Even before daddy became his go-to for him, it just didn't feel quite right in his mouth. Too casual, maybe, in their roles as master and servant. Man and girl. Billy is property, not a lover. And yet he wants so badly to prove his worthiness to him. ]
I love you. Like I've never loved anybody, ever. That scares me. I'm scared of not making you happy. I'm scared of this place. None of that means I don't love you. [ He sniffles, staring up at him. ] Why don't you believe me?
no subject
gator hears billy's words, head lowered, tongue trailing over his top teeth. he doesn't look at him, not yet, nodding along, pretending that all of this is normal - as if this is communication. when billy says he's scared of this place, gator's head snaps up. his eyes are wild, as if he's been accused of something. why don't you believe me? gator's fingers twitch, aching to give billy a strong backhand. he doesn't, however, settled against the sink as if he's been kicked in the gut. billy says a lot of things - and most of it is bullshit. you're sick, leave me alone then i shouldn't have told you to leave. what is it, really? which one? the pendulum swings between love and hate, and gator doesn't get that. ]
You're gonna have to prove that.
[ again, gator considers the words about the compound scaring billy, and that's when gator's lips purse, his brow knitting. he begins to dress completely, silent as he pulls himself into his pajama pants last. he's tense, too tense, this conversation not going as he'd planned or hoped. billy's terrified, and he's supposed to feel comfort. this is gator's generosity. this is the tillman promise to let billy into the fold. that takes trust - especially on gator's part. he brought billy here to live, not shrivel up and cry. when he's dressed, gator's eyes hit billy's again. ]
This -
[ he points between them, finger curling this way and that. ]
You ain't supposed to be scared of here. This is supposed to be good. You're ruinin' it.
[ you ruin everything. gator nods toward billy's pajamas, then steps toward the door. he presses his hand to the center of the wood, but he doesn't unlock the door. not yet. not when billy's sitting there naked as all hell. gator lowers his head once more, and he wants to punch something. he wants to rip and tear. this isn't what he wants and he hates that. more than anything.
and it's billy doing it. ]
You were supposed to be fuckin' happy.
no subject
Of course he'll have to prove it. Billy can never be trusted, but he's supposed to trust Gator implicitly.
He's still hugging the towel to his chest, the silence like ice in his veins. He finally moves to get dressed as Gator speaks, tugging a t-shirt over his head, stepping into warm, well worn flannel. ]
I don't wanna be scared. But I've never even been here before, Gator.
[ You fit here. I don't. It goes without saying, really. And now Billy wonders if he'll ever get to leave. If they'll even go to his apartment tomorrow to get his things. It feels like he never left home now, trapped in his bedroom, banging on the locked door. His nostrils flare as he breathes, still trying his best to hold back tears. He's such a fucking pussy. No wonder he's here. ]
That stupid shithole apartment - that's the first place I ever lived where I wasn't scared shitless of coming home. My whole fuckin' life. Ain't even been there six months.
[ Gator's not going to care, and it's definitely not going to sway him. This is just another thing he can leverage against him, proof that he's a bitch and always has been. Billy's little taste of freedom, and he'd squandered it.
You'll never fucking understand. He lets out a breath, slow and shaky. ]
'm sorry I ruined it.
no subject
he thumps his fist against the door softly, eyes still focused on the floor. roy let him in, roy gave him to gator to watch. that's responsibility, that's care. it's as if billy's a pet, a dog, something for gator to run around with. he wants billy wrapped around his finger, totally broken, but this isn't a step he thought would end like this. he doesn't understand, and that makes him feel broken in places he doesn't like to think about. goddamn billy fucking hargrove. if gator could take all of this back, he would. billy's ungrateful. that's where to put the rage, that's where to put the years of spent anger. he sniffles, then presses his head to the door. ]
It don't matter. You want that instead of me.
[ sulking, gator unlocks the door. he turns back to his uniform and picks it up, gun heavy in his hand. he stares at billy, and it's clear, two tears falling, that he's in pain. he's fucked this up, just like he does everything else. roy won't like this, he knows it, but billy hasn't seen anything. he knows, of course he knows, but so does the rest of town. gator isn't to be trifled with even on a good day, his mood constantly sour by the taste of billy hargrove on his tongue. he wipes his eyes, then sniffles one last time. ]
Bowman'll take you back to your shithole tomorrow. You good with that, you fuckin' crybaby? You're gettin' your way again. That's what you want, isn't it?
[ his jaw sets, eyes narrowed. he could hit billy now, and it would be a release. he doesn't, however, still true to his thought that this is safe. billy's just a fucking idiot, he can't see, he doesn't understand. gator despises that down to his core, every inch of his body wanting to reach forward and beat billy until he's unconscious, but he... can't. instead, he lowers his chin again, then heads toward the door. ]
Yeah, well, seems like you mean it this time.
no subject
Gator sniffles, and Billy aches hearing it, even more when he turns to him, tears rolling down his cheeks. He's so fucked, finds himself wanting to reach out, brush them away like Gator wouldn't snap his wrist for trying. He lowers his gaze to the floor, taking in a deep breath as he gathers his clothing and boots. ]
Can't I want that and want you?
[ No. He already knows the answer is no before the words finish leaving his mouth. Gator is all or nothing, black and white. What he says goes, and any little scraps he feeds Billy should be savored with endless gratitude. And he does, every time. Billy's gaze flickers up to meet Gator's stare, eyes cold even as they shine from his tears. ]
I'll go with Bowman. Thank you.
[ With that, Billy follows Gator toward the door, guilt and defeat both gnawing at his insides with each step. ]
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See, that's where you're fuckin' wrong, sweetheart. There ain't no me without this place, and you fucked it up. I was gonna protect you here, I was gonna open it up for us.
[ gator's jaw flexes, and he backs off, chest rising and falling with anger. he steadies himself, standing straight, and he can't help the disappointment, the ravenous hunger to make billy bleed for this. he turns back to the door, opens it, then walks down the warm hallway. he doesn't give a fuck if billy follows, or if he runs away. this is him rejecting gator, and gator can't stand it. he walks into his room, standing near the left edge of the bed. he folds his arms, head lowered. if billy decides to take off - so be it. he won't chase him forever, especially now that he's turned it down.
gator doesn't know why he even tries anymore, stomach flipping unpleasantly. he hates this, so he paces a bit, brows knit. this isn't the right thing, it's the wrong thing. billy leaving is the wrong thing. gator keeping him here is the right thing. he knows that, he understands it, but he can't keep doing this with billy. maybe the addiction needs to be broken, maybe he needs to find someone else. someone better. someone easier to bend. as he debates this, he picks up one of his vapes from the bedside table. he takes a long drag, blowing the smoke upward. ]
Fuckin' bitch.
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I'm sorry.
[ Gator heads down the hall, and Billy doesn't even consider the idea of not following. Even if he were to run, where would he go, barefoot in pajamas, no car, miles and miles from anything familiar?
He closes the door behind them once he steps into Gator's room, and his eyes don't know where to focus. The lamplight is dim, but it's enough to illuminate the walls, covered in photos of busty blonde swimsuit models, hot rods, horror movies. That much reminds him of his room back in San Diego. Don't tread on me, emblazoned on top of a Confederate flag right above the bed. Taxidermy, animal skulls. Billy shivers.
He looks closer still: sports trophies, crude, childish drawings. Wooden cars and trucks. It strikes him that he's never bothered to find out how old Gator actually is. No wonder he's acting like a goddamn fuckin' child, he thinks. That's what he is, a child, a big fuckin' manbaby who can't stand the thought of parting with his favorite toy. Billy's just another thing to keep on his shelf.
Billy pushes that thought away, afraid of it showing in his face. It won't help him now, not when the only other conclusion screaming out at him is I am going to fucking die here.
He breathes deep, daring to take a couple of steps toward Gator. ]
Where do you want me to put my stuff?
[ Where do you want me? ]
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[ it's a mumble, gator pouting, his childish antics beyond him. he sits on the edge of the bed, his back to billy, before he takes another drag. his room is the same as any young man's, save for the redneck ideology. a taxidermy wolf's head looks down on him from the wall, the constant reminder that if gator isn't here, he's thrown out to them. roy is the real wolf, and that's why he's there, though gator killed the wolf himself. that'll never happen, not again. smoke blows from his lips, and he scowls. billy asks where to put his stuff, and gator points to his desk, wordless. he doesn't know what he could say to make billy stay, his fucking bullshit life too important to him to give up. even for love.
gator keeps his place, rolling the vape pen between his fingers, giving them something to do besides wrap around billy's throat. he lifts it to his mouth again, the third pull from it tinged with sour apple. he blows the smoke, then tosses it onto his bedside table. he doesn't look at billy β too pissed to, too angry, too disappointed. his mouth purses, then forms a line. if this is what billy wants β then gator's out. he's giving him his heart, and billy's fucked that up for the last time, in his eyes. ]
I don't give a shit what you do. Sleep here, sleep on the floor. Doesn't fuckin' matter.
[ and with that, gator stands, pulling back his blankets and sheets to crawl into bed. his head hits the pillow, hard, irritated. he stares at a horror poster, michael myers' gaze connecting with his own. he doesn't even want to pretend billy's here with him, so he reaches up and turns off one of the lamps. ]
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His hands crumple into fists at his sides, squeezing. He'd never let anyone treat him like this. He's started fights for much, much less. Broken noses, wrists, just to teach a lesson. Nobody fucked with Billy Hargrove, not before Gator Tillman came along and decided he wanted to own him. And there's only one man who can tell Gator no.
If Billy had his car, he'd be in it now, liquor in his bloodstream be damned. Make a quick stop at home, grab everything he can fit in one bag, and drive. But there's no sense in dreaming about it now. He breathes deep, squeezes again, letting go as he exhales. The rage is still there, but letting out would be suicide.
He already knows he won't fall asleep. So if he's going to lie awake, he may as well do it on a bed and not on the floor like a goddamn dog. Pulse thudding, he approaches Gator's bed, sinking down onto it as gently as he can. It's comfortable, he'll give it that. His own mattress has been on the floor since Gator broke his bed frame. He's on his back, staring up at the ceiling, a hundred violent fantasies playing before his eyes. ]
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my son, the fuckin' queer.
again, pain β the hurt causes gator to mutter: but i love him, daddy. it's a whisper, dry throat croaking it out. he's beaten further, this time his father leaning over him: no, you don't. man doesn't love man. it's a cold statement, and gator's body tightens as if he's waiting for the killing blow. it never comes β roy just walks away, carrying a shotgun. in the dream, gator knows where he's going, and he scrambles, screaming. his throat closes in his sleep, and he whispers: no, please, daddy, don't. he hisses, teeth bared as he rolls onto his other side.
he's against billy, body warm, hand reaching out to grab billy around the waist. don't, please, don't do it, he's mine. chasing roy in the dream seems impossible β he can never keep up, legs running behind his father's strides. he tenses again in his sleep, eyelids fluttering with anxiety. when roy arrives at the barn, he kicks the door open β gator wakes, sitting up, hand at his chest. ]
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