[ 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. ]
[ Billy expects Gator to do something, say something. But he doesn't - he's really that fucking mad. His phone's dead in his jacket pocket, so there's really nothing for him to do but lie there, thoughts racing. He's tired, dead tired, but sleep just won't come. It feels like hours, probably is, the liquor finally catching up with him and settling into a buzzing headache.
Christ. If Gator's always this restless in his sleep, Billy's not sure he'll ever sleep next to him. Try as he might to tune him out, it's dead quiet out here, unsettlingly quiet, and he's all Billy can hear. Some of it is incomprehensible, the syllables only half-formed, and it'd be easier to ignore it if it all was. Unfortunately, some of it's just too clear for comfort.
But I love him, daddy. Over and over again, don't, please don't, don't do it. Billy squeezes his eyes shut, brings his fingers to his ears. He can't do this, not right now, too close for comfort when all he's got right now is time to dwell. He wants to stew in his rage, he wants to hate Gator, but something in him just can't.
Gator rolls over and right into Billy, who tenses as his hand gropes for his waist, bringing his own hands down to rest against his chest, and he can feel his heartbeat race. Don't do it, he's mine. He sounds so broken, pitiful.
He sounds like me.
Just as quickly, Gator thrashes again, sitting up straight and startling Billy in the process, gasping as he jerks away. No way can he pretend to be asleep now, and his eyes look to Gator in the dark. A sliver of moonlight from behind the curtain carves out the profile of his face, the rise and fall of his chest. It'd probably be better to just say nothing at all. ]
[ trauma is a pain that screams for attention. it demands to be felt. it is blood and it is dirt and it is oh, oh-so-surprising. when trauma beckons the mind with a finger, only to snap its neck β things become clear. you never forget, even down to the minute details. the way the spring air rustled through a nearby tree, the way a bird sang, the way a gunshot rang out from the barn. these are the little cuts, what wasn't thought of before the freeze-frame. they come into play when you bleed out, the suffering so great that it fractures, cracks, destroys. there is no way to counter it, no way to heal the wound without cauterization.
as gator pants in the dark, his eyes unable to focus on anything real β he hears billy's voice. hey. i'm here. gator turns, quick, as if he'd forgotten billy was even there. tears stream, his mouth open and twitching with the need to sob. he's no longer deputy tillman, but gator β a little pathetic lizard, one without the great tillman honor. he jerks away from billy, as if he's afraid, then wipes his eyes down quickly with the sleeves of his shirt. this can't be happening. gator finishes drying his face, the rests his head in his hands. his shoulders are shaking, silent sobbing, silent sniffling.
he doesn't want billy to see him like this, so he keeps himself as quiet as possible, hoping that his shivering body doesn't give him away. he wishes that billy loved him, but he also wishes billy despised him. it's a circle of what he thinks he deserves β kicked dog, mean dog, kicked dog, mean dog. he's been under roy's boot for twenty-seven years, ground and ground and ground. he knows that if billy even looks at roy wrong, things could happen, bad things β but his selfishness doesn't bend. he's so much like roy β manipulative, an easy liar, a powerful fist. tough words, tough actions.
but as he cries, he knows he'll never be what roy wants. especially now.
he doesn't speak for a long while, until he raises his head, and it's useless now. billy's going to witness this whether gator likes it or not. his face is swollen, tear-streaked, eyes red. he sniffles, mouth open to breathe in sharply. ]
[ Billy winces at how quickly Gator turns away from him, half-expecting him to round on him. But that's not who he is right now. God, Billy thinks it again: he sounds like me. Covering his mouth to quiet his sobs when he'd hear Neil's footsteps stop at his bedroom door, teaching himself how to be silent in his grief, terrified to be seen, heard.
He's shaking as he buries his face in his hands, and these are far from the bitter tears Billy saw him shed in the bathroom, back in his apartment when he'd told him to leave. This is pain, deep, gnarled and festering, and Billy knows it well. Just not on Gator. It feels like his heart's in a chokehold, that rage pushed down to make way for pity. Love. He wants to reach out to him in a way he's never done with anyone before, rub circles over his back with his palm, under his shirt. Soft, like they'd been in the bathtub, before everything went to hell. Playing pretend. ]
's fine. I was awake.
[ He's not sure that's what Gator meant. Billy swallows at the lump in his throat, feels his own eyes sting a little despite himself. From spoiled brat, throwing a tantrum, to scared little boy. He brings his arm down from his chest, flat on the bed between them, still hesitant to fully reach out to him. ]
[ gator looks down at his hands, the way he's resting them between his legs. he sniffles again, moonlight catching his face change from terrified to angry. he's mad at himself for showing billy that side of him β it's not billy's fault, so gator can't exactly punish him for it. he's silent for a while, another sniffle, another sharp inhale. he steadies himself, a ragged breath exiting his lungs. he brings a palm to his left eye, rubbing it, before allowing his hand to slump again.
d'you wanna come here? gator's first instinct is to blurt no and scowl, but he doesn't. he thinks on it, considering, before he turns to billy in bed. he leans on him, head on his chest. his hair falls against billy's skin, thick and mussed with sleep. he wraps his arm around billy's waist. he stares off, dark eyes misted over with memories, the past β the way he's been hurt beyond hurt.
after another long moment passes, gator feels safe enough to speak. his voice is small, tired. as weak as he feels: ]
[ There are so many things Billy could say. I get it, for one. All that hurt - and never, ever wanting anyone to see it come out. I'm scared of my dad too. But he's not sure Gator would see it the same way. To Gator, they aren't anything alike. Billy's weak, Gator's strong. Billy was raised wrong, and Gator was raised right, and he's going to fix Billy through the pain he inflicts. So he lays still, letting him sniff and sigh and calm himself in peace.
When Gator turns to settle against his chest, Billy breathes in slow, unused to feeling someone's weight against him in such a gentle way. His hand lifts from the sheets to lay against Gator's back, still at first, then slowly circling against his t-shirt. ]
I don't sleep well anywhere. [ He pauses. ] And you were pretty restless.
[ gator curls against billy, head shifting a bit to rest against billy's shoulder. he rubs his back and gator kisses the side of his neck, appreciative. it isn't very often that gator is held β he could probably count on one hand, each time after a devastating blow. it would either be roy's hand or roy's cold nature, but when his mother β gator takes in another breath, this time smelling the bathwater, the soap dried from billy's skin. it's comforting, and gator attaches himself to it. this isn't perfect β far, far from it β but billy's with him right now, especially in a time where he needs it. he can't deny it. ]
You're not gonna sleep tonight?
[ there's almost a worried tone in gator's voice, his fingertips playing with the hem of the sheets across billy's waist. idle, just something to focus on. he pulls at a thread. he doesn't want to think, he just wants to exist, just like this, until things get... bad again. he knows they eventually will, but in this moment, he wants to have something to hold onto. ]
[ Having nightmares is the last thing Billy wants him to actually apologize for tonight, but it's likely the only one he'll get. He's absolutely not brave enough to say so, though, not when he's this tired, when Gator's actually being sweet. Gator had held him a little once before, after Billy'd begged him to take him back despite knowing how terrible an idea it was. But that didn't feel like this does. There's no edge to it, no ulterior motive. His lips are soft against his neck, the arm slung over his waist steadying, somehow. ]
Dunno. It's not like I don't want to. Just can't.
[ Too much on his mind, too quiet out here when Gator's still, too loud when he's dreaming. The ever-present current of fear running through him, always waiting for Gator to snap at him. And yet, having him against him like this, holding him, warm and heavy, it's the most relaxed Billy's felt since he got into Gator's bed. ]
[ he doesn't say anything specifically, but he feels stupid. slow, dumb. crying and carrying on like some girl, it's bad enough that billy had to see it. he feels shame, face turning hot against billy's skin. he buries his face in billy's neck, and he can't help how good it feels. there's no hiding now β billy has seen gator at his absolute sadistic, but as the coin flips β billy is gentle with him. gator expects a backhand, a gut to the boot, so when it doesn't come, he's slightly amazed that billy has restraint. if the tables were turned, gator would have punished such a display of weakness β he kisses billy's neck again. this is what he needs, what he wants, billy just like this, but he knows it won't pan out.
he's leaving tomorrow, going back to his apartment, after gator made a place for them here. he's ungrateful β but gator knows this slip away is only the beginning. he's going to be good β going to wine and dine billy until he's willing. maybe. or not. he doesn't know. he just raises his hand and places it on billy's chest, on his sternum. he lifts his head, looking down at billy with soft, dark eyes. ]
Yeah.
[ or you could stay here forever. his eyes mist, frustration, brows knitted, before he shifts to lay back on billy's shoulder. he doesn't cry, the tears won't exactly come, but he sniffles anyway. a pathetic child. ]
[ Billy takes a deep breath in, lets it out slow. Bein' stupid. Yeah, he'll say. He doubts Gator means it in the same way Billy thinks it, but it really sums up their whole night. Billy feels pretty fucking stupid, himself - he should've just figured his way back out of the fucking woods, slept in his car, and gone home in the morning. But he'd felt horny and lonely and so he ended up here, shivering and scared. Then it got better. Then it got worse, so much worse - and now they're here.
Gator looks so soft like this, fragile. Billy thinks about kissing him, but just looks at him in the dim moonlight, at a loss for words. But then Gator lays down next to him again, sniffling, head against his shoulder. I'm bad. ]
You're --
[ He sighs. What is he even supposed to say to that? You're not bad? Gator had every intention of just kidnapping him and then threw a tantrum when he wasn't appreciative of it. Even if he's being soft and sweet, he'd been soft and sweet earlier, too. Billy doesn't want to just give in and tell him it's okay, but he knows he still needs to tread very carefully. ]
I like what we have. [ Most of the time. ] But this was all so... Sudden. Y'know?
[ i like what we have. gator doesn't like the sound of that, the way the but comes after. it sours him, his fingers trailing billy's sternum. he could very well force billy to be here, he could use the long arm of the tillman law, but he won't. not now. threats would ruin what's happening β the small comfort that gator is receiving. he'd rather stay like this, even though he sniffles again. he feels like maybe billy is trying to tell him he's spoiled, as if he's ignoring everything gator has told him. he's not going to bend, so gator's jaw tenses and he leans up, taking his hand away from billy's chest. he looks down at him, eyes changing from soft to hard, cold.
it's a tillman family trait β working up through the inside like a disease, riddling every organ with fear and pain. they burst forth, taking the lives of anyone they squeeze the right way. he learned it from roy β more things than he'd like to admit, and right now, they're flaring at the back of his mind. he wants to slap billy, wants to tell him that he's the selfish one, the one that's ungrateful. he doesn't, he stares for a moment longer, then sits up. he doesn't want to be near billy right now. he glances forward before his chin lowers again. he's not going to cry, he's going to try to control himself. ]
You like what we have.
[ his voice is stronger now, the timbre low, crawling out of his throat and dissipating with meanness. all of the calm has left gator's body, and now he feels like a weapon. he wants to hurt billy, wants to wring him free of his doubts, make him submit. ]
Sudden doesn't matter.
[ the last word is spat, head turning to look at billy again. frozen, endless dark. like a night in the woods, the trees moving in closer. he looks dangerous, the angles of his face sharp. he's so irritated, tongue darting to the inside of his cheek as he chuckles, shaking his head. it's a bitter sound β the rind of a lemon. ]
[ The change in Gator's face is near imperceptible in the dark, but Billy already knows he's ruined this by the time he pulls away from him, sitting up. Whatever relaxation he'd found in holding him is gone, the softness replaced with the Gator he knows and fears. ]
It matters to me.
[ That was his first mistake, wasn't it? Thinking Gator cared about the way he feels, what he might want or need beyond sex that crushes the loudest of his wishes to hurt. Gator isn't his boyfriend, his partner - he's his judge, jury and executioner. ]
I'm just trying -- [ He takes a short, shuddering breath. Don't fucking cry, he tells himself. It'll just make whatever's coming next worse. ] Trying to explain how I feel. Guess you fooled me too, thinkin' that'd ever matter to you.
[ gator lowers his head, listening. it's just like being berated β gator, you're stupid. gator, you've done the wrong thing again. gator, you're nothing but a useless piece of shit. that's what gator's hearing. roy's voice flitters at the back of his mind β guess you fooled me too. he turns to billy, slow, and it's a dangerous movement, as if he could at any time put his hands around billy's throat and kill him. he won't, he wouldn't, but the urge makes his fingers twitch. ]
I never fooled you β I gave you just what you fuckin' wanted. You told me to leave, you told me to come back. You're the one that's fuckin' confused here.
[ to gator, that's true. pain and sex and love β at least, in his mind. he's hurt billy in ways that will never heal, and while part of him understands that β there's no way to change billy's mind right now. he's angry, frustrated, and that irritates gator even more. billy is supposed to be his, in every way, shape, and form. he isn't ready, and gator knows it. he has to break him more. ]
I'm a winner.
[ the words sound small, but he means every last syllable. his jaw sets, and he stares down at billy with a glint in his eye. oh, he'll feel pain, but now's not the time. gator has to make his moves carefully, he has to pull into the tillman way of doing things. he knows how to handle some stupid bitch β and that's what billy is to him, in this moment. ungrateful, spoiled. he's turning against gator, and he doesn't like that one bit. ]
Winners win. I'm gonna win you, no matter what the fuck I gotta do.
[ Whatever hope Billy had of getting a single hour of sleep tonight is dead and gone. Even if they manage to squash this - which is a goddamn pipe dream - his nerves are on fire, his mind racing with questions he can't answer. ]
Yeah, I'm extremely fucking confused. Confused how wanting you back meant you thought I'd just want to move in with you, sight unseen, no questions asked.
[ Billy pinches the bridge of his nose, his head throbbing with the beginnings of tomorrow's hangover, only exacerbated by the frustration and fear building in him. He wishes he'd just rolled over and pretended to be asleep, but it's far too late for that now.
I'm a winner. Gator's staring down at him, and Billy's entire body is tense, anticipating a slap, a hand around his throat, something. He's sure Gator can tell, and maybe that's why he's holding back. Leaving him in that waiting state, finger on the trigger.
Breaking me isn't the same as winning me. He thinks it, doesn't say it, clenching his jaw as he blinks up at him. ]
[ i'm extremely fucking confused. it's not easy β it's just not, and gator hates that. why can't billy just see? why doesn't he understand? roy doesn't take backtalk, and gator's jaw juts as if he's been slapped. that's what he's used to, so the urge to smack billy around rises in his guts. he'll beat it out of him, break him into pieces and build a stronger foundation for this house. he won't put him in the barn, the red shack β but there are hints of that here that gator doesn't grasp. kidnapping people β why can roy do that, but gator can't? he doesn't think it's fair, pretty fucking unfair, in his opinion β but one day billy will submit. ]
Because I wanted you to be fuckin' safe.
[ it comes out like an insult, though the intentions are anything but. he wanted billy to be happy, to feel safe, under gator's protection. his watchful gaze. his heart. this has crashed and burned, and gator doesn't want to pick up the pieces. he wants billy to get it β but it's clear that neither of them do. gator turns back to billy, looking into his eyes, zeroing in on them in the dark. ]
Can't you just love me?
[ can't you just stay? gator turns and gets out of bed, picking up his vape, and he stands against his desk, taking a long drag and blowing it upward. this is good, something to drag on, something occupying his hands that isn't billy twisted under them. gator stares at billy, almost pouting, but not. his jaw tenses, and a long exhale of smoke exits his nostrils. ]
You're not understandin' me, babygirl. I want you here. You ain't gotta throw a fit, you can just be with me. There ain't a safer place in Stark County. You never have to worry again, I fuckin' promise. Don't you want that? Don't you want me? You keep sayin' you want both β but there ain't both.
[ gator takes in another deep breath, eyes now focused on the end of the bed. his lips form a hard line, brows knitting. he's considering β thinking carefully. he has to win. this is a fruitless argument. he knows that, is well aware, but that doesn't mean he won't fight for what he wants. winner. he has to be. there's no other choice. his eyes flick to billy again, and there's a plan in his mind. ]
But if that's what you fuckin' want, I'll drive you myself.
[ That's another thing Billy doesn't understand. If Gator's so concerned about his safety, why? Where's the danger? Once he got out of Neil's house, nothing really scared Billy much at all -- and then he met Gator. Terrifying from the very start, but like a moth to the flame, Billy just couldn't stay away. Several burns later, he still finds himself transfixed.
Can't you just love me? he asks, staring into his eyes, like it's the easiest thing in the world. Like giving up his freedom to live in Gator's childhood bedroom, to bend at his whims, live under his rules is the sweetest kindness anyone could offer. And that's the thing that scares Billy the most - he really seems to believe that it is. That this is some kind of grand romantic gesture and not the most terrifying thing Billy's ever faced.
Billy watches him get out of bed, get up to take a long hit off of his vape, the sweet scent of it lingering in the air. He rolls onto his side to face him, folding his arms over his chest. ]
I know you want me here. I'm not saying I never would. But I'd need time to think about it. I mean -- god, I'm fuckin' eighteen, I've barely lived with myself. Wouldn't you rather know I was here because I wanted to be?
[ He's pretty sure he already knows the answer to that. ]
[ ...because i wanted to be? gator's nostrils flare for a moment, a bull that's been teased. he then huffs a laugh, near-broken, head tilted up as he grins and bears it for a moment. after that passes, he looks back down at billy, another scoff. his eyes bore into billy's even in the dark. his face changes, no more pathetic, defeatest laughing, no more fucking embarrassment at this whole ordeal. his face is stony, large eyes focused like he sees billy for what he is β a fucking crybaby. he goes on and on about being eighteen, like gator doesn't know. he's almost ten years billy's senior, but his emotional immaturity is stuck. roy's beatings, roy making him grow up too early. now he suffers with it β too old to act one way, too young to act another.
gator licks his lips, then a smile graces his features. big, broad, but none of it reaches the cold darkness, the black holes of his gaze. he drops the vape onto his desk with a dull clunk, then steps back toward the bed, at the edge. there are a thousand thoughts going through his mind β lure, threaten, kill. the tillman way. snaking downward, gator sits across from billy, legs folded underneath him. he's still smiling β sinister, dark. he takes billy's hand, presses it over his heart, and then nods. ]
Feel that? It's my fuckin' pulse. Make sure you learn it. It's your fuckin' clock.
[ he tilts his head, a flinch in his face causing the smile to drop. his eyes narrow, thick lashes hooding his hateful stare. he rubs his thumb against the back of billy's hand, soft β he's still holding him, though, with force. ]
The day it stops is the day you'll be free.
[ and he means it. gator releases billy's hand, flinging it back at him. the sun is now starting to come up, the night's whiplash of emotions about to break into day. the light outside of the window washes gator's face in light blue. he looks back to billy, his eyes still so empty. he doesn't baby him, he doesn't give him another hint of love. standing and moving away from the bed, he begins to change his clothes. ]
[ No answer to his questions. No acknowledgement, even. Billy's not even sure why he's still trying to get through to him, because all it does is make Gator angrier, makes him laugh. Billy's life is just one big fucking joke to him, something to play with, a cat with a half-dead mouse in its paws. Never doing enough to kill it, only toying with it enough to make it suffer and squeak for his delight.
He sits up in bed, cross-legged, just in time for Gator to stride back toward the bed, sitting down across from him, eyes black in the dim light, dead, while his smile stays bright and broad. Billy doesn't try to stop him as he takes him by the hand, presses his palm flat against his chest, over his heart. His pulse is steady, but so much slower than Billy's, which races with every word.
Then his smile fades, and once again Gator is all malice, all cruelty.
The day it stops is the day you'll be free. Billy drops his gaze, unable to hold back the shudder that goes through his entire body. He feels cold again, like he's back in the SUV, shivering while Gator navigates dark country roads. Exhausted, too, eyelids heavy. He doesn't look up again until Gator gets back off the bed, telling him it's time to go.
Crossing the room to the desk, Billy's silent as he gets back into last night's clothes, only feeling more frozen, more numb. He folds up the pajamas Gator had lent him as neatly as he can and piles them where his clothes had been. Once he's fully dressed and in his boots, Billy finally looks toward Gator, hands fidgeting in his jacket pockets. ]
[ gator picks up his cap after dressing β layers upon layers, the cold already infecting the house. his bulletproof vest is on his chest, and his uniform covers him from head to toe. he can't help the flash of anger in his body, and it's enough to keep him warm for now. he glances over at billy as he dresses, gator picking up his gun and checking it. he pulls back the spring, then flicks the safety on before holstering it. there's no real difference between gator having a gun or not β he's just as dangerous, just as full of violence as the weapon itself. his fists, his boots β there are several ways to break a man under all of it β save for billy.
he's not broken enough. calling him, crying, asking him to come over β maybe gator got the wrong idea about it. rutting into him, telling him it'll be okay, and maybe that was a lie. nothing is okay, not now, and gator doesn't think ever. this will have to be slow poison, it'll have to rip billy apart before he knows what's happening. gator has his own plan for when they arrive at billy's apartment, and it's going to be brute fucking force. he's going to get his way, whether billy likes it or fucking not.
brushing past billy to unlock the door and make his way out, gator's silent as he descends the stairs. he doesn't look for billy to follow him, he just goes, no one else in the house awake at this hour. he strides out of the house to the nearest patrol suv, unlocking it with the key fob. the alarm chirps, and gator climbs inside. he turns it on, the heater already full blasting. he pulls out his vape, taking a long drag, then looks out of the window, waiting for billy to get his ass inside the suv. he has no patience, as he hasn't really slept β coffee it'll be today. he knows that it's not going to go well β that's a damn understatement β but gator is ready to stay up for as long as he needs to. ]
[ Billy follows close behind Gator as they leave his room, like if he lingers too long something might jump out of the shadows and drag him back in. Or maybe Gator'll just drive off without him and leave him stranded. The dread of it drives his steps forward, taking quick glances around the house as he passes. It's strangely sterile, too neat and tidy to seem lived in, all while having this rustic, country look to it. It doesn't feel real to him, but these are the Tillmans, after all. Hard men for hard times and all that. To Billy it feels more like the Texas Chainsaw Massacre, if only the Sawyers had housewives.
He breathes in deep when he steps outside, closing the door to the house behind him. Good riddance. Then Billy follows Gator out to the SUV, taking one last look at the house before climbing into the passenger seat. The heat is much appreciated, but doesn't quite seem to warm him. He rubs his hands together before letting them rest on his thighs, warm air blowing over them.
Billy rests his arm against the window once they get going, leaning his head into his palm. It's been a long, long night, and all he can think about is downing a handful of painkillers and crashing in bed for the rest of the day. He finds the steady roll of the SUV along long, straight roads almost hypnotic, enough to find his eyes closing, dozing off for a couple of minutes at a time before snapping up in his seat again. ]
[ gator glances over, watching billy nod off. that's better, as he's about to get a rude fucking awakening when they reach his apartment. gator keeps the suv under the speed limit, knowing that he'll have to take his time. lure, threaten, destroy. it might as well be the tillman family motto. the warmth of the heater gives them some solace in the bitter, snow-thick ground. over country roads is where gator finds himself, jaw clenched. he gazes at billy again before making a turn, blinker clicking and clicking. when the light turns green, gator pulls onto billy's street.
as they drive, gator has thoughts in his head. violence, force, brute strength. he knows he's stronger than billy β that's been proven, the weak one in the passenger seat still dozing. woman. he's gator's, despite not knowing what will come next. gator's boot hits the break as they pull in, the suv climbing over dirt, eating it under its tires. when they arrive at the complex β gator stops, putting the suv in park. it's still on, the heat climbing, but their bodies cold enough to absorb it all. leaning back in his seat, gator takes another drag of the vape, smoke billowing through the suv. he doesn't crack the window, it's far too cold, so he clicks his tongue to get billy's attention β like a dog. ]
Get your ass up. You got shit you gotta do.
[ gator's lips purse, smoke still leaking from the corners. he blows the rest out of his nose, then grabs billy's knee, shaking him. ]
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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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Christ. If Gator's always this restless in his sleep, Billy's not sure he'll ever sleep next to him. Try as he might to tune him out, it's dead quiet out here, unsettlingly quiet, and he's all Billy can hear. Some of it is incomprehensible, the syllables only half-formed, and it'd be easier to ignore it if it all was. Unfortunately, some of it's just too clear for comfort.
But I love him, daddy. Over and over again, don't, please don't, don't do it. Billy squeezes his eyes shut, brings his fingers to his ears. He can't do this, not right now, too close for comfort when all he's got right now is time to dwell. He wants to stew in his rage, he wants to hate Gator, but something in him just can't.
Gator rolls over and right into Billy, who tenses as his hand gropes for his waist, bringing his own hands down to rest against his chest, and he can feel his heartbeat race. Don't do it, he's mine. He sounds so broken, pitiful.
He sounds like me.
Just as quickly, Gator thrashes again, sitting up straight and startling Billy in the process, gasping as he jerks away. No way can he pretend to be asleep now, and his eyes look to Gator in the dark. A sliver of moonlight from behind the curtain carves out the profile of his face, the rise and fall of his chest. It'd probably be better to just say nothing at all. ]
Hey. I'm here.
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as gator pants in the dark, his eyes unable to focus on anything real β he hears billy's voice. hey. i'm here. gator turns, quick, as if he'd forgotten billy was even there. tears stream, his mouth open and twitching with the need to sob. he's no longer deputy tillman, but gator β a little pathetic lizard, one without the great tillman honor. he jerks away from billy, as if he's afraid, then wipes his eyes down quickly with the sleeves of his shirt. this can't be happening. gator finishes drying his face, the rests his head in his hands. his shoulders are shaking, silent sobbing, silent sniffling.
he doesn't want billy to see him like this, so he keeps himself as quiet as possible, hoping that his shivering body doesn't give him away. he wishes that billy loved him, but he also wishes billy despised him. it's a circle of what he thinks he deserves β kicked dog, mean dog, kicked dog, mean dog. he's been under roy's boot for twenty-seven years, ground and ground and ground. he knows that if billy even looks at roy wrong, things could happen, bad things β but his selfishness doesn't bend. he's so much like roy β manipulative, an easy liar, a powerful fist. tough words, tough actions.
but as he cries, he knows he'll never be what roy wants. especially now.
he doesn't speak for a long while, until he raises his head, and it's useless now. billy's going to witness this whether gator likes it or not. his face is swollen, tear-streaked, eyes red. he sniffles, mouth open to breathe in sharply. ]
Sorry.
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He's shaking as he buries his face in his hands, and these are far from the bitter tears Billy saw him shed in the bathroom, back in his apartment when he'd told him to leave. This is pain, deep, gnarled and festering, and Billy knows it well. Just not on Gator. It feels like his heart's in a chokehold, that rage pushed down to make way for pity. Love. He wants to reach out to him in a way he's never done with anyone before, rub circles over his back with his palm, under his shirt. Soft, like they'd been in the bathtub, before everything went to hell. Playing pretend. ]
's fine. I was awake.
[ He's not sure that's what Gator meant. Billy swallows at the lump in his throat, feels his own eyes sting a little despite himself. From spoiled brat, throwing a tantrum, to scared little boy. He brings his arm down from his chest, flat on the bed between them, still hesitant to fully reach out to him. ]
...D'you wanna come here?
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d'you wanna come here? gator's first instinct is to blurt no and scowl, but he doesn't. he thinks on it, considering, before he turns to billy in bed. he leans on him, head on his chest. his hair falls against billy's skin, thick and mussed with sleep. he wraps his arm around billy's waist. he stares off, dark eyes misted over with memories, the past β the way he's been hurt beyond hurt.
after another long moment passes, gator feels safe enough to speak. his voice is small, tired. as weak as he feels: ]
Why weren't you sleepin'?
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When Gator turns to settle against his chest, Billy breathes in slow, unused to feeling someone's weight against him in such a gentle way. His hand lifts from the sheets to lay against Gator's back, still at first, then slowly circling against his t-shirt. ]
I don't sleep well anywhere. [ He pauses. ] And you were pretty restless.
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[ gator curls against billy, head shifting a bit to rest against billy's shoulder. he rubs his back and gator kisses the side of his neck, appreciative. it isn't very often that gator is held β he could probably count on one hand, each time after a devastating blow. it would either be roy's hand or roy's cold nature, but when his mother β gator takes in another breath, this time smelling the bathwater, the soap dried from billy's skin. it's comforting, and gator attaches himself to it. this isn't perfect β far, far from it β but billy's with him right now, especially in a time where he needs it. he can't deny it. ]
You're not gonna sleep tonight?
[ there's almost a worried tone in gator's voice, his fingertips playing with the hem of the sheets across billy's waist. idle, just something to focus on. he pulls at a thread. he doesn't want to think, he just wants to exist, just like this, until things get... bad again. he knows they eventually will, but in this moment, he wants to have something to hold onto. ]
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[ Having nightmares is the last thing Billy wants him to actually apologize for tonight, but it's likely the only one he'll get. He's absolutely not brave enough to say so, though, not when he's this tired, when Gator's actually being sweet. Gator had held him a little once before, after Billy'd begged him to take him back despite knowing how terrible an idea it was. But that didn't feel like this does. There's no edge to it, no ulterior motive. His lips are soft against his neck, the arm slung over his waist steadying, somehow. ]
Dunno. It's not like I don't want to. Just can't.
[ Too much on his mind, too quiet out here when Gator's still, too loud when he's dreaming. The ever-present current of fear running through him, always waiting for Gator to snap at him. And yet, having him against him like this, holding him, warm and heavy, it's the most relaxed Billy's felt since he got into Gator's bed. ]
Can we stay like this?
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[ he doesn't say anything specifically, but he feels stupid. slow, dumb. crying and carrying on like some girl, it's bad enough that billy had to see it. he feels shame, face turning hot against billy's skin. he buries his face in billy's neck, and he can't help how good it feels. there's no hiding now β billy has seen gator at his absolute sadistic, but as the coin flips β billy is gentle with him. gator expects a backhand, a gut to the boot, so when it doesn't come, he's slightly amazed that billy has restraint. if the tables were turned, gator would have punished such a display of weakness β he kisses billy's neck again. this is what he needs, what he wants, billy just like this, but he knows it won't pan out.
he's leaving tomorrow, going back to his apartment, after gator made a place for them here. he's ungrateful β but gator knows this slip away is only the beginning. he's going to be good β going to wine and dine billy until he's willing. maybe. or not. he doesn't know. he just raises his hand and places it on billy's chest, on his sternum. he lifts his head, looking down at billy with soft, dark eyes. ]
Yeah.
[ or you could stay here forever. his eyes mist, frustration, brows knitted, before he shifts to lay back on billy's shoulder. he doesn't cry, the tears won't exactly come, but he sniffles anyway. a pathetic child. ]
I'm bad.
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Gator looks so soft like this, fragile. Billy thinks about kissing him, but just looks at him in the dim moonlight, at a loss for words. But then Gator lays down next to him again, sniffling, head against his shoulder. I'm bad. ]
You're --
[ He sighs. What is he even supposed to say to that? You're not bad? Gator had every intention of just kidnapping him and then threw a tantrum when he wasn't appreciative of it. Even if he's being soft and sweet, he'd been soft and sweet earlier, too. Billy doesn't want to just give in and tell him it's okay, but he knows he still needs to tread very carefully. ]
I like what we have. [ Most of the time. ] But this was all so... Sudden. Y'know?
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it's a tillman family trait β working up through the inside like a disease, riddling every organ with fear and pain. they burst forth, taking the lives of anyone they squeeze the right way. he learned it from roy β more things than he'd like to admit, and right now, they're flaring at the back of his mind. he wants to slap billy, wants to tell him that he's the selfish one, the one that's ungrateful. he doesn't, he stares for a moment longer, then sits up. he doesn't want to be near billy right now. he glances forward before his chin lowers again. he's not going to cry, he's going to try to control himself. ]
You like what we have.
[ his voice is stronger now, the timbre low, crawling out of his throat and dissipating with meanness. all of the calm has left gator's body, and now he feels like a weapon. he wants to hurt billy, wants to wring him free of his doubts, make him submit. ]
Sudden doesn't matter.
[ the last word is spat, head turning to look at billy again. frozen, endless dark. like a night in the woods, the trees moving in closer. he looks dangerous, the angles of his face sharp. he's so irritated, tongue darting to the inside of his cheek as he chuckles, shaking his head. it's a bitter sound β the rind of a lemon. ]
You fuckin' fooled me.
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It matters to me.
[ That was his first mistake, wasn't it? Thinking Gator cared about the way he feels, what he might want or need beyond sex that crushes the loudest of his wishes to hurt. Gator isn't his boyfriend, his partner - he's his judge, jury and executioner. ]
I'm just trying -- [ He takes a short, shuddering breath. Don't fucking cry, he tells himself. It'll just make whatever's coming next worse. ] Trying to explain how I feel. Guess you fooled me too, thinkin' that'd ever matter to you.
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I never fooled you β I gave you just what you fuckin' wanted. You told me to leave, you told me to come back. You're the one that's fuckin' confused here.
[ to gator, that's true. pain and sex and love β at least, in his mind. he's hurt billy in ways that will never heal, and while part of him understands that β there's no way to change billy's mind right now. he's angry, frustrated, and that irritates gator even more. billy is supposed to be his, in every way, shape, and form. he isn't ready, and gator knows it. he has to break him more. ]
I'm a winner.
[ the words sound small, but he means every last syllable. his jaw sets, and he stares down at billy with a glint in his eye. oh, he'll feel pain, but now's not the time. gator has to make his moves carefully, he has to pull into the tillman way of doing things. he knows how to handle some stupid bitch β and that's what billy is to him, in this moment. ungrateful, spoiled. he's turning against gator, and he doesn't like that one bit. ]
Winners win. I'm gonna win you, no matter what the fuck I gotta do.
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Yeah, I'm extremely fucking confused. Confused how wanting you back meant you thought I'd just want to move in with you, sight unseen, no questions asked.
[ Billy pinches the bridge of his nose, his head throbbing with the beginnings of tomorrow's hangover, only exacerbated by the frustration and fear building in him. He wishes he'd just rolled over and pretended to be asleep, but it's far too late for that now.
I'm a winner. Gator's staring down at him, and Billy's entire body is tense, anticipating a slap, a hand around his throat, something. He's sure Gator can tell, and maybe that's why he's holding back. Leaving him in that waiting state, finger on the trigger.
Breaking me isn't the same as winning me. He thinks it, doesn't say it, clenching his jaw as he blinks up at him. ]
You can start by tryin' to understand me.
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Because I wanted you to be fuckin' safe.
[ it comes out like an insult, though the intentions are anything but. he wanted billy to be happy, to feel safe, under gator's protection. his watchful gaze. his heart. this has crashed and burned, and gator doesn't want to pick up the pieces. he wants billy to get it β but it's clear that neither of them do. gator turns back to billy, looking into his eyes, zeroing in on them in the dark. ]
Can't you just love me?
[ can't you just stay? gator turns and gets out of bed, picking up his vape, and he stands against his desk, taking a long drag and blowing it upward. this is good, something to drag on, something occupying his hands that isn't billy twisted under them. gator stares at billy, almost pouting, but not. his jaw tenses, and a long exhale of smoke exits his nostrils. ]
You're not understandin' me, babygirl. I want you here. You ain't gotta throw a fit, you can just be with me. There ain't a safer place in Stark County. You never have to worry again, I fuckin' promise. Don't you want that? Don't you want me? You keep sayin' you want both β but there ain't both.
[ gator takes in another deep breath, eyes now focused on the end of the bed. his lips form a hard line, brows knitting. he's considering β thinking carefully. he has to win. this is a fruitless argument. he knows that, is well aware, but that doesn't mean he won't fight for what he wants. winner. he has to be. there's no other choice. his eyes flick to billy again, and there's a plan in his mind. ]
But if that's what you fuckin' want, I'll drive you myself.
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[ That's another thing Billy doesn't understand. If Gator's so concerned about his safety, why? Where's the danger? Once he got out of Neil's house, nothing really scared Billy much at all -- and then he met Gator. Terrifying from the very start, but like a moth to the flame, Billy just couldn't stay away. Several burns later, he still finds himself transfixed.
Can't you just love me? he asks, staring into his eyes, like it's the easiest thing in the world. Like giving up his freedom to live in Gator's childhood bedroom, to bend at his whims, live under his rules is the sweetest kindness anyone could offer. And that's the thing that scares Billy the most - he really seems to believe that it is. That this is some kind of grand romantic gesture and not the most terrifying thing Billy's ever faced.
Billy watches him get out of bed, get up to take a long hit off of his vape, the sweet scent of it lingering in the air. He rolls onto his side to face him, folding his arms over his chest. ]
I know you want me here. I'm not saying I never would. But I'd need time to think about it. I mean -- god, I'm fuckin' eighteen, I've barely lived with myself. Wouldn't you rather know I was here because I wanted to be?
[ He's pretty sure he already knows the answer to that. ]
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gator licks his lips, then a smile graces his features. big, broad, but none of it reaches the cold darkness, the black holes of his gaze. he drops the vape onto his desk with a dull clunk, then steps back toward the bed, at the edge. there are a thousand thoughts going through his mind β lure, threaten, kill. the tillman way. snaking downward, gator sits across from billy, legs folded underneath him. he's still smiling β sinister, dark. he takes billy's hand, presses it over his heart, and then nods. ]
Feel that? It's my fuckin' pulse. Make sure you learn it. It's your fuckin' clock.
[ he tilts his head, a flinch in his face causing the smile to drop. his eyes narrow, thick lashes hooding his hateful stare. he rubs his thumb against the back of billy's hand, soft β he's still holding him, though, with force. ]
The day it stops is the day you'll be free.
[ and he means it. gator releases billy's hand, flinging it back at him. the sun is now starting to come up, the night's whiplash of emotions about to break into day. the light outside of the window washes gator's face in light blue. he looks back to billy, his eyes still so empty. he doesn't baby him, he doesn't give him another hint of love. standing and moving away from the bed, he begins to change his clothes. ]
Let's bring your ass back to your shithole.
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He sits up in bed, cross-legged, just in time for Gator to stride back toward the bed, sitting down across from him, eyes black in the dim light, dead, while his smile stays bright and broad. Billy doesn't try to stop him as he takes him by the hand, presses his palm flat against his chest, over his heart. His pulse is steady, but so much slower than Billy's, which races with every word.
Then his smile fades, and once again Gator is all malice, all cruelty.
The day it stops is the day you'll be free. Billy drops his gaze, unable to hold back the shudder that goes through his entire body. He feels cold again, like he's back in the SUV, shivering while Gator navigates dark country roads. Exhausted, too, eyelids heavy. He doesn't look up again until Gator gets back off the bed, telling him it's time to go.
Crossing the room to the desk, Billy's silent as he gets back into last night's clothes, only feeling more frozen, more numb. He folds up the pajamas Gator had lent him as neatly as he can and piles them where his clothes had been. Once he's fully dressed and in his boots, Billy finally looks toward Gator, hands fidgeting in his jacket pockets. ]
Okay. Let's go.
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he's not broken enough. calling him, crying, asking him to come over β maybe gator got the wrong idea about it. rutting into him, telling him it'll be okay, and maybe that was a lie. nothing is okay, not now, and gator doesn't think ever. this will have to be slow poison, it'll have to rip billy apart before he knows what's happening. gator has his own plan for when they arrive at billy's apartment, and it's going to be brute fucking force. he's going to get his way, whether billy likes it or fucking not.
brushing past billy to unlock the door and make his way out, gator's silent as he descends the stairs. he doesn't look for billy to follow him, he just goes, no one else in the house awake at this hour. he strides out of the house to the nearest patrol suv, unlocking it with the key fob. the alarm chirps, and gator climbs inside. he turns it on, the heater already full blasting. he pulls out his vape, taking a long drag, then looks out of the window, waiting for billy to get his ass inside the suv. he has no patience, as he hasn't really slept β coffee it'll be today. he knows that it's not going to go well β that's a damn understatement β but gator is ready to stay up for as long as he needs to. ]
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He breathes in deep when he steps outside, closing the door to the house behind him. Good riddance. Then Billy follows Gator out to the SUV, taking one last look at the house before climbing into the passenger seat. The heat is much appreciated, but doesn't quite seem to warm him. He rubs his hands together before letting them rest on his thighs, warm air blowing over them.
Billy rests his arm against the window once they get going, leaning his head into his palm. It's been a long, long night, and all he can think about is downing a handful of painkillers and crashing in bed for the rest of the day. He finds the steady roll of the SUV along long, straight roads almost hypnotic, enough to find his eyes closing, dozing off for a couple of minutes at a time before snapping up in his seat again. ]
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as they drive, gator has thoughts in his head. violence, force, brute strength. he knows he's stronger than billy β that's been proven, the weak one in the passenger seat still dozing. woman. he's gator's, despite not knowing what will come next. gator's boot hits the break as they pull in, the suv climbing over dirt, eating it under its tires. when they arrive at the complex β gator stops, putting the suv in park. it's still on, the heat climbing, but their bodies cold enough to absorb it all. leaning back in his seat, gator takes another drag of the vape, smoke billowing through the suv. he doesn't crack the window, it's far too cold, so he clicks his tongue to get billy's attention β like a dog. ]
Get your ass up. You got shit you gotta do.
[ gator's lips purse, smoke still leaking from the corners. he blows the rest out of his nose, then grabs billy's knee, shaking him. ]
I said get the fuck up.
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