Chapter Text
Black.
That’s how it usually was when Billy closed his eyes, pretending to sleep.
He thought, that if he couldn’t sleep and let his subconscious take over, then maybe he could pretend to let his guard down. And maybe then, it could sneak up on him.
So, for nights, for as long as he could remember, Billy pretended. All his life he had, and now wasn’t so different. But every now and then, he got lucky and lost all feeling of his withered body, and fell asleep.
While unconscious, he forgot how much his skin hurt; the bones underneath creaking from the weightlessness of being under granted. Forgot how the healed scars were brutally torn open before. The feel of cigarette butts etched into skin from his childhood that still held that same burning intensity from its ignition, finally extinguished.
Billy liked to sleep, cause when he does fall, he was elevated from all his suffering. And maybe, just maybe when he’s been good, he got to dream.
But that hadn’t happened in so long.
Billy had only met with pure black for years. Not once seeing anything.
It was scary at first. He thought he’d been blinded and bound, not able to scream or cry aloud. Not able to move nor thrash around. But after the first few times of trying, Billy learnt and truly understood he was ok. For the first time in a long time.
But now, something was happening. Something new.
The black wasn’t all a void as it usually was.
The best way he could describe it was looking through a blindfold. You know what you’re seeing is pitch black, but you could still see through. The light filtering in as static. And it wasn’t as dark as it was before.
The darkest of the black wasn’t it’s deepest shade anymore. And Billy realized he was dreaming.
Like curtains unveiling a play to behold, Billy lifted his gaze from the wooden floorboards. Staring up ahead at the spotlight that wasn’t there. He tilted his head, staring out through the fabricated window and out into the black open air.
Whatever place he was in now was unfinished. Beams of wood propped up, holding up thin walls that seemed to float, unattached to no actual support. Blank frames that held no pictures floated along in place in still air. It as if he was in the middle of the skeleton of a home before it could be called as such.
Empty.
Billy could only continue to stare through the glass frame, unbothered by the scenery around him. No care if he would fall through the unfinished boards, down into the abyss. There was nothing left for him.
“Billy?”
The man jumped at the mention of his name. As he turned around, he was somewhere else now. Someplace new.
No. No he wasn’t. Billy was still where he was before, but now… It had come to life.
Painted in a warm yellow glow, the room he was in was now finished and furnished, resembling like that of a kitchen. The window that he peered out from now looked out towards the open forest surrounded by a frozen lake up ahead, the snow outside falling beneath the moonlight. Inside was warm and inviting, the smell of cinnamon and fresh pine fragrant in the air.
Billy looked around, realizing that he was here all along.
Inside the cabin.
With reassurance he was somewhere familiar, Billy slowly dropped his tensed shoulders.
“Billy?”
The call of his name could be heard again from the living room, a familiar voice. And Billy followed.
Exiting out the kitchen and down the hallway, Billy could hear the soft mellow hymns of a song. Drawn even closer, Billy knew to be cautious of what was soon to play out.
Knowing his own mind and its thoughts, this could only lead to something bad. They always have, his dreams. But it was better than having to sit in the dark for an unforgiving amount of time, not knowing if you’d ever wake up.
As Billy drew closer to the entryway of the living room, the voice that called out to him was now singing along with the melodic tune. And Billy got to see who it belongs to finally.
There you were, your back facing towards him, standing beside the record player. Fiddling with the needle and tempo, you gently swayed your body and head from side to side along with the music.
Billy only took one quiet step inside, but it was the only thing he needed to do to draw your attention, your body turning towards him.
You were different. The bags under your eyes were gone, your hair kept and brushed. The clothes you were wearing were fancy. Well, what Billy would consider fancy. They were the nice clothes you’d wear for a special event, none that Billy ever saw you wear around him.
He felt a familiar twinge in his heart that he couldn’t quite understood why he felt whenever he looked at you. But all he knew was that you looked stunning, amazing in all your beauty. Happy.
You looked so happy, and you were even smiling up at him. At him.
“Billy,” you called out to him. And Billy shuddered, sharply breathing in at the mention of his name slipping from your lips like sweet honey. “What’re you doing over there?”
Billy tilted his head, confused at the question.
“Come join me!” You held out your hand, teasing. And Billy happily took your hand in his.
You twirled yourself closer to him, and Billy could’ve sworn his brain short-circuited for a moment. Within an instant, you were pulled right into his chest, nestling right beside him. Your hand was placed ever so precariously over his beating heart, and Billy was sure you could feel it. Your soft breath brushed against Billy’s flushed cheek, and Billy couldn’t help but look down at your lips.
Your laughter rang through Billy’s ears, your smile brightening even more than it was, and you twirled away. Your hand still laid in the palm of Billy’s, your fingers interlocked. He didn’t want to let go. Not so soon.
The two of you danced in a circle, not even following the rhythm of the song that was now forgotten. The both of you just followed what felt right in the moment, and Billy couldn’t be any more carefree than now.
Billy followed your movements; how careless they were yet how fluid you moved. Billy could’ve stepped off to the side and watched you danced, yourself none the wiser you’d be without a partner. But Billy had no intention of leaving. He wanted all of this, and more.
He couldn’t tell if you were drunk, the only logical explanation for you to be acting this way. Not that he was complaining of course, Billy was loving every last second. Even then, Billy hadn’t smelled the sweet aroma of alcohol off you.
Your eyes glanced up at his, so lively and alluring, and Billy knew what you were planning to do. Your hand tightening around his, you twirled closer once more to Billy, and he caught you. Billy laid his arms around your middle, holding you in place.
You couldn’t help but laugh, sliding your arms up and around Billy’s neck, your fingertips curling around the ends of his hair.
“I guess you caught me!”
He did, but Billy was too distracted to mention it. Your warmth emanated through his sweater; your body closer to his than it ever was before. The way you felt so perfect against him, almost as if you were meant to be beside him.
The two of you slowed down, settling to gently swaying from side to side, now following along the slow tune. He wasn’t as good as you, sometimes stumbling over your shoes. He tried to watch his steps, but your soft chuckling always got his attention, causing him to stumble even more.
Billy could still feel you play away with his hair, leaving goosebumps down his neck and shoulders in your wake. He couldn’t help but lean down, closing his eyes and breathing in your scent, his nose brushing against the crown of your forehead.
You giggled at the feel of his warm breath tickling you, stopping your ministrations to pull away, but Billy’s hold on you tightened. He didn’t want you to go. Please, no, not yet.
“Billy, please-“ You cried out, but you were still laughing. “It tickles!”
Billy leaned back, giving you the space you pleaded for. But you pulled yourself closer to him; following his movements as you laid your head down on his chest, wrapping your arms tighter around him. Billy could only stare down at you, swallowing hard at the intimate gesture. He didn’t even notice the two of you stopped dancing.
“Billy?”
He didn’t say anything. He hasn’t this whole time. He was afraid to, afraid that he’d say something that would’ve ruined the mood. He would’ve ruined this moment he had with you.
You turned your head, nestling into the crook of his neck. One of your hands glided down from around his neck, your thumb swiping along his jawline. Your eyes followed the bobbing of Billy’s Adams apple, noticing his nervousness.
Clearing his throat, Billy spoke up.
“Yes?”
“Do you regret ever meeting me?”
Billy didn’t understand. He thought over your words carefully yet was still confused. You were the whole reason for all of this. Everything he has done, it was all for you. With nothing else to respond, Billy asked his own question.
“Do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Do you…” Billy looked down at your eyes. “Do you regret meeting Billy?”
Billy could see you think over your answer, seeing your eyes glance downward as your mind drifted off. The hand that played with the ends of Billy’s hair was now curled around the neck of his green sweater, the other cupping his cheek. You were now standing on the tips of your feet, leaning desperately closer to Billy’s face.
Billy’s breathing stopped altogether, along with any thought process. Your soft, chapped lips were mere inches away from his, and he didn’t know how to react. Should he lean down? Should he wait?
The hand that held his green sweater was now gripping it, pulling it down along with Billy forcefully. Your other hand that gently cupped his cheek now held it vehemently, pushing it off to the side. Your lips brushed along the side of his jaw, stopping right before his ear to whisper in.
“I should’ve killed you the moment I had the chance.”
Seconds passed as the words were processed, and Billy tried to lean away from you. He needed to see your expression, to see if you truly meant what you said. But your hold on him didn’t let up, getting more and more aggressive as you continued on.
“I wish you killed me along with the others.”
Forcibly pushing his face away, Billy was granted space, nearly falling over himself just a foot away. There, he met with your glower, malice in your eye. The grip you had on him left his cheek sore, even leaving red-crescent shaped marks from your nails. But Billy was too numb to feel the pain pulsating where his chest felt empty, his heart dropped nearly at the bottom.
No, no you didn’t mean that. Please, you don’t.
Billy forced his hand up, trying to gently coax you into calming down.
“Please-“
“I hate you.”
Billy visibly flinched at your words.
“Stop-“
“I hate you, Billy! I hate you so much that I want to die. You’re a disgusting, vile bastard-“
You just kept going, screaming at Billy, and he wanted you to stop. Why were you acting like this all of a sudden? What happened? What did Billy do? Please, let him fix it. He didn’t mean to.
Billy took one step forward, hands outstretched submissively, trying to settle you down. In your anger, you swung, the back of your hand coming hard across his cheek, knocking Billy off his feet. Billy fell to the floor, holding the right side of his face, trying not to cry from the impact.
“- You FILTHY BILLY.”
Those uttered words spat out rang through Billy, shaking him to his core. Billy refused to look up from the floorboards, but even then, he didn’t have to to know you weren’t there anymore.
It wasn’t your voice, no it was hardly recognizable as yours. This voice was deep, grating, and thick with phlegm. Billy could smell the breath of nicotine waft from above him. His skin was burning.
“FILTHY BILLY. DISGUSTING. VILE. BASTARD.”
With each word thrown at Billy, he curled tighter into himself, wanting to get away. But his body held him still against his will, feebly crying as he was berated, fearing what else was to come next.
He wished you were here.
Why did you leave him?
Please, come back.
Billy swatted the side of his head, nearly clanging his head against the toilet bowl seat.
He needed to stop remembering. The dream. The nice parts of it.
He didn’t deserve such thoughts, Filthy Billy.
Only deserved the worst parts to be reminded of what he’d done.
The twist of his empty stomach nearly made him lurch for the third time this morning, Billy’s restrain wearing thin. He hadn’t eaten for a while, if not a small snack he had the previous day, his only meal.
Not as much as the many days you’ve been held in that room for without anything.
Billy felt the back of his throat open up, emptying out nothing once more.
The withered man laid hunched over, settling his worn-out body over the bowl. He didn’t care how his bones groaned against the cold, tiled bathroom floor. How the bright lights burned into his retinas, or how the stench of stomach acid reeked from below.
It had been two days since the accident.
Billy’s little ‘mishap’.
He hadn’t seen nor heard anything of you since then, the cabin basked in complete quiet. The same once lively cabin filled with laughter and music the previous night before was now empty and ominous, with no living soul inside.
A skeleton of a home.
Billy wasn’t even sure if you were breathing; didn’t dare to step into that room. He was apprehensive, beyond terrified of what laid beyond that door. He didn’t want to come across your lifeless body, broken and mutilated by him.
Naughty Billy.
Wiping away the dribble of saliva off the sleeve of his sweater, his green one, Billy sluggishly got up from the floor and flushed away his mess. Rinsing out his mouth and spitting down the bathroom sink, Billy didn’t bother to look at himself in the mirror.
He already knew there was no point to meet the eyes of who looked back at him.
Billy made his way out, looking down the corridor where the bedroom laid of where you held in. If you were alive, that is.
Cracking his knuckles of one hand one by one, Billy quietly made his way down to the bedroom door, stopping at an arm’s length away in front. The silence permeated through the wood, and although Billy tried to strain his ears, there was nothing that could be heard.
As he always had done for the past few days, Billy knocked on the door twice, waiting for a response.
Nothing.
“Hello?” Billy called out, softly yet loud enough for you to have heard, once again placing his ear directly on the door. “Please answer me."
Yet to no avail, nothing.
But still, Billy waited with bated breath, standing still for what seemed like hours. Looking down at the doorknob, Billy eyed the brass metal, fighting down the urge to flee. He had to make sure you were ok. He promised.
For the first time, Billy twisted the handle and opened the door, the only sound escaping being the metal hinges creaking.
Of what light that could infiltrate through the drawn red curtains basked the room in a pink haze, a stark difference to what shadowed the rest of the cabin in cool colors. Billy kept his eyes trained on the floor, trying to look through the peripheral of his vision. He didn’t want to see any more of your battered body. But when he didn’t spot your figure on the floor as it was left laying before, Billy whipped his head up in distress, fearing you’d left him after all while he hid.
Yet there you were, laying on the small bed that nestled into the nook of the bedroom, your back facing towards him as you curled up close to the wall. The bedsheets were nearly hanging off the bed and spilling out onto the wooden floorboards, where you had dragged yourself up and clambered onto the mattress.
You hadn’t reacted to him calling out to you, nor when he had opened the door.
With a deep breath, all sense of urgency to run ignored, Billy took a small step inside. All noise seemed to have increased tenfold within these walls, Billy hearing every miniscule sound. The wind blowing over the wooded cabin, the hum of the heater running, even Billy’s own heartbeat in his ears.
But not you. Nothing from you.
Billy silently made his way at the end of your bed, kneeling down beside it. You hadn’t budged, haven’t even made a noise since his barging in. You continued to lay still, not roused by his presence.
From the foot of the bedframe, Billy watched your form intensely. Tried to see the rise and fall of your chest, any sign of your breathing. And when he noticed the very faint movement of your eyelashes fluttering, Billy let out the breath he hadn’t noticed he was holding.
You were alive.
Far from ok, but you were still here with him.
Billy checked you over, his gaze looking down to the major injury you endured. One leg stretched out completely over the edge of the bed, your ankle still swollen, the red mark darkened to a deep purple now. Wincing at the sight, Billy tore his eyes away and made sure to note anything else he’s missed from what he could see.
The clothes you wore were wrinkled, nearly swallowing your form. You looked so small, so weak. Two days was a lot to go without any sustenance, and you had to bear through that alone.
Billy felt his stomach turn at the thought.
Getting up so swiftly and light, Billy left the room in quick haste. When he came back, you remained where you were, ever so still. In one hand, Billy held a plate of a singular piece of plain toast, something quick to make yet enough for an empty stomach. In the other, a glass full of water, nearly spilling over the rim.
Placing it down beside the nightstand that stood against the wall, Billy settled back down at the foot of the bed, kneeling once more.
“Please, eat.” Billy croaked out, his throat dry and grating from the acid that burned still.
You laid still, ignoring his plea.
Whether you were conscious or not, Billy just wished you’d move or do something. He couldn’t stand to watch you in this state. But he did this to you, and he had to pay for his actions.
Billy was good. He could be good again.
Without another word, Billy got up and excused himself, leaving you behind once more. With one last look at your decrepit form, Billy closed the door gently.
He left you alone for a bit, giving you more time for yourself now that he knew you were alive.
Meanwhile, Billy cleaned himself up a bit, rinsing himself off for a quick moment under the freezing shower head. The muscles of his back cried at the intensity of the shudder that racked through Billy, the soreness from past excursions remaining along with a few scattered discolored bruising.
The tips of his fingers were red, shaking as the water continued to run over him. His skin burned still.
Turning off the water, he watched the tiny droplets splatter onto the tiled floor beneath him while he dried his hair. Once done, he grabbed for his worn-out sweater, smelling the sweet smell of you that lingered before it could be replaced with his own.
Your sweater, the one you had lent him, was left folded on your bed of the master bedroom, alongside with the candy bar you’d gifted him. He didn’t deserve neither of those, wouldn’t grant himself them their luxury.
Pulling the article of clothing over his head and shrugging on a pair of faded sweatpants he’d rummaged through one of the master bedroom drawers earlier, Billy padded his way out and into the hallway. Looking back to the bedroom where you resided, Billy contemplated seeing you. It had reached noon, an hour since he last checked on you.
Deciding to pay you another visit, Billy made his way towards you. Making sure to knock twice, Billy called out to you. And again, was met with silence.
Billy entered through but not before peeking inside to you see through the crack. He knew you’d be there, of course, but a part of him feared you had hobbled down and crawled away.
You wouldn’t have gone very far, Billy thought.
Kneeling down at his usual spot at the foot of the bed, Billy surveyed your position once more. You seemed to have not budged, and when Billy looked over to the side of the nightstand, none of the offerings he laid out for you was touched.
Laying his hands onto the fallen bedsheet that laid precariously over the edge, Billy gripped the fabric tight in his hands.
“I know you’re awake.” Billy’s eyes bored into the back of your head; his voice strained.
Billy has been trying. Trying to help you. And you’ve been ignoring him. He wants to be good; he’s trying to be good.
“Please, just eat. P-please.” Tears began to well up in Billy’s eyes and he couldn’t understand what for. He was exhausted from the guilt he carried from hurting you, beginning to become angry with you for continuing to give him the cold shoulder these past few days. Billy was a patient man, but there was only so much he could hold back.
Can’t you see he was trying?
You continued to lay still, unbothered to care. And something about that pissed Billy off. He wanted to grab you by the shoulders, yank you up by your hair, do something to get your attention. To get you to finally look at him.
Can’t you see he’s showing you mercy?
He could just kill you. Start over and get it all done with, like he should have in the beginning. Then he wouldn’t have to deal with all of this hassle and emotional baggage.
Billy swallowed hard at the thought, his fingers twitching before him and the whites of his knuckles turning paler from the hold of his clenched fists.
It was quite tempting. He wouldn’t have to deal with any of this anymore. The guilt will be gone, all in the past. He would be rid of you, and you’d be with the others. That’s what you wanted, right?
But Billy knew better. That would be a waste of time, wouldn’t it? Billy had wanted this, and he’d promised. Promised he’d take care of what was his.
Billy understood that you had every right to be angry with him. He’d taken you, isolated you all to himself. He’d hurt you time and time again. And you’ve only defended yourself, hurting him and fighting back, something he’s forgiven you for again and again. And even after all of that, you went as far as helping him when you didn’t need to.
Why?
Why after all that he’s done, why did Billy think he still deserved to have you?
You must really hate him.
Billy was a handful, even in his youth. His parents constantly reminded him of that. Left him scars of his own to remember the fact. Everybody he’s ever came into contact with, all of them despised him. He could see the disdain in their eyes.
Why wouldn’t you?
The thought alone really bothered him, his chest compressing in on itself, knowing that the one person he only wanted to be around, only wanted to be away from someone like him.
Billy couldn’t help but think what you said to him, in his dream, was true.
Burying his face into his hands, Billy pressed the palms of his hands deep into his sockets. He tried to breath in and out, but the pressure around his heart was just too much, almost painfully so.
“I-I’m sorry. Please, Billy’s sorry.”
He was surprised to have uttered those words, not expecting them to slip from his lips. But he meant it. He was sorry for everything he put you through. The pain, the suffering, the isolation. He knew how that was like, and to have put you through that must have been excruciating. All alone.
And even though Billy clamped his eyes shut, the tears still continued to fall, cascading down his hand and arm until they dripped down to the blanket below.
“I don’t think I can control myself, but I want to s-stop, please I-“ He was begging, whether to you or himself or something else, he didn’t know. “Billy wants to be good.”
The burning smolder of exasperation wisped out to dejection. Billy didn’t want to lose you. No, not at all. He just wanted to be rid of the horrible, disgusting feelings, his guilt of hurting the one thing he grew to care about.
Billy cared about you.
The sudden realization of how much you meant to Billy dawned on him as he cried by your side. Despite having considered killing you a few times, even going as far as spraining your ankle, Billy knew he wouldn’t have gone through with it in the end. Even when he wasn’t in the right mindset, it was the final draw for Billy.
He never really wanted to hurt you.
He only wanted to have you here with him.
How many times did Billy have to remind himself of that?
Billy had finished the remaining moments of his weeping, sitting upright from his slumped posture as he wiped away his cheeks. It was with clear, bloodshot eyes did he notice you staring down at him, your body twisted from its curled position on the bed.
You were awake, and you had been watching him for God knows how long, with eyes still vivid and wet with emotion. You looked much worse than Billy had thought, your face worse for wear with one swollen tear-stained cheek. A thin layer of dried blood still remained, crusted over your bottom lip. Your eyes seemed sunken in with how dark the bags under your eyes were, your hair knotted and veiling most of your features. You looked sick.
Billy had pleaded for you to say something this whole time, and now that he was staring right at you as you were at him, he didn’t know what to say.
“Do you mean it?” You asked gravely, the sound of your voice raspy and hoarse from its lack of use.
Billy couldn’t find his voice anymore, lost in a trance under your gaze. He simply nodded, swallowing thickly.
“Say it.” You growled, the lip of your mouth curling downward as you leaned closer to the man.
“Billy’s sorry- I’m sorry,” He nearly shrunk from the intensity you stared him down with. “I mean it. I r-really do. I didn’t want to hurt you, I never did. Billy didn’t want for any of this to happen.”
“Yeah?” You scoffed. “Well, it still did.”
Billy broke the strict eye contact away from you, looking down at his clenched fists that still laid before him.
“It still did.”
It’s what you had said to him that faithful night.
“How will I know you won’t do this again, Billy?” You sat up straighter, staring pointedly at him, but Billy refused to meet your gaze, shameful from before and now.
“Look at me.” You leaned in even closer, forcing Billy to look up to you. The smell of sweat and iron wafted into Billy’s senses, and he couldn’t help but stare at the deep red ring of bruises wrapped around your neck above your clavicle, right before looking into your eyes.
“Billy will be good, I will. For you.”
You held the same harsh stare as before, starting to back away to your original slumped posture.
“I can’t trust you, Billy.”
He knows that. He doesn’t himself. Still hurt to hear you say that.
“This won’t happen again.” It was final, almost an open threat. However, Billy couldn’t help but feel wishful.
‘Again’… Were you planning on staying?
He nodded, looking up you with reassuring eyes, knowing he’ll try his damn best to be better with the promise of you staying here with him.
Leaving it as that, you looked over the current state of yourself, recognizing how fucked up you looked for the first time, your resentment slowly dissipating once you glanced off to the side where the nightstand stood.
“Was that for me?” You pointed at the plate of food Billy offered you, and Billy nodded affirmatively.
Tentatively, you reached over for the glass of water, placing it on your bottom lip as you sipped slowly. Billy watched as you gradually drank; your small sips turning into mouthfuls, nearly gulping it down in seconds, clinking the glass against your teeth in your haste. So much so, water was starting to dribble down your chin, making a mess below.
You finished with a heavy sigh, breathing heavily after nearly drowning yourself. You looked down at Billy, who did nothing but sit by your bedside on his knees and watch you.
“I need more.” You told him, and it was all you needed to say as you held out the glass for him to take. And Billy quickly took it, getting up without a second thought to refill it for you.
Anything for Pretty Piggy.
When he came back into the room with another full glass of water, he held it out for you to take as he watched you scarf down the slice of toast, leaving no room in your mouth to chew.
Wiping away the crumbs from your face, you finally took notice of Billy’s staring, simply staring back at him. The same intensity as before, not once backing down.
Billy noticed the hunger in your eye, not knowing if it was the starvation nor the resentment you still had towards him.
But Billy would do anything to make you happy now that he has you back.
