Kev and I fell into bed at about 10 that night, completely worn out. At 2:13 am, a banging on my door woke me up. Stumbling out of bed, I opened it. Damon was standing there, shifting his weight and looking nervous. "Billy," he muttered, and I immediately followed him to the end of the hall, where the communal bathroom was.
Billy was sitting on the floor against the wall, knees pulled up to his chest. His eyes were red and his face tear-stained. He'd been sick. He looked at us, and muttered, "Dame," and the dark haired boy immediately sat next to him, pulling him over into an embrace. Billy clung to his t-shirt, burying his face in Dame's neck. I crouched next to both of them, rubbing the back of Billy's neck gently.
"It's ok, Billy. Just a dream. It's all right." I murmured the words, knowing he wasn't listening and they wouldn't help. They had never been just dreams to him. And this routine was familiar to all three of us. Billy'd had the night terrors since as long as I'd known him. It was something that we never talked about. He never told us what they were about, and we never asked. Billy lived with his distant and busy father. His mother had died before I met him, that much he'd told us, but he never said how.
He spent the night with Dame or I, or all of us together, a lot. We'd take care of him at night. I always worry about him a little bit when we aren't there, but I think he calls Dame some nights, too. Like I said, it's familiar to us, and in a few minutes Billy could breathe a bit easier. "Ok?"
He nodded and swiped a hand across his eyes. "Ok."
And that was it. He and Dame went back to their room, and I went back to mine. Kev hadn't woken up. As usual, it took me a long time to get back to sleep.
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Dame's POV
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It kills me, what Billy goes through. I don't know what it's really about, except something to do with his mother. I've never asked him what he dreams of. I don't think I really want to know. It also just seems...tactless, to ask. It would be like asking him about the scar that runs from his armpit to his hip on his left side. Just don't do it.
We lay in the darkness a few moments, before Billy speaks. "Dame? Can you-"
"Yeah." I throw back my own covers and slip out of bed, getting in beside him. My arms encircle him, and he snuggles against me like he always does, closing his eyes and sighing. As for me, I don't know what I'm doing. I can't tell anymore. I've always comforted him, since we were like 6 years old. But...now...now, it's not just comfort anymore. I want to comfort him, and protect him, and fucking kill whoever it was that did this to him so long ago, whatever it was. I also want to kiss him, which I think is probably not good. Not good at all.
He proves me wrong a lot. Again, he does it. Those heartbreaking blue eyes open, and he looks at me. "Dame?"
"Yeah, Bill."
"I - I love you, Dame. That you do this for me-"
I run my fingers through his hair, tightening my hold on him. "Oh, God, Billy, I love you, too." And I move my head very slightly, and press my lips to his, and kisses back very gently but very sweetly. And I want more, but now is not the time. So I pull back and keep my arms around him. His eyes shine at me.
"I thought Park was the gay one," he says, a smile playing on his lips.
"He is," I tell him, smiling. "He's gay. We're just...in love."
He sighs, and his body shudders against mine. He closes his eyes, but the smile remains, and he presses his cheek to my neck as we sleep.