otherbitches | IC Inbox [ RUBI ]

[ She's been gone. Before, sometimes she'd be 'gone,' when they weren't attached at the hip, but she'd always be there too, a little echo of her that flutters in his chest, always a heart beat away. But she's been gone, and it feels so good to have her gathered close to him again, even if he feels like an open wound, even if his eyes are wet and glassy, even if she's squeezing him and pressing her face into his chest and sobbing.

His hands rise automatically, intuitively know how to hold her. How to press one on her lower back and the other at the back of her neck, fingers in dark locks, thumb a steady pressure against her neck. He didn't know he could do that, didn't know he knew how to hold.

But it still feels—this conversation started with Danny and he doesn't understand how she can mean what she means to him, and laugh it up with Ghostface behind wards. It aches. He never wants to think about it again, but it hangs on him like a specter.

He feels stupid when he mutters against the crown of her head: ] ...For what?

[What is she sorry for? She clings to him, the fabric of his shirt fisted between both sets of her fingers, her tears on the front, on his skin. ] I'm sorry I hurt you.

[She did; she knows this. She breathes out a trembling breath.

She wants to bury her face here. Go silent, never speak another word between them. Reluctantly she pulls away, backs up and sits at the end of the bed, her head falling into her hands. She can't stay quiet, though. ] I'm sorry I disappeared on you, too. I needed space to try and clear my head. I always thought things were easy between me and Petre, you know? But he's - so different. I just didn't know what to do with all these feelings, and the more I fell for you and - I got into my own head about losing you before I had even told you how I feel.

[She scrubs her palms over her eyes. ] Seems stupid, now, doesn't it? [Seems juvenile. She wets her lips, looks up at him; her eyes feel very heavy. Deep set, so, so tired.]

I'm sorry that I didn't tell you about him. [Admitting to being naïve, to being incredibly stupid, tastes bitter. Sour. She sucks in a breath and holds on tighter. She knew. She knew. ]

[ They disconnect because they have to, because they won't get anywhere without untangling. She sits and she looks like a doll. Long lank hair, watery eyes. He thinks he could scoop her up and put her somewhere safe, where no one would find her, where no one could take her.

He's listening. It's hard to listen, because he hurts, and he still wants to just grab her, crush him against his chest before hiding her away. He grits his teeth and tries to listen. She's hurting. Has been hurting, over this fucking guy Billy still hasn't gotten eyes on. Is he worth the pain? Is Billy one wrong universal swap away from being him? The thoughts are a jumble, but she...

He breathes. ] It's not stupid. I mean... it's fucking stupid that you—

[ He breathes. ] I get that I'm not— [ He grits his teeth. ] The easiest person to talk to. But why did you...

[ He breathes. ] Go to them? To him?

I didn’t go to Danny.

[She says this first. It somehow feels so important to say this first; that Billy knows this was never about Danny. That Danny came after, that he became important along the way. She reaches for him - lifts her arm, fingers outstretched. ]

I went to John because he’s - older, you know? A little less human than all of us. Like maybe he would get it, or tell me I was being stupid about it. And he did, more or less.

[Tell her she was being stupid; not directly, but she felt it, after. ] It’s nice there. It feels a little impenetrable? But I’m not there because I don’t want to be here with you. I want to be with you all the time.

[She wants her fingers touching his, already misses the feel of him against her. ] And I’m so terrified that you’ll never want to be near me again because I - I care about them. Even him.

[ Like a magnet, like an invisible string, he steps forward as if compelled. His hand is so much bigger than hers. His fingers card through hers, secure.

It's not easy to put into words. There's too much, this month has brought up too many confusing details, danger and hurt. He doesn't know John. He hardly knows House. But he knows Danny. ] It did feel impenetrable, [ it comes out too cold; he bites his lip and looks away. It is impenetrable behind its wards; and he had an invitation but not from her. He used it to stick a knife in Danny Johnson. He stews for a beat, just a beat, and then heaves out a breath. ]

I don't know them. Do they even give a shit about what Johnson did? What am I— fuck! What am I supposed to do when he does it to you? You 'care' about him. What's there to fucking care about, Jem? Because Smith thought he cared about him and look where that got him! [ His voice rises, thinking about Quentin, but also Felipe, and somewhere, three kids from Hawkins being cut under his knife. ]

[She squeezes his hand; covers it with the other and drags it to her mouth to kiss his knuckles; turns it over and kisses his wrist. ] I believe that they care. Is that enough?

[Is that worth anything here? Is it worth anything at all, anymore? ] I'm going to say something that will sound really fucked up or like I'm losing my mind. [She's looking up at him, resigned to this already. Her mouth is back against his knuckles. She squeezes it again, tries to be reassuring - tries to find reassurance. ] I'm asking you not to act like I'm losing my mind or like I'm stupid, even if it sounds like I am.

[ Is it enough? What is he supposed to do when it happens to her? When Danny Johnson slips the chain again and its Jem's body cold and bloodless and dragged off to his den? Billy won't survive it, not intact, not when he tears Danny apart.

He breathes out again, staring at her. He imagines he's not going to like what she has to say. He wonders what he's going to do if it's not enough.

But her skin is warm and her mouth is hot on his hands, and he's felt so cold without her.

He squeezes back. ] ...Shoot.

Okay. [This comes out as a breath, like a relieved wheeze, a small exhale of air that has no steam. She keeps kissing his knuckles, lips moving over each bone like they provide unique comfort. She doesn't know how to say this, she realises, in a way that sounds sane.

So: ] I think - that Danny wouldn't hurt me, or - or kill me - unless I asked him to. [It does not sound even remotely normal, even as she says it, and still she believes it. It feels true. She waits, just a moment, and adds, slowly: ] And I know that John wouldn't let him hurt me, even if that wasn't true. And you promised not to act like I'm losing my mind.

[ She's right, it doesn't sound remotely normal, but Billy promised, or promised without promising, and his mouth seals into a stiff line so he doesn't yell and scream. So he doesn't handle this in a way that screams Billy Hargrove.

Her mouth is warm on his knuckles. His thumb slips to rub against the back of her fingers, a fought-for connection on both ends. ]

Why? [ He finally says, carefully. ] Because you're 'special'? [ That's Fuckboy 101. ]

No. [This comes out immediate, like it’s been on the tip of her tongue, like she’s been waiting exactly for just that. She isn’t special, she’s never special, what Jem is, is broken. There’s a gaping hole where any goodness in her goes to die. It comes out humourless, the no. ]

I think it’s just boring, if it’s like everything - everyone - else. It’s more interesting if I ask. If I ask, it’s - I don’t know. Like winning? [She swallows. ] It was the same with Petre. The same … Thought process. The longer I don’t ask, the more of me there is. The - [her cheeks are wet, again. ] It’s a test. I guess.

[ The comparison to Petre hurts, because she loved Petre, a version of him, and somewhere he's still out there, a person Jem loves and tried to cross the universe for. His jaw tightens, brow furrowing, he says: ] I don't want him to win.

[ He doesn't want him to hold her cooling body, he doesn't want him to fuck her or love her or have power over her, and it's monumentally fucked that he can't ask any of that of her.

Stubbornly, furiously:] You are special. To me.

[ And he's sure she's 'special' to him too. His grip tightens. ]

[Between them:] I don’t want him to win either.

[She’s so scared of dying. Months ago, if she had to, she would have wanted it to be Petre. It would have felt right, it would have felt deserved. Now she’s terrified all over.

Now she’s caught off guard, brows drawn together as she stares up at him, wanting so much to believe him. That she’s special to someone, the way she thought she was months ago.] Am I?

[ It's a small balm, but you win by not playing the game. Not that Billy can help but play the role he was cast in. When it comes to Danny, he almost always bites first, asks questions later, loses ground quickly. It infuriates him that Jem wants to play family. That Eddie doesn't seem to get it. That Billy's biting at their heels.

Now his teeth grit into a thin line before his response comes, sharp, percussive: ] Jesus Christ, yes, Jem!

[ It's not working, his expression crumples a little. She's still sitting on the bed, he's still standing, but he lowers, clumsily to his knees. It puts them at a level. ]

Of course you are. I don't think I— I don't think I could do this. Any of this. If it weren't for you.

[It's such a relief, and she feels so lousy that it's a relief. What a terrible burden, she thinks, to have to rely on Jem for anything at all, lest of all comfort or stability. She reaches for his face - one hand against his cheek, palm hot with longing, eyes wet with love. ] I love you.

[She says it again, because it's true. It's never been truer as it is now. ] I need you.

[If he asked her right now, to choose, she'd choose him. She would hate choosing, though; the trust would falter, it would crumble, it would be so terrible. But she'd choose him. ] If you left me I don't know what I'd do. I don't know how I'd - survive. Here.

[ She loves him, she needs him, he needs her, he loves her. His head tilts into her hand like a dog, blue eyes wet and gleaming when he stares at her. ]

I love you.

[ Even though all of this has hurt. And he can't ask, even though the thought rings in his head. He can't ask that, but he has to ask: ] What the fuck am I supposed to do? Jem? Smile while you play happy family with a guy that gets off on killing those— killing people I know?

I think - [the briefest hesitancy, because there’s so much fragility here. Them, this thing they have. ] I think he’s mostly saying whatever he’s saying to you to bait you into hurting him? Because that’s what gets him off.

[She doesn’t add the too. Probably doesn’t have to. ] Getting a rise. Being hurt. Probably more than him hurting other people.

[ Does Danny bait him? Sure, every time they interact. ] Oh. So he does it for a laugh, and I should forget about it.

[Frustrated:] You know that’s not what I’m saying.

[ Staring with heavy-lidded eyes. He wants to yell so very much. ] You're saying he's bragging about people he's killed to goad me. Yeah. Consider me goaded.

[For a terrible second, she thinks: this is it. He’s going to go. This is the deal-breaker, and it shouldn’t be. It shouldn’t be because the decision to cut Danny off should be easy. The very fact that she can’t - that it isn’t? Well.

She does the only thing she can: she kisses him. She kisses him so miserably desperate. She kisses him like this is the last time he might let her kiss him. ]

[ He accepts the kiss, opens his mouth to deepen it, because he always naturally opens himself to her. Even though— well.

He wonders if Danny's laughing somewhere. He hates him, Billy thinks, Ghostface's voice still so ever-present in his memory. His mouth moves against Jem's and he's not sure when he lost her in this way, but wills his heart to harden, to lock down every tumultuous feeling, because even if he wants to scream at her, crack her open and scoop Johnson out, he doesn't want to lose her. ]

[If Kieren were here, she knows the act of disownment would be easier. Choosing Kieren was always easy. Simple. Holy. Without, she’s just chasing her own happiness, filling up the emptiness inside of her any way she can. Under that, doesn’t she deserve Danny Johnson, to some degree? Doesn’t terrible beget terrible?

She thinks that Danny would never hurt a kid. In that way, he’s already better than her.

She tries to share this, somewhat. Abstract feelings through their psychic link, all the while she kisses him. She begs him again not to leave her. Please, please, please. If John left, if Danny left, if House left - she’d survive it. She’d harden up, she’d move on. Not Billy, though, never Billy. She pushes through, asks, in the angry turmoil of his mind do you understand that?]

How is he supposed to crack her open, lance that pain, let it bleed out and show her that her mistakes can't compare to the beast that Danny brags to be? Billy remembers Kieran, elder brother, clearly unimpressed by him picking up Jem, calling for her with a roar from the Camaro's engine. But Christ— he wishes he were hear— imagines he might find an unlikely ally.

He doesn't know if he understands what she's communicating, their minds a chaotic jumble of pain and love, and more importantly, he doesn't know if he can believe it, that she wouldn't choose them, but he grips painfully on this lost concept of her, keeps his hands on her body, his mouth moving against hers as he pushes stubbornly, furiously back to her: you're better than this place. Better than him even, not that it's hard.

She drags him onto her. She hauls him up, lays back and drags his weight onto her, into her. She hooks her legs around his hips to keep him there. She kisses him over and over so he can’t go.

But she has to breathe. In breathing, she says it verbally: “It’d be you.” This is easier to say than that she thinks he’s wrong about her being better than anything at all. She isn’t. He’s going to realise this sooner or later. “It is you.”

Edited 2024-02-25 10:28 (UTC)

His face is stricken and pleased and happy and angry and furious and he has too many competing furies in him, crashing against his love for her. It makes him blurt out: "He's not Kieran. He's never going to be Kieran."

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cw: references to dubcon

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