[ okay. okay. it's fine. it's fine. fuck - if there's anybody he can trust in his head, it's billy. so many of their demons are identical. eddie just... wears his less obviously. ]
Nah, nah, let me get the hang of this - [it's like leaving a warm bath, which is not really a thought he ever imagined having about Eddie's innermost thoughts. ]
Can you read my mind? [surely? if he wants him to? he thinks bats, because he's mean. ]
[ oh yeah this is gonna be a whole thing, isn't it. the fluttery uncertainty billy feels when faced with affirmations is - well it was obvious from a distance. it's sort of upsetting up close. eddie threads his fingers through his bedhead, tilting his head back. ]
[there is, for one blissful whole thirty-forty seconds, a huge swell of gratitude, of fondness. of relief to have someone be able to know him without the preamble of having to say what he means, what he feels. without having to explain himself.
then it's back to that wired uncertainty; that age old Billy Terror of messing up. ]
We gotta tell Steve. I'll figure how to to pull myself out - I know it's a lot -
No, no like - I just wanna sit in there for a bit. Like a hot shower? I don't fucking know dude. Like when you're a kid and you wanna go through your folks stuff, or just sit on their bed for a bit.
[ there's a brief flash of... something. a messy living space. temporary. spartan. home is a truck and his father's things are in the dash, and whatever is in there is what makes him turn into a different person.
[there is a returning thing: it's bedsheets that smell like floral tones and fresh air. a little like sea salt, warm and safe, and then cold, empty and slightly stale. there's the feeling of missing the sea salt, of missing arms around him, of soft singing. these are all Billy's private things - things that are his. he's making a point.
but then Eddie is close, and Billy feels that other kind of warmth. the relief, the fondness. ]
[ California. No wonder Billy wants to return there, it screams of home for him. ]
B, I'm not worried about you seeing my secrets. [ his life has been messy. but it's his.
it's more the... the emotions that could be bad. the loneliness that claws at him. all the years he spent being othered. ] But the ugly bits are pretty ugly.
You're worried about your ugly parts? Eddie, look at who you're talking to.
[he's all ugly parts, more or less: hurt; angry; slightly bitter. ] We'll figure it out, man. Eventually.
[it's so juvenile, how he wants to curl up now. like that's something you do with your friends, put your head in their lap to feel close to them, or wrap your arms around them to feel the anchor of being alive. ]
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[ okay. okay. it's fine. it's fine. fuck - if there's anybody he can trust in his head, it's billy. so many of their demons are identical. eddie just... wears his less obviously. ]
Are you stuck? Do I need to like... shove you?
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Can you read my mind? [surely? if he wants him to? he thinks bats, because he's mean. ]
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You're a dick, you know that right? [ he gestures towards the barred window. ] Bats.
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Yeah, but that's why you love me.
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So... are we just psychically linked now?
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[he isn't sure what to do with that affection now that he's certain it's real! doesn't know what to do with Eddie knowing he's a bit weird about it! ]
God, this might be a nightmare.
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Welp. In for a penny.
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then it's back to that wired uncertainty; that age old Billy Terror of messing up. ]
We gotta tell Steve. I'll figure how to to pull myself out - I know it's a lot -
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[ he holds his hands up, palms out. ]
We can tell Steve once we got a little more of a handle on this.
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it is a big deal though. ] Okay, okay. I think because it's new, I'm like - gravitating towards you like a magnet?
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Like, you want to have physical contact with me, oooooor?
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No, no like - I just wanna sit in there for a bit. Like a hot shower? I don't fucking know dude. Like when you're a kid and you wanna go through your folks stuff, or just sit on their bed for a bit.
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he drops down onto the bed next to him. ]
I'm pretty much an open book.
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[there is a returning thing: it's bedsheets that smell like floral tones and fresh air. a little like sea salt, warm and safe, and then cold, empty and slightly stale. there's the feeling of missing the sea salt, of missing arms around him, of soft singing. these are all Billy's private things - things that are his. he's making a point.
but then Eddie is close, and Billy feels that other kind of warmth. the relief, the fondness. ]
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B, I'm not worried about you seeing my secrets. [ his life has been messy. but it's his.
it's more the... the emotions that could be bad. the loneliness that claws at him. all the years he spent being othered. ] But the ugly bits are pretty ugly.
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[he's all ugly parts, more or less: hurt; angry; slightly bitter. ] We'll figure it out, man. Eventually.
[it's so juvenile, how he wants to curl up now. like that's something you do with your friends, put your head in their lap to feel close to them, or wrap your arms around them to feel the anchor of being alive. ]
- Thanks. Thanks for - this.
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I'm talking to my generous friend who is sometimes a colossal prick. But that is, weirdly, why I love him.
It's no problem, man. You feeling better?
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Your generous friend sounds exhausting. But he's fine. More or less.
[generous. ha. ] If I start growing tentacles, you promise to take me out?
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[that's a relief too. ] I wonder how close I gotta be to be like, in your head.
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[and - okay, yes. a use for it. and if - if it's safe, he wonders if Eddie could just, piggyback off of him to connect with others? hm. ]
I don't know what's worse, though - those goddamn walkie talkies, or having a bunch of us in your head.
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[ it's a little mean but he says it fondly. ]
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