selfhelp | [IC] Appointments Post

[Billy lasts as long as hearing Teddy sob before he stumbles away, hitting the nearest wall and backing up into the corner. He slides down the wall, landing hard, and tucks his knees to his chest, hands clenched tightly over his ears. Teddy's crying. He's crying, he's sick, and Teddy's never sick, he made him sick-

you make him sick

His hands tighten over his ears, breathing hard, trying to drown the sound out, but it keeps echoing in his head, over and over.

you failed you failed

you made him cry again

you always do this

ever since he came back you've done nothing but hurt him

he supported you, protected you, helped you find yourself again, piece by piece, and this is what you give him in return?

you think a stupid spell can make it all better?

your magic is broken

your promise is broken

no more magic, that's all he wanted, no more magic and you can't stop yourself

He gasps, smacking his head back against the wall, as if the act alone will drive the voices out, but all it does is make them grow louder, taunting him with his own failures. It's his own voice, it's always his own voice, but it doesn't even sound like him anymore. It's too calm, too confident. He's not that person anymore. It's a much better person than he is, now.

I want to be someone better

I want to be someone better

He wants to chant it, repeat it over and over, recreate the part of reality he hates more than anything else in the world. But it won't work. He knows it won't work. It's the one spell that never, ever does. And magic can't save him anymore, can it? His magic is broken, just like him. So broken it - he - even managed to drive Teddy away. He'd promised to never leave and Billy hadn't given him a choice.

Cut out his tongue, Loki had threatened- and god, Billy wishes he had, now. If he'd just cast that one little spell, driven him to it, maybe- maybe this wouldn't have happened. He can't cast if he can't speak. Or hear his words spoken. That was what the warden had said, hadn't he? He could do it himself- there's knives in the kitchen, he's got teeth- he could-

go ahead, mangle yourself trying to make it all better, leave another mess for Teddy to clean up

is that all you can do?

He goes still, the only sign of movement a steady tremor passing through his body. It's true, isn't it? It would be so easy for him, but Teddy would have to deal with it, Teddy would see him like that and how would he feel?

relieved

no, that's just you

The truth is, he doesn't know what's best for Teddy anymore. He thought he did, this time, and look how wrong he was. Look how much damage he caused. Over and over, he can hear it. Over and over. The sound of broken promises and broken hearts.

don't hurt yourself, don't leave a mess

just

disappear]

...I... I-I want to die... I want to die... IwanttodieIwanttodieIwanttodieIwanttodie--

[one more spell and he'll be free

that's good, isn't it? that's right-]

[Teddy doesn't hear what's going on, the sound of his own harsh cries and the blood pounding in his ears drowning it all out. If he knew, he would've stopped himself and Billy as soon as he could.

But right now, he's too deep in his own grief to think of anything else. It's like reliving that night again, when he'd woken up in sweat and then ended up just like this, head against the warming seat and hands over his mouth to keep from waking anyone else up.

He wants to grab his phone and call her number. He wants to leave a voicemail. He wants to hear her voice say that she isn't there right now, but leave a message and I'll return your call as soon as I can. He wants, he wants -

God, he's just a stupid kid who misses his mom and wants her back, is that so wrong?]

[It takes at least ten minutes of chanting it before Billy realizes he's still alive.

He trails off slowly, his hands drifting down from his head to fall limp against his sides, and he leans back until his head touches the wall, staring blankly at the ceiling. He's not dead.

I'm not dead.

It's another two minutes of quietly repeating the phrase to himself over and over before it really sinks in. He's not dead, but why? His magic's supposed to work when he wishes for something, when he really wants it. And after all this, after everything he's done and everything he's been through, what could he possibly want more? What could be conflicting with that desire?

....

....

....

iwanttolive

With that one, tiny, pathetic realization, a sound escapes his lips, a little sob-hiccup-laugh that he can't bury, so he just lets it out. He can't die. He can't die because he wants to live. How stupid is that? How selfish?

I want to see Teddy smile again.

I want it to not be too late.

I want to make everything better again.

I want to be me.

I want to be better.

It's terrifying. The will to live is terrifying. It grips his chest, curls around his heart like a fire, seering and aching and choking at his breath, and it hurts but it feels good. He laughs as much as he cries, quietly, hands pressed over his mouth to muffle the sound, tears slipping unhindered between his fingers. It's not as if he really liked who he was, or thought very highly of himself. Before this happened, before everything fell to pieces. He was proud, a bit. He liked living. Sometimes he even loved it. He loved his family and he loved his friends, and he loved being a super hero. And Teddy. He loved Teddy. He loved living with Teddy and being with Teddy and seeing his smiling face every day.

He loved living.

Loves.

He loves living.

The spell didn't work. He doesn't want to die, so the spell didn't work.

Thank god. Thank god.

And so he cries, because now that he's staying alive he doesn't know what else to do.]

[It's much the same thing for Teddy; he's alive and he doesn't know what to do. What's a teenager supposed to do when the one guiding figure in his life is gone?

...

Pick up the pieces, glue them together as best as you can, and keep going.

His mother died for him to protect him, to ensure that he kept living. Her last words were that his real mother wanted to protect him too, even from her own people, even from ones she considered her friends.

It was by their love that he was kept alive and, though he's always unsure about bringing his religious upbringing into anything, he's sure there was some higher power at work for keeping them all alive, too. God, or whatever anyone else believed in, whatever his mom and mother believed in. They were all put here for a reason, even if it's not an important one.

He's still looking for his reason, and his mom ensured that he'd find it.

Teddy might not know what to do with his life, even less so when he'll return home. But his mom, his mother, even his father, gave him the chance to find it.

His tears slow, enough that he can just shift again and make them stop completely, although he doesn't make a move to wipe them away just yet. He still sits there, arms around his stomach now, thinking about all kinds of things and letting his grief settle.

He just needs a few more minutes, he knows it. Then he can stand up, wash his face and...]

[Eventually, Billy settles down, at least enough to try and think clearly while he still has the time - and the sense of self. Inwardly, he begins making something of a to-do list for the future, eyes closing, checking them off one by one in his mind. To keep him occupied, to keep him focused. To become a better person... the hard way.

No more magic, he already decided, is at the top of the list. He won't promise Teddy again- he won't promise anything to Teddy again, not when he keeps breaking them- but he'll promise himself, and hopefully, when the responsibility is on his shoulders, he'll hold himself to it.

No hurting yourself, no dying, is number two. Two and three, really. Either of them would only cause Teddy more harm, in the end, and that's the last thing he wants or needs. Teddy's what matters right now. His safety, his well-being, his sanity, his happiness. He'll stay alive and well for Teddy's sake. Because he wants it. Because he wants to live.

Find yourself, is the last on the list - for now, as he's sure he'll come up with more later - and in a way, the most important. All of his problems stem from how lost he is, how he's drowning in the dark and half the time can't even think to reach for the help people have been offering to him. They did their part. The rope's been dropped. He needs to climb it.

That's why, then and there, tucked away in the corner of the room, alone in the dark, he tucks his body in close, sitting cross-legged, feet up, hands on his knees. His back is straight but not rigid, and he focuses on just... breathing for a while, calm and quiet, in and out. Marveling in the simple act of air flowing through his lungs.

I'm alive.

I shouldn't be alive.

He'd almost died, he remembers. Before. When they'd been taken. He'd forgotten for a while, but he can feel the scars around his neck where the collar had rested, the arcs of pale, tightened skin forming a ring, almost like the collar had been burned into his flesh. He thinks back on that near-death, sinks into it for a moment, and then lets it go, too.

I'm alive.

I'm alive because I want to be.

It's so... liberating, that feeling, and he lets it wash over him, losing track of time as he waits. Calm, calm. He'll be calm for Teddy. He'll be useful. He'll support his partner in his time of need and he will not. Use. Magic.

Ever.

Never again.

Most of all - one more for the list, a chant he says under his breath without casting, a wish to the wind instead of a poke at reality - I want to be someone better.

He chants, he breathes, he settles. And he waits. He's not budging until Teddy comes out, so they can talk. So he can listen. After that... well, it depends.

But he's alive.

So that's something.]

[Eventually, the water runs to clean his face, because while he can shift things on or away, he can't exactly shift away the dried tear tracks on his face. He presses his face against the hand towel, breathes into it for a moment, then lowers it to look into the mirror.

God, he hates what he sees.

But right now, he needs to focus. His eyes are red, they should be clear again. There's still tension in his brow. His cheeks are slightly flushed, and there's a spot on his forehead where he'd pressed against the toilet seat for... how long now? He isn't sure.

The thought of going out there and seeing Billy again doesn't give him the same comfort it usually does. He just... doesn't want to see that same blue in his eyes, doesn't want to see him so distant... doesn't want to call and be ignored again. Just all the more evidence that he's alone after all.

Most of all, he doesn't want to see him creating spell after spell to make him happy. Breaking promise after promise in the process.

Still... he can't hide away forever. So he puts his hand on the door, takes in a deep breath, and opens it, a final shift taking place, over his voice, so that it doesn't sound quite so rough.]

Billy...?

[Billy waits a moment, easing himself into it, inching back to reality. He stops his chant - no, no, self-motivated cheer, he can hear his mother's voice in his ear, it's different from chanting, from magic - and breathes in, out, in, out, one more time. Finds that center, the one he'd been seeking since he started. And it still feels... off-kilt, in a way, the axis of his rotation a bit wobbly at the ends, but it's better than before. Much better. He'd been knocked back into orbit.

He just wishes the cost hadn't been so high.

I'll make it better. I have to make it better. Even if all he has to offer is himself, pitiful and broken as he is, he'll keep trying. For Teddy.

And so:]

I'm here.

[His voice is tentative, faint, drenched in regret, and he moves his hands from his knees to twist together in his lap. He has no idea what to expect, no idea what to say. He just knows that he has to work it out somehow. Make it right.]

[Teddy has no idea what to say either, or what to even do. He stands there in the doorway, hand holding the doorknob, body tense, feet frozen because he isn't sure if he wants to walk into the room or not.

What did I do to you? He wants to ask. Why did you do that? Why do you keep breaking the promises we made? Why did you think showing me my dead mom was okay?

...

Am I really so unwanted by you?

He glances to the side, then down at the floor, lips pursed as he pushes those thoughts aside. He has so many questions, and he's not in the mood to want to ask anything else. But he can't possibly ask those... They would upset Billy more, possibly send him right back to the window and staring at nothing.

A pillar, that's what he needs to be. Even if he presents it in a crumbled state, he needs to be something. Something that isn't him.]

... They're gone now?

[Teddy's expression is upsetting, but Billy fights not to let it show on his face. It's probably the first time in a while that he's let himself be sort of honest about how he feels. And Billy can't blame him for feeling that way at all.

I'd be worse. So much worse.

He still doesn't hate me, does he.]

...They're gone. I won't do that again.

[He doesn't promise. He knows better than to promise again. But swallowing back his fear, he leans forward briefly, patting the carpet in front of him, his gaze pleading and expecting a refusal. Still, he has to try.]

Will you sit with me for a minute? Just a minute...

[I won't force you to stay if you don't want to be here.]

[Honestly, a part of Teddy doesn't want to take up that offer. He wants to be out of here, he wants to find Katniss or Mia or whoever and let everything that just happened off of his chest, how he had to watch his mom disappear again.

But as he stands there, he sees Billy's eyes, and even though his thoughts on what they mean conflict, pleading wins out. And - When has this ever happened? Ever since Billy's been possessed, he hasn't asked anything like that before. Sit with him for just a minute...

His better nature and the ever hopeless love he feels takes over his need to get away. So finally, after looking at the spot for a moment, his body relaxes enough to get him to move, not away and towards the door, but to the spot where Billy indicated he should be. There he sits, knees bent and hands on top of them, eyes away for a second before he glances at Billy.

He's here.]

[It’s terrifying, now that Teddy’s sitting down and facing him. He falters; the words escape him, and he shifts in his seat, trying to find that center again. Breathe. In, out. Teddy stayed. Teddy doesn't hate him.

or he does and he’s not saying

In, out. In, out.

He’ll do this anyway, whether he's hated or not. He'll do this because he needs to. Because Teddy deserves it.]

...I’m sorry. And that- I know it doesn't even begin to cover what I just did, doesn't even come close. I don’t know what could do that. I’m afraid to ask.

[I'm afraid of a lot of things these days.

I don't want to be afraid of you.

I don't want you to be afraid of me.]

What I do know is that... I’m done making promises. I keep breaking them, and that’s not fair. It’s just making it worse... for everyone. So I'll stop.

[He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath - in, out, in - his hands clasped together so tightly his knuckles have gone white.]

What I'm doing to you... what you're letting me do to you... it's not healthy. It's not fair. I'm hurting you over and over and half the time I don't even...

[His breath catches, and he lifts a hand to cover his mouth, looking up at the ceiling to focus on it instead of Teddy's face, taking a moment to compose himself before he breaks down again. He can't do that, not now. How he feels is nothing compared to how Teddy must be feeling. It's not about him anymore. It's about making things right.

even if you can't

even if you never-

Breathe. In. Out. In. Out.

just keep trying]

You should- I mean- I should go. Be somewhere else. Somewhere I can't hurt you, or anyone else. I hate this, I hate that I can't control it, I hate...

[I hate me...

I don't want to go...

He shudders, glancing at Teddy once more, and his eyes are so brown.]

Will you walk me to the tunnels?

[I don't want to go.

But it's better than driving you to leave me...]

[For a moment, Teddy wasn't sure what Billy was getting at. It felt like a build-up towards - towards separating, like Billy was going to suggest breaking things off to stop hurting him. It causes him to slowly change posture - from slouching to sitting up straight, fear and anxiety building up in his chest. He can't be, he can't possibly be -

why not, you're not the one he wants

But then the real question comes, and while it doesn't make Teddy relax, it does ease some of the anxiety. He's not asking to leave their relationship or anything... Okay.

That still leaves the problem of the fact that Billy just asked to go to the tunnels, and while that would turn his magic off - it's still the tunnels, dark and lonely and sure to be cold, what with the weather. Both of them are always eager to get out of there when they have to walk through it, so the thought of forcing Billy to stay down there just because he can't control himself right now is - it's not right to Teddy, even if it is a good decision.

He frowns, sets his jaw, and scoots forward a bit to be closer, then reaches out to place his hands against Billy's knees. He can see how much the thought of going down there distresses him (but is it really distress?), and Teddy isn't about to let this happen.]

I will, but only if you let me stay with you until this thing is over. I'm not leaving you, Billy. I promised you that, and I don't plan on breaking it. You know as well as I do that you can't talk me out of staying.

[After a small pause, and a bit of thought, he lets his thumbs stroke as he tilts his head.]

Besides, how are we supposed to tell when it's over down there? I'm not saying it's not a good idea to think of ways to fix this. I just don't agree with you making yourself a prisoner.

Edited 2013-10-30 01:32 (UTC)

[Teddy just keeps on surprising him, one way or another. But for once, in Billy's mind, it's... not in a good way.

but it's what you wanted

His hands tighten again, a tremor passing through his body, and he gnaws gently on his lower lip, eyes darting off to the side. He doesn't understand. He doesn't- he'd given Teddy an out, an escape, a way to be free of the awfulness that's surrounded him the last three weeks, but he still...]

...Why?

[His reply is faint, strained and incredulous. It's not right. It can't be right. Why would anyone...?]

Haven't I done enough to you already?

[Why would you want to risk me doing something worse?]

[Funnily enough, when Teddy had been standing in the doorway, that thought did cross his mind.

Just stop, you've done enough already...

But hearing Billy out, seeing all the emotion in his eyes, which are clearer than he's seen them since this whole mess started, knowing how far he'd go to stop all this... Yes, he's still a little angry, still disturbed from what happened, and he feels like he's on the brink of crying over it again. But that's still no reason to treat the person he loves like a prisoner. And Billy had said so himself, right?

"- and half the time I don't even..."

He leans forward to look Billy in the eyes, his hands moving up to hold him by the elbows instead.]

Did you want to do those things to me?

No... no, no, no, I...

[He bows his head, blinking back tears that are getting harder and harder to fight, half-flinching at the touch- not because he doesn't want it, but because he does, and all of his wants are so harmful these days, and he can't hurt Teddy again, he can't. Touching Teddy could get him hurt, but pulling away... would that be worse?

He doesn't know. He doesn't know anything anymore.]

I want you to be happy... I want you to smile... I just... I keep doing everything all wrong... that's why I...

[I should stay away. Away from everyone, away from the town, away from you.

Just leave me there. I don't have to come out. I don't deserve to.]

Bad guys belong in prison, Teddy...

You're not a bad guy, Billy. You keep saying it yourself; you're not meaning the things you're doing, all you're trying to do is make things right. It just doesn't go the way you want them to, because there's something in there [He tilts his chin to indicate to his head - ] that's twisting it up.

[And he could easily... easily smile and be happy. Teddy knows what he looks like when he smiles. He knows his mannerisms when he's happy. He could do it, it'd be so easy.

Right now, though, he doubts it'd be any help. It'd just make Billy feel worse, he's sure.]

Billy... I won't be happy if you're in a prison. I sure as hell won't smile. I'll be happy when this is over... and how can you tell it's over when you're in a place that's suppressing everything?

[He does finally let go, if only to lean back and pick at the carpet, a small frown on his face, thinking back to how the weeks have gone by.]

You might not notice it, Billy, but you've been getting better. You've been... you more times than a couple weeks ago. I think you do fight it, even if you don't feel it happening. It's just... sometimes it overwhelms you, right? And you feel like the only way to make it go away is to do something to yourself, too.

[He shuts his eyes and shakes his head.] I don't... think it's that easy. It's something they did to you, when you... when they... [The image pops into his head, the image of Billy slumped forward, the sound of the monitor letting out a long beep, and how he was so, so still... and Teddy tenses in spite of himself.] Y-You can't fight it if you're down there alone. Not if you don't want them to win.

[He makes himself relax, then glances up at Billy again.]

If they made Wanda, or... If they made me go crazy and stay crazy, would you throw me in a prison, even if I didn't want to hurt anyone? Do you think I should be treated like some kind of monster, even though I couldn't help anything I was doing? How would you want me to be treated?

...I...

[God. Oh god, he'd be just as stubborn about it, wouldn't he? He'd fight, he'd argue, he'd protect Teddy as best as he could from anything, anyone that threatened him, even his own mind. He thinks back to all the times he'd stuck by Teddy and supported him through this and that, the way Teddy was supporting him now, and had done so in the past as well. How he'd felt no fear when Teddy touched him in either form, with super-strength, even knowing that Teddy could hurt him with barely a twitch the wrong way. He'd stayed through his identity crisis, and...

...and the death of his mother...

A lump forms in Billy's throat, thick and heavy, and he swallows it with a stricken expression on his face, unable to look Teddy in the eyes anymore. He'd done that. He'd killed her all over again.

And he's still here.]

I'd feel... exactly the same.

[But it isn't you. It's me. It's me and I've done so much already, and I know I have the power left to do so much more... why risk it? Just for me?

Why am I still worth it, to you?

He doesn't dare ask. Not with Teddy looking at him like that.]

...but... then... what should I do...?

First, stop thinking that locking yourself away is the only way to solve this. Second, have a little more faith. In your friends, in yourself... in me. You're not alone in this, and you've gotten further down the road to you than you think. And I think I'm better prepared for whatever might happen, too.

Third... [Teddy reaches out again, this time to take Billy's hands, his eyes on them while they show something like a tinge of sadness.] Don't just assume there's an easy way to solve a problem, or to make someone happy. Sometimes, these things take time. Sometimes it's hard. I know you were used to fixing things with a wave of your hand for a while... but I think you're starting to get that life isn't that easy. Sometimes you can't fix it.

I think if you accept all that... it'll be easier to beat out that thing in your head telling you to do all these things. [He raises his brow, his grip tightening a little.] Okay?

[Billy doesn't answer for a while, his gaze fixated on Teddy's hands around his. Holding him, supporting him. Taking care of him like always.

Sometimes you can't fix it. He wonders, quietly, what that means for him, though he's sure that wasn't Teddy's intent. Maybe he can't be fixed, either. Maybe he can't get better. Maybe all of this is a waste.

...but...

Slowly, hesitantly, he lets his eyes drift upwards, seeking Teddy's once more. He's so sad, but... so determined, too. So strong. After this. After everything. His grip is strong, and his voice, and his words, and...

...and Billy had seen, for the first time in a long while, a hidden fragility there, signs of a wall of strength being chipped away, bit by bit. By him, by what he's become.

That. That... is what he needs to fix. The part of Teddy that he's breaking, a little more every day. And he needs to be strong enough to make it better.

These things take time.

It'll be hard.

...but...

I can fix it, can't I...?

Silently, he adds it to his list. Pushed right to the top, circled, underlined, highlighted. With a footnote. Slowly.

And out loud, he murmurs:]

...Okay.

... Okay.

[Teddy bows his head and lets out a long sigh, shoulders relaxing. This is better than Billy saying he should lock him away and never turn back, that someone should kill him... everything that makes Teddy's stress only build more, and he's not sure how long he'll last until he snaps or breaks down or whatever.

At least he already let everything out in the restroom. That helped a little, even if he feels weaker for it.

And he'll stay. Maybe he can talk to someone over the journals, but - he'll stay. For Billy's sake, for his own sake. Because he loves him, still loves him beyond a shadow of a doubt, and he is not going to let a possession ruin the one thing he has left, the person he loves more than anything else in the world.

He's not leaving.

He promised.]

[Two days isn't much time, in the grand scheme of things, but it's long enough to make a difference, apparently. Billy's slept more, as if afraid of what his waking self is capable of, but as a result his time awake is more coherent, more clear, more attentive than before. He feels... more like himself, bit by bit, with every conversation, his relapses into the darkness of his own head falling out of the majority for the first time since he found himself back in Luceti, alone.

He's not better, he knows. He can still feel the difference, the presence of something overwhelmingly powerful, too much for even a reality bender to handle. But it's... settled, for now. And he finds that he likes it that way.

He's still keeping himself very much isolated, besides Teddy, but he doesn't feel the same discomfort when he's left on his own. It sort of feels like, the more that time passes since he'd- since he'd re-learned how to value his own life, the more he develops his independence. He used to have a lot more of it, but... well, Teddy had said it best. These things take time.

And he is getting better.

Today, waiting for Teddy to come home in the early evening, Billy is tucked up on the sill of the open window in his room, one foot braced against the side to keep him balanced, the other dangling over the edge. He's watching the sunset, and whenever he hears it, he whistles an echo of a bird calling from one of the taller trees beside the building. Misty is curled up around a little blanket on the bedside table he'd moved over to the window to help him climb up, since his arm still isn't one hundred percent, and he has one hand buried in her fur, scratching just the way she likes it, judging by the way she purrs.

It's... peaceful. Calm. Like everything's normal, everything's great.

Another good day.]

[In contrast, Teddy found little sleep in those nights, not only to keep an eye on Billy, but also because his dreams are no longer the content ones he'd usually have, sometimes dotted by nightmares of the Cube and his mother and the war. Now there's the kidnapping, his fake killing him with Billy saying it was better this way, and recently, his mother disappearing, asking him why he let that happen to her, tears running down her cheeks.

He considers it a good thing that he can easily shift out signs of this, even though he feels a bit like he's dead on his feet. More often than not, he dozed off on the bench he sat on, or at the fountain's edge, with Optimus licking at his face to wake him up. His dog is an active one, and he hadn't been on a walk in far too long. It was showing, and Teddy wanted him to work it off. Really, OP did most of the work by playing on his own while Teddy kept taking power naps, only to be woken when the dog got lonely and unsettled by the lack of activity.

Finally, however, they're back at the apartment. Maybe Teddy can sleep on the couch again... Maybe, if it was a good day for Billy which, when he left, it seemed to be. He talked more, actually acknowledge that Teddy was leaving and would be back. Looked at him. Teddy's eyes were green at the time.

They're blue now, having not found the energy to keep up with both keeping the fatigue off his face and shifting colors and shapes. So he looks normal as he unlocks the door and walks in, Optimus already trotting inside with a wagging tail.]

Hey, I'm... [He trails off when he sees Billy on the windowsill, yet it's different from before. Billy's too far outside the window, one leg dangling, the other on the sill, and just a tilt to one side could make him fall, and with him saying he wasn't going to use magic, he - what if he - ]

Billy? [Teddy tries not to sound panicked when he moves to the window, one hand reaching out to hold Billy by the arm of his hoodie when he's close enough. At least - At least if he fell, he could be caught, and god, what if he was trying to - ]

[Billy jumps at the sudden grab, tilting sideways- though thankfully it's towards the pull of Teddy's hand, rather than over the edge. Disturbed by all the movement around her, Misty jumps down and scampers out of the room, but Billy doesn't even notice; his attention is on Teddy, his expression startled and confused. Why did he look so upset...?]

Wh-what? What did I do?

[His gaze darts around the room, searching for any signs that something was wrong. Had he accidentally cast another spell? Oh god, what mess has he caused this time?]

What? You...

[Teddy had taken a step forward and wrapped his free arm around Billy's waist so that he could fall against him instead of the floor, and from there, he looks down at Billy's face, then at the windowsill, where he could've easily tumbled to the other side and...]

You were... [But when he says it in his head, "too close to the edge", it sounds... so dumb. And with how confused Billy looks (is that it?), he's sure he got it wrong. So, Teddy narrows his eyes and looks to the side, all kinds of things running through his head - idiot stupid dumbass you made a big deal out of nothing.] We're... high up, so...

[Billy pauses, glancing over his shoulder, out the window. Yes, they are high up. Very much so. It's actually what he liked about it; it reminded him of home, of the high-rise apartment he grew up in, eleven floors of glorious height to watch the city from, a window to climb out of and take off into the-

...oh.

He purses his lips, lifting his hand to rest on Teddy's chest, and uses the support to carefully pull his leg back into the room, sliding off the windowsill and dropping down onto the carpeted floor, bare feet firmly planted. He looks down, not quite sure how to feel about the exchange.]

...I wouldn't... have jumped.

[Action, October 25th] tw for suicidal talk I REMEMBERED THIS TIME D:

[Action, October 25th] hnnngh ;~;

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