#also! and very importantly! johnny isn't just putting up with someone being shitty to him

[eoinmcgonigal]

07: Bill/Johnny

Catching up! Here's my very late thing for @almost-a-class-act 's prompt: Character A's ex-lover/high school acquaintance/friend they haven't seen in years has just turned up on their doorstep. "The curse. It's real."

For context/warning: Bill is massively dysregulated at the start of this.

Also. This is long. Oops.

-

He could do without the buzzer going. He could do without a lot of things happening today, but the last twenty four hours have just been like that. He’s still unsettled from running into Pat yesterday, and could seriously have done without that reminder of the past. It’s been three years since high school, and not one single memory that’s come back to Bill in the years since has been a good or happy one.

The intercom is, of course, still broken. Bill tugs his keys from their peg, and goes to answer the door manually. Two floors, four flights of stairs, and then he’s hefting the lock of the front door open, yanking on the unimpressive thing. The door swings open, over the worn mat, to reveal a typical grey day, and someone Bill never thought he’d see again. His heart trips, and then sinks to new, unknown depths, taking Bill’s already shit mood with it.

As gorgeous as ever, as perfectly handsome as Bill tries not to remember, Johnny Cooper stands in the street, smiling his brightest everybody-loves-me smile.

Bill doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve this.

“The curse,” he mutters to himself, pulling the door back towards himself so that there’s no space for Johnny to see past him, into the hallway. “It’s real.”

Johnny’s expression falters, falling. “What curse?”

Bill has no interest in dealing with this. It’s already a bad day. Facing the person he had a crush on since S3 the day after he bumped into the guy he disastrously dated for a whole week in S5 really is torture. The universe is laughing at him, and Bill half expects someone else from school to jump out from behind Johnny.

No one does. It’s a start. But Johnny is still there, staring up at him. “Um, I…”

“Yes?” Bill prompts. He wants to get this over with. “What is it?”

Johnny recoils from the tone of his voice. Bill can tell it was perhaps a bit abrupt, but he really doesn’t care. “I, um…” Johnny repeats.

Bill lets out a sigh, aching to turn away. There’s a deep, familiar stinging in his chest, and he hates that, after all this time, it’s still there. He only managed to get over Johnny after school because he never saw him again, and Johnny became a sometimes-memory of the only person Bill ever felt genuinely attracted to. The fleeting, passing fancies he’s had since then have never got so deep under his skin, and never lasted so long.

“Pat said he saw you yesterday.”

“Great.”

He hadn’t meant to mutter that, but the filter between Bill’s thoughts and speech usually fucks off when he’s in a sour mood. It never improves matters, but Bill is beyond caring.

“Did you want something?” he bites out. The sooner Johnny comes out with it, the sooner Bill can retreat back upstairs and deal with the horrible nest sensations swirling inside of him.

“I wanted to see you.”

Bill snorts at that. “Well, now you’ve seen me.”

He leans against the door, wanting to shut it, just as Johnny climbs the step. “Bill…”

He’s reaching out, not to touch or anything, but… Bill’s attention falls to that hand for a moment, and then he looks back up at Johnny, hating that he now knows those blue eyes are as heartbreakingly beautiful as ever.

“What happened?”

“What happened?” Bill echoes, not understanding the question.

“I thought you might… want to see me?”

“No?” is Bill’s immediate response. “Why in the world would I want that?”

He can see how much his words hurt. The hurt little part inside himself is pleased, but the rest of him feels awful. Johnny actually looks upset, his eyes going wide as his expression falls. Regret comes hard on the heels of his own words, and makes Bill feel even worse. Why won’t this day just end? Why did he have to see Pat, and indulge him, admitting to things Bill never wanted to tell anyone else?

“Pat said…”

In his horror, Bill doesn’t know if he should slam the door, or scream. He freezes, his eyes starting to sting as he tries to defend himself. “That was years ago!”

He realises he’s breathing hard. It hurts. Why did Pat have to go and say anything? Why did he repeat what Bill told him?

Johnny leans forwards so subtly he probably doesn’t even realise he’s doing it, but Bill does, and he wants to run.

“I wish I’d known,” Johnny says.

Bill scoffs at that. He knows he’s being ugly, but he doesn’t know how else to be. He feels like a raw, exposed nerve, and needs it to end. “What, so you could laugh at me?”

Johnny pulls back. “What? No, of course not!”

When Johnny shifts his weight again, his shoulders soften, his expression gentle.

“I liked you too.”

Oh.

Oh fuck. No. This isn’t happening. It’s not.

Bill takes a step back, laughing harshly. His mind tells him that Johnny is being serious, but he can’t understand why the world has to be so cruel. He could have lived the rest of his life without ever knowing that. Now, if his thoughts drift back to that time, they’re going to be forever changed by the painful ‘what if?’, instead of the old, familiar knowledge that no one as handsome and perfect as Johnny would ever want Bill. No one ever wants Bill, which is just fine, really, in spite of the deep, aching loneliness at the core of him, because Bill has never wanted anyone anyway.

Well, apart from Johnny.

He lets out a breath, the laughter gone as quickly as it came. He doesn’t know what to say. Johnny is still standing there, gazing up at him, not leaving. Bill wonders what it would take to get him to go.

He wonders, and does nothing. It’s Johnny who leads, now. “Honestly?” Johnny continues plainly. “I still think about you sometimes. You are my ‘what if?’, you know?”

Bill does know, although he doesn’t know why he’s that to Johnny.

“So if you want to hang out, catch up, get a coffee…” Johnny trails off for a moment. “I would like that.”

Unclenching his jaw, BIll tries to get his tongue to work. He’s not sure he can trust this. It’s too good to be true. “Is that why you came here?”

“Yes,” Johnny breathes. “A few years late, I know.” There’s a weak little smile, something… shy. Vulnerable. Cute.

Bill swallows, not sure where he stands. He doesn’t feel better, but at least the swirling, angry irritation has shifted into something quieter. “Aren’t you and Pat…?”

Johnny shakes his head. “No. We are just good friends.”

“Oh.”

At least Bill hadn’t admitted how he felt about Johnny to Johnny’s boyfriend.

“He knows how much I like you,” Johnny continues. “I mean, he only found out after you two…”

Yeah, Bill would really rather not remember that disaster.

“Is that really why it didn’t work out?”

Bill isn't able to answer that. It's too raw, too personal and private. He’d carelessly admitted to Pat yesterday that when they’d had their silly little thing he’d liked someone else, and couldn’t get over them. His guard had been down. He’d admitted that it was Johnny when Pat asked, knowing even as the confession escaped him that he was going to regret it. Pat had gone still for a moment, and then chuckled a ‘Cooper? Damn’ before moving on.

He wonders if Pat also told Johnny that he’s still single.

“Well, anyway,” Johnny breathes, his tone shifting to something breezy. He seems dismissive, brushing away what he’s just asked. “If you want to, as friends or whatever, I would like that. I can give you my number?”

“My phone’s upstairs.”

“I can give you a missed call, and you can message me back.” As he speaks, Johnny gets out his phone and, feeling somewhat trapped and unsure how to get out of this, Bill automatically rattles off his number.

It’s only when Johnny repeats it back to him, and gives the call a few seconds to connect, that Bill realises he could have given the wrong number, and Johnny would never know.

“What sort of place would you like to go?” Johnny asks.

Embarrassed by his answer, Bill gives the only one he can: “The arcade.”

Johnny’s face lights up. “By the beach?”

Bill nods. “Yeah.”

“I haven’t had a chance to go yet.” His smile is distracting. “What about this evening?”

Bill doesn’t really feel like adding to today’s disaster, but the temptation of getting it over and done with, and not having anything up in the air, is stronger. “Okay.”

“It’s a date!” Johnny grins.

Bill flinches at that, not ready for it. “I don’t know you,” he points out.

Johnny’s expression falls, suddenly seeming sad. There’s something gentle about that look, though, making Bill want to reach out and do something to make it go away, because it feels like he could do something to make it go away. He is the cause of it, after all.

“You don’t have to know me,” Johnny says softly. “Wanting to get to know me is enough.”

“Oh.”

There’s a twitch of a smile, something very open and unguarded about Johnny, and in that moment Bill feels like no time has passed at all since that last day of school. Only, this time, he has a chance, and not just a cheery ‘good luck!’ that had felt false. Johnny had wished everyone luck—they still had exams, after all—and given everyone a hug. Well, everyone apart from Bill, who had curled his shoulders forward and wrapped his arms around himself, trying to keep his head down and survive without any unwanted touch. It had been a wretched day, and gladly forgotten once he was free of school walls.

Bill looks at Johnny, and forgets everything else. “Aye, okay,” he decides, and watches as Johnny smiles again, his whole face lighting up. It’s strange to know that he’s caused that.

“Text me the time, okay? And where to meet.”

He starts to nod, and then goes still. “Wait here.”

“Okay?”

Bill doesn’t hang around to explain. He turns, letting the door fall shut behind him as he darts back up the stairs. It’s suddenly urgent to check his phone, and he makes it through his front door to find his phone where he left it in the kitchen. There’s a missed call. With a sigh of relief, he bounds back down the stairs.

Johnny is still standing there, a step back. Bill joins him in the street, letting the door shut behind him. He hadn’t realised how chilly the air was. Lifting his phone, he shows the screen. “This you?”

Johnny peers at the number, leaning in close enough that Bill catches the scent of his deodorant. “Yes.”

Nodding, Bill pulls his phone back, and saves Johnny’s number properly. “See you later?” he wonders.

“Definitely,” Johnny smiles, and it’s then that Bill realises he has about an inch or two on Johnny, now that he stands up tall instead of curling in on himself. It makes Johnny feel different to him, new, while at the same time still the same person Bill fell for. It’s both dangerous and reassuring to know that Bill could easily fall for him again.

There’s nothing more to say. Bill lets out a breath, an agreement reached, and the unknown before him. At least he won’t have to wait long. He gives an awkward wave as Johnny takes a step back, and tries not to watch him go while he works his key into the lock. He doesn’t have a fucking clue how it’ll go this evening, but it feels so much better watching Johnny walk away knowing that it’s not forever this time. Well, not that it was forever last time, but Bill didn’t know that.

Safely back in his flat, Bill realises that the turmoil of earlier is gone. Another kind of turmoil has replaced it, but it’s not as distressing, nor as fraying. He’s excited, he realises, although has no idea how he’s going to apologise to Johnny for being so abrupt earlier.

Trying not to think about it, Bill sends Johnny a text telling him to meet Bill at the arcade at six. It closes at eight today, instead of ten. Two hours isn’t too long if it goes badly, but if it goes well they’ll still have time afterwards, maybe even to walk along the beach. Bill would like that.

With that in mind, he goes into the hallway and sets his army surplus boots in front of the door, hopeful they’ll be the right choice.

Some time close to eleven, he’s kicking them off again, and smiling absentmindedly to himself. They were a good choice.

War is Helloween