[ as much as billy trusts marcus, as much as he would literally lay down and die for the guy if push came to shove - billy doesn't actually want to do, so it's with some relief that he sighs, reassured that their friendship is a bond stronger than anything lin could attempt to throw at it. billy is not a killer, not by any means, not with any amount of training or conditioning or abuse to push him towards it, but he'd like to think that he'd kill for marcus. at the very least, take a bullet for him, if it meant protecting him. he's taken countless blows from his father to protect his mother, his brother - there's no way he wouldn't do the same for marcus.
billy doesn't sit up when marcus does, but he does kind of miss the weight on his chest. he slides his own hand down a little, from just below his collar bones down to his ribs, trying to replace the missing weight and the warmth without realizing he's doing it. ninety percent of the time when people put their hands on him, it's with violent intent, so the gentler touches always leave him feeling kind of starved once they're gone.
marcus tells him he loves him. marcus says he loves him and billy doesn't really have any reaction to it at first - and then he thinks of vegas, before everything got fucking crazy, and he thinks about what he said to marcus. life is about who you love, and what you do for them - and it seems pretty obvious, now. after everything. billy kind of wants to laugh about it now, but he still feels guilty, too. he still feels like he fucked up, asking marcus to come with him to kill his dad. he still feels like a coward.
he doesn't laugh, but he manages something close to it, huffing a quick breath out through his nose, managing a small, lopsided smile. he takes his hand off his chest, lets his elbow hit the platform, lets his arm flop in marcus direction until his knuckles thump lazily somewhere against his body, whatever's in reach. when he speaks, there's mild amusement in his tone, a subtle thread of affection, loyalty. ]
Huh-uh. [ no, it's not weird. ] C'mon, man - I love you, too. [ billy lets his hand fall away after letting it linger for maybe a second or two too long, brings it back to his own chest. he curls the fingers of his other hand around the back of his own neck, turns his head finally to look up at marcus, and there's a teasing, almost obnoxious smirk starting to pull at the corners of his mouth. he's fucking around, because that's what he does. ] You wanna make out?
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billy doesn't sit up when marcus does, but he does kind of miss the weight on his chest. he slides his own hand down a little, from just below his collar bones down to his ribs, trying to replace the missing weight and the warmth without realizing he's doing it. ninety percent of the time when people put their hands on him, it's with violent intent, so the gentler touches always leave him feeling kind of starved once they're gone.
marcus tells him he loves him. marcus says he loves him and billy doesn't really have any reaction to it at first - and then he thinks of vegas, before everything got fucking crazy, and he thinks about what he said to marcus. life is about who you love, and what you do for them - and it seems pretty obvious, now. after everything. billy kind of wants to laugh about it now, but he still feels guilty, too. he still feels like he fucked up, asking marcus to come with him to kill his dad. he still feels like a coward.
he doesn't laugh, but he manages something close to it, huffing a quick breath out through his nose, managing a small, lopsided smile. he takes his hand off his chest, lets his elbow hit the platform, lets his arm flop in marcus direction until his knuckles thump lazily somewhere against his body, whatever's in reach. when he speaks, there's mild amusement in his tone, a subtle thread of affection, loyalty. ]
Huh-uh. [ no, it's not weird. ] C'mon, man - I love you, too. [ billy lets his hand fall away after letting it linger for maybe a second or two too long, brings it back to his own chest. he curls the fingers of his other hand around the back of his own neck, turns his head finally to look up at marcus, and there's a teasing, almost obnoxious smirk starting to pull at the corners of his mouth. he's fucking around, because that's what he does. ] You wanna make out?