[ it was an out. suggesting that marcus helping billy out would also help himself out was a - precaution, just in case marcus was actually joking, just in case billy took it too far. an easy blanket of no homo without saying as much. billy doesn't think marcus would be so cruel to turn the open answer back on him, but the fear is still there. his ribs are still a little bit bruised, a little bit sore from where his father kicked him over and over before marcus had been able to intervene.
what are you? his boyfriend?
marcus says he doesn't care, though - about what? about himself, about the quota? billy still doesn't turn to look at marcus, but he can see him leaning a little, trying to catch his eyes, and he - doesn't really know how he feels, suddenly. confused, maybe. unsure, worried, maybe, that if they did screw around or, or - whatever, that it'd fuck up their friendship, because —
well, billy doesn't really care about his quota, either, not in the sense that he'd use marcus just to meet it. he cares, obviously, because he doesn't want to go to fucking sex jail for failing to get off three measly times in the span of a month, but like marcus, he's not really interested in being used, or using people to get by month after month, for however long lin decides to keep them here.
it's all - confusing. more complicated than billy wants any of this to be, but what the fuck is he supposed to do? what does he say here that won't screw shit up? billy breathes out, half listening to marcus, half trying to talk shit through in his head. he raises one of his hands, ruffles his hair from the back to the front and then back again before letting his hand fall into his lap. he's still leaning back on his other one. fuck it. ]
Alright. [ that's it, that's all he says for a handful of seconds, staring out across the abandoned playground. he kicks his feet a couple times, pushes himself to keep talking, even if he doesn't have much to say. ] Okay. Yeah.
[ finally, he turns his head to look at marcus, his expression mostly neutral, maybe leaning towards something more serious if you look close enough. he wets his lips, bites on the inside of his cheek for a second, and then nods his head very slightly, just once. ]
Me too. [ he doesn't care, he doesn't want to be used if he can avoid it, he doesn't want to feel like he's using somebody else just to keep his ass out of jail - all of it, everything marcus said, he agrees with, he just doesn't know how to say as much.
billy pushes his weight off of his hands, wipes his palms on the front of his pants to brush any bits of gravel or flakey metal out of his skin, lets his hands sit on his knees. ] C'mon.
[ and then he hops down, landing with a small grunt and stumbling a step, and he grabs his board and looks up. ]
no subject
what are you? his boyfriend?
marcus says he doesn't care, though - about what? about himself, about the quota? billy still doesn't turn to look at marcus, but he can see him leaning a little, trying to catch his eyes, and he - doesn't really know how he feels, suddenly. confused, maybe. unsure, worried, maybe, that if they did screw around or, or - whatever, that it'd fuck up their friendship, because —
well, billy doesn't really care about his quota, either, not in the sense that he'd use marcus just to meet it. he cares, obviously, because he doesn't want to go to fucking sex jail for failing to get off three measly times in the span of a month, but like marcus, he's not really interested in being used, or using people to get by month after month, for however long lin decides to keep them here.
it's all - confusing. more complicated than billy wants any of this to be, but what the fuck is he supposed to do? what does he say here that won't screw shit up? billy breathes out, half listening to marcus, half trying to talk shit through in his head. he raises one of his hands, ruffles his hair from the back to the front and then back again before letting his hand fall into his lap. he's still leaning back on his other one. fuck it. ]
Alright. [ that's it, that's all he says for a handful of seconds, staring out across the abandoned playground. he kicks his feet a couple times, pushes himself to keep talking, even if he doesn't have much to say. ] Okay. Yeah.
[ finally, he turns his head to look at marcus, his expression mostly neutral, maybe leaning towards something more serious if you look close enough. he wets his lips, bites on the inside of his cheek for a second, and then nods his head very slightly, just once. ]
Me too. [ he doesn't care, he doesn't want to be used if he can avoid it, he doesn't want to feel like he's using somebody else just to keep his ass out of jail - all of it, everything marcus said, he agrees with, he just doesn't know how to say as much.
billy pushes his weight off of his hands, wipes his palms on the front of his pants to brush any bits of gravel or flakey metal out of his skin, lets his hands sit on his knees. ] C'mon.
[ and then he hops down, landing with a small grunt and stumbling a step, and he grabs his board and looks up. ]