Gator jerks his hand away from him like he's touched a hot stove, and Billy winces, expecting a backhand. Instead, he just gets a look like he's the one being irrational here. He's the one being unreasonable when he's the only one here who hasn't pointed a weapon at anybody. His stomach twists as he takes a half-step backward to let Gator pass, eyes wide as he takes in the sight of what happens next.
Billy's been in Quentin's place before, felt that same gun clacking against his teeth, tasted it on his tongue. But he didn't learn his lesson, kept playing with fire, and now? Now everybody's getting burned.
And it's sick, truly sick, how under all of that fear and dread, there's something jealous buried in him seeing Gator do this to Quentin. It's not fair, not fucking fair, how Gator can hold him on such a tight leash when it's not like he's his boyfriend but as soon as Gator wants someone else, he's supposed to just go with it. Billy knows full well that this isn't about that, this is about power, about punishment and humiliation, but the feeling lingers anyway.
"Put the gun down, Gator. Please." Billy swallows as he creeps closer, trying to keep his voice steady. "C'mon. I don't wanna fuck him, you don't wanna fuck him." There have been a few times, both of them strung out on the couch at sunrise, shooting the shit, where Billy thought about crossing that line. But he didn't. Don't shit where you eat - don't fuck your roommate. Duh. Right now, the idea just makes him feel nauseated, especially when Quentin speaks up - tell me he's fucking kidding, and Billy wishes he could.
"Will you leave him alone after this?" he asks, brows knitting together. "I'm talking fresh start, clean slate."
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Billy's been in Quentin's place before, felt that same gun clacking against his teeth, tasted it on his tongue. But he didn't learn his lesson, kept playing with fire, and now? Now everybody's getting burned.
And it's sick, truly sick, how under all of that fear and dread, there's something jealous buried in him seeing Gator do this to Quentin. It's not fair, not fucking fair, how Gator can hold him on such a tight leash when it's not like he's his boyfriend but as soon as Gator wants someone else, he's supposed to just go with it. Billy knows full well that this isn't about that, this is about power, about punishment and humiliation, but the feeling lingers anyway.
"Put the gun down, Gator. Please." Billy swallows as he creeps closer, trying to keep his voice steady. "C'mon. I don't wanna fuck him, you don't wanna fuck him." There have been a few times, both of them strung out on the couch at sunrise, shooting the shit, where Billy thought about crossing that line. But he didn't. Don't shit where you eat - don't fuck your roommate. Duh. Right now, the idea just makes him feel nauseated, especially when Quentin speaks up - tell me he's fucking kidding, and Billy wishes he could.
"Will you leave him alone after this?" he asks, brows knitting together. "I'm talking fresh start, clean slate."