Traumatic
Fandom: Original (Alchemist Club)
Characters: Shaun Percival (17), Billy Brock (15)
Genre: Angst, H/C, dark comedy…ish.
Warnings: Descriptions of abuse, sexual abuse, violence, and murder.
A/N: While a war is brewing, Shaun and Billy Brock take a breather to discuss the important matters of love, friendship, and murderating people.
This'll make no freaking sense to anybody but me, but I love messing around with these characters. Tomao is Billy's lover/master/dom and they have a consensual relationship, although they are both pretty fucknuts so it's sometimes hard to tell. Oh, and Tomao is 17, so it's not a pederastic relationship. Thought I'd point that out. They're also hired guns; and Shaun is Shaun.
I really like how this one turned out, actually.
War, children, it's just a shot away.
The Rolling Stones, Gimme Shelter.
"Yo." Billy Brock was cheerfully bopping down the street next to him like a happy pufferfish in clown make-up. "Your friends, right? You ready to die for them?"
They'd been sent on a food run. Billy was casually wearing his rifle across his shoulder like it was an umbrella. To Shaun, it was a mystery how someone who habitually slept under bridges like a smelly cat, and was literally incapable of grasping concepts like personal hygiene or having a bank account could be this good at - how did they call it - dropping people with that thing. As if he was a savant at blowing people's heads off or something.
Shaun knew how good he was, because he'd seen him do it. The screams of his friends were still ringing in his ears; at least of those who'd had time to scream.
But that was the past. They were on the same team now, because that was how things went sometimes.
Shaun didn't know what to say, until he decided that the truth was the only way to go. "I don't wanna die at all," he mumbled sulkily. "So. I guess the answer's no."
Billy scrunched up his puffy little face at that, all skeptical. "They're your friends though, right?"
"Um. Sure."
Shaun had been given an 8 mm, which he was awkwardly holding away from his body because he was too horrified to stick it in his pants. And he already knew that, if action occurred, he'd immediately throw it away and drop and roll into the next ditch. Which practically answered Billy's next question before he asked.
"You're going to kill for them, though, right?"
"No…"
It was midday, the sun was scorching hot and the air was bone-dry. The streets of Murdertown were nearly deserted. There were more stray dogs around, tongues lapping, than people. Some old folks were sitting in front of their little stores, wrinkled and tiny. But it was the calm before the storm. Once it got dark, the Factions would descend on the city like locusts and tear it apart. And they would be there, right in the mix.
Shaun, however, was determined to ignore that as long as he had the chance, and Tomao's little sniper whore was seriously cramping his style. He tried to sound as if he wasn't on edge, even though he was 100% teetering on the edge now.
"I don't wanna die, Billy," he snapped, "And I don't want to kill anyone, so if I have a choice, I'd rather do neither! That's not what friendship is. Y'know, friendship doesn't have to involve either murdering or getting murdered!"
To his surprise, Billy grinned at that. "Aw," he made, as if Shaun had said something adorable. "You Greenhill boys really are different, arent'cha."
Shaun shrugged. That much was true.
Didn't make him a coward.
Did not.
They walked in silence for a while. Shaun observed Billy, still skipping down the street next to him as if he was going to Disneyland, not war. Not that Billy knew what Disneyland was, or had any chance to ever get there.
"He wouldn't do it for you, you know," Shaun said quietly after a while.
"Who'd do what?" Billy had picked up a stick and was distractedly beating the nearby bushes with it, like he was ten, not fifteen.
Shaun rolled his eyes again. "Your boyfriend. Tomao."
He knew it wasn't the right word to use; he knew 'master' would have been a better pick to describe that horror show relationship.
"He ain't my boyfriend," Billy said promptly. But he'd become less chipper. He tossed away the stick and wiped his hands on his filthy shirt. "And why d'you say that?"
Shaun winced. "Because it's true. He's a …"
Sociopath
"…a stone cold prick."
A chill went down Shaun's spine, as if Tomao could kill him by proxy, like a ghost, simply because he'd said that.
Billy snickered. "That he is," he admitted. He sounded proud.
"Then you gotta know all he cares about is himself. Okay, maybe he likes you a little, right now. But if it came down to you or him … what do you think he'd do?"
The boy became very serious. "You don't get it," he said solemnly. "If it was either me or him, I'd want it to be me."
Shaun stopped walking and glared at him. "Don't say that! How can you say that?!"
"You don't get it," Billy repeated. Then he turned around and seized Shaun up with his large, horribly painted eyes. "You wanna hear a story I never told anyone before?"
That didn't sound so good. "…sure."
Billy nodded, abruptly turned around again and kept walking, but the spring in his step was gone. "Tomao's father," he said, "was crazy."
Shocker. "I am so not surprised by that," Shaun muttered.
"He used to do things to him. Bad things."
Shaun said nothing, trying very hard to reign in his imagination. He knew, for Billy to call something bad, it had to be bad.
"They locked him away, though, when he beat Tomao's mother until she was dead," Billy went on. "He was gone for a long time. But last spring, he came out. He went looking for his son. We had a place near the Boardwalk back then, like, a real place. His father found it. Tomao wasn't there when he did, though." He paused. "But I was."
Shaun felt bile creep up his throat and wondered if it was too late to get out of this anecdote.
"So, he knocks me out with an empty vodka bottle, and he chains me to the radiator," Billy said. His voice had an impersonal quality, like he was experiencing it all from a place far, far away. "Asks me where his son is. Asks me again and again but I don't tell him. He doesn't give me food. Doesn't give me water. He uses me as an ashtray. He uses me as a toilet. And he - "
He fell silent.
"He raped you." The words were out before Shaun could do something about it. Fuck. Maybe Billy would have never started talking again if he hadn't prompted him.
"Uh. Yeah." Billy seemed weirded out by the word, maybe because so many things that happened to him on a regular basis were non-consensual. But he seemed grateful that he didn't have to explain it.
"Yeah, that. I think we're there like, one day and a half, maybe. Then, Tomao comes home. And he fights him. You gotta understand that Tomao's not afraid of anybody, except his father. But he fights him. His father, though … well, you gotta imagine Tomao, but taller and stronger and meaner. And crazier. And that's his father. So he drags Tomao off, into the bedroom … and he does it with him, too. They're in there for like, hours. At night, his father comes out of the bedroom; says he's going out, but he'll come back. He's gone, and then there's Tomao crawling over to me. 'cause his dad didn't tie him up, 'cause his dad's an idiot. He ties me loose, and kisses me on my forehead, says I should get cleaned and fed and not worry, he's gonna go take care of it. Then he's gone too, and I don't see him for days. I keep thinking he's dead."
Shaun looked up from his feet long enough to see Billy's eyes fill up with tears. He himself felt completely paralyzed; whatever this story was, he had no response to it. And the worst part was, the boy didn't seem finished.
Billy cleared his throat, swallowing some tears in the process. "Maybe three days later, he comes to me. Tomao," he continued, and there was emotion seeping back into his voice. Something warm. "And he has two things with him, his father's head, and his father's cock. And uh, his balls. Maybe that's three things; I'm not sure. But he brings them to me. Says it's for me, as much as it is for him. And that we don't have to be afraid anymore. We burn 'em in the furnace together. He still has the skull though. It's an ashtray now. He never told me what he did with the rest; but I don't care."
He stopped walking to turn and look at Shaun, and for the first time, Shaun didn't find his eye make-up that snickerworthy; the runny mascara, coupled with his words, made him look deranged. Ghoulish.
Maddie's alone with him, was all that Shaun could think. Tomao. She's alone with him right now.
"So." Billy said. "And that's how I know. I don't sit around wondering if Tomao'd kill for me because I already know. And … whoever wants to kill him, they will have to kill me first. You understand now? You gotta."
He stared at Shaun as if he was expecting something. An answer. A reaction. But Shaun had nothing. What was he supposed to say? How was he supposed to say anything ever again?
So in the end, it was the first thing plopping out of his mouth.
"Dude," he said. "What the fuck."
It felt freeing to say that, so he re-iterated: "What in the ever-loving fucking fuck? Why did you tell me that? That's not a beautiful story about friendship! That was - what was that?!"
Billy blinked. "Sorry?"
"No! You … you can't spring shit like that on me and say sorry, okay?"
"Okay."
"I'm … I'm never gonna be able to scrub that off my brain! That was fucking traumatizing!"
"Sorry." Billy sounded sincere. Then, he tilted his head, and curiously asked: "What's 'traumatizing'?"
"It's -"
Shaun was unable to find the right words.
Everything you told me just now
Your life
You
Eventually, he let out a desperate groan. "Forget it," he said. "Let's just go get those groceries, all right?"
"Sure thing!" Billy pointed at the seven eleven down the street. "We're almost there."
They went, and they bought cup noodles, coffee, sodas, and pretzels for everyone. Billy bought some gum. He asked Shaun if he liked grape or pomegranate, but Shaun couldn't be brought to care about that question right now. So Billy got both.
"Hey," Shaun said briskly, while they were packing. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry that happened to you."
"Uh-huh," Billy replied. Then, he looked up to the taller boy, and made that very serious face again. "You're gonna have to decide, you know," he told him sternly. "This is Murdertown. It'll be kill or be killed, so you're gonna have to figure out which one you want less. And - "
He smirked up at him. "I think I know which one it'll be. Because I can tell you really really like being alive, don’t'cha."
Characters: Shaun Percival (17), Billy Brock (15)
Genre: Angst, H/C, dark comedy…ish.
Warnings: Descriptions of abuse, sexual abuse, violence, and murder.
A/N: While a war is brewing, Shaun and Billy Brock take a breather to discuss the important matters of love, friendship, and murderating people.
This'll make no freaking sense to anybody but me, but I love messing around with these characters. Tomao is Billy's lover/master/dom and they have a consensual relationship, although they are both pretty fucknuts so it's sometimes hard to tell. Oh, and Tomao is 17, so it's not a pederastic relationship. Thought I'd point that out. They're also hired guns; and Shaun is Shaun.
I really like how this one turned out, actually.
War, children, it's just a shot away.
The Rolling Stones, Gimme Shelter.
"Yo." Billy Brock was cheerfully bopping down the street next to him like a happy pufferfish in clown make-up. "Your friends, right? You ready to die for them?"
They'd been sent on a food run. Billy was casually wearing his rifle across his shoulder like it was an umbrella. To Shaun, it was a mystery how someone who habitually slept under bridges like a smelly cat, and was literally incapable of grasping concepts like personal hygiene or having a bank account could be this good at - how did they call it - dropping people with that thing. As if he was a savant at blowing people's heads off or something.
Shaun knew how good he was, because he'd seen him do it. The screams of his friends were still ringing in his ears; at least of those who'd had time to scream.
But that was the past. They were on the same team now, because that was how things went sometimes.
Shaun didn't know what to say, until he decided that the truth was the only way to go. "I don't wanna die at all," he mumbled sulkily. "So. I guess the answer's no."
Billy scrunched up his puffy little face at that, all skeptical. "They're your friends though, right?"
"Um. Sure."
Shaun had been given an 8 mm, which he was awkwardly holding away from his body because he was too horrified to stick it in his pants. And he already knew that, if action occurred, he'd immediately throw it away and drop and roll into the next ditch. Which practically answered Billy's next question before he asked.
"You're going to kill for them, though, right?"
"No…"
It was midday, the sun was scorching hot and the air was bone-dry. The streets of Murdertown were nearly deserted. There were more stray dogs around, tongues lapping, than people. Some old folks were sitting in front of their little stores, wrinkled and tiny. But it was the calm before the storm. Once it got dark, the Factions would descend on the city like locusts and tear it apart. And they would be there, right in the mix.
Shaun, however, was determined to ignore that as long as he had the chance, and Tomao's little sniper whore was seriously cramping his style. He tried to sound as if he wasn't on edge, even though he was 100% teetering on the edge now.
"I don't wanna die, Billy," he snapped, "And I don't want to kill anyone, so if I have a choice, I'd rather do neither! That's not what friendship is. Y'know, friendship doesn't have to involve either murdering or getting murdered!"
To his surprise, Billy grinned at that. "Aw," he made, as if Shaun had said something adorable. "You Greenhill boys really are different, arent'cha."
Shaun shrugged. That much was true.
Didn't make him a coward.
Did not.
They walked in silence for a while. Shaun observed Billy, still skipping down the street next to him as if he was going to Disneyland, not war. Not that Billy knew what Disneyland was, or had any chance to ever get there.
"He wouldn't do it for you, you know," Shaun said quietly after a while.
"Who'd do what?" Billy had picked up a stick and was distractedly beating the nearby bushes with it, like he was ten, not fifteen.
Shaun rolled his eyes again. "Your boyfriend. Tomao."
He knew it wasn't the right word to use; he knew 'master' would have been a better pick to describe that horror show relationship.
"He ain't my boyfriend," Billy said promptly. But he'd become less chipper. He tossed away the stick and wiped his hands on his filthy shirt. "And why d'you say that?"
Shaun winced. "Because it's true. He's a …"
Sociopath
"…a stone cold prick."
A chill went down Shaun's spine, as if Tomao could kill him by proxy, like a ghost, simply because he'd said that.
Billy snickered. "That he is," he admitted. He sounded proud.
"Then you gotta know all he cares about is himself. Okay, maybe he likes you a little, right now. But if it came down to you or him … what do you think he'd do?"
The boy became very serious. "You don't get it," he said solemnly. "If it was either me or him, I'd want it to be me."
Shaun stopped walking and glared at him. "Don't say that! How can you say that?!"
"You don't get it," Billy repeated. Then he turned around and seized Shaun up with his large, horribly painted eyes. "You wanna hear a story I never told anyone before?"
That didn't sound so good. "…sure."
Billy nodded, abruptly turned around again and kept walking, but the spring in his step was gone. "Tomao's father," he said, "was crazy."
Shocker. "I am so not surprised by that," Shaun muttered.
"He used to do things to him. Bad things."
Shaun said nothing, trying very hard to reign in his imagination. He knew, for Billy to call something bad, it had to be bad.
"They locked him away, though, when he beat Tomao's mother until she was dead," Billy went on. "He was gone for a long time. But last spring, he came out. He went looking for his son. We had a place near the Boardwalk back then, like, a real place. His father found it. Tomao wasn't there when he did, though." He paused. "But I was."
Shaun felt bile creep up his throat and wondered if it was too late to get out of this anecdote.
"So, he knocks me out with an empty vodka bottle, and he chains me to the radiator," Billy said. His voice had an impersonal quality, like he was experiencing it all from a place far, far away. "Asks me where his son is. Asks me again and again but I don't tell him. He doesn't give me food. Doesn't give me water. He uses me as an ashtray. He uses me as a toilet. And he - "
He fell silent.
"He raped you." The words were out before Shaun could do something about it. Fuck. Maybe Billy would have never started talking again if he hadn't prompted him.
"Uh. Yeah." Billy seemed weirded out by the word, maybe because so many things that happened to him on a regular basis were non-consensual. But he seemed grateful that he didn't have to explain it.
"Yeah, that. I think we're there like, one day and a half, maybe. Then, Tomao comes home. And he fights him. You gotta understand that Tomao's not afraid of anybody, except his father. But he fights him. His father, though … well, you gotta imagine Tomao, but taller and stronger and meaner. And crazier. And that's his father. So he drags Tomao off, into the bedroom … and he does it with him, too. They're in there for like, hours. At night, his father comes out of the bedroom; says he's going out, but he'll come back. He's gone, and then there's Tomao crawling over to me. 'cause his dad didn't tie him up, 'cause his dad's an idiot. He ties me loose, and kisses me on my forehead, says I should get cleaned and fed and not worry, he's gonna go take care of it. Then he's gone too, and I don't see him for days. I keep thinking he's dead."
Shaun looked up from his feet long enough to see Billy's eyes fill up with tears. He himself felt completely paralyzed; whatever this story was, he had no response to it. And the worst part was, the boy didn't seem finished.
Billy cleared his throat, swallowing some tears in the process. "Maybe three days later, he comes to me. Tomao," he continued, and there was emotion seeping back into his voice. Something warm. "And he has two things with him, his father's head, and his father's cock. And uh, his balls. Maybe that's three things; I'm not sure. But he brings them to me. Says it's for me, as much as it is for him. And that we don't have to be afraid anymore. We burn 'em in the furnace together. He still has the skull though. It's an ashtray now. He never told me what he did with the rest; but I don't care."
He stopped walking to turn and look at Shaun, and for the first time, Shaun didn't find his eye make-up that snickerworthy; the runny mascara, coupled with his words, made him look deranged. Ghoulish.
Maddie's alone with him, was all that Shaun could think. Tomao. She's alone with him right now.
"So." Billy said. "And that's how I know. I don't sit around wondering if Tomao'd kill for me because I already know. And … whoever wants to kill him, they will have to kill me first. You understand now? You gotta."
He stared at Shaun as if he was expecting something. An answer. A reaction. But Shaun had nothing. What was he supposed to say? How was he supposed to say anything ever again?
So in the end, it was the first thing plopping out of his mouth.
"Dude," he said. "What the fuck."
It felt freeing to say that, so he re-iterated: "What in the ever-loving fucking fuck? Why did you tell me that? That's not a beautiful story about friendship! That was - what was that?!"
Billy blinked. "Sorry?"
"No! You … you can't spring shit like that on me and say sorry, okay?"
"Okay."
"I'm … I'm never gonna be able to scrub that off my brain! That was fucking traumatizing!"
"Sorry." Billy sounded sincere. Then, he tilted his head, and curiously asked: "What's 'traumatizing'?"
"It's -"
Shaun was unable to find the right words.
Everything you told me just now
Your life
You
Eventually, he let out a desperate groan. "Forget it," he said. "Let's just go get those groceries, all right?"
"Sure thing!" Billy pointed at the seven eleven down the street. "We're almost there."
They went, and they bought cup noodles, coffee, sodas, and pretzels for everyone. Billy bought some gum. He asked Shaun if he liked grape or pomegranate, but Shaun couldn't be brought to care about that question right now. So Billy got both.
"Hey," Shaun said briskly, while they were packing. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry that happened to you."
"Uh-huh," Billy replied. Then, he looked up to the taller boy, and made that very serious face again. "You're gonna have to decide, you know," he told him sternly. "This is Murdertown. It'll be kill or be killed, so you're gonna have to figure out which one you want less. And - "
He smirked up at him. "I think I know which one it'll be. Because I can tell you really really like being alive, don’t'cha."