Willy had come by regularly but every time he was greeted by a locked door and a lackluster dismissal through the solid wood. He'd gone, unsure of what to do about his mortal sweet. A large part of his nature pulled at him to cut the boy loose. He was Willy Silver, he did not need to chase down a wounded soul. There were plenty of beauties to be had. But Bobby was not simply a beauty to be enjoyed. Willy was confused by his feelings but the fact remained that there were feelings there.
Tonight he didn't knock. He was done pleading for entrance. Tonight he had stopped by the management office and had charmed the spare key to Bobby's apartment from the chubby middle aged woman who would most certainly take her desire home to her weary husband and create a memorable night.
Willy slipped the ill-gotten key into the lock and walked in. He said nothing but he didn't need to. His heavy boots thudded on the floor and the zippers and buckles of his motorcycle jacket jingled as he moved, announcing his presence.
Bobby hadn't heard the key in the lock thanks to the volume of the TV, but when the door closed behind him and he heard footsteps approaching he went rigid, turning with his hands held in front of him in a defensive pose, frost already forming on his fingers. He saw who it was and curled his hands into fists just before unleashing an icy blast at the intruder. "Fuck!" He sank back against the couch, heart pounding with the adrenaline rush that had flooded him and scrubbed a frosty hand through his unkempt curls. "Don't do that," he muttered, tucking his legs up against his chest as he watched Willy over the back of the couch, expression wary.
"Don't do that? What would you have me do, sweet? Continue the futile effort of knocking on your door? No...no, you had to be aware that eventually I would make use of your open invitation. And now here I am."
He looked around and sniffed the air.
"This is deplorable. You cannot continue to live like this."
"Don't just...barge in." But it was done, so there was no point in continuing the conversation.
He glanced around the room and shook his head. "It's not that bad." He turned his gaze back to the TV, though he wasn't really watching it anymore. He just couldn't face Willy, not after what he'd done--to the faerie, to innocent strangers...he knew it hadn't been him, intellectually, but he'd still watched it, helpless to do anything, as his powers were used to hurt, to torture...to kill.
And that wasn't even going into just how much he now knew he could do.
"Bobby, sweet...you're a mess. You haven't left this place in weeks. It's time to begin the healing. You need to understand that none of what the fiend did was your fault. It wasn't your doing. Now get up and come with me," Willy said with a lordly command to his order.
Bobby knew he was right, he just wasn't sure he could begin healing. "You don't know what it was like," he said quietly, but he did pull the blanket off and get to his feet with a sigh.
"To be out of control of yourself? To have your power compelled from you at someone else's whim?" he replied, then chuckled in that deep, musical way he had where the amusement bubbled up and rolled out of him. "Oh, sweet, I was once a young and foolish fae. I've been captured in more than one faerie ring. It's awful. But it ends."
Bobby blinked, surprised that anyone had ever done that to Willy. "It's not just that, though," he explained, moving around to start collecting pizza boxes just so he would have something to do and wouldn't have to look Willy in the eye. "Back home...I helped people. Protected them. It was important to me." He swallowed, pausing with his back to Willy and murmured, "But I couldn't help any of them. I tried. It hurt people using my powers, and I couldn't stop it."
"Bobby, dear, I understand that," Willy said gently. "But hiding in your apartment surrounded by mold and dust isn't going to set anything right. Nor will it make you feel better to dwell on every sin again and again until the stain of it on your soul cannot be cleaned..."
"So what am I supposed to do?" Bobby asked angrily, turning to face him. "Just go back to my normal life, pretend none of it happened? I'm trying to deal with it." Of course, that wasn't exactly true. He was avoiding dealing with it and he knew it.
"You're trying to deal with it? How? Do you think you'll scare it away with a lack of deodorant? Or perhaps with enough pizza you'll drown the pain," Willy quipped.
"You need to get out of here, Bobby. Perhaps the first thing you should be doing is using your powers for good. To help. There is much power in making amends and though I doubt you can find those you harmed, you could, how do they say...pay it forward?"
Bobby rolled his eyes at Willy's comments, but said nothing. There was nothing he could say.
As soon as Willy mentioned his powers, though, he started shaking his head. "No. I can't do that. I mean...maybe I can help people, but not like that. Not with my powers." Aside from the purely instinctive defense when Willy had come in unannounced, in fact, he hadn't used them once since the demon had left his body. Not even to chill a drink.
"Are you going to deny yourself, Bobby? It is what you are. You may be far more powerful than you ever knew but...but it's who you are. I'm so sorry to be the one to tell you, sweet, but you're no mere accountant. You are destined for grander things," Willy said as he flopped himself down on Bobby's sofa.
"It doesn't have to be what I am." But he wasn't sure anymore. He'd tried to be normal, but that clearly wasn't working. Here he was, dating a faerie lord, still using his powers, even if it wasn't to save people, to be a hero. "I don't want this much power, I don't want to be able to do the things he made me do. But if I stop using it..." he shrugged, running his fingers through his hair.
"If you stop using it you'll be denying who you are. It's such a part of you, Bobby. You can't pretend it doesn't exist," Willy said calmly, then he thought for a moment. "What would your teacher friend from the school say about you trying to hide it all away as if it wasn't part of your very soul?"
Bobby shook his head. He couldn't think about Xavier right then, that would just open him up to a whole new set of issues to deal with. "I don't know. They're my powers, shouldn't I get to choose what I do with them? Or don't do?"
Tonight he didn't knock. He was done pleading for entrance. Tonight he had stopped by the management office and had charmed the spare key to Bobby's apartment from the chubby middle aged woman who would most certainly take her desire home to her weary husband and create a memorable night.
Willy slipped the ill-gotten key into the lock and walked in. He said nothing but he didn't need to. His heavy boots thudded on the floor and the zippers and buckles of his motorcycle jacket jingled as he moved, announcing his presence.
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He looked around and sniffed the air.
"This is deplorable. You cannot continue to live like this."
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He glanced around the room and shook his head. "It's not that bad." He turned his gaze back to the TV, though he wasn't really watching it anymore. He just couldn't face Willy, not after what he'd done--to the faerie, to innocent strangers...he knew it hadn't been him, intellectually, but he'd still watched it, helpless to do anything, as his powers were used to hurt, to torture...to kill.
And that wasn't even going into just how much he now knew he could do.
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"You need to get out of here, Bobby. Perhaps the first thing you should be doing is using your powers for good. To help. There is much power in making amends and though I doubt you can find those you harmed, you could, how do they say...pay it forward?"
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As soon as Willy mentioned his powers, though, he started shaking his head. "No. I can't do that. I mean...maybe I can help people, but not like that. Not with my powers." Aside from the purely instinctive defense when Willy had come in unannounced, in fact, he hadn't used them once since the demon had left his body. Not even to chill a drink.
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