#billie.

feeling destined to accomplish something is one thing, but actually succeeding at it it's another. how many people get to do what they were born to? how many people even get to know what that is? there is luck envolved, of course, but most of it comes from hard work and opportunity. not only billie was lucky but he also put in the effort and took every change he could get. it was not because he believed in himself, but because he should prove right the people who did.

to be here, in his own apartment with the person that he loved was already itself a chance of luck. to be privileged to be yourself, is probably the highest forms of gratifications one person can get. and wankyun makes him feel that. his family makes him feel that. his friends, his fans, everyone around him. if he can be special, if he can be good, happy or even anything ever is because he had that. he hand stretched his way made not only a path but forged the person he became, someone that he is proud to be.

regardless, the words wet his eyes in the same way they do whenever he thinks back to the little fragile boy he once was, the one who snuggled up to wankyun in the thin layer of the blanket during the night hoping for the warmth they barely had, grasping for the innocence still left in them, dreaming of hopeful days where they could be the people they believed in themselves to be. many turns later, billie cries whenever he thinks of the fact that they did indeed, despite the ups and lows, the turns and twists. it's another of one the thinks to not just be grateful about but to praise everyday. "thank you, i was lucky." he says honestly, pinching the bridge of his best friend's nose.

back then, was something he couldn't grasp and surviving it meant everything. now, when life finally fits, when breathing feels easier than it ever did. every version of himself that stumbled, doubted, endured and every one of them was meant to be seen and loved by wankyun. to have been here after all is its own kind of luck. to have been loved through becoming is something he treasures even more. if billie is here — if he is whole, and soft, and granted all this happiness — it's because wankyun is still here to and on the receiving end to have and be the same. not just the person both of them are now, but the boy they once were, the in-between versions that didn’t yet know they would make it.

“let me say this, though,” billie begins, eyes warm, steady. “you were always special, too.”

he was was always too precious to billie, above every single thing he put wankyun and most times to the disbelief of his friends. no one would ever get what made their connection so profound, but it was clear for him. it was always in the way they were able to see each other and love without conditions or a spectacle. wankyun became a part of him and taught him what love is by simply existing and being there. so when billie looks at him, he knows like nobody else do. if he himself became something good, something worth loving, it is because wankyun always was. because he saw him first. because he still does.

city nights ✨

    nerves were something that emmeline didn’t deal with well and they were obvious at this event. her attendance was for xavier, to show her appreciation and her thoughts about returning to her father, begging for him to take her back, was a lapse in judgement though she wasn’t sure if that was entirely the case. with little support around her, it was only natural for her to cling to billie, a woman that had shown her kindness even when she was far from deserving. she would keep her distance from th eother as she was trying not to impose but to an onlooker, it would remind them of a child attempting to stay close to their parent whilst wanting to prove they could be independent. eyes constantly shifting around the room, emmeline took a drink before looking at the older woman. “he did a great job.”

It was no secret Leon enjoyed his alone time. If he’d asked, someone from his house was surely eager to join him on a night out for a drink. However, his decisions were purposeful. He was alone, at some dingy dive bar around town, and he was content. With whatever flat-tasting beer was available on tap, Leon took over the pool table in the corner of the bar, bearing no issue with all its aged wood and fraying fabric. It was a relatively quiet night, contrasted against whatever comparator he had from the one other time he had been here.

He chalked up the tip of his cue stick, blowing any residue off before setting up the table and breaking for a solo game. Immediately after his first shot, he felt a long manicured hand on his back. When he turned, it wasn’t anyone he could recognise in the moment so he continued on with his game. You all alone tonight? He wasn’t in the mood for idle chit chat, but he was civil enough to respond with a quick “sure”. The woman then sat herself on the pool table, obstructing Leon from continuing his pastime. What’s say you buy me a drink and then we can get out of here? He sighed. “No thanks.” His resistance was met with persistence as the stranger inched closer to Leon. “I’m perfectly content with being left alone.”

For Billie’s sixth birthday, she was given two hours away from training to spend however she liked. She went outside, past the hill, past the line of trees bordering their property. 

A buzzard, disturbed by the crunch of her bare feet through the leaves and sticks carpeting the clay, took flight from a tree and seemed to disappear up into the sky. Whenever Billie lost sight of them, she wished her arms were long enough to reach up and grasp their long talons so they could carry her to heaven, to the peace up there in the empty sky. Even during thunderstorms, that sky seemed warm and gentle. 

She was still staring at the tiny patch of sky where she’s last seen the buzzard when a pine cone fell directly onto her toes. She’d taken off her shoes before she stepped through their back door. The cool crunch and scrape of the earth against her skin sent thrills through her. It was the only thing outside her sterile bedroom and training facilities she’d felt in months. Maybe even since her last birthday. 

A few seconds after the pine cone fell on her foot, a boy dropped down from the sky too. From the tree. From the sky. From somewhere Billie didn't;t look up quickly enough to see. He was on the ground faster than her eyes could track too, the knife strapped under her arm pressed tight to his throat.

Oh. 

“Hey, hey, woah, don’t-” The boy was babbling until she pulled the knife away. Then he started yelling. “What the fuck was that for? Fucking lunatic.” 

He rubbed his throat, feeling for some wound that wasn’t there. Billie couldn't;t really think of anything to say, so she didn't say. She kept her knife in her hand and her eyes on his shoulders. 

“Where the fuck did you come from?!” 

Billie pointed back past the treelike, over the hill. 

“The big house?”

She nodded. 

He scowled. “What, you can't talk or something?” 

Billie shrugged. 

“Okay ... okay.” The boy straightened up his shoulders and held out his hand to her. “I’m Malcolm.” 

Billie glanced down at his hand. He was older, maybe 10 or 11, but he was shorter than she was. His hair was a mess, his skin dingy from the dirt and dust of the forest. She’d had a knife to his throat a few seconds earlier, but he was still trying to shake her hand. She’s never touched anyone besides her parents before. Billie wondered if his skin would have the same thrilling novelty that the forest floor had under her bare feet.