This is not an Arby's.

He wasn't sure what made him more emotional. This confession that Frank was undeniably staying for Bill... or the added reiteration that this had become a very high stakes game they were playing. He chose to first focus on knowing Frank was being honest with his intentions. He'd seen the facts in the man's defense; he couldn't fucking lie. It was another fact about him that gave Bill fucking palpations worrying over how the hell he'd managed to survive on his own with his limited survival skills and lack of intellectual protection in terms of being able to lie when it was needed. He was going to give himself an ulcer thinking about all the ways the world's ashes could have smothered this beautiful man and made it so Bill never knew what his laugh sounded like when he was drunk off his arguably lovely ass, or that he'd kill a fucking deer with near perfection if the stakes were good tea. Such stupid things to think about with literal fucking monsters running around eating everyone... and humans running around trying to take what was not theirs to claim, with no regard for the waste lain in their paths. This beautiful, honest, sweet, gentle man. An angel on earth, too good for it and the rubble left after the long fabled end finally came to the 'nigh' part of the prophesies. He was somber, pressing lips back to Frank's and repeating it on loop a few dozen times before backing up a step to offer back. "I still had to point it out. Because I don't care. I don't. I'd let you stay for any reason, so long as you stay. It is just so... foreign, I guess. The concept that I'm... worth that. Myself. Not what I can do." Then his mind was swirling on the second part. The part that tied so intricately and so crucially to the first part. The way he made the joke about falling in the trap made the startled man chuckle a bit, moving back to press into him. He was going to have to find a way to get closer... even entwined in his their bed, only skin to separate them, he was too far at times. It was so weird to think that maybe this... maybe being in love was what made the concept of touch so addictive. The idea that Frank loved him was so beautifully alien. That someone as pure and kind and soft wanted a disaster like Bill. He was steel wool and rusty nails and bourbon with a violent punch... a hurricane that no preparation could protect you from when it touched down. He was the one people needed help from, and nothing more... and this man wanted a life from him. And here Bill was... the man who hated being touched and who had never, never, not fucking once told anyone he loved them... pressing frantic kisses to soft skin, practically moaning from the agony of the weight of the words on his heart. Not because they hurt, but because he needed to say them. "I love you, Frank..." He paused a second and hummed, curious and calm somehow, like the words were all he needed to find this peace. "Why do you call me William and not Bill?"

"But what if you don't? Because no one ever has, Frank. Even my own..." It was embarrassing how fast he allowed that to slip out, and even more so with how quick he felt emotion overcome him. It was true, though. No one ever stayed. They said they would, and then they fucking left. And it was fucking fine. He didn't need them. He could survive. He could build and fix and cook, and he never needed another goddamn human again. Maybe that was why the end soothed him. No one else to lie to him. To tell him he was something he would never be. No one until Frank. But this human... he can't admit that. Not yet. Not until he knew for sure. "I know you want to now. Be it because of the showers, or food, or the s...the sex... but... things change. And I know that. I know better than to think that the world ending changed anything about me." His face was humiliatingly wet and warm. He backed off, shaking his head and letting the choked off words fall. He wanted it? Fine. Only two ways for it to end, and this would answer questions for them both. Why he was so fearful and hard for Frank and if he really wanted to stay for Bill. He shifted back another step and sighed. "My mother left me here when I was seventeen. She was tired of me. Said that I was too fucking 'special', the bad kind, the way they said about the kids that got stared at in the yard. The doctors never said it. But she... she suspected, and I think everyone else did too. I was different and they didn't like me." It was weird. Talking about it, telling anyone about what he'd had to listen to over and over and over and over, until he was often left wondering why he was still alive. If he was that much of a burden to everyone he came across... was it even worth it? Yes. Because now we have him. "I had a girlfriend. Once. For a whole day. She only spent that day with me because she was worried about this boy she liked not wanting to date virgins, and I... didn't understand enough to get that she was only using me as means to an end. After that... I was alone until my mother got sick. I moved back here, I took care of her until she died and she let me keep the house. So... I am scared, Frank... of you telling me you want to stay and making me think it's because of me and it's not. I don't care. You can stay if it's just for the food or whatever it might be... I just... am fearful of being lied to." Then came the harder confession. He wiped at his face, shaking harder than he had in a few days, trying to find the words to explain... and opting to be direct. He moved back to invade Frank's space, inhaling the scent of his soap and coffee, kissing him and whimpering guiltily against his lips. "I'm scared that I am falling in love with you..."

Send me "Good boy/girl" for my muse's reaction to your muse saying that to them!

It was so insanely overwhelming. Bill never liked being touched; he hated it. He could remember being a little boy and having to be physically restrained at the doctor because he'd react so violently to touch... but then came Frank, who touched him like he was using only his hands to pray and like Bill was sacred. And he never wanted Frank to stop. Even if the contact still left him bewildered and unsure right then. He could feel his eyes widen in what he really hoped read as relief when Frank assured him he liked him too, tensing unintentionally as he was urged to relax. Frank asked him what he was afraid of and all at once, a cacophony of intrusive, mean thoughts assaulted his brain. It insisted he remind Frank that he wasn't a good man, he was a lonely man. That he'd find someone better if he spared himself. But at the same time, his heart protested. Frank was sweet, but it was a genuine miracle the man had lived long enough to nearly die in one of Bill's traps. He fought back, focusing on the lilt in Frank's voice when he'd praise Bill, or the shade of his eyes when he first woke up in the morning, letting that quell the screaming, then he tried organizing his thoughts. Would he sound pathetic if he owned the fear of being alone again? Was it manipulative to tell him he was afraid that he was falling in love with Frank? There was no way to be sure what was okay to say and what was sure to make the beautiful features of the younger man crumble. "That's a story for a different day. Please come home..."

I will always choose you. He said it like something sacred, and that was both beautiful and terrifying. Bill had never been tolerated, much less worshipped the way Frank seemed to genuinely be doing. He knew his fear and his past made him question if this was because he fed him, or because he knew he'd be safe here with Bill... but the weight of the promise falling so effortlessly and confidently from lips Bill already never wanted to stop kissing told him this might be a real thing. Them. He'd spent so long happy to be alone. Never had he stopped to think about how nice it might be to have a person. To have someone he wanted that wanted him back. And now, the world was over and somehow, the perfect someone, the perfect person.. found him? And wanted him? His hands moved to rest on Frank's hips, curling slightly into the well worn denim clinging to the skin there, voice a soft whine. "I really like you..."

"Because the world ended and there's no one else?" He'd been the one no one wanted his whole life. He was weird, different. It made it hard to connect to people, and it had made him so relived when everyone was gone. He no longer had to fit in. And he still didn't, not even now, with Frank, but he wanted to. He wanted so badly to be the kind of man Frank would want to stay with. Not just because there's no other option. And it felt an unfair question... it really did, but he needed to ask. He needed to assurance that his brain was playing games and that he was worth being something to someone as beautiful and good as Frank. "I've never done this before..."