✧ 46 ✧
"I'll take you home."
Ilya stopped crying all of a sudden, and Billy gently let him free of his embrace.
Glossy eyes gazed back at Billy; those majestic colorful eyes always made him feel things he never knew he could ever feel again.
Ilya sniffled and brushed the tears from his eyes.
"Really?"
Billy was staring. He knew he was staring but couldn't look away. The resemblance was sticking. The same central heterochromia. The same cute chin. The same damn everything, except for the hair.
He was staring at Ned... And he couldn't bear to let him go.
A nervous twitch pulled at the side of his mouth, forcing a smile out of him. Hesitant, scared even, to lose him.
Not this time. Not again.
"Of course," Billy said; however, his body language suggested otherwise. "But you know." He let out a nervous chuckle. "There's a blizzard outside. I can't do much until it stops. OK?"
The sparkle of hope in Ilya's eyes was short-lived. It disappeared as soon as Billy postponed his promise, as if the boy knew that Billy had no intention of letting him go.
Excuses, excuses.
Ilya lowered his head and nodded.
Greg had just finished a smoke and joined them. His heavy steps shook the ground until he stopped a few feet away.
"Let the boy eat, will you?"
Billy got up, scratching his head once he saw how small and depressed the boy seemed. He couldn't understand why he wasn't thrilled about what he said to him. Wasn't it exactly what he wanted? To go home?
Humans are weird.
Once Greg practically dragged Billy away, Ilya was left to finish his meal in peace.
But Ilya was far from peace. His mind weaved different scenarios of his death. If not by the hands of Beast, who could appear at any moment, then by Billy's strange attachment to him.
Ilya looked around him. This apartment had different tools he could use as weapons—engineering tools.
But if, by any miracle, he managed to fight his way out, then what?
Judging by the types of tools neatly placed in a corner, some of which Ilya had never seen before, Pig must really be a master at his craft, filling every path in this building with lethal traps.
What about the windows?
Ilya snapped his head towards the nearest window to his left, but that sudden movement made him hiss and wince. His hand moved to the source of the discomfort—the wound on his shoulder. It was well bandaged but still sore and tender to the touch.
Forget it, Ilya told himself with a sad little pout. I'm too weak to climb down.
Judging by the way both creatures relaxed by the windows, worry-free of any hostile encounters, this building must be at least 10 floors high. A dangerous climb in Ilya's condition.
Ilya tried to finish eating, but his mind kept alerting him to the dangers all around.
A hiss. A twitch. Every movement had its cost. The pain was growing as time passed. As he swallowed his last bite, Ilya's skin turned clammy, and his breathing was shallow.
Billy came back to an empty plate. He smiled, knowing that the kid was well-fed, but his smile fell when he saw him clutching his shoulder and breathing heavily.
"Elliot?" Billy said with wide worried eyes. "What's wrong?"
Hearing people calling him by his fake name was strange, but Ilya responded by raising his head. He tried to talk, but the pain made it difficult to function properly.
"S-something's happening."
His eyes begged Billy to give him something for the pain.
And as if he read his mind, Billy hurried to a nearby cabinet. He searched until he grabbed some pills in his hands. He turned around as he heard the boy utter sounds of pain, a soft grunt and a moan. They were muffled and faint for a human ear to catch, but Billy heard them loud and clear.
He's in pain again.
Billy rushed back and handed Ilya the pills, but the kid couldn't move. His eyes were shut. He focused on breathing through the pain.
"Here," Billy said. "I brought you some painkillers."
Ilya opened his eyes slowly. His lips parted, and hot labored breaths escaped. He was trying to say something. His arm moved an inch before clutching his shoulder again with a wince.
"It's OK." Billy sat on the table in front of Ilya. "It'll take time for your wounds to heal. Painkillers every 4 hours will help ease the process."
But Ilya was deprived of any painkillers during the time he was with Beast. The pain wasn't as bad then. Not to the point where he couldn't even extend his hand for the pills. Why now?
Adrenalin was the answer Ilya came up with. I was in a state of fight or flight for so long that my body couldn't register the pain until now.
It was too painful to move. Ilya blushed at what he was about to ask.
"Gimme the pills."
Billy brought them closer. Then stopped, waiting for Ilya to grab them.
"No." Ilya sighed. "Give'em to me."
When Billy realized what the boy wanted him to do, it was his turn to blush.
"Oh... OK."
Ilya closed his eyes when the man's palm touched his lips. He opened his mouth until he felt the sour taste of the medicine on his tongue. Then a cold touch on his lips followed.
"Water," Billy explained.
Ilya gulped down the water from the glass cup, and the pills came down with it.
It was an awkward heavy moment for both of them. Ilya stayed quiet with his eyes closed. Billy stayed put, watching the boy and nervously rubbing his hands together.
Ilya moaned as he moved to rest on his side. Every movement was like hell, burning through his veins. He managed to lay down, breathing heavily, waiting for the pain to go away.
Billy got up and paced back and forth. He didn't know for how long he had been pacing, but it felt like hours. All his senses were working on detecting the boy's vitals.
Is he OK? Is it working? He's wincing! Billy's thoughts stormed in his head. He doesn't look so good. Is he asleep? Oh, no. Now, he's shaking.
Watching the sick boy for hours gave Billy extreme levels of anxiety that he never knew he'd have for a stranger. But for Billy. Elliot wasn't a stranger. He was a spitting image of Ned.
After a while, Ilya's breathing returned to normal. His heartbeat slowed down. His eyelids relaxed. And Billy knew... the pain had gradually subsided.
Ilya opened his eyes to find that shirtless muscular Beast in front of him with his frizzy hair, the scar on his eyebrow, and that tan complexion. His heart almost stopped, but then he saw those brown eyes, sharp but tender at the same time.
He needed to remind himself that this man was Billy, and Beast was gone. However, thinking about when the monstrous personality would come back scared him.
"Better?" Billy asked.
"I-I think so. Thank you."
Ilya bit his lips, but it was too late. The words of gratitude came out of him naturally. He told himself to stop being polite to the people who hurt him, but it was a habit he couldn't shake away. He had always been a good boy.
Billy inhaled a breath of relief and let it out.
"Good." He shifted towards Greg. "Thanks for the help, Greg." Then he turned back to Ilya. "Let's go."
Panic raised Ilya's voice and snapped his eyes wide open.
"Go?" He got up with difficulty, groaning. "Go where?"
Beast raised his brows.
"To my place. Where else?"