Knowing when to shut up

Billy kept silent, for a short while. His brain had trouble connecting neurons and synapses. Everything in his head, at the moment, was shut off, in a sort of self-defense reaction. It was blocking out a very obvious reality.

Kid Wicked had kissed him.

As a matter of fact, Kid Wicked was still kissing him for that time. Holding it there. He didn’t feel Billy pushing away, or screaming, but he wasn’t leaning in either. So Wicked kept it in one place.

Gears began to turn once more in Billy’s head, first starting with the essentials: Sound, Smell, Taste, Touch and Sight. Then more complicated processes began to click as well as a result, all of them reaching the same conclusion.

Kid Wicked had his lips on his own.

With that, Billy’s body tensed up, and scooted away from Wicked, breathing sharply, obviously in a panic. Wicked turned his head, looking over his shoulder. When he couldn’t find anything to be scared of, he returned his eyes to look at the suddenly quite alert Billy, giving an expression saying ‘What’s wrong?’

Billy, having not yet reached ‘Speech’ on the list of activities to restart yet, simply gaped. Wicked took a longer look around the room, and then gave the same look again.

“Uh…shuh…whuh?” Billy sputtered, trying to make sense.

Kid wicked tilted his head in response, giving Billy time to sort his thoughts out.

“WHAT TH’ FUCK WAS THAT?!”

Billy then realized he’d rather not have Mammoth, See-More, and Gizmo coming to see what he was yelling about. He waited to check for any noises of someone waking up.

There was nothing.

So Billy spoke again, quieter, but with much the same confusion.

“What th’ fuck was that?!” He whispered, his hands tense and his eyes wide.

Wicked knew this was only going to become more difficult, and require a more clear form of conversation. So he reached over, grabbed a pad of paper and a pen, and began to write.

‘What was what?’ Wicked wrote out.

“That! That…” Billy struggled for the words. “That – thing – ya kissed me!”

‘Oh’, Wicked thought to himself. But he simply wrote in response ‘I kissed you. That was that thing. Is there anything else confusing you?’, completely oblivious to Billy’s conflicting feelings and thoughts.

“But – you just – yes! Yes there is! Why did ya do that?!” Billy said through grinded teeth, forcing himself to be quiet. He couldn’t quite figure out if he was angry, confused, elated, or any number of things.

Wicked thought about it for a moment, shrugged, and wrote a new note: ‘I wanted to.’

Billy was unable to tangle well with all the blunt answers that Wicked provided, that still left the questions he couldn’t put into words in the air. Yet, he took another shot at trying to think up a question that would hopefully get to the heart of the matter.

“Why did you want to?”

Wicked didn’t take long at this either. The answers came so easily to him. He felt no need to elaborate on the answers – that each one made sense on their own.

‘I like you.’

Billy bit the edge of his tongue on the left set of his teeth. He didn’t have a question now. Not just yet. He was trying to figure out Wicked on his own at the moment. Why Wicked didn’t seem to have any worries or restraints keeping him from simply doing as he wanted. Why Billy was part of those wants. How much want was there in Wicked.

Wicked, on the other hand, just sat silently, perplexed by Billy continually rubbing his face and fumbling with his hair. Wicked was not plagued with these seemingly consuming questions.

Billy sighed, frustrated with his own inability to figure Wicked – or, at the moment, himself – out, grabbed hold of a clump of his hazel hair, released, and spoke again.

“Why do ya like me?” He said, almost grumbling it.

This took Wicked longer. Not to figure out why, but to simply list it and get things in a good order, double-checking that he didn’t miss any reasons.

‘You’re funny. I like hearing you talk (Even if sometimes it is too much, hee). You’re really fun to be around and you’re never too serious. Like when we made a pillow fort. That was fun. You’re just nice and all these other things and I like you.’ He wrote out, with zero hesitation or worry about writing the wrong words.

Billy tried to put this all together in his head. Despite his Texan raisings, he didn’t really have a problem with homosexuality – didn’t see the point to getting that uptight over other’s people business like that. He didn’t often seeing the point in getting too tense at all. But it was so incredibly unexpected and unnoticed that Kid Wicked liked him this way. Kid Wicked, despite his appearances, was rather upbeat, even if he couldn’t show it through sounds. He liked candy, friends, and other interests that were often quite the opposite of someone dressed in black with pale skin. So Billy had just assumed he was just friendly towards all of the Hive Five. Making it all the more difficult to see the attraction Wicked had.

Billy mulled it over, and reached a conclusion.

He was confused, he didn’t have an answer, and these two problems weren’t going to be solved immediately.

Billy also noticed that his only real problem with the kiss was how unexpected it was – not the actual fact that he had been kissed, or that he had been kissed by another boy. Or even that he had been kissed by Wicked in particular.

Which gave him a whole new headache to tussle with.

So, he came up with an attack plan for this. A rather simple, passive attack plan, but it was all he could think of.

He’d go along with this, and figure out his feelings along the way.

With a deep breath, Billy dropped the tension in his body, and much to Wicked’s content, moved in close again - which Wicked responded to by rubbing Billy’s stomach with his hands and nuzzling his chest with his head.

Billy did his best not to tense up this time.