Billy is used to being alone—he has always been alone. His parents abandoned him, he was shifted from foster home to foster home until he finally broke free of the system. No one had ever loved him and he had no one to ever want to love: one more reason he wants to rule the world.
When he meets her eyes, however, things change.
The Laundromat is suddenly silent, as if everyone around knows he's found her. He has found her, and he never wants to lose her.
It's the first time ever he doesn't want to be alone.
The last girl and the last reason to make this last for as long as I could
"Keep your head up, Billy, buddy."
The silence following these words is enormous, and Billy can't fill it with words. He leans, and she leans, and their lips are moments from touching, and he can't remember the last time he felt so alive—
"It's like Captain Hammer is always saying."
She leans away, and he has to make some sort of response: "Right. Him."
She says something else, but he is lost in his own reverie of what could have been. He can't help but imagine her lips against his, the taste of frozen yogurt mixed with lust and love.
The first kiss and the first time that I felt connected to anything
"It's gonna be bloody!"
He only has to flex one muscle.
"Head up, Billy buddy, there's no time for mercy!"
And there she is. In his head, again, forever.
"Here goes no mercy!"
And as much as he wants to, he can't pull the trigger.
He can't have no mercy. It's not who he is. Killing isn't elegant or creative; if he's said it once, he's said it a hundred times. Captain Hammer doesn't deserve her, but he doesn't deserve to die, either.
"That's not a good sound…"
A fist collides with his face, and he is suddenly flying backward.
The weight of water, the way you taught me to look past everything I have ever learned
He scrambles over to her, and he knows what's going to happen before it does.
"Billy?" Her voice is a question, as if she is unsure he's there at all.
"Penny." He places a hand on her cheek. "Penny, I love you."
He hadn't intended to say that, but the sentence is out there before he can take it back, and her eyes meet his.
"You do?"
He nods. "Always."
He places his forehead against hers and closes his eyes. "Billy, I love—"
But her breath is gone, and she can't finish her sentence.
He can't feel a thing.
The final word in the final sentence you ever uttered to me was love