I don't own Young Avengers.

The Least He Can Do

In hindsight, Billy'd tell himself he saw it coming but fooled himself into thinking otherwise. After all, the setting was oh so perfect for it - the late hour, the dark street, the lamp overhead framing their little scene, and the rain, oh, the rain, a prelude, foreshadowing all the crying he would do later that night. Of course, if he were to be honest with himself, he'd admit the biggest clue was that he let himself be hopeful for a moment, that he let himself think things would work out - that he dared smile. Of course that was asking reality to laugh in his face, of course.

"That means you won't need me."

There's a moment of silent disbelief, as though the words have nothing to do with them. Neither says much, almost hoping for the rain to wash it away, but all it does is leave them wetter than a moment before. It's then Teddy speaks again, sounding lost, helpless, desperate, everything Billy himself feels more and more with every word Teddy utters. It's not true, a part of him screams, appalled. How could Teddy accuse him of this, how could he?! Damn Loki for making him doubt, damn David for telling him to leave! And damn Billy himself for not finding anything to say to make it better. To say clearly that no, he did no such thing ever. But if there is one thing he doesn't want to do is to lie to Teddy. Teddy, who's crying again, with slumped shoulders and a broken voice, conveying every last bit of pain and doubt he bottled up and shouldered on his own for the past four months, on top of everything else they've been through. Billy can't even find it in himself to object or argue, even though all he wants to do is beg. Beg for Teddy to reconsider, to think things through again, but he knows it's pointless - it's been four months. Teddy's done all the thinking he had to. All that's left is to try and be apart.

He holds on with all his strength and feels Teddy clinging back with equal need and dread. They fit in each other's arms as well as they ever did, maybe more than before, and he's reluctant to let go. Who knows when's the next time they'll see each other again, embrace again - if ever?
He tightens his hold. That thought alone is too much to bear. Almost as unbearable as the way Teddy's shivering against him, too much for Billy to think it's only his own body betraying him.

"Stay one last night? Just tonight?" He whispers, and it's a miracle Teddy hears him, even if Billy's lips are a mere inch from Teddy's ear.

"...no. I might... I might change my mind." is the answer, pained and reluctant, almost as much as their pulling apart from each other. Neither wants to let go, and there's some surprise clear on Teddy's face when Billy lets him, the star-adorned hands falling limply to the witch's side. It was never a matter of will, though, Billy knows that so very well, and he explains it in the only way he can.

"Or maybe I'll change your mind."

That was the last thing they say. There is no goodbye, and Billy swallows one down. He holds himself back, fingers digging into his arms as he watches Teddy leave. It would be so easy to tilt his head lower, to have his hood block out not only the rain from his face but also the sight, but he looks ahead still, taking in the way Teddy's practically dragging himself away from him.
The worst part? He knows, he feels how easy it would be to stop Teddy if he really wanted to with every fiber of his being. It's a part of him, a second nature, as instinctive as the command that keeps his fingers dragging the fabric of his sleeves over his arms. But he doesn't. Instead, he lets Teddy leave, watching him until he's out of sight.

It's the least he can do, after all. How many months did he sit on the windowsill, not even responding when Teddy cared for him, tended to him, put his life on hold all for the sake of her person he cared for? How many weeks later was he beyond reach, making Teddy feel like he couldn't come to him, couldn't be honest with him? Even after that...
It's been more than a year. If Teddy needs time to sort things out, Billy knows he has no right to deny him at least that much. And besides...

"Till death do us part... right?" He whispers and reaches a hand to gingerly touch the metal hoop hanging off his right ear.
They were both still alive, therefore, there was hope for them yet, he thought and finally turned around, forcing his attention back to the things he could do something about in the meanwhile.