Moist remembers the first time he found Billy by the fridge in the middle of the night. He had always wondered about it, recalling the time that Billy had told him about the janitor's faucet that you could hear. It had been a strange thing to bring up at the time, and to this day Moist still doesn't get why Doc had brought it up. But he does know that it's true. You can hear the janitor's sink in the middle of the night if you're by the fridge. Which was kind of odd.
It had been an off day. No, it had been an off month. Or two months, or three… Moist wasn't sure when it all started. But he had noticed that Billy was acting a bit strange. Suddenly, laundry-day became very important. Billy would bug Moist to keep his clothes in the laundry basket, he would make sure to have his quarters rolled and ready to go on top of the clothes waiting for him, he would make sure the night before that he had enough detergent. It was really weird. Like he didn't want anything to go wrong on laundry-day. It was just laundry. But Moist did as he was told. He thought it could be that Billy spent so much time in the lab that it was his one day to go out and do something besides rob someone. Moist could understand that. Every Wednesday Billy would go out and clean their clothes.
Until it took up his Saturdays. Moist didn't mind at first, though he thought it was a bit odd that he would wash their things twice a week. They didn't have that many clothes. And he was being weird about it too. Moist would watch from the window as Billy waited for the bus, watching his phone for the time, getting angry and yelling when it was a minute late. One time he got so fed up that he walked to the Laundromat. It was really weird. And Moist had to break him of it, because it was just getting awkward. Billy was yelling down the street at the bus that wasn't there. So he put it in Billy's mind that on Saturday, they had to pull some kind of heist. It took two weeks, but he convinced him to do so.
But Saturday came, and the plan was set. Moist and Dr. Horrible (Still Billy in Moist's mind at the time) snuck into a Wal-Mart. Why? Because they had an awful lot of money and Moist needed new high-tops. They sold shoes there. Why not? It didn't last long. Billy tossed the hair out of his eyes (it had gotten pretty long) and covered his blues with his goggles before punching a hole through the ceiling with his gravity gun. The manager tried to play hero, and was now bobbing along not far from the hole. Billy was trying to scare him. It worked. Backpacks full of money (one with a pair of shoes) and they were out the door. Only to run SMACK into Hammer. Billy stumbled and fell to the ground, adjusting his goggles to the top of his head to see what he had hit. He wished he had kept them on.
Hammer played dirty that time, grabbing the blond by the hair and flinging him around. The goggles were broken that day, again, and Moist went online to get a new pair on Monday. But the fight didn't stay in front of the Wal-Mart, it moved down the street, lasers flying as Billy tried to get Captain Hammer away from him. It didn't work. Grabbing the light hair again Hammer threw Moist's friend through a window. Dr. Horrible landed on the coin-operated washing machines hard, taking out a few of the coin-boxes and coming to a rest in the lap of a very pretty red-haired woman. Stumbling and stuttering an apology, Billy shut right up when Hammer's fingers tangled in his hair again and threw him back out of the building. Moist stole a van, popped the door open, and flung Billy inside to peel off just before Hammer came out. Then they ditched it a few streets down and made a break for it. Two thousand in cash, a pair of shoes, not bad.
Until Moist woke up in the middle of the night. He had to pee. Stupid really, but the excitement of the day and them both talking even as Moist dabbed ointment on the thick bruise on the side of Billy's face, they had plum forgotten everything else. Scratching his side as he shuffled from the bathroom to the kitchen (might as well grab something to eat) Moist paused when he noticed a small figure by the fridge. Eyebrow raised, Moist crossed and knelt down.
It was Billy. The man was sitting with his back against the cold white appliance, knees to his chest, arms around his legs. His chin was resting against his torso, and for all appearances looked like he was asleep. But in the streetlight coming through the window, Moist could see the silverblues unblinking over the pajama pants. After what seemed like an eternity, Moist realized that Billy didn't know he was there. He was lost in his own little world. Glancing up at the pans that hung from the ceiling, Moist quietly asked for help as to what to do. Shifting from his crouch he sat beside his friend, legs out in front of him, hands in his lap. Some moments later, (this was turning into a night made of moments) Moist put an arm around his buddy's shoulders and pulled him close. Resting against the damp shoulder, they shared a soggy silence as the world rushed by outside the window, the fridge kicking on, the dripping faucet on the other side of the wall… none of it mattered. Not right now.
"What's up Doc?" Moist's voice was low. Quiet, though he wasn't sure why. Seemed almost right, to keep the calm in the room.
"Life of crime." Billy whispered, nuzzling deeper into the soaked shirt of his friend. Later, that phrase would become a kind of signal that not everything was 100% on someone's side. But at this moment, it brought a small smile tugging at Moist. Life of crime, sure it was. Hiding here by the fridge.
"Common Doc. What's up?"
Another moment in the night of moments. This time it was a long silent one. Billy was clearly having a war with himself. Should he tell Moist? It was so clichéd, so over done. But it happened. Should he tell him?
Moist learned a lot about Billy that night. He learned that his mother hated men. He learned that Billy was a contract. She always wanted a girl. A girl? Uh-huh. But the scans, they would have known. She wasn't allowed to, it was their deal. How did you- you know. Find out? Yeah.
Turns out that Billy used to have long hair. Longer than it was now, which wasn't all that long considering Moist's bowl cut. But it had been very long, and it used to be braided. And his mother would go to the girl's section of a department store, and mutter something about "I should be here" before dragging her son to the boy's section. Little hints and tricks Billy spilled out that night, in long-winded sentences spewed out so quickly Moist had trouble following. Billy liked to talk fast. It was a little sad.
"I got into Stanford. Full scholarship, everything. Stanford Moist! And she just… tugged my hair. Grabbed it, and pulled." It wasn't a beauty contest. Her son got into a geek school. She wanted a daughter that could win a beauty pageant. He hated having his hair pulled. So he cut it. They sat for some time, the sun was starting to peek through the window before either of them spoke or moved.
"He threw me into Penny. She's got to think I'm an idiot now."
"Penny?" Penny, the red-head whose lap Billy had landed in when Hammer had chucked him through a window. Moist learned of the laundry-day crush. Billy learned of Bait. The whole day was spent in the kitchen, in their pajamas, talking. Around lunch they got up and moved to the table; Billy had some trouble from being on the cold floor all curled up tight. And now he was wet too. He didn't say anything about it, but Moist apologized anyway. They learned a lot about each other that day. Fears, hopes, dreams. Crushes, being crushed, the whole nine yards. Billy had talked all morning. Moist all afternoon. Moist actually trimmed Billy's hair in the kitchen while he talked to the blond. It was a soul searching kind of day.
Moist will never forget the first time he found Billy by the fridge in the middle of the night. He half wishes that it would happen again.