Regret was a new experience for him. He had always been so sure of him self, so sure he was too great to ever do any wrong, that even the faintest trace of guilt or regret had always been brushed aside. Now though, it was all-consuming. It seemed that there wasn't a moment passing by that he wasn't replaying how things could have been in his mind, the things he could have said or done...

It was frustrating. More frustrating than any complaint he might have had that lead up to this, this mess.

Billy had tried to go back to the perfect shield of pride he had before, but his armor was...dented, broken, and no matter how hard he tried to repair it, it just didn't look the same. Instead of looking and acting like the spoiled, dignified, aristocrat, he walked around like some stoic b*****d with a chip on his shoulder. There was perhaps more truth to than than the former had ever been.

The days that went by without Ladon usually spent in the Rift, or selling his art. At night, he collected energy, and sought senshi to fight, just for a distraction. He was taking out his anger on them. Anger for what? Not for Ladon making his fear a reality. Not for the punches and bloody lip the boy had left him with, or the broken pride, but towards himself. He fought until he was tired and numb, and hopefully by the time he got home, he wouldn't spend much time thinking before sleep claimed him.

Sometimes though, there was just no one to fight and nothing to do but to lay there on the pallet on the attic floor, staring up at the rafters, but not seeing. Rose eyes seemed to gloss over, silver bangs falling over them anyway as his head rested on his arms crossed behind his head.

He should have kept his mouth shut. He should have worked things out on his own. He should have never expected Ladon to sit and work things out with him - not in his recent mindset anyway. But... Billy had been so scared. When he realized suddenly how vulnerable he had become, and that he was losing the only defense mechanism he had, he began to panic, over analyzing any and everything. He was afraid of being vulnerable and getting hurt. The only way he knew not to get hurt was to make himself believe that he was something great, not capable of being hurt, but that wasn't what he was beginning to show the world. Smiling down at your boyfriend and holding his hand or draping an arm around his waist didn't say "I'm a badass, don't you even try to mess with me." Making him breakfast at four in the morning then breaking down into frustrated tears didn't say "Look at how much better I am than you." Keeping a ring in your pocket every day, waiting for his hand to get better so you could give it to him didn't...say... Didn't say.....

But he had been happy. He enjoyed Ladon't presence, doing things to make him happy, being there for him and watching out for him. He loved coming home to someone who cared about him, loved waiting at home for him to get back from his walks. Billy loved Wolframite, too and the fierce, insane, passion there and the captain. Billy missed his bad habits being nagged about, and the attempts to get him to eat better, or being taught how to cook. He missed the blush when he'd say something suggestive and the feel of wrapping his arms around a small warm body, the scent of that dark hair as he'd bury his nose in it...

Was it worth it to lose everything that had made him finally happy? Was it worth it, just so he couldn't be hurt? Wasn't he already hurting? Could he just, perhaps, go and apologize? If he told Ladon that he hadn't meant half of what he said, that he'd been confused and scared, would he forgive him and take him back?"
The only answer was no. No to all of the above.
Ladon wouldn't chance his heart on him again, would he? Why would he? The boy wasn't that masochistic, right?

Billy let out a shuddering breath and rolled over on to his side, curling into a ball and dragging his blanket over him. A hand tangled in his hair and covered his face.

Should he just...move on? Try again? The thought was unbearable. He'd much rather...admire from afar. Protect if he could. Watch over him and covet what he'd had and lost, and could never have again. He could find happiness in that, couldn't he?