Work Text:
Sometimes Bill thinks he's just too lucky.
Every time he tries to look at his life from a stranger's perspective, he sees how incredibly happy he must feel because of everything he has. And he does, he really does. He feels overwhelming gratefulness filling up his whole being, thinking about the amazing friends he's got, two of whom he's darn lucky enough to call his boyfriends, having the parents who still treat him great after everything they've been through. But you can't see from a stranger's point of view just how hard it is for him to keep it all right where things are.
Sometimes Bill gets just too overwhelmed with trying to keep up with the perfection surrounding him. Every day of trying so hard to be the most interesting and passionate friend he can be, the best leader of the group, the most amazing son, the perfect boyfriend. Being someone who he desperately wants to be in the others' eyes is all he's been trying to do for so long.
And if for any reason he would turn up at a physiologist's office, he wouldn't be sure how to explain it. It was just complicated. The strongest fear of feeling like a failure if he's not doing his best has been the hugest part of Bill's life since the tragedy with his little brother happened. The amount of guilt and self-hatred he felt at the time was so incredibly gigantic, that he almost drowned under its' weight, and the only way to climb out of it was trying to become the best son he could possibly be, so there wouldn't be any more reasons for his parents to despise him other than because of what had already happened. Other than because of the greatest mistake he's ever made in his life. Bill thought that maybe, just maybe, his parents would notice how good he was, how hard he was trying to not make any mistakes anymore, to be the ideal boy from a movie they, Bill believed, had always dreamed about, and maybe one day they would've started loving him again. He knew that winning their trust and forgiveness was impossible, but maybe he could try to make them love him again. At least a little bit.
And the uncontrollable need to show his parents what a perfect boy he could be slowly strated crawling into the other parts of his life. The unspoken leadership of the group meant some obligations, and Bill led with passion and confidence, trying to let his friends know they could always rely on him, to lead with a steady hand and make sure they knew he would always be their rock no matter what. Maybe the other thing that played a role in the building of his character was the strongest desire to protect his pack. He wasn't able to properly protect the most important person in his life, which resulted in so much pain for everyone. He wouldn't make the same mistake again.
It was only a matter of time before he started breaking under his own desire to be the best version of himself. But the world didn't revolve around him. He wasn't the only one trying — others were doing so good in being amazing, perfect, impeccable, and Bill just couldn't understand why it looked so easy, almost effortless for them and felt so heavy for him. It's not that he didn't notice his friends' flaws, but they were so much better at dealing with them. Bill didn't know how to do the same thing.
And he had to try two times harder to constantly keep impressing his two boyfriends. Stan and Mike treated him as good as was even possible, never made Bill feel like he didn't manage this type of relationship, but it wasn't a secret that keeping what the three of them had going required more of each of them than the relationship between two people could require. And no matter how hard it sometimes got for him to keep up with the pace of life he'd set up for himself, he would've never given up on what they had. Even in his worst nightmares he couldn't imagine bailing out of this relationship. Their love felt complete only with the three of them, and Bill could've never chosen an easier path if it meant choosing just one of his lovers.
But even though Bill wouldn't ever want to quit from what they had, it didn't mean that his boyfriends weren't thinking about telling him he wasn't welcomed in this relationship anymore, that it all would've felt easier, fresher, nicer without him. That Bill brought tension in their trio that became too much for them to cope with. That it just wasn't worth it anymore. Because this itch under his skin came and wasn't going away. The pure horror he felt of the thought of his boys leaving him because he wasn't good enough was eating him on the inside. Losing the love Mike and Stan surrounded him with — it would just kill him. So all he could do was to try harder to do better, and he was suffocating.
× × × ×
It was such a regular evening, one of the hundreds they've spent together. Bill was lying on the bed, their bed, in their apartment they were renting, reading a book of the similar style he's been working on lately. Being a writer was not easy and he knew it, and working on what was going to become his own first novel and the beginning of a stunning, as he hoped, career, brought him so much happiness and so much desperation like for any other young author. But at that moment all he could feel was the "I can never become as good as other authors are" drum banging inside of his head. And usually he would be able to soothe it before it took control over him. Usually he would, but that day was probably the breaking point.
He turned a page with his hands trembling, and breathed out slowly, feeling tightness in his chest. He threw a glazed look at Stan, who was sitting in an office chair with his feet up on the desk, quietly watching a series on his iPad. He was wearing a light pink sweater he stole from Bev's wardrobe a few years ago, big enough to swallow him up, sleeves covering his hands. His curls were neatly tucked to the side with a pin Mike gifted him on the Valentine's day — a little blue jay, holding a strand of hair with its spreaded wings. Everything about this look was just as stunning as always.
Bill felt his breathing becoming uneven, glancing at his own reflection in the mirror. He looked.. fine. He spent so much time that morning trying to make himself look good, but it all just went to nothing with Stan sitting near him being the embodiment of sheer natural beauty. Bill bit his lip, trying to hold his thoughts in place.
He returned his attention to the book. The even lines of gorgeous acute sentences were slowly turning into a smudged blurry mess before his eyes.
"When she looked at Terry, she saw the type of a knight in shining armor she's always dreamed about. This man didn't just give her the feeling of home and protection she craved so badly, it wasn't just about the way he treated her. What made him the right man was that he seemed to be a perfect person on his own."
Bill felt his nails roughly scratching into his thigh and his face getting tense. How could he become the knight for his boyfriends, if he wasn't even able to write a good decent book with the characters he could look up to? His cheeks went pale, and he tried to calm himself down once again.
Sometimes he just wished some non-existing Terry could come into his life, head straight to his place and live his life instead of him. He would do so much better at it than Bill, successfully meeting everyone's expectations and being the best in everything without feeling like it was too much. Without getting his heart rush out of nowhere like it was happening to Bill now. Without having a sudden desire to scream.
And maybe his hitching breath was what caught Stan's attention. He paused the video he'd been watching, turning towards Bill with a soft smile. It took him just a second to figure out that something was really wrong, his expression turned into concerned.
"Babe?" Stan murmured, frowning, noticing the tight grip of Bill's fingers on the book's cover.
Bill didn't answer. The thoughts in his head were spinning at a crazy rate, and at the same time his mind went foggy, and he wasn't able to focus on one thing, he just wasn't--
"Bill. Hey", the soft voice wedged into the silence that now seemed scary instead of comfortable. His eyes stuck to the book, barely noticing that Stan moved onto the bed and sat beside him, trying to find something on Bill's face that would've given him a clue to what was going on.
And maybe he did, because the next second he was holding his phone up to his ear.
"Come home. Now." Stan whispered quietly but steadily, his tone clearly showing how important the subject was.
And this made the dam of Bill's thoughts crash. It meant he was calling Mike, he told Mike to come home. Stan didn't think he could handle the problem himself, Stan needed someone else to come and help him take care of Bill, because he was such an unpredictable mess. The tears of anger and frustration started forming in his eyes.
"Bill, can you hear me?" Stan delicately palmed his chin, brushing his cheek with a thumb.
Bill flinched under his touch. It was so gentle, so pleasant, that his whole being craved for more, but he couldn't make himself move. Stan was right there, cozy and familiar, ready to shower him with affection, but his body froze.
All of them were pretty good at showing their feelings, letting each other take care of themselves. But deep down Bill had always felt that Mike or Stan never needed his attention as much as he did. It took him years of shoving down the vulnerable slut for care he's always been, because that's not what Stan and Mike needed. They wanted someone strong enough to lean on, and he couldn't just fuck it all up in a second. Except that he was doing just that.
"Billy, baby, look at me", Stan's steady voice was slowly breaking through the fog wall in Bill's mind, "I need you to look in my eyes and take a deep breath, okay?"
Bill breathed in roughly following Stan's example, "..and out", a warm finger traced his cheekbone, wiping off the tears.
"Repeat", Stan ordered, loosening Bill's grip on the book and throwing it away on the bed.
He straddled Bill's lap and let his fists clutch desperately to the sweater. "Talk to me, baby, tell me what you need." Stan wrapped his hands around Bill's, stroking his cold skin.
But it was wrong, just wrong, Stan didn't need to calm him down, that was just stupid. That's how things were — he was fine with doing anything for his boyfriends, that was his role in this relationship, and if he was breaking then it meant he couldn't manage the role he chose, he couldn't handle his part, he wasn't good at being who he tried to be.
Stan tried to come up off his lap, which made Bill cling to his sweater tighter, tearing the fabric. His uncontrollable sobbing became louder, because Stan was leaving him, Stan understood what a failure he was, he was letting go of his hands and of his life, and now he tore Stan's favorite clothing item in which he used to look so amazing. A picture popped up in his head — a brief memory of the time he walked into their bedroom and saw Mike fucking Stan, bending him over the desk, gripping his hips barely covered with nothing but the pink sweater. It was the first time Mike said "I love you", cried it out during his orgasm. Bill stayed at the doorway till they finished, pleased by the view, heart full and ready to burst, then taking the stained sweater off of completely wrecked Stan and cleansing it. And then another memory came up — both of them eating ice cream at a park, Mike cuddling Stan from behind, both laughing happily. Stan dropped some onto the sweater, and Bill washed it off that evening after winning him a parrot plushie at darts. It was such a great date.
And now the thick fabric tore in his fingers. He ruined his boys' best memories in a second, because he was a weak, breaking mess who needed more than the most important people in his life were willing to give him. Stan was going to tell Mike about it and he would lose them both. They didn't need such a loser who just couldn't handle anything the way he had to--
The next second he was able to hear something was after he felt a paper bag shoved around his mouth, and Stan whispered clearly in his ear "Breathe in", straddling Bill once again and gripping his sides tightly with his legs, securing him in place like Bill was the one trying to go away and not him.
The panic slowly started to let go of his mind after he repeated the cycle for what felt like a thousand times along with Stan's steady commands and the shuffling of the bag. His hand was entangled in Bill's hair, and he kissed his forehead between every breath he took.
And then their little world was disturbed by a second pair of hands rubbing the skin of his cheeks, strained now after the stream of tears had ended, and blowing his nose with a piece of toilet paper so he could breath easier.
"M-Mike", he wheezed, finally finding his own body in space and leaning to the boy sitting besides the bed without letting go of Stan.
"Shhh, Billy-bee, it's all good, you're fine, you're safe, we're here", he started cooing, leaving sweet kisses on Bill's face and rubbing his shoulders. "Whatever it is, everything's gonna be alright."
But Bill still was on the edge even though they were near, making him feel safe and warming him up, so Mike figured out it must have been not about feeling danger, and he tried something else. "We love you so much, it's all gonna be fine, you're the best, the best person I've ever known." He felt Bill started shivering and leaning into their touch, closing his eyes, and knew he'd hit the point.
"Baby boy, you're the best lover and friend we could've ever dreamed of, you know that?" Mike stroke his forehead and let his thumb trace Bill's eyelids swollen from crying. "You're the best, so good, such an amazing human being, love," he kept babbling, nudging Bill's jaw with his nose, like he was trying to imprint these words onto his boy's skin.
Bill let out a helpless hiccup, and Stan wrapped himself around him completely, embracing his whole body, breathing into his ear so Bill would breath with him. He buried his face into Stan's neck, desperately inhaling his smell.
"Sometimes I close my eyes and think about everything I've got, and just can't believe I get to call you my mine." Mike stopped caressing his face for just a second, smiling at the muffled whine he got in response. He pulled his own shirt and pants off, tapping Stan's knee so he would move Bill and himself onto the side without loosening the grip of his legs around Bill's.
"Such a beautiful, wonderful, precious angel", Mike layed down behind him, facing Stan and hugging Bill completely from the back, and let Bill's hand slip onto his bare thigh. He'd probably have finger-shaped brusies by the next day from how hard Bill's grip got. "Always takes such good care of us, never lets us down", he praised.
"Isn't he just perfect, Stanny?" he placed a kiss in the boy's curls. "How did we deserve him?"
"No idea," Stan whispered. And there was so much sincerity in his voice, like he was saying the world's greatest secret out loud, that Bill almost passed out because of the overwhelming love he felt at that moment.
They layed like this for what felt like an eternity or maybe only half an hour, just hugging, and breathing, and existing together. Mike thought that Bill fall asleep when he finally became way more relaxed, so he just stared at Stan's eyes above Bill's shoulder, brushing their lips together and pressing firm kisses from time to time. He didn't need to say anything, he could read it all in Stan's eyes. I love you. Both. We'll get through anything together. We've got amazing future ahead of us.
Suddenly Bill sighed deeply and let out a quiet exhausted laugh.
"Th-thought you w-w-were on an imp-portant meeting," he said. The tiny bell of hate towards his returned stutter rang inside of his head, but he pushed it down with a gentle kiss to his neck. They loved him, and nothing could ever change that. No matter how imperfect he might have felt, he was good enough for them.
"There's nothing more important for me than you two, Billy-bee. Sleep. We're not going anywhere. When you wake up, we're gonna be right here."
"I'm s-sorry about your sweater, Stan", he hummed, feeling his heart skipping a beat even though he knew Stan was fine with it. "Ruined good memories".
"Memories stay in our heads, love. I'll let you buy me another one and fuck me on the roof of our old school." he grinned, nibbling Bill's ear.
Bill let himself relax. "Gotta rest then", and with that he drifted to sleep in his boyfriends' arms.