Willy had come by regularly but every time he was greeted by a locked door and a lackluster dismissal through the solid wood. He'd gone, unsure of what to do about his mortal sweet. A large part of his nature pulled at him to cut the boy loose. He was Willy Silver, he did not need to chase down a wounded soul. There were plenty of beauties to be had. But Bobby was not simply a beauty to be enjoyed. Willy was confused by his feelings but the fact remained that there were feelings there.
Tonight he didn't knock. He was done pleading for entrance. Tonight he had stopped by the management office and had charmed the spare key to Bobby's apartment from the chubby middle aged woman who would most certainly take her desire home to her weary husband and create a memorable night.
Willy slipped the ill-gotten key into the lock and walked in. He said nothing but he didn't need to. His heavy boots thudded on the floor and the zippers and buckles of his motorcycle jacket jingled as he moved, announcing his presence.
Bobby hadn't heard the key in the lock thanks to the volume of the TV, but when the door closed behind him and he heard footsteps approaching he went rigid, turning with his hands held in front of him in a defensive pose, frost already forming on his fingers. He saw who it was and curled his hands into fists just before unleashing an icy blast at the intruder. "Fuck!" He sank back against the couch, heart pounding with the adrenaline rush that had flooded him and scrubbed a frosty hand through his unkempt curls. "Don't do that," he muttered, tucking his legs up against his chest as he watched Willy over the back of the couch, expression wary.
"Don't do that? What would you have me do, sweet? Continue the futile effort of knocking on your door? No...no, you had to be aware that eventually I would make use of your open invitation. And now here I am."
He looked around and sniffed the air.
"This is deplorable. You cannot continue to live like this."
"Don't just...barge in." But it was done, so there was no point in continuing the conversation.
He glanced around the room and shook his head. "It's not that bad." He turned his gaze back to the TV, though he wasn't really watching it anymore. He just couldn't face Willy, not after what he'd done--to the faerie, to innocent strangers...he knew it hadn't been him, intellectually, but he'd still watched it, helpless to do anything, as his powers were used to hurt, to torture...to kill.
And that wasn't even going into just how much he now knew he could do.
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Tonight he didn't knock. He was done pleading for entrance. Tonight he had stopped by the management office and had charmed the spare key to Bobby's apartment from the chubby middle aged woman who would most certainly take her desire home to her weary husband and create a memorable night.
Willy slipped the ill-gotten key into the lock and walked in. He said nothing but he didn't need to. His heavy boots thudded on the floor and the zippers and buckles of his motorcycle jacket jingled as he moved, announcing his presence.
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He looked around and sniffed the air.
"This is deplorable. You cannot continue to live like this."
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He glanced around the room and shook his head. "It's not that bad." He turned his gaze back to the TV, though he wasn't really watching it anymore. He just couldn't face Willy, not after what he'd done--to the faerie, to innocent strangers...he knew it hadn't been him, intellectually, but he'd still watched it, helpless to do anything, as his powers were used to hurt, to torture...to kill.
And that wasn't even going into just how much he now knew he could do.
Reply
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