Chapter Text
When did the stairs at Bill's house get so creaky?
Jerry had gone up and down them countless times over the years— creeping down them, barreling up them, skipping every second step— but only now was he focused on the sound each step would make. It was like someone was holding a microphone to the wood, amplifying Jerry's steps and making them echo through the house... and of course, they were supposed to be quiet, weren't they?
Jerry closed his eyes and imagined Bill's parents routinely tucked into their bed sheets, mouth open, snoring. If they woke up… Knowing how Bill’s mother got, Jerry didn’t even want to think about it.
It took a second before he realized he had come to a complete stop. Bill had long since reached the top of the stairs, leaving Jerry alone to linger halfway up them, alone with the smell of dust. He eyed the next step.
These were old stairs, old and well used, weathered from years and years of Bill and his friends stomping on them with zero regard for their safety. It showed. His eyes slid over the warm wood, eyeing each stain and crack and piece of discoloration.
A sound came from the mouth of the stairwell: Bill's voice, muffled and muted from distance. Jerry realized he probably ought to get moving, and looked back down at the steps again.
He felt sluggish... like his limbs were protesting each movement. More than that, his mouth felt weirdly dry. He swallowed thickly. All at once, he felt an overwhelming wave of emotion. All he wanted was for Bill to come downstairs and sit next to him on the couch while they watched whatever was on cartoon network at the moment.
Maybe they could split a bag of chips between them, and Jerry could bat Bill’s hand away when they reached at the same time— all in good fun, of course— and Bill could glare at him and then they could smile and laugh at each other, laughing for no other reason then the fact that they were in each others company. Jerry’s mental image was so strong he could nearly feel the scratchiness of Bill’s old couch between him.
A creak at the top of the stairs had him re-opening his eyes. It was like a miracle: seemingly summoned by his thoughts, Bill's body had appeared in the doorway. Jerry looked up as if seeing an angel. Bill had each hand propping himself up on the doorframe, a glass of water precariously clutched in his left hand.
"Jerry!" He hissed. His glasses were slightly skewed on his nose. "The fuck are you doing? I thought you'd followed me up for like, ten minutes. I was just talking to myself up here."
"Bill," Jerry said, voice scratchy. He straightened up a bit and leaned his body against the wall, "D'you think space ghost is on?"
Bill did a quick whip around to eye the clock on the stove. Jerry watched his face scrunch up. For some reason, Jerry caught himself smiling again. There was this weird, pulling feeling in his chest-- like there was a string between him and Bill and someone had just yanked it tight. Jerry took in another deep breath.
Bill whipped back around to face him. "Yeah. But they're only airing stupid shit. You really wanna watch crap?"
Jerry shrugged, his right shoulder pushing against the wall annoyingly. He oughta stand up.
"You look a damn mess."
Jerry snorted and lifted his arm, making a grabbing motion with his hand, "Give me that water, Bill."
"This is my water, dickhead!" Bill huffed, even though he was already descending the stairs to give it to him. He noticeably didn’t have the same reservations as Jerry did about making sound. Jerry winced at each step.
"Here." He absently shoved it in Jerry's hand and Jerry almost dropped it. Thankfully, he was able to steady himself. Where his palm gripped, it was cool, but his fingers grazed where Bill's hand had been and he could feel the residual warmth. It sent a tingle up his spine.
Bill was leaning against the wall too, now. He was looking down the staircase, towards the television. If Jerry had to guess, he was probably calculating run times in his head. Jerry watched as he screwed his eyes shut.
"Fuck." He mumbled, tilting his body inwards, towards Jerry. "I'm trying to think... of what's on right now. But it's.." He knocked his temple with his knuckle. "I can't organize the information properly. I can’t.. catalogue!"
"That's rough, Bill." Jerry mumbled, leaning down to finally take a sip.
"Seriously, it's fucking with me. Maybe it's the stairs, I never stand on these stairs like this. I'm either up, or down." He paused for a moment, opening his eyes to think, "Up or down... up or down.." He mumbled absently. Then he smiled, like an idiot. It was that stupid smug smile too, the kind he wore when he landed an especially obscene joke-- like he was internally patting himself on the back. It was annoying. It was familiar.
Jerry watched it, most likely conspicuously, but there was a comfort in knowing Bill was probably just as far gone and probably wouldn't notice. Or he would, and he wouldn't think much of it.
It was that mindset, that sort of familiarity and assuredness that brought them together. The thought of 'you're like me'... or maybe, 'you won't judge me'. They both knew the two of them were different-- sometimes in the same ways. It was nice all the time, but especially now, when Jerry couldn't drag his eyes away from Bill's mouth-- the way his lips were stretching into a grin, the way his bottom lip was slightly cracked.
Oh wow, wait, maybe Jerry was a little too far gone.
“Bill?” Jerry mumbled.
Bill just looked up, met his eyes. Jerry made sure he was making eye contact this time.
“We can just turn on the TV and see what’s on?”
Bill’s expression smoothed out, the worried lines in his face reverting back to softness. He nodded, skirting down the steps two at a time towards the couch.
--
The only light in Bill’s basement came from the TV, bright yellows and blues flashing brightly across their faces. In contrast to the vibrant lights, the volume had been turned down to a comfortable murmur per Jerry’s request— despite the fact that Bill graciously assured him his parents wouldn’t be able to hear. They were two floors above, after all. By some miracle, he hadn’t even made fun of him for ‘being a wimp’ or whatever else.
Jerry blinked. A slow, long, blink. He felt the slight burn of his eyelids as they closed. They must’ve been watching for a solid hour or so.
Bill was right. It really was crap, but the noise was nice. Jerry found his brain drifting uncontrollably, a little dazed and all too quick to wander.
A question bubbled its way up to his brain. A weird question. One he would usually quietly keep to himself, but for some peculiar reason he found himself beyond tempted to ask it, to give a voice to his restless thoughts.
Just this once, he gave into temptation.
“Hey, Bill?”
“Hm?”
“Why’d you call me?” He left a soft emphasis on the word ‘me’. “Why not… Josh?”
“Josh?” Bill let himself laugh at that, “Really?”
He turned to look at him then, and Jerry did the same. The reflected light illuminated the curve of his cheekbone and Jerry watched the colors change, suddenly much more interested in this show than whatever was on screen. Bill’s pale skin stood out in the darkness surrounding him. Jerry felt comfortable… cozy, wrapped up in shadow.
“Of course I called you, Jer.” Somehow, he still managed to say it like Jerry was stupid for asking. “You’re…” He gestured languidly between the two of them, “You know, It’s… The two of us.”
His chestnut hazel eyes blinked at him from behind his slightly askew glasses, fingerprints smudged on the edge. They were still lazily half-lidded.
“Right.” Jerry said. It felt like something was glowing in his chest, like his rib cage was an oven set to broil and his heart was on the top rack.
“Like… Robin and Batman.” Bill smiled to himself, tilting his head so he could look at the screen again.
Jerry snorted, “Sure, Bill. You’d rock the yellow cape.”
Bill made a noise Jerry hadn’t even previously thought to be possible, some sort of strangled yelp. “I’m not fucking Robin, Jerry!”
Jerry huffed, cheeks aching with the effort of his smile, “Yeah, he is a little young for you, isn’t he?”
“Seriously shut up, Jer.” He muttered, but his grin gave him away.