billy felt like burning.

burning slowly, inside and out, thirsting for a bloodbath. a scuffle, a riot, a war. he don't care as long as he have yours squeezed blue and mopped dry on the fucking floor.

you're a stain. a scar that would make mederma run. a tool to use and dump later like a shitty car from craiglist. he needs you, sure. you boost the group up, you better.

but.

that shitty you shouldn't growl live wires and barbs and exploding sriracha at him like this and have him rabid like a goddamn hound on meth over a usual failure, like killing homelander.

heaving huffs aggressively, he seizes you by the throat, yanking you back before you could walk off with his ego on your palm and slam you on the wall.

"fuck you."