[maidstone] stars in still water { kill / phil }

APRIL 2004
11:54 pm

thread cw: underage drunkenness, drug use

— CRACK —

The pair disappeared from a cold, dark, grassy place and reappeared in another.

Billie stumbled slightly, her shoulder bumping his, but their hands remained interlinked, so she steadied herself quickly. She exhaled the breath she’d been holding as she straightened up, her free hand instinctively smoothing the soft material of her dress, then tucking some hair behind her right ear. She could see the house from here; they were far enough away that there wasn’t anyone around, but it was so dark tonight that the house was like a beacon, impossible to miss.

The music was quite muffled at this distance, but she knew that it would be so much louder when they were across the field. Merlin, she hoped the others were still having fun. She’d already started to feel quite guilty for leaving them all — not that she thought she was particularly needed for anyone to have a good time or anything, but — it was her responsibility as a host to stay and make sure everyone was happy. And she’d shirked that to look after herself instead, and it didn’t sit quite right with her.

Billie wondered how late it was, but she was a little apprehensive about that, too; he had no idea how long she’d been gone for, or how long they had left before the party would be over. She felt tired, so emotionally drained, so ready to be elsewhere. Maybe tomorrow she'd be able to talk to Kendrick about it all, if she could overcome her shame at how messy she'd gotten.

“Um, thank you again,” She said gently as they started to walk, their steps slow. She wasn’t sure how close to the house Phillip would come but she definitely wouldn’t make him go much closer. Maybe just a few more steps, even, and then she’d say goodnight. The grass was damp and it tickled her ankles as she walked. She tried not to sound too emotional when she spoke. “I’m really grateful,” she added sincerely, realising belatedly that she was still holding his hand. She slipped her hand from his smoothly, tucking more hair behind her ear on her left, then clasped both of her hands together in front of her.

Returning to the Maidstone house with Billie brought a lot of emotions into focus for Phillip. Too many all at once, really, but that seemed to be the running theme of the night. On the surface, Phillip was worried about bringing her back here and instantly annoyed by the sounds of the party. Phillip was still sure that it had been the Gryffindors who pressured her into having a party in the first place. And then, naturally, he assumed they had gotten her drunk and abandoned her, and that was why she had messaged him. Though, there was more to it than just his constant irritation for her “new” friends. (They were not new anymore, but Phillip still thought of them as such.)

Coming back to Maidstone again was like a punch to the stomach. A mix of nostalgia and longing, right to his gut, and it hurt. When he had come to her earlier in the night, Phillip had apparated into her dark room, and they had apparated out in less than a minute. The wizard had not had time to think about where he was, or about all the memories he had of Billie’s attic bedroom, or how he missed her. He realized where he was now, and it was like a bright reminder of exactly how much he had lost. It was like a physical thing shining a light on the fact that Billie was gone. Seeing Maidstone lit up like a lighthouse now, Phillip felt like he was being drawn toward a siren song. Nothing good was going to come from being here.

Billie’s fingers were still interlaced with his, and Phillip felt another pang of something as he thought about how easily their hands fit together, even with the height difference. Some things had always been easy for them. Every step added another emotion. That feeling in his gut toiled on, morphing into sadness and then guilt for all the little bits of anger tonight had etched away. As if he had broken his own rules by not hating her after what she did. Phillip was already beating himself up for what had happened tonight and for that little part in the back of his mind that hoped it would happen again.

“You’re welcome,” he said quietly and looked away when Billie pulled her hand from his. He did not want her to see the frown on his face; he did not want the frown to be there in the first place. Phillip hated how many conflicting things he could feel at one time now, and it was entirely her fault. He wanted to hide behind one emotion, so the world made sense again instead of this confusing mess of things. He did not want to leave, Phillip was desperate to find a reason to stay around here a little longer, but he did not want to be here either; every step toward the Maidstone house reminded him of that.

Killian was well stoned, and antsy.

He had excused himself from Jari's circle, feeling a little nauseous and paranoid, and paranoid that everyone could tell her was nauseous, and then nauseous about the paranoia. Someone from the house had brought him some water, which he had drunk, and then he had gone for a walk. Going for a walk was a production – Killian had stared straight ahead for about five minutes, freaking out some people he didn't know, while he ran through the best math he could on whether cops (magical or otherwise) would show up and arrest them all for smoking grass.

He eventually concluded that they wouldn't, and went for a walk. The cool spring air was helping him clear his mind, and it was quieter. He could hear the wind in the grass, felt it on his cheeks. Quiet, lovely quiet –

— CRACK —

Killian turned around, slowly, squinting at the dark at the two figures that had appeared there. Who the hell?

A errant beam of moonlight reflected off of soft, blonde hair. Oh. And next to her, taller, holding her hand so she had to tug it away – Oh. Killian's eyes widened with alarm. Phillip Donnelly was here. Phillip Donnelly was here with Billie. Billie was out here in the dark and not back at the house.

Killian dashed through the grass, vaguely aware he was stomping noisily through the grass and not caring. "Billie!" he cried, only slowing down so he wouldn't collide into her side. "Jesus Christ where were you I thought you were back at the house," Killian's words were coming out fast in one breath, but there was a hitching pause to look at Phillip, "why is he here are you okay did he hurt you Billie did he hurt you." Killian hadn't brought his wand tonight (what was the point, they weren't allowed magic outside of school), but if Phillip thought he could show up and take advantage after everything – well. Killian gave Phillip a red-eyed glare.

They took a couple more steps and Billie found herself slowing, unwilling to make him walk her all the way up to the house (even if she wasn't yet ready to say goodnight). She’d already asked so much, had already been so demanding and burdensome, and that was only talking about tonight, specifically. She could walk the rest of the way herself. “I mean it,” she said quietly, hoping that Phillip felt it right in his chest like she did. If nothing else, she at least hoped he really understood how appreciative she was. The blonde tugged on the edge of her sleeve, aware that she should probably take his jacket off now but swimming in reluctance to do so.

She heard the footsteps before she heard her name, but once it had left his lips, she knew immediately who was running towards them. Billie froze. Why was he running? Had something happened? She looked back at Phillip, then away, frowning in the direction of the footsteps. For a brief moment, her mind spun pictures of house fires and Law Enforcement and teens involved in some kind of drunk, magical mishaps. So many terrible things had probably happened, why had she left the party? Billie’s heart was racing again. Why was Killian so far out from the house?

“Did—?” He cut her off. Where were you — she knew she should have been at the house, she couldn’t stop the sinking feeling. Dread. Panic. Killian always spoke with a kind of urgency, but right now it was especially jarring — “What’re you…?” Billie couldn’t get a word in; she fell quiet and let him speak, her lips slightly parted, brow furrowed.

She might have missed half of what he said, he was talking so quickly. The point was made, though. “No, no,” Billie said, shaking her head. She wanted to circle back to the: where were you — so she could know if she needed to get Kendrick, or do something. It didn’t occur to her that it was her he was worried about, rather than some awful thing that had happened at the house. She glanced at Phillip, following Killian’s gaze, then looked back at Ki. “No, I asked him here,” she said, moving a clumsy half-step in front of her ex, trying to get Ki to meet her eyes instead of looking over her head. She felt especially small with them both here like this.

There was a second, a tiny sliver of time when Phillip thought he might have imagined Billie slowing down. That she was pausing because she did not want to leave him yet, or that she didn't want to go back to the party, or that maybe she'd tell him every single word that would make him forgive her and things would be good again. But then Billie spoke, and Phillip was back in reality. He nodded at her words, understanding more than he wanted to, and realized she had slowed down to indicate she did not want him to follow her up to the house, probably because her friends were there.

A part of him knew he should have expected that, but nothing made any sense tonight. Two hours ago, he was sitting at Marin's trying to figure out how to avoid the 3Spelled Final Concert, and now he was dropping off the girl who had broken his heart, owled him during a panic attack, and then kissed him in the middle of the forest. It all felt like a dream. Like something his mind had cooked up to torture him. Phillip was not sure what to believe, he did not know where they stood now, but he did know one thing. If this were all some part of his imagination, he sure as hell would not have included Killian Buckley.

Phillip heard the rushed steps coming toward them when Billie did, and he tensed up instinctually. Killian jumped right to conclusions, and Phillip clenched his jaw tightly. He could practically smell the alcohol coming off of Killian. This sort of drama was the very last thing Phillip wanted to deal with right now. Killian asked questions, and Billie tried to answer, but the drunk fifth year kept cutting her off, and Phillip didn't like it. "Did he hurt you." Killian had said, and Billie stepped in front of Phillip or between the wizards; either way, it was the same place.

"She owled me." He reiterated, even though he didn't want to acknowledge Killian at all. Phillip was quiet, but he was far from intimidated. In Phillip's mind, Killian was the one who had messed up tonight.  Killian had gotten Billie drunk and then abandoned her; Billie had thrown a house party and then called her ex-boyfriend; Phillip had only answered the call and tried to help.

"You asked him here," Killian repeated, disbelief saturating his tone. She owled me, said Phillip, and Killian wanted nothing more than to strangle the older boy. He could do it, he was sure – he was just as tall, if not taller, and right now he certainly felt stronger.

Billie stepped in between them – not that it mattered much, she was a foot shorter than both of the boys. Killian kept glaring at Phillip, but something shifted in his expression, in his feelings. Something hurt. It took him a moment to place the feeling for what it was – betrayal. Oh.

Sober Killian would have stomped that out immediately. But Sober Killian wasn't here. He wiped his palms, suddenly sweaty, on the sides of his grass stained jeans.

He looked from Billie to Phillip, from blonde to blond, from white girl to white boy, lead sinking in his stomach. "But. Why." It wasn't really a question. "Why him." Why him after everything he put you through, Killian didn't say. Why him when you had a house full of friends to help you, he didn't say. Why the one person in the world guaranteed to hurt you, Killian didn't say. "We were there. I was there."

“Yes,” Billie said firmly, still feeling that overwhelming sense of urgency tugging at her. She wanted to look at the house, look at Phillip — it was taking far too much energy to try to bring her tired, drunk self to the present. Her eyes didn’t leave Killian’s, though and she willed him to look at her. She felt incredibly on edge, incredibly scattered. A cold breeze was blowing, tousling her hair, and there was grass tickling her bare ankles, but Billie didn't notice any of it; the social, emotional landscape was far more demanding than the physical one right now.

“What?” Billie breathed, frowning with disbelief. She felt hurt, too, but she wasn't sure why. Maybe she felt like she was being accused of something. Why him? Why did he think? It seemed so obvious to her; Phillip still knew her better than anyone, still cared enough to have come. (Was sober, she added rationally, belatedly, to the list). What would Killian have done if he’d found her, out of breath and crying? He’d never seen her like that before — not in that way. Billie tucked her hair back behind both of her ears, her hands lingering by her face, her expression stressed.

Their words overlapped a bit.

“No, it wasn’t—”

We were there.

"I didn’t just invite him—"

— I was there

"I — No,” Billie said, answering that last part in particular. No, he wasn't there. She didn’t mean it to come out with accusation — it was so unlike her to be accusatory, but she felt hurt and emotional, too, and past her lips it sounded the same. She amended her words. “I mean, I couldn’t find you. You guys.” Those last two words were an afterthought, tacked on for Phillip or something, she wasn’t sure; of course it had been Ki who she’d looked for first.

“I was just…” She didn’t have the words for it, didn’t want it to sound more dramatic than it was. She exhaled a frustrated sigh, made a small gesture that was something like a shrug.

"Why him." Phillip's jaw clenched a little tighter; a need to explain the situation was rising in his chest. He didn't care that Billie's friends hated him, Phillip never had, and honestly, he felt the same way, but he didn't like how Killian had asked that. As if Killian expected to be her first call and Billie had been wrong to reach out to Phillip. Yes, they were broken up, and Phillip hadn't expected to hear from Billie either, but he'd been there the second she reached out, Phillip had been there, not Killian. Some twisted part of Phillip couldn't help but feel a little bit of unhealthy, selfish satisfaction knowing Billie had needed him, and Killian hadn't been there.

Billie never said things like No, at least not how she had replied to Killian, and Phillip noticed it. They were both drunk, filters were pretty much nonexistent now, and Phillip wasn't sure how to feel about being the most rational person here. "I mean, I couldn't find you. You guys." This was tougher to swallow as Phillip realized that he hadn't been her first call. Of course, he hadn't been; he'd assumed that already, and why would he have been? But it was worse hearing her say it out loud.

"I was just…" Billie was so gentle about it, but Phillip did not share her need for polite conversation. "She had a panic attack, and you weren't fucking there." He said after Billie's pause, eager to jump in, anxious to tell Killian off for abandoning her. "You lot got her drunk, threw a party at her house, and then what?" Phillip didn't care about what the Gryffindor had done next, but from the look of Killian, whatever it was, it was a lot of it.

They were cutting over each other, words clipping on the heels of each other. "We were there"–I didn’t just invite him— "I was there–" No, said Billie with astounding forcefulness. Killian's jaw snapped shut, looking at the girl with wide, hurt eyes. She looked, she said. She couldn't find them, she said. "I don't understand," Killian said, quiet and low. How could that be true? When in the whole party had he left the house before now, when had he been outside of shouting distance? When could he have possibly been so preoccupied that he wouldn't have noticed Billie calling for him?

He noticed the way she tagged on the generalization, and his heart sunk more. So she was embarrassed of him. Okay. "Shit, Billie," Killian began, ducking down to try and see her better, "I'm sorry–"

Phillip deigned to comment now, voice full of acid. She had a panic attack, and you weren't fucking there. "Neither were you," Killian snapped without thinking. He wasn't thinking well, generally. "You had to come rescue her, didn't you, but you weren't here either. You abandoned her back over Christmas." He drew back up to his fully height, bloodshot eyes narrowed and angry. "Us lot have been trying to cheer her up all term, picking up the broken pieces you left behind and the dealing with the gossip you started about her." Got her drunk was bothering him a little. A lot. He couldn't think of anything to say on that, so Killian just glowered.

Billie winced when Phillip spoke. Her focus had been so acute for a moment, tuned so specifically to the task of making Ki understand what she was saying that she’d half forgotten Phillip was standing behind her. She felt confused about what she wanted to say, confused about who she wanted to tell to calm down (including herself! Her stress was making her sick!), but she knew that she didn’t want them to fight. Killian had appeared out of nowhere with accusations falling from his lips — clearly the aggressor —  but it felt like Phillip was using her emotional stress as a weapon to hurt the other boy, and she didn’t like that either. It wasn’t fair; she didn’t need him to explain, she wasn’t at any sort of risk here that required protective mitigating.

But he wasn’t stopping.

“Phillip,” Billie said, turning to him, still frowning. Her heart thrummed demandingly in her chest, and she felt twisted up again, so nervous and uncomfortable right in the middle of this aggressive energy. There was no conversational space to protest — she didn’t know for certain it was a ‘panic attack’ (it was), she didn’t know what that even was exactly, and it hadn’t been nearly as bad as it sounded when he said it like that (it had), and, and she’d been excited for the party, no one had forced her, and —

And she’d felt for a moment, that she might be able to contain all of this, if she’d just stayed focused for long enough to explain —

“Ki, don’t,” Billie said, turning back to him quickly, shaking her head. Her tone was halfway between pleading and warning. She didn’t want to talk about Christmas, didn’t want any of that to come up. “Don’t,” she repeated, but she didn’t really feel like either of them were listening to her. It was all slipping away from her.

Phillip should have heard Billie say his name; he should have understood the tone of her voice and left it alone. He had no business being here anymore. Billie was home, and she was begging them to stop, but it was hard to hear with Killian’s accusations ringing in his head. Like bells that never stopped. Why him? Did he hurt you? Phillip should have known better than to bring her back to this party. He should have just dropped her off at Kendrick’s instead.

And even though he knew better, and he should have ignored Killian, Phillip struggled to stay calm. He felt tense, his blood thumping in his ears. Every time Killian spoke, his cheeks felt hotter. “It’s called a breakup, not abandonment.” Phillip returned quickly and took a silent breath. What did Killian know about abandonment anyway? He had probably never lost anything in his entire life.

Billie spoke again, but then, so did Killian, and Phillip’s eyes remained on the taller wizard. Phillip hadn’t expected her friends to think anything good about him after the breakup. That wasn’t how these things traditionally worked. And honestly, the less they knew, the better. Phillip didn’t want them to know anything about him. He wasn’t sure what Billie had told her friends about the breakup, and hell, maybe she had blamed everything on him, but Phillip knew the truth. And the reality was a lot messier. It wasn’t all his fault or hers, but it wasn’t like he had cheated on her or decided to break up on a whim. Billie broke his heart first.

“You should stop talking about things you don’t understand.” If there was gossip, it was because Phillip hadn’t told anyone anything, and the rumor mill had filled the empty spaces. Phillip hadn’t said a damn thing because that would have opened up doors to questions he wasn’t going to answer. Billie betrayed him, keeping secrets for years; it had less to do with who her parents were and everything to do with the fact that he had trusted her and she lied.

Ki, don’t. Billie's voice was on the edge of her hearing. Killian tried to listen to it, tried to hold onto it. He didn't need to get into a fight with Donnelly, he needed to help Billie, make up for not being there before when he had promised he would be there. "Alright," he muttered softly, looking at Billie and giving her a quiet nod. "Let's go back to the house, we could both use some water –"

It’s called a breakup, not abandonment. Phillip said, as if that made everything better. Killian could hear the condescension on his lips, wanted to smack it out of Phillip's mouth. He whirled back around to face him, face hot. "Not when you do it!" Killian shot back, voice rising.  "You pulled her away from everyone, made yourself her whole world–" Phillip kept talking over Killian, over his very salient point that Phillip had not been good for Billie, had wanted Billie all to himself at the expense of her own friendships, it didn't take a Ravenclaw genius to see that.

You should stop talking about things you don’t understand. Killian's nostrils flared.

"– so yes it’s abandonment when you do it, the fuck do I not understand?" The second thought slid onto the tail end of the previous, all commas and filters fully worn down by alcohol and weed and nearly a year of keeping his damn mouth shut when it came to Phillip Donnelly. "The fuck do you think I don't understand? When Billie told me I fucking listened and worked to understand and you threw her away, like every other act of devotion didn't count for shit!" The curse words felt sour in his mouth. The moment around him felt sour. It was all going sour.

Alright. A small mercy.

Billie didn’t want to go back to the house yet; she wanted to say goodnight to Phillip, but clearly whatever moment they might have had was long gone. She needed to talk to Killian — needed and wanted to — but maybe they could do it in a minute, stay out here for a little bit after Phillip had left, separately, and he could calm down a bit. The separateness was an important element —

— You pulled her away from everyone, made yourself her whole world —

This one struck a crash cymbal on the way in; Billie stared at him, her lips slightly parted in shock, frown firmly in place. He just had no... idea. None. She felt — felt something in response to those words in particular. It wasn’t frustration or anger, but there was an unexpected sharpness to the hurt she already felt in her chest, an edge that made her want to demand his attention. His view was so twisted, she thought, so wrong. Billie had known Phillip first, had cared about him first. And she’d made him her world! Or at the very least they’d done it to each other, and how could it have gone any other way! There were reasons their relationship was so intense that didn’t have anything do with their age, or Phillip’s “lack of care” or whatever. Killian had no idea; Phillip was right.

“Killian,” she said, but her voice was smaller than it needed to be.

Billie was properly in the middle now, unwilling to let there be a direct path from one stupidly-taller-than-her boy to the other. Of course, it hurt her more like this, to be right in the middle. It was loudest — literally and figuratively — right here. The others wouldn’t understand; she had no idea what it felt like to be that comfortable taking up space, even drunk as she was. Ki wasn’t looking at her.

When Billie told me —

No.

She looked at Phillip over her shoulder immediately, stricken despite herself (knowing exactly what he’d infer, and exactly what he’d feel) then spun back to Ki.

And then everyone was speaking at once.

“Stop, please,” she pleaded, hearing Phillip’s question about what Killian was referring to overlap her plea. She felt so frustratingly quiet, compared to both of them.

Billie had been facing Killian for most of this, but she turned to her ex properly now. Her words came out rushed. “Phillip maybe, maybe you should go —” she stammered, trying urgently to make him look at her. She said maybe, but her tone was pleading, “— We'll talk later, I’ll write to you —"

Killian's accusations felt like a razor that kept skimming more and more off Phillip's nerves. Each one cut a little bit deeper, each one hurting a little bit more. Phillip told himself he did not care what Killian thought, and that was partly true, but it was also just another lie. Phillip did not care if Killian liked him, but he hated that Killian thought Phillip had treated Billie terribly. It was not as if the breakup had been sweet, simple, and friendly, but Phillip had not intentionally hurt her. He had not "made himself her whole world" and then set everything on fire…. Had he?
 
In Phillip's mind, Billie had become his whole world; he was the one who was left with nothing when they broke up. She still had her friends; she had fucking Killian and all the others to help her through it. In his mind, Phillip had lost his best friend while Billie had made room for new ones.

The seventh year told Killian to stop talking, but the urge to try and make him was building. Killian kept going, kept acting as if Phillip was the only one who had done something wrong, and Phillip hated that he wanted to change his mind. What good would that do? He did not honestly want to turn Billie's friends against her, not that that was even a remote possibility, but he did wonder how it affected Billie. Did she go along with it when Killian hammered on about how wrong Phillip had been for her? Or did she try to defend him? Phillip wondered if he was even worth defending.

" When Billie told me—" Phillip's mind went blank, cleared out in an instant to make room for all the paranoia and anger that was rushing in. His eyes turned to Billie, she had spun around to look at him, and his heart sank. She was talking, and so was Killian, but Phillip was not listening to either of them now. "When Billie told you what?" He asked over both, everyone's words mixing and overlapping; it was a mess. Nothing else Killian said mattered, but Billie was looking at him again, and Phillip bit his tongue. " Phillip, maybe you should go…" Her words were soft, as kind as ever, even if they were a little slurred, but Phillip shook his head. No, Killian had brought it up, and Phillip was not walking away from answers this time.

"No, tell me, when Billie told you what?" He insisted, blinded by his jealousy and emotions, to understand what this was doing to Billie. If Phillip were a little more levelheaded or a little less self-involved, maybe he would have realized they were essentially pitting her in the middle of them. That Billie was the one who was going to get hurt the most from this. Had she told Killian her secret first? Had she trusted him more than Phillip? The teenager should have been paying more attention to Billie, to her promise to write him later, but Killian's words blindsided him. Even if it were not his secret to tell, Phillip felt like he had been punched in the gut, thinking she might have told Killian first.

No, tell me, when Billie told you what? Killian had heard him, but hadn't understood what Phillip was asking until his own barrage of words had slowed to a stop. He was too concerned with getting his own words, hot and sharp and painful, off of his tongue and out of his head. It all felt evil to say, harsh and unkind and sharp, but it also felt true, and right, and necessary to say. It felt almost like relief, to take Phillip Donnelly to task like this. Finally.

He licked his lips, dry from the smoke and sticky from the beer, sucking in a shallow breath. "Like you don't know," he said, slower, meaner, heart hammering in his chest. He was still high – he had to concentrate on enunciating every syllable, so Phillip couldn't say he hadn't heard Killian right, that Killian was inarticulate. He wasn't stupid, Ravenclaws be damned – if Phillip thought that he could get Killian to break his promise to keep Billie's secret, he had another thing coming. Besides. Everyone here know everyone else knew.

Both of the boys were about the same height. It was easy to meet Phillip's gaze. Killian's jaw jutted out, harsh and defiant. "All you wizards are the same," he said. It wasn't deliberate, the words were just falling off his tongue like everything else, but his voice was lower, and slower, and it sounded more carefully crafted. "Obsessed with bloodlines. You can't inherit the crimes of your parents, you know that, right?" His neck was stiff, his fingers cold. Killian tilted his head to one side, curling his hands into fists and then relaxing them by his sides.