[He should deck him. Billy freezes in place, all his joints locking while his eyes go wide for a moment with a wild kind of fury. His breath stutters, comes out ragged as his fingers flex into a fist.
He should throw him off. Lash out. Scream, howl, but Eddie’s chest is warm against his own, his arms feel grounding, somehow. His hair smells faintly of shampoo and mostly weed, and Billy feels a wild surge of something he thinks is hatred, but -
But his arms move slow, then his hands are clinging to the back of Eddie’s jacket-shirt-whatever. His nose is somewhere on his shoulder, and Billy thinks he might be shaking. He thinks he might be crying.
The last time someone hugged him had been a million years ago, tucked away in a California home with his Spider-Man sheets. It was his mothers hands stroking his hair, kissing his face, her arms so tight that Billy thought he’d never leave them. Then she’d left, and no one has hugged him since, realises. Not a single person, except Eddie fucking Munson.]
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He should throw him off. Lash out. Scream, howl, but Eddie’s chest is warm against his own, his arms feel grounding, somehow. His hair smells faintly of shampoo and mostly weed, and Billy feels a wild surge of something he thinks is hatred, but -
But his arms move slow, then his hands are clinging to the back of Eddie’s jacket-shirt-whatever. His nose is somewhere on his shoulder, and Billy thinks he might be shaking. He thinks he might be crying.
The last time someone hugged him had been a million years ago, tucked away in a California home with his Spider-Man sheets. It was his mothers hands stroking his hair, kissing his face, her arms so tight that Billy thought he’d never leave them. Then she’d left, and no one has hugged him since, realises. Not a single person, except Eddie fucking Munson.]