It’s late, when the call comes, but it’s not like he was sleeping. Quirk of the superspeed, he supposes. His sleep schedule is a shitshow of passing out for random bursts whenever his body needs it- he hasn’t slept normally in years.
Or it might be the trauma, actually. Maybe he should ask Uncle P, confirm it.
But that would involve being vulnerable with another human being, so probably not.
He’s in his shitty apartment kitchen- a new place, or relatively new, because the last one just reminded him of David and it made him feel sick and awful and like he was going to vomit just being there, which is not a quality you want in an apartment -trying not to fuck up the recipe Wanda- Mom -had given him last time he’d dropped by her place for lunch. Practically forced on him, actually. He’d barely even mentioned wanting to learn to cook before she was shoving a paper into his hands, insisting he try it. It’s some Romani dish, from her childhood- shahaimasu, he thinks she’d called it? -and it had seemed really important to her, so…
Besides, he did want to learn to cook. It was sorta fun, and more importantly distracting.
Distracting was good. Distracting meant less room in his head for his own thoughts.
Anyway, the call is late, and sudden, and he nearly burns himself on the stove trying to grab his phone off the counter. The caller screen surprises him, sorta- he really isn’t expecting to see Billy’s name. Or his name in Tommy’s phone, anyway- it’s Sabrina the Teenage Bitch, for the record, although he supposes they’re old enough now that it’s not actually an accurate joke anymore. He should come up with another one.
He isn’t like, completely surprised? It’s not like he and Billy don’t talk. They talk. Sometimes. Sorta. Not as much as Tommy wants, but it’s whatever, y’know? Billy’s off being Royal Husband Of All Space, Tommy gets that he has bigger things- more important things -to deal with than his sorta-kinda-reincarnated-soul-twin. It’s fine, it is.
He doesn’t care. It’s really his fault, anyway- why would Billy bother keeping up a relationship with him when Tommy’s, well. Tommy?
So yeah. He’s sorta surprised. They do talk, just- not normally at random. At four in the morning. Or- well, Billy’s in space, so Earth four in the morning is not really applicable.
He hits accept call, putting the phone on speaker and dropping it on the counter. “Hey?”
“Hi.” Billy’s voice is quiet, hesitant. Tommy frowns.
“What’s wrong?”
“…why do you think something is wrong?”
He checks the timer for the rice and then grabs his phone to go flop across his crappy couch, kicking his legs out over the arm. “You sound like someone died, geez.” He pauses. “No one died, right? Cause-“
“No,” Billy interrupts, the word wavering and pained. “No one died. I’m- I’m fine.”
“You’re a shitty liar, that’s what you are.”
There’s a rustling sound, then Billy’s voice comes again. “I am fine, though.” He sounds like he’s been crying, ‘course, which sorta disproves that argument real fast.
“Right,” Tommy agrees, rolling his eyes as he drums his fingers on the back of the couch. “Yep. Totally believe you. Why’d you call me?”
“Can’t I just call my brother?” Billy says defensively, an edge in his voice.
Why would you want to, he wants to ask, sadness and sharp anger twisting in his stomach, but he doesn’t. “Not usually,” he replies instead. “I mean, when was the last time you did?”
A beat of silence, telling and sharp. Then Billy does something he didn’t expect- he begins to cry, soft and hiccuping, staticy over the phone. Tommy sits up quickly, panic loud in his head.
“Shit, I knew something was wrong, what-“
Billy cuts him off, his voice choked through the tears. “I’m- I’m a terrible brother, aren’t I?”
The question catches him off guard, and he fumbles for an answer, stammering out, “Wh- what- huh- no- what?”
“Fuck,” Billy whispers, his breath hitching as he speaks. “I knew it.”
“What? No, you’re not- Billy, what? No, why would you think-“
“Fuck,” Billy repeats, his voice breaking on the word. “God, Tommy, I just-“
“Billy, you’re not a terrible brother!” he snaps, jumping up so he can pace, so he can move, so the world doesn’t feel so suffocating. “Why would you think-“
“I left you,” Billy confesses, “over and over again and I didn’t even try to stay and I wanted to love you, I did, but I messed up and I didn’t love you right and I left and-“
“Billy!” His shout stops his brother’s desperate spiral, loud in the quiet of the night. “Billy, what happened?” he demands, the words choking his throat so painfully he almost doesn’t manage them. “Please.”
His twin’s breathing is ragged, intercut with hiccuping sobs, but eventually he whispers, “I miss Earth. I miss home, Tommy, and I miss you.”
The words feel like a punch to the gut, and he stops moving, stop running, just- listens. “Billy-“
“And- and I thought Teddy did too but I don’t- I don’t think he does, Tommy, I don’t think he wants to go back, but I want to go back so badly-“
“Billy, please don’t-“
“And I miss home, and I miss my family, and fuck, I miss you, I miss being your brother, and I’m so fucking lonely in space, Tom, I am so fucking lonely here and I know I have Teddy but he’s all I have and he has an empire to run and I am so alone and- fuck, Tommy, I want to come home.”
“Billy,” he breathes out, feeling the sharp sting of tears and shit, he can’t breathe, it’s so hard to breathe when you’re crying- “Billy, please- pleasedon’tsaythat!”
His brother inhales shakily, and Tommy grabs the phone and turns it off speaker because the night is too big and loud in his lonely, shitty apartment and he just knows it’ll swallow Billy’s quiet and painful truth up because that’s what it’s always done to him and he is so, so tired of being alone and maybe if he presses his twin’s voice close to his ear it’ll be a secret that the two of them can keep together and the night won’t be so empty and haunting and empty.
“Why?” Billy whispers, and now it’s his turn to choke back tears, to try and force out the words that have been building in his throat for so long it hurts, since David left or maybe since Billy left him for space or maybe even when Cassie died and everyone left or maybe the truth is something more raw, maybe the truth is that he has always been empty and alone, maybe he was always stuck reaching for people who wouldn’t reach for him.
But now Billy is.
Billy is.
And Tommy reaches back.
“Because- because if you-“ He stops. Starts again. He thinks his rice might be burning- it could not matter less. “If you say that, then- thenI’llprobablyadmitthatI’mlonelytoo.”
Billy’s voice is hesitant, a murmur of “You are?” and he laughs despite himself, the sound thick with tears.
“Fuck, Billy. I am so fucking lonely. I am so fucking lonely and I miss you so bad.”
“Oh,” Billy breathes, and he laughs again expect it’s more like a sob and he collapses on his shitty, lonely couch and drops his head on his knees, squeezing his phone tightly.
“I miss you. I want you to come home. I want- I wish we were closer. I wish that I was brave enough to try and achieve that. I wish-“ He pauses, closing his eyes as he admits, “I wish I’d done everything differently. Except I can’t pinpoint what I did wrong, why I’m so lonely, and I think the problem might just be me and even if I went back I’dstillendupalone.”
Billy’s crying, on the other end, hard and tired and it hurt to hear, it does, and they’re twins but Billy is still his baby brother and he wishes so badly he could take the pain away and just make them- okay. “I- oh god, I just- Tommy, are we brothers?”
“What?”
“We aren’t- we aren’t very good at being b- brothers.”
“No,” he says after a moment, because it’s the truth and it hurts but that doesn’t make it less true. “No. We aren’t very good at all.”
“I wanna be better,” Billy whispers, and maybe that’s the truth too, and his chest aches.
“Y- you do?”
“Yeah,” Billy chokes out. “I- I really do. I want to be your brother, Tommy. I’m- I’m sorry that I…”
“It’s okay.”
“No. It’s not, Tom-“
“Billy,” he murmurs, “it’s okay. I’m forgiving you. Isn’t that what- that’s what family does, right?”
“Yeah,” Billy manages after a moment, his voice thick. “I- yeah. It is.” Then, hesitantly, “We are family, aren’t we?”
“I want to be your brother, Billy. I’m choosing that.” He swallows, his throat tight, and adds softly, “Maybe we- maybe we won’t be… lonely. Since we- we’ve got each other, right?”
Billy sobs, but he thinks it’s a- that it’s better crying, now. That maybe it doesn’t hurt so much.
He hopes, anyway.
“I- yeah. We’ve got- we’ve got each other.” Billy stops, then adds brokenly, “I miss Earth. Teddy said we could visit more, but I don’t think- I don’t think he understands. I want to come home, Tommy.”
“You should.”
“What?”
“You should,” he repeats, standing. “You should come visit. Me, Billy, come visit me. Please.”
“I- now?”
“You sound like you could use a hug,” he whispers softly. “So- yeah. Now. I- I’m making dinner. Late diner. Early breakfast. I’m cooking a recipe of Mom’s. Do you want to- try it? Maybe?”
Billy hesitates, then-
The flash of blue surprises him, sending him stumbling back into the couch, and then-
There’s his brother, eyeliner down his face in a smudged black mess, his hair unbrushed and in a loose old tee with a Star Trek graphic on the front, the galaxy patterned legs of his suit poking out beneath. He tucks one foot behind the other nervously, twisting his hands in the hem of his shirt as he avoids Tommy’s eyes. “Hey,” he says after a moment.
“Hi,” Tommy manages in reply. “Can I-“
Billy’s eyes dart to him, confusion and panic creeping into his gaze. “What?”
“CanIhugyou?” he stammers out, the words running into each other, and Billy’s eyes widen.
“Please do.”
His brother is real, beneath his touch, solid and real and here, for him, and he pulls him into a hug before Billy can even react, burying his face against his twin’s shoulder as he squeezes him tightly. Billy startles, then relaxes into the touch, his hands awkwardly darting up to cling to Tommy’s hoodie, his brother’s tears hot against his shoulder.
“Hi,” he whispers.
“I missed you,” Billy replies, and Tommy nods and doesn’t let go.
“Yeah. I did too.”