Quiet
Billy sometimes worries about his powers. He’s the first one to assure everyone that he’s fine, that he’s really not that powerful, and he’s got it under control anyway. But secretly, he’s terrified.
He’s terrified every time he says he wants something and it happens. He’s terrified every time he’s in an argument and wins. He’s terrified that what makes him happy isn’t real, and what makes him angry will make him lose his mind.
He feels trapped inside his mind, except he also feels like his mind is this ever-expanding thing as infinite as space and that’s he everywhere without being able to move, or breathe, or think.
Every thought could be pulling a trigger he didn’t know was there.
Tommy drags him out of the house on these days, when his head is reeling with every possibility that he could make real. Teddy is soft and gentle, cradles him so Billy doesn’t rock himself like a maniac. His parents smile sympathetically, though they’ll never really get it, and let him know there are hands waiting to catch him.
Tommy isn’t gentle. Tommy grabs his hand until it’s ready to burst from his socket, rambling a mile a minute about everything under the sun. He’s vibrating now. Tommy is too much, Billy is overwhelmed enough as it is, and before he can think about that gun and its invisible, ever-present trigger, Billy tells him to stop.
Billy blinks and Tommy is gone. His breath hitches, he didn’t even know he wanted that - but, then, Tommy is back. Tommy is back, shouting, “You can’t tell me what to do. I can outrun your overbearing demands!”
He loops around the pavement outside Billy’s house, back and forth, countless times in no time at all.
Billy’s head finally quiets. Tommy is right; he’s faster than everything. He’s faster than Billy’s thoughts. Tommy can never stop, and Billy isn’t a gun with an invisible trigger.
He’s just a twin, the slow one, and he’s going to be fine.