Bill Denbrough

He's barely holding it together by the time he walks through the door and shuts it behind him. He'd left Eddie in the apartment, most things explained, but a lot of things still left unsaid, promised to come back in a couple of hours. He figures they could both do with some room. He doesn't know if Gwen is home or not, and he's got no intention of falling apart in front of her...doesn't know if Neil is home or not, and can't find the voice to call for him. He shrugs out of his coat and keeps going, climbing the stairs until he's in the privacy of the suite he shares with Neil at the top of the house. Once he gets there, he sits down on the bed and buries his face in his hands. It's only a moment before his shoulders shake with a violent sob.

"Fuck," he mumbles under his breath, scrubbing at his face with the heels of his hands. "Oh, fuck me."

Bill's having a pretty trying day, to be honest. He'd freaked out, a little bit, when he woke up, and Neil had helped him to calm down, made him take deep breaths and drink a coffee and remember that it wasn't going to last forever. He'd taken a shower which had been...interesting, and then he'd put on clothes that more or less fit and he'd gone to work. His students, weirdly, had taken it in stride -- the Darrow born ones didn't even notice that there was anything amiss and the transplants, like him? Well they were used to weird shit, weren't they?

It's close to dinner time before he's letting himself back into the townhouse, shrugging out of his coat and dropping his keys on the table next to the door.

"I fucking hate this," he announces to the house as a whole. "I feel like my whole centre of balance is wrong."

To start with, the town-house had been more of a convenience than anything - somewhere with enough bedrooms, enough living space, the whole top floor to call his own so that Stan and Richie could have their own space. Now, he'd actually come to like it - his cramped office space between the bedroom and the ensuite; the weird, terraced garden, the kitchen. How lived in it felt. How his life had crept into the cracks. He likes looking around and seeing Neil's things there, mingled with his own. Even if they spend as much time at Neil's place as they do at the townhouse, he likes feeling like they're sharing space.

Letting himself in, he drops his keys on the console in the hallway.

"Hello?" he calls, picking up his post and leafing through it. "Anyone home?"

Bill's at that sweet spot, not drunk but buzzed and he wants nothing more in that moment than he wants Neil. He uses his key to open the door to Neil's apartment, nudging him through with hands and hips, kicking it shut behind him. He blindly gropes, dropping his keys in the bowl that Neil bought for him, on the table next to the door.

"God, I could fuck you right here," he says, growls, nudging Neil back against the wall.