“A lot of it is trying to impress each other,” Wentz admits. “I'll write something and think, ‘Oh, wait ‘til he sees this.’ Or I'll get a call at 1 o’clock in the morning and it's Patrick playing a riff into the phone while I'm half asleep.”
-- Alternative Press #193 (August 2004)
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"Do you ever think of me?"
The question is mumbled into the skin of his neck, where Steve's mouth is pressed.
Billy had thought Steve had fallen asleep, but. Surprise, surprise.
And it's honestly such a stupid question that he considers not answering it at all.
But, he knows better.
"Always," he murmurs, turning his head to press a sweet little kiss to Steve's forehead.
"You promise?" Steve whispers, his voice quiet and small, insecure. He gets like that, sometimes. Not as much as Billy, though.
"Cross my heart," he replies just as quietly, pressing another kiss to the bridge of Steve's nose, soothing him.
It works, if the soft little happy noise his boyfriend makes speaks for anything.
"Love doing this with you," Steve murmurs as he lifts his head, his face finally peering out from its hiding place and Billy can see that pretty face in the dark of their room.
He would know Steve's soul in the dark, just like this.
"You love doing nothing?" Billy smirks.
Steve nods, "With you."
It's so disgustingly sweet, it could almost make Billy sick.
What makes him feel worse is that he's been thinking the same thing for a while now.
Just laying here, in their bed, cuddled up and breathing has Billy beyond happy. It's peace. It's love. It's his.
It's theirs.
"Yeah," Billy whispers, turning onto his side to cup Steve's face in the dark, his lips finding that wide Cupid's bow far too easily, their noses gently bumping as he murmurs into his boyfriend's mouth, "Love doing nothing with you, too."
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