life had always been quite so marvelously simple for behzad and parisa kassar, their union one of adoration, friendship, and a mutual agreement that breakfast for dinner would always hold as one of life's greatest treasures. having built their home in a meager two bedroom apartment more than an hour's walk from the nearest station, the couple made no complaint in welcoming the unexpected arrival of their first child by suddenly shifting their lives and their belongings. his books were tucked into boxes and her paints neatly arranged beneath the bed to make room for the crib, toys, and screaming terror that was bilal. but, peaceable as they were, they'd only regarded the tales of their fussy son with quiet amusement. of course their quiet home would suddenly grow loud, that's how life always went.

growing up, billy inherited his parents' interests; calling for those books and paints to be dragged out from their storage and put to proper use. he read frequently and sketched often, losing himself to fantastical worlds of make-believe. more often than not billy would busy himself on grand adventures, fighting villains only he could see, skidding across the grass and bouncing out of trees as though he might be invincible. and while his parents encouraged his imaginative passion, the general populace did not receive him quite as well. school became a burden early on as he suffered the weight of youths unwilling to embrace his individuality so easily. they teased and taunted at the start, merely jabbing under his skin with emotional torment. but the older he got and they older they got the dilemma escalated past words and into the physical.

all of which was surely only exasperated further when, in the twilight of his high school years, billy addressed the matter of his budding sexuality by further proving he did not fit the mold. in return, however, their escalated aggression following this only went on to inspire billy. tired of their abuse, and no longer content with feeling guilty for what he could neither control nor change, he confronted their attacks with a strength that was certainly more bark than bite but earned him back his pride just the same. his mother even could not hide her smile behind her lectures, icing his bruises with some quiet relief that her son was no doormat.

a moment he'd forever cherish bittersweetly.

it'd been during his senior year, between prepping for university and bickering over whether or not he ought to have been considered a man, that the kassar home had been broken into. the intruders must not have expected them to be home as their surprise turned to panic. hopeful, billy had thought they might manage to make it out unscathed, his father promising to give everything of value up without question and his mother already plucking her jewelry from herself. but one wrong move and a too stressed thief with a loaded gun resulted in the tragedy that took parisa's life. everything shifted into a whirring, twisting blur thereafter. billy could hardly comprehend all that was happening. not when the police arrived, not as he rode alongside his mother in the ambulance, not even when she let go of his hand and gave out. the culprits were never caught but it didn't matter, the damage had already been done.

the kassar household was quiet and depressed, both men struggling to even so much as allow themselves to grieve properly. behzad eventually did (for his son's sake, he swore) but billy spent years systematically isolating himself. school became his only priority, something to distract himself from the tragedy he did not want to accept. it was not until after he graduated, with nothing else to busy himself with, did billy finally have to address his grief and depression.

with his eyes set on something new to start fresh, billy made the move to a city that had, without any rhyme or reason, called to him for a long, long while. only to find new york was nothing like he expected and quickly returned home with his tale between his legs and his ego more than slightly bruised. back home, in boston, he went on to take up occupation as an illustrator and a freelance animator (putting that art degree to good use), though he keeps an application to the local bookstore taped to his fridge just in case. or at least that's what he tells anyone that should ask to save face and keep from having to admit that he really wouldn't be put off by such a thing.

visits home are infrequent now despite only mere miles between them, though he regularly reminds his dad that his door is always open, and for the most part billy has resolved that he's finally somewhat content with where he is both in life and location. eyes are on the horizon.