Chapter Text
December 3rd 2025.
I don’t know what i’m supposed to feel. Am I even supposed to feel anything? I don’t think my brain knows how it’s supposed to take everything that’s happened. I’m so angry at everything but i’m so grateful I dont know what i’m doing. It’s not good. im not good.
Will puts the pen back on his desk.
What a fucking life.
So it’s come to this. His therapist has given him the ‘task’ (homework) of writing in a diary every time he feels like he’s going crazy. She didn’t put it quite like that, but it’s basically what she was saying. He feels crazy. This life he’s living now feels crazy. If he’s being totally honest he doesn’t want it. His skin feels too tight all the time. Sleep is non existent and when he does all he gets is four hours max. And yet he feels selfish.
Selfish? Yeah, selfish is a fitting word.
Because he’s not the only one grieving. But fuck. He highly doubts anyone else feels like they’ve lost their arms, their legs, their mind. And that’s what makes him selfish. Those exact thoughts.
Brrr. Brrr. His phone screen lights up from the other end of the bed. He picks it up, squinting.
1 New Message. George C.
Will sighs. It’s effort to speak to people.
fancy a pint? on me x
No. Yes? He’s not sure. He can just about leave the apartment twice a week, maybe three. He leans back against his chair. It’s 6:27 in the evening, which isn’t bad but with a look out of his window he can work out it’s freezing from the frost on the corners of the glass. And his legs hurt. And he looks like shit. And his hair feels oily. Can he be assed?
He pulls the phone up, thumbs ready to type a response.
Probs not this time lad
Not good enough.
Im not feeling the best today
Said that last week.
Hey man can we do another time?
Said that approximately a million times. Fuck. This is hard.
Brrr. Brrr.
Will’s brows furrow at the follow up text.
if you don’t come i’m just going to break in x
A little smile sneaks on his face, only little.
With another sigh, Will types a message to confirm he’ll be there, just might take him a while since he definitely has to shower. The smell he’s been emitting lately is far from roses. George reads it and replies instantly with a bunch of happy faces and the pub name he’s at. Not too far on foot which is brilliant because he was not about to get a cab, dealing with nonsense chit chat to fill the silence the whole drive wasn’t something Will was willing to do tonight.
His drawers were scarce of clothes, Will realises as he rummages through them for at least one nice shirt. The only options are a plain black one or a disgustingly yellow one with writing on the back. Absolutely not. Black it is!
No music suits this shower, so it’s silent. It’s quick and just the basics; shampoo once and body wash on the main areas. But hey! at least he’s actually washed.
Still at the same place? Will sends a text as soon as he’s dried and dressed. George takes a couple minutes the reply, but Will really, genuinely doesn’t mind.
yup! see you here in ten?
Ten minutes was cutting it close. Will half-heartedly tied up his laces and chucked on a beanie and scarf, all black. And left.
It took Will fifteen minutes to get to the pub George was waiting for him at, but his friend didn’t seem to notice.
“Wayy! Here he is!” George shouts from a table as Will walks through the heavy wooden doors.
A very bad feeling settles at the bottom of Wills stomach as he realises George wasn’t alone. At the table sat Chris and Harry. How nice of them to show up.
“It’s me,” Will pulls up a chair opposite George, plopping himself down next to Harry.
Chris gives George a concerned look but Will chooses to ignore it.
“What you having?” George starts to get his wallet out.
“Oh, erm,” Will can’t quite tell what the other boys are drinking so he opts for something safe. “Amstel?”
“Amstel it is!” George over cheerfully stands up and heads to the bar.
Taking his coat off to put it on the back of the chair, Will prays in his head that no one makes this awkward. He hasn’t seen anyone in weeks, and hopes there’s no mention of it. “It’s freezing outside.” He states.
Chris snorts, “It is December, Mate.”
True.
“You look wrapped up though to be fair.” Harry gestures to his scarf and beanie.
”Nah, still got through. My balls feel like they might not be there anymore.” Will confesses, they all laugh.
And it’s nice. It really is nice, and Will feels some regret for not seeing them sooner. He should’ve. Maybe they could’ve stopped him needing a therapist.
“One pint for you, good sir.”
A pint was placed in front of him and he had half forgot he even ordered one. “Cheers.”
Their conversation continued in an easy, calm fashion for the next couple hours, not once becoming awkward. They all got a round each, and Chris very loudly objected to Harry’s idea of buying shots. Even if it was a deal of five for a tenner. Which really upset Harry. No one had mentioned James yet, and that was perfectly fine with Will because the buzz he was feeling from the alcohol could go one of two ways.
“I literally,” Harry slurs his words, “don’t think i’ve been this buzzed off beer in a loooong time.”
Chris giggles, in an actual girly way. “That’s because you don’t go out really anymore.”
“No no,” George cuts in, pint swaying in his hand. “I agree I also feel it quite a bit. And we’ve only had what… five?”
Wrong. “Eight.” Will interjects, just now registering his tongue isn’t working quite the same as it did when he first arrived.
They all share a look then burst into laughter. Who has eight drinks on a Wednesday? To be totally fair to himself, Will only had a bit of toast and scrambled egg today. In fact, that’s about all the amount he’s eating lately anyway. His belly is getting smaller and smaller. And apparently his bladder is also tiny! “I have to piss.” He says, and gets up for the millionth time.
“Once the flood gates are opened, they’re opened for good.” Is what he hears as he walks away, he doesn’t know who said it, he doesn’t even know if it was said to him. He opens the door to the gents and almost bumps into a rather handsome man leaving. He pulls back so the other can pass, and he gets a quick ushered ‘cheers’ as he passes by.
No one- oh. Oh.
Will’s nose registers it before he does and he’s stuck holding the door open for no one.
“What are you wearing? Smells good.” Will asks.
“I don’t know it’s something my mum bought me last Christmas, thought i’d try it out.” James smiles, appreciative of the compliment.
“It suits you.”
You. Are. Taking. The. Piss. The first time Will goes out in ages then this? Just his luck. Hair on his arms stand, his heart speeds up, and his lungs feel too small. That’s it for tonight. He needs an out. Piss and exit. Stat.
The boys are chatting amongst themselves when he returns, and he almost feels bad for interrupting them by grabbing his things as quick as his hands can move. Beanie half on and scarf not wrapped around his neck, Will tries to escape. Everything feels too cold. And too hot.
“Woah, Woah,” George starts, worry painting his face as he stands too. “Where are you going?”
The two other men exchange glances but don’t say a word.
“I’ve got to go- i’m sorry, somethings come up.” Shitty explanation, and… a lie, but he said words and that’s all that matters.
George wasn’t having it. “Will, come on, stay.”
No. “No. I can’t.”
Will’s lip quivers as the outside air hits his skin, voices shouting after him becoming distant. His feet start to move before he clocks what he’s doing. Not too far to go. He can do it in five minutes if he pushes his body hard enough.
“Will!” A voice shouts. Fan or friend he’s not sure but he doesn’t slow down.
Five minutes. His legs are on fire.
“Will!” Will doesn’t stop.
A corner comes into view i.e. the perfect route to lose this voice.
And then his feet aren’t on the floor anymore. A pair of arms are wrapped around his torso. “What the fuck-”
He’s placed back on the ground. He spins round. It’s George.
“Where are you going?” George huffs, cheeks red.
Will’s stumped. “Erm-”
“You can’t just run off with no explanation. We were having a good time!” Georges voice gets louder.
“I’m sorry I just really can’t be out right now.” Which actually isn’t a lie. Score!
An eye roll. “No one has seen you for weeks, Will. I finally get you out of the hole you’re living in and you go and pull a runner?” It’s not a question. So Will doesn’t answer. “I understand you’re struggling, I do. But you’re not helping yourself by staying alone all the time-”
“You don’t understand.”
“-I’m trying my hardest here. I miss you. Please, come back in?”
A beat of silence apart from the busy London roads.
George’s face isn’t angry anymore, it’s more of a ‘Please do it’ expression. A pang of guilt distracts Will from everything else he’s feeling. “I appreciate it and I appreciate you. But I don’t think I can do it.”
“Why?”
It sounds silly as he says it. “I smelt James in there.”
George’s face softens in understanding. Thank god. The clogs in his head turn as he works out how to reply. “Okay… do you want to go somewhere else?”
Yeah, home.
“I don’t know-”
“There’s this really nice place that’s open til one, really small but cosy place. It’s not far. Do you want to go there? I doubt many people will be there.” George offers, hopeful.
Absolutely not. “Sure.”
The Old John is what the wooden sign reads when the men go in and sit down.
George was right, this pub was teeny. Carpeted floors and dim lighting. Will was not about to complain.
“I’ve texted the guys, they were going to go home instead anyway. So, it’s just us.” George says, shoving his phone in his jean pocket.
“That’s alright. Can you tell them i’m sorry for the quick departure?”
“Already done it. What you having?”
“I’ve got these ones, you’ve been buying mine too much.” Will stands, wallet in hand.
George shrugs. “You’ve pulled my leg. I’ll take a Moretti if it’s up for grabs.” Will nods and waits at the bar.
There weren’t a lot of options on tap like the other bar. No Amstel. That’s fine, he’ll grab two Morettis. The walk here was mostly silent, it wasn’t great. But the air seemed to be a little clearer now they were inside.
“Hiya.”
Wills head snaps up, he didn’t even realise he was staring at the bar runner under his forearm. A redheaded woman comes towards him, drying her hands with blue roll.
“What you drinking?” She asks, friendly faced.
“Can I grab two Morettis, please.” Will pulls his card out from his wallet.
The redhead pulls the drinks. “Are you out-out tonight? Or just casual?”
He already hates this conversation. “Just casual I think.”
“You think,” She snorts. “Everyone says that, then i’m cleaning up their mess in the loo’s.”
Will smiles and pays.
“Enjoy!”
George thanks him as he takes his glass and has a sip. Will mirrors the action. It’s actually not half bad.
Then it’s silent again. Will refuses to look at George’s face.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
What a start. “Not really.”
“I think you should.”
Will tries to not snap. “I do enough talking to a therapist, that’s hard enough as it is.”
“You have a therapist?” George asks, surprised.
Oh right. “Oh, yeah. She’s a hoot. A right laugh. She just sits there and stares at me while I try to make words form actual sentences.”
“You didn’t tell me you had a therapist.”
Will shrugs. “Not something that comes up in conversation, I suppose.”
“Will.”
Will looks up and it’s not easy. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my therapist.” Is what he says, because that’s what George wants to hear.
“It’s not that you didn’t tell me,” Will notices the look on his friends face and can’t quite work out what it is. If it’s pity he doesn’t want to know. “It’s the fact that you just don’t want to talk to me about anything. Not just your therapist. Which i’m glad about by the way, well done for asking for help.”
He didn’t ask for help, Mikey pushed it on him after he didn’t show up to work multiple times. But no one needs to know that.
“All i’m asking for is to clue me in on at least a little bit of how you’re feeling.” George asks.
Will takes a deep breath. “I feel absolutely fuckin’ rotten. I feel like shite. I feel like everything I do isn’t good enough and it’s all for nish,”
While Will vents, George slowly sits back in his chair.
“I don’t know, George. I’m… I’m not okay. I miss him, man. I’m so angry he’s not here anymore.” His eyes didn’t even have the decency to water after all of that. Pathetic.
His friend doesn’t speak, just has a bit more of his drink, then stares.
“But for the record, I am sorry for not speaking you sooner. And the guys.” Will finishes.
He hopes that’s enough. There’s not a lot else he can say that would really make a difference. All of that was true, he is sorry, he just has a hard time of showing it right now. And that’s okay. He hopes.
“I’m sorry too.”
What? “What?” Will asks.
“I am sorry also. I think I under estimated how bad you’re going through it still.”
George is genuine. He’s always been a genuine bloke. Which makes Will feel even more guilty about neglecting his efforts of trying to reach Will. He should probably say that.
“It’s honestly fine, you don’t need to say sorry for that.” Is what he says instead.
Within an hour all is forgotten. Everything is fine again between the two. Will opens up a little more about the shit in his life and vice versa. George moans about this and that while Will listens intently, hoping to make up for all of what went on before. They get a couple more drinks before calling it a night when their vision is slightly impaired and their bodies can’t produce words properly.
On the way out Will thanks the redhead bartender, leaving her a little tip.
“No no, you keep that,” She says, holding the note out towards him.
Will declines. She tuts, but pockets it anyway. “Thank you.” She smiles.
“Home time?” George asks when they’re outside again.
“Think so.” Will zips up his coat.
01:49 4 New Messages.
Harry L. - Hey man hope ur alright
Chris. - Don’t worry about tonight
Chris. - NOT THAT YOU ARE. Just wanted to say me and Harry take no offence to the quick exit. Hope you’re okay man
George C. - thanks for coming tonight, glad we spoke. big love x