William wonders if he’ll ever have the warmth of someone sleeping next to him again, and he wonders if he’ll ever feel normal. He wonders if he’ll have the happy-ever-after his mother used to promise him at the end of bedtime stories.
It’ll get better with time?
He’s beginning to doubt it. It has been a little less than a year, and nothing much has changed. Sure, even before the end with Travis he’d not been the nicest, normal guy out there, but now he detests going out, and huddles in his living room for days on end.
They try, his friends, and drag him out to parties and gigs as much as they can, but William’s got better at evading their calls and finding excuses, and is often at peace in the silence of his apartment for more than a week. But tonight wasn’t one of those nights.
He’d been cleaning his teeth at 9 o’clock, ready for an early night, when Pete had called. “Do you want to come over? I’m having a party. Everyone’s here.”
William takes that as a bad thing and mumbles a “I don’t think so.”
But Pete’s insistent. “Come on, Bill. For an hour?”
Which is how William has come to find himself knocking on the door to Pete’s place. His chest feels as if something heavy is pressed against it. Some guy he doesn’t know opens the door, and as a greeting William nods, and then just squeezes past him. He doesn’t seem to care.
There are people in the kitchen, drinking and talking and laughing. William can name most of them, but he hasn’t talked to any of them in months, so he just grabs a beer from the fridge and wanders out. It seems nearly everyone’s upstairs, gathered on the landing. Not many people notice his arrival, and William keeps his eyes out and mouth shut as he steps over a few conversations to sit down near Pete. It’s a few minutes before Pete realises he’s here. “Hey, Billy!” He slurs, reaching out a hand to ruffle William’s hair. He flinches and scoots back an inch or so.
Pete doesn’t notice, but quickly loses interest in him. He’s trying to talk to someone on the other side of the room (to be really honest, they’re just yelling incomprehensibly at each other), but it’s not working. William’s gaze wanders; follows Pete’s.
It feels like a car crash.
Pete is talking to Travis. Travis is here. Ever so close to this wreck which is William. The crushing feeling from before returns a hundred times worse. He wants to talk, to scream, but the weight is still on his chest, pressing down. He can’t seem to get enough air. He’s gasping in great sucking drafts, as if he’d been underwater. Because Travis is so near.
The high at seeing Travis is too quickly replaced by a familiar low. Because William can’t have Travis. The past is a constant pain, a splinter in his memories. If he takes the time to re-examine what had happened (which he does too frequently) swathes of self hatred land on his bony shoulders. Because he can’t sit here and blush and cry at unrequited love, as he’d had it all, he’d had Travis, and then he – nobody else, William’s fault in every aspect of the way – destroyed it. He’s glaring at the floor, fist clenched stark white around his beer.
Somedays, he hates himself.
He wonders how long he’s been here. Nowhere near close to the hour he promised Pete.
His heart burns.
Momentary distractions keep his mind off the ache, but then he takes one more glance at (his) Travis. And his heart stops, because Travis is holding another guy. This – this boy is snuggled up against Travis’ side, and – he daren’t even blink – he’s wearing Travis’ hoodie, and-
William realises he’s staring, and accidentally catches the eye of Travis’ new guy. He blushes and looks down. He feels like crying. And he’s terrified he’ll burst into tears, so much so that he runs his hands through his hair and stands up. He wants to take a pen and scribble through tonight; forget Pete’s phone call, forget this incident.
He stands still for a moment, gangly limbs getting in the way. Fidgeting hands check his clothes, his wallet, and in a glimpse catches The New Boy whispering into Travis’ ear, finger outstretched towards William himself.
His gaze drops to the floor again as his cheeks flush bright red, and mentally he berates himself as he makes his way down the stairs, shoulders hunched. Once he’s outside he takes huge gulps of air, barely believing that the hazed images he remembers from barely a moment ago were real.
Because, before tonight, Bill had seen Travis, what, once since their break up? And that had only been a fleeting across-the-street moment, where William could easily duck and hide in a bookshop.
He stares at the garden discontentedly. ‘Cause he can’t work up the courage to leave. How Pete would punish him if he left before his hour was up – and even if it’s quieter, the garden is hardly a peaceful place where William can regain his humanity.
Inwardly William curses Pete for his huge parties.
“Bill?”
It’s a car crash again. His heart is beating too loud and he’s breathing so rapidly he swears Travis knows exactly how he feels. William tries to pretend he’s normal. Instead of risking speech, he raises a hand in an attempt at a wave (he starts work on building up a smile as a response to the next question).
But then Travis sits next to him on the bench. William stops breathing.
“How’re you?”
“I-I’m okay.” He manages to choke out. He knows he should reciprocate the question but he just can’t. He clamps his mouth shut.
Luckily, Travis doesn’t need encouraging. “I’m really good, too. I’m doing well.” He doesn’t mention the boy inside, William notes mindlessly as Travis rambles on and on.
He realises he’s just been asked a question. “Hmm?”
“I said, where’ve you been?” William’s still too scared to look at Travis’ face. “I haven’t seen you recently.”
Crap. Now he needs an excuse. “A-away.” He stutters. How he could possibly seem remotely human right now is a mystery to him. He just hopes Travis doesn’t pick up on it.
“With work?”
Blindly William wonders why Travis thinks waiting on tables gave the opportunity for travel. “No, I got sacked. Family.”
William takes a fleeting glance at Travis’ face after he hasn’t spoken in reply for a second or two. He looks shocked. “Patrick fired you?”
William sighs. “It was nearly a year ago.” He’s speaking so quietly Travis has to lean closer to hear him, and Bill can practically hear him doing the maths in his head. “I wasn’t doing so well.”
Travis seems to be finding it hard to breathe. William hopes to god it’s because Travis is in the same boat as him. But… no. He’s angry. “Fuck you.” He hisses. “You had no right whatsoever to be upset.”
Upset? William could laugh out loud at that. He’s still “upset”, and Travis so blandly puts it. But he can’t voice his thoughts, so he says nothing. Instead he ducks his head so Travis can’t see his face. William’s silence seems to make him angrier. “What, you can’t even talk to me now?”
Bill can’t think of a suitable reply, so he just shrugs. He’s so close to cracking – to start screaming or crying or what, he’s not sure.
“ Jesus, Billy!” He takes three huge breaths. “I only came out here to see how you were doing, not for a screaming match.”
William mutters something akin to “you started it.”
Travis laughs (it’s fake, but William appreciates the effort). “Come on. What’ve you been up to? Since you got sacked and all.”
“My grandma died.” It was true. William lets Travis think he’d spent most of the year with her. Instead he’s flown out to say a quick goodbye at her funeral before coming back to mope at home.
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
William shrugs, and the conversation lapses into silence.
A minute or so later, Travis’ new guy arrives. “Travie?”
William’s head snaps up so fast he swears he hears his neck crack. Once he sees who it is his gaze drops again.
“Heya.” Definitely fucking, William thinks. ‘Cause he’d only ever heard Travis use that voice when talking to him before.
“You coming back inside soon?”
William can practically hear the anxiety gnawing at this new boy’s insides. He could have laughed and told him there was no need to worry. It wasn’t like Travis and him would start making out anytime soon.
“Yeah.” William’s stomach drops. “Just give me two minutes, okay?”
He nods and vanishes back inside the house. They sit in silence, watching him disappear until William’s sure he’s gone and speaks. “Your new guy, eh?”
Travis is trying not to be enticed into yelling. He leans back, against the bench. Stretches his long legs out in front of him. “His name’s Matt.” William curls forwards, elbow resting on his knee, chin resting on his clenched fist.
“I’ll that as a yes?” He tries to keep the sour bitterness which is feeling his throat out of his voice.
They’re both so close to snapping.
“We’re not fucking, if that’s what you mean.” Travis is trying to stay neutral.
But even now, months and months since they were TravieandBill, they can’t stay like this, have a polite conversation. There’s still passion there, even if it’s changed from lust to hate.
“It’s what I meant.” He whispers.
Travis’ voice sounds ugly when he speaks. “Well, you got over me pretty quick. I figured it was my turn.”
“ Got over you? I didn’t-,” William pauses, and figures it must have looked that way. And it’s not like if this escalates into an argument he’ll have anything to fight back with. Travis would be right every time.
He stands up. He’s dimly aware of Travis talking to him, yelling, as he walks away, but he’s thinking hard. Concentrating.
William’s woken by Travis shoving him hard against the wall. “Listen to me!” He’s angry. Travis’ breath is hot against his cheek – it smells of alcohol, and William wonders whether picking a fight was the most sensible thing he’d done.
Reluctantly, William’s gaze swings upwards to meet Travis’. And its only then he realises how close they are. He’s suddenly reminded of snatched moments in closets, long winter nights and shared kisses, until Travis slaps him hard across the face.
William gasps. His left shoulder is still trapped – Travis is holding him as hard as he can against the wall – but he manages to raise a hand to his burning cheek.
He starts to crack, same as Travis. “What the fuck ?” He hisses. And hits Travis right back.
The fight doesn’t last long, for obvious reasons. William Beckett may be tall, but he’s not the strongest. So while Travis has barely suffered, Bill feels like his lip is on fire, and he can barely stand after being hit in the stomach. He leans back against the wall, wincing. “Fuck you, Travis McCoy.” He whispers. He gingerly touches his face. A black eye for sure, and his lip is bleeding.
Travis disappeared after playing the punch that winded him, but at the moment William couldn’t care less where Travis was – in fact, he fervently wished he hadn’t even seen him. He’s pissed off, bitter and upset. And he wants to go home.
But it’s too long a walk. So William drags himself into the kitchen and begins to drown his sorrows in whatever alcohol’s available.
An hour later, he’s thoroughly enjoying himself eavesdropping, but then Pete pulls a chair up beside him.
“Hey, Billy.”
“Pete.”
They manage to make a pretty good conversation, considering how much they’ve each had to drink. Eventually Pete notices the state William’s in. “Dude, what happened to you?”
William glares at the wall opposite him. “Travis fucking McCoy.” He downs some more of his drink.
“Really? I wondered why he looked so bad.” William smiles grimly. At least he isn’t the only one looking a mess. “Can- can I talk to you?”
Bill giggles under his breath. “You already are, dumbass.”
“No, I mean… alone. Privately.”
The room’s practically empty as it is. William shrugs – this could be part of Pete’s oddities, perhaps – and scrapes his chair back, following Pete out of the room.
…and into a bathroom. Pete jumps the queue – William can only smile apologetically at the line before he’s ushered in by Pete and the door’s locked behind them. Should he be worried? Well. It does seem as if all Pete wants to do is talk.
He’s standing by the door; for lack of a seat William takes a few steps away and leans against the sink.
“I wanted to talk to you about Travis.” Bill stiffens. This wasn’t turning out to be a fun night.
“What about him?”
“You’re… still hung up on him, aren’t you?” William glares at the floor, but after a moment’s consideration gives a short, sharp nod. “And you blame yourself for what happened?” He nods again. Pete sighs. “I’ll start from here, then. It wasn’t your fault.”
William snorts. “I think you’ll find that it was.”
Pete’s shaking his head half way through the sentence. “Sure, you and Ryan kissed. Big deal! It wasn’t as if you guys were gonna start fucking if he hadn’t walked in.”
William bursts out with the same line he’s been repeating to himself over and over this past year. “It was a betrayal of trust! Pete, we wouldn’t have broken up if it wasn’t for that!”
Pete shrugs. “Maybe, maybe not.” William’s fuming in silence, scowling at the floor. “Come on, Billy. Think about it. If you guys broke up because of one measly kiss, you’ve got problems. There were other issues, right?”
“I-I guess.” William replies in a small voice. Perhaps… perhaps Pete was right.
“All of those broke you up.” Pete shrugs. “That kiss just quickened the process.”
Huh. While it might not eradicate the guilt entirely, it sure as hell helped.
“I don’t see why you and Travis keep persisting it was your fault.” He’s right, William thinks, and is about to say so when Pete takes two steps forwards, tiptoes up and kisses him.
Bill’s so surprised at the feel of Pete’s mouth in his that he goes rigid all over, grabbing for the edge of the sink to support himself. William does not, however, push him away and clearly taking this as a sign of encouragement, Pete slides his hand behind Bill’s head and deepens the kiss, parting his lips. Pete’s mouth is soft, softer than Travis’ had been, and the hand that cupped Bill’s neck was warm and gentle. He tasted like salt.
William lets his eyes fall shut and for a moment floated dizzily in the darkness and the heat with the feel of Pete’s fingers on his skin.
But then Pete grabs a handful of his hair and pulls as hard as he can. William gasps in pain, hands rising to push him away, but Pete’s already a foot or two away, smirking. “Get over Travis, okay?”
“What-what the-,” Bill’s shocked. “Why’d you kiss me?” ‘Cause it’s not like the pair have ever shown any interest in each other beyond friendship before.
“To show you there are, to put it bluntly, better guys out there.” William laughs, more from the nerves than anything else. He can still feel the pounding of his heart in his throat, like the fluttering wings of an insect trapped under his skin.
“That was one hell of a way to get me there.”
Pete shrugs, an evident smirk on his face. “It seemed right at the time.” He bites his lip. “Are you mad at me?”
“I-no. I guess…you’re right.”
Pete suddenly seems to have realised what could have happened if William had taken the kiss the wrong way. “Y’do realise that was a one off, right?”
William laughs again. “I get it. What would Patrick say?”
Blushing furiously, Pete punches William’s arm. “Shut the fuck up about Patrick!”
William shrugs, hiding a grin. He’s happier now. Pete unlocks the door and saunters through, beckoning for Bill to follow. He does, staring at the ground while trying to evade blushing. He can’t imagine what this queue for the bathroom would have thought they were doing (in the old days, before Travis, he wouldn’t have cared).
A metre away from the door, he stops. And yeah, the queue look at him. But he just stares back brazenly, smirking as he skips a step or two to catch up to Pete.
He’s going to change. He will get better, and he doesn’t even fucking care anymore about what people think of him.
Screw Travis McCoy. And screw anybody who thinks he’s different. He’s gonna dance all night and sleep all day, and he’s not going to listen to anybody who tells him differently.
Never pass of your guilt lines, just wear them like a noose on your neck, I'll help you keep it tied tight.
You're the worst actor that I've ever seen but if this script called for liars, you'd play the lead.
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Author's Comments
so maybe i should probably fall out of my obsession with william beckett.
i wrote this at 2am after i had a dream that pete wentz licked my face (so fucking creepy, i know), so if it's slightly incomprehensible let me know. title: judas kiss rating: pg13 (languuuage) disclaimer: don't own 'em. |
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Comments
I actually quite liked this chapter. It was a little hard to read in the middle but ot was good.
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.ǝɯɐɥs ɟo sʇǝǝɹʇs ǝɥʇ uı ǝʌı1 oʇ ʍoɥ ǝɯ ʇɥbnɐʇ noʎ -
Is this a chapter of something?
Because I'm intrigued.
Though Pete was kind of mean in that bathroom scene. :c William's hair is too pretty to pull.
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"Hector...? Y-you...your face...what..."
"Ryan...you made me beautiful."
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Why? WHY?! Because I'm an EMO RANGER. That's why. GO GO EMO RANGERZZZZ~!
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