"I did a terrible, terrible thing," Will says, his head hung low in shame.
"What is it, Will?"
"You don't even wanna know," he shakes his head. "It's an unforgivable crime."
I was starting to panic. "What did you do? Whatever it is, it can't be that bad."
"You have no idea."
"Then tell me," I demand.
"Do you even know what I got in jail for?" He asks.
"Um, underage drinking?" That's what Rosie had said before.
"Yeah, that lasted for a night. I was arrested before that for two years."
"What?" I was appalled, to say the least. I've never heard of this; Rosie never mentioned it. However, she's always said something about Will's history or something of the sort.
"Tell me. I won't judge." Because I won't. I've never judged Will for his careless manners or his player ways, and I will never judge him for something he'd don't in his past. Today's Will is what I have now; I couldn't care less about yesterday's.
He sighs one long sigh and stares at his wounded hand like he's searching for something like he's trying to understand the lines on his palms. He then opens his mouth to start telling, but two knocks interrupt our story time.
Denise pokes her head in the room, asking with narrowing eyes, "What are you two doing by yourselves in the bedroom, on his bed?"
"Nothing," I say like it's really just nothing like we haven't kissed a few minutes ago because now, the mood is not really all that good.
"Yo, we're leaving," Cody stands next to his girlfriend and hangs one arm over her shoulder.
"Dude, why?" Will asks.
"We thought we'd give you space," Cody shrugs. "Also, Nate called me. Apparently, Matt Siobhan is hosting a party at his house. Did you know he's actually gay? Yeah, he likes dicks. Fun fact: he and Nicole dated a few years back."
"You made him gay?" Will asks me.
"I did not! That was Cody; he scared the poor guy so bad, he turned gay," I said defensively.
"Come on, Nick, every guy turns hay when they date you. You probably give them a bad impression of girls," Cody says.
"Fuck off, Cody. Besides Matt, Ryan was my first boyfriend." I swear, it's like his name brings a whole funeral to me because once I said it, everyone gave me the sad, sorry, angry looks. And I wanna scream "I'm okay!", but I haven't thought about him for a long time, and now that I am, I feel sad all over again.
"So my ex-boyfriend is throwing a party?" I ask to lighten the mood.
"No, Matt is," Cody corrects.
"Yeah, Matt is my ex-boyfriend."
So we end up partying, dancing, and drinking. And I end up getting a little wasted, kissing Will, and going home with him. And we end up on his bed and you know what comes next.832Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡU4xwM85QP0
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"What happened to her?" I brush the hair away from his face. He kept his eyes closed that I thought for a second he'd fallen asleep until he started talking.
"Her name was Elizabeth, but she asked people to call her Liz. I called her Lizzie because she called me Willy. She was two years older than me but acted a lot younger. That's what I liked about her." He sits up on the bed and rests his head against the headboard. "One night, she wobbled her way into a coffee shop I worked at. She looked pretty wasted so I helped her out. She talked to me till my shift was over, and then I took her to her apartment. She asked for my number that night, and I gave it to her.
We then became friends. Actually, we became really good friends, if you know what I mean." He's not joking. "And I don't know if I misunderstood her; I might've been receiving the wrong signs all along, but I thought we had something...I don't even know."
"Did you love her?" I asked, paying more attention and sitting straighter next to him.
"Maybe. I don't know," he stares ahead of him. "But I'd like to think I did. At least, that'd be the only explanation to why I did what I did."
I was dreading the answer to my question, but I do ask, "What did you do?"
Like a film that's being replayed in his mind, the memory of his deed appears before his eyes. I can tell from the expression drawn across his face.
"I don't know what had gotten into me back then. All I remember was anger and frustration. I saw him kissing her, and I went blind. I threw a punch and then the next. The bastard was out from the first hit, but I didn't stop. She tried to stop me, but I—I—" His voice breaks. "I put her in a coma for I don't know how long. She never woke up."
I see his eyes turn glossy before he covers them with his forearm. I don't know what to tell him, what to say after a story like this. What do people say in situations like this? How should I confront him? If I say one wrong word, I might make him feel worse.
So I say nothing, and I do the only thing I think is appropriate right now. I move his arm away from his face and hug him.
I gently rest his head under my chin, and he wraps his arms around my waist. We stay like this for a while, just peacefully silent and not saying a word. I'm hoping that I'll be able to make him feel better like this without having to say anything. My heart hurts for him, and maybe he's able to hear it beating against my chest.
I think I felt him shudder a bit, or maybe I was just imagining it. Either way, it must be painful a memory that he's visualizing at the moment.
"It's okay," I whisper.
"No, it's not okay," he shakes his head under my chin. "She never woke up since then, and I don't know if she ever will. If she died...If she died, Ill have killed her."
I hold his face in my hands and try to look him in the eyes. He's avoiding my gaze shamefully, and I want to tell him he shouldn't be ashamed in front of me.
"No, you didn't kill her. It was an accident. It wasn't your fault, Will."
Will pulls away from my hands and yells, "Yes, it was my fault!" He looks at the crumpled sheets of the bed and the blanket that was tangled between our legs. "Now her life is wasted because of me, and I can't do anything about it."
I try to reach out to hold him once more, "Don't blame yourself. It was an accident—"
"STOP SAYING THAT!" He pushes my shoulder hard, and I actually hear it crack. I wince a little, making him notice I'm hurt. Will tries to apologize, touching my shoulder, but I turn away.
"Don't. I'm fine," I say without looking at his face.
He angrily removes the blanket off of him, exposing his naked body. But I'm too distracted by what's happening, I don't pay attention to that. He starts pacing around the room, and I start putting on my clothes. I'm searching for my jeans somewhere under the bed when I hear a shatter.
Will's back is to me when I look at him, and I notice the broken pieces of the mirror, and then the blood where his fist collided.
I rush to where he stood, bent down, injured. The white wrap around his hand is starting to turn red.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine."
"You're really not," I take his coiled fist in my hand, and it relaxes a little. "Either the old cuts opened up again, or you caused new ones. I can't really tell."
I look up to find his eyes tearing up as he looked at me. I never saw Will crying; I never imagined Will crying. So I try to make light of the situation because if he cries, I know I'll cry, and I haven't shed a tear since my family's accident.
"Come on, it's not that bad. Don't be a baby." I meant his injury, but he must've misunderstood because he lets his head rest on my chest in dramatic sadness.
"I did it again. I almost hurt you like I hurt her." I hear the guilt in his voice, and I take a calming breath.
"You didn't hurt me. I'm really okay," I brush my hand gently on his hair.
"I'm a fucking idiot," he murmurs.
"In all fairness, you are an idiot," I chuckle. "You've always been, I guess."
"You don't understand how much I lose control," he raises his head. "I become blind."
"I understand very well what it means to lose someone and having to overcome the grief. But the thing is that people deal with grief in their own way. Maybe I was just too young to truly grief my family's loss."
When I look at him again, it feels like I made him more depressed by mentioning my family. What was said as means of comforting him turned to be one more thing worrying him. Of course, I didn't mean that; I never intended to make anyone worry for me, but it seems Will is easily guilty.
His forehead touches mine. "I'm really sorry."
I don't know what exactly he's apologizing for, but I say anyway, "Don't apologize."
"Sorry."
We stay like this for at least a minute, foreheads against each other, his hands around my neck.
"I know we're having a moment here, but it's hard to focus with you naked," I break the silence.
"You know you love seeing me like this," Will's back to his usual self again. It's scary how he can transform this much, this fast.
"Idiot."
And then he kisses me. It's not lustful like all the others. But rather regretful and thankful. It's not so intimate, but I can undoubtedly sense his feelings flooding through me.
"Will you give me a chance to take you seriously?" He whispers.
"I don't know what you're asking from me."
"Will you go out with me, Nicole?"
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