one of us (4/4). skandar/georgie/will p., hard r.

[likecharity]

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He feels a hot surge of want for Skandar, a need to finally close the gap and be with both of them. He thinks of Alex Mallinson, teaching him how to bring himself off, the older boy with his strong hands and skinny hips, and freckles like Skandar's. It's not gay, Alex had insisted, but Will had burned with shame anyway when he thought of the way Alex had touched him. He wants Skandar to touch him like that, wants it so bad that it actually hurts.

Skandar kisses him, and it's sudden and unexpected and far too gentle, not much more than a peck of lips against lips, and Will clutches at him desperately, holds him close and thrills at the way their damp skin touches, Skandar's bare legs covered in thick dark hair against Will's downy thighs. He needs him, suddenly and powerfully, and he's completely unaware of Georgie standing in the doorway until Skandar pulls back, shoots a sheepish smile behind Will's head.

Georgie, wrapped in Skandar's dressing gown, smiles back, looking almost bemused. She holds up a selection of DVDs. "Do you want to watch a movie?"

Will wants to say no no no, because it feels like something is building and he's so close, so close he can taste it. But Skandar tosses his towel onto the bed, grabs some sweats and says, "Yeah. That sounds good."

Will's heart sinks, but, sitting on the sofa between the two of them watching a movie, having popcorn and red wine for breakfast, he finds that he can wait. They are warm and soft and sleepy like cats, curled against him at either side, and he is wired, awake with want, but willing to simply hold them close for now.

***
Throughout the day, they nap intermittently, half-heartedly trying to catch up on the night's sleep they missed. They are dropped in on once by Ben, who is going out to Subway to get dinner and wants to know if they need anything. He seems puzzled when Will answers the door in just a t-shirt and boxers and tells him that Skandar and Georgie are sleeping. He assures Ben that they're okay, and thanks him, and he finds that he's almost in a hurry to get rid of him, wanting to go back to the bedroom and snuggle down in bed between Skandar and Georgie. He can't get enough of that, misses it even though he's only been gone a minute.

Ben is about to leave when he turns back suddenly, holding the door open as Will starts to shut it. "Dammit," he says, "I meant to bring you Birdsong."

Will remembers-the play Ben so desperately wants a part in. He'd offered to lend Will the novel it's based on, and Will had agreed, because he wants to support Ben and show his interest in whatever projects he chooses, but if he's honest right now he can't really imagine getting drawn into a book, not when there's so much going on in his real life. He reads books for escapism, and he no longer feels any need to escape.

"I'll bring it round later if I remember," Ben goes on. "Damn, I knew I'd forgotten something."

When Will goes back into the bedroom, Skandar is up, lying on top of the covers with a book in his hands.

"Ben wanted to know if we want tea," Will says. "I said no."

Georgie rolls over, slithers out from under the sheets. "I want tea," she pouts.

"Oh-sorry, I just thought-"

"We have instant noodles," Skandar tells her.

Georgie seems to brighten at this. "Yum," she says, skipping off into the hallway, picking up Susan's coronation dress on the way.

Will takes a moment to be thankful that Ben didn't come any further than the doorway, as Skandar and Georgie are near-naked. In fact, the only item of clothing Skandar is wearing is the cloak that is supposed to go with Susan's dress-a gorgeous navy-blue velvet thing, with an intricately-carved golden clasp at the base of his neck. Georgie couldn't be bothered with it, but Skandar had snatched it up as soon as she brought the costume home.

"You look like a superhero," Georgie had told him, and he had beamed. "A gay superhero, but still."

Will flops down onto the bed beside Skandar now, lies there with his cheek pressed into the mattress and watches him. He's studying, Will thinks, from the looks of the dull book in his hands and the frown on his face-and Will just lies there beside him, basking in the bliss of doing absolutely nothing. Time passes, and they can hear the sound of the TV turned to music channels; that new Black Eyed Peas song, Will thinks, tonight's gonna be a good night. The atmosphere is nice, quiet, relaxed. Will doesn't have anything to do but simply be around the two of them, and that's his favourite kind of evening.

Skandar rolls over onto his front, clearing his throat and frowning even more deeply at the book in his hand. He looks serious, concentrating on the words, and Will watches him, the quick back and forth of his dark eyes.

"Quit it," Skandar mutters.

"Sorry."

Will rolls over onto his side, shuffles a little closer. He wants to distract Skandar from his work, but he feels shy about it. He doesn't initiate things-ever, really, but especially with these two. But he has a suspicion that Skandar needs him to, that Skandar is, for once, a little afraid, and maybe all he needs is a push in the right direction. Will leans in, ever so slowly, and rests his head against Skandar's hunched shoulder, his forearm, feels the tension there. He kisses him, very gently, and then just rests, his eyes closed, his forehead pressed to Skandar's skin. He waits a moment, and tries again, a more obvious kiss this time.

Suddenly, Skandar snaps. The book is forgotten and Skandar's hands are suddenly around Will's neck, so quickly and so unexpectedly that Will can barely believe what's happening. He splutters as Skandar holds him down, edging closer, one of his legs hooking over Will's splayed ones.

"I-I'm sorry," Will chokes out, bewildered. It feels like it did in the ocean, like he's drowning, and he tries not to panic.

Skandar says nothing, but his thumb jabs sharply at Will's throat and Will coughs, trying to take in more air and struggling. He doesn't know if he could fight Skandar off, and he's surprised to find that he doesn't want to, wouldn't dare. Skandar clambers on top of him, shuffled and slow, a hot heavy weight on Will's back. He's naked beneath the cloak, and Will can feel the press of Skandar's erection against his thigh, then his arse. He shudders, arousal thrilling through him at the feel of it, and he feels lightheaded, losing oxygen rapidly, vision beginning to ebb out around the edges.

"Boys, boys!" comes a sudden, shocked admonishment from the doorway.

Skandar lets Will go immediately, clambers off him and sits up, wrapping the cloak around himself to hide his state. Will gasps and pants, sucking air gratefully into his lungs, overwhelmed.

"We were just messing around," Skandar says, like a boy lying to his mother.

Georgie raises an eyebrow. "It didn't look like it to me," she says. Her coronation gown hangs off one shoulder, the dress loosely laced-up, and she looks a little flushed and sweaty. Will blinks at her and finds that his vision is a little swimmy. He reaches for his wine from the bedside table, takes a long drink from the glass and wonders if maybe he's had too much already.

"Anyway," says Georgie, "I'd lecture you, but I can't because I'm too excited about my surprise."

"Your surprise?" Skandar enquires.

"I have a surprise." She beckons, and she's grinning, and Will gets to his feet unsteadily to follow her.

The three of them pass the mirror in the hall and Will almost laughs out loud at their reflections-Georgie in her beautiful dress, Skandar in the matching cloak...and Will himself in Skandar's old Narnia franchise t-shirt and some threadbare boxers. He starts to say something about how ridiculous they all look, but then his attention is distracted by what Georgie has made for them. The furniture has been rearranged, and blankets and spare bedding are draped over it all, creating a sort of fort in the middle of the living room. The lights are dimmed and she has lit more of her tealights, spread them out across the coffee table with a fresh bottle of wine opened in the middle.

Skandar lets out a shriek of delight, running forwards with his cloak trailing out behind him as he leaps through the entrance of the den head-first. Will gets closer, sees that Georgie has decked out the inside with even more blankets and sheets, pillows and cushions, and the table lamp from the spare bedroom which gives it a pinkish glow.

"This is amazing," Will says, pulling Georgie close. She's grinning, obviously proud.

"Skandar and I did it once on set when we were little," she tells him, "and all four of us squeezed in and it was the cosiest thing ever. I never wanted to get out."

"Come on, come on," Skandar urges, "and bring the wine."

They settle down, the three of them, Will in the middle and banging his head on the table leg as he tries to lie down and keep from spilling the wine at the same time. He takes a swig from it before anything further can happen to it. He feels safe and happy and warm, the fabric walls of the fort like a protective shield against the rest of the world. He feels like a child, and then he looks from Skandar to Georgie and he feels in love.

"You," he slurs, kissing Georgie on the cheek, "are so beautiful."

"You," Georgie drawls back at him in a teasing imitation, "are so drunk."

Will nods, drunkenly, in agreement. "Yes," he says, and then reflects on this for a moment. "But tomorrow, I will be sober. And you will still be beautiful."

Georgie laughs, stroking his nose. It feels good. Will sort of wants to fall asleep. "If you say so, young William."

He nuzzles her shoulder, and then he wants to kiss her so he does-and it feels so good to be able to do that, still, to want to kiss somebody and to do it and to have them respond, to feel her lips move against his, her smile against his mouth. She draws back before he's ready, though, just smiling at him, shaking her head a little, but not in discouragement-something else, something that Will can't figure out at this moment. Then Georgie's gaze shifts and she's looking over Will's head, at Skandar, and Will turns. He kisses Skandar too, because it feels like Skandar is waiting, and this time Skandar allows it, fully, takes Will by the face and kisses him deep, licking into his mouth.

Georgie's hand snakes over Will's chest, traces the worn lettering on the t-shirt. N-A-R-N-I-A, Will feels her spell out, and he holds Skandar tight as Georgie's fingers travel lower and peel down his boxers. Will finds Skandar hard too, against his thigh, not hidden by the cloak, unashamed. They take Georgie's dress off together, unlace it and bring it over her head, and it happens-finally-Will has both of them, unequivocally and entirely.

It's better than he ever imagined.

***
Ben knocks on the door a few times. Maybe not enough. He knows this is where Will must be, though. He's not in his own flat-he always tries there first, though it's becoming increasingly pointless and he's invariably greeted by Will's Dad, a little irritated for having his work interrupted. He knocks again, slightly puzzled. Will never leaves a door unanswered, purely out of politeness, and the three of them never seem to go out anymore. It seems especially unlikely that they'd go out at this time in the morning.

There's no answer, though, and a strange feeling is beginning to grow inside of him, an odd sense of unease brought about by the utter quiet on the other side of the door. He doesn't know what to think, but he's concerned, and it's for this reason that he turns the doorknob, finds the door unlocked and enters the room quietly with a deep feeling of foreboding.

The first thing he sees is the mess in the middle of the living room-at least, that's what it looks like from his position, still standing at the entrance to the room. It looks like someone has ransacked the place, and he starts to panic, but as he gets a little closer he realises it's a sort of fort, blankets and sheets draped over furniture to make a den, like kids do. He finds himself smiling in relief. It's sweet, the thought of the three of them doing that together-sometimes he forgets how young they really are.

And then he gets closer, and his stomach turns over.

All he can do is stare. Georgie is sprawled out of the entrance to the den, her head resting against Skandar's foot and her legs intertwined with Will's. The boys are lying beside each other, Will's face buried in Skandar's shoulder as he sleeps. His hand is splayed over Georgie's calf, while Skandar has one arm thrown across Will's stomach and the other dangling over Georgie's hip. All three of them are naked, dishevelled-Georgie's hair matted with sweat and half-obscuring her face, the blankets beneath them rumpled and pillows lying all around them as though they've been tossed aside in a frenzy.

Ben finds himself sinking down into a crouch, his knees almost giving out as he looks at the sight before him. The copy of Birdsong nearly slides out of his sweaty hands and he catches it before it drops onto the floor, not wanting to wake them. He stares for a long, long time. It seems difficult to move, because moving means he must decide what to do next, and he has no idea how to deal with this. And some part of him wants to make sure he's really seeing what he thinks he's seeing, needs time to let it sink in. But it doesn't make any more sense, no matter how long he looks.

They seem peaceful in sleep, and the gentle rise and fall of their chests as they breath is strangely hypnotic. They look comfortable, relaxed together, and maybe that's what's so difficult to grasp. It doesn't feel like there's an easy, appropriate reaction to something like this. There doesn't appear to have been any coercion, though of course it's hard to tell. But Georgie seems so happy, the look on her sleeping face is blissful even. Ben doesn't feel that they need to be reprimanded, can't quite say for sure if they've done anything wrong, but the responsibility handed to him simply by way of coming across them this way distresses him. He thinks of Will and Anna, is sure they would know what to do. But they're not here, and he's the one in charge, and he's never known how to deal with Skandar and Georgie the way they do.

He gets to his feet, shakily, still not taking his eyes off them. He turns the book over in his hands, uncertain, and then, decisively, places it carefully in the center of the coffee table, takes one last dazed look at the naked, sprawled bodies of the young teenagers he was supposed to be looking after, and leaves.

***
Will is awoken by the sound of a door clicking shut, but it takes him a second to come around, to realise what the sound was and what it meant. A feeling of dread trickles down his spine-the sound was too loud, too close, it must have been their door. He sits up, steadily, pulls away from Skandar and Georgie, lets their limbs drop from him and watches as they resettle themselves, sniffling, sleepy. He sits there, staring blankly ahead of him, for a long moment, fear chilling through him. And then his eyes focus, on a large white something in the middle of the coffee table. It wasn't there before.

He crawls forwards, and he realises what it is before he reaches the table, but doesn't want to believe it. His heart seems to sink and rise into his throat at the same time, and he feels like he might be sick. He stares at the book's cover, the painting of a young man naked and curled in on himself, his head resting against his knees. Birdsong.

In a flash, he grabs for a pair of jeans from the floor, and accidentally knocks the book off the table with his elbow. It falls to the floor with a thud and Will starts, glancing back over his shoulder-but Skandar and Georgie are still fast asleep. He pulls the jeans on hurriedly and runs from the flat with them still undone, racing down the corridor and almost tripping over his own feet in his panicked hurry.

He realises that the main thing he feels is guilt. Shame. Ben must think he's such an idiot, so pathetic, to be so absurdly incapable of separating friendship and sex like this. To get so caught up in Skandar and Georgie that he would allow himself to be found naked with the two of them. His face burns in embarrassment when he thinks what Ben must have seen, and it makes him hate himself.

He stumbles around the corner, stopping short when he sees Ben. Ben is standing in front of the door to his flat, his head against it, eyes staring down at the carpet. And Will feels another painful rush-he didn't think about how this would make Ben feel, how strange and disgusting and shocking it must be for him. He hasn't given Ben a second thought in the past month, has ignored him in favour of Skandar and Georgie, and the guilt thickens, in his blood and his throat and his stomach, making him feel ill.

The first word that Will blurts out is, "Sorry," and then he can't stop saying it, babbling apologies until Ben holds up one slightly shaking hand to silence him.

Ben turns around, slowly, leaning against the door like he needs it to prop himself up. He stares at Will for a moment with an utterly unfathomable expression, his face pale and drawn, and then opens the door and goes inside. Will follows, dreading the lecture he's sure is about to come. He's never coped well with being told off, with punishments. Whenever his parents used to get angry at him, he would just crumple into a ball and cry the instant they raised their voices. Even now, if he does something wrong on set and Michael gets a little bit sharp with him, he has to fight back the tears that sting instinctively.

And the thought of Ben-Ben who has just seen him naked and sleeping, at his most vulnerable, who knows now how weak he is-

"I don't know what to say," Ben says weakly, and Will is alarmed to really see how much this has affected him-the way his voice trembles like that, the close-to-tears smile on his face. The fact that he doesn't even know what to say.

Will supposes he just assumed that Ben would tell somebody. Their parents, perhaps Michael. It just seems like the logical step-get it out in the open, put a stop to it. Maybe they'd be separated when not on set, so as to make sure nothing like this would happen again. But the fact that Ben went straight to his own flat, instead of going to find a parent or staying there to-well, tell them all off, is surprising to say the least.

"I'm not-" starts Ben, and then stops again, rubs his forehead. "I can't-do anything. If you're safe, and you're careful, then...it's not in my power, to do anything."

He looks like he regrets this, but Will doesn't understand it at all-how could it not be in Ben's power? Ben is almost thirty, and he's been something of a guardian to them all since filming began. It's disconcerting to see him so helpless, so lost.

"Georgie's young," Ben says, suddenly, a little sharply. "I know it's only a couple of years' difference between the two of you, but Skandar-" he sighs, looks to the ceiling, hand on his forehead again. "Skandar's eighteen." He shakes his head like he can't quite believe it, and it's strange how he seems to feel so responsible but so powerless at the same time.

"They-they haven't-" Will stammers, because it seems important that Ben knows that, though he knows in his heart that it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter that Skandar hasn't been inside Georgie, because everything else they've done is probably enough to land him in jail, and a shudder runs through Will at that thought-one he hasn't ever really acknowledged until now, that any kind of sexual relationship between Skandar and Georgie is illegal, and he thinks that Ben can't quite bring himself to say it either.

"I can't," Ben interrupts, holding out his hand again. "I don't want to-" he stops short again, takes a deep breath. "I just worry about them," he says finally. "I feel like this is something we all could have stopped if we'd really paid attention, but nobody wanted to see what was there and..."

He's talking about it like Will had no involvement, as though he just found Skandar and Georgie curled up naked together, as if that's all that matters. And maybe it does, Will thinks. It's sort of irrelevant, maybe, what he's done with the two of them, apart from the fact that he's perhaps intensified their own relationship. And the realisation of that makes his eyes sting. He realises that must be what Ben means-if we'd really paid attention, instead of getting too enamoured with them to see the danger. He feels so stupid, and so sorry, and he doesn't know what he can possibly say to make this better.

"I can't stop you," Ben says, and his voice wavers once again. "Making a big thing of it will only push the two of them closer together. It's better if we don't even tell them that I know."

"Are-are you sure?"

"Yeah." Ben bites his lip, looks off in another direction, and it feels horrible to see him do that, like he can't even bring himself to look at Will anymore. "Yeah. Just, go, okay? They're probably wondering where you are."

Will hesitates. His eyes sting with tears. "I don't-I don't want you to be mad at me." He says it without thinking and it's just pure, painful honesty.

Ben looks back at him, shaking his head. "I'm not mad at you," he says, almost in disbelief. "God, I'm not mad at you, I just-I need some time."

Will nods rapidly, concentrating all his effort on trying not to let his eyes spill over with tears. Suddenly, Ben is embracing him, holding him tight and sure in his arms, and Will nearly breaks down from it-the surprise and the relief and the comfort. It feels like forgiveness.

"You can talk to me, you know," Ben murmurs, "I know I haven't been very-but you can talk to me, if you need to. You know that, right?"

Will mumbles a yes against Ben's shoulder, and Ben pats his back as he lets him go.

Shutting Ben's door behind him, he does up his trousers before he walks back, still feeling the burn of shame, and almost trembling, overwhelmed by so many emotions. He hesitates outside the door of Skandar and Georgie's, wondering if he should go back to his Dad, after all. It's tempting, to run back to a parent for the pure comfort of it, but he doesn't want Skandar and Georgie to worry or get suspicious.

He goes in, and is surprised to see that the two of them are up, Skandar sitting on the kitchen counter eating cereal from the box while Georgie lies on the sofa. Will is relieved to see that the book is in a heap of laundry beside the coffee table, that it's gone unnoticed, but he's surprised that neither of them seem bothered by his absence.

"Frosties?" Skandar offers, holding out the cereal packet.

"Um." Will clears his throat. He feels so flustered, so full of emotion that it might threaten to spill over. "No. Thanks. Um-didn't you wonder where I was?"

Georgie shrugs. "We just figured you went to reassure your Dad that you're still alive." She looks up at him curiously. "Why, where were you?"

"I was reassuring my Dad that I'm still alive," Will lies, thankful for having the excuse handed to him.

Neither of them seem to be listening, and Will stands there by the door as the two of them carry on their conversation as if uninterrupted, bickering a little about the state of Skandar's kitchen. Will feels a strange feeling, creeping down his spine. He thinks about Ben's reaction, what he said. Will wonders if perhaps all he's doing is bringing Skandar and Georgie closer and closer together. He wonders if he's the one who should be doing something about it-Ben seems to think Will is the one who has all the power.

Skandar tosses Georgie a rather wrinkled and bruised apple, and she catches it, scowling at him. Will clears his throat, more because he needs to than because he wants to attract their attention, but they both look at him expectantly anyway, as if to say "...Yes?" and it gives him some sort of opportunity that he thinks he's supposed to take.

"Georgie," he hears himself say.

Mouth full, she replies, "Yeah?"

"Will you..." Will starts, and then stops, feeling stupid, rubbing his forehead with his hand. He shoves his hands into his pockets and looks at her again. "Will you go out with me?"

Georgie swallows. "Go out with you?" she repeats. Will sees her eyes dart to Skandar, but he doesn't want to follow them, doesn't want to see Skandar's reaction.

"You know. On a date." He doesn't like how uncertain he sounds, but it's possibly the first time he's ever actually put forward an idea of his own with the two of them. "Dinner and a movie. That sort of thing."

Georgie grins, looking baffled, and takes another bite of her apple. She looks to Skandar again, and Will hates that, that neither of them seem to be able to do anything without consulting the other. He wonders if they've really done anything without each other for the past few months.

"You don't need his permission," Will says before he has a chance to think it through, and he blushes, immediately worrying that he will have angered Skandar.

"I know, I just," Georgie swallows again, wipes a bit of juice from her chin, "where's all this coming from?"

Will looks down at his feet. "I don't know," he lies. "I just...never get to spend any time with either of you alone." That part is true.

"Are you gonna take Skandar out on a date next?" Georgie laughs.

Will smiles, embarrassed. "I don't know," he says, "maybe."

"In your dreams," chuckles Skandar, tossing the empty cereal packet into the bin and hopping off the counter.

***
"Where are you going?" Will's Dad asks, a little sharply, just as Will is on his way out of the door the next evening. He didn't expect the question-he's been absent so often lately that he assumed his Dad had stopped wondering or caring.

"Out," he says, without turning back, "with Georgie."

His Dad considers this for a moment in silence. "You're dressed up."

Oh shit, am I? Will thinks, looking down at himself. He's wearing jeans, but he's paired them with a shirt and blazer in a sort of dressy-casual way because if he's honest, he has no idea what one wears on a date and he just took a wild stab in the dark. He turns around, slowly. His Dad has taken off his glasses and is regarding him somewhat suspiciously.

"Will," he says thoughtfully.

"Mm?"

"You can tell me, you know," his Dad says, coughing a little awkwardly, "if Georgie is your girlfriend."

It's such a simple proposition that Will is slightly taken aback by how difficult it seems. He realises then that he doesn't know if Georgie is his girlfriend-his relationship with her seems far too much for that, too complicated, too unique and amazing and wonderful. And if she is his girlfriend, is she also Skandar's? Is Skandar their boyfriend? It all seems silly. It goes beyond such words.

But as far as his Dad understands... "Yeah," he says, and he can feel himself blushing as his Dad grins at him, "yeah, Dad, she is."

"All right," he says, satisfied. "Well, have fun!"

"Thanks," Will replies, and is about to leave again when he remembers. "Oh, and Dad? We might stay over at Skandar's again tonight, so I-"

His Dad is frowning now. "Okay," he says, hesitantly, "but maybe tomorrow you and I should sit down and have a little talk."

Will feels a little shudder of dread. He knows what kind of talk his Dad means-man-to-man, father-to-son-and it makes sense. Now that his Dad knows the nature of his and Georgie's relationship (or at least, vaguely), the fact that Will has been spending night after night sleeping in the same flat as her has probably become cause for concern.

"Skandar'll be there," he says, weakly. "Skandar's always there."

His Dad nods. He puts his glasses back on. "Even so."

Will dithers by the door, unsure if this is over or not, but eventually his Dad turns back to the papers spread out on the coffee table and Will takes that as his cue to leave. He knocks on Skandar's door for quite a while before Georgie opens it, trying to fasten a necklace one-handed.

"Here," Will says, stepping inside to do it for her.

She pecks him on the cheek, grinning. "I've never been on a date before. I didn't know what to wear."

"Well-you-you look perfect," Will stammers, blushing.

Georgie takes a little bow, giggling.

"Is Skandar not in?" Will asks, and is disappointed at how quickly he has mentioned him.

"He went out a little while ago. He's in a mood." Georgie wrinkles her nose, grabbing a room key from the counter and stuffing it into her handbag. "I don't wanna talk about him, though."

Will agrees, but it doesn't last long. It's strange just being alone together, without him. At first, Will was excited about that aspect of it-like a jealous child, glad to finally have Georgie to himself for once. They'd had moments together, but just moments, and tonight is an entire evening. But as the time goes by, it begins to feel more and more uncomfortable. It is achingly clear that neither of them are used to being without Skandar, but Georgie in particular-she ends up talking about him a great deal, in fact, because all of her anecdotes involve him, and every topic the conversation lands on can lead back to him somehow.

In some ways, Will doesn't mind it, because as the night goes on it becomes obvious that Skandar is one of the few things the two of them have in common, and the discomfort of the situation is alleviated a little when they speak of him. But it just makes Will more aware of the extent of Skandar and Georgie's attachment, of how unhealthy it might be. Ben's words ring in his ears, and though they remind him that he's doing a good thing, he's helping the two of them-it also makes him feel overwhelmingly guilty, keeping such a secret from Georgie as he sits with her and pretends that everything is fine.

It's easier in the cinema, after their meal, because they don't have to talk. They feel a little bit more like a normal teenage couple as they settle down at the back-though the film they're seeing is Up and the theatre is mostly full of children-and Georgie rests her head on his shoulder, snuggles up to him, and for the first time Will feels like he does actually have a girlfriend. The evening stands in stark contrast to the way they've been spending their time recently-pizza, Coke and a Pixar movie as opposed to wine and weed and group sex-but maybe it's a good thing, to have a change. All night, there isn't a single bet or dare, and Will tries to ignore the faint nagging feeling of something wrong and concentrate on how good it feels just to be with her, pretending there are no complications.

Back home, in the corridor of the flats, Will holds her back when she breezes past one of the doors. The door between his own and Skandar's.

"I want to see your room," he says, quietly, unsure of how she'll react.

"My room is Skandar's room," she says, grinning like he's making a joke.

"No, but-really, I want to see it. I've never seen it."

She hesitates a little longer, twisting her mouth in thought. And then, with a sigh, she opens her bag and begins to rummage around for the room key, finding it in a zipped pocket, clearly almost forgotten about. There's nothing much there, in the flat, and it's almost eerie the way it looks like no one has touched it for months. There are still piles of fresh towels stacked up by the door, nearly causing them to trip up, and the kitchen and living room are practically spotless. It's especially strange when compared to Skandar's, and Ben's, and Will's own flat-all places that look lived in, temporary homes.

Georgie, humming uncomfortably, tosses the key onto the counter and wanders through to the bedroom, running her fingers back through her hair. The bedroom is a little warmer, with a few odd things strewn about it, Georgie's empty suitcase lying in front of the wardrobe. A stuffed toy of a sheep is sitting neatly atop the pillows on the bed.

"Well. Ta-da," says Georgie sarcastically, waving her hands.

"I like it," says Will.

Georgie rolls her eyes.

"No, really. I like it."

And he does-it's kind of nice, in a way, to see a place that is purely Georgie's, untouched by Skandar. Their belongings have merged so much at Skandar's place that it's often difficult to tell what belongs to whom, but here, everything he sees is Georgie's. It's all things that she clearly doesn't need, doesn't use regularly, but for some reason it's still interesting to Will. To see this part of her.

He steps forward, clambers onto the bed. "Can I-?" he says, gesturing to the toy sheep.

Georgie blushes a little. "Uh huh."

Will picks it up, feels the softness of its wool under his fingers. It's sweet to think of Georgie having a stuffed toy in her bed, maybe cuddling it close to her as she sleeps, but he guesses she no longer needed it when she started sleeping with Skandar instead. He flops onto the bed, on his back, lying horizontally across it with the stuffed sheep sitting on his chest.

"Does it have a name?" he asks.

Georgie smiles. She looks a little bemused, and oddly out of place in her own bedroom. "No."

"No?" Will looks at the sheep again. "That's awful. Imagine not having a name."

"I just..." says Georgie, giggling, "I never bothered."

Will isn't quite sure that he believes her. Even he has given his stuffed animals names, and Georgie is a girl who has christened many things while Will has known her-the dog they often pass on their way to set, the ladybird they found in the shower one morning, as well as various inanimate objects.

"I think we should give it one," Will says. "What do you think of Benedict?"

Georgie snorts with laughter. "For a sheep?"

"Sebastian? Theodore? Clarence?"

Georgie shakes her head, still cracking up as she crosses the room.

"No? I quite like Sebastian. Sebastian the sheep. It's got that alliteration thing going on."

"No," giggles Georgie, reaching for the toy.

Will snatches it out of her grasp. "Why not?"

"It's silly."

"Well, what do you think?"

"I don't know."

Will tilts his head. "It already has a name, doesn't it?"

"No. Shut up. Just give it here." She's still grinning, but she's blushing again as she leans over him, trying to grab it. She comes round by his head to get closer, stretching over him, and the lacy fabric of her dress tickles his face.

"I'll give it to you if you tell me what it's called."

"Fine," Georgie relents, "he's called Casper."

Will loosens his grip and she leans over, snatching the sheep from his hands. She straightens up, still standing at his head as she holds the toy tenderly to her chest.

"That's not even embarrassing," Will says. "I thought it was going to be, like, Mister Woollyface or something."

Georgie bursts out laughing again, almost doubling over. Will's head rests against her thighs, and, as her laughter slowly fades, she parts them. Just a little, experimentally, as if to see what he might do. He lifts his chin, presses his mouth to white cotton.

"Oh," Georgie gasps.

For a moment, Will is confused. It sounds as though her cry is echoed, and he almost chalks it up to odd acoustics and her soft warm thighs pressed against his ears but then he hears it again-almost a shriek, muffled. Heard through the wall. It's followed by laughter, that of a woman, and then Skandar's. Unmistakeable.

Very, very slowly, Georgie shifts. Shuffles back from him. The sheer flowery fabric of her dress obscures Will's vision as it trails over his face and then he sees her go to the wall, press her ear to it, her face suddenly sombre and pale.

"Georgie?" he says gently.

She hisses at him, holding out a quivering hand. The laughter comes again, and then that cry, and low voices, too indistinct to make out. Will understands Georgie's shock, but at the same time he himself is not surprised. It seems typical of Skandar, but he wouldn't say so.

The sound of music begins to drift through, and it's nothing that Will recognises but suddenly Georgie is banging on the wall with both fists. "HEY," she shouts.

"Georgie, what are you doing?" Will asks, bewildered, stumbling to his feet from the bed and hurrying over to her.

She looks almost feral all of a sudden, her hair half covering her face, her eyes wild and reddened. She shoots him a furious look and continues to pound on the wall, but the music only gets louder until she's sobbing and Will is trying to hold her still.

"You'll hurt yourself," he says, panicked, pulling her arms back from the wall. "Hey. Hey, it's okay."

She collapses into his arms, crying, open and broken and loud, and Will flounders, holding her. He strokes her hair back from her face and tries to keep her on her feet as he leads her to the bed. But when he tries to sit her down she resists, pushing him away. Her face is red and he can't tell if it's from anger or embarrassment, if she's ashamed to let him see her this way.

"Just go," she snaps.

"I'm-I'm worried about y-"

"Just GO, all right?" she shouts, and throws herself down across the bed head-first, burying her face in the pillows.

Will stares helplessly, turning to leave. He looks back once, sees the sobs wracking her body once again as she reaches out, fumbles for the toy sheep and draws it close, holding it tight.

His Dad is up, still working, when he enters his own flat, tired and dazed.

"What was all that racket?" he demands, snatching off his glasses and getting to his feet.

Will rubs his face, wanting nothing more than to go straight to bed without any questions. "Can we talk in the morning?"

"What's going on?" his Dad snaps.

"We had a fight," Will bursts out, "we had a fight, okay? Just leave me alone."

He never talks to his parents like that, and he can see that his Dad is stunned, taken aback. But it seems to do the trick-he nods, faintly, hesitates but says nothing more. Will heads into his bedroom, stripping off as he goes, and then gets into bed, burying himself in the sheets. In the distance, he can hear the sound of Skandar's music, still playing, the same song on a loop until he falls asleep.

He wakes up in the early hours, disoriented. He hasn't slept here for quite a while and he's panicked to find himself alone in the bed, instinctively wondering where the others are and then-then remembering, curling in on himself.

***
They have work the next day. It's the last week, which Will has known for a while but can't quite bring himself to believe, and maybe it's because so much of filming has gone by in a blur, the acting (mostly) second-nature to him and taking a back seat to everything happening off set. When he thinks back, he remembers more about the moments in between, when the cameras were off, than the scenes themselves. He wonders if it's the same for the others.

Either way, they only have five days left. And then the wrap party. And then their flight back home.

Will doesn't want to think about it. He especially doesn't want to think about it now. As he gets ready, he dreads seeing them all. He imagines Georgie ignoring him, and Skandar too, and the two of them apart, maybe not talking to each other either. They're probably mad at him for his stupid date idea, for splitting them up, and Ben will probably ignore him too in order to avoid the awkwardness of their situation. It's amazing, Will thinks, how quickly things have changed. And all because of him, he's sure. Making that simple suggestion, just wanting to take Georgie out, let her know that she can exist without Skandar. And maybe she can't, and maybe he should have known that, or let her decide for herself instead of pushing it, making Skandar retaliate.

He thinks of the other night, trying to push aside the stab of shame as he instantly imagines Ben seeing the aftermath-he remembers being between the two of them, feeling their hands and mouths on him, and touching and tasting them too, everything coming so naturally, smooth and seamless and perfect...and how quickly it's been fractured, how quickly it will fall apart.

Skandar and Georgie are late onto set. Michael is more stressed than usual with only a few days to go, and the tension is almost unbearable. Will and Ben are silent, being dressed in the costume tent as Michael paces outside. They can hear him muttering angrily to people. Will has been avoiding Ben's eyes, but their gazes meet by mistake, and before Will has a chance to look away again Ben is rolling his eyes, shooting a look outside. He screws up his face in a grimace, a startlingly good impression of Michael, and Will cracks up. Outside, Michael is talking louder now and very sternly, though they can't work out what he's saying.

"We've got one more scene to do, and five whole days," Ben whispers, sighing, "you wouldn't think that'd be cause for stress."

Will grins at him, feeling the relief flood his body-and then there's a swish of fabric and they turn to see Skandar and Georgie arrive, looking just a little bit guilty. Will is surprised to see that their arms are linked, and that when they spot him, they smile. He smiles back, heart giving a little hopeful flutter in his chest. Ben looks a little more concerned.

"Where were you, then?" he says, and maybe it's not that noticeable to anyone else but Will can sense something strange in his voice, a hint of pretence. Ben is a wonderful actor, and maybe Will's imagining it, but it sounds a little bit like he's trying to cover his concern, pretend he doesn't know as much about their relationship as he does. "We thought Michael was going to explode."

Georgie wrinkles her nose. "Messy," she says, ignoring the question.

Before, Will is sure Ben would have pressed on, urged an answer, but now-now he lets it go.

The day goes well. It seems that Skandar and Georgie have made up, and are more than willing to forgive Will, though they don't act as though last night didn't happen. In fact, between takes, Skandar nudges Will in the ribs and says, "So how was your date last night?"

He sounds mocking, and it's something more than playful teasing. Will wonders if Georgie told him all about it, made it sound awful, and Skandar's now making fun of Will for asking her out in the first place.

"It was okay," he says noncommittally.

"What's this?" Ben asks.

"Will and Georgie went on a date."

Ben gives Will a surprised little half-smile. "You did?" Will nods. "Well well."

A pause.

"That's it?" Georgie asks. "No relentless teasing?"

Ben prods her on the nose. "I'm saving it for my best man speech at the wedding."

"Oh god," Georgie groans, burying her face in her hands.

Ben shoots Will a look, and he seems oddly thankful, and Will wonders if he should tell him later how the date really went, how it ended with Georgie sobbing over Skandar and how it may have done nothing but re-establish their closeness, remind them just how much they need and love each other. For now, he just nods, and Ben seems satisfied, reassured. Will doesn't want to worry him any further.

Will goes straight to Skandar and Georgie's after work, on their invitation. He enters the flat almost warily, as though afraid of what might have changed. The fort is gone, dismantled, the furniture back in its usual places. Things in general look a little neater, but something seems out of place and it takes Will a moment to pinpoint it, and then to fully recognise it. Draped over a hook by the door is a blue silky scarf, patterned with birds. It seems extremely familiar, but Will is sure he's never seen Georgie wear it-and then he remembers the photo, the Polaroid of the red-haired make-up girl kissing Skandar's cheek. He remembers the woman's laughter through the wall and he looks at Georgie, wondering if she's seen it, if she knows-

Quick as a flash, while Georgie's back is turned, Skandar grabs the scarf from the hook and stuffs it into the pocket of a coat that's hanging by the door as well. He grins sheepishly at Will, and Will, uncomfortable, doesn't return the smile. He's surprised to find that he's not just feeling sorry for Georgie, but he himself is hurt. It feels strange to think of someone else being in this flat. He feels possessive, betrayed-he's begun to think of it as theirs, and he wonders if Skandar slept with her here, in his bed. The bed the three of them share.

But even as he hurts, he wants to go back to that bed now, wants to take the two of them by the hand and lead them there and get under the covers and make it up to each other. Like nothing ever happened. Forget that Ben saw them, forget Ben's concerns, forget risk and danger and laws and rules. The three of them together, that's how it should be. That's when Will is at his happiest.

Georgie is stalking around the room in a way that suggests to Will that she too senses something different. The other woman's presence. It seems to matter, even though they knew she was here and they know that she's gone-something has changed.

Skandar crosses the room, intercepts her path. Takes her in his arms. He breathes something in his ear, maybe sorry, and she seems to melt against him, her face softening instantly.

He gestures for Will behind her back, and Will locks the door behind them and comes close, lets himself be enveloped by them.

"Come to bed," Skandar whispers this time, and they do.

***
"Why? Why do you need this?"

It's five days later, and Will feels angry at them like he never has before. He would never usually lash out, and maybe it's a sign of how close to them he's become, that he feels able to do this. And he's just so frustrated, he can't not speak up.

"Is it too boring otherwise? Isn't it enough just to-"

"Hey, chill," Georgie says, tossing back her hair and taking another slurp of her drink-the one Bacardi Breezer she has been allowed for the party. It is luridly orange and she's drinking it through a straw stuck in the bottle. "It's just a game."

"Yeah, if you're too chicken then whatever," Skandar adds, rolling his eyes as he leans against the wall. "We can go do it on our own."

Will hasn't backed down from a single bet, a single dare, since he met them, and he still can't say no to them now. Can't lose them. But it's infuriating that they feel the need to keep doing this; it feels like they're testing his loyalty and he's shown again and again that it's unwavering. He understood at first, he thinks-the game was an excuse, to do things they wouldn't have had the nerve to do otherwise. But for the past few days things have felt secure, almost perfect, and Will doesn't understand why that's not enough for them, why they need the risk and the excitement. It makes him feel like he's not enough.

Will swallows. "What are we going to do?" he asks.

Skandar smirks, picking up on the we and triumphant. "I dunno," he shrugs. "But there's been a dire lack of pranks played this time around and we need to remedy that."

The dare put forward was to sneak into Ben's room, but so far they haven't really elaborated as to why. Georgie has already managed to acquire Ben's key through some sort of distraction technique, and she's now dangling it in her other hand. Will doesn't want to do this. He doesn't want them to do it either, doesn't want them to be playing games anymore, but most of all he just doesn't want to sneak into Ben's room. It doesn't seem right, when Ben's shown him such kindness and understanding, kept their secret and made such an effort to keep the group dynamic the same.

But maybe it'll just be something small and silly, and maybe he's making too much of a big deal out of it. Maybe Ben will find it funny, whatever it is that they do, and it'll become an amusing anecdote to tell people about when they're promoting the film.

So he says "Fine," and the three of them slip out, Georgie still with her Bacardi Breezer, savouring it. They've rented out a pub for the wrap party, and it's just down the road from the condos, so it's a quick walk. Georgie tosses the key to Skandar and sips on her drink as he unlocks Ben's door. Will feels another stab of guilt as they walk in-Georgie skipping ahead as Skandar helps himself to some crisps from an open packet on the counter.

They wander through to Ben's bedroom, and the two of them start absentmindedly snooping.

"Do you even have a plan?" Will can't help but ask, a little sharply.

"I'm thinking, I'm thinking," Skandar says. "A good prank takes lots of forethought."

Will holds his tongue, wanting to ask why, exactly, then, they're in Ben's bedroom seemingly without any forethought at all.

"Let's call this research," Georgie adds, and then, opening drawers in the bedside table, suddenly squeals. "Oh my god!"

"What is it? A drawer full of condoms?" Skandar asks.

"No."

"Sex toys?"

"Ew, Skandar."

"What, then?"

Georgie holds up a book, giggling. "Ben keeps a diary, you guys!"

Will hurries over, instinct taking over as he takes the book from her hands. It's small, black, with little gold letters on the front spelling out the word 'journal'. His heart begins to pound. Of course, he trusted that Ben would not reveal their secret to anybody-but to write it down in a book of private thoughts is something else. Something far more plausible.

"Yeah, right," Skandar snorts from the other side of the room, disinterested, picking through the things scattered across Ben's dresser.

"Seriously," Georgie says, crossly, trying to take the book back from Will to show Skandar-but Will holds onto it tightly, not letting her. Wondering what it contains. "It says 'journal' on it, Skandar. It's a diary."

"He probably just uses it as a notebook or something," Skandar replies, but he's curious now, turning around.

"Well, let's open it and see," Georgie says, slowly, like she's talking to a couple of idiots, and tries once again to tug the book from Will's hands. She laughs at the resistance. "What?"

"We shouldn't," Will says, quietly, not meeting their eyes. "I mean, it's private."

Georgie rolls her eyes. "Oh yeah, like Ben has that many secrets."

Will frowns. "It doesn't matter, it's not our business."

"God, you're so boring," Georgie whines, and Will is hurt by the suddenness of it, the ease of the insult slipping from her tongue. "Let's just open one page and see if it is a diary. I'm not saying we have to read the whole thing."

"Yeah, just one page," Skandar speaks up, coming over to them now, curiosity growing. He exchanges a look with Georgie, one of those looks that tells Will they're having some silent, shared idea.

"Give it here," Georgie says, gesturing.

Will perches on the bed with it, shaking his head.

Georgie rolls her eyes and crouches down in front of him, looking up with big pleading eyes. "C'mon," she says. He shakes his head again, clutching the book more tightly and avoiding her gaze, like a sullen child. Georgie sighs. "Fine," she says, relenting, "fine, I promise I won't read anything. Just give it here." A pause. "Don't you trust me?"

And Will realises, then, with shocking, painful clarity-that he doesn't. He doesn't trust either of them. He loves them, fiercely, foolishly, passionately, but he does not trust them. And the sudden realisation makes him hesitate, makes his fingers go slack around the book, and then Georgie is snatching it from him with a triumphant "ha!", oblivious to his terrible revelation.

Holding the book away from her, the pages facing him, she flicks through it. Will can't help but look, and sees that it's filled with Ben's handwriting in blue biro, cramped uppercase and scribbled dates.

"Well?" Skandar asks, impatient.

"It's a diary," Will says, defeated.

Georgie makes another triumphant noise and then stops her flicking of the pages, landing on one somewhere near the middle.

"Georgie," Will pleads, "don't read it."

"I'm not going to," Georgie says, a twinkle in her eye, "you are, young William."

Will's heart flutters. "M-me?" he stammers. "Why?"

"Because it's a dare," Skandar steps in, smirking as he sinks down onto the floor beside Georgie, the two of them looking up at him like children waiting for a bedtime story.

Georgie places the open book on Will's lap, and his eyes flicker down to it. Maybe he can do this after all, he thinks, maybe it'll just be an entry about something that happened on set, a completely innocent and boring retelling of the day's events. But then he looks closer, and his heart sinks as he skims the two pages, catching glimpses. His own name, Skandar's, Georgie's-snippets of sentences about sex and worry and the fierce, insular attachment of the three of them-

He moves to shut the book, face burning, but Skandar is quicker, grabbing it from his lap before he has a chance to stop him. Grinning, shaking his head, ignoring Will's frantic protests, he looks down at the open diary. Will's heart sinks into the pit of his stomach, and he sees the way Skandar's smile fades, slow and painful, the way his face falls as his eyes dart back and forth across the pages. All he can do is stare. Georgie is growing more concerned.

"What? What is it, Skandar?" she asks, serious now, her lips frozen against the straw in her drink. She looks pale and worried. "Is something wrong with Ben?"

Face set, mouth a hard line, Skandar thrusts the book aside, sends it skidding across the floor. He stares at Will, unblinking, and Will has never seen him so furious-it looks as though he's too angry to even do anything, his whole body thrumming with it. Georgie quietly puts her drink aside, crawls across the floor to the book and leans down over it on all fours. There is a flicking of pages, and then silence. The silence aches, and then is suddenly broken.

Down the hall, a door clicks.

Footsteps.

Will buries his face in his hands, unable to deal with it anymore-the anticipation, Skandar's expression, Georgie's discovery. The footsteps stop and he senses Ben's arrival at the doorway. He hears a shaky inhale of breath, and then the sudden outburst, Georgie crying noisily and painfully. Through his fingers, he sees her still doubled over the diary, sobbing with all her heart. Ben goes to her, rushing across the room and knocking over her drink as he crouches down and cradles her in his arms, hands smoothing her hair. The drink spills out over his carpet and he doesn't seem to notice or care, just shushes her, murmuring it's okay. Will wonders how he can do that-lie so easily, so casually, when everything is going up in flames.

Will looks up slowly, terrified, and sees Skandar still staring at him. He can't quite imagine what Skandar feels-the same sick shame Will felt, perhaps, when he discovered that Ben knew, but made all the worse by the knowledge that Will kept it all from him.

He's startled to realise his face is wet, to realise that Georgie isn't the only one crying, that tears are streaming uncontrollably from his own eyes. An expression of something like disgust crosses Skandar's face.

"I'm sorry," Will blurts, and it comes out weak and watery, blubbered through his tears, pathetic. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry."

Skandar is leaping up so quickly that Will doesn't have a chance to process it-suddenly his whole face is lit up with pain and he's crumpled on Ben's bed. Ben is shouting, and Will's never heard him sound like that, livid, scolding Skandar, and it makes Will want to curl up and sob even though it's not directed at him. He realises, then, his hand pressed against his throbbing cheek, that Skandar hit him, and something twists in his stomach, the burning sting of regret. He just wants it all to stop, wants to turn back time, tell them, lock the door, do something-anything-different, to prevent this outcome.

Ben is helping him up, trying to pry Will's hand from his sore face to see the damage. He's murmuring something and Will can't even take it in. Skandar is yelling, Will thinks, but it could just be his own thoughts screaming at him, because everything he's saying is what Will is telling himself. He catches sight of Georgie, and the hurt in her eyes makes him want Skandar to hit him a second time. His heart is pounding so loud it's deafening, making his head ache, and it seems like every part of him hurts, inside and out.

There's a shout, a cheery sort of call, and he realises slowly that the pounding sound isn't just his own heartbeat-someone is knocking on Ben's door. Ben swears. Will looks at him, properly, and then wishes he hadn't. Ben looks utterly broken, lost, strung-out, helpless, and the new wave of guilt this brings almost knocks Will off his feet entirely.

"Shut up for a second, Skandar," Ben snaps. "Go tell whoever that is that we'll be back in a minute, and then get me some ice from the freezer."

There's a moment of stunned silence, and then Skandar spits, "Are you fucking serious?"

Ben turns, quietly furious. "Yes," he says.

Skandar is speechless, and they're too late-the door clicks once again, a voice calls out, the footsteps come a second time. And this time Will can't take it. He wrestles himself free from Ben's arms and runs, pushing past Michael on the way.

He doesn't stop until he reaches his bed, and even when he's lying face-down in it, his feet are still moving, thrashing and kicking, and he's screaming into his pillows, his world coming down around him.

It seems endless, but eventually his Dad comes in, up from the party. Will's head is throbbing, and he can't tell if it's from crying or from Skandar's fist.

"William," his Dad says sharply, but then he softens when he sees the state Will is in, and he goes to him, and Will hugs his father tightly without embarrassment, just needing him.

"I heard you got into an altercation with Skandar," his Dad says after a long moment, awkwardly patting at Will's shoulder. Will isn't sure what 'altercation' means, but he nods anyway. "Ben says Skandar and Georgie wanted to play a prank on him, and that you refused. Is that right?"

Will can do nothing but nod again. His whole body feels heavy, weighed down. He just wants to know how to make it all better, and he has the horrible feeling that it's too late for that.

"Well, I don't think that's anything to be so upset about," his Dad says, sounding a little bit confused. "You did the right thing."

Will shakes his head. He's glad that Ben covered for them, endlessly thankful, but he wishes his story hadn't painted Skandar and Georgie as the ones in the wrong.

"I'm going to get you some ice for that, okay?"

He gently eases out of Will's grip, heading into the kitchen, and Will wishes his Dad understood that he deserved that punch, that he deserves every bit of pain that it's bringing him. That he ought to take it again and again until he's paid them back for his betrayal. His eyes sting again but he can't cry, too tired, out of tears. When his Dad returns with ice cubes wrapped in paper towel, Will is crumpled on the bed, holding his pillows tightly. His Dad sighs softly, sits down beside him and gently presses the ice to his cheekbone. Will winces, but allows it.

"Did you and Georgie break up?" his Dad asks quietly.

Will nods, weakly. He can see the sympathy on his father's face and he doesn't think he deserves it. "I think..." his voice crumbles, "I think they both hate me, Dad."

He expects pointless reassurance, his Dad telling him no one could ever hate him or suggesting apologies and presents. But maybe his Dad's seen the two of them, maybe he knows that Will is right, because all he does is look thoughtful and sad for a moment.

Then he says, "At least you don't have to see them until the movie comes out."

And Will aches even more at that, because even if they despise him he wants to be with them, and the thought of never really being with them again, never touching them or kissing them again, going without them for months and then only seeing them to promote the movie-it absolutely breaks his heart.

***
In the morning, at the airport, they ignore him, and it's just as awful as he imagined. Worse, maybe. Ben tries to play mediator, but quickly gives up on the impossible task. He talks to Will, though, more than he talks to them-trying to be cheerful, perhaps reassuring Will that at the very least, he still has him. But it's not enough, and Will is in pain every time he looks at them, curled up together as close as the airport seats allow and not even looking that miserable, just wrapped up in each other once again. It reminds Will so much of how things used to be, at the beginning, how he used to see them together like that and wish he could go over and speak to them. The fact that he's back where he started, after everything they've been through, is almost too much to bear.

He excuses himself and goes to the toilets, staring blankly at his own face in the mirror, his blossoming black eye. When he comes out, he spots Skandar and Georgie in a quiet alcove by the window, Skandar's arm around Georgie as they watch the planes taking off.

He's scared to go over to them, but his legs seem to take him there of their own accord, as though even now he's still drawn to them uncontrollably.

Skandar spots him first. "Don't, Will, okay? We don't want to talk to you."

"I just-just, listen, okay, hear me out," Will begs. Neither of them protest, but Georgie's arms are folded defensively and Skandar's holding her close almost protectively and the way they seem united against him is so horrible, so hurtful. "I'm sorry," he says, taking a deep breath, "it was-it was Ben who told me not to tell you-" Georgie scoffs at this. "-but I'm not blaming him, I just-it wasn't entirely my decision but I know I shouldn't have kept a secret from you and if I could go back and do it differently I promise I would-I just want-" his voice quivers, breaks, "I want it to be the three of us again."

Skandar shakes his head. Keeps shaking it. Will, trembling, takes Skandar's hand, brings it to his own face, lets Skandar's knuckles touch the swollen part of his cheek where the bruise is.

"Feel this?" he says. Skandar snatches his hand back angrily. Their flight is being called over the tannoy. "That's-we don't fight, we-" he knows how stupid it sounds, but he doesn't care, "we love. We do this," he takes Georgie, kisses her firmly on the mouth, and Skandar shouts, grabbing him by the jacket and forcing him away from her. Will kisses him too, desperately, and gets pushed away. "Please," he begs, "please, tell me what I can do to fix this."

"Nothing," Skandar bites out, taking Georgie by the hand.

Will looks at her, pleadingly, and she just shakes her head at him, her eyes sorrowful but her mouth sure, a firm straight line as she squeezes Skandar's hand tightly. They turn their backs on him, and Will slumps against the wall, watches them go. After today, he won't see them for at least a year. He can't stand it, can't stand it. And it all seems so easy for them, to just cut him out of their lives without a second thought. Maybe that's what hurts the most; the realisation that perhaps they never felt the same way after all, that Will was fooling himself all along to think he could ever be as important to them as they are to each other.

He had longed for their friendship. He had been given more than he bargained for. And now-now he has nothing.

End.