The Tragedy of the Human Condition // five.
Title: The Tragedy of the Human Condition // five.
Author: minus_four
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Gabe/William
POV: 3rd, present
Summary: “You should be so fucking angry,” Gabe says, eyes fixed on the floor to the left of William. “Can’t you just. Hate me.” Gabe can see the movement in the corner of his eye, so he isn’t too surprised when William’s thumb presses gently under his chin, prompting Gabe to lift his head and look at William as he shakes his head at Gabe.
Disclaimer: To my knowledge these events depicted here are completely untrue. The title is a Midtown song.
Warnings: Mention of self harming actions. Potentially triggering aspects.
Author's notes: I know I suck. I don't blame anyone for not reading >_<.
(prologue) (one) (two) (three) (four)
“Are you...” Gabe swallows hard. “Have you...” He pauses, running his palm over his face before bringing his eyes back to meet William’s. “I know you didn’t want to get into this, and I’m sorry, Bill, I am. But... why are you here?”
The words aren’t entirely unexpected by any means, but all William can think, still, is Not now. Not yet. The thought echoes in his head as William stares at Gabe; all deer-in-headlights and just a little desperate - William knows it must be almost as obvious to Gabe as it is to himself, with every nerve and every brain cell screaming the fact, but he can’t help it. Despite the exact same thing having been going around and around in his own head since he’d stepped on that plane, William isn’t ready for this question.
Honestly, William had been hoping he wouldn’t have to answer it; that the ambiguous, almost non-response would have stayed enough like it was before. But no, Gabe isn’t going along with it this time. Maybe it’s the timing - William’s previous visits had only lasted a day at the most; more easily excused, not worth dragging shit back up for the sake of it, but this is different, now. This time… this is three days and counting. This is too much like the Old Days; bordering on domesticity to the point of being dangerous because it’s far, far too easy to slip back into it all and yet, somehow, at the same time it’s the hardest thing William has ever done (bar one, of course. Just one).
It’s harder than telling Tom he was out of the band, harder than it had been getting over the writer’s block for Santi… Just sitting here and making himself remember that this isn’t what it feels like. That it can’t be what it feels like.
They both know it, know exactly why, but Gabe is, apparently, still gonna sit here and make William say it.
It’s not like he can blame Gabe, but William hates it all the same.
And it’s been a long time since William let himself be angry about all this but now, looking at Gabe and seeing all the hurt and the exact same anger reflected in his eyes, it all flares up inside William, almost as strongly as it ever did. All the emotions, right there, and in no way diminished by lack of use.
“I…” William finally speaks, albeit just one syllable and barely that, but it’s a start. The trouble comes with not knowing how to follow it with any real words with real meaning, let alone the Truth. “I told you…” William’s voice starts off quiet; barely there, and then it’s all downhill toward silence.
Gabe, for his part, doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to, his eyes saying it all.
“If… If it had b-been the other way around, wouldn’t you have come?” William asks, voice somehow soft, still despite the tension in his chest, the tension that seems somehow tangible, hanging in the air between them.
“You know I would,” Gabe’s answer comes almost before William has finished asking the question, his next words falling into place only a second later. “Maybe I asked the wrong question.” Gabe sighs, and before William can question, pre-empt, perhaps even derail the inevitable, Gabe continues: “Maybe I should have asked… How can you be here?”
From the look on Gabe’s face William can tell that he wants to be saying the words about as much as William wants to hear them, but it doesn’t stop his stomach lurching as though the ground had shifted violently below them, despite nothing moving, nothing changing. Hell, William doesn’t even breathe for a good ten seconds or so.
Because I have to be, William wants to say. But he owes Gabe more than that.
Whatever the reason for it, Gabe wants this out-loud, out in the open. William wants to pinch himself, force himself to wake up from a nightmare, all the worst memories relived like they are sometimes in his dreams. Instead, William takes a few moments to pull the words together and steel himself.
“I. Um.” William clears his throat, but the words don’t come out any clearer, his voice still hesitant and quiet. “I don’t know if I can be here. I mean… but I haven’t - I haven’t… I just went. I didn’t leave leave, but I don’t know…” And fuck. This was why William hadn’t let himself think too much about it all. His stomach clenches almost painfully at the thought of the choice he might have made by default, almost without meaning to - though William knows he can’t beg out of this by way of ‘I didn’t know’, because he never let himself think about it, which is just as bad. Maybe even worse, in some way, the regret of ‘wikipedia nonsense’ all over again.
William watches the muscles in Gabe’s throat tighten as he turns his head just slightly, shifting his gaze just enough to stare over William’s shoulder rather than look him in the eye. William fights the sudden urge to apologise, but it wouldn’t be anything he hadn’t said more than once before, long ago but like it was just yesterday. “Gabe… please. You know it’s not -” William kicks himself inwardly when he falters over the name. “It’s n-not for Christine that I want to… that I need to…” Gabe still won’t look at him properly, and it’s worse, so much worse than William had let himself imagine just minutes ago. “Gabe,” William barely breathes out the syllable along with the next; “please.”
-
Gabe doesn't mean to do it, but the huff of dry laughter escapes him almost before he can realise.
"I really am out of my fucking mind, bringing this shit up," he says quietly, barely even caring about the guilt and sadness that colors William's eyes and hey, that's new, not caring about that, "but how long was I meant to ignore it, keep wondering if you just here, or... here, and now I know, I guess. And now..." Gabe looks away, staring at the muted TV and the soundless scene playing out onscreen for a moment or two. Running his palm across his face, Gabe forces himself to look at William again, finding more anger in his voice than he'd intended when he says, "You need to go home."
William's mouth drops open slightly, and Gabe can almost see the cogs working behind his eyes, as many different emotions passing as seconds in time while William just stares at him."Gabe," barely a whisper, that's all, then a few seconds later; "I'm not leaving. I c-can't just leave. Just - just let me -"
“No. You know what? Let me show you.” In the back of his mind part of Gabe is telling the rest of him: No, stop, but it’s just not enough to keep himself from speaking and doing and reacting, all fueled by the fall out of tension.
Like a guitar string pulled too tight, Gabe is breaking.
He gets up quickly, heading for the door in just a few strides. William gets there a second later, pressing his hand firmly against the door to push it shut again as soon as Gabe yanks it open.
“Damn it, Bill!” Gabe’s hand curls into a fist and the jolt of pain hits almost before the realisation of the action when he slams it into the door. Gabe closes his eyes for a second, the decision free falling through his mind. Taking a couple of shallow breaths in and out, Gabe focuses on the action, its simplicity and how controlled it feels.
Shifting the position of his fist slightly, Gabe draws back his arm again, ready for another punch, maybe a dozen - maybe just enough to forget all this shit.
It’s a split second until Gabe’s eyes snap open and already too late, his arm already in motion, and he only feels William grab his hand just as he throws it forward with all his strength.
The impact is less this time; cushioned by William’s hand as it slams into the door, but hits Gabe so much harder. The movement jerks William forward - hardly a shock, considering his lack of body mass (some things don’t change) - and he’s swung around, shoulder hitting the door frame, and William stays there, leaning against it even once Gabe’s arm has dropped to his side.
William cradles his own hand with the other, closing his eyes as he makes a low noise in the back of his throat, somewhere between a grunt and the smallest of groans. Gabe opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. No words are good enough.
Time was, the way William is standing, his hair would have fallen down to partly hide his face, but no such luck now and Gabe has to look at the tightness etched on William’s features; can’t see anything else.
It feels like minutes pass, but in reality it’s only a moment or two before William opens his eyes, straightening up to stand free from the doorframe. Gabe’s mind takes a second out, then, to note how reality and himself don’t seem to match up that often, these days.
“Are you okay?” William asks, and there’s nothing - nothing there but pure concern, and caring, and fuck, Gabe only feels worse for it.
Not answering, Gabe backs away, feet moving mindlessly for a dozen steps or so until his back hits the kitchen counter and he can let himself slide down against it to sit on the floor with a soft thump.
William follows, stopping just short of Gabe and then folding his legs under himself to sit cross-legged, facing Gabe. He doesn’t say anything else, not yet, and it’s a minute before Gabe finds his own words.
“You should be so fucking angry,” Gabe says, eyes fixed on the floor to the left of William. “Can’t you just. Hate me.” Gabe can see the movement in the corner of his eye, so he isn’t too surprised when William’s thumb presses gently under his chin, prompting Gabe to lift his head and look at William as he shakes his head at Gabe.
William gives Gabe the smallest of smiles, his mouth barely moving until he actually speaks, voice soft but resolute. “Never could.”
Gabe shakes his head, pulling away from William’s touch and William lets him, lets Gabe drop his gaze again as he starts speaking again. “I told myself… that I wasn’t going to do this.” Gabe swallows hard, his left index finger tracing the tile edges on the floor around him just to have something else to do, to focus on when he forces himself to meet William’s eyes again. “Not this shit. Not to you. Fuck.” Gabe tips his head back to rest against the cupboard door behind him.
“I didn’t have to get in the way,” William replies, and Gabe just scoffs, shifting his head just enough to give William a look. “It was my choice,” he adds, tone more insistent when he goes on; “just like it’s my choice to be here right now. You didn’t kidnap me, lock me in the basement…” A smile twitches at Gabe’s lips before he can stop it. “But… but i-if.” William falters and Gabe finds himself sitting up a little straighter, suddenly more focused as he waits for William to finish. He watches William pause, taking a deep breath to steady himself, steady the words he’s trying to get out. “If it’s worse that I’m here, and you really want me to go… I can call - I could…” William doesn’t complete the sentence this time, doesn’t really try, and Gabe wonders whether it’s a case of can’t or won’t.
Gabe laughs; just letting out a breath of air, really. “No offence, Bill, but at this point I don’t think it’s gonna make that much difference.” He sighs, bringing one hand up to rake through his hair. “If it wasn’t you I got mad at it would’ve been something else, someone else - myself…” Gabe shrugs, but then he purposefully brings his eyes back to fix on William’s. It takes a moment - a moment of Gabe wrestling with his thoughts, thoughts of absolution and resolution, truth and honesty, and how he owes William something. Maybe himself, too, if Gabe can admit that. “Having you here. It’s been… hard, yeah, but also really fucking great. …But. That doesn’t change the fact you shouldn’t be here.”
Gabe expects more denial, or placations, some vague response, so what he does get back from William shocks him, just a little.
“I know.”
William leans forward, elbows on his knees and one wrist resting on top of the other. He looks down for a few seconds, shoulders rising and falling with his breaths. Gabe frowns, waiting. He doesn’t know why he’s quite this surprised to hear the truth from William when he knew it just as well himself before the confession: William being here has always been just a step away from cheating (if that, if Gabe’s being truly honest with himself).
And what to say to that? Gabe runs a hundred words through his head, more truths and lies and everything in between. ‘It’s okay?’ It isn’t. ‘What are we doing?’ They’ve been through that, and it isn’t as though there’ll be a straight up answer suddenly like magic from nowhere. They’re stuck.
Gabe takes the closest thing to coward’s-way-out in his reach. “Is your hand okay?”
William lifts his head, looking slightly surprised for a second, as though he’d forgotten. Then he raises his right hand in front of them, stretching his fingers out and curling them into a loose fist. Repeating the movement a couple of times, William shrugs. “Seems to be. I mean. Hurts a bit, but it’s okay.” William puts a little more emphasis on the last words - Gabe doesn’t miss it, but he can’t accept it either. William keeps the eye contact for a little longer before nodding at Gabe’s hand. “What about yours?”
Lifting his own right hand, Gabe echoes William’s previous action, shrugging one shoulder at the way the bones in the side of his hand hurt a little, feel like they shift under his skin in that not-quite-right way, but it’s nothing Gabe hasn’t felt before in his life.
What he notices more than anything, holding his hand straight out in front of them, is how his fingers are trembling. It’s nothing terrible, but it’s enough to be visible and Gabe just. Hates it.
“Fuck,” he breathes out.
William reaches forward and taps Gabe’s knee a couple of times. “Hey,” he says, and Gabe raises one eyebrow; yeah? “Remember how we haven’t eaten in a while? Low blood sugar and all that.” William shifts, awkwardly manoeuvring his long legs out from under himself so he can kneel instead before tell Gabe, “I’m getting cereal. You want some?”
“At six pm?” Gabe shakes his head, smiling, but before he can react in any other way William’s already up and opening cupboards. And almost before Gabe really considers getting up himself, William is already putting down boxes beside him, following them with two bowls, spoons, and the carton of milk from the fridge.
When William comes back for the last time he sits down next to Gabe instead, leaning over to drag one of the bowls over the tiles to sit between his legs, then grabbing the box of frosted flakes. “I’m not pouring it for you, too, you know,” he teases, nudging Gabe with his elbow.
“See if I come here again. The service is crap,” Gabe tosses the comment right back and William grins down at his bowl as he tips the cereal into it. His gut reaction is to let his mind stay fixed on all the shit, let it pull him back down; it’s what he’s good at lately. Instead, Gabe grabs a box of cereal.
“So…” William starts, reaching across Gabe for the milk, “what does this remind you of?”
“Besides breakfast?” Gabe smiles when William rolls his eyes. “Yeah. I got it,” Gabe goes on, looking ahead of them at nothing in particular as he remembers. “The great tour tradition of Floor Breakfast.”
And Gabe can remember it so well.
After a big night - not that any night during Warped or any other tour was exactly quiet - they would often end up on the floor of a bus’s common area rather than both squashing into one or the other’s bunk, and once they eventually woke up there was never any real reason to move unless they were late for sound check or something. Then whoever lost the thumb war had to get up and bring the breakfast back (and it was always, always William, beside the few times Gabe let him win).
There’s an ache in his chest Gabe can’t push away. He doesn’t really want to try, though. It’s good to remember, and that’s kind of new. And… nice. “Good times,” he says quietly, shaking himself back into the present enough to take the carton of milk William is offering him. William just nods in reply, a not-quite-here look in his eyes, and Gabe knows he’s reliving the exact same memories. Gabe almost says the ‘I wish…’ that suddenly pushes its way up into his throat, but Gabe swallows it back down just in time. It isn’t worth it.
Suddenly remembering something else, some small detail, Gabe puts the milk carton down on the tile next to him. Cereal still dry, Gabe holds the bowl in one hand, and with the other picks out a couple of the tiny marshmallows amongst the cereal shapes (“Lucky Charms. Still?” William had asked him, the morning after they’d come back from the hospital, and Gabe had just shrugged; “Duh.”).
Gabe tosses the marshmallows into William’s bowl, picking out a few more even as William speaks, reciting the words more than just saying them.
“But they’re the best part,” William’s voice is quiet, cautious, and Gabe can understand that. It feels dangerous, playing this out, as innocent as it all seems.
Gabe steels himself a little, but he’s started it now. Gabe takes a breath, steadying himself. If he’s doing this, he isn’t screwing up. Not this.
Gabe turns his head towards William just as he looks up himself. “You’re the best part,” Gabe tells William with a small smile, dropping three more marshmallows into William’s cereal; all three of them tiny pink hearts.
Back then, there wasn’t much talking after that. But in the here and now, William half smiles, the expression as empty as the silence hanging heavy in the air as he turns his head, looking away.
Gabe is back at the crossroads again - push it on forward or make it easier on them both.
He nudges William’s thigh gently with his own. “Cereal’s getting soggy.”
William turns back to look at him, huffing out a laugh as he says, “Yeah, thanks,” and pokes at his cereal with the spoon in his hand.
They take a minute or two, the two of them just eating in silence, and it’s more than slightly awkward, like a movie paused in the wrong place or something, with so many things left unsaid, not played out as they should be.
Gabe lets it all lie, though, just thinking to himself for a little while. He shifts slightly, sitting up a bit and moving over, closing the few inches and putting himself shoulder to shoulder with William. “I do want to get out of here,” he says, and William starts a little, giving Gabe a sideways glance. “No. Just -” Gabe goes on quickly. “Like, go somewhere. Drive out of the city. Just get out. You know?”
William nods, with a ‘why not’ sort of expression. “Two things, though,” William begins, putting his cereal bowl down on the floor between his legs and wiping his hand across his mouth. “One; can I come?” Gabe makes a ‘pfft’ noise, and laughs. William smiles back. “And two; we should let the guys know, and depending when, where, and how long, we should probably check with your doctor and stuff, I don’t know.”
Gabe mock-frowns at William. “Way to be a buzz kill, Beckett.”
“It’s what I do.” William shrugs in response; pointedly uncaring. “I mean, remember when you wanted to get those cheap tickets to Rome, but by the time I’d finished doing my research they’d already gone?”
“Yeah. You really are annoying,” Gabe answers, poker-faced, but William just grins at him.
“You love me.”
And. Oh. Yeah. Gabe fights to fill his lungs with air for a few seconds, because… yeah, buzz kill. Okay. William freezes for a split second too.
A moment later, though, Gabe kicks himself into answering, at least some attempt at casual, normal. “Eh, you’re alright.” Gabe nudges William, who nudges him right back. The look in his eyes is light and playful, the exact echo of those same eyes years ago now, when a more than slightly tipsy William would challenge people to wrestle and Gabe would end up either literally dragging him away or letting one of the Academy guys do it whilst talking down the other party if they’d already gotten way too into it.
Gabe thinks about it; thinks about nudging him back again, starting that fire going and allowing them to fall right into it through the excuse, the possibility of ‘It just happened’ that could be so easy.
He doesn’t, though. Instead, Gabe just leans over, pressing his mouth to William’s temple in a quick, barely-even-there kiss. And then he’s getting up, grabbing his cereal bowl and dumping it in the sink before turning back to look down at William, still sitting on the floor. William just looks up at Gabe, something just this side of unreadable written on his features, hiding just behind his eyes.
Gabe gestures in the general direction of the spare room. “I’ve got a road map somewhere, I think. So I’m gonna go…”
William nods, then dropping his head to look down at the bowl in his hands, stirring the remnants of the cereal around aimlessly. Another day and Gabe might have asked William if he was gonna get on and eat it or settle down and marry it already, but… not today.
On this day, Gabe just walks into the other room to look for the map, and although Gabe tries not to think about why too much, yeah. He takes his time doing it.
Author: minus_four
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Gabe/William
POV: 3rd, present
Summary: “You should be so fucking angry,” Gabe says, eyes fixed on the floor to the left of William. “Can’t you just. Hate me.” Gabe can see the movement in the corner of his eye, so he isn’t too surprised when William’s thumb presses gently under his chin, prompting Gabe to lift his head and look at William as he shakes his head at Gabe.
Disclaimer: To my knowledge these events depicted here are completely untrue. The title is a Midtown song.
Warnings: Mention of self harming actions. Potentially triggering aspects.
Author's notes: I know I suck. I don't blame anyone for not reading >_<.
(prologue) (one) (two) (three) (four)
“Are you...” Gabe swallows hard. “Have you...” He pauses, running his palm over his face before bringing his eyes back to meet William’s. “I know you didn’t want to get into this, and I’m sorry, Bill, I am. But... why are you here?”
The words aren’t entirely unexpected by any means, but all William can think, still, is Not now. Not yet. The thought echoes in his head as William stares at Gabe; all deer-in-headlights and just a little desperate - William knows it must be almost as obvious to Gabe as it is to himself, with every nerve and every brain cell screaming the fact, but he can’t help it. Despite the exact same thing having been going around and around in his own head since he’d stepped on that plane, William isn’t ready for this question.
Honestly, William had been hoping he wouldn’t have to answer it; that the ambiguous, almost non-response would have stayed enough like it was before. But no, Gabe isn’t going along with it this time. Maybe it’s the timing - William’s previous visits had only lasted a day at the most; more easily excused, not worth dragging shit back up for the sake of it, but this is different, now. This time… this is three days and counting. This is too much like the Old Days; bordering on domesticity to the point of being dangerous because it’s far, far too easy to slip back into it all and yet, somehow, at the same time it’s the hardest thing William has ever done (bar one, of course. Just one).
It’s harder than telling Tom he was out of the band, harder than it had been getting over the writer’s block for Santi… Just sitting here and making himself remember that this isn’t what it feels like. That it can’t be what it feels like.
They both know it, know exactly why, but Gabe is, apparently, still gonna sit here and make William say it.
It’s not like he can blame Gabe, but William hates it all the same.
And it’s been a long time since William let himself be angry about all this but now, looking at Gabe and seeing all the hurt and the exact same anger reflected in his eyes, it all flares up inside William, almost as strongly as it ever did. All the emotions, right there, and in no way diminished by lack of use.
“I…” William finally speaks, albeit just one syllable and barely that, but it’s a start. The trouble comes with not knowing how to follow it with any real words with real meaning, let alone the Truth. “I told you…” William’s voice starts off quiet; barely there, and then it’s all downhill toward silence.
Gabe, for his part, doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to, his eyes saying it all.
“If… If it had b-been the other way around, wouldn’t you have come?” William asks, voice somehow soft, still despite the tension in his chest, the tension that seems somehow tangible, hanging in the air between them.
“You know I would,” Gabe’s answer comes almost before William has finished asking the question, his next words falling into place only a second later. “Maybe I asked the wrong question.” Gabe sighs, and before William can question, pre-empt, perhaps even derail the inevitable, Gabe continues: “Maybe I should have asked… How can you be here?”
From the look on Gabe’s face William can tell that he wants to be saying the words about as much as William wants to hear them, but it doesn’t stop his stomach lurching as though the ground had shifted violently below them, despite nothing moving, nothing changing. Hell, William doesn’t even breathe for a good ten seconds or so.
Because I have to be, William wants to say. But he owes Gabe more than that.
Whatever the reason for it, Gabe wants this out-loud, out in the open. William wants to pinch himself, force himself to wake up from a nightmare, all the worst memories relived like they are sometimes in his dreams. Instead, William takes a few moments to pull the words together and steel himself.
“I. Um.” William clears his throat, but the words don’t come out any clearer, his voice still hesitant and quiet. “I don’t know if I can be here. I mean… but I haven’t - I haven’t… I just went. I didn’t leave leave, but I don’t know…” And fuck. This was why William hadn’t let himself think too much about it all. His stomach clenches almost painfully at the thought of the choice he might have made by default, almost without meaning to - though William knows he can’t beg out of this by way of ‘I didn’t know’, because he never let himself think about it, which is just as bad. Maybe even worse, in some way, the regret of ‘wikipedia nonsense’ all over again.
William watches the muscles in Gabe’s throat tighten as he turns his head just slightly, shifting his gaze just enough to stare over William’s shoulder rather than look him in the eye. William fights the sudden urge to apologise, but it wouldn’t be anything he hadn’t said more than once before, long ago but like it was just yesterday. “Gabe… please. You know it’s not -” William kicks himself inwardly when he falters over the name. “It’s n-not for Christine that I want to… that I need to…” Gabe still won’t look at him properly, and it’s worse, so much worse than William had let himself imagine just minutes ago. “Gabe,” William barely breathes out the syllable along with the next; “please.”
-
Gabe doesn't mean to do it, but the huff of dry laughter escapes him almost before he can realise.
"I really am out of my fucking mind, bringing this shit up," he says quietly, barely even caring about the guilt and sadness that colors William's eyes and hey, that's new, not caring about that, "but how long was I meant to ignore it, keep wondering if you just here, or... here, and now I know, I guess. And now..." Gabe looks away, staring at the muted TV and the soundless scene playing out onscreen for a moment or two. Running his palm across his face, Gabe forces himself to look at William again, finding more anger in his voice than he'd intended when he says, "You need to go home."
William's mouth drops open slightly, and Gabe can almost see the cogs working behind his eyes, as many different emotions passing as seconds in time while William just stares at him."Gabe," barely a whisper, that's all, then a few seconds later; "I'm not leaving. I c-can't just leave. Just - just let me -"
“No. You know what? Let me show you.” In the back of his mind part of Gabe is telling the rest of him: No, stop, but it’s just not enough to keep himself from speaking and doing and reacting, all fueled by the fall out of tension.
Like a guitar string pulled too tight, Gabe is breaking.
He gets up quickly, heading for the door in just a few strides. William gets there a second later, pressing his hand firmly against the door to push it shut again as soon as Gabe yanks it open.
“Damn it, Bill!” Gabe’s hand curls into a fist and the jolt of pain hits almost before the realisation of the action when he slams it into the door. Gabe closes his eyes for a second, the decision free falling through his mind. Taking a couple of shallow breaths in and out, Gabe focuses on the action, its simplicity and how controlled it feels.
Shifting the position of his fist slightly, Gabe draws back his arm again, ready for another punch, maybe a dozen - maybe just enough to forget all this shit.
It’s a split second until Gabe’s eyes snap open and already too late, his arm already in motion, and he only feels William grab his hand just as he throws it forward with all his strength.
The impact is less this time; cushioned by William’s hand as it slams into the door, but hits Gabe so much harder. The movement jerks William forward - hardly a shock, considering his lack of body mass (some things don’t change) - and he’s swung around, shoulder hitting the door frame, and William stays there, leaning against it even once Gabe’s arm has dropped to his side.
William cradles his own hand with the other, closing his eyes as he makes a low noise in the back of his throat, somewhere between a grunt and the smallest of groans. Gabe opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. No words are good enough.
Time was, the way William is standing, his hair would have fallen down to partly hide his face, but no such luck now and Gabe has to look at the tightness etched on William’s features; can’t see anything else.
It feels like minutes pass, but in reality it’s only a moment or two before William opens his eyes, straightening up to stand free from the doorframe. Gabe’s mind takes a second out, then, to note how reality and himself don’t seem to match up that often, these days.
“Are you okay?” William asks, and there’s nothing - nothing there but pure concern, and caring, and fuck, Gabe only feels worse for it.
Not answering, Gabe backs away, feet moving mindlessly for a dozen steps or so until his back hits the kitchen counter and he can let himself slide down against it to sit on the floor with a soft thump.
William follows, stopping just short of Gabe and then folding his legs under himself to sit cross-legged, facing Gabe. He doesn’t say anything else, not yet, and it’s a minute before Gabe finds his own words.
“You should be so fucking angry,” Gabe says, eyes fixed on the floor to the left of William. “Can’t you just. Hate me.” Gabe can see the movement in the corner of his eye, so he isn’t too surprised when William’s thumb presses gently under his chin, prompting Gabe to lift his head and look at William as he shakes his head at Gabe.
William gives Gabe the smallest of smiles, his mouth barely moving until he actually speaks, voice soft but resolute. “Never could.”
Gabe shakes his head, pulling away from William’s touch and William lets him, lets Gabe drop his gaze again as he starts speaking again. “I told myself… that I wasn’t going to do this.” Gabe swallows hard, his left index finger tracing the tile edges on the floor around him just to have something else to do, to focus on when he forces himself to meet William’s eyes again. “Not this shit. Not to you. Fuck.” Gabe tips his head back to rest against the cupboard door behind him.
“I didn’t have to get in the way,” William replies, and Gabe just scoffs, shifting his head just enough to give William a look. “It was my choice,” he adds, tone more insistent when he goes on; “just like it’s my choice to be here right now. You didn’t kidnap me, lock me in the basement…” A smile twitches at Gabe’s lips before he can stop it. “But… but i-if.” William falters and Gabe finds himself sitting up a little straighter, suddenly more focused as he waits for William to finish. He watches William pause, taking a deep breath to steady himself, steady the words he’s trying to get out. “If it’s worse that I’m here, and you really want me to go… I can call - I could…” William doesn’t complete the sentence this time, doesn’t really try, and Gabe wonders whether it’s a case of can’t or won’t.
Gabe laughs; just letting out a breath of air, really. “No offence, Bill, but at this point I don’t think it’s gonna make that much difference.” He sighs, bringing one hand up to rake through his hair. “If it wasn’t you I got mad at it would’ve been something else, someone else - myself…” Gabe shrugs, but then he purposefully brings his eyes back to fix on William’s. It takes a moment - a moment of Gabe wrestling with his thoughts, thoughts of absolution and resolution, truth and honesty, and how he owes William something. Maybe himself, too, if Gabe can admit that. “Having you here. It’s been… hard, yeah, but also really fucking great. …But. That doesn’t change the fact you shouldn’t be here.”
Gabe expects more denial, or placations, some vague response, so what he does get back from William shocks him, just a little.
“I know.”
William leans forward, elbows on his knees and one wrist resting on top of the other. He looks down for a few seconds, shoulders rising and falling with his breaths. Gabe frowns, waiting. He doesn’t know why he’s quite this surprised to hear the truth from William when he knew it just as well himself before the confession: William being here has always been just a step away from cheating (if that, if Gabe’s being truly honest with himself).
And what to say to that? Gabe runs a hundred words through his head, more truths and lies and everything in between. ‘It’s okay?’ It isn’t. ‘What are we doing?’ They’ve been through that, and it isn’t as though there’ll be a straight up answer suddenly like magic from nowhere. They’re stuck.
Gabe takes the closest thing to coward’s-way-out in his reach. “Is your hand okay?”
William lifts his head, looking slightly surprised for a second, as though he’d forgotten. Then he raises his right hand in front of them, stretching his fingers out and curling them into a loose fist. Repeating the movement a couple of times, William shrugs. “Seems to be. I mean. Hurts a bit, but it’s okay.” William puts a little more emphasis on the last words - Gabe doesn’t miss it, but he can’t accept it either. William keeps the eye contact for a little longer before nodding at Gabe’s hand. “What about yours?”
Lifting his own right hand, Gabe echoes William’s previous action, shrugging one shoulder at the way the bones in the side of his hand hurt a little, feel like they shift under his skin in that not-quite-right way, but it’s nothing Gabe hasn’t felt before in his life.
What he notices more than anything, holding his hand straight out in front of them, is how his fingers are trembling. It’s nothing terrible, but it’s enough to be visible and Gabe just. Hates it.
“Fuck,” he breathes out.
William reaches forward and taps Gabe’s knee a couple of times. “Hey,” he says, and Gabe raises one eyebrow; yeah? “Remember how we haven’t eaten in a while? Low blood sugar and all that.” William shifts, awkwardly manoeuvring his long legs out from under himself so he can kneel instead before tell Gabe, “I’m getting cereal. You want some?”
“At six pm?” Gabe shakes his head, smiling, but before he can react in any other way William’s already up and opening cupboards. And almost before Gabe really considers getting up himself, William is already putting down boxes beside him, following them with two bowls, spoons, and the carton of milk from the fridge.
When William comes back for the last time he sits down next to Gabe instead, leaning over to drag one of the bowls over the tiles to sit between his legs, then grabbing the box of frosted flakes. “I’m not pouring it for you, too, you know,” he teases, nudging Gabe with his elbow.
“See if I come here again. The service is crap,” Gabe tosses the comment right back and William grins down at his bowl as he tips the cereal into it. His gut reaction is to let his mind stay fixed on all the shit, let it pull him back down; it’s what he’s good at lately. Instead, Gabe grabs a box of cereal.
“So…” William starts, reaching across Gabe for the milk, “what does this remind you of?”
“Besides breakfast?” Gabe smiles when William rolls his eyes. “Yeah. I got it,” Gabe goes on, looking ahead of them at nothing in particular as he remembers. “The great tour tradition of Floor Breakfast.”
And Gabe can remember it so well.
After a big night - not that any night during Warped or any other tour was exactly quiet - they would often end up on the floor of a bus’s common area rather than both squashing into one or the other’s bunk, and once they eventually woke up there was never any real reason to move unless they were late for sound check or something. Then whoever lost the thumb war had to get up and bring the breakfast back (and it was always, always William, beside the few times Gabe let him win).
There’s an ache in his chest Gabe can’t push away. He doesn’t really want to try, though. It’s good to remember, and that’s kind of new. And… nice. “Good times,” he says quietly, shaking himself back into the present enough to take the carton of milk William is offering him. William just nods in reply, a not-quite-here look in his eyes, and Gabe knows he’s reliving the exact same memories. Gabe almost says the ‘I wish…’ that suddenly pushes its way up into his throat, but Gabe swallows it back down just in time. It isn’t worth it.
Suddenly remembering something else, some small detail, Gabe puts the milk carton down on the tile next to him. Cereal still dry, Gabe holds the bowl in one hand, and with the other picks out a couple of the tiny marshmallows amongst the cereal shapes (“Lucky Charms. Still?” William had asked him, the morning after they’d come back from the hospital, and Gabe had just shrugged; “Duh.”).
Gabe tosses the marshmallows into William’s bowl, picking out a few more even as William speaks, reciting the words more than just saying them.
“But they’re the best part,” William’s voice is quiet, cautious, and Gabe can understand that. It feels dangerous, playing this out, as innocent as it all seems.
Gabe steels himself a little, but he’s started it now. Gabe takes a breath, steadying himself. If he’s doing this, he isn’t screwing up. Not this.
Gabe turns his head towards William just as he looks up himself. “You’re the best part,” Gabe tells William with a small smile, dropping three more marshmallows into William’s cereal; all three of them tiny pink hearts.
Back then, there wasn’t much talking after that. But in the here and now, William half smiles, the expression as empty as the silence hanging heavy in the air as he turns his head, looking away.
Gabe is back at the crossroads again - push it on forward or make it easier on them both.
He nudges William’s thigh gently with his own. “Cereal’s getting soggy.”
William turns back to look at him, huffing out a laugh as he says, “Yeah, thanks,” and pokes at his cereal with the spoon in his hand.
They take a minute or two, the two of them just eating in silence, and it’s more than slightly awkward, like a movie paused in the wrong place or something, with so many things left unsaid, not played out as they should be.
Gabe lets it all lie, though, just thinking to himself for a little while. He shifts slightly, sitting up a bit and moving over, closing the few inches and putting himself shoulder to shoulder with William. “I do want to get out of here,” he says, and William starts a little, giving Gabe a sideways glance. “No. Just -” Gabe goes on quickly. “Like, go somewhere. Drive out of the city. Just get out. You know?”
William nods, with a ‘why not’ sort of expression. “Two things, though,” William begins, putting his cereal bowl down on the floor between his legs and wiping his hand across his mouth. “One; can I come?” Gabe makes a ‘pfft’ noise, and laughs. William smiles back. “And two; we should let the guys know, and depending when, where, and how long, we should probably check with your doctor and stuff, I don’t know.”
Gabe mock-frowns at William. “Way to be a buzz kill, Beckett.”
“It’s what I do.” William shrugs in response; pointedly uncaring. “I mean, remember when you wanted to get those cheap tickets to Rome, but by the time I’d finished doing my research they’d already gone?”
“Yeah. You really are annoying,” Gabe answers, poker-faced, but William just grins at him.
“You love me.”
And. Oh. Yeah. Gabe fights to fill his lungs with air for a few seconds, because… yeah, buzz kill. Okay. William freezes for a split second too.
A moment later, though, Gabe kicks himself into answering, at least some attempt at casual, normal. “Eh, you’re alright.” Gabe nudges William, who nudges him right back. The look in his eyes is light and playful, the exact echo of those same eyes years ago now, when a more than slightly tipsy William would challenge people to wrestle and Gabe would end up either literally dragging him away or letting one of the Academy guys do it whilst talking down the other party if they’d already gotten way too into it.
Gabe thinks about it; thinks about nudging him back again, starting that fire going and allowing them to fall right into it through the excuse, the possibility of ‘It just happened’ that could be so easy.
He doesn’t, though. Instead, Gabe just leans over, pressing his mouth to William’s temple in a quick, barely-even-there kiss. And then he’s getting up, grabbing his cereal bowl and dumping it in the sink before turning back to look down at William, still sitting on the floor. William just looks up at Gabe, something just this side of unreadable written on his features, hiding just behind his eyes.
Gabe gestures in the general direction of the spare room. “I’ve got a road map somewhere, I think. So I’m gonna go…”
William nods, then dropping his head to look down at the bowl in his hands, stirring the remnants of the cereal around aimlessly. Another day and Gabe might have asked William if he was gonna get on and eat it or settle down and marry it already, but… not today.
On this day, Gabe just walks into the other room to look for the map, and although Gabe tries not to think about why too much, yeah. He takes his time doing it.