Title:
Author: Inca
Feedback: And
we'll play the cute yet nonsensical game-
[email protected]
Rating NC17
AU Liam/William
Disclaimer:
Whedon owns, and I bet he plays with them too
Spoilers: AU
**
He could still
smell the smoke in his hair. He'd finally worked up
enough endurance
to go to `Désirer et L'âme' last night, and had
woken to what
smelled like twenty people puffing on their cigarettes
under his sheets.
It was just him. He hadn't changed out of his
clothes or washed
his hair and he reeked of it.
He needed a
smoke.
He slipped his
feet out from under the covers and stood, immediately
sitting back
again and fighting the urge to vomit that came from the
swaying. He
rubbed his throat, flicked his tongue at the nasty taste
in his mouth and
tried again, standing slowly. As he padded his way
to the bathroom
he flung his shirt off and grabbed a soft pack from
his bedside
table. He turned the shower on, the hiss soothing as he
pulled out a
cigarette and lit it with a match.
He slipped out of
his jeans, cigarette clamped between his lips,
thankful that
he'd at least taken his boots off before he'd
collapsed into
bed early that morning.
He pinched the
cigarette out, using his fingertips and feeling the
sharp burn
against his skin and stepped into the spray.
He felt groggy
from drinking so much. He couldn't remember how many
beers he'd had.
He sighed and tried to soothe his rolling stomach
with the water. A
mix of boredom, egotism and desperation had
demanded alcohol
last night, and now it was all churning in his
belly. He felt
like he was going to throw up where he stood.
He'd gotten nothing.
But it seemed like he was closer to whatever he
was looking for.
Somehow.
Maybe he was just
hungover.
The club had been
underground, naturally, and had been filled with
mainly people
dressed like himself, which was a relief. A few of the
girls were
white-faced and wearing red silk but not many. The
lighting had been
horribly dim, and the drinks tended to lean
towards red wine.
He'd had beer.
He scratched the
side of his face.
His friends from
the last party hadn't been there. The barman said
Wednesday was a
slow night, so he decided to try on Saturday. One
more go.
He wondered
vacantly if Harlen was one of these types. He wondered
if he'd gone to
the club.
He closed his
eyes. Harlen would probably be long gone by now. His
brain was trying
to work through the hangover to convince him that
he couldn't find
Harlen. But he was weakly arguing back, voice
strained even in
his head. For some futile reason he believed
someone could
point him to the trail.
He turned off the
shower, thought better of relighting his cigarette
and made his way
to the kitchen looking for something greasy. A
splintering
headache had started pulling his mind apart into painful
jagged little
shards.
He had nothing in
his fridge besides some suspicious milk. He rubbed
his temple
wearily, found some aspirin and decided to get some
McDonalds on the
way to work.
His body let out
a groan at the prospect of work.
He rubbed his eye
and slowly made his way back to his bedroom in
search of
clothing.
**~~**
He could see big
yellow ants outside. They didn't seem to be
bothering anyone
except himself so he decided to be quiet about them.
And they were
yellow, so they were interesting to watch. They were
kind of –
"Angel?"
"Yes?"
He turned back to the group to see all the faces in the
circle watching
him.
The clamour of
the other groups in the hall suddenly leaked into his
head. Speaking
and crying, sporadic shouts and the buzz hum of
murmuring. He
looked back but the ants had moved on. Probably for
honey.
"No that's
bees." He corrected himself.
"Yes."
Said Dr Banning. "Now as I was saying, we're splitting into
smaller
connection-groups to talk about your own personal trust
bridges. You
picked three so you get to choose who's going to be
your help partner
or partners."
Gibberish. It was
all gibberish. He frowned and tried to concentrate.
"Try… to
pick someone different this time?" the small man said
carefully.
Pick someone? He
looked around the circle. "Doyle."
Dr Banning let
out a little sigh. "Alright, you two can go to the
corner and start
discussing what we brought up in the group."
"Okay."
He answered. What were they talking about?
Doyle stood up
with a smile and walked with him to the corner of the
room as more
people were split up. He lounged against the wall and
Doyle leaned next
to the barred window, peering out at the grounds.
They stayed for a
moment in silence before Angel started tapping
against the wall
to the music. Doyle picked up the beat and tapped
against the
window bars, making a higher tinnier noise.
Dr Benning came
over. "You two are discussing trust issues right?"
"Of course
we are." Doyle answered. He turned to Angel. "So, do you
have any trust
issues?"
Angel thought for
a moment. "None that I can think of."
"Oh well
there you go."
Dr Benning sighed
and glared a little at Doyle before flouncing off
to listen in on
another group.
"How's your
woodwork going?" He asked Doyle, remembering he was
making … something.
Wasn't quite sure what.
"Oh yeah,
its great. I should probably work more while I'm in the
woodwork room and
smoke less, yeah?" he laughed, looking back out
the window again.
"Almost
done?"
"Still gotta
do some wood burning… I'm not sure though. What do you
want for your
birthday?"
"Birthday?"
Angel asked foggily.
"Yeah."
He smiled, but not patronisingly. "Next month? If you want
me to make you
something, I should probably start now."
"Ummm…"
He couldn't think. Too hard.
"An easel?
Could make you your own."
Angel lit up.
"Okay!"
"Okay."
He imagined it
would be even more fun painting on his own easel.
More swirls.
"My own. Can
you put my name on it?"
"Sure. I'll
start today."
Angel purred. He
could paint the ants. No, he wouldn't paint those
first. He could
paint the easel. Hmmm.
"Angel?"
"Yes?"
Doyle looked at
him for a moment and then smiled tightly. He dragged
out some
cigarettes and offered one to Angel. He shook his head.
"Um, was
talking to Harris."
"Yeah?"
he said.
"Last
session."
"Oh
okay." Angel smiled. Doyle laughed a little.
"That wasn't
the whole story. It …" He puffed on the cigarette and
looked out the
window for a moment. "I'm up for parole again."
Angel looked to
the ground. The stars stopped singing to listen
closely. He
frowned a little and then looked back up. "Parole?"
"Yeah… and
there's a good chance, well Harris says there's a good
chance."
Angel blinked,
his face blank. "That you'll get out?"
"Yeah."
A horrible yowl
sounded through his head, and he shook it to calm
them down. He
looked at the ground again. He was happy for him, but …
"sad
too."
"I'll come
back, like. Every week, and visit you." He said, looking
a bit sad
himself. He scuffed the ground with his toe. "You'd still
see me a lot.
But… I wouldn't be here all the time."
"Oh."
Doyle was going?
He was leaving. But … no. Angel was more upset than
happy now.
"Yeah well
next month, I'm up."
"Before or
after my birthday?" Angel asked, even though he couldn't
remember when his
birthday was or what day it was today. But the
stars were
bawling and it was starting to make his eyes water.
Doyle smiled, and
his lip trembled a bit before steadying. "After.
Don't worry about
that."
"I'm glad
you're … that you can." He said. He imagined Doyle walking
around outside.
He wondered what kind of clothes he wore.
"Yeah."
He nodded. "Yeah me too."
"How long
have you been in here?"
Doyle looked up
at the ceiling and squinted. "Eight years, and …" He
looked back down
to Angel and smiled. "Eight years, one month and
almost two
weeks."
"That's a
long time."
"Yep. And
I've known you for almost six years now."
"Six years.
That's a long time." He said softly.
Doyle laughed and
slapped his shoulder. "Im gonna start a business.
And when you get
out, you can come help me."
"Yeah?"
He brightened again. It made him feel better to know he'd
see him again.
"Yep."
"What are
you going to do?"
"I don't
know. But I'll be my own man. No one to tell me what to do.
After eight years
of asking permission to piss, I'm not having a
boss."
"Okay."
That sounded good. "And what would I do?"
"Anything
you wanted."
"I'd be… I
wanna be a painter." He said, thinking about people
cooing over his
work. And then taking it home to put up on their
walls.
"Okay, then
there you go." Doyle smiled and offered him the
cigarette.
He took a drag
and handed it back. Angel was pleased. He could paint
and Doyle could …
do what his job was, and Will could live with
them.
Yes.
And they'd have a
big house and a pool. Angel hummed, happy the
stars were
excited. He liked being in water. Just not the ocean.
Doyle could get a
girlfriend, and then they could all go in the pool
and Will would be
on his shoulders and they could play that game
where you tried
to push the other person off the other shoulders.
"Nice."
He said. Will would have to be on his shoulders, because
Will was a little
bit smaller than him. He nodded. Now, depending on
whether Doyle had
a girlfriend or a boyfriend –
"Angel?"
Angel turned around and Steve was standing behind him.
All the good
feelings immediately vanished. He didn't say anything.
The stars
immediately starting singing out of harmony. They really
didn't like him.
"Wanna come
out back and help me move things." He asked, his eyes
fixed on Angel's.
"Umm …"
He said, stalling for time, not wanting to go at all.
Doyle looked at
him and then at Steve. "I'll go." He said. "Angel's
been feeling a
bit off anyway."
"Oh."
Steve said, looking between them. "Alright then. Just a few
boxes." He
turned and started walking away.
"Sure."
Doyle said a little sarcastically at the retreating back.
Doyle smiled at
him.
"Thankyou."
He said.
"'Salright.
Why didn't you want to go?"
The stars were
lapping up the squiggles from Doyle going for
him. "The
stars didn't like him." There was an echo of black behind
the gratefulness.
"Oh, that's
fine. See you at lunch yeah?"
"Yes."
Dr Benning came
and collected him, bringing him back to the group.
He looked out the
window hoping to see the ants come back.
Maybe with honey.
**~~**
Will sat in his
office, his head slumped on the desk. He didn't
move. He could
hear the clock ticking slowly.
He had a glass of
water near his head but didn't think he could
drink it.
He'd made a phone
call to Kate Sutherland's office but she wasn't
in. The secretary
was going to ring him back.
His gluggy mind
`wheeee'd' in sarcastic joy.
He groaned.
He'd almost
crashed his car twice on the way over. He really
shouldn't have
come.
The phone rang in
his ear, shrilly and demented and evil. He almost
cried and snapped
the phone off the cradle before it could be any
more hateful. He
heard it up to his ear carefully, as if it might
start ringing
again at any moment.
"Hello?"
"Dr Telleck?"
A tinny woman's voice floated through the connection.
"Speaking."
"Ms
Sutherland will meet you, if you're still interested in making
an appointment.
Today in half an hour is the only time she is free.
Sorry about the
short notice."
He hauled himself
up. "No, fine. Come to her office?"
"Yes. Do you
need directions?"
"Nope, be
right over."
"See you
then Doctor."
He hung up the
phone and built up enough courage to leave the room.
He walked quickly
down the corridor, stopping at the vending machine
long enough to
buy some breath mints before making his way
determinedly to
the front exit.
"Will?"
He stopped as his
lover's deep voice drifted quietly through the
hallway.
"Angel, what is it?" He asked, turning around to see a
timid Liam poking
his head out the hall doors. "Aren't you meant to
be in group
now?"
"Yes, but I
asked. It's alright."
He came out of
the doorway and walked up to him. He looked a little
anxious but
didn't say anything.
"Pet,"
he said softly, "what's the matter? I'm in a hurry."
"Can we
talk?" he asked, his gaze resting on Will's mouth.
"As long as
it's a quick talk. I have to go see Kate."
"Kate?"
he frowned, the almost upset look on his face drifting off.
"Your
lawyer."
"Oh
yes." He stared at Will with a content vacant _expression. A
small smiled
lifted the edges of his mouth. He looked at his hair.
No, please, don't
get distracted by my hair –
"White lion
all –"
"What's
wrong, Pet?" He said, cutting in on him and feeling bad
about it, but he
couldn't deal with this right now. His head was
throbbing and he
felt like he was gonna have to throw up before he
drove to see
Kate, unwilling to face the thought of his car and
driving in his
current condition. And turning corners.
His stomach
flipped unpleasantly.
Liam looked
confused and then a cloud of uncomfortableness settled
over his face.
"Daddy, I was …" he paused and licked his lips,
trying to find
the words.
"What is it
Pet?" He said gently. "Come on, just say it."
"I .. and …
are you very busy?"
"I'm in a
rush yes." He said nodding his head and then regretting it
when Liam and the
hallway swayed sickly to the side.
He needed some
more aspirin. Or a toilet.
"So was the…
" he trailed off and then stood staring at him again,
maybe waiting for
an answer to whatever he'd just said in his head.
"Didn't hear
you Pet." Will breathed, trying, trying very hard not
to get irritated.
"I … I don't
remember." He said, wincing a bit at the end of the
statement,
thinking that would upset him. He'd picked up on Will's
mood. "Im
sorry."
"I have a
hangover Pet. It's a bitch. I have to go." He said,
squeezing his arm
to reassure him.
"Oh."
He said looking down. "But what if …"
He trailed off
again and smiled into Will's hair. He made a little
purry rumble.
Will breathed
deeply trying to be calm, hating himself at the same
time.
Do not get angry
with him just because you're sick.
His head was
swimming. He was going to be sick in the next few
minutes. He had
to get outside, get some fresh air. Bile was
bubbling up his
oesophagus, burning like liquid fire.
"I love you
Pet. I love you very much." He whispered and Angel
looked a little
happier. "What's wrong?"
"The stars
are all worried Daddy. I'm nervous. My stomach's in
knots."
Will nodded
minutely, not enough to upset his body. "What about?"
"Steve."
"Steve.
Steve?" He didn't know a Steve. Must be one of Wiltho's.
Liam looked at
him. "A man named Steve." He said like Will didn't
understand.
"Okay.
Right. So what's wrong with Steve then?"
"He's strange
and the stars whisper about him."
Okay. He breathed
slow and deep trying to keep his stomach from
emptying its
contents. "Well you stay away from him then."
"But Daddy
the stars are all black and maybe even frightened." He
said, trying to
convince Will of something.
"Okay. Don't
go near him."
"But –"
He broke him off with a quick peck on his lips.
"And I have
to go Pet, immediately." He could feel sweat on his
temples and his
mouth building up saliva. "You go back into group
and don't worry
about Steve alright?"
Liam's slight
frown didn't waver. "Dadd –" He cut himself off and
smiled unhappily,
before he turned and walked slowly back to the
hall. He looked
at him over his shoulder as he reached the door,
blew a small kiss
and went inside.
Will didn't make
it outside, but did get to the patients bathroom
before his
stomach turned itself inside out.
**
"So, Dr
Telleck, what did you want to see me about?" Kate asked,
eyeing his hair.
"I'm here to
ask what the possible courses of action are for
reopening Liam's
trial." She curled her lip almost subtly at the
undertone of sick
on his breath, mostly hidden under the mint.
"There are
no courses of action. If there were, I, being Liam's
trusted attorney,
would have already pursued them." She looked at
him hard, as if
by asking he had doubted her ability.
"Nothing. At
all?"
"Dr Telleck.
I tried. I tried for the past six years. I tried every
avenue, every
chance no matter how trivial. Liam will have to wait
for parole."
She said, a combination of boredom and pleading
sneaking into her
tone. She almost rolled her blue eyes, but
restrained
herself. She moved over to her desk. "Now if that was al–"
"He won't
get it." Will stated flatly.
"Excuse
me?" she asked, flipping her head towards him, a curtain of
shiny blonde
falling away from her face.
"He won't
get it. He'll never be seen as rehabilitated in the eyes
of the
board."
"Isn't that
what you're there for?" She asked snippily.
"Some people
don't benefit from therapy." Especially when they
didn't commit the
crime they have been treated for.
"For six
years Liam has not once asked me to defend his innocence."
She said, growing
frustrated.
"Liam is
insane." He walked towards her. "Sometimes he doesn't even
know where he is.
He doesn't belong there though."
She stared at him
for a moment, holding his gaze, before she lowered
her eyes.
"To reopen a case I need new evidence."
"How do I
get that?" Will asked in a sigh, still weary from last
night, weary from
no one helping him, weary from the whole god
damned bloody
situation.
"I don't
know. That's not my job. My job is to present a case."
"What about
Liam's testimony?" He asked, his stomach nervous at what
he was proposing.
Liam wouldn't like it.
"No. The
testimony of a convicted, criminally insane prisoner
doesn't hold much
weight in a court."
He sighed again.
He suddenly felt very tired. Wanted to crawl up
under warm bed
covers and sleep. "And everything was already
presented, so it
can't be brought before a jury again." He recapped.
"No."
He rubbed his
eye. "Alright. I'll … I don't know. Thankyou Ms
Sutherland."
She seemed to
take pity on him, her artic gaze softening. "You
really care about
him don't you?"
Will's insides
froze but his face betrayed nothing. "I care because
he doesn't
deserve to be there."
She nodded and
the telephone rang, jolting Will's headache awake.
"I have to
get that."
"I'll show
myself out."
**
He was planning
to go back to the ward, but his stomach was still
rolling. He
heaved a sigh and drive to his apartment. Guilt pounded
against his chest
from the inside out. He and Liam had a session
today. He'd never
missed one of their sessions.
His stomach
bubbled and he burped, bile raising in his throat.
He just couldn't.
He got to his
apartment and called Harris, nonchalantly telling him
to inform all his
patients he would be out the rest of the day.
**~~**
"No kitty.
Not today." Will said sitting on the couch.
Angel stayed on
his cat bed. He meowed forlornly. He put his hand on
the ground like
he was about to get of the velvet.
"Busy, Angel
cat. Not today."
He brought his
hand back off the ground and watched him, while he
played with the
dangling name on his collar. He pouted sadly. Will
was reading a
book. He didn't have time to pet him today.
He flopped down
onto the bed. The fire wasn't burning and he was
cold.
Squiggles danced
across his back and he tried to rub them off. It
felt like someone
was staring at him. He looked out the dark
windows. It was
very dark.
Someone was out
there and he didn't like it.
He wanted to call
out Will's name. "Meow." He couldn't make his
name. He got up
from the bed to walk to Will to show him he was
scared.
"No Pet. Bad
kitty. Stay there." He folded back down slowly. "No
time today."
Will kissed the air at him which made him feel a bit
better. He looked
out the dark windows again, but all he could see
was his
reflection.
His eyes blinked
open and he frowned. It was still dark. He normally
slept through
till morning, unless he was having a nightmare. But
that wasn't a
nightmare. He hadn't had a nightmare in a long time.
It was just a sad
dream.
He told himself
not to overreact. Will was just busy one day, that's
all, he –
His eyes flicked
over the door and his breath caught in his throat
in a bubble.
Steve's face
lingered in the glass square for a moment longer, dark
against the light
of the hall, and then disappeared.
His breathing
returned slowly to normal. His heart was still
thumping and the
stars were falling in shock around him. He knew his
face matched the
stars.
He started
shivering a little. He watched the glass square a moment
longer.
No Steve.
He whined and
slipped out of the bed. His hands twisted in each
other for a moment
as he stood next to his mattress and then he
cautiously went
to the door and tried to see out the window.
Nothing
No Steve.
The stars weren't
relieved. They wondered, frightened of how long he
had been there. He
couldn't see very far. His stomach flipped. What
if Steve was
right next to the door? Just out of his eyesight. But
he could feel
him? He backed away from the door, keeping his eyes on
the window and
grabbed his pillow.
He slipped under
the protection of the bed and tried to sooth the
trembling colours
from the stars.
**
Refreshed from
his day spent kneeling on the cold bathroom floor in
front of the
toilet, Will meandered off through the halls towards
the staff room,
looking for coffee. The staff room was empty so he
took his time,
filling the cup with extra sugar, wanting it sweet
today.
He started to
make his way to his office, while making little points
in his mind of
what he had to do today. He felt bad about missing he
and Liam's session.
He'd probably forgotten by now, but he'd brought
along chocolate
and a few boxes Mc Donald's cookies.
Liam had a
penchant for them.
He allowed
himself a small grin. He hoped –
"Dr
Telleck?"
Will turned to
see Allen, Liam's friend, standing behind him looking
nervous.
"Yes?"
"Can we talk
for a moment?"
Will blinked, a
little confused. He wasn't Allen's therapist. "Um …
sure. What
about?"
"In private,
yeah?"
Will felt unease
settle in his stomach like curdled milk. He
swallowed.
"Sure."
He told himself
not to be worried. There was no need to be worried.
He led them to
his office, and opened the door letting Allen in. He
closed it behind
them softly. He threw his briefcase on his untidy
desk, crunching
the papers, and then sat down in one of the couches,
Allen sitting
across from him, sallow face stern and eyes blinking
rapidly. He
brushed his dark hair back and rested his elbows on his
knees, leaning
forward.
Liam wouldn't
tell, Liam wouldn't tell, Liam wouldn't tell. Of
course Liam
wouldn't tell. What are you thinking?
"So … what
did you want to talk to me about?" He asked, trying to be
cheerful.
"This."
He pulled out a Polaroid and tossed it onto the coffee table
between them. His
heart stopped beating before he even saw the
photograph.
He and Liam
kissing happily in the parks near
Liam's eyes
looking into the camera as he tried to line up the shot.
He made no move
to touch it. He didn't think he could if he wanted
to, he couldn't
move. His muscles were frozen except his eyes, which
were getting
steadily wider.
He swallowed.
"Want to
tell me about that? Cause I thought Ags was just going for
a workshop. Not
to, you know, fuck in a hotel room like he's been
telling me."
He swallowed
again and opened his mouth, but he couldn't. He had no
tongue, no voice.
There was a void behind his eyes.
"Well
…" Allen said angrily. "Speak!"
He found his
voice, but he couldn't look away from the
photograph.
"It's not what you think." He stated, knowing how stupid
that sounded, the
cliché spilling from his lips before his mind
could catch up.
Allen raised his
eyebrows. "I think, you're using him `cause he
doesn't know any
better."
He found the
courage in his innocence to look at the man. "I'm not."
He tried to fit
all the emotions he was feeling into the two words.
He stared back
and rubbed his eyebrow closing his eyes
wearily.
"Liam's beautiful. I can understand why men want to be with
him."
"He is … but
that's … that's not why I'm with him."
"Do you love
him?"
"I do. Very
much." He gazed down at the picture again. Everyone was
finding out. It
was only a matter of time. "Please don't take him
away from
me." He whispered, not even realising the thought had left
his mind through
his mouth.
Doyle stared at
him. He crossed his arms and leant back in his seat.
"Tell me a
reason. One reason you love him. If I don't fecking like
it, im going
straight to Wiltho's." He waited.
Will swallowed
and let a short smile slip onto his face as he looked
down at the
picture. They were so happy then. No worrying about
court cases and
three months in the hospital ward and Wesley's
presence pulling
on the edge of his mind.
"Because …
because he `asn't got a bad bone in his body, no
meanness… Because
he wants so little out of life even though it owes
him so
much." He knew he'd only asked for one, but they didn't seem
like enough.
Nothing seemed like enough.
"He has a
good heart and it comes through in his drawings – he's so
talented. He's
what people should be. Without spite or agendas, not
trying to get
anywhere or be the best over anybody, just … free, and
guileless. And I
love him."
It was a
desperate attempt to show what he felt. Desperate and
pathetic and his
bones were itching with it. He couldn't even
explain why he
loved him. Not with Liam. Because Liam lived so
simply,
everything else just became more complicated for Will. He
wished he could
live like Liam did. Liam was at peace. He didn't
want for much of
anything. He was Will's idea of perfection.
He sat and looked
sadly at the picture and waited for Allen to say
something.
"Yeah."
Allen said cheerfully. "That'll do me."
Will looked up
and Allen was smiling at him. The world seemed to be
spinning
backwards. He blinked. "…wha?"
"I
understand."
"…You
do?"
He does?
Wait, what?
"Yeah.
That's why I love him … in a totally non-sexual manly way of
course."
"So … you
don't mind? You're not …?"
"I just
wanted to make sure you weren't fucking him just because
he's got a pretty
face." He thought for a second. "Or because you
got off on
crazies."
"No. …"
he stumbled, trying to clarify.
"Alright
then." He stood up and turned for the door. He picked up
the Polaroid and
waved it around. "I'll give that back to Ags."
"Wait. You
don't think its wrong…?"
"Well … it's
definitely questionable – you being his therapist and
all." He
said sternly. "But Angel loves you, he doesn't just fall in
love with people
everyday. I've never heard him say he loves anyone
except his
family. Now, from what I can tell, you're either carrying
on like this
because you are really in love with him and you just
want it secret
because of the backlash, or you're in love with him
cause you're as
insane as he is. And either of those are fine with
me."
He turned for the
door and Will followed him in a stupor. "But …?"
He turned around,
smiling a little, like this whole situation amused
him, or he found
it cute. "Look I know Liam's insane. But he's got a
good heart. Just
because he's insane doesn't mean he can never be
loved again.
Right?"
"Yes I agree
… but … you don't…"
Allen suddenly
stared at him maliciously and spoke over his
stumbling words.
"But if you ever hurt him, or I find out you are a
sicko? You're as
good as dead. Pure and simple, I will fecking kill
you." He
said flatly. "And I'm a prisoner, I've learnt six ways to
kill a man with
my bare hands. Or I'll just hire one of my buddies
to shoot you in
the head."
Will stared at
him and blinked.
"I'm serious.
But if you're motivations are pure, you've got nothing
to worry about,
`ave ya?"
Allen thumped him
on the shoulder with a grin and slipped out the
door.
Will stood there
staring at the wood for what felt like three hours,
his mouth hanging
open and his face slack the entire time.
He activated,
coming to life as though he'd been sleeping on his
feet and shook
his head. He let out a little crazy laugh and
abruptly stopped.
He couldn't
figure out what he was feeling. It was all mixed up –
relief and fear
and shock. All of them. Gratitude. Hope.
Another laugh
bubbled from his lips and suddenly his thighs were
jelly and he
couldn't stand up any more. He fell into the couch and
just lay half on
it, his face frozen in shock.
"What just
happened?" He asked the coffee table after running the
minutes over and
over in his head until he had worn them out and
still not having
an explanation.
It refused to
answer.
**~~**
Angel sat in the
art room and stared out the window for inspiration.
He pursed his
lips. Nothing. Even the swirls were dim today. The
stars were
singing but their hearts weren't in it. They were just
singing for
something to do.
He was bored. And
because he was bored his mind kept slipping to
last night. He
had hoped that was just a dream, but he'd woken up on
the floor under
his bed. He shuddered at the thought of Steve
watching him
while he slept.
The door opened
and he turned to see Doyle walk in, cheerfully.
"Ags,
hey."
"Hi."
He said, cheered up a little.
Doyle came and
stood behind his shoulder peering down at his
squiggles on the
paper.
"What do you
call it?"
"Inspiration
absent."
"Bored,
huh?"
"So very
bored." He agreed, tapping his pencil against the paper. He
saw a bit of tiny
fluff on the sketchbook and picked it off
Doyle wanted to
say something. He could tell. He looked at him with
a smile.
"What is it?"
"I talked to
Dr Te … Will."
Angel's interest
was grabbed. "Did he say anything nice about me?"
"Many nice
things. I'm not upset you and him are seeing each other
anymore."
"You were
upset?" Angel frowned. Worry edged onto his face. "You
didn't tell him I
said anything did you?"
"I told him
if he hurt you, I'd kill him."
Angel laughed.
"Will wouldn't hurt me. Silly thing."
"Alright. Well
then I don't have to kill him do I?"
"Kill?"
he asked, his mind started to edge elsewhere. He shook it
off. "As
long as you didn't say you knew me and Will love each
other."
"Yeah … I
never said that sentence."
"Good."
He looked at his eyes. Pretty blue. A spark lit up his brain
and jump-started
the stars. "Im going to draw you."
"How bout
you draw you?"
That was an
interesting thought. He'd never done that before. He'd
need a lot of
gold paint. He was very gold at the moment. Gold kitty.