Chapter 7
Will
“Find anything?”
“Nah,” Jon says, tossing his phone on the kitchen table. “Wanna go round to his house again?”
“No point. His dad won't answer the door.” Will sighs, his own phone a weight in his palm. “Mum, can you try again?”
She puts a mug of tea down in front of him, leans down to drop a kiss into his hair. “I told you, baby boy. He won't talk about Nathan. I'm sorry.”
Will lets his head droop until his forehead meets the table with a soft thump.
He wants to scream. Cry, maybe, like crying could ease the knot of tension in his heart.
Instead, he reaches out, following the gossamer-fine bridge between them, seeking Nathan the only way he knows how. It’s hard. The bond is so new, so fragile, it’s difficult to follow the tether to the heart at the other side.
But he’s there. Will can feel him, the muffled agony of his emotions, frustration and loneliness and despair.
He draws in a deep breath, forcing his feelings deep down and focusing on the memory of Nathan’s lips on his.
He summons every scrap of love and hope he can muster, sending them flying across the bridge like a kaleidoscope of butterflies, fluttering their way to his bondmate with comfort on their wings.
I miss you, Nathan. I miss you so much.
The echoed agony eases, just a little. Maybe it’s his imagination. Or maybe Nathan feels Will’s love surrounding him, easing his pain, wherever he is.
“Will?”
The connection slips away. “Yeah, Mum, I’m alright. Just… trying to reach him.”
She leans over him, arms wrapping around his shoulders and squeezing tight.
Two months. Two months.
It feels like a lifetime already.
The night he left was full of contrasts.
The highest high, and the lowest low. The euphoria of the bond snapping into place, the joy of knowing his silly little crush wasn’t a silly little crush at all.
The fizzing warmth of that last message, promising a forever after.
And then disbelief, followed quickly by white hot anger, thundering over the bridge like a train, so alarming the smile slipped right off Will’s face.
I want our forever after. I’ll find you, Nathan, I promise.
I’ll find you.
???
Nathan
Nathan bites into an apple and chews mechanically. The sweetness of the crisp flesh barely registers. Food lost its appeal long ago, along with everything else he once enjoyed.
He watches the other students eat their own lunches, assembled in social groups they've been refining for years.
It's autumn, and the school grounds are a riot of vibrant colours, the air scented with earth and decay.
Nathan feels like a faded, greyscale version of himself, out of place in a scene resplendent with sepia, russet and sage.
It’s been almost a year since everything changed, and he’s still an outsider.
Still hasn’t quite accepted that there’s no going back.
Every morning, he wakes up hoping that today will be the day Will finds him.
The day he finally remembers Will’s number, still elusive in the depths of his memory.
The day five minutes of borrowed time on someone else’s phone yields a connection that leads him back to Will.
The days drag their heels as they pass by, defiant and monotonous. Wake up, train, go to school, train, go for a run, read a book, sleep.
The first few months were the hardest.
That late night car journey, he’d screamed at his father, spittle flecked rage met with silence, no response. No answers to his questions–why, why, why–as they drove through the looming darkness, every minute marking another mile from home.
His emotions were too big for his body. Clenched fists, clammy skin, every muscle pulled tight. A void in his chest that kept growing and growing, clawed open by the flashes of emotion he felt through the bond.
Knowing Will was suffering too made it so much worse.
Time transformed those emotions, compressing them into a dense rock that sits heavy on his chest. It radiates blankness, numbing his heart, slowing the blood that pumps lethargically through his veins.
He still feels Will, sometimes. Determination, loneliness. Hope, too, but hope’s become a rare beast lately. More often, second hand fear. Will’s emotions are still bright, when they come, not the muted wisps trapped inside the rock.
Nathan drags himself upright and throws his apple core into a nearby bin. Contemplates begging one of his classmates to lend him their phone, wonders if there's anyone left who won't turn away from him or call him a loser.
In the end he sits back down, staring vacantly ahead, the rock so heavy he can barely breathe.
???
Will
Will raises the shot glass to his lips and tosses it back, grimacing at the rough taste of the cheap vodka.
The bar is packed with students, mostly first years like him, basking in the novelty of independence.
The student accommodation is nearby, stumbling distance according to one of the girls on his nursing course.
Not for Will, though; he chose to stay local, saving money living at home.
His parents might have moved, but he still has his room, stacked with books and finally with a TV of his own, paid for with savings from working in the cafe in the park.
If he’s honest with himself, he’s staying local in case Nathan comes home. Time’s flown by, and Nathan’s probably starting university himself, unless something went wrong with his final exams.
Maybe Nathan came home, too. Maybe one night they’ll find each other, fall into each other’s arms, pick up where they left off. The rare flashes of emotion Will feels through the bond aren’t enough to bridge the distance, haven’t been for a long time.
He still wants more. He still wants everything.
Alessia sashays back from the bar, a shot clutched in each hand. She’s nice, first year nursing like he is, as kind as she is vivacious. He takes one of the glasses mechanically, tips it down his throat. Barely feels the burn.
“That guy’s staring at you.” Alessia elbows him in the side. “He’s hot.”
Will follows her gaze automatically. He is hot, but he isn't Nathan.
“I have a bondmate.” The words are out before he can swallow them.
“Really?!” Alessia’s hot pink painted lips are a perfect surprised circle. “Where is he? Can I meet him? Why didn’t you mention him?”
“He’s…” Will sighs, scrubs a hand over his face. He doesn’t want to get into the details here, but Alessia’s bouncing up and down with excitement, and they’ve become so close already he doesn’t want to let her down. “We were separated. No contact.”
She frowns. “No contact?”
“No. I… I’m hoping I’ll find him again soon. It’s a long story.”
“Wow.” Alessia reaches for his hand, laces her vodka-sticky fingers with his, squeezes gently. “That must be shit. Hey, where are your markings?”
It’s a personal question that could easily be brushed off, but there’s a strange comfort that comes from talking about Nathan. His family, his school friends, they all know what happened, saw his heartbreak first hand. None of them need to be told the story.
But the story needs to be told. Their friendship, how it deepened and grew. How their differences drew them closer together, the years of walking the line between friends and more, the blinding moment when they jumped over the line hand in hand.
“You can’t really see them unless you look closely. We didn’t consummate the bond.”
“Oh.” Alessia bites her lip, a thousand questions written across her face. “Do you… would you tell me about him?”
And so he does. It feels good, telling their story, talking about the good parts as well as the bad. It’s a reminder that they had a beautiful past before that night.
And a reminder that maybe they’ll still have a future.
???
Nathan
The university has a gym. It’s the only thing that makes life bearable.
His degree is fine. The lectures are fine. His notes are fine, and his grades are fine.
Nathan is not fine. If he thinks about it too much, his chest starts to ache, weak under the rock that still sits upon it.
Every morning, every evening, he goes to the gym.
Weights, cardio. Never classes. Always alone.
He’s fine. He’s not fine, but when the adrenaline pumps through his veins, he’s fine, just fine, lost in the mind numbing rhythm of steps, reps and strides.
He still lives with his uncle. His father still supports him, via his uncle like always, enough money for tuition and gym membership and other essentials, like a laptop and an internet connection.
He could find Will.
He should find Will.
He can’t let himself imagine finding Will.
Every time even thinks about finding Will, the rock turns into a boulder, its weight multiplied by Nathan’s fear.
Would Will even recognise him?
Would Will even want him?
How could he, when Nathan destroyed their bond? He let the rock on his chest crush it, the bridge between them broken and lifeless because he wasn’t strong enough.
Will deserves someone strong enough.
Will deserves someone strong enough.
And Nathan is weak.
???
Will
According to Will’s research, bonds rarely break.
In the few documented cases, the couple struggled to make a life together, their differences pulling them apart just as strongly as their bond pulled them together. There’s not enough data to draw conclusions, but anecdotally it’s accepted that bonds can break when couples aren’t well suited.
And there’s the problem.
Nathan faded away, their connection shrouded in misty grey, thinner and thinner until it dissipated entirely. If Will didn’t know better, he would question if it was ever there at all.
He and Nathan were many things. Ill suited was not one of them.
Which leaves only one explanation.
“Everyone grieves differently, Will,” Alessia says, echoing what every member of his family has said to him since he reached the most painful of conclusions. “Whatever you need, I’m here for you.”
What he needs is to forget.
“You wanna drink?” Alessia asks, brown eyes sombre. “You wanna smoke? Talk? Tell me. There’s a counsellor at the health centre, maybe we should go.”