Chapter 13
Will
Will isn’t a fan of the day shift. It’s much less relaxed than the evening shift, but it’s the only way he can do the hours and still have a social life that extends beyond days off.
He’s almost finished with his rounds, chatting with the residents as he goes about his work. Most of the residents are in their rooms, resting after lunch, but a few are gathered in the lounge, chatting over tea and hot chocolate.
The steaming mugs of hot chocolate remind him of Nathan.
For the past few days, he’s thought of Nathan more often than he cares to admit. They’ve been messaging sporadically, exchanging carefully chosen photos every now and then. Nathan is enthusiastic and friendly, sending witty replies to Will’s photos that set off a flurry of light chatter.
Will feels an effervescent excitement every time a notification with Nathan’s name on it arrives. Guilt inevitably follows, either of its own volition or attached to a message from Kai.
He might have been calm in the midst of their breakup, but he certainly isn’t in the aftermath. A steady stream of apologies, olive branches, and pleas for a chat light up Will’s phone at all hours.
Shaking his head, Will heads back to the staff locker room, emerging with a bag of jellybeans. He hurries to Dimi’s room, hoping to catch him before he falls asleep. Luckily he’s awake, propped up on a mountain of soft pillows, his thin frame dwarfed by the bulky white bed.
It doesn’t take long for Dimi to take all his jellybeans, even if most of them were stolen rather than won.
At the end of his shift, he barely stops to chat with Kehinde, hurrying home for the traditional Wednesday night family dinner.
Or at least that’s his intention. Kai leans against the wall just outside of the gates, one hand worrying his thick hair. He looks tired, dark circles underscoring his eyes, his usually bright skin sallow and dull.
“Will.” Kai hurries over, thrusting his hands into his pockets as if he’s holding back. “Will. We need to talk.”
Dread rises, tempting Will to turn away. He stamps it down, focusing on Kai’s defeated demeanour and summoning empathy, the least he can do.
Kai stops, a little closer than Will would prefer, his eyes swirling with hurt and anger.
The sight is reassuring; Will’s been here before, confronted by a recently dumped ex, and he knows that anger is usually the last catalyst for contact, making a kind but firm goodbye enough to close the chapter.
“I didn’t get to say anything, Will. You… you just left.” Kai inhales, breath trembling under the force of his emotions. “Adults usually talk about their emotions, you know. Dumping me like that because of one silly little thing… it’s childish. I don’t deserve that.”
It’s tempting to react to the label, but Will’s long learnt to dodge that kind of missile. “You’re right. You deserve a lot more than what I can give you.”
Kai frowns. “No, I… Look. You owe me a real explanation. We were together for six months, Will. You can’t really think it’s still casual after that long. Spare me the bullshit.”
“I told you I don’t do commitment. You want commitment. I don’t. It’s as simple as that.” The words come out more sharply than he’d like, all fact and no emotion. “Look, I’m sorry. I really am. I should have talked to you earlier, reminded you that I don’t… I’m sorry.”
“Alright.” Kai takes a deep breath, anger crystallising into determination. “I… I can do casual. If that’s what you really want. I surprised you with the key, I shouldn’t have done that. Can we go back to the way things were?”
Will’s jaw drops. “Are you serious?”
“Yes. I can do casual, Will, if you’ll just…” Kai steps closer, grabbing for Will’s hand.
He’s too shocked to pull it back. “Kai, no. We broke up. It was for the best then, and it’s for the best now.”
“Please, Will.” Kai leans in, taking Will’s other hand, his eyes glassy.
“I’m sorry. It’s over. You deserve better.”
And I think I want Nathan.
The realisation hits him like a punch to the face, shocked by a truth his gut reminds him he knew already.
Kai’s staring at him, eyes wide like he’s surprised he’s being rejected. Will squeezes his hands once before releasing them gently. “I’m sorry. Truly. Please don’t come here again.”
He turns away and doesn’t look back. Time stretches, and Kai doesn’t run after him, doesn’t say anything, until—
“You’re an arsehole, Will Savea. Good riddance.”
Will pulls his coat tighter around him and tucks his chin into the scarf wound around his neck, trudging wearily towards his parents’ house. He can’t blame Kai for thinking he’s an arsehole, not really.
When he finally makes it home, Dad opens the door, a wide smile stretching his face as he hustles Will inside. “Takeaway tonight. No one can be bothered to cook.”
Mum and Jon are at the kitchen table, assessing the options. Mum springs up, welcoming him with a quick hug, while Jon mutters a vague hello.
“I vote Chinese.” Will pulls his chair out and sits, feeling his whole body relax.
“Pizza.” Jon floats a fork lazily through the air towards Will’s face, slowly enough he has plenty of time to bat it away.
“Chinese. That was pathetic.”
“I fancy Indian.” Mum lifts the fork from the table and sends it into the sink.
“And we’re paying, so Indian it is.” Dad reaches over and grabs Jon’s phone to order.
“I could pay?” Will ventures, even though he’s sure he won’t be allowed to.
“It’s fine, baby boy. Anyway, we’re celebrating tonight. Your dad got promoted again.”
Dad ducks his head modestly, lips stretched in a smile.
Will feels his lips curve into the very same smile. “Congrats, Dad. You’re amazing.”
“Steadiest scalpel in the country. No one else comes close.” Jon leans over and slaps his back.
Dad’s eyes connect with Will’s. “It’s nothing. Hard work and experience.”
You earned it, Dad. Hard work and experience and a rare Gift. No need to diminish it for my sake.
They share a glance full of mutual understanding before the conversation turns back to dinner.
As usual, there’s a minor argument about what to order, mostly centred around whether they’re sharing or ordering for themselves.
Jon gets up to grab some plates, and Will goes into the dining room to fetch the nice glasses to go with the nice bottle of wine he brought with him.
Half an hour later they’re eating, sharing and guarding their favourites as usual.
“So how’s Nathan?” Jon winks lasciviously. “Banging him yet?”
Mum rolls her eyes and throws a scrap of naan at him. “Jonathan, wash your mouth out.”
“Haven’t seen him since we had lunch the other day. Plus, I only just broke up with Kai, remember?”
“You’re seeing him soon, though?” Dad reaches across the table for a samosa. “I’m sure you still have a lot to say to each other.”
“Can’t we talk about Jon’s love life?”
Jon opens his mouth, but Mum gets there first. “He’s moving in with Nneka! They found a little flat.”
Delighted surprise pulls the corners of Will’s mouth upwards. “Congrats on finding someone willing to tolerate you twenty-four-seven. So soon?”
“We’ve been together for nine months. Normal people generally get more serious about each other over time, you know.”
“Whatever. I’m happy for you both. Lemme know when the housewarming is.”
“You and Nathan can go together.” Mum winks as she drains her glass.
Will lets out a loud groan, letting himself slump forward until his forehead hits a clear patch of tabletop with a thump.
Dad’s broad hand pats him reassuringly on the shoulder. “Maybe if you ask him on a date, they’ll stop teasing you.”
Will groans again, grateful for the tangle of curls shielding his face from view.
“Your hair’s in the saag aloo, by the way.”
He levers himself upright. “Lies. You ate all the saag aloo, like you always do.”
“Stop arguing, boys.” Mum sends a procession of plates off towards the sink.
Jon grabs the last samosa as it drifts past and stuffs it into his mouth. “Look, William.”
Will pours Mum another glass of wine, tipping the dregs into his glass. “Here we go.”
“I’ve never seen you as happy as you were the day you and Nathan bonded.
It was like your smile was bigger than your big, stupid face.
And then the smile disappeared and never came back.
And now.” Jon points the half-eaten samosa at him.
“Now he’s back. And maybe you can get that smile back again.
Get out of your big, stupid head and ask him out. ”
“Inspiring.” Will grins at his brother, heart aching with fear-tinged hope.
He’s not sure he could survive losing Nathan again. Opening himself up to the possibility of that pain… it makes him want to shrink into himself. Curl up into a little ball and hide the softest, most vulnerable parts of him away.
And what if the bond broke because it wasn’t meant to be in the first place?
“Your brother cares about you.” Dad pats his shoulder as he stands, stretching out his shoulders. “We all do. I’d like to see you smile like you did that first evening after you bonded. But if you think it’s too late for you and Nathan, we’ll leave it alone. Won’t we?”
Jon grumbles and rolls his eyes, contrasting with Mum’s supportive nod. “Whatever makes you happy, baby boy.”
“I don’t know if it’s too late.” Will shrugs, leaving the table and pulling the dishwasher open.
He stacks the plates methodically, hair swinging into his face as he bends over.
“I’m just scared of getting hurt like that again.
And I dunno if the bond snapping was a sign we just shouldn’t be together. ”
A chorus of disagreement sounds in response.
“Bonds break so rarely, no one really knows what it means when they do. And remember, people used to think bonds were about genetic compatibility and maximising the chances that the next generation would be strongly Gifted, not so long ago.” Mum sips her wine thoughtfully.
“Yeah. There’s still so much we don’t know,” Jon adds.
Dad opens the freezer, four spoons floating over to the table as he digs out a tub of ice cream. “I can understand not wanting to be hurt again, of course. But you of all people know what people regret most in their last days.”
“Yeah, that’s true.” Will slams the dishwasher shut and grabs a spoon. “Life is so short.”
The thought follows him home.
Sausage and Egg are happy to see him when he lifts them out of their cage, carrying them to the sofa for a little exercise before he turns in for the night.
He sips a cup of honey and ginger tea as they scurry around him, offering scritches and the occasional yoghurt drop in between replying to the messages that have accumulated on his phone.
None of them are from Nathan, the last message a quick good morning Will barely replied to.
He types quickly, hoping for a speedy response.
Sent 22:37
Just back from dinner at home
Working tonight?
Received 22:38
Yeah, waiting for my next ride, slow night
How was dinner?
Call if you want
Will smiles and hits the button, looking forward to hearing his voice.