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quackmyback · 1 month ago

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the alchemy || Will Lenney

“where’s the trophy? he just comes running over to me”

part one of THE ALCHEMY. part two here

pairing: will lenney x fem!reader

warnings & tags: friends to lovers. idiots with tension. idiots in denial. slowish burn. lots of nerdy football talk + a side of Willne.

summary: The two times you were recruited to play in a Sidemen charity match, and the one time you score.

a/n: hello!!! this is based on the 2022 sidemen charity match, but for convenience purposes, it's set in 2023. for the plot, of course.

also, i’m tired of looking at this so this is being posted without review! i promise part two will have more will, i’m just setting us up for success in part one. you’ll absolutely love it.

please enjoy <3

wc: idek at this point

The buzz that interrupted your sleep wasn’t what concerned you, it’s the fact that after you had hung up the first and second time, there was a third call. Begrudgingly, you toss your sheets aside and sit up, eyeing the phone on the bedside table. To no surprise, it was Simon.

You were no stranger when it came to working with the Sidemen. Starting off as a crew member who was good with a camera, slowly you were incorporated into videos, and eventually had the confidence to create your own platform. After leaving the Sidemen to focus on building your solo career, most of your audience didn't know where you gained your footing, becoming a bigger public figure outside of their work.

Getting a phone call from Simon wasn't uncommon, needless to say. You were always ready to film, to bring in new ideas for them, to be on set. After all, you had been friends with the lads for years.

"Hello?" you croak, trying to smooth down the hair that was knotted in the back of your head.

"Y/n! How are you, mate?" Simon's voice was overly chipper and sweet, too sweet. You eye your phone for a moment before pressing it back up to your ear. It was too early in the morning for either of you to be awake.

"Christ, Simon, I know you aren't just calling me at seven in the morning to ask how I am," you replied. Simon sighs briefly before letting out an airy chuckle.

"Alright, I need to ask you for a favor." That's what you were expecting. His voice hesitant and low, it made you wonder what this could really be about.

"Okay, go on then," you yawn. You weren't sure why Simon was being so ominous; you had done the lad loads of favors in the past. Bringing in extra camera crew, reaching out to other influencers, helping plan out events-

"Would you sub in for Andres for the charity match next week? I know it's last minute, but he had other conflicts, and you're one of my best mates. You-" Simon rambles before you swiftly interject.

"Simon, what are you waffling on about? You can't be serious," you say seriously. The grogginess from waking up immediately disappears, and you begin to regret picking up the phone.

"I know it's mad, but we've tossed around a ball quite a bit before-"

"I haven't seriously played footy since I was in high school! I can't imagine the shit I'd get if I were to even step foot into that stadium."

"I know-"

"And I'm the only girl! That's like a misogynist's nightmare, a woman who can think and compete!" Getting on your feet, you pace around your room like a madman. Your free hand finds its way into your hair, coarsing through it multiple times, stressfully.

"Would you let me finish? Then you can decide if it's bollocks or not," Simon asked finally. You heave out a breath of air and then hum in response. The least you could do is give him time to try to convince you.

"Look, it's the first time a lot of them have played football, and some of them play like it's the first time. It's really about having a good time, " he explains, which admittedly puts some of your worries at ease- and gets a small laugh out of you.

"Also.." he says hesitantly, hitching his breath as he trails off. You roll your eyes and groan. Of course, there's more to it; there always is. You sit back onto the edge of the bed, foot impatiently tapping on the wood floor.

"I may have called Will, and he may have told me to ask you; he promised me that with enough begging.. you'd say yes," he says, almost like a question. There's a small hint of teasing when he says it, and you can practically see the prat smiling through the screen.

Your end of the call goes silent. A flush starting at the tips of your ears and growing at the bulbs of your cheeks.

In 2018, the day before the charity match, you met Will in person for the first time. You knew of him through brief passing and mentions of him from Cal and the other Sidemen. Yet you never spoke to him until you were messing around with your camera during practice, getting ready to film the match the next day.

"This is who I was telling you about, Will," Cal smiles, grabbing your attention from the camera. You peer over your shoulder to see a younger lad with dark hair standing beside him. You politely set the camera down on the bench and extend your hand out to him.

"Hi, I'm y/n, I've heard good things about you!" you smile, and he leans down, weakly taking your hand and shaking it.

"Hello," he responds, his once loud chatter with Cal made you assume he'd be much more talkative. But now he is quiet and fidgety, and it makes you wonder if you've already made a bad first impression.

"Y/n is our best camerawomen. I ought to get you familiar with her; maybe you can get some good screen time." Cal smirked. Will shoves him lightly with a chuckle.

"I'm not all bad, I reckon," he insists, and you put your hands up defensively.

"Hey, we'll just have to see on the field, won't we?" you express, grabbing the large equipment and getting ready to move it inside. You stand up, getting a better look at his face. He's tall, his hair short and freshly cut, his jawline is carved out sharply, making it hard to go unnoticed.

"Cheeky," Will commented, crossing his arms over each other. And unknowingly, a grin had worked its way onto your face, your tongue pressing against the inside of your cheek. You shrug,

"I gotta get going, it was nice meeting you Will,"

Since then, you and Will have kept in contact frequently. He interacted with you on social media, had you come to feature in his videos, and texted you almost every day. Seeing one another once every few months had become every weekend when you moved closer to London. And you can bet that this didn't go unnoticed by anyone. Sharing clothes, traveling together, posting each other, seeing each other more than your own family— you can only assume why everyone has their presumptions.

Yet, you were great at denying, avoiding, and more importantly ignoring these blistering questions on if they or won’t they.

"So.. you called Will first, before calling me?" you ask slowly, processing it yourself. The pads of your fingers rub against your temple, then smoothing your palm across your cheek hoping it would brush away the pink that dusted your face.

"Yeah," Simon says quickly. "Is it more convincing now? "

"Fuck off,"

"I know it is," he insists. You mutter profanities under your breath before letting it go silent.

Because it is much more convincing knowing that Will had that kind of faith and trust in you. It's more convincing knowing the person closest to you would be right by your side. You weigh out the options in your head. If you do play, you'll get to say you played in front of 30,000 people, raised money for charity, and more importantly, were able to help out some of your closest friends.

"Simon, I don't know.." You mutter hesitantly, biting the nail on your thumb. Sure, you had played footy competitively in high school and tossed a ball around here and there with the lads, but other than that, you hadn't really played in a few years now.

"C'mon, you don't have to be any good, it's for charity y/n! You have to! There will be loads of fans happy that you're playing!" Simon coaxed. You shake your head instantly, knowing that half the boys lived and breathed football.

“You can’t say I don’t have to be any good when you’re probably one of the best players out there.” Countering his argument, you can tell you're at the breaking point. He's cracked you down efficiently, being nice, complimenting you, bringing Will into it- It's working so well you almost hate him for it.

“I’ve exhausted my options, y/n, please, this one time, and I’ll never ask again.” Simon protests. You huff, exasperated, and without letting another beat pass,

"Alright,"

"Alright?" he repeats, the surprise evident in his tone. You gnaw at your bottom lip, adn squeezed your eyes shut before speaking again.

"Yeah, okay, put me in." You decide finally. You can hear movement on the other end and a few other voices shout in delight. Of course, he couldn't be alone when he made the phone call.

"Oh my god, this will be legendary, thank you, thank you, thank you," Simon begins excitedly, which brings a smile to your face. Simon, even though he always was teetering on the edge of your limit, was charming and kind and that's what makes it hard to deny him.

"You're playing center, by the way. See you in a week mate!" and the phone call clicks. There, you're left to stare at your phone screen, watching as you get added to a group chat and texts start to roll in.

One week, seven days, to magically get good at football again. Right, well, it’s much too late to turn back now.

"Cheers," muttering to yourself. You fall back onto the bed, checking your messages to see a new one from Will.

"wanna show this novice the ropes?"

Word obviously spreads fast, is the first thing you think. And then you snort, with a quick eye roll, the pads of your fingers drumming against the screen.

"fuck off" you begin to type but instead you text back,

“pitch at 6 sharp"

And almost immediately Will texts back,

“wouldn’t miss it :)”

⚽️...

You arrive to the pitch first, bringing an old ball covered in dirt from when you had last dribbled with Chris. Will arrives shortly after, a wide smile and an excited pep to his jog.

“Six sharp!” he says, checking his watch to show you it's exactly 6pm. Will is very timely; he’s considerate of people's time and even makes an extra effort to arrive early. He never wants to be the wanker who shows up late and wastes others time and efforts.

"That ball is just filthy, innit?" he comments, his true Geordie accent making a clear appearance. You roll your eyes quickly.

“I don't see yours anywhere,” you respond, finishing up tying the laces of your shoes. You rock on your feet a few times, creasing the shoe and getting it to warp around your feet snugly.

"Fair enough." Immediately, Will picks the ball up and twirls it between his fingers. "What should we do first?"

You both practice dribbling, passing, and shooting. Eventually, moving on to striking and stealing, which gets aggressive, causing you to have bruises all along your legs. Will thinks that after a while, it's a good idea to mess around so you both don't end up hating each other. The time passes by swiftly, the sun setting behind you both before you realize it.

The sky is highlighted with hues of orange, yellow, and a deep red in the horizon. You turn to look at Will; his shoulder grazes your side, and as if on cue, he looks at you, too.

He silently smiles, and for a second it’s all it is, but then his hand comes up and brushes the cool of your cheekbone. He brushes the stray hair that fell, tucking it behind your ear. Smoothing down any hairs that stuck out on the back of your head with his palm.

Will always find an excuse to touch you, to be physically closer. He’s an affectionate person, you’ve always riddled it as. Oh, there’s a stray hair on your face, oh a piece of fuzz on your sweater, don’t worry if you’re nervous— his hand crawls its way onto the small of your back. And every time he did something like this, your feelings soared and free-fall in the air. You don’t know how much longer you can swallow down the shyness you feel when it happens.

Instead, you give him a small shove.

“Stop it,”

“I was just helpin’ ya,” his voice squeaks.

“Just like how you helped get Simon to convince me to play in the match next week?” You shove the ball into his chest, backing up, motioning him to play. He lets out an airy chuckle, rolling the ball onto the field and dribbling it between his feet.

“Heard about that didn’t you?”

He kicks it toward you.

“Mhmm. “

And you kick it, hard, right back.

“I didn’t help him; all I did was suggest that he ask you because you’re reliable.” Will tried to dribble around you, but it rolled just far away enough for you to steal it.

Will runs towards the goal post, attempting to block you or maybe even tackle you, you aren’t sure. From the times you’ve watched Will play, his limbs tend to fly around and it’s like he’s just experienced walking for the first time.

“And not because you know I wouldn’t say no to the prat?”

“Look, to make it up to you I’ll score you a goal at the game,” Will offers, making you raise your eyebrows. He says semiseriously, but you have a feeling it’s more joking than anything. He was always good with banter anyway.

“Yeah right,” You walk back, running up to the ball and kicking it with the side of your foot— flying into the right corner of the net.

Wills eyes widen as he watches you jog over to grab the ball again.

“And you’re the one who needs practice?” he pipes, forgetting about the conversation. You smile shyly and shake your head, grabbing the ball and handing it to Will.

"You think too highly of me, Will." His hands cup yours, causing you to look up at him. The eye contact is soft, yet his eyes squint, and you notice the small clench of his jaw.

"I don't think so. I reckon others think the world of you as well, " Will retorted seriously.

There it is again. What is so small and meaningless to him is the grandest gesture you could ever receive. Whatever way you feel is growing, and you're letting it kill you. You can hear it in the silence, see it with the lights off, and feel it when he steps into a room. It has never been clearer to you than now.

Will notes the silence on your end, reeling back his hands and letting the ball drop to the ground. He scratches the back of his neck before sweeping the ball between his feet and turning around.

"We should focus, shouldn't we? Keep practicing," he mutters absentmindedly. The words are caught in your throat, itching on the tip of your tongue. It takes every atom of your being not to blurt out your every thought. You try to ground yourself by moving your fingers, shaking off the tingling feeling Will left. Your mouth opens to say something, anything, but it snaps shut at the sight of the geordie man looking back at you.

So, instead, you ignore the interaction completely.

"Yeah, let's do that, practice."

And that’s what you did. Every day for a week, you both played until your fingers were numb and noses pink from the chill. The sun would be long gone, the stars visible in the dark, the dim lights that lit the field flickering during the times when they were ready to turn off.

And every night, when Will offered to take you home, you said yes. Will would walk on the side of the sidewalk closest to the road, his shoulder would bump into yours, and you would listen quietly to anything he had to say. He would go on and on and on the entire way home, and you still would ask if he wanted to come inside your flat for a few.

A few minutes would be you showing him your next video, and then you would cook together, and he would sit on your couch and scroll through his phone. The time moved quicker than it did on the field, causing you both to stay up late into the night.

“Where are you going?” You question from the couch, eyeing the way he begins to walk over to the door. He stands up straighter than before, looking at his phone, and then back up at you.

“Home, it’s late,” he reminded.

“Exactly. Stay, don’t act like you haven’t before,” you insist, already going to grab a few blankets and pillows for Will on the couch.

Some nights weren’t always like this. Sometimes, you’d watch something on the telly, and he’d scroll through his phone. Your body would press against his casually, like you two have done for months. Except you're more weary and hesitant, feeling like your every move was a gesture of something more.

For a week it felt like you two were playing house. It was odd, and you knew it. Everyone knew it. When James would call Will there would be quiet snickering, loud teasing. Faith and Sabina would ask for updates after seeing both of your story posts. When Simon called Will to see if he was coming to training day, he asked to speak to you knowing you’d be around.

Yet this didn’t stop the overnights at your flat, it didn’t stop Will from doing his work from your room, it didn’t prevent you from doing loads of laundry together, and it definitely didn’t stop you both from taking the train together to the hotel the day before the match.

⚽️…

The ground below you rumbles from the audience in the stadium. As the time passes you know it’s getting closer and closer to the start of the match. Your leg bounces up and down as you stretch in your own locker room, your hands shake putting on the red uniform, there’s a dryness in your throat that not even all the water in the world could wash away.

“You alright?” Wills asks quietly as his hand slips onto your shoulder. He’d been asking if you were okay ever since you lot left the hotel. And everytime you responded,

“Yeah, yeah,” except your eyebrows were knitted together, your hands picked at the beds of your nails, and you could barely interact with anyone without feeling like passing out.

“Don’t psyche yourself out, darlin. I make a fool of myself every year, all you have to do is show up and you’ve done your part!” he says delicately. You inhale through your nose at the nickname, jaw clenching to focus on breathing. All you do is nod, giving him a small smile.

You aren’t sure what will kill you first, the charity match, or the yearning in your heart. And hopefully, it’ll be the charity match.

Once everyone begins to stand, it’s three o’clock, and just like that the world begins to move incredibly fast. The lads begin two straight lines, moving through the tunnel swiftly. They all seem so confident and excited and you don’t think you even remember how to run. With Will standing infront of you, he’s the only thing that is blocking you and your vision from the roaring crowd outside.

Forgetting his gopro is on, you tap on Wills shoulder

“I’m literally shitting myself right now Will,” he laughs and he takes your hand in to his for a moment with a small squeeze,

“We’ll be all right, swear,” and by the time he turns around, you’re out in the field and the roar of the audience is jarring. You’re convinced your head whips an entire 360 to get a good look at how big the crowd was.

Once you’re down the field, you’re shaking hands with the opposing team. You nod politely and greet your friends, making polite, quick, small talks with JJ, Vik, Josh, Harry, and then Simon. You brief him with a handshake and shove at him lightly,

“God if this goes to shit, i’m blaming it all on you, ya know that?” you joke and he laughs loudly.

“I’ll keep that in mind, y/n”

You greet Chris, Tobi, and Jimmy finally before jogging your way to center to get ready for the kick off. You look back and squint your eyes to see Will as right wing, he can see you and he shows you a thumbs up. And for a moment, it washes away your nerves, until the whistle blows and the game has begun.

The first half of the match goes by incredibly fast. Chunkz and Niko make the first goals of the match, allowing for the teams spirits to remain high. You’re able to say that you helped assist Niko with his goal, tackling the ball under four large men. The next goal was made by Vik, and as a good sport, and friend, you made your way over to congratulate him properly.

You stay close to Hp and Chunkz during this time, the only two you feel like trust you enough with the ball. The banter is great but the encouragement they give you is better.

As the sweat beads on your forehead, your chest rises and falls quickly. Everytime you manage to catch your breath, you’re off running again. Your eyes squint looking towards Danny, seeing him get ready for the throw-in. You look around at your team and you eyes are quickly looking for Will, to see he’s already looking at you.

There’s a small smile followed by a little wave. You feel your chest tighten again, this overwhelming feeling is all so sudden and new. The sweaty palms, the overthinking, the flush on your neck. Hopefully it’s all from nerves, and not just from the Geordie man.

The moment ended as quick as the moment came, because Danny Aaron’s then throws the ball into the field. Luckily for you, you were on the edge of the box. The ball comes rolling toward you fast, you’re able to dribble it between your feet, swiftly moving past Callux. You decide to create space between the two of you, but with the other team circling in on you, the only thing to do was shoot.

So, you shoot.

The ball is headed straight towards the net and looks like it could make it past the post, but to your disappointment, the ball bounces off the post and goes right back onto the field.

“Shit,” you mutter out, a hand wracking through your hair ready to run after the ball again. But, Theo is quick to take the ball from under one of the lads on the opposing team, making a quick recovery by striking and making the goal.

A breath you didn’t know you’d been holding finally came out. While you smile and clap for Theo, your energy is low and you are so tired.

“Y/n!” a familiar voice yells from behind you, and you’re quick to turn around. Wills hair is pushed back and sweaty, yet he doesn’t think twice before engulfing you into a bone crushing hug.

“Not making a fool of myself am I?” you ask, pulling away to look at him. Will chuckles and shakes his head immediately,

“That’s a joke, right? You’re ridiculous,” he says sincerely and breathlessly. You thank him briefly before substitutions start to happen, allowing there to be some down time.

Which give you the time to remember what he said to you the first time you had practiced together.

“You still promised me a goal,” You mention, before looking into the gopro on his chest, “Will owes me a goal today, and I better get it,”

“I didn’t promise anything,” he counters quickly. Your head tilts at this, with wide eyes, and he nervously laughs and rubs his neck. Even though he knows you’re joking, he still feels the need to fulfill it.

“You know what, I’ll.. do my best to. I can promise you that, y/n.” And without warning, the lot of you are off again.

…

4 - 3

After the first half of the match, it’s looking promising for your team. Theo scored another goal, and spirits were still high. You were able to switch out and take a needed breather. But after the second half of the match started, that’s when your team started to take a tumble.

You were off the pitch until Pinero got injured, and needed a substitute. So with half a bottle of gatorade and an electrolyte packet in your system, you hopped to your feet and ran back on the field. Once you hear that Simon is getting switched out with Chris, you sigh.

“Fuckin’ hell,” you mutter under your breath, knowing that Chris is a force to be reckoned with. Speed also gets switched off the field, and you’re not sure without him you guys could win. You look around hoping to find a familiar face, but for some reason you can’t find him. Where is the left wing player?

Your thoughts are interrupted by the blow of the whistle, allowing the match to continue. You see the ball fly in the air, and you’re on your feet, going wide incase someone needs to pass. But the ball goes farther and faster than you could run, that’s when you see Will.

Will runs from left back and goes towards the net like he’s a striker. He runs right past Ethan and Harry, getting a close range of the ball. Once Chunkz taps it down, Will slides toward the ball, knocking it into the net.

In the 80’ minute, Will scores what could be the final goal of the match.

“Oh my god,” you say aloud, mouth agape.

In the moment you got tunnel vision. All you could see is Will getting on his feet and spin on his heels looking for something, someone. Everyone starts to run towards Will, to congratulate him, to dogpile on him. But when his eyes land on you, he bolts toward you with all his might.

As he’s running, he’s yelling something, pointing at you. He says it multiple times, too quick for you to make out.

“What!?” You yell breathlessly, leaning forward like you were going to be able to magically tell what he said. But without warning Will comes crashing into you, the impact causing you to stumble backwards, almost losing your footing.

Guess you’ll have to find out what he said later.

When you pull away, you grab onto his shoulders firmly, bouncing with delight.

“Did you see that? I haven’t scored a goal like that ever, i’ve always been in the back—“

“I know! I know!” you cut in between his excitement.

“I’m so glad you were here to see that—“ He’s quickly cut off by the rest of the team congratulating him. Patting him on the shoulder, squeezing him into a brief hug, Chris even comes over and says he’s done well.

You begin to back off to get back into the center field, watching as the smile on Wills face takes over him completely. He radiates warmth, sunshine, and complexities. The ache with quiet yearning, watching him celebrate. There was nothing in the world like it, and if it meant having Will this way rather than not at all- you’ll live with this ache forever.

8 - 7

The match finishes briefly after Will scores. Manny scoring at the 86’ minute tying up the two teams. And Simon, of course, gets the last goal of the match putting his team first. Your team is able to score another point, Theo ends up stepping up to kick the ball and Pie face blocks it from the net. Meaning, the Sidemen have won. Regardless, everyone is in a good mood no matter the turnout. All the players rush towards the field, congratulating each other, briefing the match that just ended.

You thank Hp and Chunkz for a good game, and shake Theos hand for being another good defensive player with you.

Simon makes his way over to you and he puts his hands on the tops of your shoulders, shaking you gently.

“See! It wasn’t so bad was it?” he teased. You roll your eyes and lick the dryness off your lips, admittedly, it wasn’t so bad. After you got over the burning in your chest, the ache in your sides, and the soreness in your thighs.

“Uh no, no, wasn’t too bad. I stayed with Hp and Chunkz a lot of the time, we were all playing really well,” you say before asking how Simon think he did.

“I got a hat trick and three assist, what more could I have asked for?”

“That’s fair,” is all you can respond with. All you can think of is the times you could’ve tried to score, the times you weren’t able to make a good pass, or interfere a pass. Simon reads your mind as he sees the conflict on your face, quick to bring you back to reality.

“I mean you were really great. A few assists, you and Theo on defense was a nightmare, there is no complaints on my end. I hope you consider coming back and playing again, Y/n, seriously.” Simon squeezes your shoulder one last time before he sees Harry, the two rushing towards one another excitedly.

You turn around to see Elz and Munga coming up to you with their mics, a cameraman following. They pull you away from the group of lads whilst everyone gets ready to clap around the stadium. Taking a step back upon seeing the camera, a lopsided smile creeps up on your face.

"Y/n, what an incredible match. You were all over the pitch this game! Can you give us some words about your first time playing in a Sidemen charity match and how it felt?" The mic comes in your face, and you let out an airy chuckle.

"Yeah..um, I haven't played footy since high school, really. When Simon asked for me to play, I was.. reluctant at first, you know, but now I'm really glad I said yes." You rattled on.

"We saw some great strikes on the pitch. How do you feel about barely missing the goal during the first half?" Munya asks.

Licking your lips, you let a beat go by for a moment so you can think. The question poses room for scrutiny from the audience; you can feel your stomach churn, anxiety creeping up on the hairs on the back of the neck. You knew if you seemed too confident, people would not like that, but if you seemed too humble, people would condemn you too.

"Uhm... That's a great question," you begin to say, craning your neck to look for comfort. Your eyes try to find someone in the swarm of people, desperate to get away from the hosts.

"It was my first time! I definitely could've made it if I had been a bit closer or wasn’t getting closed in on,” you finish honestly. There, you see Will is staying back to wait for you. His eyes are wide, and his head is slightly tilted; it's a tender look that was being reserved for you.

"We are thrilled to have you here, and we hope you come back next year,” Elz says and you thank them both quickly before jogging over to Will.

He doesn’t say anything, instead all he does is wrap his arm around your shoulder and guides you to where everyone else is doing their claps around the stadium. You’re curious to see if this moment will make the video, or any of the other ones between the two of you, after all it is up to Mikey.

You find yourself smiling at the crowd, the people, the cameras. In that moment, you truly felt like you belonged and deserved to be there. Saying hello to fans, signing papers, and receiving handmade items. Although, you knew that once this was over, you'd be under mass criticism. You'd go on Twitter and see everyone criticizing how you played, but getting the validation from your mates was all the resignation you needed to tune those other voices out.

“Why the sour face?” Will leans down to whisper to you, amongst the ruckus the lot is making as they leave the pitch.

“Nothing gets past you,” commenting, crossing your arms over on another. He rolls his eyes and groans at this.

“I know you,”

For a second you debate sucking it up, going to the pubs to celebrate with everyone after. Or, going back to the hotel room for the night, and getting ready to leave as soon as possible to see your cats back at home.

“All I want to do is go home, really,” you sigh. Wills face doesn’t change, all he does is hum in response before looking at his phone to see the time.

“Yeah? Why don’t we go back to the hotel and get going,” he suggests simply. You quirk an eyebrow, knowing that prior he was more than willing to go to the pubs with everyone.

“Is.. that what you want?” asking hesitantly. Giving him time to think, and change his mind. But without another beat passing he nods his head.

“Not what about what I want, let’s get home,”

He flashes you a soft, genuine smile that makes the corner of his eyes crinkle. Will smooths your hair done with his palm like always, before silently walking to the locker room to change.

You’re left to stand there, cheeks flushing. Home. Insinuating that home is with you. All of this feels so natural, the soft touches, the quiet intimacy, the longing stares. You wonder how long it’s going to take for you to crack, to risk it all and reveal the raw truth. But, for another day, you can hold on to the pieces of Will that you already have.

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