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lemielewis · 1 year

Text

WILL + LEMIE

where: hospital who: @lemielewis x @willxmeyers what: will wakes up at the hospital

WILL:

Will's body lied vertical in the hospital bed, his lungs, and heart going through the motions of life with a little extra help from the small pacemaker that now resided inside his chest cavity. He wasn’t still clinging to life, he was apparently on the road to recovery. Or so the doctors told whoever came around asking questions. The uncomfortable stiffness of his body was the first thing he felt, the next being the bright lights that shone in front of his eyelids. Keeping his eyes shut, his body slowly started coming back to life, waking from what felt like being hit by a bus. What would normally be known as a death rattle escaping his lips, thankfully it came out more like a groan. The orchestra of whirring and blipping of the machines and monitors that filled the room almost sounded like a pulse, beating in unison around one single, only just operational, heart that laid in the center of the room in the shape of a man. Broken but still beating.

LEMIE:

Despite their last conversation and the way their relationship had crashed and burned, the call Lemie had gotten from the hospital had been the most terrifying two minutes of her life. The nurse she had talked to had been so patient with her, having to repeat the same information a few times before Lemie managed to put all the words the woman was saying together in a way that made sense. Will. Hospital. Heart. Surgery. In her defense, they were scary fucking words together or apart.

She jumped in the first taxi she could find, making her way to the hospital the nurse had mentioned and marching in there yelling like she owned the damn place. Not long after, she was sitting next to Will's bed as he recovered, a scowl permanently etched on her face. She was pissed, to say the least. Mostly at him, but also at herself. Lemie had the decency to let him rest as long as he wanted, but the second his eyes opened… she was ready to give him hell.

After a few hours of pestering doctors and nurses with questions and nervously glaring at Will as he slept, she finally saw his eyelids flutter slightly. The first visible sign of life apart from the breathing. Blinding rage and relief washed over her, which was a weird sensation even for her. She sat back stubbornly, waiting for him to come to. "If you weren't already hurt, I would murder you," she hissed, not too worried about someone hearing her threaten him. "Who doesn't have an emergency contact? They had to go through your phone log and try to figure out who you wanted here." She didn't address the fact that they had picked her because her name seemed to come back the most.

WILL:

His eyes opened a sliver, the lights feeling so blinding that he almost wished it was that mysterious light people talked about seeing when they died. Almost. But as his vision adjusted, Will slowly pieced together what had happened. Memories of lying on the Oasis bathroom floor came to him in waves. The immense pain had subsided to an overall ache now, thankfully. But it didn’t mean he would be up and about any time soon.

For a moment, Will thought he was alone until she spoke. Slumped against a shitty hospital pillow, he turned his head slightly to see her sitting nearby. Had Will finally fully lost it and was hallucinating her? His lovesick stupid brain had snapped. There was no way she’d actually be here, not after what had happened. If this was heaven, he didn’t deserve to be here and if it was hell, he didn’t mind the torture of seeing her again. Will didn’t reach out to her, despite wanting to, in case it made the mirage disappear.

Lemie’s snide comment clued him into why she was here. Breaking the illusion that this was anything other than reality. “Emergency contacts are for people with loved ones,” Will replied in a rasp, the first words he’d spoken in what felt like days. He had officially asked anyone to take on this role, reckless as always. It was unlikely to be any family, given most were dead and the remaining were estranged. The pain from the tube they’d used to keep his lungs going lingered in his throat, his chest felt like someone was pushing down on it. His eyebrow pinched. “What happened?” He knew the cliff notes version, probably an overdose. Which would be very embarrassing to have to admit to his NA group, but he doubted they’d be all that surprised by him. But it didn’t feel like it at the time it was happening.

LEMIE:

Lemie would’ve thought waking up to her bitch face would at least scare Will a little, but for a second her looked almost happy to see her. What the fuck was wrong with this man? “You’re a fucking dumbass,” she added, as if he didn’t already know that. After her talk with his doctors, she had realized he was even more of a dumbass than she thought.

“Don’t try to make me feel bad for you because you can’t and I won’t,” she said categorically, leaning forward as to get closer to him. She wasn’t embarrassed about the things she was saying, but she didn’t want to get kicked out either. Honestly, she didn’t think she’d be able to let him out of her sights for the foreseeable future.

“Like a dumbass, you decided to revert back to your coke-head days and your stupid, malfunctioning heart decided to quit on you,” she told him, her voice growing in volume with every word. She was exposing how much she cared, how much she worried, and she hated it. “Meaning you had a heart attack. Apparently, amongst the myriad of things you decided not to tell me, there was a genetic disease. One that you were supposed to be monitoring and just decided not to, evidently. So, you have a pacemaker now. Idiot.”

WILL:

Despite her fury and how he felt roadkill that had been left on a highway, Will’s lips still twitched with a smile at her. He wasn’t sure what it said about him that he found her berating him hilarious, especially now. He listened intently, as Lemie pieced it together for him. She wouldn’t feel bad for him and that was valid, this was truly a hell of his own making. He couldn’t blame anyone else, except his stupid self. “I knew about the cokehead stuff. That part I was actually conscious for.” It was the aftermath that was a bit fuzzy.

The heart disease wasn’t news to him. He knew it was in his family, it was how his dad died. In a similar fashion, with people who hated him at his bedside. Will felt a pang of hurt at the thought, that despite everything he tried, he ended up just like his father. “A pacemaker?” Will repeated, it made sense why his chest felt like it was tight. It had been ripped open and sewn back together. He turned his eyes away from her and towards the ceiling, focusing on the gross water damaged spot that hung above him.

“I guess that means no more playing with magnets,” he sighed, feeling a little more himself. Or maybe it was the pain medication that ran through his system. It was a life-altering thing, to now have something else assisting his every heartbeat. But he couldn’t comprehend the seriousness of it. Not right now. “That’s a shame. I bloody love magnets.”

LEMIE:

Lemie was completely baffled by his reaction, the smile on his face making zero sense to her. She was so upset with him, so worried, and he was smiling. “Stop smiling! Are you still high? What part of you almost died on a dirty bathroom floor do you not understand?” She asked him, so loudly a few heads peaked in the door to check on them. Lemie ignored them, in typical Lemie fashion. “I figured, but I wanted to rub salt into the wound a little. Out of all your stupid decisions, that was the worse.”

The pacemaker news seem to hit him the hardest and, honestly, Lemie had not a clue as to why. It was probably related to one of the many things he’d kept from her. “Yeah, a pacemaker. It’s basically keeping you alive, so… don’t look so fucking bummed about it. You’re lucky you’re still here,” she told him, wanting him to grasp the seriousness of the situation. She wasn’t sure he did. He didn’t look half as shaken as she did.

“More importantly it means no more drugs and regular checkups you actually go to, dumbass. Magnets are the least of your worries.” Lemie was quickly losing patience, her worry not exactly easing given his reaction. Would he go back out into the world and immediately try to find himself some coke? It sure looked like he might with how nonchalant he was being. “Is this funny to you? Do you know what it felt like getting that stupid call?”

WILL:

She was right, as usual. It wasn’t funny in the typical sense. If he had died on that dirty bathroom floor, he wouldn’t have gently disappeared into that long night. No sense of peace overcame him in the end. It was just a long list of regrets that now that he’d somehow pulled through, Will would eventually have to address. The biggest one was letting her go. “I understand it all just fine,” his eyes still on the ceiling, thinking it through. The last thing he wanted was to upset her further, but controlling himself was not easy in his current state.

He wasn’t feeling particularly lucky, but it was better than dead. If they had asked him whether or not they should put the pacemaker in, Will would have probably told them not to bother. It was better used on someone who deserved it. But he kept that to himself. It was a sobering thought and Will remained quiet, turning a little somber as she practically begged him to take this seriously. He turned his head back to her, eyes meeting hers. “I’m sorry,” Will began. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. But you’re right, that was a stupid decision and if it makes you feel better, I have a feeling I will continue to pay for it.” His IV-clad hand motioned loosely to his chest, which was feeling particularly achy. The beeps and boops of the machines attached to him increased with his alertness.

“I am not sorry that they called you, I’m actually quite happy about it. I am sorry that it happened and that you were worried about me, but I honestly didn’t think I was going to see you again. And now I do.” It was as simple as that. “So that’s why I was smiling.” He waited for a moment before looking back up at the ceiling, exhausted by speaking so much. But it didn’t stop him from adding. “If none of that made any sense, forgive me. I just had heart surgery.”

LEMIE:

Lemie deflated slightly when he assured her he understood what had happened and the severity of it all. He still wasn't taking it as seriously as she wanted him to, but everyone had different ways of coping with shit like this. She coped with anger, he made a joke out of it. It wasn't his fault their coping methods weren't exactly compatible. "Doesn't look like it," she muttered, falling back into the chair and crossing her arms over her stomach like a child throwing a tantrum.

Everything she had said to him so far pointed towards her wanting an apology but getting it didn't feel quite right. It surely didn't alleviate the guilt she felt over him relapsing and ending up here. Although she wasn't egotistical enough to think she was the sole reason for him snorting lines in a shitty club's bathroom, she did think their fight and estrangement had played a small part in it. Had it been worth it? She didn't think so. It seemed kind of silly now if anything. "Yeah, I guess you will," she admitted, following his hand to his chest, her own heart aching in a way it never had. "Why would you do something like that? Why would you willingly skip out on important medical checkups? Do you want to die? Because I'm not equipped to handle something like that. Heart issues, addiction, I can live with, but not a death wish."

Lemie shook her head in annoyance, not that surprised by his answer because she could see where he was coming from. Despite the circumstances being less than ideal, it had forced them back together in a way and she'd be lying if she said she hadn't missed him. "Well, stop it. It's annoying. We would've seen each other again at work, stupid." She sighed deeply, getting up from her chair to fetch him a glass of water. "You sound like Marge Simpson, so have this." She held it out for him, not quite sure how to go about this. Lemie had never been great at taking care of people, especially not people she was particularly upset at.

WILL:

Will groaned at the question. Whether or not he wanted to die was a complicated one with many answers depending on so many things. Right now, it felt like he already had and he’d come back more a mangled corpse than a man. “I was busy,” he answered, seeing the cop out ahead and leaning into it. But acting this way was why she’d left in the first place. So he sighed and spoke truthfully. “And I didn’t want to deal with it. I hate hospitals and doctors and following the stupid instructions they give.” Now it was his turn to sound like a child. “I thought if I just... I don’t know, looked after myself, it’d be fine.” He stopped for a moment before adding, “Drug relapse not included.” He’d removed most stress from his life, eaten well, and exercised daily, Will thought that was enough to get by. But apparently not.

Truthfully, there was a lot Will was willing to ignore. He was stubborn like that and denial ran deep. Will hadn’t even thought about how they would have handled seeing each other at the cottage. He had a feeling it wouldn’t be pining looks from across the room. More like fiery daggers shooting at his head. “Maybe we would have, but it wouldn’t have been the same.” And that’s what he wanted, things to go back to how they were. He attempted to shuffle upwards in the bed, earning a hiss of pain as he did so but eventually, he was more upright and he took the cup from her with a stilted thank you. The water helped soothe his throat but only slightly. There was more to say it seemed, maybe nearly dying made him feel better about opening up, maybe it was the morphine or maybe he was worried that if he wasn’t quick enough, she’d be gone again. “I should have told you everything, I know that. I was being.. stupid. A dumbass, as you would say. A running theme.” How many apologies could be squeezed into a minute? “I should have fought harder.”

LEMIE:

Being busy sounded like one more bullshit excuse coming from him. She knew for a fact he wasn't too busy to go to a few appointments, they worked together after all. She knew his schedule rather well. He wanted to avoid the actual question most likely. “We're not talking about annoying rules teachers made us follow in school, we're talking about instructions that could very well keep you alive,” she insisted, not really buying into his logic. She hated authority so much, but even she wouldn't fuck with instructions from a doctor. “Right, I'll remember that when I have to write your eulogy. 'He thought he could keep himself alive by taking his vitamins and going on long-walk on the beach. May he rest in peace.' How does that sound?” She wasn't even touching the relapse, he knew what she thought of that and was probably beating himself up enough as it was.

Had she wanted him to fight for her? Probably, to some extent. To ask her to say, to go over the things he had hidden from her. As fast as she had been to dismiss him and their relationship, he had been just as quick to let her go. They were both in the wrong, as much as she hated to admit it. “It's too late now, so what's the point in dwelling on it?” The point was that she still cared about him, more than she could articulate right now. She was overwhelmed with countless emotions and she didn't think she should be making any decisions right now. He probably shouldn't either given how heavily medicated he was. “The doctors said you shouldn't be alone for a while, so I thought I could stay with you. Just while you recover. I assume you have a guest room.”

WILL:

Had he known this would have been the outcome, maybe Will would have taken their caution around his heart more seriously. “I don’t know what you want me to say,” he replied lowly. She had asked for his reasoning and he had given it, stupidity and all. If this is what being honest got him, it made sense to keep his ridiculous thinking to himself. Her reenactment of his eulogy did siphon a small chuckle from him which only made him wince in pain. “Without the context of my heart exploding, that was actually quite nice. Hopefully, we can make a few edits before you have to perform it for real.” He’d been given another chance a life, whether he wanted it or not, so he might as well keep trying.

So it was too late. There was no coming back from this no matter how many times he apologised. And Will supposed that was what he deserved. This wasn’t some bid for attention or a cry for help, and she’d said clearly that there was no making her feel bad for him. Will turned back and shut his eyes, unsure if he could stand watching her leave again. But they opened quickly when she offered to look after him after he was discharged. Confusion covered his face. “I do,” it came out as a question, but he gave as much of a nod as he could. Will wasn’t completely alone. He did have others that could help, but none that he wanted as much as her. An ex-wife that would berate him just as hard, as well as the various friends he’d managed to keep. But everyone else paled in comparison. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything you don’t want to.” She shouldn’t have to drop everything to look after him. “But I also don’t want to miss an opportunity to have you over to my house.” A callback to their fight. It was probably too soon to make light of it, given everything.

LEMIE:

She was telling him things he already knew, that much was obvious. He was beating himself up about it and she wasn't exactly helping. No words were enough to explain just how horrible that initial phone call had been. Not knowing if he was going to make it or not had been torture, which said all it needed to say about her feelings for him. They weren't gone, no matter how hard she was being on him. “Nothing, I just thought you needed to hear that your stupid decisions don't just affect you. There are people around that care about you, people that are gonna be hurt by this. People that are going to miss you.” As vague as she was, she was obviously referring to herself. It wasn't like she knew anyone else in his life. “I'll only make edits if you die in a less stupid way. You've been warned.”

He was putting her in a tough spot by giving her a way out. She didn't want to tell him that she would've been able to sleep at night if she wasn't there, right next to him, to make sure he was taking care of himself. She didn't want him to know that she was fighting so hard not to crawl into his hospital bed and put her ear to his chest to make sure his heart was beating correctly. “I wouldn't have offered if I didn't want to do it. Do I look like someone who does things against her will? Don't make a big deal out of it,” she said quickly, hoping to dismiss any inkling he might have that she wasn't as over him as she liked to pretend. “It took you almost dying to get an invite, so my expectations are high.”

WILL:

The typical William selfishness meant he hadn’t thought about anyone else but himself at the moment he decided to jump off the deep end. It was like it was a well-thought-out plan, it was an itch that begged to be scratched. But there were people, ones likely to show up in the coming days that would echo her sentiments. “I expect others will come and berate me as well.” Friends, mostly. No family to speak of, there was no way his sister could find out about this. “You know I wasn’t like I was trying to die,” he felt the need to say, in case it wasn’t clear. “I just wanted to forget for a bit.” Look how well that turned out. “Suppose that’s what happens when you’re officially too old to party.”

She looked like she was having some kind of internal battle, maybe deciding if it was a mistake to offer. But it was true, she didn’t do things she didn’t want to do so he guessed that said something. As long as Lemie knew she wasn’t obliged to look after him, that was all that mattered. “I hope you’re not expecting a castle. It’s just a house, no moat.” He wasn’t exactly living a lavish lifestyle these days. “I do have that lovely king-sized bed though. You’re welcome to have it and I can sleep in the guest room. Probably shouldn’t tackle stairs yet, anyway.” Considering that he’d just come to, it would be a little while before he’d be discharged.

LEMIE:

Did it mean something that she was the first to show up, the first to give him this speech about his actions having consequences on more people than just him? Had she given herself away by showing up here and taking charge of the situation? Probably, to some extent. If Will knew what was good for him, he wouldn't point it out. “Well, that's a relief. I mean who chooses to die in dirty public bathrooms?” Definitely not the most worrisome part of the whole ordeal, but she was just as good at deflecting as he was. “How ironic. You trying to forget led me right back to you.” He would have a hard time forgetting this part of his life with her being in his face all the time. “Yeah, well, needless to say, you're done partying and snorting cheap coke.”

It was weird making plans about where she would be staying at his house after the major fight they'd just had. They're never been too conventional, though, so it wasn't too surprising. “We'll see what makes the most sense. It'd be weird kicking you out of your room. I do think I deserve the king-size bed way more than you do, though. Especially after being forced to sleep in this chair for the foreseeable future.”

WILL:

As someone who had nearly died in a dirty club bathroom, Will felt he could answer her obviously a rhetorical question. “Heathens and drug addicts, mostly.” Both of which he definitely was and although it hadn’t been his intention, being such a way had consequences that he now had to live with.

The idea of forgetting her at all seemed irrational in hindsight. If something like this could bring her to him, what was wrong with a simple phone call? A heartfelt apology letter? He’d remember this for the next time they’d inevitably fight. “Some might call that fate, you know.” If you believed in such things. He grunted as he moved slightly, trying to get comfortable was impossible with this shit on his chest. Making light of himself seemed like the only way he was going to get through this, so the witty remarks carried on, a little slower than usual. “Had I known it was going to be the last time, I would buy something more special for the occasion. Really gone out with a bang.” He supposed that had happened anyway when his heart gave out.

The realisation dawned on Will that he didn’t actually know how long he’d already been here. Or how long she had. “You slept here?” Eyebrows pinched in concern, he wasn’t sure why it surprised him that she had. “How long have you been here?” Which led to another question, how long had he?

LEMIE:

Lemie snorted at his answer, which was the closest thing he'd get to a laugh out of her at this point. It was all still so fresh, her feelings too conflicting to really allow her to let her guard down just yet. “Touché,” she said quietly, crossing her fingers that this would be his last close call. The odds of him getting this lucky a second time were slim to none.

Her blue eyes rolled dramatically to the back of her eyes at the suggestion that this had happened because some cosmic force was trying to bring them together. “The fact that you had to almost die for us to be in the same room together really doesn't bode well for us.” Lemie shook her head, not able to find the humor in this situation just yet. It was too soon, it had been too close a call. “I'm being serious. You can't do this again. If you don't figure your shit out, I won't be here next time. I'm not going to stick around to watch you kill yourself.”

The blonde shrugged, the very picture of nonchalance if you didn't look closely enough. “They called me while you were having surgery. I stayed in the waiting room until they gave me the okay to come in here with you,” she explained, keeping her tone light. The wait had been pure torture. “I've been here since then. Not really sure how long it's been… Twenty-four hours-ish.”

WILL:

Knocking at death’s door does shift things in terms of perspective. Will knew now that maybe their fight wasn’t as relationship-ending as it seemed at the time. And as she said the word us, he couldn’t help but feel hope for them. “I like to think that’s what makes us special.” It was easy to fall back into his feelings for her, they hadn’t gone anywhere and they both knew it.

His jokes weren’t funny and she wasn’t having it. Not even in an eye-rolling, “you’re an idiot” kind of way. “I know,” he said acknowledging that he only got to pull this bullshit once. “My NA group is going to be so disappointed I missed a session. I really bring the vibes to that church basement.” It was his way of saying he had been trying but maybe it was better to just say it. So he looked at her solemnly. He’d take her hand if he wasn’t hooked up to the various machines. “I’ll be better. Promise.” Will just hoped it wouldn’t end up being a lie.

Will nodded, thinking of how long it’d been. Thankfully it wasn’t like he’d lost more than a couple days. Which compared to dying wasn’t all that bad. “You must be exhausted, it’s okay if you want to go home. Get some rest. It’s not like I’m going anywhere anytime soon.” He meant in a locational sense, but it could also be applied to his overall state of being.

LEMIE:

He had to know what hearing him say cheesy shit like that did to her, the way it made her heart do somersaults inside her chest. He had to know, if only because of her presence there today, that she wasn't over him, over them. “Shut up. We're not having this conversation while you can barely sit up on your own. I wanna be able to yell at you without worrying about your new pacemaker giving out.”

His jokes were obviously a way to protect himself, to deflect from the seriousness of the conversation they were having. She could let it slide, as long as she was sure he understood that he would lose her for good if something like this happened again. “Right, I'm sure you're the life of the party over there,” she said with a chuckle. He probably came up with all sorts of interesting stories to avoid talking about real shit. Unless he actually managed some honesty, protected by the anonymity those meetings provided. “I'll hold you to that.”

He was right, he would probably be stuck in this bed for a few more days at the very least. She intended to only leave if absolutely necessary. “I'm fine. I've slept in worst places than a chair. If you think I'm leaving and missing out on whatever instructions from the doctor you would otherwise ignore, you've got another thing coming.”

WILL:

An attempt at a chuckle was made but it didn’t come to fruition. It only made his chest hurt more, he truly had to stop finding things funny. “Alright, give me a couple days and then you can really let me have it.” Maybe once the machinery in his chest got used to beating especially fast when she was around. He was feeling a little lightheaded, but that was to be expected. “But you do realise this is the best time to interrogate me, I’m helpless and weak. I’m also high as a kite and it’s not like I can run anywhere.” And maybe he wanted to prove he’d learned his lesson. That he could give her the whole truth if that’s what she really wanted.

Will had always been bad at keeping promises. Making them was the easiest thing in the world but actually making sure to follow through? That’s where he lost people. But he didn’t cop out on a technicality. He didn’t say he’d try and be better so that if he failed, there was some wiggle room and maybe he’d get a third chance. He knew he was lucky to be receiving a second one. Lemie didn’t seem like the type to just forgive and forget so he knew it was now or never. He had to make it work.

It was sweet that she didn’t want to leave, even if it was wrapped up in making sure his stupidity didn’t linger. “I’m in their house now. Pretty sure if I don’t listen, I’ll get strapped down and I’m not really into that.” Even being confined to a bed was difficult for him, he liked to be up and about but simple things like shuffling in bed and breathing on his own were still difficult, so there was none of that.

LEMIE:

Lemie was fully planning on letting him feel her wrath in due time, maybe over a long period of time as well. He wouldn't be wrong to assume her presence at the hospital meant she was ready to give him another shot, but he also wouldn't be wrong to assume she would make him work damn hard for it. "No. When you finally tell me about all the things you thought were going to scare me off, you'll be fully sober. I'm not letting you do it while you're high on morphine, that's a cop-out," she told him, her tone making it clear she wasn't going to change her mind about this. "You can give me a preview, though."

He was right about him being at a disadvantage while in the hospital, but it was more about making sure she was aware of all the things he was supposed to do once he got out of there. Could she trust him to relay all the information correctly? Recent events made her think not. "I'm not leaving, so you can stop trying to chase me away. Plus, I'd really like to be here if they do decide to try the strapping-you-to-the-bed method. I think I'd get great enjoyment out of that."

WILL:

That was fair, he supposed. It also wasn’t like she could yell at him fully in here without getting kicked out so he understood her unwillingness to let it be easy. He only hoped that opening up to her wasn’t going to be any more ammo she could shoot his way. Will wasn’t sure that his now mechanical heart could take it. “Kinky,” he retorted to her wanting to see him bound. Most of his quips were monotone, exhaustion from being alive again washed over him like waves.

“Heart attack was how my dad died,” he revealed, looking away and suddenly becoming very engrossed in the off-white waffle blanket that covered his legs. “I think I lost an uncle that way too. Men in my family have always had very uncooperative hearts.” He played with a loose thread between his fingers. “My dad tended to not use his at all, so I think it just gave out from atrophy.”

It was one of the hardest things for him to talk about. Perhaps it was a display of good faith, that he would tell her what she wanted to know, that he told her a truth that no one alive knew. “My shoulder was broken and I did need surgery for it. But it wasn’t an accident and I wasn’t the one who caused it.” He looked over at her, hoping he didn’t have to verbalise it. “Some people are just really not supposed to be parents,” he added softly. This wasn’t a reveal for any kind of sympathy but an explanation of why he didn’t talk about it further when she had brought it up before.

LEMIE:

"I can be," she said with a knowing smile, although fleeting. If she was going to stay with him until he got back on his own two feet, she would have to make an effort from time to time. Otherwise, it'd be a pretty bleak time for both of them. So, she allowed herself and Will a little bit of a break. He deserved it, he was trying. Even she could admit that. Apart from relapsing and almost dying, he was doing and saying all the right things.

Lemie wasn't sure what she had expected his big secret to be, but even she had to admit the truth was ugly. So ugly that she felt bad for pressuring him to tell her. The truth made the revelation that heart issues ran in the family pale in comparison. She wanted to reach out for his hand, to give him some kind of control, but she also didn't want to think she pitied him. She hated pity, as most people did and as Will most likely did as well. "Is it bad I'm kind of glad he died? Because I am. If he wasn't, I hope you know I would've made it very, terribly painful."

WILL:

“You can’t say things like that while I’m in here, you’ll kill me.” He was sure Lemie had probably thought of killing him multiple times while he’d been lying there, actively trying not to die all on his own. If his heart rate elevated too much, there was no telling what would happen. Better to think of other things. Cold showers. Conan O’Brien.

Will gave her a small smile. He was well aware of what his father was like, none of it good, but it was hard to reconcile with the person other people saw. He was a “great man” who “loved his family” - so Will had learned to not speak negatively of the patriarch. Only quietly simmered with the truth, or flat-out ignored it. Gregory Meyers had the same charm that Will did, a way with people that meant he could manipulate his way into anything and get away with nearly everything. Even in death.

“Well lucky for you, you’ll never have to meet him.” Will’s father would have hated any person who spoke back to him, especially women. He didn’t long to think of how well a Meyers family dinner with Lemie would have gone. “But if he felt even a quarter of what I did, I can assure you - it was very painful.” Will looked down at his chest, the various bits attached to him, now that he was fully awake, he could see some of the damage through the V of his hospital gown. “Do you happen to find scars rugged and sexy? I think this one will be a bitch to heal.”

LEMIE:

“You deserve to feel a little bit uncomfortable,” Lemie said with a devilish smile, enjoying this way too much given his condition. “I’m gonna be staying with you and I really don’t like wearing pants, so… Better get used to it.”

It was probably a good thing that he wasn’t around for her to meet. If he was as impatient (to put it nicely) as Will seemed to imply he was, Lemie and he would’ve clashed within seconds of meeting. She was unable to hold her judgment in and was wildly protective of the people she loved. She felt murderous just hearing that he had hurt Will.

“Lucky for him, you mean. I would’ve ended him. Glad it was painful, though,” she said flatly, anger simmering right beneath the surface. His question did manage to alleviate the heaviness in the room a little and she couldn’t help the scoff that left her mouse. “No, actually the scar is a dealbreaker. Please.”

WILL:

Despite it all, it was nice to see anything other than a scowl on her face. He was sure that there was no way she’d continue to put up with him, especially now. But here she was, bantering with him like before. “If I die from you wearing no pants, can you leave that out of the eulogy? I have a reputation to uphold.”

He could see the rage on her features, obviously, his confession hadn’t stirred up sympathy for him but anger on his behalf. He was thankful for it. Looks of pity were not something he enjoyed. Maybe if someone close to him felt the same as she did, things would have been different but no one stood up for themselves in his household, it only made things worse. Will took the brunt, so his mother and sister didn’t have to, but no one escaped unscathed. The rest didn’t know or didn’t care to. Maybe she understood why it wasn’t exactly pre-first date pillow talk now. But it felt strangely good for her to know. Will wasn’t about to debate who would win in a fight, he’d never seen his father lose anything except his life. But Lemie’s words did cut through like a knife. So maybe they were evenly matched.

Now the trauma dump was over, for now, he could go back to talking about other things, feeling a little lighter. “What? Scars are cool, everyone says so.” Maybe not self-inflicted ones that were a result of stupidity, but still. “Hopefully they did a better job piecing this back together than my shoulder. I couldn’t move it for ages.”

LEMIE:

"Not a chance. It'll go something like this… 'The shitty coke didn't kill him, but Clementine Lewis' naked ass sure did. May he rest in peace.' Like it?" Lemie asked him, a seemingly innocent smile on her face. At this point, she was probably doing the opposite of what the doctors had ordered, but the beeping of the machine monitoring him was still pretty steady, so… No harm done.

"I still think you should've been honest with me. I know this isn't light and fun, but what did you think was going to happen once you told me? What you just told me pisses me off, but it doesn't make me see you any differently. At least not in a negative way. It just explains things," she said with a smile, hoping he didn't feel like he had been forced to spill the beans. Hoping he didn't regret it. "I would have run the other way."

Lemie shook her head, the look she gave him very obviously judging him for the things he chose to focus on. "Won't be enough to get in my pants again if that's what you were hoping for," she told him with a grin. "Is that you trying to warn me that I'll be waiting on you hand and foot for a long ass time?"

WILL:

Will let out a snort, the only kind of laughter he could do without straining himself too much. “Sounds like the perfect way to go,” he commented, a lopsided smirk on his face. For all the riling she was doing, he wasn’t feeling particularly sexual himself, being all hooked up to machinery was a bit of a boner killer.

Apparently, there was more to say but he didn’t bother trying to shy away from it. “It wasn’t about you,” he assured her. “I didn’t tell anyone. Ever. Even the doctors didn’t know what happened, although they could have probably guessed. My mum had a busted lip, she’d been crying. He said that no one would believe me if I said anything and he’d just pay off anyone who did. I’d seen him do it before, so I had no reason but to believe him.” He was somewhere between a boy and a man when this had all happened but for all of his life, whatever his father said came to pass. “I guess it’s just a reflex to hide it. Even now he’s gone. I usually use a foolproof backup story about skiing in the Alps, but I didn’t want to lie to you. But I also didn’t want you to know the truth.” He pursed his lips together. “You can see my predicament.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not fully convinced I can feel my body from the waist down yet so I don’t think getting into anyone’s pants but my own anytime soon.” Not that it was the furthest thing from his mind, but it definitely wasn’t a top priority right now. “Probably, if you get sick of it, I can just hire someone. They won’t have the same bedside manner though.”

LEMIE:

As far as ways to die went, being shaken by how great her ass looked wasn’t terrible. “Better than the way you almost went, that’s for damn sure,” she told him with a chuckle. Her laughter died out quickly when she remembered she was supposed to be mad at him. She had a weak spot when it came to Will, but she still wasn’t convinced that just picking up where they left off before was a great idea. Did he really need to be dealing with a fragile relationship on top of drug addiction and heart issues? Probably not.

Lemie gave him her full attention as he explained why he had chosen to keep this part of his story to himself. His logic made sense, it was impossible to deny it. He had been conditioned to believe no one would ever believe him. Even as an adult, it probably wasn’t the easiest thing to get over. “Why didn’t you want to tell me? I would’ve believed you, you know that.”

“I think even that last part might not be happening for a bit.” The doctors have said something about physical effort and having to avoid it during his recovery. He’d taken one look at Lemie and thought it relevant to ask that sex did count as physical activity. The glare he had gotten in response had been enough to chase him out of the room. “They might have a better bedside manner, let’s not kid ourselves.”

WILL:

Her laughter made his heart clench, he wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing given his current condition. Most likely not. But it did still fill him with joy that even as everything stood, he could still make her laugh. Maybe things would be alright after all. He wasn’t so stupid to think that she wasn’t still pissed at him, and rightly so. Will had played a stupid game and won a stupid prize, but it was one that still kept him alive.

Maybe she couldn’t get over the fact that he didn’t want to tell her, it wasn’t about believing now. Will was the only living person who could tell the story, no one alive could attest to what happened but still, he kept it a secret. “It’s not about that,” he said lowly, eyes dropping. “When he was alive, sure. It was a secret I thought no one would believe. And it wasn’t the only time too, it’s just the only time it left a scar.” It felt stupid to be talking about it, what happened to him wasn’t an excuse for how he behaved. “I just honestly don’t like talking about it. I don’t like the pity and weirdly, I don’t like hating my dad. He may have been a piece of shit, but I wouldn’t be here without him.” So much of his life was dedicated to making his father proud and Will had failed time and time again.

Will rolled his eyes dramatically, groaning as he did. “So you have to help me into my pants and I don’t get to help you out of yours? That seems highly unfair to me.” Maybe it would have been nice to just relax and have someone look after him for a while if it were anyone other than Will. He’d never had someone care for him like that unless they were getting paid to. “Good bedside manner is overrated. I much prefer being belittled and made fun of, it makes the healing go faster.”

LEMIE:

Lemie had figured that the shoulder thing wasn’t the only display of violence from Will’s father—although perhaps it had been the worse. “Whatever. I can hate it more than enough for the both of us. Him somewhat contributing to your birth doesn’t allow him to do that to you,” she said, pointing at his shoulder, at the wound she knew was hiding under the fabric. “And I don’t pity you, for the record. I’m angry for you because you deserved fucking better than that.”

She chuckled, shaking her head slowly. “You’re gonna have to work really damn hard to ever get to take off my clothes again. Luckily for you, there seems to be plenty of time for you to do just that.” In reality, she would be taking care of him and not the other way around, but she figured it would give them time to patch things up if such a thing was in the cards for them. “Stress and terror are good for healing? That’s new.”

WILL:

Will felt like either the morphine was wearing off or perhaps he just hated this particular topic of conversation. He felt like throwing up, but he couldn’t determine why. Maybe it was the major surgery he just had. “Being angry about it doesn’t change anything, it just makes you angry.” He’d felt all the emotions of it, several times over but it never changed. Rehab therapy had told him to process it and move on, he’d tried to do the latter numerous time. But he never truly processed it. “I appreciate you saying that though.” Will wasn’t sure he necessarily believed it himself.

He would have to work hard, Will knew that but he’d hoped that so far he’d shown that he would try. “I can’t exactly sweep you off your feet right now,” he replied lightly. “But when I can, I will.” Will shut his eyes softly and chuckled. “I’m never stressed or terrified when you’re around, even when you’re trying to be that way. I find your anger quite charming. It shows that you care.”

LEMIE:

"You sound like my therapist," Lemie muttered reluctantly with a roll of her eyes. It didn't matter that she knew anger was as useless as the therapy sessions she stubbornly attended, but the familiarity of it was almost comforting at this point. Better to feel anger than to feel nothing at all, it gave her purpose, she thought. That was the whole problem, wasn't it? "Don't thank me, just believe it. I know you well enough to tell you don't. It probably partly explains why you don't want to talk about it."

She chuckled, picturing what might happen if he tried to literally sweep her off her feet in his condition. They'd probably both end up on the floor and not in a sexy way. "Yeah, you work on your big romantic gesture in the meantime," she said, the coldness in her tone slowly slipping away. It was hard to stay mad at him. "I'm glad you're the only one unhinged enough to think shit like that. Otherwise, my reputation would be completely ruined."

WILL:

“I never thought I’d be the peddler of sage wisdom. Must be old age.” Will was feeling particularly old and decrepit, which seemed fitting. But he sat in the uncomfortableness of her words, still unsure if with the entire understanding of himself and the long list of sins committed, if they were true. If life was about a balance of good and evil, Will knew which end of the spectrum he lived in. “Considering I’ve just had a near-death experience, maybe I can get to dealing with my daddy issues later. Kinda got my hands full.”

Will hadn’t thought about a big romantic gesture, other than giving her the truth like she wanted. And although she said it maybe sarcastically, he would come up with something. It’s not like he had anything else to do. “Other people are blind if they can’t see that.” If someone didn’t care, they wouldn’t waste their energy on being angry. “But I’ll keep it to myself so I don’t wreck your image.”

As he finished speaking, a doctor rounded the corner, looking over some papers on a clipboard. He looked nervously at Lemie before speaking directly at Will. “Mr. Meyers, I’m glad to see you’re awake. How are you feeling?” Will wasn’t sure exactly how to answer that honestly so naturally, he cracked a joke. “Like someone played a bad game of Operation on me.” It did not land. The doctor cleared his throat before beginning to check over him. “You’re lucky to be alive,” the doctor said, sounding as annoyed as a Lemie did for him not taking it seriously. Will looked over at her, who was watching eagle-eyed and listening intently. “So I’ve been told.”

LEMIE:

“You have almost a decade on me and, yet, I’m not the one half alive on a hospital bed,” she said flatly, still not over the fact this had happened at all. It’d take her a while and no sad stories from his past would get her mind off his stupidity. “Let’s add finding your therapist to our list of shit to do in order to fix Will’s life. Given that I have both daddy and mommy issues, I have no business giving you advice.”

Despite normally hating compliments, the ones that came from weird had this weird effect on her. Yes, it was kind of cringy to hear someone vocalize how they thought so highly of her, but it was also the warmth in her cheeks and the way her heart beat just a little faster. “They can stay blind, I don’t want their attention. I like it when they fear me, I can avoid most social interactions that way.”

Their conversation was interrupted by yet another doctor coming to do a quick checkup on Will. She was listening attentively, ready to make mental notes, when Will decided to crack the worst joke she’d ever heard. “Ignore him, the drugs he snorted killed the few brain cells he had remaining,” she told the doctor, shooting a glare Will’s way while she was at it.

WILL:

“Do as I say, not as I do.” If it were any of his friends in this position, he wasn’t sure he’d be so sanguine about it all. The mention of a therapist made him bristle, but there was no point in fighting. If that’s what she wanted, it’s what he’d do. He’d been to therapy before when he was in rehab, but Will knew it was something that only helped if you really wanted to change. Until now, he didn’t feel the need to.

The death glare he received from her made the joke worth it, the doctor didn’t seem to think so. “Yes, speaking of the drugs you ingested..” the doctor turned to Lemie, before looking back at Will conspiratorially. “We can have this conversation privately if you like.” If the doctor didn’t currently have his stethoscope on Will’s recently opened chest cavity, he would have laughed. “She’s staying, she’ll remember whatever you say better than I will. She’s right about the brain cells.” Not to mention, the doctor could try and remove her but Will knew who would come out on top. “Are you family?” The doctor spoke directly to Lemie now.

LEMIE:

"Trust me, I plan on doing neither what you say nor what you do," she said with a grin, leaning in a bit closer to him. She could tell he was a bit reluctant to hear what she had to say, what she thought might help him in the long run, but they would both have to work on some things if they had any intention of this thing between them actually working. Herself included. "Don't freak out. I go to therapy too, it's not that big a deal. I mean, it can be uncomfortable and confronting, but that's the point of therapy."

Lemie's lips were parting, ready to rip this doctor a new one for even suggesting she leave the room, but Will was quick to assure him that she belonged in there with him. It was disturbing how much she wanted to grab him and kiss the shit out of him at this very moment. The doctor, however, failed to realize the importance of this moment and seemed dead set on getting her to leave the room. She looked at him defiantly, her eyes narrowing in his direction. "I'm his wife, so yes. We're family," she lied without missing a beat. Saying they were related would be too weird and she wasn't getting kicked out of this room on a technicality.

WILL:

Will thought about warning the doctor, not to push his luck with how contained she was being. But he should have known Lemie wouldn't have given up without a fight. Although when she said she was his wife, Will nearly choked with laughter but by some miracle, he managed to keep it together. The doctor looked back at Will, possibly hoping for him to say differently, but he said nothing and gave an affirmative half-smile. "The drugs in your system weren't enough for you to overdose," the doctor continued as though Lemie wasn't there. "But they did cause an arrhythmia, which mixed with your coronary artery disease diagnosis caused a mass heart attack. You've now been fitted with a pacemaker." This was not news, and it was easier to digest the second time hearing it.

"They'll be a fair amount of maintenance for it. Regular checkups every 3 to 6 months, no excessive alcohol usage, and no recreational drug usage, including marijuana." The emphasis on drug usage was very heavy but it was to be expected. Obviously, his history of drug use was well recorded in his files. "No keeping your cell phone or headphones in your shirt pocket if you have one," the doctor rattled on. All the information entered Will's brain but he wasn't convinced it was really sticking. "It's all in this pamphlet." The doctor went to hand it to him, but instead, Will just pointed Lemie with a smile. "You're better giving that straight to her, she'll make sure I follow it. Won't you, darling?"

LEMIE:

This doctor seemed not to like her too much and Lemie wished it was acceptable to tell him that the feeling was very mutual. She hadn't even considered what Will's reaction to her lie might be, but she would've been willing to bet he wouldn't blink an eye. He seemed to find all the crazy things she did endearing, which she wasn't about to question. "Is your job just to repeat everything the nice nurse told us an hour ago?" Lemie muttered under her breath as she glared at him, all her anger not redirected at him. He might hear her, he might not. Either way, she didn't care.

Lemie stood up and ripped the pamphlet out of his hand, immediately skimming it in the hopes of catching a mistake in the asshole doctor's patronizing lecture. It was only okay when she did it. "Yup, this is all me," she said immediately, closing the pamphlet a second after having opened it. "When can we have sex? Is that in the pamphlet too?" She tilted her head to the side, hoping her bluntness would make the man at least a little bit uncomfortable. "You should avoid strenuous activities for at least a month." He was directing his answer at Will and avoiding Lemie's gaze completely, which made her think she'd achieved her goal. The blonde sat back in her chair with a satisfied grin, scooting her chair closer to Will this time.

WILL:

It was fascinating to watch her seethe with rage, and this time, he was not directly the cause of it. They were technically here because of him, but still. This doctor's reaction to Lemie was not something Will was responsible for. He looked deeply uncomfortable, and Will almost wanted to say 'I told you so' but he settled for a look of sympathy towards the man. "Good to know. Mark that in the calendar." He tilted his head towards Lemie, who looked quite happy with herself, before looking back at the doctor and adding "—happy wife, happy life."

Not amused. "Call a nurse if you're having any trouble," he gave a side-eyed glance towards Lemie as he left the room. When they were alone again, Will's grin spread slightly as he looked at her. "Well, that was fun. We should do this more often," he joked, chuckling to himself softly and shutting his eyes, a huge wave of exhaustion washing over him.

LEMIE:

This was going to be a long stay at the hospital if they were forced to deal with that asshole. "Yes, I'm sure there's plenty we can do in the meantime. We're very creative," she said, lacing her fingers through Will's and attempting a loving smile in his direction. It probably looked more like a grimace, but maybe that would make the doctor even more uncomfortable. "We'll be counting down the days."

She had every intention of calling a nurse if it could avoid having to deal with him again, but she somehow managed to keep that to herself. The poor man looked miserable enough as it was. "I think he hates me. Do you think it was that comment about your brain cells? Can't he take a joke? See, those were some worse bedside manners than mine."

WILL:

Their fingers were still interlocked, Will decided not to move, just in case she noticed, and withdraw her touch from him. He lay with his eyes closed, leaning back against the pillow, still slightly upright. "I think it was the red hot lasers that nearly came out of your eyes when he asked if you were family that really did it. I feared for his life." Personally, the comment about his brain cells wasn't all that bad compared to the things she probably wanted to say about him.

If there was a way for that doctor to not see them again, Will was sure he'd find a way too. He looked so uncomfortable as he left. "He's probably telling everyone about the crazy woman who wants to shag her husband after he's just had heart surgery." It was particularly unhinged how she'd gone about it all, but Will found it amusing, as always.

LEMIE:

Holding his hand felt almost like second nature, despite not even being much of a hand-holder. They had done this late at night every time they had hung out in the garden or in her bedroom. It was so familiar that she forgot that pissed off people didn't hold the hand of the people they were pissed at. "He was trying to get rid of me, of course I was annoyed," she told him with a roll of her eyes. "He was right to fear for his life. Let's just be glad he didn't try to kick me out because that would've been bad."

"Don't go thinking I was serious about that. It was all part of my evil master plan to get rid of him," she felt the need to say, not wanting him to think everything was forgiven just yet. Not that she wasn't actually kind of thinking about having sex with him. It was hard not thinking about it when he was around. "And he shouldn't judge our fake marriage. Maybe he's just jealous his sex life with his partner isn't as active."

WILL:

"Bad for who?" He quirked an eyebrow, opening his right eye slightly to look at her. "I know who I'd bet on in a match against him and you. Lucky for him, he learnt what I did pretty quickly. There's no use in fighting." It was better to just accept your fate sometimes.

Will shut his eyes once more, enjoying the comfort of her skin on his. His thumb drew lazy soothing circles against her hand. "I know," he replied, surprisingly chipper for a man who had essentially just been pied off. It was hard to be upset about anything with the amount of morphine pumping through him. Plus, he wasn't exactly feeling like he was in his sexual prime. "Was he judging? Or was he just really hoping the ground would swallow him whole so he didn't have to hear about how creative we can be?" His lip twitched, a smirk wanting to rest on his lips.

"About the therapy thing," he returned back to their conversation before the doctor interrupted them. "I'll go." He wasn't interested in ending up in here again, or losing her so he'd do what it took.

LEMIE:

"For him, obviously. I think he knew that too. I'm sure he's kicked people out before, but… Here I still am." If there was anything Lemie was good at apart from anger, it was holding a grudge. She would've found creative ways to make his life a living hell. There was always the possibility that he might walk back in with security, but she had a feeling she was out of the woods for now. "You learned that, huh? Was that before or after the fight we had in your office?" It was probably too soon to joke about that, but did it matter when she was sitting right there next to him?

Maybe it was the way his thumb was stroking the back of her hand or the hope that things might just turn out okay between them, but Lemie allowed herself to scoot the chair even closer to the bed, to him. It was only fair that she got to put her anger on pause after he had almost died. "I was absolutely planning on going into details, so it's a good thing he walked away when he did. It was about to get way worse."

She could tell he was getting tired, exhaustion written all over his face. She nodded, momentarily letting go of his hand so she could rest her head on the free space on the bed, her arms folded under her. "Thank you."

WILL:

The fact she could joke about their fight, mixed with her letting him hold her hand, he tried not to get his hopes up too high that everyone would be alright. There was still every chance he’d say or do something too stupid to forgive. But all he could do is try. “After,” he was steadfast in his answer. “If I didn’t fight with you, I wouldn’t have ended up in here with a bionic heart.” Not to say that she was to blame at all. “I just like learning lessons the hard way.”

She scooched her chair closer to him, the nearness helping him relax more into the bed. The weight on his chest was still there, a desperate ache. “You did me a mercy,” he chuckled. “I’m not sure I would have lived through that.” Having her close without kissing her was already torture, he didn’t need her listing all the various things they could still do to each other.

The absence of her hand in his, he opened his eyes slowly to see, just in case she’d gone. But she was still here so he felt at ease once again. “No,” he waved her thanks away, it wasn’t needed and he didn’t deserve it. “Thank you for being here.”

LEMIE:

Lemie rolled her eyes, finding it hard to argue with him when he was stuck with said bionic heart. Who knew how long the other one would've lasted--fight, breakup and drugs aside. It could've been a lot worse. It could've happened while she was sleeping in the next room, while he was at work in his office. So many scenarios where he might not have been found in time. At least now they knew, now he was taking it seriously. "Yeah, well, that was the last time you're doing it your way. From now on, we're taking the easy route," she told him, including herself in that statement. They both had to be better if they wanted this to work sometime down the line.

"I figured. You're very easily riled up," she said with a chuckle, leaning forward against the bed. If the doctor did come back and walked in on this, he might actually buy that they were married. She allowed herself a moment of vulnerability as she grabbed the hand she had just been holding and brought it to her cheek. "You scared me, you know. For a second, in that waiting room, I thought you might not make it, and everything that happened just felt so… stupid. Pointless."

WILL:

Somehow, even when Will was looking for the easy way out, it turned out to the be the hard way. Maybe that’s what happens when you’ve never had anyone display healthy coping mechanisms before. His father chose violence, his mother chose silence. His sister was passive aggressive to the point of bitter resentment. Will was a bizarre mixture of all three with a tendency for the self destructive. But maybe together, Lemie and Will, they could finally find the easy way to deal with things. With some help.

Lemie rested her cheek in his hand, the hot flush of her cheek contrasted the coolness of his fingers which lacked the usual circulation since his heart had given out. He would have died with regret, he thought as he lightly caressed her cheek. Up until recently, Will had convinced himself that he wouldn’t apologise for how he’d lived his life, for better or for worse. But on that bathroom floor, pain and regret were all he had felt. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, unsure that it truly encompassed everything he wanted to apologize for. “You deserve a lot better than this.”

LEMIE:

Lemie was scared to let him in again. Scared he would go right back to being a closed book, scared he might relapse, scared his robot heart would give out. She was scared of getting hurt before and it was somehow amplified tenfold now. As much as she wanted this to work out, she knew they couldn't just jump right back into it. They had a lot of work to do before they were in a place to try dating again. She just had to remind herself of that. Multiple times a day, most likely.

His fingers were cold against her skin, so she put her own hand over his to warm them up a little bit. She figured it had to do with circulation or some medical shit, but it didn't make it any less disturbing. "I'm not saying that because I want an apology, I'm saying that because you need to know that it was terrifying and I've never felt like that before and I never want to feel again. Emphasis on the last part," she insisted, wanting him to really hear her. "So, next time a shitty, reckless idea crosses your mind, please keep that in mind. There are people that would miss you. I would miss you."

WILL:

This wasn’t the stupidest thing Will had done by far, nor the most destructive but considering how much it pained him to see Lemie this way, it sure felt like it. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever truly been in love before. Maybe there were inklings of it in the past, moments that passed that frightened him so hard that he snuffed it out as quick as he could. Leaving in the middle of the night, never to return. But the look on her face was so fragile for someone who’d built herself so strong. Will wouldn’t let himself hurt her like that again.

He was unsure of what to say. How to assure that it wouldn’t happen again without a vague promise that he wouldn’t, it didn’t seem like it was enough. “I understand,” he gave a small nod, his face about as serious as it could get without looking pained. Will didn’t want it to seem like he was only getting better for her. He’d seen firsthand that if you hinged all your happiness onto a person, you’re doomed to fall eventually. But she did give him something to live for. “I missed you a lot. I thought about calling you, but I didn’t think you’d pick up.” She’d been so angry with him, he wasn’t sure how they’d manage seeing each other at work. It had plagued him for the nights that she wasn’t lying beside him. Many messages were drafted but never sent, Will hoped that they weren’t still sitting on his phone when the doctors were looking for a person to contact.

LEMIE:

Only time would tell if he had taken her words seriously if he'd really grasped the magnitude of her feelings towards him. It was just like her fall for someone who had this much baggage. It made sense that two broken people would gravitate towards one another, she supposed, but it also made everything more dramatic and fragile. "Okay," she said simply, choosing to believe him. She hadn't realized that her eyes had filled with water until her vision turned blurry and she quickly wiped at them before any tears could escape.

"I'm kind of ashamed to say it now, but I wouldn't have picked up. I really couldn't see past my own anger. It's an issue," she said honestly with a defeated shrug. Lemie felt the need to quickly deflect from the seriousness of the conversation. "Don't be dramatic, William. You barely had time to miss me. You avoided a few days of me yelling at you. It was like a little vacation. Where you almost died." Not much of a vacation, if she were honest.

WILL:

He gave a final nod, knowing that this was the only time she’d sit idly by and cry at his bedside. There would be no third chance. The thought of it made him feel a bit panicked, but being scared to lose someone wasn’t the worst thing in the world. She rubbed at her face, hiding whatever emotion was there but he knew. Moving his tube riddled hand back to rest on the bed, he already missed her touch.

A small chuckle. “Well, then I saved myself the embarrassment of having to leave a voicemail. That would have been pretty embarrassing.” Especially if it was like any of the drivel that sat firmly in his Notes app. Heartfelt apologies weren’t his strong suit. He gave a scoff, as she deflected any tone of seriousness. Surprisingly it wasn’t him for once. “Vacation to the afterlife. I’ve heard it’s quite lovely there this time of year.” The rustle of his ugly hospital nightgown on the uncomfortable mattress would be a familiar sound, he already found it difficult but an extra dose of Morphine would help. “I should probably tell people I’m in here, huh? Might get someone to watch over the cottage. I’d ask you but you’ve signed yourself up for nurse duty. This is why people say to not date people you work with.”

LEMIE:

In her short life, Lemie had never cried over a boy or a girl who anyone she was in a romantic relationship with. Will was the first. She wouldn't say that to him right now because she had a feeling the knife had been twisted quite enough. He knew what he had done was bad and seeing her cry over it wouldn't help him feel better. She kept rubbing at her eyes until she was certain nothing would spill from them, but inadvertently ended up with red, irritated eyes. "This never happened," she said with a glare, the threat clear enough in her tone.

"I would've loved an embarrassing voicemail actually. Something to hold over your head when you're being annoying." The blonde groaned in annoyance when he joked about his death. It was only okay when she joked about the whole ordeal because he had caused said ordeal. "I'll send you right back if you keep the jokes up." She nodded when he mentioned other people, the words almost weird to her since she had not one fucking clue who else was in Will's life. That was part of their problem. "Do you want me to text anyone? I don't mind. As for the cottage, I think my sous-chef can take over my duties for a bit," she admitted reluctantly. The food might not be as good, but he was a hard worker. "Don't be presumptuous, who said we're dating?"

WILL:

He wanted to take her hands and stop her from rubbing at her face, tears over him were a waste. Will knew what he'd done and how it affected her. Maybe not to the full extent until now. "Already forgotten," he lied, a sad smile. This wasn't something he'd take lightly.

Well, if he was going to be completely open like he said he would be, might as well start now. "There's a few unsent messages in my Notes app if you want some light reading. Very cringe." He was quite drunk when he'd written them. A re-read in the morning had left him feeling particularly low. Will didn't even notice the slip up, he supposed they technically weren't dating. "Sorry, habit."

He let out a small groan at the thought of letting anyone else know, they'd fuss and bother. He preferred his current company, but it'd be worse if they didn't know. "Yeah. Should probably let Anna know," despite how much he didn't want to. His sister would be about as unforgiving as Lemie was to start. "Jude, Connie, Eileen. Astrid" he realised that these were mostly women's names. "Friends," he felt the need to clarify but he paused before speaking again. "Technically, Connie is my... uh, she's my ex-wife but it's not how you think." It was no more a marriage than his own parents was.

LEMIE:

Lemie nodded furiously, eyebrows pinched together as she tried to convert whatever sadness she felt into anger. At least there were no tears to be shed when she was pissed off. She was glad for his mention of unsent messages, a welcomed distraction, immediately reaching for his phone and handing it to him. "Unlock it. Now," she said, a little too eager to read shit he was obviously pretty embarrassed about.

"Look, I'm not saying we won't date ever again. That was harsh. I'm just saying we shouldn't necessarily jump right back into it. You've got a lot to deal with. New heart, relapse, recovery. I think that takes precedence on being able to call me your girlfriend," she said with a not-so-convincing shrug. "Maybe we can revisit in a month. Right around the time you can start strenuous activities again, which is convenient." A joke, to lighten the mood a little.

The sadness on her features was quickly replaced with annoyance as he started listing all the people he wanted her to contact. "Are they all women? I feel like this is a red flag," she said with a scowl, waiting for him to unlock his phone before creating a group text. He hadn't given her specific instructions, so she was doing this her way. The cold yet efficient way. "Ex-fucking-cuse me? Did you say wife?"

WILL:

He knew that it was a mistake for her to read the drunken fumblings of his brain, but there would be no more secrets. Every instinct he had to keep something to himself, it would be a challenge for himself to tell her. No matter what. He put in his passcode, noticing a few unanswered texts and a phone call in his notifications. Whoever it was would have to wait until he regained control of his phone, whenever that would be.

Will waved a hand nonchalantly, it would be a lie to say it didn't hurt but he only had himself to blame. "You don't need to justify it, I just forgot for a second." Maybe he could blame it on the morphine, not the fact that it felt so comfortable to have her near. How seamlessly they went together. But whether it was weeks, months, or years, he'd keep trying until she said she didn't want him anymore. "I'm starting to think you're just using me for sex."

"Jude is a man," he quipped, the rest were women but he'd only slept with one. Will couldn't help but wince at her reaction."Ex-wife. The ex part is important also." Of course, she fixated on the wife part, like he was somehow still married. "We were married for a like, a year when I was in my late twenties. My dad said it was time I settled down so he went out and made a business deal to get me a wife." They hadn't quite gotten to the part of getting to know each other where you talk about all your past relationships. "An arranged marriage."

LEMIE:

The fact that he put in his passcode without a hint of worry before handing her the phone like it was no big deal was more meaningful than he knew. It was just a phone, but it was also symbolic in a way. It meant he had nothing to hide anymore, that he trusted her. "Alright, let's see," she said as she went into his notes application to find the drafted texts there. She smiled as she found them, clearing her throat before she could start her dramatic reading. "Please come back, be angry at me where I can see you. I know we both said things we didn’t mean. But I need to see you and apologize." Her tone had changed slightly as she read the first text, her eyes moving to the second. "I was stupid to think you couldn’t see me for who I really am. You always have…," she read, her voice trailing off at the end as her eyes skimmed the next two. She couldn't read them out loud. These weren't embarrassing. They were practically declarations of love. "You should've sent these, asshole."

It wasn't about justifying, more like explaining where she was coming from. Making it clear she didn't want him to reopen his Tinder account and just work on this thing with her. It wasn't over, but it wasn't completely back on yet either. "I'm using you a little bit for sex," she said with a grin. "But I also enjoy the part after the sex. You're a good cuddler."

"I don't know if I believe that, but okay," she said with a roll of her eyes, pulling up all the names he had mentioned to create a group. "I can't believe you have an ex-wife in town. I can't believe I'm this hung up on a 40-year-old divorcé. What is my life?" She paused as she looked at the list and deleted the ex-wife's name, glancing up at Will to make sure he hadn't seen. "Arranged? What century did your father live in? So you didn't want to do it?"

WILL:

He busied himself with anything else as she prepared herself to read them, looking back up at the ceiling - an easy place for his eyes to rest. It was embarrassing and he could feel an additional tightness in his chest from what was already there. She began and he closed his eyes, actively tuning the words out so he didn't recoil - although they sounded a lot sweeter on her tongue. As she trailed off, Will turned his head to look at her before he spoke. "I didn't think you'd want to hear from me," he said honestly before adding, "whisky makes me melancholy." He was sure he did look like a sad sack, moping around the garden with a bottle tucked under his arm, typing on his phone like a twat. Quite the picture.

Too many years of practice on both accounts but good to know that it worked for her. "Was that a compliment?" He hadn't expected her to say anything that nice to him while he was still reeling from his dumb decisions. "I think my heart just skipped a beat." A stupid joke before he looked at her with a grin. "Kidding."

He chuckled at her realisation of who he was and how she felt about him. Still staring at the roof as she typed away, Will wasn't super proud of his behavior during his marriage, no matter how short it was. "No, I didn't want to." Connie was a lovely woman, perfect even. But at that time, Will wasn't looking to be settled down and she wasn't necessarily interested in him like that. Luckily they were still friendly. "But I had no choice. Connie was a lot stronger than me, stood up for us and we got a divorce. My dad never let me live that down."

LEMIE:

It was a good thing she had stopped because Will seemed to be considering death again for the second time in a few days. She didn't think there was anything to be embarrassed about. They were a little cheesy, sure, but not in a way that made her cringe. In a way that made her think he had realized quickly that he'd made a mistake and would've done anything to get her back. She had clearly underestimated how much he cared about her. What a fucking mistake on her part. "I didn't know this is what I would be getting, dumbass. This is like… sincere and romantic. It's the kind of shit you see in romantic comedies."

Lemie was about to admit that it was indeed a compliment when he had to go open his mouth. "Nope, moment over. You ruined it. I take my compliment back," she told him, as if she could actually take back something she had said that easily. With the joke he'd made, he fully deserved to unhear it, though.

"That's fucked up. Your father literally sold you." She faked a gag, truly repulsed by the things she was learning about Will's father. No wonder he had a bag full of issues and terrible stories. "And now I'm your pretend-wife. I'm sure your dad would roll over in his grave if he could see you with me."

WILL:

It had felt like he’d gone through nearly all five stages of grief when she had left. He’d gone through them all: denial, bargaining, anger.. those messages she’d read were part of the depression period of time. The final stage of acceptance wasn’t exactly the right word for him doing lines in a club bathroom though. “It’s not like I was going to text ‘u up’ at 3am.” Will didn’t consider himself a romantic, he was just drunk and feeling sorry for himself. A small shrug, feeling quite exposed under her gaze. “Saying the right words is easy, the actions part is where I tend to trip up.” Maybe it was a warning, mostly to himself but a little to her as well.

He let out a chuckle, knowing he was in trouble for that one. “Worth it,” Will murmured, a little too happy with himself.

Lemie’s comment hit him hard. Will hadn’t really thought of it that way, and it wasn’t like he was some nubile virgin and Connie wasn’t remotely machiavellian. It was like playing matchmaker with veiled threats if you didn’t follow through. “It wasn’t that bad and it’s not like I followed our marriage vows.” Like at all. Although he looked at it now and it was just another way for his father to control him, another way to make Will suffer. “Luckily, she’s a lovely person.” Connie could be a lot of things, forthright and stubborn mostly, but she was kind. “Pretend-wife, not-girlfriend, a live-in nurse. You wear many hats.”

LEMIE:

His words broke through the shock of reading those texts, a quiet chuckle escaping her lips. “I guess I was expecting more booty call and less… whatever this is,” she couldn’t even put a word to it, but it explained well what she had felt during their short time apart. The longing, the regret. Just because she had walked away didn’t mean she hadn’t felt just as terrible. “Is that a warning that I’m gonna catch you doing coke on your bedside table eventually?”

Will seemed to make up a lot of excuses for his father still, which Lemie got to some degree. Not everyone could completely cut out their parents the way she had. Most people couldn’t. “I beg to differ. It doesn’t matter if you got to step out or not, your father had no business using you to make deals. You’re a human being, not a pawn.” Her scowl deepened when he mentioned how ‘lovely” Connie was, immediately picturing someone that had the opposite personality she had. She kept her jealousy to herself, not wanting to show her cards or badmouth someone Will obviously loved. “Well, I’m a multifaceted person, William.”

WILL:

In the past, he had sent texts of that nature but that wasn’t what this was and it wasn’t what she deserved. And they both knew it. Obviously, she didn’t find it as cringey as he had in the light of day. Maybe they had seemed more pathetic when he thought that she’d never give him a second look. Or maybe his tolerance for feeling pathetic had lowered since nearly dying near a club toilet. “That’s not what I’m saying.” A moment of thought as he tried to construct exactly what he wanted to say. Thoughts floated past him but none seemed to fit right. “You’re right that there are things that I need to work on. And I won’t let you forgive me until I do.”

If only she knew how much of Will’s life was playing puppet. It made him feel a little ashamed that he just let it happen for so long. If Connie hadn’t stepped up where he couldn’t, they’d probably still be trapped in that marriage. If his father hadn’t cut him out of their company to spite him, Will would still be trying to prove himself there. “He didn’t want a son, he wanted a miniature version of himself.” Instead, he got Will who tried so hard and still could never live up to his father’s expectations. He really did need therapy. She was still holding his phone in her hands, although her attention was elsewhere. “Don’t I know it?” He gave her a half smile, hoping to distract her from whatever. “Are you sick of hearing me talk yet? I’m starting to hate the sound of my own voice. It can sound quite pompous. Have you noticed?”

LEMIE:

At least he was committed to making the changes necessary to make this work, to ensure nothing like what happened before could derail their relationship. “It’s not just you, you know. I’m going to work on my shit. I think I was kind of looking for a reason to run away. I have this tendency of ruining things that are good to avoid losing them.” It was better to end something else than to have it ripped away from her. It was a defense mechanism, one she was fully aware of. “I wasn’t planning on forgiving you so easily, but… you’re on your way there. If we decide to try again, I want it to work. I’m not just trying to torture you. Well, maybe a little.”

She leaned in again, her fingers slipping through his. It was clear whatever had happened with his father was far from resolved. He carried a lot of it with him still and seemed to be torn between his loyalty to his father and his love for him.“From the few things you’ve told me about him, I can tell you that you’re nothing like him.” Her fingers stayed locked through his, his phone disregarded on the bed stand. “No, this is what I wanted from the very beginning. I have, however, noticed the pompous aspect of your voice. I think it might just be the accent.” She grinned, attempting to mimic said accent when she said that last sentence. She really was no actress.

WILL:

He was by no means healed, physically nor mentally. The longer this conversation went on, the more he just wanted to take a big ol’ nap but he was fighting the exhaustion. Knowing this conversation was important. “I didn’t give you much reason to stay,” he added. Will did have the ability to make her see sense on occasion, he had wondered in his sentimental moments if there was something he could have said to make her stay. But the stubborn part of himself wouldn’t let him. He gave a nod, glad that she wasn’t going to let his behavior slide now she’d unlocked a few bad childhood memories.

Will let out a scoff. “There was a time when I thought that was a bad thing.” He remembered looking up to his father. So trying, so powerful. Nothing touched him. Young William wanted that. There were parts of himself that were distinctly his fathers, probably his most undeniably vile traits. Her attempt at his accent ended up sounding a lot more cockney than expected, Americans were terrible at accents at the best of times. But hers was especially bad. It did cause a small laugh, which they said is the best medicine. “That was terrible, don’t quit your day job.”

LEMIE:

Lemie nodded slowly, taking in his words. It wasn’t his job to get on his knees and bed for her to stay, but he had let her go rather easily. At the time, she thought it meant he didn’t care, but now she could see he was also protecting himself. “That’s okay. I’m here now," she said, not because she forgave him but because she wanted him to stop apologizing and justifying himself. As much as they both might want to, there was no going back and changing how that night went. They had both agreed to work out some stuff on their own and eventually that would bleed into their relationship.

"I can assure you it's not. I, for one, would've had zero interest in your father. From the sound of it, he had no redeeming quality and you happen to have a lot, which says a lot about you as a person," she insisted, wishing he could see what she saw in him. A man that had been strong enough to live through abuse and come out on the other side a kind, decent person. It would've been so easy for him to fall into his father's expectations of him and turn out just like him, if not worse. He didn't and that was a testament to his strength. "You don't like my accent? I think it's rather good," she said, still in her shitty British accent.

WILL:

His hand squeezed hers, not much strength behind it but it was almost like he was confirming what she had said. She was here. And he was thankful.

There was no point in fighting her on it. He wasn’t quite sure what anything said about him right now, other than he was too grown up to act so reckless. His body had paid the price for what his mind refused to think about and his heart refused to feel. 40 years was a long time to live under someone’s shadow and there were times when he could have sworn his father was proud. Those were some of his darkest. If he had looked in the mirror during those times, Will wouldn’t have recognized himself. “There you go, complimenting me again.” This time he managed to not make a heart joke. Her strange accent continued as she spoke, his grin staying firmly in place. “I can’t tell who you’re trying to be right now. The Queen of England or Mrs. Doubtfire? Neither is good or what I sound like.”

LEMIE:

He was quickly fading, that much was obvious by the way his hand gave hers the softest squeeze known to man. It was a miracle he managed to stay awake this long in all honesty, so she couldn't blame him. The drugs he was on were strong and he did just go through major surgery. "Yes, yes, I gave you a compliment. If you keep pointing it out every single time, I'll just stop giving them," she warned him, using her free hand to pull the blanket up a little bit.

"My accent is perfect and I think you don't know what you sound like," she told him with a grin. She sounded nothing like him and it was probably for the best. There was nothing sexy about the accent she was attempting and his was very sexy. "You should probably get some sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."

WILL:

His smile deepened. “Alright, I’ll just keep a mental tally instead-” he countered, watching as she fussed over his blanket. It was comforting to have her here with him. The familiar buzz of more morphine releasing into his system from the IV bag attached to his hand flowed through the room. It gave him a warm tingly feeling throughout his body, the addict in him enjoying the sensation a bit too much. Like it had been satisfied by his impromptu trip to the hospital mid-relapse.

“Well, now I’m concerned for your hearing” he quipped. The mention of him sleeping reminding him of just how exhausted he was, despite trying to fight it. “You should go home, rest yourself.” Another small squeeze of her hand. As much as Will did want her to be here when he woke up, Lemie needed to take care of herself too.

LEMIE:

"Yeah, you do that, dork," she said quietly, the insult sounding more like a term of endearment in this particular instance. She watched his face as the drugs kicked it, making it obvious he would pass out any second now. "I'll just take a shower while your sleeping and have a nap in my trusty chair. I'm fine, I'm not the one who had a heart attack and major surgery in the last forty-eight hours." She didn't let go of his hand just yet, choosing to wait until he fell asleep to do so. "Don't worry about me, I can take care of myself. Been doing it a long time."

#t: will #tw drug addiction #tw medical condition #tw hospital #tw heart attack #tw parental abuse

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