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Over their short time together, Felicity has been picking up a good handful of details about William. She knows he doesn’t like sweet stuff (surprising) or mornings (less surprising). She knows he’s a big reader and likes watching National Geographic more than any other kid she's met.
She also knows that at the end of the school day, William exits the building exactly five minutes after the bell and climbs into her car with a smile and a story from his day.
Except, apparently, today.
When the initial crowd of kids thins out, sans William, Felicity puts her car in park. At ten minutes, she pulls out her phone to respond to a few emails about Smoak Tech.
It’s only until twenty minutes later – when she was just about to pull her keys out and look for him in the school herself – does she notice him walking up to the car, his thick gray hoodie up and his head hanging low.
“Sorry if I made you wait.” He mumbles when he settles into his seat.
She stares at him for a moment. Something seems off. She tries to keep her voice light anyway. “Hey, Will. What’s with the sweater? It’s like 80 degrees out today.” She reverses out of her spot casually, watching him from the corner of her eye.
He shrugs. “Just felt like it.”
Weird.
“Okay… how was school?”
“Fine.”
She hesitates. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” he looks out the window. “I’m just tired.”
He’s uncharacteristically quiet, and Felicity briefly wonders if this is just the pre-adolescent angst others had warned her about.
She drops it for the rest of the car ride home, letting him sit in his own thoughts. It’s only when they enter the loft that she speaks up.
“Okay, we’re inside now, you don’t need to wear that anymore.”
“Felicity –“
“Will, what is going on? Why are you acting like you’re hiding something?” a handful of scenarios flash through her mind, most bordering on ridiculous (there’s no way he dyed his hair at school, right?).
“I’m not hiding anything.” He tries to move around her to go up the stairs, but she’s nothing if not persistent.
“You clearly are,” she argues. “Will come on –“
“Felicity I said I don’t want to talk about it –“ he argues, trying to push past her once more, but the hand that tries to stop him ends up dropping his hood back.
The sight underneath makes Felicity feel sick in a way she’s entirely unfamiliar with.
The skin around the corner of his eye is red and swollen, the smallest cut above his eyebrow and she can see the outline of a bruise developing.
Her hand drops to the side. “Who did this to you?” Her voice is low. Dangerous. Will knows better than to try and get away now.
“It was nothing. I just hit the door on my way out.”
If her jaw wasn’t suddenly locked tight, she would have laughed.
“You… hit the door.” She repeats flatly.
“Yeah.”
Bullshit.
She knows the look on his face right now. She’s worn it before in her own childhood.
In the fourth grade, this asshole named Martin Anderson broke her glasses, for no other reason other than because he could. She had to lie to her mom and say she fell in P.E., knowing Donna Smoak would want to kick up a storm (something she can sympathize with right now), but that time would be better spent working. The next pair of glasses put a strain on their already stretched expenses and didn’t come until a few months later.
Back then, she endured a little bit of time not being able to fully see. Right now? She can’t see much either, but her vision is really clouded by the whitest hot rage she’s ever felt.
“I want to know who did this.” She says tightly. “I want to know why you’re lying to me now. I want to know why nobody in the administration at the school we pay a lot of money for is saying anything about this –“ she reaches out to cup his face, but he moves back.
“Look, I’m sorry I lied –“
“Oh no,” Felicity laughs without a single trace of humor. “Sorry is what the little punk who did this to you is going to be once I’m through with him.”
“Felicity please,” William looks up with those damn big brown eyes of his. “I don’t want to make this a big deal.”
“It is absolutely a big deal,” she crosses her arms, “and you can tell me now or we can wait until your dad gets home and see what he has to say about it.”
Will’s eyes widen. “No, Felicity, you don’t understand.”
“Then help me! Because from where I’m standing, it looks like someone’s hurting you and thinks they can get away with it. When Oliver gets home we’re –“
“It’s him!” he finally bursts out, the two words echoing through the entryway.
It makes Felicity freeze. “… What?”
“Everyone knows.” The words start tumbling out. “They all know. I’m just the kid Oliver Queen never knew he had or really wanted. Everything about my life is public now. They know the reason I’m here, what happened to my mom, everything. They know all about dad’s life, they know and they always use it against me.” He runs out of breath by the end of his speech, his face turning red as he stops and looks away in shame.
Felicity is speechless.
The publicity of being in Oliver’s orbit is something she managed to adjust to pretty easily a few years ago, and it was remiss of her to think William would be the same.
William takes a breath and composes himself some. “I can usually handle it,” he continues, “but today, after school, they said something and I—“ he shrugs, looking down. “I got mad. I punched one of them.”
Felicity’s eyebrows shoot up. In all the ways she imagined this story ending, this was not one of them.
“So… you hit him?” she almost wonders if this is a ‘you should see the other guy’ scenario, but pushes that thought aside. “What did he say?”
Will shifts from one foot to another. “It doesn’t matter.”
“If it has you risking suspension and your own skin? I’d say it does. Come on, you can tell me.”
“It …. It was about you.” He mumbles the words, shooting them out so quick anyone else would have missed it.
She freezes. Again, its not the answer she’s expecting, and fills her with apprehension as he continues.
“These guys were just going on about you…” his voice drops to a mumble. “the company… and how you got it. Things their parents said, I guess. And I just didn’t like hearing them talk about you that way.” He looks up, no trace of apology in his eyes now. “I would do it again.”
Felicity is floored. She has to fight the tears that creep into her eyes without consent. She isn’t sure if she should hug William or tell him he’s exactly like his father or reprimand him for using violence as an answer (the latter is probably best, but would be pretty hypocritical, all things considered)
She isn’t given much time to think about it, because at the end of his sentence the front door swings open, reminding her that she and Will still hadn’t moved from the entryway.
“Hey guys,” Oliver walks in with a bright smile, reaching out to give Felicity a chaste kiss on the cheek. “I got out of the office earlier today so I was thinking –“ he freezes and his smile disappears. “Will, what the hell happened to your face?”
Felicity lets the smile she was fighting break free as she moves to place an arm around the younger Queen’s shoulders.
“Oh, don’t worry. He was just being a hero.” She rolls her eyes playfully. “Can’t imagine where he gets it from.”