Archive of Our Own ^beta

Getting to wherever he's going, it's like moving through molasses. Will isn’t even sure when it started. He’s so used to pushing through that desire to hide away, to go back to bed, to bury himself in blankets and silence and isolation, that he can’t pinpoint exactly when it got to this point. All he knows is breathing’s become hard, let alone the rest of it.

He knows he’s needed with a patient right now, not because he really remembers being told, or having the conscious thought to do so, but because he has their test results in his hand.

He knows he should walk back out there but instead, he sits down, casting the tablet aside as he takes a deep, measured breath. He tells himself he’ll sit for just a minute, regain his bearings, push away the exhaustion seeping into his bones and go do his job, but in reality, he knows he’d all but lost that battle when he gave in and sat down.

Will jumps when Connor’s face comes into view, blinking furiously as he pulls back.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Connor says gently, raising his hands in surrender until Will relaxes again. “You didn’t hear me talking to you?”

Will frowns, trying to think, but the truth is he’s struggling to remember waking up that morning, or going to sleep the night before, or the night before that, or the night before that, or—

“Will? You okay?”

He realises he’s breathing too hard, too fast, and he takes a slow, deep breath, whimpering as he lets it out.

“Uh,” Will clears his throat, rubbing at his eyes with the palms of his hands as he feels the sting of fresh tears. “What did you wanna talk about, sorry?”

“I was wondering why you were sitting alone in a private waiting room staring at a wall,” Connor says quietly, brow creasing with concern. “Maggie’s been looking for you.”

“Shit,” Will whispers, swallowing against the rising lump in his throat, but he doesn’t make an effort to move despite the sense of urgency rising up inside him.

He feels almost paralysed, like even if he really tried to move, he’d be stuck in this chair forever, and somehow that thought both panics and soothes him at once. The threat of tears is still imminent, and he sniffles involuntarily, trying desperately to keep them at bay.

“Talk to me,” Connor whispers, reaching out to cup Will’s cheek. “Did something happen?”

Will shakes his head with a wet laugh, pulling away from Connor’s touch. “No. No I- I’m fine.”

For a moment, Will thinks Connor’s going to press the issue, but he doesn’t. He never does. That’s probably what Will loves about him the most. He asks, he lets Will know he’s there, but he never judges, never pushes. He just lets Will work things out on his own terms, in his own time, and accepts the fact that he may never know. He’s not sure that’s exactly healthy, and it’s not that he wants to hide from Connor, it’s just that the hardest part is putting anything into words. Feelings don’t translate that way for Will, they never have, and he’s so grateful to have found someone who doesn’t expect him to perform miracles.

“Okay,” Connor eventually says, standing up and holding out his hand. “Come on. Let’s go back to the ED.”

The tightness in Will’s throat grows as he stares at Connor’s outstretched hand. He wants to take it, really, he does, but only for the comfort. Only because it’s Connor and he doesn’t want to let him down. The reality of what’s waiting for him in the ED, all those patients with demands, things he can’t fix, people he can’t save, orders being barked, colleagues to work with, it all feels too much. It’s not as though that’s any kind of revelation. It’s all felt like too much for far too long, and for the most part, he’s managed to push through. He gets up in the morning even though it takes longer than usual, he brushes his teeth even though it feels pointless, he showers and dresses to look human, because he knows he must. He eats when he remembers to, which is regularly enough, almost like clockwork, thanks to scheduled breaks and Connor’s insistence. He does it all, even though it feels mechanical, even though he’d rather not, because he knows it's what's expected of him.

Maybe he’s reached a breaking point, or maybe there’s something else going on. Maybe something did happen and he can’t remember. All he knows is he can’t move, and he doesn’t even want to try.

“Maggie’s gonna—“

“I can’t,” Will whispers, voice shaking as his vision blurs over with tears.

He presses the palms of his hands into his eyes firmly, though he knows he can’t actually push the tears back in. It’s started and he knows he can’t stop it now. This happens, too, from time to time, tears he can’t control, tears he doesn’t really understand. It’s just never happened in front of someone else before.

“Hey,” Connor soothes, crouching down in front of him again, gently taking hold of his wrists to pull his hands away from his face. “Talk to me. Please.”

“I don’t know,” Will admits, swallowing down a sob that hitches his breath. “I don’t- I just can’t.”

“Okay,” Connor says with a small nod, gently rubbing his thumbs across Will’s hands. “That’s okay. We can just sit here for a bit.”

Somehow, Connor’s kindness, his patient understanding, has Will crying in earnest, and despite how embarrassed he is, he doesn’t resist when Connor pulls him into a hug, fingers threading into the back of his hair. He just presses his face into Connor’s shoulder, gripping back with everything he has as his body heaves with sobs.

Eventually the sobs die down, and Will’s left struggling to catch his breath, refusing to let go of Connor even when Connor’s own grip loosens a little.

“Will,” he prompts gently, and Will reluctantly pulls back, swiping at his face.

Connor offers him a sad smile as he cups his cheek, thumb swiping through the wet mess left behind.

“Can you tell me what happened, now?”

Will groans, pulling back from Connor’s touch to rub at his face. He feels exhausted, far more exhausted than he had before, which he hadn’t thought was possible. All he wants to do is go home, but he knows that’s not an option. When he glances at the clock hanging on the wall, he feels a flood of guilt in realising he’s been here for over two hours now.

“Nothing happened,” Will says with a small sigh, not meeting Connor’s eyes. “I just can’t...it got too much. I didn’t mean to sit down for so long, I just feel…”

Empty is how he feels, but saying so seems a little dramatic, and he can already see the worry in Connor’s eyes, in the creases of his brow, in the downturn of his lips. He doesn’t want to add to that any more than he already has.

“Tell me how to make it better.”

That takes Will by surprise, because it almost feels as though Connor gets it. He’s not asking for an explanation, for details, for Will to better express himself. He’s simply asking how he can help, what he can do to ease whatever Will’s going through, and he ducks his head as tears fill his eyes again.

“You make it better by being here,” Will whispers, reaching for Connor’s hand.

And it’s true. Even on his worst days, Will smiles for Connor. Even when the thought of looking another person in the eye has his skin crawling, he can, at the very least, listen to Connor speak and draw comfort from the sound of his voice. Connor makes him laugh in earnest. He chases away some of the darkness, and even though it’s always temporary, it’s everything. Truth be told, Connor is the best thing in Will’s life, and he wishes he could express that better than he does.

“We have just under two hours left of our shifts,” Connor says quietly, pulling Will from his thoughts with a gentle squeeze of his hands. “We get through that one step at a time, yeah? Then we’ll go to yours and we’ll order your favourite rice paper rolls and we’ll watch Fast and Furious until we fall asleep. Deal?”

“But you hate Fast and Furious,” Will says with a small laugh.

“But you don’t.”

Will smiles, small and genuine, as a spark of warmth chases away some of the darkness that had made it impossible to think, let alone move, and when Connor stands, this time, Will stands with him. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, soft but genuine, and though the concern hasn’t left Connor’s eyes, which likely means they’ll have to talk about this again, Connor smiles at him, giving his hand a squeeze.

He keeps a firm hold of Connor’s hand the whole way to the bathroom to wash his face, and then the whole way back to the ED, and even after they’ve gone their separate ways, gone to separate patients, Will’s able to cling to that bit of strength Connor gave him to get through the remainder of his shift.