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There’s an exhaustion that comes after being deliriously happy. Granted, it can also happen when you go through a physically and an emotionally straining day, where you start dying for a second time, get magically forced into playing for an evil ghost magician, and then go on to play the greatest gig you’ve ever done, before finally getting saved from near second-death by the power of love and one badass girl, which of course also causes delirious happiness, but that’s besides the point.
That night after the Orpheum, the boys were exhausted. They were exhausted and that was why Alex didn’t get the chance to even try to check on Willie, and that was why they didn’t wake up until noon the next day, and that was the reason Julie and the boys tried to use to convince Alex it wasn’t his fault, when Willie didn’t show up that day, that week, the rest of that month. When they searched for weeks and couldn’t find him.
When they tore the city apart looking for him.
They were exhausted, they reasoned, it wasn’t his fault.
They were exhausted.
Willie didn’t like the dark room. Of course, there wasn’t much to compare it to, but as a general thing he didn’t really like it. It was a little too close, a little too easy to re-live (re-die?) that moment on the road, headlights blinding and brakes screeching and-
Anyways. Willie might not have been able to remember exactly how he got there, or why he felt ages older than the moment he died, but the dark room was not his idea of an ideal place to stay.
He groaned and lay flat on his back, arms and legs sprawled out, skateboard at his feet, and stared into the inkiness.
The room wasn’t that bad. It was dark, yeah, and the air felt thick, and sometimes Willie felt like his heart was beating so loud that it sounded like someone pounding at the walls, but it wasn’t the room that made him tense, made him feel like his lungs were filling with smog, caused his heart to beat so fast and loud.
It wasn’t the room, it was the way it was too easy to remember, and yet, also too easy to feel like he was missing something. An important thing, right outside of his reach, always one shadow away in the dark room that was too small for his body and too big for his imagination.
It was never the room that did it. It was the fact that he was trapped with his own thoughts and no way out.
He closed his eyes again.
“C’mon man, you can’t just blame yourself for this! For all we know Willie is fine, or Caleb was planning something all along!! Please Alex, there’s no way you can blame yourself about this dude. It’s not your fault.”
Alex shook his head and turned away, scoffing beneath his breath like it might help him ignore the ever-rising panic in his chest or the lump in his throat. He appreciated Luke trying to help him out but... Alex had always been good at guilt.
He dragged a hand over his face, other hand clutching at the strap of his fanny pack like a lifeline, glad the white-knuckle grip betraying his anxiety was hidden from his friends. He didn’t need to be worrying them.
“Look,” he tried, turning back to face the concerned faces of Luke and Reggie, “I know, okay? I know it’s not really my fault, but it still feels like it is. If I never met Willie, we wouldn’t have met Caleb and gotten branded with his stupid seal, and if we hadn’t gotten branded then Willie wouldn’t have tried to help and Caleb wouldn’t have gotten him in trouble, or whatever he’s done to him.
“So yeah, I get that it’s not my fault, but it still IS, okay?”
Alex just... he wanted to scream out his frustration. Wanted to scream until the anxious beating in his heart steadied out and he stopped being so tense. He wanted Willie back. Alex clenched his jaw as he felt his eyes begin to sting and swallowed hard.
“I’m just... I’m gonna go out for a bit, clear my head. I’ll be back.”
Luke and Reggie both looked like they wanted to say something, but they knew him well enough to just nod.
“Stay safe ‘Lex.” Reggie said, and Alex gave a half-smile. That was Reggie; Always loving big and soft, even if he couldn’t help.
“Yeah, okay Reg.” He nodded, and then he was gone.
The museum was empty when he got there. Just like every other time he’d been searching and couldn’t find Willie. Just like every other time he was one breath away from a panic attack or a breakdown and he went there to scream, trying to imagine Willie grabbing his shirt and pulling him up, his hand over his own, his smile, his-
Empty.
Alex sighed and slumped down, back pressed again the cement pillar, and squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t keep on the edge like this, always a moment away from a panic attack, breathing enough to avoid most of them, but dancing around the outskirts of them, waiting for the moment he missed a step or tripped over his own feet and have it all come sweeping back.
He just wanted Willie back.
He scrubbed at his eyes with the palm of his hand and let his head fall backwards with a thump, not bothering to wince when it hit the cool cement. His tense energy slowly drooped away, leaving only the tightness and ache in his muscles. Alex didn’t even have the energy to cry.
There was a clatter and then he was jolting up, eyes flying open, heart pounding and hands out in front of him. What the- ?
“Well, shit. Wasn’t expecting that landing.”
And then Alex was striding forward and his hands were shaking and-
“Oh hey, I’m Willie! Do you uh, do you know what’s going on? The dark room was-” He stopped abruptly and smiled sheepishly, his brown eyes so warm and familiar, Alex wanted to cry again.
“I didn’t even let you get a word in edgewise, sorry. What’s your name?”
It was Willie. It was his Willie, except there was no recognition in his curious smile, and his hands weren’t reaching for Alex’s and Alex wanted more than anything to hug this stranger wearing Willie’s face.
“Willie...” His throat was dry and he cleared his throat. “I’m uh, I’m Alex.” He did an awkward little wave, like it wasn’t the boy he had fallen in love with who was in front of him, like they hadn’t held hands in this exact room, like they hadn’t even met before.
“Alex. Nice!” And it was Willie’s voice saying his name but it felt wrong, all wrong and suddenly Alex wished he was gone because dammit Alex really needed to scream in a museum again because this Willie wasn’t his, and for all Alex knew he was never getting him back.
“Yeah! Ha... You uh, you were wondering what’s going on? What exactly... what do you want to know?”
“Yeah man! It’s just weird because like, I was skating and then, well that happened-” Willie tapped on his helmet and Alex noticed a large crack in it, “and then there was that dark room, and then when I tried skateboarding again -seventh time, all the others ended with me on my ass- I ended up here. Which, don’t get me wrong! Is great!! I mean, you’re here and you’re-” He flushed and his voice died out as he gestured vaguely.
“I just don’t really know what’s going on, so... I guess anything? Like, I know I’m dead, but does that make you dead? And I can tell it’s been at least a day, because the sun is setting, and when I got hit it was already night, so there’s that. I don’t know, man, I’m just curious how this works.”
It was ironic, Alex decided. Bitter bitter irony.
Because there Willie was, chewing in his lip, his hands playing with his rings and his eyes so honest it hurt to look into them. It was just like when they had first met, except this time it was Alex answering Willie’s questions, and he was close enough to pull into a hug, a hug that Alex desperately wanted, but he couldn’t.
Because this wasn’t his Willie.
“Yeah, uh, no problem Willie. I can tell you what I know.”
His voice felt empty.
The days passed and Alex promised himself he would be fine. He promised because he had to be fine, otherwise he’d break and he didn’t know if he could come back from that.
Every time he saw Willie smile-
And he smiled so fucking often; At Reggie, at Luke, at Julie, and Alex. Willie smiled at Alex and it made him want to kiss him and fall apart at the same time.
There was no escaping it either. As soon as Alex realized that Willie had basically been reset to the time he died, he was done for. Of course he offered to let him stay with them, and of course Willie had accepted with that grin that made Alex’s heart squeeze in a vice of bittersweet.
When Alex came back to the garage, Willie smiling brightly by his side and offering Reggie and Luke a wave and quick introduction, the boys had managed not to accuse Willie of anything or ask questions that Willie wouldn’t have the answer to, and as soon as he had the chance he had pulled them aside and explained that Willie didn’t remember.
(And if his voice caught in his throat, and he tripped over Willie’s name... Well, they didn’t mention it. They understood.)
After that, the boys had quickly welcomed Willie in, teasing grins and answering any questions Willie might have about the afterlife (Alex did his best not to think about the fact that Willie had been the one to teach them all those things before). Willie... Willie fit like a puzzle piece in their little group, and Alex found himself wondering if this is what it would have been like if things had been different before.
Without Caleb’s club and control, without the seals and jolts.
Alex wondered if he was always destined to fall in love with Willie.
Even Julie loved him, once she met him. It was like watching two stars collide, when they met. Julie with her slight reservation, and then the welcoming fondness that poured out like a wave, and Willie, his warm voice and genuine heart.
It just hurt a little bit, because Alex didn’t know how to act around this Willie. It hurt because he’d never had to worry about himself around Willie before; He had simply been free to be himself, anxious gay mess and everything. Sarcastic and protective and free. And now every second around him felt like he was constantly checking himself, keeping him from asking Willie what went wrong, what happened, begging him to come back to Alex.
Begging him to tell him if he still meant those words that had shaken Alex’s whole world.
“I would do anything for you.”
Because if that Willie was gone, it meant those feelings were too.
Alex was fine. Really, he was.
It just hurt.
It had taken all of two seconds for Willie to decide that he liked Julie and the Phantoms a LOT better than the dark room. When he had tried skateboarding around one more time, he hadn’t expected to get out of the room, and especially not to land in front of a cute as fuck guy. But he had, and it was so much better than he ever could have imagined.
And then it turned out that not only was the guy cute, but he was sweet and awkward and kind, and Willie was falling head over heels faster than he had learned how to do a kickflip with that Mullen kid down the street.
He was completely and utterly gone on this anxious boy with a sad smile and a sharp tongue with the people he loved, and Willie found himself wanting to make him to smile more. More and more till it felt like the sun had found it’s place on the corners of his lips, and yeah, it was cheesy as hell, but Willie liked treating himself to the small things, and that included being cheesy when the time called for it.
And looking at the way Alex’s hair moved to hang in front of his face when he got into the music, the way his cheeks grew rosy and the way he’d stick his tongue out slightly when he focused... Yeah, the time definitely called for it most of the time.
In fact, between being head-over-heels for Alex, and the way his friends had immediately adopted him into their group, it was almost too easy to forget the dark room.
Almost.
The first nightmare happened a few weeks after meeting Julie for the first time, and Willie woke with a gasping breath and a racing heart. His skin was clammy and he laid stock-still for a few minutes, trying to even his rough breathing, trying to keep from crying out, even though he couldn’t even remember why he about to cry in the first place.
He slipped off of the couch he had begun to call home, and poofed into the Molina’s house, trying not to disturb the three boys tangled unceremoniously in the loft.
(They had been given their own places to sleep, but there was a certain gravity to them that always seemed to draw them back together, lost in the orbit of each other. Willie thought he was slowly being drawn in too, a wandering planet finding his home in their solar system, and normally he’d smile at the thought, but tonight he just looked at them for a long moment, a swirl of unidentifiable emotions churning in his chest. Guilt, regret, wistfulness, love, pain.)
“Julie?” He whispered against the doorframe, and clenched his jaw against the jab of guilt that nestled right beneath his ribs, the fading memory of his nightmare buzzing angrily, like a bee that had done its job and stung its victim, and was waiting to die.
“Julie, are you awake?”
The door opened and Julie’s concerned face peered out, “Willie? Did you remember somethi- I mean, ah! Are you... okay?”
Willie was too disturbed to notice her stumbling words, and he slumped into her waiting hug.
“I don’t know. I just... I had a nightmare and didn’t want to wake the boys, y’know?” Julie nodded and gave a sad smile, gently pulling him onto her bed.
“It’s okay, you wanna talk about it, or just need somebody to be with?” She held out her arms again and he gave a grateful, if a bit watery, smile before giving a shaky sigh and resting up against her. She began running her fingers through his hair and he almost closed his eyes to appreciate it.
That is, until he remembered the last time he closed his eyes.
“I don’t know yet.” A hum of understanding.
“When my mom died, I had nightmares.” Julie’s voice was soft, soft as the warm light of a streetlamp on midnight pavement, soft as summer air right at sunset. Willie breathed.
“At first I didn’t even realize why they scared me so much. It was just a simple scene-” She paused when her fingers caught in a small snarl and Julie was suddenly overwhelmingly grateful that she could touch the boys, including Willie, because of the casual comfort she could provide them, the small touches of reassurance she could give.
“It was me and my mom, in the studio. We must have been writing a song or something, and she was humming to me. And she would just hum; She never stopped. I would ask a question or suggest a lyric, and she’d just smile and hum, never stopping. A smile and a hum.”
Julie’s voice was barely a murmur now, and Willie let the silence settle around him like a weighted blanket.
“It took me a while to realize that the reason it terrified me was because I was afraid to forget her voice. Sometimes I still worry about that; That one day I’ll wake up and all that’s left will be her smile and her voice humming to me.
“Anyways,” She cleared her throat, “You don’t need to tell yours if you don’t want to, or can’t. But... I’m here, okay?”
Willie nodded and whispered out a quiet ‘thank you’.
Yeah, he liked Julie and the boys a lot better than the dark room.
“-just think that’s ridiculous! I bet that doing that would almost hurt as bad as dying via tainted hot dogs.”
Luke and Reggie were having a very heated discussion, and Willie, Julie, and Alex looked on fondly, sometimes giving a little bit of input.
“Hot dogs?” Willie raised an eyebrow and laughed, “That’s how you died?”
There were various grumbles from the wounded parties and a loud agreement from Julie.
“That’s what I was saying!!”
He laughed again and turned to make eye-contact with Alex, “You’ve been holding out on me Hot Dog!! I could have been using that as a nickname this whole-”
Alex’s face was stricken and Willie stopped abruptly. What did he say wrong?
“Sorry, I’ve got to- I just- I’m going out for a second.” And then Alex was clutching the strap of his fanny pack and poofing out. Luke looked uncomfortable and Julie was very pointedly not making eye-contact.
“Well!” Reggie said, seemingly oblivious to the drop in mood, “Who knew ‘Lex wasn’t a fan of food pet names, am I right?” Willie tried for a smile.
“Ha, yeah... I guess.”
Julie nudged him with her foot.
“Don’t worry. It’s not... it’s not your fault Willie. Alex is just... dealing with things right now.”
“Yeah... okay. Thanks Jules.”
The nightmare that came that night didn’t leave with the morning, and Willie was woken by a panicked Alex, his worried face inches above Willie’s own, his golden hair hanging into his eyes. Willie didn’t even think, he just grabbed Alex’s shirt and pulled him into a tight hug, like maybe that would fix the words echoing in his mind, like that would stop the haunting pain in his chest, heal the missing wound on his head.
“You didn’t have a choice-”
“I knew what he was capable of-”
Alex hugged him back.
“It’s just- it’s just a nightmare, I’m okay. I just- You were hurt and, and then you- and it was my fault-”
“Oh Willie...” Alex’s arms felt like home, felt like goodbye and forever and a welcome back and regret regret regret. “I’m safe. I’m okay and it wasn’t your fault. You did what you had to okay? It’s not your fault, I promise.”
Later Willie would wonder why Alex comforted him like that, those words filled with forgiveness for something that only happened in a dream -because that’s all it was right, a dream?- and that expression that made Willie’s heart twist in knots, but for that moment he just let Alex hold him.
Hold him like he wouldn’t have to let go.
“I’m so sorry Alex,” Willie mumbled into his shoulder, and it scared him that he didn’t know what he was apologizing for.
“It’s not your fault,” Alex promised, but his voice was full of a certain kind of grief, and Willie didn’t know if he quite believed that.
“It wasn’t ever your fault.”
It goes along like that for a few more weeks, and each nightmare bring Willie closer to the brink of something, he just can’t figure out what. It’s like every time he closes his eyes, an entire story plays out before him.
And every story, he’s the villain.
“That’s not good enough!” And Willie doesn’t like the pain in Alex’s eyes. Doesn’t like that he’s the one that put it there, but every dream the story stays the same. He messes up and he hurts Alex. He should have just left, he should have skated away. He should have-
“Well well well, William. I’d say I thought you knew better, but you always have been one for romance and all that nonsense. I guess it will be fun to see you try your hand at love when there’s no memories to work with and no one there to love you back.” His eyes are cold cold cold, and Willie never liked that dark room, and now he was going back and he would do the same thing all over again to help the boys but he REALLY didn’t like that room and now he was-
It’s sad, how Willie got used to being woken up by one member of the band or another, his jaw clenched and heart pounding, and it’s always their faces that leer at him from his dreams. He swallowed down guilt like orange juice for breakfast each time he looked them in the eyes.
All he was missing was the reason he felt so fucking guilty all the time.
The pavement is wet, and Willie likes the way the different coloured traffic lights reflect on it’s surface, likes the way the air is cool and muggy, and even though he’s sweaty he doesn’t mind, the breeze is cool against his face and puffing at his hair.
Nights like these make him feel like he can fly.
Willie doesn’t know what it is that keeps him up for hours after he gets in bed, but taking his skateboard out for a little bit normally helps, so that’s what he does. That’s what has him out tonight, his head exhausted but his mind going a mile a minute.
He pauses for a moment at an intersection and closes his eyes as he inhales the smell of the night. It’s so calm. He gives a half-smile to the sky and then glances across the street, already pushing himself forward on his skateboard. He stops short when he catches a glimpse of a piece of bright purple fabric and furrows his brow. What’s that from?
The world is getting lighter and Willie is more confused; It’s eleven at night, why is-?
He should have payed attention. He should have payed attention he should have payed attention he should have-
The world is upside-down and inside-out and the lights reflecting on the pavement might be pretty, but it smells like oil and it tastes like blood and everything feels piercing white and Willie doesn’t like that crunching noise, or the anguished whine, but he can’t tell where it’s coming from and he can’t tell whoever it is to stop stop STOP.
He’s trying to roll over -when did he get on the ground?- but when he tries the piercing white feels sickeningly like a streaky grey with too many pinpricks of light, and since he doesn’t like that feeling he stops.
The whine continues, and morphs into gasping and crying and for some reason Willie’s chest sounds gurgly, and his arms are twisted kinda funny and Willie can’t quite make out why he’s feeling in colours except for the fact that now he’s very much feeling an oil-spill black, and that feels like pain pain pain.
There’s a liquid in his mouth and when he coughs it out the gasping and groaning person makes the same noises, and when he stops, they stop. And then he tries coughing again but it hurts and he can’t quite open his eyes anymore, but now he knows it’s him crying and whimpering, and his lungs don’t feel right and he’s trying to see but something is staining everything red, and it’s not the traffic light anymore.
Willie cries out weakly, but his chest rattles again and the air is too thick, too thick to breathe in and too thick to see through and everything feels blood red-
“Willie, please wake up!” Willie stumbled off the couch, past the body shaking him awake, past the stand of instruments, past past past, and collapsed into the bathroom, dry-heaving and gagging with snotty-tears slipping down his face as he hacked and spit saliva and bile into the porcelain bowl, body trembling. When the heaving finally stopped, he slumped limply against the toilet, resting his forehead against the coolness it offered him.
“M’sorry,” he mumbled thickly to the person in the doorway. Sorry sorry sorry.
“It’s okay,” Alex whispered back, and then Willie was being pulled against Alex’s chest, was being held in arms that felt like a stranger’s home. They belonged to someone, but they just didn’t seem to belong to him.
“Man, dreams huh?” Willie’s joke was weak and he knew it, but he was tired and he was tired of the nightmares that seemed more like memories, and the nightmares that were memories, and he just- He didn’t want to deal with that right now.
“I’d give anything to trade my dreams for a good old scream session with you in that museum. That was just so much nicer.” Willie yawned, which triggered another gag, but he shook it off and then leaned back into Alex’s chest.
“You uh, remember that?”
What sort of question-?
“Uh, yeah man? Of course I do? That was the day that I...” He stopped. “But if that day was the first, then what...?” He pulled away from Alex so that he could turn and face him.
“Alex?”
Alex, who was anxious and kind, who he taught about being a- No, who taught him to be a ghost. Who taught...
“Lifers are what we call people who are still alive.”
Except Alex had told him that, one day while they were on a walk. But Willie taught Alex that, so that meant...
Willie groaned and clutched his head.
“- when there’s no memories to work with.”
no memories.
no memories.
no-
“Willie,” Alex’s face was as careful as his voice, and Willie tried to focus his whirling mind, “Willie, what do you know about a man named Caleb?”
Caleb.
Caleb taking Willie under his wing and showing him the ropes and how to be a ghost. He smiles sometimes and Willie doesn’t know whether to be proud or scared that he managed to make Caleb happy.
Caleb and Willie in the dark room and Willie’s shaking his hand and there’s a seal, and Willie promises he’ll listen better, he forgot, he didn’t mean to disobey. The dark room doesn’t care.
Caleb and he’s letting Willie skateboard again, and Willie couldn’t be more grateful. When he gets back, Caleb has another job for him, but Willie doesn’t mind. Willie can’t mind.
Caleb. But this time he’s telling Willie the boys don’t matter, telling him that he has to do what he has to do. Caleb, but this time he’s not taking Willie’s freedom; he’s hurting Willie’s friends.
Caleb.
“Alex?” Willie’s voice cracked, “Alex, how did you forgive me?”
And then Alex’s face crumpled into something between relief and sadness, and he pulled Willie into the tightest hug of his Afterlife.
“Because it was never your fault, because I still wanted to follow you, no matter where you went. Because I care for you. We'll figure this out, I promise.”
And yeah, he was rambling, but all Willie could think about was his own words, echoing out of Alex’s mouth. He thought about the way he meant it, and how Alex means it now, and it finally hit him.
He buried his face into Alex’s neck and held on as tight as he could.
“I love you too,” He murmured.
“I love you too.”