Chapter Text
It’s been a shit Christmas.
If he’s being honest, Will would rather be suffering through fucking retail work today than sitting at home alone, with his wine and intrusive thoughts. (That's a lie actually, working in retail over the holidays was one of the worst experiences of his life.)
He knows that he has people around him, his mom called him earlier that day beaming and talking about good food and laughter and he had kinda wished he was there with her. Interacting with family is so exhausting though, and it’d be hard explaining to a bunch of old people, no matter how supportive, that aside from starting a band, he plays Minecraft and talks to people on the internet for a living, and his best friend is fucking 17 years old.
Even with people, he’s closest to, in and off camera, he just couldn’t spend today with. Phil, one of the kindest men he knows, and a father figure in his life despite being only 8 years older, had even invited him over for Christmas dinner after seeing his chat message about being “drunk and alone on Christmas”, but he couldn’t do that to him and Kristen. He would just feel like an outsider and a party crasher who was unwanted and shouldn't be there.
The guilt overwhelms him, so he plays it off as a bit and pushes down his hurt for a little while.
The thing he feels the worst about, he thinks, is feeling like shit. Why does he even deserve to feel bad with his pitiful loneliness when he’s warm and has a safe place away from the cold? He has a support system and he's doing what he loves. So why is he allowed to sit there and wallow in fucking self-pity when there are so many less fortunate people? His problems are completely fucking insignificant. Why should getting out of bed to do menial tasks be so hard for him when he at least has a bed to get out of? He has food and people (who haven't even spoken to him today for that matter, but he pushes that thought down, he isn’t important and they have their own lives) and is lying there in his day-old clothes and greasy hair when he has the privilege to shower and wash up.
Only motivated by utter disgust for himself, he stands up to get a glass of water.
Bad move.
Very very bad move.
After sitting and lying down for so long without properly hydrating or eating food, abruptly standing up sends all the blood from his head rushing down, and his vision blanks out for a second, accompanied by a splitting pain in his head.
This is a common occurrence, but losing his sight still sends him into a panic sometimes. There's something so terrifying about the prospect that one day he’ll lose it forever, and never leave the darkness.
Grabbing onto the doorframe he waits till his vision clears, then forces himself over to the bathroom.