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William made a lot of playlists.
A playlist for doing chores, a playlist for when he wanted to cry, a playlist for falling asleep, a playlist for the characters in his favorite movies, a playlist for studying— if it existed, William probably had a playlist for it.
He had shared one with Dakota a long time ago, back when they had first joined Watch. It was one that he said was for “when you can’t tell if you wanna disassociate or just stuff your face with corn chips.” (A very specific mood, yes, but one that Dakota resonated with on the deepest level.) That was a long time ago, though, and Dakota had all but forgotten about it. It had been a long few months training in the woods; he stopped keeping track of the days after the first three weeks, so he couldn’t say for sure how long it had been.
Flopping onto his bed at Grandma Cole’s cabin, Dakota breathed a sigh of relief. His arms were sore, his legs were bruised, he was still bleeding a bit from his close encounter with a bear last week, but at least the day was over. He felt guilty doing anything but training, but the old woman whacked him upside the head and told him he was done for the day. He could never argue with that fucking stick.
That left him in his room, physically exhausted, but mind too awake to sleep. After some mental debate, he picked his phone up from the floor for the first time in days.
William had texted fourteen hours ago. Internally, Dakota winced and braced himself.
i know you wont respond, the message read in all lowercase, as William tended to write, but i just thought id say hey
Dakota scrolled up, remorseful at seeing dozens of the same messages over the months that had gone unanswered.
He wanted to talk with William, he really did, but every part of him still felt so bad about the way he left. No goodbye or saying when he’d be back, just a hastily written note left on the kitchen counter in the dead of night. It was easier, that way, to admit to his team that he wasn’t strong. That didn’t stop the shame, though, or the constant longing to be with his friends again.
He would talk to them in person. It’d be easier to explain everything that way, or, at least, that’s what he told himself. Until then, he could bide his time by nostalgically scrolling through all of his old text conversations that he had had with his ghostly friend.
He laughed at the way they bantered over stupid things happening at school, and that time when William had to text from inside his bed saying that he had gotten stuck and needed help. He scrolled endlessly, wanting to commit to memory how they talked to each other. Lately, he had started to worry that he’d forget.
That’s when he found it again, after sifting through nearly a year’s worth of texts, William’s fucking disassociation/corn chip playlist. He barked out another laugh as the memories came back, not at all worried about how it was the middle of the night. (It was only him and Grandma Cole around for miles, and she refused to wake up to nothing less than a hurricane ripping the cabin from its foundation.)
Curious, he opened the link, finding himself back at the music app that he hadn’t seen in months. The layout had not changed, but it must’ve had minor updates, because the font they used looked so slightly different. The songs were all the same ones he remembered, likely because William had forgotten this playlist too and abandoned it. He had that habit, one that Dakota still couldn’t comprehend. Dakota had a dozen or so playlists that he carefully curated and listened to constantly, while William created and forgot playlists faster than he could even listen to all of them.
He pressed shuffle, bringing up a quiet melody with some 8-bit undertones. William usually didn’t listen to anything that wasn’t electronic in some way, not that Dakota minded. Their music taste overlapped— well, for the most part. Sometimes the songs Will played in the car were a bit too intense for him, to the point where Dakota was left to wonder how such a quiet and calm kid could relax with something so loud and violent. Will would often cringe, too, when Dakota would put on the cheesy love songs that he held so dear, complaining about how sappy they all were.
He smiled at those memories. He had never realized just how often Will and him would listen to music together. It made his heart ache.
With mindless fingers, he found himself clicking on his friend’s profile, curious as to what sort of music he had been listening to recently. He snorted again as he read the number 583 playlists. Dakota knew that only a fourth of them made it past 30 minutes long, but it was a ridiculous number nonetheless.
His eyes wandered, and he noticed Will’s profile picture, a painting of a skull surrounded by electric blue roses. Dakota remembered it vaguely; Will had spent an afternoon with him once showing off all the pieces he had made in his old high school art class, and that was his favorite one that he did. Dakota looked a little longer, zooming in to admire the art, when he finally noticed the little green dot sat next to the picture on his screen.
William was listening to music right now.
It shouldn’t have shocked Dakota as much as it did— he knew that he listened to music constantly— but it made his breath stutter like he had just been hit in the chest. It felt like he was seeing his friend for the first time in ages. He felt…
Was he crossing a line? Something about this felt… intimate. Like he was invading Will’s privacy by looking without permission.
Even with that thought, though, Dakota couldn’t help himself. He was too curious and wanted to feel close to William in some sort of way again. In a flash, he tapped the icon, which brought up the playlist he was currently listening to. Its title was rather simple.
i miss you
Dakota blinked. He knew Will to be edgy, but what could this title mean? Was it for a fictional story? Was it just his way of falling asleep? He hoped Will was asleep by now; it was way too late for him to be up.
Scrolling down further, he was pleasantly surprised to find that a lot of this was his kind of music. His music — the sappy romance and bubbly pop songs that Will swore up and down he hated. In fact, all of these were songs that he loved. It was almost like—
He moved back up to the top of the page to find the date that it was created. February 17th. Two days after he left.
—like it was made for him.
The description, too, caught his interest when he noticed it.
i wish you were here so i could slap your stupid face. god, i fucking love you.
Dakota was convinced his heart had just stopped. That had to be the reason it was so hard to breathe right now, right? He scrolled down the hours-long list, recalling each memory that came with each piece of music.
“Will, you gotta hear this song! I heard it on the radio today, and I promise you’ll love it”
“Hey, don’t you diss the track, Whisperer. Just ‘cause it’s a cheesy pop song doesn’t mean I can’t like it!”
“You seriously never learned how to slow dance? Here, pass me your phone, I’ll teach you. Don’t you give me that face, Will! You’re gonna learn and you’re gonna like it!”
“Hey, Will. Uh, do you care if I hang out here for tonight? I’ve just been sort of upset all day, and— um, I found a new station if you wanna listen to it together.”
Oh.
He pressed play, clutching the phone to his chest. The music reverberated in time with his heartbeat. Maybe there was a chance that the same song was buzzing through Will’s heart at the same time.
“You’ll get to slap me soon, I promise,” he said aloud, followed by a quiet chuckle. “I love you, too.”