Chapter Text
”Everyone good to go?” Will called out from the car, watching as the others exited the house with their bags and instruments—except himself and Mario, as they had put their drums and keyboard in the trunk earlier.
Mike nodded as he opened the front passenger door, sitting in the front seat and buckling up, slamming the door behind him.
”Yeah, we’re all good. At least I’m pretty sure we are.”
“Okay, sweet. New York, here we come!”
Will cheered and as did the others, and he started the engine as he began to drive. Mike turned on the radio, and a soft jazz song came on. Will hummed along to the tune, tapping his fingers against his thighs like piano keys.
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Will stopped at a gas station later that night to fill up on gas, and he glanced at the sleeping 5 members in the car, smiling at the sight. He filled up the gas, paid, and kept driving. The open window blew wind in, making an almost drum-like sound.
Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum…
He changed the radio to some channel, playing indie/alternative rock songs. He mumbled along to the lyrics, before he stopped the car at some motel to get sleep.
Will wouldn’t book a room, obviously. He’d just stay in the car with the others. Then again, the car was quite cramped, so… screw it, he’s getting a room. He’s abandoning the others though. They’re staying in the car, and they’d get pissy if he woke then—especially Matt; he loved his sleep.
He entered the hotel, seeing a man with glossy eyes at the counter—likely blind—but he smiled at Will as he entered, as though he saw it with his very eyes.
”Ello, kid. What can I get you today?” The man asked, though the answer was quite obvious.
"One room, please. One-night stay.”
”Alright, then.” The man handed Will a room key, and Will thanked him as he headed to his room—Room 264—on the second floor.
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He entered his room, which wasn’t the best but relatively comfortable, and began changing into his pyjamas. He stared at his shirtless chest in the mirror, a wave of disgust and sadness and dread washing over him as he stared at himself.
He hated the way he was born.
He hated his surgery scars, his (whatever you call female anatomy), how he sounded before, his birth gender, his femininity… all of it. He hated himself.
He wished he had just been born a man, and everything would’ve been just fine. He wished he was never born this way.
He put his shirt on, laid on his bed, and cried.
He cried until he couldn’t breathe. He cried until he couldn’t cry anymore. He cried until he couldn’t stay awake.