Work Text:
And when the clothes are strewn
Don't be afraid of the room
…
Feel the love of her caress
She will be your living end
---
August 2018
It was foggy and cold, about one in the morning and sleeting somewhat when Will finally got off the tube to take the short walk through Camden town to home. They were a little buzzed off five or so beers, and the train ride home had been lovely, but a little melancholy in the way being alone in public sometimes was. However, in the dark with the streetlights casting light upon the path he impulsively ducked into an off-license and bought a pack of cigarettes, found a lighter at the bottom of their bag, and lit one for the rest of the walk. Somehow it always made him feel better to smoke late at night rather than any other time. It was a rare thing and in any case they’d earned it tonight.
The old terrace house was empty and cold when he finally got in. It was a great spot, not far at all from the market, and a fine enough walk up to Primrose Hill. He and Clara had sat there not long after leaving the villa, one afternoon they actually had time off from the madness of the winner’s media run. Autumn was chasing them fast and they’d lain on the grass in the weak sun. Will had drawn Clara sprawling next to him, and below that, the beautiful quote engraved on the concrete slab on the ground there: “I have conversed with the spiritual Sun. I saw him on Primrose Hill.” He’d shown Clara and her face went soft but her eyes intent with focus. Now he could never separate that hill from that look on her face.
That day was strange to Will. It always felt so easy around Clara, as it had done in the villa. But with all the interviews and the bombardment of attention, to just slip off into the mundane was weirder than anything else. Her eyes flickered backwards and forwards as she read an old novel and then the thought struck them: I’ve never seen you read before. She’d laughed and told him the same, in that cheeky carefree way she had about her.
When inside the old terrace house, Will took off their clothes and stared at themselves in the mirror. He’d cut off his hair recently, a buzzed style that made them look a little meaner. They liked it. When your heart’s been broke, it did take a piece of you with it. The rest of their body looked the same, perhaps a little less firm than in the villa, over a year ago now. He supposed they were thinking of Clara so much because it was the beginning of autumn again, the beginning of what he’d thought was the start of a new life. It was, he supposed. They felt very different now to then.
On the wall there was still Clara’s beautiful painting. It was blurred colours of pinks and oranges and maroons, and a deep murky blue, like a sunset, but if you squinted it could be speckled flowers. It was split down the centre by jagged brush strokes and a half circle spiralled outwards across the right side — golden yellow — and in tiny letters, only visible up close, she’d painted — I have conversed with the spiritual Sun. They’d never asked her what she meant by it because they thought they sort of knew. Something that didn’t need words. The sunrise and sunset, the colours of them bathed in warmth.
Will breathed out slowly and got into bed. Looking up at the glow-in-the-dark stars above his head just reminded them of how the two of them had just talked and talked beneath them. It was as though out of the villa a tap turned on that couldn’t be stopped: he’d heard everything about her, and she with them. But when the end of winter came around she’d become distant. Her life had unfinished business; a sister she barely saw and a mother destroying herself. A dark pit full of mixed-up feelings towards her father who’d left her when she needed him. And so Will didn’t know what to do. He’d never seen grief like that up close before.
In the villa, he’d told her when they realised he liked her. It was around the time they’d got back on track with Thabi, part of whatever stupid idea he’d come in with of making it to the end of the game. But always he’d been drawn to Clara. He noticed she always seemed surprised when someone asked if she needed something, when they offered to take care of her. There was something in her eyes when they caught glances that made him think about his decisions, that maybe they should change course. Her laughter, and how funny she could be, in a way they had never really mastered. She started to captivate them. And when she was feeling down she was so open about it — she’d let it all out in a concise sort of way, very connected to her emotions, before moving on. For Will he’d always felt a bit adrift, on the periphery of everything and everyone, but she was a natural charmer. People just liked her.
Towards the end, Clara had gone to stay with Angie for a day or two before meeting her sister, who Will had met twice or thrice — very different in looks to Clara, paler with a straighter, longer nose, but similar eyes, though her sister’s were brown, not green. He’d lain on the couch with a sense something was off before she’d even got back. When she did she’d obviously been crying all the way home on the train, eyes puffy and red.
“Angie told me she’s in love with me,” she croaked, falling on the sofa next to them. “Oh, and my Dad’s anniversary is this week and I feel awful. I just feel awful, Will.”
Will hugged her and sat with her and tried to say the right things but felt largely inadequate beside the mountain of her worries. Sometimes with Clara she felt so distant, like she could drift into the air and go so high up she’d disappear. But then she’d get up the next day for a meeting and leave the house singing a song stuck in her head and kiss them fiercely and they’d think she was alright again.
“What are you thinking about the situation with Angie?” Will asked her one night, a few days after that night. On the anniversary Clara had gone to have lunch with her sister who was currently in her honours year at uni. Amalie had gone to class afterwards and then out to a pub crawl with her friends. When Will had got home that night, Clara was on the phone to her best friend Naomi speaking quietly. She hung up soon after he arrived. It crossed his mind that she’d become very insular after Love Island, barely reaching out to those they’d made friends with in the villa.
Clara had put her phone down and looked at him. She’d bitten her lip.
“I dunno,” she said. “She knows I’m with you. There’s nothing I can really do.”
Will frowned at that. “Well, does she know you’re still friends?”
Clara puffed out her cheeks and blew air out slowly. “You know, Will, I’ve been in love like that before. It’s very hard to be friends with someone whilst you’re still feeling like that.”
“So you’re pushing her away.” Will didn’t know why they felt so angry. “Alright, then.”
Clara had just sighed and turned over to face them in bed. “She knows I still care for her a lot, Will,” she said quietly. “And I do. She just needs time to come to terms with it all. I’ll be here when she’s ready.”
Will didn’t say anything.
“Alright,” they whispered back. “What about Naomi? Are you seeing her soon?”
“She’s just got this new job, she’s working mad hours,” Clara whispered back. “We still talk all the time. It’s just different now, we’re both adults… Different lives… We can’t be in each other’s pockets forever.”
Will breathed out and held her to them and kissed her. That was instead of saying what was worrying him: that she was alone too much, that her life was condensing smaller and smaller.
Will lay down in bed and stared up at those stars, dimmer than they’d ever been, for a long while before deciding a spliff would help them sleep without worrying about whether Clara was alright now or as sad as they were.
———
April 2018
A few days after Clara left the old terrace house, Will received a call from Angie, which they ignored, then another, then another, until Will relented just to shut it up.
“Will,” Angie had cried — actually cried — into the phone, “I’m — I’m so sorry, I told her I didn’t want it to come between you two—”
“Hush, Angie,” Will had sighed. “It ain’t your fault. Not your fault at all.”
Angie cried a bit more and Will put her on speaker and lit a joint, smoking it until she stopped. It took a long while and Will had lain down on the ground feeling the marijuana soothe his muscles into quietness and their head into mush.
“You alright, Anj?” Will asked after she’d stopped sobbing and started sniffling.
“Yeah — I mean, I will — I should be asking you that. How you’re going.”
“Huh,” Will sniffed a laugh. He was oddly comforted by her familiar northern voice. “I suppose I’m pretty cut up about it. But, you know, the tides go in and out…”
“You never make sense,” she sighed, then sniffled. “I am sorry, Will.”
She hung up after a little while, and Will closed their eyes and fell asleep on the rug in front of the fireplace.
———
September 2018
Will walked around Primrose Hill that morning, grabbing a coffee with a friend, and then paid them for a baggy of weed before parting ways. When they got back home, he saw a passive aggressive text from his manager reminding him an instagram post for some brand was due. There was a pile of packages by the front door that he spent an hour and a half unpacking until he found the workout gear he was meant to promote. Instead they lay on the ground and considered grinding up some of that bud.
Instead, his doorbell rung. They sat up quickly, like they’d been caught doing something wrong. Then his sense caught up to him and they got up and opened the door to Angie. They stared at her for a second, utterly thrown.
“Well, will you let us in?” She said gruffly, and Will opened the door wider. “Shit, man. You’ve got a right mess going on here.”
“I was just sorting it,” Will replied absently.
“Right.” Angie stepped inside, looked at him, then the pile, then shook her head a little and kept on inside.
They went up the stairs to the living room and studio, though it mostly looked like a madman with paintbrushes had been squatting there for a few weeks. The stench of weed and incense did not help matters. Will refused to feel embarrassed about it.
Angie sat on the sofa and Will on the floor opposite her.
“Tea?”
“I’m alright.”
Will shrugged.
“Why’d you come?”
“I wanted to say something. Give us a minute, would you?”
She sounded nervous, so Will obliged. Angie let out a shaky breath and yet said nothing. Emboldened by the silence, he got up and crossed to the window. Outside it was raining lightly and the whole world looked dull and grey.
“I know it’s been a while but I am… sorry,” Angie said quietly. “About that phone call and everything else. You know… I do really care about you too, Will. I wasn’t doing it to get in the way of you two. It was just eating me up inside. I couldn’t think or… do anything, really, without thinking of her. And I was just talking about all these new feelings I’ve started recognising for what they are. And then it just…”
“Came out,” Will huffed a laugh in her silence. Angie made a slight coughing noise that could be a laugh stifled.
They turned to her. Angie was twisting a cotton rug’s tassel absently around her finger then letting it loose again before repeating — twist, twist, let go.
“I don’t blame you for us breaking up, Angie. We talked about what you said when it happened. There was just other stuff, too. You know, sometimes you’re on the right path, in a beautiful park. Then it becomes Winter. And suddenly everything looks and feels completely different.”
Angie shook her head, but it was more exasperated than anything. “I can’t believe I understand what you’re saying there.”
“Has she spoken to you recently?” Will asked quietly. Angie shook her head.
“No, not really. She called the other day, but didn’t… say all that much. I don’t know where she is. Najuma said she’d seen her in Manchester a few weeks ago but nothing since then.”
“Right,” Will said, and wished she’d never come here at all. There was an ugly feeling that’d been residing in their stomach for a good few months now, mostly dormant, but always close by. It was now rearing its head as though reanimated. “Well… Sounds like it’s all sorting itself out naturally.”
Angie gaped at them as they made to walk to the door. Will’s hand rested on the handle just as she called out, “Wait—! Will, you…”
Will paused but she didn’t say anymore. “What, Angie?”
She sighed. “I just though that… well, someone shouldn’t give up on her. I mean, none of us have, but it would be nice for you not to either. That’s all.”
Will considered this. They dropped their hand from the door handle and closed their eyes briefly. “The difference is,” they say, “is that I think I have to give up on it. I’ve been waiting and waiting for too long already, Anj. Too long with nothing. And that’s no one’s fault, it’s just how it is.”
Angie got to her feet.
“Alright, Will,” she said sadly. He hugged her and let her kiss his cheek. As she left she said, “Don’t be a stranger.”
Will closed the door, and then reached for a spliff.
———
October 2018
Will had the rest of the day to themselves so after replying to a few messages he’d ignored over the past week he retreated into the terrace house and tried to capture something on canvas of how they were feeling. Overall it was a blurry isolation, ‘on the outside of everything’, as Bowie put it. He’d put on Moonage Daydream and smoked a spliff inside as he worked and failed to work. Then Will opened a journal and let their high dictate his pen. It was smooth and pillowy and there was something going in and out, like juice dripping out of his brain. He fell asleep to Bowie’s voice echoing something about his parent’s loveless marriage.
He woke up to his phone buzzing at their thigh, maybe only ten minutes after drifting into an odd and surreal doze. Without thinking they looked at the screen.
Hi, Clara had written, sorry I’ve been so distant, as we talked about I had to sort some things out. I’m seeing everything a bit more clearly and its obvious I let you down more than you did me. In fact you treated me very carefully and gently which I am very grateful for. Sorry if this is unwelcome but I thought you might want to hear from me … and I hope you’re alright. x
And under that, a notification from Youcef from yesterday.
ciao. going to be in london with najuma in three days for valentina’s event. will you be there? catch up beforehand?
Will closed their phone and watched the images on the tv. His chest began aching. Archival footage of teenagers from the seventies were piling in from an underground station covered in red zig zags and a live version of Heroes was playing underneath it. And then, Bowie, sitting in bright blue with bright red hair, watching a tv in isolation. Did he know that the camera then would capture him, and that that moment right there would end up in a tribute to his life and music…?
Maybe we’re lying, then you better not stay…
———
November 2018
The day Will saw Clara again they were pretty much expecting it. They’d messaged back and forth exactly twice each, both prepared to come face to face, not giving much away. After over six long months, they could handle it.
Will got up that morning very suddenly in the old terrace house and ran some errands, feeling invigorated by the motivation to not think about that fact. When Will arrived home, full of grand ideas of tasks to accomplish they ended up laying in bed with the sun cutting through the small gap between the curtain and the window. He felt utterly exhausted, looking around with little strings pulling at him to do something or anything, yet their shoulder twinged when they moved and the ever looming evening kept them there.
In the end Will got up, tried to find something exciting to wear and to forget about his body. Life at this moment really was a lot of figuring out what was too much and what was just enough…
He saw Youcef and Najuma beforehand at a bar, hastily arranged at the last minute, and was comforted by the lack of questions surrounding Clara. Will went outside with Youcef for a smoke, only Will’s was rolled with weed, and he let himself feel soothed like a rock polished out of all the rough edges. Youcef was talking to them lowly.
“I very much hope Lexi won’t be there,” he was saying, “but of course, she will be. She cannot keep away from the clout, she loves it.”
“Hmm,” Will said. Their eyes traced the line of streetlights all in a row getting smaller and smaller away from them. “Indeed she does.”
Youcef looked at him sideways. “Are you worried to see Clara tonight?”
Ah, the French tact… “Dunno. It’ll be fine, I suppose.”
Youcef sighed loudly. Will looked at him.
“You can speak to me,” Youcef rolled his eyes. “I remember everything, you see. What you told me when you were plastered.” He affected a London accent for the word.
“Well, I suppose… I am sad about it still.” Will inhaled a drag and blew it out before going on. “But I can’t be worried about running into her. It’s still my life.”
Youcef clapped him on the back. “Wonderful. We will have fun. Now, hurry up with that, it’s freezing.”
Will headed back inside. When they sat back down with Najuma she grinned widely and started on a story from work she’d clearly been busting to tell them whilst they were gone. Youcef looked at her fondly and Will tuned out, thinking — why them? The ones that fought so much inside the villa, who looked so tenuous at times, who took so long to get to one another… You couldn’t find two people less similar to one another, yet here they were, happy as anything…
“Penny for your thoughts, Will?” Najuma asked with a shrewd look. “Your eyes glazed over about two minutes ago.”
“Sorry,” Will shook their head. “Just thinking. Can’t believe it’s been a whole year and a half, that’s all. Haven’t seen some of them in a while… months…”
“Clara being one of them?” Najuma pursed her lips sympathetically.
“Thought you lot weren’t bringing it up,” Will grumped.
“Yeah, we weren’t gonna, but you’re over there looking all pouty,” Najuma said. Her voice was teasing but he could see the look in her eyes. Youcef swirled his drink around and took a sip without looking at Will. They were on their own.
“Yeah, well, obviously haven’t seen her in a while. ’S fine, though. Gotta get on with things… Let things happen as they are…”
Go with, and not against, Clara had told him. That just sat oddly somewhere in their chest. He’d hear her voice again, tonight…
“Alright, if you say so,” Najuma took a gulp of her drink and pulled out her phone. “Alright, I reckon we’re fashionably late now, but not in ten more minutes. Let’s get our skates on.”
They got an Uber; ten minutes later were out the front. Will was feeling pretty stoned. He wished he didn’t have to go and talk to people now, oddly scared by the idea — Najuma and Youcef were fine, safe enough, but just looking at the big entry door made their legs feel like they’d disappeared and they were just floating, untethered to the earth. Will shook their head.
Don’t think like that, they thought. That’s just a spiral. But their heart picked up a steady incessant thrum and he looked at Najuma in panic. She came over to them.
“’S alright, Will,” she said, tucking her arm through theirs. Youcef came up on the left and did the same. “We won’t stay long. It’ll be easy, quick few hellos, have a drink or two, then we can be out. We’ll stay with you the whole time.”
Will swallowed. He could do that, they thought.
“We are easily the best dressed, too, the three of us,” Youcef added. Najuma laughed.
“Oh, no doubt. Absolutely no doubt.”
Will laughed and felt the arms around his. They went inside.
———
August 2017
Everyone loved Clara in the interviews after the villa, the podcasts, radio shows, all of it. She answered questions in just the right way that charmed everyone and didn’t come off at all smug or ungrateful. She carefully avoided speaking on her family, as she always did, met each person with a smile and happily took photos with overwhelming young girls yelling in her face on the streets. They stayed inseparably together through all of the days and talked and fucked at night.
“When do you think it’ll settle down?” Clara asked one night into the dark. Will breathed in and out. His heart was still racing from being inside her.
“D’you mean…”
“All the craziness. It’s insane, isn’t it? I feel like I haven’t had a second to think, to catch up properly with Naomi, Amalie…”
“I know,” Will laughed. “I still want you to meet my parents.”
Clara didn’t answer that, and Will turned over to her after a moment. Faintly they could make out her face staring at the ceiling.
“Or… We don’t have to do that yet. Whenever, really.” He gauged her reaction.
After a moment she rolled over to face them. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I just wish I could say the same to you. But I can’t. I haven’t talked to my mother in three years.”
Will swallowed and his heart did an odd little skip. They’d suspected her relationship with her family was strained, and knew her father had died, but never why or how. “That’s alright,” Will said instead. “I don’t mind. I don’t need them — just you, and the people in your life. Like… Naomi?”
“We grew up together,” Clara smiled. “She’s my other sister.”
“That’s very sweet,” Will said. “I have a mate I’ve known forever, but we sort of grew apart once we finished school. We still catch up every now and then, but…”
Will trailed off. Clara breathed out and tucked her head into their chest. They had the sense the conversation wasn’t finished yet.
“My mum…” Clara whispered, so quietly Will could barely hear her even so close, “my mum is not a good person. She… tried, I suppose, but she was bad at it. At being a mum.”
Will felt like he was holding on to his breath, so released it. This was big to take in but harder for her. “I’m sorry.”
Clara shrugged jerkily. “She and Dad used to fight all the time. Only he stopped fighting back… So Mum just got worse. Drinking and stuff. We had no money, Dad was working his arse off and Mum would spend it on booze. He’d hide it from her and she’d find where his stash was and off she went to the bottle shop. It would just get worse and worse, you know, we’d be happy families for a week or so, then only a few days, then it felt like never. Dad used to try and stop her but he just gave up one day. And then after he gave up fighting her rages she’d just…”
Will realised he was gripping her tightly and relaxed their grip. “She’d what?” They asked hoarsely.
“Hit him, and stuff,” she said quickly, “and… yeah, then Dad died, and she never got better.”
Will had a sinking suspicion on how her father had died, then, and swallowed back a prickling heat in their eyes. “Did she ever hit you?”
“Only once or twice,” Clara said. “Not badly. Not like she did with Dad… Just when she was blind drunk and fed up. Her life got so boring she’d find things to be angry about. I basically moved in with Naomi after Amalie got into her boarding school. I’d only go home about once a week.”
Will felt paralysed with the information. They tried to imagine it, and tried not to, but couldn’t help it — this girl with him now, with the warm smile and sparkling green eyes that constantly surveilled everything who had been terrified of letting Will know her feelings were real… What she’d seen and survived…
“So, yeah, er. I dunno. I don’t think you’d want to meet someone like that,” Clara rolled onto her back again, away from them. Will realised they felt a little shaky.
“No,” he said quietly.
“Sorry if that was too much —“ Clara began, but as soon as the words began to leave her Will flung themselves into her side. He kissed her stomach, traced her flowers on her leg, kissed up to her neck and then pressed their face against hers. Their hands touched her carefully but firmly — a tear fell from his eyes — he kept kissing every spot they could reach.
“I love you,” Will whispered, and Clara gasped as a hand trailed up her waist to her breast. “I’m going to love you for a long, long time. And nothing like that will ever happen to you with me, not ever.”
Clara turned her face to theirs and they kissed fervently. It didn’t feel like anything else was happening at all in the world, nothing — they were there, and there was nothing else.
———
November 2018
The top floor bar hosted the event for the evening, the top of a skyscraper decked out with glossy glass windows overlooking the Thames and the glittering city surrounding it. When Will, Najuma and Youcef walked in they were greeted by bright pink and orange flowers hanging down from a photo-wall, a fast fashion brand’s branding in neon lights alongside a cursive Valentina, orange cocktails with enormous garnishes placed next to an extravagant cheeseboard. Everything was bright and loud, a DJ was pumping Caribbean beats to the swell of influencers everywhere. It was, perfectly honestly, a nightmare for Will; but Valentina’s glowing smile and a tight hug for all of them made him feel a little more at ease.
“How are you?” She yelled into their ear. “I missed you! And, ohmygod, the hair! You look fit, Will!”
“Thanks, Val,” he grinned and flushed a little. His head felt heavy with the weed. “This is awesome. Congrats.”
“Thanks, hun!” Val beamed, then turned to Najuma and Youcef. Will took the opportunity to look around.
There were a bunch of Islanders he vaguely recognised from past seasons… There was AJ, whom they remembered chatting to at an event about a year ago… Bobby and Elise, the winners from the most popular season… Lottie, who he was pretty terrified of after she tried to flirt with them (it felt more like he was being yelled at), and then handsome Levi and a short guy he forgot the name of. He saw Kobi chatting to Thabi and James and decided to head over there. They turned as they approached and Thabi ran into their arms.
“Will! Oh my God, how are you?” She said excitedly. “It's so good to see you!”
“Hey, bro,” Kobi approached Will with an easy smile. “Nice to see ya.”
James shook his hand in his usual dorky way that made Will grin. They exchanged pleasantries for a few moments before he saw her.
Although he’d been preparing for this the whole week, telling themselves at every moment her face came up in their mind that he was ready to see her, it didn’t stop the very physical THUD that occurred in their chest. She was wearing a long, dark red strapless dress and her curly hair had grown even longer, down her back now. She was holding a drink and gesturing fervently to Angie, who was leant back with her arms crossed and nodding with a frown.
And she looked so beautiful. So, so beautiful…
“What’s up, Will?” Kobi asked, then followed Will’s line of sight. “Ooh, Clara — ow!”
Thabi had elbowed Kobi harshly in the side. “Do you want to say hello, Will?”
Will blinked slowly and forced their gaze back to the others with effort. “Oh…”
They trailed off. Right now all they wanted was to pretend to go to the loo and bolt it home. But a small part of himself, probably louder as the nerves became dulled by weed, was curious what she’d say if they walked up to her. Will looked to Thabi and saw her kind smile.
“Yeah. I might go say hello.”
Kobi clapped him on the back boyishly. “Atta. Rip off the bandaid. Good luck.”
James gave Will an affirming smile and then he felt his feet taking themselves towards her. It was like they were moving in slow motion, the beat of the DJ deck feeling minutes apart from each other, her bright face all they could see until they were standing right in front of her and she and Angie turned around. Clara betrayed only a moment of slight shock before composing herself.
“Oh, Will!” She said brightly, and quickly pulled them into a hug that Will was barely conscious of before it ended. “How are you?”
“Will,” Angie nodded. She did not offer a hug but instead a wry smile.
“‘M good,” Will said stupidly. Suddenly their brain was utterly blank on what to say. “Er, how are you?”
“Oh, yeah, good, good,” Clara replied, her smile dropping a little. Why did I come over here? Will thought. Of course it would be awkward.
“Well, just thought I’d say hi,” Will said, “you look nice.” He turned around quickly without waiting for her reply and strode off. They didn’t chance a look back at Clara’s face, not at all. He ended up bumping into someone in their haste.
“Oop! Sorry, lad. Didn’t see ye there,” came a thick Scottish accent, and Will realised it was Bobby McKenzie. He’d only spoken to Bobby once at some event long ago in the whirlwind of the villa victory tour, but remembered him vaguely as a likeable sort of guy.
“Sorry, my fault,” Will forced an easy smile on their face. “How are you, Bobby?”
“Yeah, mate, ‘m great,” he grinned. It was easy to see why he’d won — he was like a puppy dog, all freckles and warmth. “‘Ave’nt been to one of these sorts of dos in a while, me and Lissa were in London and thought it would be good to see some of the gang. How’re you doing? Heard about…”
He gestured to where Will had run from. Will shrugged, about to pass it off, but when he looked up at Bobby he felt compelled to tell him the truth.
“Well, yeah, to tell you the truth… I haven’t seen Clars in a few months and…” Will tried to find the words, but what came up was disappointing, awkward, worse than what I’d imagined. It felt pretty pathetic.
Bobby grimaced sympathetically. “Ah. Not too well, then?”
Will shook their head. Bobby offered up his hand, clasping one of those bright orange cocktails.
“Do you drink?” He asked, and Will nodded. “This was for Gaz, but I’m sure he’ll figure himself out. Here, take it if you want.”
“Thanks,” Will replied gratefully, and they clinked their glasses together. He expected Bobby to run off to his mates but he stayed put beside them.
“Listen, mate, I know I don’t know yeh from a bar of soap,” Bobby said thoughtfully, “but I reckon you should talk to your lass properly, just to know where ye stand. Otherwise you’ll be in this limbo forever.”
Will frowned at Bobby. “Limbo?”
“Aye. Between knowing and not knowing.” Bobby raised his eyebrows mysteriously and took a sip of the orange drink. Will kept staring at him, trying to understand what he knew and also did not know. He must have looked pretty clueless because Bobby sighed exasperatedly. “If youse are going to get back together or not.”
“Oh!” Will said, and paused. “I was sort of waiting on her call, to be fair.”
“Yes, and now she’s moving on thinking you have too,” Bobby said wisely.
“Oh,” Will said quietly, mulling it over. “How do you know all this?”
Bobby leaned in. “Coz I watched your season. Knew ye fancied each other from the beginning. And what can I say, I’m a romantic.”
Bobby grinned, bright and warm, and Will found themselves a little enamoured by the brightness of him. He leaned back and looked across the room, and Will followed his gaze, and it had fallen on Elise who was winking in their direction. She was a very pretty girl, dark brown hair and curvy. When she turned back to her friends Will looked at Bobby, whose face was positively gooey with adoration.
“You see things in a very golden way,” Will said, “like the world’s in sunset all the time.”
Bobby laughed and clapped them on the back. “Dunno what yer talking about, mate, but I can roll with that. Anyway, I’d best find Gary… He’ll ask Lottie to take him back again if I don’t keep a leash on ‘im… Nice to see you, Will.”
Will nodded and Bobby walked away. He closed his eyes for a moment to steady themselves; he really did feel very stoned. He took a small sip of the orange drink and clung to it, listening to the Caribbean drums pick up and tumble over a jungle-disco synthesiser.
“Earth to Will,” came a drawling northern voice, and Will startled as Angie poked their arm. She rolled her eyes at their reaction. “Sorry.”
“You startled me.”
“You looked like a weirdo, swaying in the middle of the room by yourself. I was helping you out.”
Will smirked and didn’t say anything, instead taking a sip. The cocktail tasted like orange juice and he suspected it was a tequila sunrise.
“Yes, ‘thank you, Angie, you legend’,” Angie went on.
“She alright?” Will mumbled, ignoring her snark, and Angie sighed.
“Why don’t you ask her?” Angie said lowly. “You basically blanked her before, it was dead weird.”
Will shrugged. “Didn’t want to be too much. Let everything breathe.”
Angie sighed. Will looked at her.
“You two aren’t…” he trailed off.
“What?” Angie asked sharply.
“Y’know, together…?” Will said.
“God, no.” Angie flushed. “I’ve got over that. She was… my gay awakening.”
“It’s always the best friend,” Will sighed. Angie rolled her eyes.
“Whatever. I’m done helping you now. Don’t you dare tell anyone about all that.”
“I promise,” Will said seriously, but she was already sauntering moodily away. Will watched her with a bemused smile before turning to see where Youcef had got to.
Later on, Will had said his goodbyes — Youcef and Najuma were lost to the dance floor, grinding filthily on one another — extracting himself from a drunken Lexi asking him to come on her pod to make it out into the hallway. They breathed a sigh of utter relief when Clara came up to them. In fact Will did not realise it was her for a good few moments — she seemed to appear suddenly at their side, so when he turned around she was all they could see. He blinked, a little dizzy from the orange cocktails.
“Hello,” he said, and smiled at her. The green eyes were intense, throwing him off guard as always…
“Can I speak to you?” Clara asked. Will nodded.
“Yes, yes. Of course.”
They went out into the corridor leading to the stairwell, finding a seat stowed away in between a white door saying Staff Only and a large potted bush. The thumping beat from inside spilled out quietly amongst them. Clara strode over to the leather white lounge and sat down, looking up at Will expectantly. They too sat.
“Well,” she said quietly, then laughed. “Wow, this is odd. It feels like no time at all has passed, weirdly, but I feel so different to how I did a few months ago…”
“So do I,” Will agreed. She bit her lip and quirked a half smile, and Will grinned broadly. “Do you like my new hair?”
“I love it,” Clara smiled, then snorted. “You suit everything, tosser.”
Will let out a hearty laugh. It felt foreign and sudden and it rang in between them.
“Mine’s changed too, I suppose,” she twisted at the ends reaching down her shoulders. She stopped fiddling and her expression darkened a little. “Will, I’m sorry it took so long to speak with you. I do regret that.”
Will just shrugged. “If that’s how long it took, then…”
“Yes but it feels unfair. It all ended very suddenly and… well I suppose it was unfair to you.”
Will swallowed. “It’s not unfair, Clara. It’s the way things went for us — that’s all. We did the best we could.”
Clara nodded slowly. Her gaze was still directed at the floor in a slight frown. “I feel like I have so much to tell you, but I don’t know where to begin. Or if you even want to hear it anymore.”
“I always like listening to you talk.” Will wanted to hug her tightly to them but instead reached to the side of her thigh and tapped it lightly with the back of their hand. He sent her a wide smile. “I hear you’ve been on mysterious adventures no one knows about.”
Clara had looked up when Will touched her and seemed to steel herself as she faced them. “I had to go back home. To my mother. She… Well, Will, I saw her, and she didn’t have much nice to say to me. I tried to offer getting her some help — the neighbour told me she’s been in and out of hospital with alcohol poisoning… Well, she didn’t like that much.”
Will sighed. “Clara, you can’t force someone to change. It’s —”
“Everyone else in the world has given up on her,” Clara interrupted. “Absolutely everyone. She’s still my mother, she’s still a person, a human being.”
Will considered their next words. “She can’t be only your responsibility. That’s too much to do on your own.”
“Amalie was there,” Clara said stiffly. “She came with me. And Naomi knows all about it too.”
Will looked at her. “Good,” they said, “I’m very glad for that.”
Clara sighed. “Sorry, I didn’t want to just bring up all that stuff. But that’s where I’ve been, in between a little bit of travel and all this new work stuff. Just trying to pull our family back together in some sort of way.”
Will nodded. They knew this, why she had to do it. It didn’t make them feel any better about Clara embarking on what felt like something that would ultimately end in tears.
“And you? I’ve seen you’ve been up to different things… Red carpets, events, all that jazz,” Clara nudged them.
“Oh yeah,” Will shrugged. “I like expressing myself through clothes, you know, and now I have the money to get whatever I like. It’s pretty cool.”
“Don’t spend it all on clothes,” Clara warned, and Will grinned and shook their head. How many times had she said that to them before?
“Promise,” they said like they always did. Clara flushed a little and smiled secretly, but Will saw it before she turned her head away. It was nice to know she remembered.
“So you’re alright?” Clara asked them, looking over shrewdly. Will nodded.
“Oh, yeah. Life’s a ride.”
She narrowed her eyes a little, considering them, but sighed and looked down. “Still in the old terrace house?”
“The very same.”
“You don’t want to… I dunno, change something up?”
“Thought my hair was a good start.”
“Ha!” Clara rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “I mean, y’know. Get going with your art, that’s what you were doing before I…”
Left, Will’s brain helpfully inputted. “Erm, yes, I’m still working on it all. Going great with that, actually.”
As soon as the words left their mouth he wanted to hit himself. They hadn’t picked up a canvas in months.
“Well, that’s great. I’ll be there when it’s ready to show the world.” Clara smiled at them. Will looked at her face, glowing and pretty, and wanted to lean in and kiss her like he had last time he saw her. It was the most natural thing in the world, to reach out and touch her, to stare into her eyes, to breathe in the air and everything around her and turn it into theirs, intimate and personal. But Clara looked away, and they were doused in icy water, hissing flames turning to smoke. When she got to her feet Will felt their heart cleaving all over again and found he couldn’t bear to look at her.
“Well, I’ll let you get off,” she was saying, “I’m heading off with Anj, so I better find her… I’ll let you know when I’m back in London, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Will said thickly. “That sounds great, Clara.”
“Alright.” They glanced up and saw Clara skating her eyes up and down them quickly, then to back inside. “It was good to see you, Will. Really. Keep well.”
“Yes,” Will said dully, then she was turning to walk away — “Clara, I — I think you’re very brave, doing everything you are. Most people wouldn’t, but… Please let me know if I can help in any way. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
Clara stared at them with her pink mouth slightly open, an expression like a sock to the head… She blinked, once, twice, then relaxed. “Thank you, Will.”
Then she really did walk away. And she hadn’t answered his unasked question — me too.
———
December 2018
After seeing Clara Will thought a lot about where their life was going. Usually he went about wherever they felt obliged to, but all that had ended up to were many days spent listlessly. The walls of the old terrace house had once felt exciting and new and now they reminded him of an old favourite shirt long forgotten. Will found there wasn’t a whole lot of meaning in anything they did any longer, mindlessly going from place to place, seeing people, going to events, buying new clothes they forgot about. Packages arriving, taking photos and posting them online. Money coming in but no fulfilment in any of it.
Well, perhaps something had to give. Will painted something that night and felt accomplished, though it was painful, like pulling teeth in forcing themselves to go through with it. They took out another canvas and did another. The paintings themselves were pretty crap, but they were something. The Pogues were playing and Will lay down on the wooden floor. It was rickety beneath their bare back as they lit a cigarette.
And I thought about a pair of brown eyes
That waited once for me
So I drunk to hell I left the place
Sometimes crawling
Sometimes walking
A hungry sound came across the breeze
And a rovin’ a rovin’ I’ll go …
For a pair of brown eyes.
———
January 2019
Will went back to their old aerobics class once a week, and signed up for an extra class after two weeks of doing so. He stopped calling his weed dealer so often and instead sat in the terrace house looking out the window and felt a lot of things they hadn’t let themselves. It rippled over him like waves and he painted and painted. Clara’s painting still hung in the big room looking over him. It was like his own spiritual sun, the driving force of all of this stand-still in their life. He wasn’t cut out for fame, for this position they’d put themselves in; attention, offers and events flying in, an agent who messaged him at different times asking for meetings on his ‘direction’. He’d stopped answering their calls weeks ago.
One day, amongst the scattered canvases and paint embedded into their nail beds, he pulled out his phone and ignored the unread messages — not out of guilt, this time, but out of the drive to keep chasing the new push inside of them — and pulled up their number.
“Hello, it’s Will Kimura,” they told the office, “I’d like to cut ties. I suppose this is my notice — I’m not interested in pursuing this direction of my life any longer. I’m happy to discuss further.”
There was a few seconds of pause from the other end. “Alright… Will, was it? Let me find your file…”
———
March 2019
Winter came and went in an imposed self-isolation. Will walked to the off licence through sleety rain to get groceries every few days and deleted every social media they possessed. His friends texted links to a few tabloid articles speculating on the disappearance but Will just breathed and let it go. He no longer talked to anyone from the villa except for Youcef, occasionally, letting him know he was alright. This was necessary, a catharsis. Never before had they had the financial means to leave behind every undesirable part of life they did not wish to participate in and create and feel. It was the best kind of transformation they’d ever experienced, perhaps even more so than the one with Clara — it was far less terrifying, more liberating.
He thought about Clara often. He’d cried many times over the loss of what they’d had, the closeness, the trust in one another. Many times he thought that they would never feel that way ever again with another human being.
“Love me tender” are his words
As I’ve loved you, so you must…
…
Thrice her lonesome kisses miss
My love, will you come back again?
Will closed their eyes against the sound in his ears and pulled one earphone out as they approached the cashier.
“Hullo, Janie,” he said to the woman.
“Afternoon,” she said staunchly, scanning the items quickly and barely looking. She was a grumpy woman, persistently sitting on her stool with a very small tv next to the till playing dog races all day every day. She always pretended she didn’t know his name, despite Will introducing themselves at least three times. Maybe she didn’t like their nail polish.
Janie glanced at the cash register. “Twenty quid and fifty pence.”
Will pulled out their card and tapped it. “Cheers, Janie. Have a good one.”
She groused in response and Will smiled at her as they left.
———
May 2019
After Winter had bitterly passed, the sun began its weak shine through grey clouds and also occasionally poked its head out to let little stretches of blue sky say hello. Will decided to download WhatsApp again and saw, with a strange skip of his heart, that an old friend had fallen pregnant and was only four months off giving birth. He rang her on an impulse, and the residual catching up was overwhelming and left them oddly emotional. They agreed to dinner later that week.
In the afternoon, he collected his post and saw their own brochure. An art exhibition down at a local gallery space. He’d invited Youcef, but he was modelling in Germany. He hadn’t been brave enough to send one to Clara. But the new art collective he was a part of had welcomed them in completely, and as he gradually brought in the guitarist from his old band and a seventeen year old kid he’d taught whilst painting murals, it felt like somewhere they actually belonged. It was a similar feeling to the one they’d had with Clara, that ease he’d been searching for ever since. Now he was casually seeing a guy from there, just hooking up really, but it felt like an achievement to let their body feel pleasure from another person. Life never ends, only changes.
On opening day, Will dressed in a sparkly see-through shirt with a pleated skirt and did some eyeshadow. They felt especially beautiful. Ty had come over last night and made them come three times, and there was a pleasant burn still settling from all that. At the event, Ty was running late, but Will made themselves comfortable amongst a few of the others who were drinking some trendy wine. His cheeks hurt from smiling and saying “thank you.” It got later, towards evening, when Ty arrived. He slipped around Will and planted a kiss on their cheek, along with an apology. Will didn’t really mind.
Then they looked around at everyone there, friends old and new. A few random, curious people from the street. They were surrounded by canvas’s of his creation, taking everything in. And then, in amongst it all, her. Those tight curls that spanned down her back, pulled back into a ponytail. Baggy black pants and a denim jacket. She turned and caught his eye. They stared for a long second, then she smiled, and turned back around.
In a lull in conversation Will excused themselves. They made their way to her. Stood beside her and looked up at the painting she was staring at.
I have conversed with the spiritual Sun. I saw him on Primrose Hill.
Life never ends, only changes.
It was a collage, really. Butterflies and flowers mingled with strokes of graffiti-like spray paint. Two figures on a hill. This one was in Will’s mind for a long while before they were brave enough to paint it.
“I really like this one,” Clara said quietly.
“So do I.” He looked at her. She seemed well, but her eyes were glistening. “What’s new with you, Clars?”
“Oh, not much,” she laughed tearily, wiping her eyes. “God, you’ve made us soft.”
“That’s alright. With, and not against, and all that.”
Clara’s lips quirked and wobbled. She turned to the rest of the room. “This is amazing, Will.”
“Thanks. Only took us two years.”
She laughed. “These things take time.”
“Like a tree establishing its roots. Then it blossoms.”
“And you have,” Clara looked at them again. “Look at you.”
“Look at yourself. You’re as beautiful as ever.”
“Oh, stop it.” She grinned though. Then a pause. “I don’t want to intrude. You don’t have to stand here and talk to me. I just wanted to see since Najuma told me.”
“Alright,” Will said, unsure how that made him feel. A little dismissed. “You getting on alright though?”
Clara shrugged. “Yes, then no, then yes. Mostly yes these days, though.”
“The roots can take time, especially if they’ve been damaged.”
Clara laughed again, nodding. “Very true. It’s a work in progress.”
The conversation had ended. Some of his friends were watching curiously. “Well, thank you for coming. I really appreciate it, Clars.”
“Anytime, Will. I’ll always be a big fan.”
Will nodded, and they hugged.
“Come and get a coffee some time?” She asked. “I’m back in London.”
Will smiled. “Course.”
He pulled back, feeling warm, and walked back over to their group. On the way back, they looked over their shoulder. Clara was watching, and her face… it was shining. Pride. That feeling resided more than anything else. That’s what he felt, too. For both of them. And maybe one day soon, he’d find out where she was at, but even without knowing, they were bloody proud of her too.
———