Work Text:
William woke up with the worse hang over ever. He woke up on his bed, half naked, his friends sprawled off all over his bedroom floor. He feels the stickiness in his body.
He sat down his bed, seeing Tui at the edge of it.
“What the fuck... wake up,” he said, shaking his friends who stirred but went back sleeping, “Fucking hell.” he muttered to himself.
He went to the bathroom, rubbing his face and eyes, trying not to fall. He looks at himself in the mirror.
He looks like hell.
“Oh, you look like shit.” he heard a voice said.
“You're awake,” he said at Nut, “No shit.” the older said, going to the toilet to pee.
“You almost drunk-texted your ex yesterday, by the way.” Nut said chuckling, William just groaned.
“Shut the fuck up.” that made Nut laugh more.
All his life William thinks he's composed. The ‘adult’ one in their friend group. Someone who won't crash out because of petty reasons. Someone who doesn't run from his responsibility.
But when it's about love and his romantic relationships? All hell breaks lose.
It's been seven years. Seven years. Yet he's still stuck up on his ex when he was a freshman in college.
They were together for two years and a month, William could argue that that was the best years of his life. Everything was perfect. He had good grades, his boyfriend literally looks like a Greek sculpture, and he's happy.
It ended on natural terms, their relationship. Because of distance. His ex wanted more opportunities and so he went to another country, William told himself they can do it. LDR won't stop them.
It did.
At first he blames the distance. It was cruel, you know? They both still loved each other, William knew that. It's like it just had to happen. No matter what, they will always end up breaking up.
So he tried moving on.
Started going out, hooking up with people, tried dating apps. But none of those fits him. It was not made for him.
Every party he goes to, he just started looking around for him. Every people he hooked up, either he said his name mid thrust, or he'll cry in the middle of making out because he misses him. Every match he had wouldn't work because of how much he compares his match to him.
It's like nothing could ever be close to him.
He was not even William's first love. But it stuck. And he's afraid it won't ever let go.
And so he stopped pretending. Pretending like he belong in that world and just started working. He worked every job he could at his college days. And after he graduated, worked his ass off as a producer of a solo artist. Just to forget. To distract himself.
Some of the time it helped. Most of the time it didn't.
He will end up having drinks with friends, cry his eyes out, and start typing of his phone, desperately trying to call his ex.
It's cruel and embarrassing. But that's life.
“William!” he jolted when a voice sudden shouted. Tui.
“What?!”
“You've been zoning out! We asked if you wanna come? We'll go haven brunch.” Tui said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. William just nodded and told his friend he'll change first.
They decided to go at a local resto just a few blocks away from William's apartment. His friends chatting and laughing and all William could think was the what-ifs and the could've-been.
It was torture, really.
“So, Will. Heard you're producing a new album for your kid, how's it going?” he heard Hong asked, he lifted his gaze, eyeing up his friends.
“It's cool. Tiring, but fun, I guess.”
They all deadpanned him.
“I guess?” Lego gasped dramatically, “You're so boring, P! Don't you have any stories you wanna share?” he whined.
“What type of—” he was cut off by Nut, “Watch what you wish for or he might start talking about his ex again.” and that earned a glare from William and laughter from everyone else.
Time passed by with them eating, chatting, and laughing. Tui quickly looked down at his phone and announced he's leaving and needed to see his girlfriend. The others followed, telling William to take care who just nodded at them.
And so that's why he's here now. Walking mindlessly at a kid's park, staring at the sky trying not to fall apart. It was safe and chaos at the same time.
The sky was golden. The type of sky that will remind you of the song The Man Who Can't Be Moved because of the sudden outburst of nostalgia.
His melancholic sigh was soon interrupted by a kid who accidentally bumped into his legs but immediately apologized and ran again. Giggling while she does so.
“Millie, come back here!” he heard a voice said. He looked up and was greeter by a man's back trying to run after his daughter. He laughed to himself.
He stared at the father and daughter. Eyes gleaming. He saw how the daughter just kept on running around, seemingly trying to tire out his dad. Who is just trying to, probably, change her shirt as it was dirty with ice cream and wrinkled with hands.
He saw how giggly the kid was when she was finally caught by that man and thrown around her father's shoulders who said, “Gotcha!”
And finally, he saw how the man turned around and he saw a face. A familiar face. A face that screams, You think I'm gone? A face that screams, I will always haunt you.
A face that screams nostalgia and youth.
It all comes rushing down.
The memories.
The take outs they ate while messily making out, the robes that were thrown around the hotel room they stayed at for almost a week because they couldn't pay the rent on time, the words that were shouted whenever one of them were too frustrated. The bed that shakes whenever he plopped down on it. The anklet that he gifted when they were in their lowest.
He remembers it all.
Even the way he looked at their last video call when he said, “Do you think we can actually do this, Willy?”
He wanted to go up to him. Maybe do small talks. Ask him how he's been. Tell him he missed him. Hug him. Kiss him. Own him.
But he retaliates.
Because the child on his shoulders tells him everything he should know.
He's okay. He's fine. He doesn't need me anymore.