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The plan had been simple: the four of them would go to the coast for the weekend. Simon was supposed to drive, Neil had promised to “sort the music,” and Jay, as usual, claimed he had “loads of fit birds” lined up who were dying to meet them.
But somehow, like most of their plans, it had fallen apart spectacularly. Simon bailed at the last minute, Neil forgot the actual date, and Will and Jay ended up stranded at the bus station with nothing but a couple of bags, a bottle of lukewarm Fanta, and each other.
The air was thick and grey, threatening rain. They sat on a low wall near the bus stop, waiting to figure out what to do next.
Will’s knee bounced rapidly, his breathing uneven. He kept adjusting his glasses, muttering under his breath about timetables, calling it “a complete mess” at least five times.
Jay, meanwhile, leaned back on the wall, trying to look unfazed. “It’s fine, mate. We’ll just-” He gestured vaguely. “We’ll just sort summat out. Get chips, pull some birds, maybe even stay over. Easy.”
But Will didn’t reply. His chest was rising too quickly, fingers clawing at the back of his hand, an act of anxiety. His face had gone pale, his eyes darting like he was trapped.
Jay straightened up, alarm cutting through the bravado. “Oi. Will? You alright?” He moved slightly closer, grabbing Will's hand and preventing anymore scratching.
Will tried to answer, but his voice came out in fragments. “I-I can’t...this is...god, this is ridiculous-” He pressed the heel of his hand against his chest, like he was trying to steady his heartbeat.
Jay recognised the signs, he’d seen it once before, Will is always quick to freak out. But this was worse. This was proper panic.
For a second, Jay froze. Comforting people wasn’t exactly in his skill set. Usually, he just lied until everyone laughed or walked away. But now, seeing Will like this, something tugged in his chest.
“Alright, don’t...don’t go mental on me,” Jay muttered, awkwardly, but his tone was softer. He dug into his bag, rummaging past food packets and an empty Lynx can, until his hand hit the paper bag he’d picked up earlier from the chippy. “Here. Got you summat.”
He shoved it into Will’s hands. Greasy, warm, wrapped in paper. Chips.
Will blinked down at it, still shaky, still pale. “I-I can’t...”
“Yeah, you can. Trust me, mate. Hot chips solve everything. Heartbreak, hangovers, exams, probably cancer. I swear by it.”
Will let out a weak laugh, more like a hiccup. His hands trembled as he unwrapped the bag. Steam curled up, carrying that familiar salty, vinegary smell.
Jay watched closely, nervously. “Just...just have a couple, yeah? Don’t think about it. Just eat.”
Will hesitated, then picked one up. It was stupid, really, just fried potato. But as soon as he bit into it, something eased. The heat grounded him, the taste familiar and solid in his mouth. His breathing slowed, little by little.
“That’s it,” Jay said, softer now, almost coaxing. “Good lad.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes, Will quietly eating, Jay pretending not to stare. He’d never seen Will so undone before, hair sticking to his forehead, glasses slipping, all that posh, uptight composure cracked open. It made Jay’s chest ache, in a way he didn’t understand.
Finally, Will set the bag down and pushed his glasses back up. His voice was steadier, though still quiet. “Thanks. That was…actually helpful.”
Jay shrugged, trying to act casual. “Told you. Chips fix everything.”
There was another pause, heavy but not uncomfortable. The rain had started, a fine mist settling on their jackets. Will’s knee had stopped bouncing.
He glanced at Jay, eyes soft behind the lenses. “I’m sorry. That was…embarrassing.”
Jay shook his head. “Don’t be daft. Everyone gets…y’know. Wobbly, sometimes.”
“You don’t,” Will said.
Jay laughed without humour. “You think I don’t? Mate, half the time I’m chatting about all the girls I’ve ‘pulled,’ it’s just so no one notices I’ve got no clue what I’m doing. I panic loads. I just… cover it better.”
That surprised Will into silence. He studied Jay for a moment, really looked at him, past the fake swagger, past the lies. Jay shifted under the gaze, suddenly self-conscious.
“What?” he muttered.
“Nothing,” Will said softly. “Just…you’re better than you pretend to be.”
Jay let out a short laugh. “Don’t spread that round, yeah? Ruin my reputation.”
But his cheeks were pink, and Will noticed.
The bus shelter offered little cover from the drizzle, so eventually they moved beneath the awning of a closed café. Will sat on the bench, Jay next to him, their shoulders brushing in the narrow space. Neither moved away.
The quiet stretched. Normally, Jay would have filled it with another crude joke, but tonight he didn’t. Tonight, he just let it sit.
When Will spoke, his voice was low. “Jay?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For not making fun of me.”
Jay turned his head, met his eyes. “I’d never take the piss out of that. You’re…you’re my mate.” A pause, then softer, “And you’re…kinda important.”
Something in Will’s chest tightened. His glasses had fogged slightly in the damp air, but he could still see the honesty on Jay’s face.
It would have been easy to laugh it off, to deflect with sarcasm. But instead, Will whispered, “You’re important too.”
Jay’s throat bobbed. His hand twitched on his knee, then, slowly, carefully, he shifted it so it brushed against Will’s.
Will didn’t move away.
The contact was small, ridiculous even, two damp teenagers in a bus shelter, holding hands like it was the most daring thing in the world. But for them, it was everything.
Neither of them spoke again. They just sat, side by side, sharing the silence, the rain tapping overhead, and the warmth of each other’s presence. For once, no bravado, no lies, no panic. Just something real, fragile, and quietly new.