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James doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to Will’s family home.
Not just because it was bigger than anything he was used to, or the unfamiliar area, but because of the warmth. All the photographs that lined the wall or sat on the mantel, of Will, of their family. The reminders of each other, of every accomplishment. The laughter when they all talk.
The amount of people at a family gathering, seeing how Will got along with almost all of them. He never had that. He never had family gatherings, he never had a warmth like that before. All he had was Hannah. He was never that person that was close to their family, he’s not a person that understands being safe around his family like Will was.
James would stare into the garden whenever he was over, imagining Will as a child running around. He sometimes wished he knew Will back then, to see what he was like growing up, before everything was complicated, before he was aware of their differences.
Will would often share stories from his childhood, because he could. He once absentmindedly mentioned the light still being on even when he came home later than he was supposed to. James tried to ignore the tightness in his chest at that, because he loved Will.
His love for Will was an anchor, and yet also a torment. Loving Will meant being in a space where he didn’t feel welcome, loving Will meant being aware of how differently they were raised.
Will’s mother was always kind to him, and James never knew how to accept it. Accepting love had never been easy for him, but when it came to Will, he wanted to try.
There were small moments where he could forget everything, moments where he casually laughed at a joke made by a family member, where he would engage in conversation instead of shutting himself out.
This time was interrupted though, these moments almost always are.
He reached for something across the table, but his hand knocked into someone’s wine glass beside him, knocking it over. The red wine soaked into the white cloth, spreading like it often does.
He freezes. He braces himself for the yelling, the berating. James had to clean all his messes himself, and he knew this would be a hard one to get out, if it came out at all. He closes his eyes, preparing himself for harsh words, but is surprised when he hears laughter. He opens his eyes to see Will’s mother laughing.
“Happens to the best of us, dear,” She says, smiling at James. “No need to worry, wine and table cloths can be replaced.”
He looks around to see that everyone is either laughing or smiling, and everyone soon goes back to their own conversation. As if it never happened. The table cloth was taken up as if it was no big deal.
Is that how it’s meant to happen?
He feels a hand on his wrist, and he looks to Will, his expression asking a quiet question. James appreciates Will for not asking out loud, and he gives Will a nod and a small smile.
For the rest of the night, Will’s hand doesn’t leave his.
Will’s mother is waiting by the door as they leave, giving both of them a hug.
“You’re always welcome, James,” She says with a smile.
James forces a smile back, the resentment crawling up his throat. I don’t need this now. It’s too late. Where were you when I was starving?
She did a great job raising Will, too good of a job. His stomach twists as they move to the car, filled with resentment at life, at the way Will grew up in a world where mistakes were forgivable, where the fall wasn’t fatal.
They fought sometimes. Mostly brought up by James being too cruel, or James letting the resentment build up. Will would bring up a concern, and James was on guard, he had to be. He had to be mean to survive.
After one fight, James refused to eat. He didn’t know who he was punishing, if he wanted Will to feel guilty, or if he felt guilty. He hated this side of him, the side that wanted to reject love just because he didn’t grow up with it.
And yet, through it all, Will stayed.
James never knew why, doesn’t know why Will would want to stay with him. There’s so many people out there who were raised with love like Will. He thinks of a world where he was raised like Will, and he grew up into someone good, someone who could accept love easily.
“You are someone good,” Will says when James finally confides in him. “I don’t want anyone else, I don’t want another world, another life. I want this one with you. I want you.”
James is starting to let himself believe him.
One day, Will asks how he feels about kids, about having them someday.
“I don’t know if I’m able,” James responds. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to raise a child with the love it deserves. Even if the family is good, I feel like I’ll corrupt it. I never grew up like that. Like you did.” He looks at Will, who’s just looking at him softly. “I’m sorry.”
Will shakes his head, taking James’ hand. “Don’t apologize. Kids aren’t as important to me as you are.”
“I know you want them though,” James says softly. “Are you sure you’re not mad?”
“Mad?” Will questions. “Why would I be mad? If anything, I’m heartbroken for you. You didn’t deserve what you went through.”
The words hit James hard. He swallows.
Months passed, but he slowly started accepting the love from Will and his family. He still felt the reflex to retreat, he still felt the initial reaction to pull away, but he forced himself to stay a little longer at the table, to accept seconds when he was offered, to accept hugs from Will’s family.
The dream of his own future changed too. It went from being alone to throwing a party in his and Will’s house one day. A house like the one Will grew up in.
It was when they were leaving one night that James realized he didn’t feel out of place once, that he felt like he belonged. He laughed with everyone, talked and joked. Not once did he want to retreat. He knows this isn’t the end, he may have his moments in the future, but this is a start.
He turns back to look at the house, and all he feels is comfort, and he doesn’t know how he once looked at this house and saw somewhere he doesn’t belong.