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Will felt like he should be used to it by now, Mack always overshadowing him. The other was always better, getting into The Olympics at only the age of 19 while Will was stuck back at home. It was always about Mack anyway, from reporters always asking Will about Mack and never Mack about Will to Mack being everyone’s “baby” online. Will had wanted a name for himself, he had hoped for one, he knew he was good, but he supposed he just wasn’t good enough, not in comparison to Mack.
It had started by accident. Will had cut himself while shaving. It hurt, but at the same time it felt good. Like a breath of fresh air, blood leaking from the side of his face. He kept doing it, not on his face, he wasn’t stupid enough for that, no, but under his arms, and along the insides of his thighs, the places people didn’t look, or once along a spot that if someone saw it they wouldn’t think otherwise of it.
He knew it was bad, he knew he shouldn't, but he needed it. He needed it after a long day of talking about how wonderful Mack was, because he was wonderful, but it graded on him, he needed it after a bad game, he needed it when things went wrong, he needed it almost always now. I was like a drug, addictive, his skin itched for it, his head hurt with the need. The only other things that seemed to matter besides it was Mack, and Mack not finding out.
Will wanted to bash his head against the wall, they had lost, of course they had lost. Mack would be upset, and Will would be expected to care for him, no matter how upset he himself was about the game. Will wanted to rip new lines into his skin. He needed the relief, bleeding felt good, it felt like a steam valve being opened, like there was too much build up and he could finally let some of that extra bad shit in his body go.
“Will?” Will froze, he didn’t want to deal with Mack today, he knew that would be what Toff would want from him, but he just couldn’t. He wished he could, he wanted to care for Mack, but not now, now he couldn't.
“Sorry Toff, I have to go, I have, uh, I have to go to a meeting.” he stammered out, hoping that Toff would believe him. He didn’t look at Toff’s face, he just left, hurriedly grabbing his stuff and rushing out the door to his car.
The fact that he didn’t get into a car accident had to be a miracle. Will hardly paid any attention to what was going on around him, hardly watched the speedometer to make sure that he wasn’t going too fast, in fact he was positive he sped a lot on the way home. God must have been watching over him, because he didn’t get pulled over.
He stumbled into his place, pushing off his bag, and wandering his way into the bathroom. He rifled through his drawers, fingers catching on random things, none of them what he wanted them to be. “Fuck, fuck.” he muttred out, he could feel his skin itching for release, but he just couldn’t find his razor. He groaned, grabbing at his hair, tearing at the golden strands. The pain of it did nothing to relieve the itch in his skin.
He ran his hands through his hair again, tugging at the ends, golden tufts falling to the ground. His phone rang out, and he grasped at it, checking to see who was calling. It was Mack. Will didn’t have the energy or time to deal with Mack still. He needed to find his blade, he needed to get that relief. He let the phone ring, the ringing call no different to the ringing in his ears.
Finally he found it. His fingers shook, they always did. He always hesitated, it didn’t matter how badly he wanted it, how badly he needed it, he would always hesitate, his own mind always getting in his way like it never failed to do when it mattered most. He would always be less then, always matter less, always be worth less. Hockey was just the biggest example, there were more, Toff always cared more about how Mack was, always cared more about what Mack might need after a bad loss, and of course it was normally Will.
It didn’t matter if Will didn’t want to, almost always he would come to Mack’s aid. He loved Mack. Him, William Charles Patrick Smith was deeply in love with his best friend, with Mack. So he would do anything for the other, he would sacrifice his own soul for him. Mack deserved it so much more anyway.
Will pulled up his shorts, running his fingers over the few healing cuts already there. He wished he could leave more, he wished they could be deeper, but he knew questions would be asked then. He wondered if he could get away with it this time, no one was staring at the inside of his thighs, and if he did it right it would be hard to see. It could feel so good, it could be the thing he needed. Maybe if he was good enough at this, maybe if he finally proved he could be good enough at something then his mind would finally be quiet, even if just for a little bit.
The first cut wasn’t quite deep enough, it bled, but not enough. In frustration the next one cut much deeper. Will found himself following suit, going farther than he ever had, cutting deeper, pushing past his own rules in order to get the relief he needed. Biting deep into his thighs, leaving behind cuts filling with more blood than Will knew there should be. He knew he was playing a dangerous game, he knew there was an artery in his thigh, he knew that if he hit it, he could end up killing himself, but somehow he found he didn’t care.
He was so wrapped up in his own mind he didn’t hear his phone ringing again and again, didn’t hear the knock on the door, didn’t hear the door being unlocked, didn’t remember that Mack had a spare key, didn’t know Mack knew something was wrong and was there because he was worried. Didn’t notice the door open, as he cried into his bloody thighs.
“Will?” every bone in Will’s body froze at the sound of Mack’s voice. It sounded so scared and confused, and Will was the cause of it. Will out of habit went to calm Mack.
“Mack-” he started, hand reached out, his voice switched to the one he used to reassure, tears still drying on his cheeks. Mack’s own hand shot out and grabbed at Will’s fingers, snatching something from them. Will hadn’t even realized he had reached out with the hand that had the blade in it.
“Will, what–why–how?” Mack stumbled, his words a mess as he grasped the blade tightly in his hand.
“Mack, don’t hurt yourself.” Will said, going to take the blade back, but Mack snatched his hand away.
“Me?” he shouted “Me, don’t hurt myself? Will look at yourself. You hurt yourself, and you did it on purpose, why? I–I don’t even know what to say.” he collapsed on the last sentence. He sounded so defeated, and Will wanted to do something to fix it, he almost needed to.
“Hey, Mack,” Will tried again, reaching out with a, he noticed now, a bloody hand.
“Will please stop. Stop trying to comfort me. I’m not stupid, if you’re–you’re, hurting yourself, you need the comfort not me. I saw you, I saw you were crying. You don’t have to always be the one comforting me.” Mack said, creeping closer. Will watched him like a scared stray, waiting for him to strike, but Mack just offered a hug. “If you need to talk I’m here for you too. I love you.” Will blinked.
“You love me? Like love me love me?” he asked. Mack turned bright red, tripping back slightly as he seemed to realise what he had just said.
“I do, but now isn’t the time to talk about that, you need–” Mack started, but Will cut him off.
“I love you too.” Mack smiled, it was watery and small, but still a smile.
“Okay, but Will, you're bleeding, and hurt, not just physically, let me help you. If you love me, please let me help you.” Mack said, hand outstretched to Will, and Will took it. He allowed Mack to wrap him in a hug, allowed Mack to hold him, allowed himself to cry in his, whatever Mack was now ‘s lap.
Mack carefully cleaned Will’s cuts, and wrapped them in a way Will had never done before, normally Will would just leave it to fester, not caring if there was a chance of infection, they hurt better if he left them, but Mack didn’t let him.
He washed them, put antiseptic on them, placed gentle kisses on them, and finally wrapped them softly in gauze. He forced Will to call Toff, and sat with him when he asked to be held while he cried on the phone with the older. He put on a stupid romance movie and made cookies and milk for them. Finally he pulled Will onto the couch and wrapped around him like a bear, tight and loving, the promise of never leaving hanging in the air.
“Tommorow we talk more yes?” Mack said, and Will nodded, curling into Mack’s side. “And Will,” Will looked up to Mack.
“You will always be enough for me.”