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The theatre, if one could call it a theatre, was located in a tight room of a repurposed tavern, that once had be known as a rowdy but cheerful place among the townsfolks, but now stood mostly abandoned, occasionally rented by desperate artists. One of those desperate artists being Nick Bottom, along his measly theatre troupe. A troupe Will had not so long ago been a part of.
Thank God, not anymore. Now, he only had to suffer through watching an entire Bottom original play instead of having to suffer through acting in it. Which he was doing now, suffering in this pitiful shithole, while the people on the stage did… something.
Technically, he didn’t have to watch it either. Really, he could just walk out anytime. But he had already bothered to come here, so it was no use leaving now. That was probably the last one of those he would ever have to see, anyway. At least, that was the general plan.
He stood perched by a table that was pressed to the wall in the back of the room.
His position had strategic values, he could see everything and everyone from here, and staying behind made him blend well with the background, which usually he did not especially enjoy but today was doing him a favour. He wasn’t exactly keen on anyone from the stage seeing him. Not yet, at least.
He yawned as Nick’s character once again began monologuing about the desperate situation he had found himself in.
Maurice The Cheesemaker was Nick’s most successful play to date, well, in this case successful meant more than twenty people had shown up to see it when it first premiered. Will held a firm belief that it was because he had been in the original cast.
It had once excited him, he hated to admit, starring in Maurice. It had been his first bigger role, after a series of being cast as the most background characters possible. After a month of begging for a character who wasn’t a messenger or a drunk no. 2, Nick had let him play Maurice’s love interest, Florence. It was not that Florance was that much of prominent character, since she had merely forty lines of dialogue in the entirety of the play. But, God, Will had been pleased, and he’d prattled about it as if I had been the role of his life. In hindsight, it was rather embarrassing.
Now, looking back at it, the most entertaining part of the whole ordeal was that, since Nick had been the one to play Maurice, Will could pretend that flirting with him counted as practicing the act. Which, of course, it had.
Perhaps because he was so lost in his thoughts, or because it was so damn boring, Will nearly didn’t notice when the play had begun coming to an end. Now all the actors were on stage, the only part left was Maurice’s final speech.
“It is not my path to wander through paths of idyllic pleasures,” Will muttered under his breath along with Nick, who was saying his lines in the most reverently impassioned tone of voice. “Cheese is what I chose, and now I too choose cheese, and I will choose cheese until the day death chases me away from this chiselled world.”
Will was pretty sure the cheese in the play was supposed to be some clever metaphor, he just couldn’t remember exactly what it was supposed to represent. Or maybe it wasn’t a metaphor at all? Maybe it was just about cheese.
“To all my companions here I confide those words, and these must remain noted in minds of yours,” Nick continued. “Do not ever abandon your cheese even if the fate tempts you to do otherwise. Cheese and only cheese can prove worth to the world, believe what I speak, for it is the truth.”
That was where the speech ended. It wasn’t exactly lengthy and its message did always confuse Will. Some prattling about earthly pleasures, death, but also about dairy…? He supposed it was consistent with the main theme of the play. But did it exactly make for a precise lesson of any kind? Not really.
But, alright, what was he doing expecting anything better from a story written by Nick Bottom?
On the stage the actors started bowing.
“Applause erupts,” Will finished by saying, only barely biting back a smile. Those last words were really and truly in the stage directions of the script. As if writing it down could do something to manifest the actual reaction. Nick had those at the end of every single play of his, he was endearing like that.
Alas, it happened so that the only one who understood and followed the instruction was Will. In fact, his clapping could be the only one that was heard in the entire room. He had to admit, he did feel just the faintest bit of pity. At least, there was no booing, or rotten tomatoes thrown. That counted as a positive, no?
His ovations, as intended, finally drew some attention. That was when Nick, who had been previously too absorbed in acting, at last noticed him and locked his eyes with his.
For a moment he examined Will with a frown, as if trying to make sure he was seeing right. It seemed to have taken him a second, but when he took the information in, he made a face. Then he mouthed something that looked like it was supposed to be really?
Will gave him a cheery wave as a reply.
Nick exhaled with exasperation, looking like he’d just eaten a particularly sour grape. He turned his gaze away, muttering something under his breath.
Will knew he had to wait a tick more, so Nick could put himself and everything around in order. He could hear him thanking everyone as the actors gathered together. After few exchanged words they all began collecting the props and cleaning the space up.
When they were done Nick seemed somewhat spent. He began drying his face with something that he liked to label as his handkerchief but was just a piece of ripped fabric he had clumsily sewed his initials on. Will let himself stare for a moment, while the few audience members that bore through the entirety of the play left the premise.
Soon, the troupe members began departing as well, chatting amongst themselves, atmosphere surprisingly cheerful. One or two urged Nick to follow, but he only waved a dismissive hand at them, stubbornly remaining by the now vacant stage. Will observed those ongoings with amusement, the place quickly getting scarce with people, leaving him and Nick alone.
Both of them remained on their posts, staring at each other intently, stubbornly waiting for the other to start whatever there was to start. After a minute of silence Nick took a step forward, hesitantly. More silence. Then he sighed in resignation and finally crossed the room, a grimace on his face.
“I’m not talking to you,” he began.
Will grinned. It was entrancing how easy it was to rail this man up, one didn’t even have to say a word to make him all defensive. “God, you’re cute,” he teased lazily. “If you don’t want to talk I know a number of ways we can solve a dispute without doing it.”
To his utter delight those words caused Nick to blush.
Alas, the blush turned out to be short-lived and when it faded, it was replaced with an unimpressed sort of expression. “Are you threatening me?” Nick asked, raising an eyebrow.
Will needed a second to comprehend where this idea even came from, and when he did, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “Sure, Nicky, I am. Let’s go have a duel. Let’s go stab each other and then die, sounds like a lot of fun.” He was met with a death stare. “Oh God, of course I wasn’t threatening you, how stupid do you have to be to not recognise when you’re being flirted with?”
“I can recognise it perfectly alright. It’s just you flirt literally all the time, Will. I wouldn’t be surprised if you could flirt and threaten someone in one and the same sentence. Who fucking knows what’s wrong with you.”
Will opened his mouth to bite back but then reconsidered. He supposed what Nick had said wasn’t entirely untrue. “Fair, maybe I do flirt all the time,” he agreed lightly. “Flirting is fun. And flirting with you is double the fun, since you get so adorably flustered. Tell me, when I do it,” he leaned a little forward, looking Nick straight in the eyes, “does it bother you?”
Nick must’ve understood the double entendre because for a moment the blush returned on his face. Will drew back again, satisfied with the results.
“Can you just stop it and tell me why are you even here?”
“Why, I came to bid farewell to my dearest friend Nick Bottom,” Will drawled sweetly. “…and officially announce my resignation from working with him.”
Nick opened his mouth and closed them and then opened them again. “Seriously?” he asked, sounding almost indignant. “You’ve decided to do that now? That’s a little overdue, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know. Is it?”
“About half a year overdue, in fact.”
Will shrugged. “It’s not like you wanted me as your actor, anyway, did you now?”
It took Nick a second to answer to that. And Will knew why that was. It was obviously because it was true. Nick could deny it all he wanted, but it would never change what he thought of Will’s acting. He had always given him the worst parts and had always stared with so much disappointment whenever he had performed, that it was clear just how much he had wanted him off the stage. “It doesn’t matter.” Ah, avoiding the actual subject it was, then. Naturally. “You can’t just leave, like that, without a word of a warning,” Nick huffed exasperated.
“Why not?”
“Because… you can’t. You can’t, Will.”
Will gave him a sugary smile. “Hate to break it to you, darling, but I kind of already did.”
That seemed to anger Nick even more, whose face grew red now, as he clenched his fists by his sides. He was visibly trying to keep himself in check from saying something very insulting, and Will was almost proud of him that he hadn’t. That must have had taken him so much willpower.
“Come on, Nicky, there is no reason to get so steamed up,” he said, reaching to fiddle with the lapel of Nick’s coat.
Nick swatted his hand away, making a face. “Of course, there is. I have all the reasons to be as steamed up as I want. I’m, I’m just-”
“You’re just jealous of my success, I get it.”
Nick’s eyes widened. “Excuse me? I am not jealous!” he snapped. “I’m angry with you because you went behind my back! Allegedly you were still working with us and suddenly, out of fucking nowhere, I’m hearing that a great new playwright William Shakespeare is preparing for his new independent play, with a theatre and a patron, and the actors are already rehearsing, and it’s going to be a big fucking hit!” He was seething, his breath heavy as he jumped from word to word. “And couldn’t you stop even for a second, through this masterful plot of yours, to maybe think about us?! The people who gave you an opportunity to even begin working in theatre?!”
Will, who until now watched this proper outburst with sort of morbid fascination, only could roll his eyes. “Nicky, I was an actor in your troupe. I never owed you any of my writing, or any of my success. And if you have no ability of making a name for yourself that is not my problem.”
“We worked together for years, Will! Maybe I didn’t exactly… care for your acting, but we, our troupe, you, me, we were always like a family, and you just spent half a year pretending like we didn’t ever exist in your life, like I didn’t ever exist in your life.”
“It’s not like you went to see my play either,” Will heard himself saying, not exactly of his own volition.
“I had a good reason for that.” But then something in Nick’s expression softened. “Besides, I had no clue you wanted me to see it.”
The sudden change of tone made Will feel uncomfortable. It was too sincere. This subject was way too sincere for his taste.
Because was he really supposed to admit that he had, in fact, wanted Nick to see it? That he’d spent hours wondering if he should approach him about it? But that he had decided otherwise? And that he had then gone around hoping that Nick would think of coming, by himself?
God, no, absolutely not. Even recollecting that felt embarrassing. So instead he opted for the sensible option. “I just think it would be beneficial to you as a writer to see the work of a future classic,” he said.
For a moment, Nick looked just disappointed with the answer, which made Will even more uncomfortable. Just for a moment though, because quickly enough that disappointed disappeared, and the irritation came back. “And this is precisely why I don’t want to speak to you!” he exclaimed. “Are you this incapable of honesty? It’s impossible to tell which part of a conversation with you I should believe.”
Now that was quite the tone which Will preferred, the one with which he was more familiar. “I like to believe that a writer should always keep some things up for interpretation,” he replied.
Nick made a face. “Stop treating this like one of your plays. It isn’t one. You can’t just go around doing whatever you please.”
“You’re acting like you wouldn’t do the same.”
“I would not!”
Will snorted bitterly. “Nick, don’t go pretending that you’re not just like me. You want glory, you want fame, you’d do anything for it, don’t lie to yourself.”
Nick reddened. “I am nothing like you,” he gritted out, and then in some act of desperate fury he threw the handkerchief, which he’d still been holding, at Will’s face.
It slid down slowly and began falling to the ground. Will caught it midfall as his eyebrows shoot up. He pinched it between his fingers and examined it for a moment, before he didn’t direct his gaze back at Nick. “Wow, how very mature of you,” he drawled slowly, just for some emphasis. He put the handkerchief on the table behind him.
Nick stared back, looking rightfully embarrassed. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but then he closed them again. In the end he just made some noise that sounded a bit like ngh. In conclusion, nothing comprehensible.
Will bit down a smirk. Although barely. “What? You’ve got nothing more to say for yourself?”
“Maybe,” Nick declared. “Maybe I’m done with this.”
Despite that he made no indication of leaving. Will regraded him, wondering if he planned to just stand here for the next hour or what.
“How did you like the play?” Nick at last gritted through his teeth.
Will smiled in amusement at that sad attempt of pretending that this was in any way a regular conversation. “Maurice you mean? It was better with me in it, obviously, but I didn’t completely die of boredom, so you can have that.”
That apparently wasn’t an acceptable form of flattery because the expression Nick made then was anything but appreciative. “You always know how to say the nicest compliments, seriously.”
“I’m just being honest with you,” Will answered, shrugging. “From what you’ve just been telling me I thought you liked honesty.”
That seemed to have been a wrong thing to say as well. “I swear to God, you never change!” Nick began. “And you know what? I bet now you’re just going to get more and more unbearable. That much attention can’t do any good to anyone. And especially to someone whose ego is already as fucked up as yours is.” He went further into his usual Nick rant. Will always thought that Nick rants were adorable. He had never especially paid attention to their contents, but it was a pleasure to just be a witness of one.
He stared as Nick, who high on his rage, listed all the things that will be or were already wrong with Will, and also somehow manged to bring up all the things that were wrong with the entire theatre industry too, and with the entire society actually.
And although Will was having a lot of fun with their current state of interaction, he knew there was one other thing he wanted to bring up. So he decided that it was high time to cut in, no matter how endearing the whole spectacle was. “I brought you something,” he said.
Nick stopped talking at once and looked at Will like he’d just told him that the moon had been replaced by a giant pot of stew and everyone was welcome to try. “I’m sorry, did I hear that right? You brought me something?”
“Yes,” Will said, smirking at the reaction. “Yes, I brought you a parting gift, since we’re parting.”
Nick blinked. “Is this serious? Are you being serious right now?” And apparently coming to the conclusion that it was, in fact, serious, he turned to an expression of distrust. “Is this supposed be your form of an apology?”
Will rolled his eyes. “No, it’s a parting gift, I just said it’s a parting gift.”
Nick gave him a sceptical look. “I’ll consider this an apology,” he concluded. “And you are so very not forgiven.”
Honestly, the audacity. “Why would you say that then? You could thank me, at least?”
Nick firmly ignored the first question. “I have nothing to thank you for yet,” he said. “For all I know that ‘gift’ will be a sketches of your fucking face or your ‘hit’ sonnet with your stupid signature on it.”
Will snorted. “I should’ve done that, that would be pretty funny.”
“It wouldn’t. You know it wouldn’t be.”
“Whatever you say.” He reached to his bag he’d been carrying the whole day. At least one relief was born from this, that he could finally dispose of that blasted weight. Even if Nick was being all rude about this, and not at all grateful like he should’ve been. Although, Will suspected that that was soon to change.
At last, he pulled out the object, attentively watching Nick’s reaction.
“A book?” Nick remarked. He got hold of it, carefully brushing his fingers over the cover. He cast a suspicious look onto Will before finally opening it, somewhere in the middle.
Will shouldn’t, but for some reason he felt anticipation waiting for him to realise what was on these pages, maybe even a bit of excitement.
Nick was frowning, flipping through the pages. “Isn’t that-” He scanned the text. “That’s-” He pointed. Then he skipped to the front. He looked at Will, then at the book, then back at Will, then back at the book. “That’s my folio,” he let out in disbelief. “All my plays. There’s- there’s The Uncertain Spirit and- and Pyramus and Thisbe and Maurice the Cheesemaker, of course… all of them, printed out, bound!”
Will nodded, encouraging him to go on.
“It’s like- like a proper book!” Nick opened and closed it and turned it over and over again in his hands as if from different angles he could see some completely new marvels. “With my name on it!” he said excitedly, pointing at the first page.
One could use countless fanciful metaphors to describe someone and beautify reality, and Will couldn’t say he had never done this himself, but he didn’t exactly hold that idea in high regard either. Yet, right now it wouldn’t be any fanciful to say that Nick’s eyes were sparkling. He turned page after page, scanning each line and each word with obvious wonder.
And for a moment Will found himself oddly mesmerised by that sight, feeling something almost like… fondness? Probably not fondness, since he didn’t even like Nick that much in the first place, but it was an odd sensation, nonetheless.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this to you of all people, but this the sweetest gift that anyone has ever given me.”
Will really tried not to preen, but he just couldn’t help it. “Is it?”
“Yes, it is,” Nick stated with determination.
“And aren’t you feeling so grateful right now?”
Nick raised his eyebrows, but instead of marks of irritation that Will expected to appear at his words, there was just this weird air of warmth. Warmth so unexpected that Will’s heart took it personally and hammered in his chest just a tiny bit faster.
“So that was your plan, huh?”
“What plan?” he asked with feign innocence.
“I didn’t go to see your play, I didn’t get you a ‘parting gift’, so you did all of this to rub it in my face that you are so much nicer than I am.”
Will didn’t even bother to hide his self-satisfied grin. “You bet I did.”
“Well done, then! Bravo! You did it, you successfully rubbed it in my face.” Something in Nick’s tone didn’t exactly match the sarcastic words. His hands were still tightly gripping the book, and he was glancing at it and at Will back and forth, an unreadable expression on his face.
And then, before Will could even ask what was going through that pretty head of his, Nick leaned in and straight up kissed him.
It was a short, careful sort of kiss, that wasn’t quite casual but also wasn’t long enough to not leave the recipient yearning for more.
When he pulled back, Nick’s eyes went wide with something akin to alarm, as if he himself was surprised with the turn of events. He began mumbling some words that were probably supposed to be apologies, but they quickly died down in his mouth when his gaze dropped and landed on Will’s lips.
At this very moment Will made two very surprising discoveries.
One, that maybe the whole book gift wasn’t at all about rubbing anything into anyone’s face, but maybe he’d done it in the first place, because it was actually pretty nice to look at Nick being all pleased.
And two, that he was, in fact, yearning for more, and God, he needed Nick to kiss him again.
He was just about to voice the second sentiment, but Nick was already cautiously crossing the distance between them, with a question painted in his eyes. Then they were just a breath away from each other. And when their lips brushed, Will gave in without another thought.
He found the fabric of Nick’s shirt with his hands, and by grasping it he pulled him closer to deepen the kiss. At that Nick made an adorable sort of sound, which was followed by a different sound, similar to a one of a book’s falling on the ground. Then Nick’s hands were on Will’s body, caressing his back, his arms around his waist. And, well, if Will said it didn’t feel good, he would be lying.
It felt a little too good, actually. It made his chest ache in an unfamiliar sort of way. And every gentle touch or movement of lips only intensified that sensation.
He had always considered kissing to be a light pleasure, something he could do to entertain himself for a while and then forget about it. But right now it didn’t feel light at all, it felt like the hottest dizzying feeling in the world, and he couldn’t get enough of it.
It sort of felt like biting into the sweetest of plums during a warm day, or like finding just the right word for a line in a sonnet, that had exactly the amount of syllables needed, and it rhymed with the word two lines prior flawlessly, and it also sounded nice, and- okay, maybe not that good, that feeling was unmatched.
It was ridiculous, making up stupid comparisons for some stupid kiss but- oh, Nick just bit into his lip.
Comparisons, right, comparisons, what was a comparison again? Will’s mind wasn’t exactly corresponding with him anymore. It seemed like it was now completely and utterly occupied with Nick and Nick only. Nick’s careful touches, and his kisses, and the way he hummed softly into them. And how so very nice it all felt.
Maybe it had some point in that.
He found his hands moving up, he brushed his fingers through Nick’s hair. Pushing him closer, if that was even possible. Damn it all, Will needed this, he needed Nick to kiss him until he couldn’t breathe, until the only thing he could feel was his lips. If only he could do that, it would feel like an antidote for some kind of sickness Will hadn’t realised he’d developed.
Okay, so maybe if he actually had always fancied Nick just a little bit, there was absolutely nothing wrong with that. He had never given it much thought. There was a lot of people one fancied an inconsequential amount without giving it much thought. Unless not until that person was kissing you, and suddenly it was obvious that it was never inconsequential.
It was Nick who was the one to pull away first. Maybe for the best, because Will wasn’t sure if he would be able to stop.
For a moment they just breathed, still close yet not looking at each other. It was clear some tension had to melt away first before they could even entertain the idea of getting back to talking. Not that there was a chance for a normal conversation anymore, not after whatever this had been.
Will finally allowed his gaze to wander up. Nick’s face was a shade redder than a tomato. And when they locked eyes, it somehow got even redder. He looked completely and utterly flustered. Will thought it was sweet. “You really do know how to thank a man,” he purred, and grinned when it caused Nick’s breath to hitch.
“Not another word.”
“You should’ve done this a long time ago, we would’ve had so much fun.”
“I said not another word.” Nick stepped back then, which forced Will to release him from under his arms, his hands abandoning their post threading through his hair. He tried to not to think about how everything in him protested against the action.
Instead he smirked, giving Nick his most entrancing look. “Aww, Nicky, are you embarrassed?”
“Fuck off,” Nick responded, boring his eyes into the floor, which was actually equal to conceding the point.
But soon he glanced up, looking like he wanted to say something more, but in that moment they both heard a creak of the wooden door in the distance. They turned their heads in the direction. Someone was by the entrance.
“Nick, are you still here?” called a voice from the outside. Despite the walls drowning out the sound Will recognised it as Peter Quince’s. He must’ve came here purely with one intent of hastily retrieving Nick, because he didn’t even bother to enter the tavern.
Nick’s eyes widened a bit more, and he made a slightest bit of space between Will and himself. “I am,” he called back. “What is the matter?”
“We were just hoping you would join us to celebrate.”
“Ah- yes, uh, in a few minutes,” Nick answered hesitantly, casting Will a chary glance. “You don’t have to wait for me.”
“Alright,” Peter answered. He seemed to have taken the hint, because soon enough the door closed, and they were alone once more.
Will raised his eyebrows at Nick, doing absolutely nothing to hide his amusement. “Your troupe and you, you are celebrating what exactly?”
“A successful performance.”
“You mean those seven people who came to see it?”
Nick made a face. “God, I hate you so much.”
“Oh, yeah, you’ve just made a perfect display of that, a few minutes back,” Will murmured, fiddling with sleeve of Nick’s coat. That go him a glare. But when he leaned in for a brief kiss, Nick was far from protesting.
When the kiss was broken, he looked a little dizzy. “That- that before was just a moment of weakness,” he muttered a little too confidently, staring at Will’s lips.
“A moment of weakness, huh?” Will kissed him again, because apparently he could. And then again and again. It was sort of addictive.
Nick responded to each and every kiss and with each one got a little closer.
And they were on the verge on melting into each other again, Will was sure. But when he felt that intoxicating heat returning, Nick suddenly shuddered and pulled back, his eyes somehow wider than before.
His breath was uneven, but soon enough he regained control over it. And with it, apparently, some small bits of his reason. He put a hand between them, pushing Will back lightly.
“Enough,” he said quietly, but the word sounded forced in his mouth. He swallowed and turned his gaze away, looking just so slightly miserable.
It was that miserable expression that really dismantled Will. It was almost abnormal on Nick’s face, and yet so earnest. He found it striking him right between his ribs, and it nearly felt like he shared it too.
And he didn’t know- he had no idea what to make of this, of this momentary feeling that was foreign but also somehow familiar. And of those kisses which still lingered firmly on his lips.
Well, he did what he’d always done best, he suppressed it all swiftly.
Somewhere in the middle of trying to distance himself he stepped back, but he stubbled when his feet were meet with something solid on the ground. He looked down, just to see Nick’s book lying beneath them. Right. The culprit of this whole mess. “Nicky.” He pointed. “Your book.”
When Nick followed his gaze he gasped. “Oh, good God, how could I forget!” Will had never seen anyone pick something up from the ground so quickly.
When the book was in his hands, Nick immediately began brushing off any possible dust scrupulously. “I’m so sorry,” he spoke to it softly, while looking a little too overly concerned. “I hope you can forgive me for that.”
Will observed him, trying not to feel too charmed by this absurdity. But his mind had given up on being sensible some time ago, now, and bringing it back to its original state wasn’t exactly easy. “Cute,” he muttered.
Nick looked up at him and blushed, like it was the height of compliments. Maybe his mind wasn’t cooperating with him, either.
Then he shook his head in some form of puzzlement, seemingly at some thought of his. “I still can’t believe you tried revenging on me by giving me the most thoughtful gift I’ve ever received,” he said, the corners of his lips rising just the tiniest bit. “You really are quite something, Will.”
Will leaned back against the table, “But I did get my revenge, didn’t I? I know that you’re so embarrassed right now.” Nick’s handkerchief still lied abandoned there, he noticed. He absentmindedly picked it up.
“Not for the reason you wanted me to be,” Nick said, giving him a meaningful glance.
And as they locked eyes, and Will felt his chest tighten. He wished they could stay like this for longer. Maybe Nick would reconsider and forget about that stupid celebration thing and stay here with Will for a few minutes more. Or a ten hours, preferably.
Nick reached to brush his finger against Will’s arm, like a gentle sign that he knew, like he understood what Will meant when he looked at him like this. But did he really? Will ignored the warm feeling that this small, seemingly meaningless gesture caused.
“I have to go. They are waiting for me.” Nick seemed so reluctant when he said it, but at the same time he sounded decided.
“Won’t you invite me?” Will asked, knowing perfectly well what would be the answer.
“It’s for troupe members only.” He received a dry response back.
“Too bad,” he muttered cheekily. “I suppose it is our time to say goodbye then.”
“Yes, it might be,” Nick agreed.
Will leaned closer, giving him an overly sweet smile. “It was such a pleasure working with you.”
That got him an eyeroll. “I know you don’t mean it, asshole.”
“If you wish to make up ill intentions then so be it, I can’t stop you.”
But Nick didn’t really react to that, like we was supposed to react, by biting back. Instead he stared at Will for a moment more, his brows knitted. “Will.”
“Hmm?”
“You really were a shit actor.”
Will couldn’t help but snort. “Thank you, Nick, such lovely farewell.”
Nick ignored him, clearly set on what he wanted to say. “Still. I’m so happy I got to work with you.”
Will didn’t get to answer anything to that, because exactly after those words Nick kissed him. And it wasn’t an impulsive kiss like the first one, or heated like the rest of them, it was deliberate and just gentle and felt so oddly... bittersweet. It made something burning hot go through Will’s veins. And it was not that pleasant kind of hot, no, this hurt. All he could do to bear it was to clench that wretched handkerchief that was still under his fingers.
Then Nick pulled back and smiled, so very sadly. “But it might be the time to go our separate ways,” he finished.
And everything in Will was begging him to do something, to do just about anything to keep Nick here, right in this moment. But he didn’t. He just shrugged. “Quite right,” he said, with what he hoped sounded like nonchalance.
They gave each other a nod and then, then Nick left. Left and closed the door behind himself.
Just like Will was supposed to do, close those metaphorical doors behind and never look back. Right…
He felt an odd ache settle in his chest, which was ridiculous since not an hour ago, he had felt nothing but glee at the prospect of leaving this shitty life behind.
It was not like he cared about any of this, about any of those plays, or that pathetic troupe who was just going nowhere and nowhere no matter how much time had passed, and he most definitely didn’t care about Nick.
Nick who ranted a little bit too much, but it was always so endearing, Nick who was such a god-awful terrible playwright, but still was so determined to make it work, Nick whose eyes had sparkled with excitement at some silly book, Nick who, in the end, had looked like he maybe hadn’t wanted to leave at all, like maybe he cared.
Will buried his head in his hands, disappointed with his own nonsense. “What the fuck,” he muttered. What was he even thinking about? There was this bright lavish future waiting for him and instead he went around minding about what Nick Bottom had to say.
Idiotic.
Maybe he was a little infatuating in his own way, but there was nothing deep about that. Didn’t Will already know that any feeling was always merely an illusion of a straying mind? And that there was nothing veritable about it if one were to think about it for even a minute? Nick was simply a passing fancy that he was going to forget about as soon as he would free himself from this prison of sentiment. And then he wouldn’t even spare a single thought on him. That was all that was to it.
Well.
Didn’t mean kissing him wasn’t nice.
Will smiled to himself. Actually, it was very very nice.
He pressed his fingers to his lips and closed his eyes, letting himself relish the feeling for a second more. Only he knew there was no replicating the real thing. He probably would never have another chance to do that.
He broke himself out of this ludicrous dream reluctantly, slowly falling back into reality. It was time to go.
He sighed, run his hand through his hair, and finally stood up straight.
And he was just about to leave, when something caught his eye.
Seemingly unmoved by everything it'd witnessed today, and now almost falling off of the table, was Nick’s handkerchief.
Will inspected it, for a moment considering what to do with it. Nick was probably going to come back here later looking for it, wasn’t he?
What a shame he wasn’t going to find it.
Will stuffed it in his pocket. After all, he deserved a little parting gift as well.