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Will was staring. He knew he was staring. But he kind of couldn’t stop. He also kind of had a right to stare when something so unimaginable, absolutely shocking, unbelievable was happening just before his eyes.
It was usual for him that whenever he didn’t assign himself a major role, he spent most of the play standing in the wings and observing the audience. It was fun, seeing people gasp in the right moments, laugh in the right moments, cry in the right ones. They mostly did everything in the right moments, because Will was very well versed in getting whatever reaction he wanted of them. And if they didn’t do it in the right moments, well, it was clear they weren’t very educated individuals.
Today was supposed to be no different. It was just a regular performance of Julius Caesar. With Rich Burbage as Brutus, Will knew it would be an entertaining watch. He never really said it out loud, but he had to admit, Rich was good. Almost scaringly good sometimes.
It was obvious, of course, that Will was even better. But he could hardly watch himself, could he now?
He was already done with his part, and now the only thing left was to relish his standard form of entertainment. And he did, for maybe about quarter of an hour.
It was until he saw him.
Right there in the crowd, standing, and seemingly enjoying himself just like anyone else here, was Nick.
Nick was in the audience, paying attention, laughing at the right moments, and gasping at the right ones. Maybe not crying. Well, they didn’t really yet get to the moments that required crying.
Nick Bottom came to see one of Will’s plays.
Huh, now that was interesting.
Not that it was surprising that someone could have a change of heart and realise just how much they were missing out not seeing these. But the thing was, Will knew Nick. And Nick was probably the most stubborn and unchangeofheartable person in the whole wide world.
Maybe it was just someone who was very very similar to him. Someone who carried himself just the same, and had the same shit sense of fashion, and same stupid huge eyes.
Yes, that surely was it.
Only even that thought didn’t particularly hold Will back, and that’s why now he was staring.
For the rest of the play, he couldn’t focus, at all. Not on the performance, not on the audience. Which was actually exasperating. But a part of him was a little excited too, by the prospect of Nick being here. By the prospect of Nick specifically choosing to see this performance. He was definitely aware that Will would be here, wasn’t he? That only made sense. And in turn this idea only made the whole situation all the more rousing.
When the play came to an end, and Will was once again surrounded by his company, he sacrificed only a few seconds to flatter them, and then promptly got back to his observations.
Most of the audience had left already but Nick was thankfully slow to do so. The entire theatre was filled with only about two or three dozens of people, among whom, most were already heading towards the exit too. Will would rather talk with Nick without that much going on around them, but he couldn’t miss the spot before he wouldn’t leave either, so, at last he made himself abandon his hiding place.
He descended from the stage to the pit, ignoring the calls he got from enthusiastic fans on the way, and stopped only when Nick was not a few strides away. “Hi,” he heard himself saying, just a little breathlessly.
Nick froze for a second, then turned around, a grimace already on his face. “Will,” he gritted. “What do you want from me?”
Will sent him a sugary smile. “Just came to have a chat.”
“Who said I wanted a chat with you?”
“Who doesn’t?”
Nick rolled his eyes irritatedly. “I, for one, would rather swallow dirt than talk with some arrogant asshole, who thinks he’s some kind of literary genius. Some people just don’t have any common sense!”
Will gestured towards the exit pointedly. “Well then, go. Go, and swallow your dirt. I’m not going to stop you.”
Nick didn’t move, staring at him stubbornly.
Will grinned. “So…” He allowed himself to step even closer. “Shall we continue our chat?”
“Sure, if you like talking to yourself,” Nick only replied snappily.
And wasn’t it a time as good as any to finally investigate a little? “You see,” Will began, “I had this brilliant idea. What if I ask people who see my shows what they thought of it. Maybe they have some suggestions for changes perhaps. Could be pretty beneficial, don’t you think?”
Nick snorted at that. “Sure. Like you’d listen to any suggestions.” He threw Will an acid look. “Here’s a suggestion, you should-“ he broke off, almost as if he was trying to come up with something clever on the spot but was failing. Which, heavens, was just so adorable. “You should- you should probably just fire yourself,” he ended lamely, clearly dissatisfied with himself.
“Thank you for this insight, honey, very helpful. I’ll note that. See, talking to my audience members can work out great,” Will said, putting special emphasis on the important words.
Nick’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh. Oh, so you think I’m here for you and your bullshit?” He made a sound that was very close to a laugh. “In your dreams.”
“Nick, you just watched my play. In my company’s theatre. I performed. I was there in the fourth act,” Will reminded him. “You saw that, didn’t you? There was a lot of cheering.” People always cheered when he got on the stage.
Nick shrugged. “Didn’t really pay that much attention to that.”
“Then why are you here?” asked Will, actually a little bemused now.
Nick grew quiet for an oddly long moment. Then he cleared his throat. “I heard Richard Burbage would be performing as Brutus today,” he muttered.
Will, not exactly sure he’d heard that right, hummed enquiringly for him to repeat.
Nick made a face. “As Brutus, today, Richard Burbage,” he said a little louder, looking away to the side.
“Burbage?” Well, now that was a pretty peculiar reason, Will had to admit, didn’t feel especially in character. “I suppose he’s decent.”
Then something very fucking weird happened. Nick, whose expression had begun as and through the entirety of this conversation had remained sour, suddenly perked up, a flush climbing on his face, as he very obviously bit back a smile. “He truly is,” he said, his voice sounding strangely nervous.
What the fuck.
“What I meant to say was that he’s terrible,” Will immediately corrected himself.
Nick completely ignored him, almost as if he hadn’t even been listening in the first place, almost as if he had been only awaiting to bring this subject up to someone. “The way he conveys emotions,” he went on, staring off to space, “I’ve never seen anyone do it quite like him. He brings them down just to the right level, where they feel so raw.” Then he looked straight back at Will, but his eyes were misty now. And this wasn’t a Nick-looks-at-Will look at all. This was fucked up. “Don’t you agree?”
“Do I agree??” Did Will agree? Will didn’t know. Will had other things to think about right now. He probably didn’t anyway. Did it matter?
But apparently an answer wasn’t really what Nick had been seeking, because he just continued. “And he makes the characters so fleshed out, so complex, even if the text is… not too good. He works it all out!”
All Will could do was to observe this completely foreign phenomenon with mix of shock and terror, rendering him completely speechless.
What in the actual hell was happening?
Was this- was this how an infatuated Nick looked like? Was he infatuated? Did Nick have a thing for Richard Burbage???
“You know, when my play becomes a hit, I’ll surely have him as my main character. I’ve already been picturing it!” Oh, and he had fantasies about him. Great! “It would be perfect! His name on the banner. It would draw crowds. And then, he would give a wonderful performance! Alongside me and my troupe, of course!”
Nick was as if completely detached from reality, he barely even insulted Will throughout this entire conversation! Well, at least barely by their standards. And now that was very fucking rude.
Will was feeling more and more helpless by the second. All he needed was to somehow regain control over this situation, have at least a speck of Nick’s attention for himself, even if only for a minute. He just needed to do something about this.
He took a couple of steps forward, which in turn forced Nick to take a few back. So now when Will placed his hand on the wall behind him, he had Nick positioned right against it. “So, Nicky...” he purred.
And, thank goodness, heavens, holy spirit and everything above, it somehow worked. Nick’s gaze went right back to him, his eyes a little wide. “Hmm?”
Will allowed himself to smile lazily. “Are you planning to come here more often then?” he asked. “Wouldn’t mind seeing your pretty face in the crowd.”
“Better not, you’d get too distracted and forget your lines,” Nick said so flatly and in a tone of voice so painfully indifferent, that it could hardly be classified as flirting. Despite that Will did feel some sort of form of accomplishment. It was definitely a thousand times better than that weird, riveted Nick, he’d experienced a moment ago. That stupid line of his was actually even a little hot, made Will want to dig into this talk further. But then everything went down in flames when Nick added, “Perhaps I will, to see Burbage perform again.”
“Yeah…” Will said faintly. “Right.” He nodded. “Right...”
“Or did you have a different reason in mind?” Nick asked, one eyebrow raised.
“Obviously not…”
“No?”
Will shook his head. “No.”
Nick let out an irritated huff. “Well then,” he waved his hand at Will, indicating he should move out of his way. “Aside. I should get going, anyway. I’m evidently just wasting my time here.”
Will complied without a word of protest. There was nothing he could fix here anyway. This was a completely hopeless case, it seemed. “Have a great day,” he muttered, not bothering with any enthusiasm.
Nick grunted something unintelligible back and threw Will one last look, before he didn’t leave.
And what on earth was Will supposed to make of this? He was so confused. And kind of alarmed. Mostly alarmed. Very alarmed. It was just that nothing made any sense here.
Was it all really about Richard Burbage?
Will knew that just as him, Rich always got a lot of attention. Popular among women and men, he could pull just about anyone if he wanted to. Will had never minded much. He had his admirers, Rich had his, often the groups mingled. Everything existed in harmony. And Will even supposed he had nothing especially against some of his fans swooning over Rich. He supposed he understood in some kind of way.
But Nick?! Nick fancied him?!
Not that it was in any way important to Will, not that he cared.
But also what did Rich have that he didn’t, hmm? Just from a completely neutral, not caring point of view. What exactly he was he doing to draw so much of Nick’s attention? To get such a reaction out of him? He was just an actor. And Will was an actor and also a poet. That was one thing more.
“Excuse me?” A voice teared Will away from his musings, making him flinch in surprise.
“Yes?”
Before him stood a short woman, the hem of her red dress sweeping the ground beneath her feet, her cheeks the exact same colour as the fabric. She was holding up a small book and a quill towards him, the tone of her voice full of excitement when she asked, “Could you sign this, please?”
Will stared at her for a second. He wondered if Nick would behave the same way if he was asking Rich to sign something for him. Maybe… Probably… Oh, god.
But if it were Will instead, triggering a similar response in him? Just like this woman over here, Nick flushed by the mere prospect of speaking with him. But that almost felt like it wouldn’t really be Nick, would it? Nick didn’t act like this with him. And anyway that would be stupid. That was not at all how their dynamic went. Will liked how their dynamic went, but also… the idea of Nick going blushy because of him did some unexplainable things to him.
“Could you?” she repeated, now a little uncertain.
“Right... Right! Of course, darling.” He swiftly took hold of the offered book and quill, and absentmindedly began scribbling his signature in it. It was a collection of his sonnets. People really adored them, didn’t they? Presumably mostly for how earnest they felt. Sure, they had been written for a fictional love interest, but still no one could deny the level of their emotional quality. And wasn’t that truly a testament to his talent? That he could forge those feelings from thin air? That all of that could come from his imagination and nothing more?
“Do you think I lack something?” he asked.
The woman gave him a confused look. “I’m sorry?”
“Do you think there’s something imperfect about me? I’m perfect, aren’t I? There’s no reason not to adore me.”
“I… Well, of course…” She furrowed her brows. “I don’t think I understand… But, yes, naturally… I just-”
Will sighed and handed her back the book. “Nevermind.”
He hoped returning backstage to his company would distract him somehow, from whatever that irritating conversation with Nick was. So he did just that, trying to hold on to that hope.
But as soon as he joined them, everyone scattered around the place, talking and sorting things out, his eyes landed right on Rich. He stood deep in a chat with few other members, looking completely unmoved, maybe slightly too contented. And Will felt himself only grow all the more irked at the sight.
He approached, going for as nonchalant as he could be. But as soon as he spoke he heard his own voice turning sharp. “Rich.”
“Will?” Rich turned to him. He probably had sensed the sharpness because his eyebrows were already shooting up.
“I see you’re in a good mood.”
Rich shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Perhaps you should be thinking about corrections you could apply to your performance.”
“Corrections?”
Will waved a hand, as if dismissively. But the look he directed at Rich was aimed to warn. “I thought you should’ve been a little more expressive in the argument scene.”
At that Rich took a step back, his eyes widening in exasperation. “I was! In the rehearsals! And you told me tone it down!”
“Well, I changed my mind,” Will said, concerning himself more with cleaning up the dust from under his fingernails, than whatever expression Rich was wearing right now. Although he did feel an inconvenient twinge of guilt when he said, “Perhaps I could be Brutus next time, so you could see what I’m talking about.”
Rich stared at him, clearly done. “You can’t just do that! I hold more shares in this company than you do. You can’t just take role away from me, idiot. And what the fuck has gotten into you? You seemed fine after the show?”
“Nothing has gotten into me. I just made some reflections.”
“Well, pox on your fucking reflections.”
Will was ready to bite back, when a voice interrupted him. “Fellas, fellas!” Will Kemp approached them, shaking his head disapprovingly. “What’s this arguing about? What happened to your chirpy dispositions?”
Rich snorted. “Yes, Will’s chirpy disposition, that we all get to experience every day.”
“I’m pretty sure you get to experience the very best of me, honey. And I am, in fact, plenty chirpy.”
“Yes, isn’t he? So chirpy and cheerful, he’ll write us a new comedy soon, won’t you, Willy?” Kemp said in a sing-song voice, wrapping his arm around Will from the side.
God, why did he have to be so annoying? “Piss off, Kemp, you’re not funny,” Will said, trying to push him away.
Kemp feigned a dramatic gasp. “If I’m not funny, then what am I?!” He only tightened his grip around Will’s shoulder, rising his free hand, up to heavens. “But a mere gust of wind, invisible to an even eye, or dust swept to and fro by merciless storms. Not here I say, but I fly, fly, fly.”
Will rolled his eyes. “Fly, yes, that you are, a fly. And by my troth, a fly that pleads a squashing, it so buzzes in my ear.”
He felt his spirit rising just a bit when heard some snickers from the back, undoubtedly a reaction to his retort.
Kemp didn’t seem particularly discouraged by Will’s words. He only shook his head again. “Come on, Will, we’ll get you a drink, you’ll feel dandy in no time.”
“Chirpy,” Rich corrected, the corners of his lips rising just a tiny bit.
That got him a grin from Kemp. He dragged him closer too, arms around him and Will both now, leading them forward. “You two make up with each other, because I don’t feel like getting drunk with a bunch of dickheads. Understood?”
Will and Rich exchanged bitter looks. “We’ll see about that,” Will muttered.
Kemp rolled his eyes in response. “I suppose I’ll have to get drunk with at least one dickhead anyway. Right… Dick Burbage?”
“Will is right about just one single thing,” Rich muttered. “We might have to kill you.” But the expression he sent towards Kemp wasn’t too sharp. Actually, it was more of a smile than not. And some part of Will really didn’t like that they were both still somehow enjoying themselves. Especially, when he wasn’t enjoying himself at all.
But, in the end, he let himself be dragged to the closest tavern anyway, despite not being certain if going wouldn’t actually spoil his mood even further. It was not even too nice of a tavern, it was so insufferably dull. He considered leaving as soon as he stepped in. But he was practically forced to stay and get and least one drink. And he had to admit that as soon as alcohol filled him, he felt himself loosening up.
The colours of the wooden walls seemed to have brightened. He could somehow tolerate Rich’s presence nearby. And even Will Kemp’s terrible jokes suddenly came off as a little amusing. Not that we was truly listening to them, but the bits and pieces he heard were unexpectedly bearable.
Unfortunately, he soon learnt that the bitter aftertaste of his earlier interaction with Nick remained intact. Because he sort of couldn’t stop thinking about it.
The thing was, he was pretty sure he had never seen him like this, infatuated. Bleh. And for it was worth he’d seen Nick in all sorts of states. There had been ups and downs, and joyous victories, and moments of silent contemplation, days filled with misery, evenings filled with laughter, and Will had been there to be a witness to it all.
And then he hadn’t been. Then the only brief contact he had with Nick had become sporadic jabs and raillery they pursued with each other, only on occasions of accidental encounters. But there was something oddly significant about that consistency, oddly sweet, that even if it could never be like it had been, they always somehow gravitated towards each other anyway, for better or for worse.
For worse, probably, seeing the matter from a perspective of an objective eye. But objectivity was of no actual substance when it came to matters rooted so deeply into someone’s life that it sometimes hurt to think about them.
Will really didn’t like that it hurt. Will liked when things were simple and straightforward and didn’t bear any actual weight. But this never had been, so he supposed he had got used to it in a way.
But, god, he wasn’t at all used to this. Whatever that was.
It stinged that it was Rich who got those looks from Nick, that he got him to flush and get all nervous, and talk about him as if he was something exceptional, when Will hadn’t ever, when Will-
That really couldn’t be anything else, could it? That had to be infatuation.
Because something rang so familiar in those expressions Nick made, something hit so uncomfortably close to home in those blushes. So palpable and recognisable only because Will wasn’t an entire stranger to them.
Most of the time he wished he didn’t remember. The remaining time, which usually fell at nights, he let himself reminisce, bask in those memories that to daylight Will seemed the most embarrassing thing of all.
It was all just that drifting notion, that sometimes got too close to him and plagued his mind.
Nick sitting by a desk, brows furrowed, leaned over a mess made of paper and ink. Will staring and unable to stop. And feeling that humiliating heat in his cheeks. And his heart racing for no apparent reason. And having his mind go places.
But that had been years ago, and also completely untrue. And besides right now it was daylight Will, and daylight Will didn’t want to think about this. Not at all.
God, was he really that drunk that he was beginning to get all disgustingly soppy and sentimental? Apparently.
All of a sudden he didn’t feel like the alcohol was loosening him up at all. Maybe he simply need to drink more. Or maybe he couldn’t stand being around those people right now. Perhaps what he needed was a distraction, or a change of scenery.
“I think I might take a stroll somewhere else,” he muttered absentmindedly to John Heminges who seated beside him, had spent the last hour staring at the wall. He had always been a silent kind of drinker.
John regarded him with a frown for a moment. “Not too keen on us, today, are you?” Somehow the tone of his voice sounded like he was hurt.
Will sighed. “Honey, I didn’t think I have to go around charming any of you.” But despite those words he still made an effort to straighten up, and then he gave John a look. “This isn’t anything personal. I was just thinking of maybe looking around and finding someone, you know?” he said, easily slipping into his enticing demeanour. “Unless you take it as an insult to your name that I will be leaving you behind?”
“Oh, no, no, do as you please,” John immediately protested, looking caught off guard. He laughed nervously. “Forgive me, alcohol makes me say stupid things.”
“Happens to the best of us,” Will comforted him, aware that everything John had said perfectly corresponded with reality. He wasn’t planning on correcting him though.
He levered himself up from his chair. “Right.”
He truly didn’t particularly feel like “finding” anyone, he just felt like drinking alone. Although, alright, maybe not completely alone, that would just feel sad. He could find some shitty tavern, where most of the patrons were way too drunk to even begin recognising him, and happily bring himself to the same state as them. He applied this practice sometimes, on particularly shit days, and it never once failed him.
He felt a few questioning looks on himself as he was leaving, but he paid them no mind.
And thank goodness, the mere walk from one tavern to another had turned out to have a trace of refreshing qualities. Somehow some of that agitation he bore, began fading away. And he felt himself getting even better when he finally stepped into the different establishment. This one, even if absurdly loud and filled with people he didn’t necessarily ever wanted to get acquainted with, made Will feel more at peace. Something about the warm lights everywhere, and the general atmosphere of anonymity, felt so welcoming.
He pushed through the crowd to get to the counter. At the other end of the room awaited the peace he was looking for. He was almost there.
But then he stopped dead in his tracks.
There, on one of the stools sat an all too familiar figure.
Nick.
Right.
So the last person he wanted to see right now.
Will sighed. And then naturally walked up straight towards him.
“Hello, Nicky,” he drawled, as he took a seat next to him, settling himself comfortably, ignoring the weight that crept over his heart.
Nick stiffened a little in surprise, and when their eyes met, he let out a frustrated groan. “God, please no. Why do I have to see your fucking face again? One time in a day is already enough to make me want to fucking vomit.”
“Hello to you too.”
“You already said hello,” Nick muttered resigned and then took a generous sip from his cup. He seemed pretty tipsy already, which was actually great, because that meant they were both tipsy, and that usually promised a lot of entertainment.
Will leaned towards him, assuming his signature smirk. “So, pray tell, what someone as handsome as you is doing in a place like this?”
Nick seemed completely unaffected by the words. “I’m pretty sure this is exactly a place that a person of my social status would be paying a visit to. And what I’m doing is I’m drinking here,” he replied drily.
“Fun,” Will remarked. “Mind if I join you?”
Nick opened his mouth, looking ready to protest. But Will was already waving the bartender over before he could even say a word.
“I’ll have what he’s having,” he said, pointing at Nick. It got him a bewildered look, but the man complied anyway. Soon, a battered cup filled to the half, was being placed before him.
“This will be the worst thing you’ve drunk in your life,” said Nick, looking very amused at the prospect.
“Pff, I’m sure I drank worse.” He took a sip, let it wash his tongue… He spit it out immediately. He stared at the mysterious content. Now that he was properly looking at it, it kind of looked exactly like piss with bits of leaves floating in it. The thin layer of foam wasn’t even close to enough to cover it, and it somehow just made it look even more like piss. And was there something moving in there? “What the fuck even is this?”
“The cheapest ale in the cheapest tavern in London,” he heard Nick saying. There was a clear grin in his voice, almost as if he was delighting in Will’s suffering. He definitely was. “Cheers to that.” Nick clinked his cup against Will’s and drank some more.
Will teared away his eyes from the liquid before him, his gaze drawn to Nick. He tried to restrain a smile, but he failed miserably.
“Cheers,” he echoed, and made himself swallow a bit of whatever that was. He grimaced as it burned its way through his insides. He was pretty sure one of the weird leaf thingies sticked to his throat, exactly where his tongue couldn’t reach. But somehow he couldn’t even bring himself to care that much, because Nick was sort of glancing at him now, and it was raising his morale.
After that Nick didn’t especially made any effort to chase Will away, probably because he was too drunk to care at this point. But Will took it as an invitation to gab as much as he desired.
Despite initially thought of as unwanted, Nick’s presence manged to brisk him completely. Also, it was probably the alcohol. Definitely the alcohol. Probably both Nick and alcohol in an equal measure. Both equally necessary.
And in that state of intoxicated relaxation, Will found himself telling Nick of absolutely anything and everything his mind came up with, of troubles with patrons and actors, and of plays they were planning to preform, and of dinners he had to attend, that he didn’t necessarily want to attend, and of the ones he did want to attend, and of a lot of other things he forgot as soon as he mentioned them. All that while he progressively got himself drunker and drunker with that horrible ale. At some point it had started to taste not that horrible at all. Maybe Will could even see how Nick drank that regularly. Speaking of which, Nick who had been drinking too, somehow still tolerated all of this. His commentary, that he had in fact graciously provided, mostly consisted of him rolling his eyes, telling Will that he deserved everything awful that came his way, and, once, that he wished someone would stab him in a dark alley. And it was almost like heaven was on earth.
“You know, I’ll probably do Brutus in our next Julius Caesar,” Will informed him, swaying a little dangerously to the side. To regain balance, he braced himself on the counter, accidently knocking one of the empty cups that stood before him.
“Okay?”
“So, will you come to see it?” he muttered hopefully.
Nick raised an eyebrow. “Why- why would I?”
“Thought you liked it.”
“Are you stupid?” Nick slurred and didn’t wait a second for an answer. “Of course you are, I already knew that. Why am I even asking?”
Will pouted.
“I told you, very explicitly, that I went to see it not because of you, but because Richard-” Nick hiccupped, “Richard Burbage was there.”
Will stared at him, displeased. “Oh, fuck Richard Burbage,” he muttered, mostly to himself, but he made sure it was loud enough for Nick to hear.
“What’s your problem?” Nick frowned, looking genuinely irked now. “You two work together, constantly. You can’t just say shit like this, especially when it really must be an honour-”
“You fancy him, don’t you,” Will cut in, pointing an accusing finger at him.
Nick instantly turned scarlet red. “I do not,” he said a little too fast.
Will let out a half bitter half amused laugh. “You absolutely do, I could see the way you looked at him, the way you talk about him.”
“I just admire his talent,” Nick declared stubbornly, his blush only gaining on colour.
“There are other actors who are as talented or even more talented than him, and I don’t see you raving about them.”
Nick raised a sceptical eyebrow. “And who exactly are these other actors?”
“Well...” Will rested his chin on his hand, turning to an expression of feign innocence. “You might not know him, bit of an underground name. But maybe you’ve heard.” He reached with his other hand to brush off some non-existent dust from Nick’s shirt and then let himself grin properly. “William Shakespeare? Does that ring a bell?”
But Nick, truly go to hell with him, instead of acting like he was supposed to and getting all irritated, stared at Will for a moment, his eyes widening. “Will, are you-” He then laughed disbelievingly. “Are you jealous?”
Will drew back. “No, I’m not.”
But Nick wasn’t even listening. “Are you jealous of me giving attention to someone else than you?” He gave Will a searching look, like he was trying to find the answer right in his eyes.
But the answer certainly wasn’t going to be there. Will did his best to conceal any traces of emotions that his face potentially could betray, unfortunately the alcohol wasn’t doing him a favour in this regard.
“You are,” Nick concluded, now sounding more than bemused. “You are jealous of me fancying someone.”
“Ha! So you admit you fancy him!”
But Nick only waved him away, his own previous embarrassment forgotten. “Why on earth would you be jealous of that? You? Why? Are you an idiot?”
Will made a face, only feeling confused. “What is that supposed to mean? How am I the idiot in this situation?”
Nick buried his face in his hands with a deep sigh. “Look, Will, you’re an asshole, you’re ridiculous, and self-centred, and I can’t stand you sometimes. And he is, I guess I don’t really know him that well, but it’s hard to be more annoying than you are. The thing is, if he disappeared from my life nothing would change.”
“Honey, I’m so sorry, but you’re really not making any sense.”
“What I’m trying to say, is that he is charming, but you... you... I... God, I hate you.”
“Yes, I think I understood that one, Nicky.” Will supressed an eyeroll.
“No, you do not understand,” Nick said, peeling back his hands from his face. He wasn’t wearing a flush or that nervous expression Will wished he could see, but instead he stared at him with an equal amount of frustration and something entirely else Will wasn’t sure he recognised. It was something very firm, something that, in a weird way, sort of resembled that smitten look, but at the same time was so very far from it. “He is just someone. And we-” he waved a hand between them, “we’ve known each other for years, and- and- it’s different.”
Will stared at him blankly, his comprehension skills a little too far off, swept away with the ale, for him to understand this.
“God, you still don’t get it, don’t you?” Nick asked, looking impatient.
And then, without waiting for a reply, his hand, clumsily flew to rest on edge of Will’s chair, as he shifted closer to him. Will’s skin prickled when Nick’s fingers accidentally brushed against his tight, as he observed him drawing so near he could feel his warmth on his skin.
“I’m definitely going to regret this tomorrow,” Nick muttered with resignation. Then he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Will’s cheek.
Will held his breath.
Nick kissed him.
He tried processing that idea, that illogical notion, and everything that was happening, the warmth, the touch, the non-existent gap between them. Something began to click.
Oh. So maybe he did understand now. “So- so it’s like that?”
He received a soft affirmative hum as a response.
“You, ah… hmm.” Right, yes, of course, it was. It was like that.
Nick didn’t move away after that, instead he pressed a kiss to Will’s face again, this time just a tiny bit closer to the corner of his lips.
Will was feeling dizzy. And burning, he was feeling like he was being set on fire.
Nick pulled back, just so slightly. His face was right in front of Will’s now. So close.
He was drunk, they were both drunk, Will reminded himself. This was most likely some improbable lie, alcohol was subjecting them to.
And yet the look Nick was giving him didn’t seem like a lie at all.
“Remind me again, what am I doing?” Nick murmured. He was staring at Will’s lips.
“Proving a point,” Will provided helpfully.
“Which-”
“Which is- very important. To prove a point.”
“Yes, very important.”
They crossed the distance.
It was a single, gentle, lingering kiss, that caught Will’s heart in restraint. And it tasted like everything he’d ever wanted, it tasted like veiled devotion that could only be recognised up so close, one that had taken some peculiar abstract form a long time ago and yet was still undoubtedly present.
Nick drew back, his face actually red now. Will couldn’t take his eyes of him, feeling significantly more sober than before, his breath caught in his throat.
Perhaps if it were someone else, and if it were a different affair, he wouldn’t be sitting here unable to say anything meaningful, perhaps he would try to take this further. But it wasn’t. And one couldn’t just behave like it was and go making a frivolity of an event so… important.
Nick exhaled, something resembling dismay already on his face. “God, we’ve drunk way too much,” he breathed.
“Oh no, darling, I think it was actually a perfect amount,” Will said, feeling his own voice as if it was an eternity away from him.
Nick’s eyes lingered on him for a minute more, something in his expression softening. Will tried to take in ever single bit of that sight, knowing that all too soon it would disappear, replaced by the usual grimace and dismissive eyerolls. But just how indifferent and irritated Nick was by him really? Maybe not as much as it appeared. How strange it was to think that maybe, in the end, it all had always mattered.
“It’s getting late,” Nick at last said, and then stood up. “Right. Right, it really is. And I’m going, I need to go now,” he announced, looking off to the side. His cheeks once again turning a darker shade. He made a face, looking flustered. He gestured at Will. “And I hope you have a…” He waved his hand in the air, as if trying to indicate what was supposed to go next, “…an awful night,” he finished.
Will rested his chin on hand and allowed his lips to stretch in a small smile. “Likewise.”
Like a fool, he followed Nick with his gaze through the entire tavern, right until he closed the door behind himself. And even after that he stared at the exit for a second longer.
He slowly raised his hand and traced his fingers over the passage of his face where Nick left kisses on.
Huh.
Now, come to think of it, this certainly wasn’t something Richard Burbage was getting.