Archive of Our Own

On Saturday morning, Will has a routine. He gets up quickly, avoiding the silence of his room. They still haven't gotten him a new roommate, most likely since it's low on the list of priorities since the Wild Hunt attacked. He hurries through his regular preparations and leaves his room, the halls echoing and empty. He's not good at sleeping in late, a habit he suspects he's had since his life. In the dining room he eats, just as rushed as every other motion he's gone through so far. Then he grabs a plate and loads it up with an obscene collection of deserts--cream puffs and cobbler and mousse and cake--and heads towards the nurse's.

Ada’s awake when he gets there, like always. Her gaze is fixed on the window and she's staring out at the orange sky, gnawing at one of her still-blackened fingernails. She's complained many times about the side effects of the withering on her appearance. Personally, Will is just relieved they've managed to stop it enough for her to live.

When she sees him, she perks up. A contrast to Will, whose shoulders sink. He can never really relax until he sees her. There's always that small, nagging worry that he'll go to some lesson or class event and come back to find her consumed by the sickness again. Thankfully, today, she motions him over.

“Thank goodness you're here, Nurse Dolly is being incredibly unreasonable. I mean, for goodness's sake, she let Lenore go days ago but she wants to keep me here for another night, nevermind the fact that I am perfectly fine now. You'll tell her I'm fine, right?” she says, inching over her legs so he has room to sit. A month ago, before everything that's happened, she probably would have shrieked at the thought of letting a man onto her bed. Will would have been equally confused by the idea of willingly visiting her.

But, well. It started during the first days when everyone went to check on her slowly dying body. Will went along because it was the right thing to do. And Morella said that there was a chance the patients could hear them, so Will tried talking to her. It was awkward at first. But, eventually, speaking to the passed-out girl he barely knew became a comfort. And then she woke up and he realized it was even better when she was able to respond.

She's the only one who treats him normally. Since the attack, Montresor and Prospero keep looking at him oddly. He doesn't understand why. He's acting as normal as ever, but sometimes he smiles or says something and they just stare as if they don't recognize him. Prospero's lips curl into a thin, uneasy line. Montresor's twist into a snarl. Ada might be haughty and cruel, but she's never stared uncomfortably at him. He suspects it's because she paid so little attention to him before that she doesn't notice any possible differences, real or imaginary.

“She just wants to make sure you're safe,” he says, pushing that all back. Ada scowls.

“Wants me cooped up is more like it. This sweets ban is killing me faster than the withering. What have you brought me now?”

He holds the plate out. She ooohs and grabs a cream puff.

“So, how was class yesterday?” she asks.

“Awful. Miss Poppet sent us into this ocean thing? There was a lot of glass and large, terrifying animals.”

“Ick. I'm not excited to get back to all that.”

“We could partner up?” he offers. His heart clearly isn't in it. Ada raises an eyebrow.

“No thanks, I can just get Annabel and Prospero to go with me,” she says. Will's shoulders sink in relief.

Which is quickly shattered when Ada adds, “Wouldn't want to drag you away from your precious Monty.”

He stares at her, his blood going cold because there's no way she knows, right? It's just Ada’s regular disdain for Montresor. It's not possible for her to know.

She's glaring down at her strawberry cake, stabbing it into little pieces with a fork. Will relaxes. She doesn’t know.

“Don't waste food,” Will blurts out. One of many old habits from life. He regrets it when Ada turns her withering glare to him instead.

“I'll waste whatever I want to, it's not like they can run out,” she sneers, but she eats the crumbled up pieces of cake anyway. The topic is, thankfully, dropped.

***

Montresor is still strange around him. Will isn’t sure how he feels about his behavior lately. He can never really meet Will's eyes, but he doesn't lash out as often. They team up during lessons--although that's mostly because Annabel Lee and Prospero are attached at the hip these days--and he does what he can to get Will out mostly unharmed. He's... well, nice isn't the right word. Not awful, maybe? More similar to the early days of their odd little relationship, during and directly after the maze. Back when Montresor would goad Will into carelessly insulting their fellow classmates, and Will was always ready to turn back and greet him with a too-soft smile, desperate for his approval.

That hasn't changed, at least.

There's one day where, in the middle of a hectic lesson, Montresor pulls Will through a storming desert and into a small, cramped cave. Will sits with his legs folded beneath him, careful not to touch the other man, no matter how much he wants to.

“You panicked,” Montresor says gruffly, clearly disappointed in Will's performance. Will bites his cheek. He can't keep failing like this. He has to be better, or Monty won't want to keep him around.

“I don't like sand,” he confesses into the stillness.

“That's a lame fear,” Monty responds.

Will chuckles. “Yeah, I guess so.”

They’re quiet for a bit. Will traces a finger through the dust collected on the ground. He hates the way it clings to his skin. He draws a little flower, then a mouse.

Drawin’s for sissies, boy. Don’ bring that into this house.

He scrapes a hand over the little doodles until there’s a neat, clean square in front of him. When he looks up, he swears he sees Montresor quickly glance away.

Neither of them say anything. But they don't leave the cave until the storm has passed and Montresor never comments on his embarrassing habit of drawing pretty, girly things. He still has no idea what prompted this change, only that Montresor isn't quite as mean to him anymore.

Ada, thankfully, picks up the slack.

The day after she's released from the nurse’s, she shows up to his achingly empty bedroom with several sharp knocks on his door.

“Finally. I thought you'd leave me out there forever,” she says, waltzing inside before he has a chance to speak.

“What are you doing here?”

“This vanity is atrocious. The one they gave me and Annabel is much better, but I suppose that's because we're girls. Do you really have no decorations up? I mean, seriously, even Prospero has a few of his favorite books.”

“Er, Ada?” Will says.

She sighs heavily. “Annabel disappeared this morning and the boys are cooped up in their room, so you're my only option.”

“How kind.”

“Yes, I try. Don't you at least want to pin up some drawings or something?”

“Stop judging my interior design.”

“It's not like there's much to judge.”

She ends up on his chair, and Will on his bed, talking about nothing. At first he’d unthinkingly offered for them both to sit there, only for Ada to sneer and ask him what kind of lady he thought she was? She manages to sneak an insult into every other sentence. Will smiles through them as always. At some point, they'd stopped feeling cruel.

There's something familiar in the roll of her eyes, the smug smile she flashes him sometimes. He only places it after she leaves, gone with the chime of the curfew bell. She reminds him of Montresor.

Not exactly, of course. There’s a stark difference in Ada’s haughty scoffs and Montresor’s gritty, drawling words. But there's something in the way they both insult Will while still seeking out his company, the small barbs in their sentences.

Maybe there’s something wrong with him. Regular people don’t crave closeness with someone who’s horrible to them. Or at least he thinks so. He doesn’t exactly have much knowledge of normality. But Annabel and Prospero’s friendship is clearly based in respect, and all of Lenore’s friends seem constantly overjoyed to see each other. Maybe this issue stems from the parents he doesn’t remember, a childhood he's long forgotten. Or the siblings. He had...13 of them? 14? He’s not sure. 

He’s not sure Ada even cares about him, or if she’s just always there because he’s easy. It’s not like he’ll ever refuse to let her be around when the other option is sitting in an empty room in silence, waiting like a dog for the moment Montresor seeks him out again.

***

It starts as a normal lesson. Screaming, fear, demerits. At some point, they’re running beside a girl. She keeps up well, even as she huffs breathlessly. But the horde of vicious plants gets closer and closer and in one sudden move Montresor shoves her back into its waiting maw. Will should be horrified, scared, disgusted. Instead, all he can feel is Montresor’s fingers against his wrist when he drags him from the plants. He lets go the moment they’re in a clearing, but the skin he’d touched is still tingling. 

He pictures the girl’s wide, terrified eyes for a moment. He can’t bring himself to care about her, not when Monty is willingly touching him. He traces the delicate skin of his own wrist and has to restrain a smile.

(God, he’s pathetic.)

They walk for a bit before they--quite literally--bump into Annabel Lee, Prospero, and Ada.

“Oh, it’s just you,” Prospero says. Will can’t figure out if he’s disappointed or happy.

“Have either of you figured out the goal of this whole mess?” Annabel asks. Will shakes his head.

“Reckon it’s just to make us suffer,” Montresor says.

“Well,” Annabel says, clearly stumped and not enjoying it. “We should at least stick together.”

And that’s that, because no one ever questions Annabel’s decisions. Will isn’t ashamed to admit it’s because he’s a little terrified of her.

Ada drifts to his side.

“Are you doing well with Annabel and Prospero?” he asks.

She shrugs. “As well as I can, I suppose. Certainly better than you.”

“ ‘Scuse me?”

“Do you not understand subtleties?”

“You’re not very good at communicating them.”

“You look horrible. What happened to your jacket?”

He glances down. She has a point, he can count at least five tears. He lies through his teeth, “It’s fashionable.”

They fall back into their regular bickering easily as Annabel leads the way, Prospero and Montresor exchanging insults behind her. It forces him to realize, very suddenly, that they hadn’t really done anything all together, the five of them, since Ada had been freed from the withering. It’s disconcerting how natural it feels.

“You don’t know the first thing about fashion.”

“And you do? I’ve never seen you outside of your uniform.”

Ada scoffs, crossing her arms. “This is not how you treat a lady,” she says haughtily.

“Are we sure you qualify as a lady?” he says. She hits him over the head. He yelps and shoves her back. He doesn’t realize the others are watching until a second too late.

“Damn, Ada, are ya already moving on to your next man?” Montresor snipes at her, looking distinctly unhappy. Will frowns, confused on behalf of his new... friend? Are they friends?

“Look who’s talking,” she responds. “Hypocrite.”

Montresor scoffs. Annabel Lee and Prospero exchange an exasperated expression. Will doesn’t stop them, doesn’t intervene. Like always.

“Seriously?”

“Just saying, I’m not the one that bounces from girl to girl and toys with their emotions.”

“No, you just like men who don’t want you back, dontcha?”

Prospero stiffens uncomfortably. He looks a bit angry as well, which is confusing in its own way. Then again, there have been a few times when Will walked in to visit Ada’s unconscious body to find Prospero reading to her. He doubts she would have enjoyed any of the books, they were all things about ancient history and human emotion. But it was sweet. Sometimes Will would sit and listen too, idly braiding Ada’s hair and undoing it. It was peaceful.

He’s not sure they’ve had a proper conversation since Ada woke up but, if they have, it’s enough to make Prospero protective over her, the same as when he punched Montresor for laughing when the withering started. However, whatever irritation he feels is nothing compared to Ada, whose eyes flare dangerously.

“You piece of-”

She takes a step forward and, instinctively, Will grabs her arm to hold her back. Everyone freezes. Will freezes, unable to believe he’s done that.

Montresor is the first to move. He turns on his heel and storms off down the path. 

“He’s going to die out there,” Annabel sighs. “What a fool.”

She follows, albeit reluctantly, which calms Will’s fears. Annabel is terrifying. She won’t let Montresor get hurt.

Prospero stays behind, glancing between them. Will realizes he’s still holding onto Ada and hurriedly lets go, wiping his palms down on his pants. Is he sweating?

“There isn’t anything between you two, right?” Prospero asks, although he doesn’t sound happy to question them.

“No!” Ada says, aghast.

“No need to sound so offended,” Will mumbled. She waves him off.

“Am I not allowed to have friends?” she grouses, crossing her arms over her chest.

Prospero nods sheepishly. “You’re right. Come on, let’s catch up to them before they get eaten.”

“I wouldn’t complain too much about that,” Ada says. Prospero snorts.

“Don’t be mean,” Will says. They both glare at him, but they usher him along beside them as they continue through the strange, definitely-cursed forest. Prospero knows the names of many of the toxic plants and he lists them off for their entertainment. Will asks questions about whatever he can think of, and if neither of them know the answer Ada makes something up. It’s... nice, oddly. Remind him a bit of that peaceful, safe hospital room.

And yet. He glances down the path, where Montresor disappeared, and swallows down his more-than-normal concern. He’ll be fine. He always is. He's the strong, invincible one. And Will is the trainwreck. He’d known that from the moment he was dragged out of the maze and stared up at his golden, glowing eyes. A worshipper to an altar. Will has always known his place in their one-sided friendship. He can’t let himself forget that.

***

He does not recognize the knocking instantly but, in his defense, it is the middle of the night. He stands blearily, blinking away sleep, and finds Ada.

“It’s midnight,” he says.

“Nightmares,” she says, her voice hoarse. He holds the door open so she can slink in. In the dark, he watches her fumble towards the spare, unused bed. He could light the candles to make it easier. But he doubts Ada would appreciate it. The darkness feels safer.

“Have you not gotten them before?” he asks.

“Usually Annabel helps but she's... gone, somewhere. She sneaks out some nights.”

“Isn't that against the rules?”

Ada scoffs outright. She doesn't dignify his question with a response.

“I don’t like sleeping,” she admits eventually, her voice a whisper. “It makes me feel like I’m back there again. Everything is either empty or... worse than that.”

“I don't really dream,” Will says. 

“Really?”

“Yeah. I'm not sure why. It's just like... something is missing, I guess? Whatever would cause the nightmares.”

“But awful stuff has happened to you. It's happened to all of us.”

Will bites his lip, not sure how to explain this. “Yeah. It just feels so far away.”

“Hm,” Ada says. She clearly doesn't understand. Will doesn't either. His disconnect from his own memories, from whatever horrible things he's endured in his short afterlife... it's just as concerning as Ada’s mental disturbances.

“I dream about the dogs, sometimes,” he says eventually. “It's the only memory that's clear.” A nightmare for a nightmare.

“What happened to you during the attack?” Ada asks. “I’ve never really asked.”

“You were a bit preoccupied, to be fair. And... I don’t really know? I got seperated from Montresor at some point, I think. I lost a shoe. It’s very blurry.”

“Hm,” she says, contemplative. “Odd.”

“Everything about that night was odd.” He turns to look at her. All he can make out is her silloette, slightly illuminated by faint moonlight. She’s staring at the ceiling. “Why did you come here?”

She’s quiet for a bit. Almost a full minute. Will waits.

“It was so quiet in there,” she says, finally. “I don’t know where I was but I was there for a while and it was so... lonely. Being around someone else helps.”

Will thinks of his bedroom with its lack of decorations and strange emptiness. Of a small, cramped house filled with people and somehow still feeling all alone. He gets it.

“So you found me?” he says, but it comes out as more of a question than anything.

“You were my only option.”

“How sweet. And you’re not worried about what people will think?”

“Prospero sleeps in our room sometimes.” She’s avoiding the question. Most likely because the answer is yes but she’s too desperate to care right now. “Besides, are you going to run around telling everyone you got me in your bed?”

He can feel her glare on him even through the darkness. “N-No! Of course not.”

“Good.”

“...Does Prospero really sleep in your room?”

“We usually make him take the floor.”

“Why?”

“I dunno, Montresor snores or something.”

***

He’s wandering through the halls one day, bored out of his mind, when he rounds the corner and is met with Montresor perched by a window. He looks up at him, them quickly glances away.

“No Ada?” he says cooly.

“She’s with Morella. We're not together all the time, you know,” Will says.

“Right,” Montresor scoffs. Will frowns. He doesn't get whatever issues he has with Ada. It would usually make sense considering their very unpleasant break up, but he's pretty sure Montresor didn't even like her very much. And yet, since she's been released from the nurse's, he's been awful.

Or, well, he's always been awful to her. Will thinks of that moment, weeks ago, when he forced her to get on the floor and bark. Remembering it makes him squirm uncomfortably. Would he still help with that, if Montresor asked now?

(He knows the answer.)

“Can I sit?” he says.

Monty nods. Will moves beside him, trying not to let his eagerness show. He probably fails miserably, but Montresor isn’t even looking at him long enough to notice.

Please, just turn to me, please, he wants to beg. Despite everything, he wants to fling himself at his feet and weep desperately for his attention. He bites his cheek.

“Class again tomorrow,” he says. Montresor grunts. “Hopefully there’s no plants this time.”

He shudders. There’s no response. He turns to his friend. He’s looking down at the courtyard, where people are catching the last glimpses of sunset. It illuminates Montresor’s face, highlights the harsh lines of his crooked nose and cheekbones. Will swallows.

“Did you break your nose?”

“When I was alive, I think. Don’t remember.”

“Why do you always partner with me?” he blurts out.

Montresor turns and finally, finally looks at him. “What?”

“I-I mean, I’m not really useful. You keep having to save my butt in these really dangerous situations. So, why me? You have better options.”

He waits, fingers digging into his pants, as Monty just stares at him.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Stupid question.”

He stands to go, but Montresor grabs his wrist before he can. He lets go just as quickly. It’s the same one he grabbed before.

“Queenie’s insane, Prospero’s a wet blanket, and Ada’s a bitch. You’re the best of a bunch of shitty options,” he mutters, not meeting Will’s eyes.

“Oh,” Will says. Against all his better judgement, he feels his heart fluttering. The insults towards the others don’t matter, could never matter in comparison to the knowledge that Monty wants to partner with him. He values him more than all their other, stronger group members. He swallows thickly.

He glances back out the window. Somewhere far below, he can make out Ada and Morella’s heads bent over, talking about something. Lenore is with her gang of misfits, including that guy they put in a wall once, goofing off by the stairs. Annabel Lee and Prospero are nowhere to be found, like always. And Montresor is here, allowing Will to take up space beside him, touching his bare wrists, giving him reassurances for his ridiculous questions.

“It’s a nice sunset,” he says. Monty grunts. Will can’t manage to bite down his smile this time, so he just prays Montresor doesn’t turn and see it.

(His prayers go unanswered, like always, but he never catches the look in Montresor’s eyes when he does.)

***

They’re wandering through the abandoned town when they find the room. A cradle with a decapitated baby doll in it. It’s disturbing, and Will hears Annabel’s concerned mutters behind him. They quickly turn into very concerned questions when Ada turns and promptly throws up in the corner.

She disappears the second they’re back in the classroom. Will finds her curled up in a corridor he doesn’t remember seeing before, staring blankly at the wall.

He sits and waits, fiddling with his hands. It’s only a few minutes before he blurts out, “Don’t like dolls?”

Ada retreats further into herself. He almost curses. He’s made it worse, like always. This time, he shuts his mouth and manages to wait five whole minutes for her to speak.

“I was pregnant.”

He jolts. She hasn’t moved other than the slight twist of her lips. “What... happened?”

“I died.”

It’s not the full truth. She doesn’t offer any more information. Will wants to ask, but he bites his tongue, reaches over, and rests a hand on her shoulder. She leans into it and awkwardly, clumsily, he fumbles his way into something comforting. It’s a weird hug that he doubts is a comfortable position for either of them, with his elbow digging into Ada’s side and half her limbs trapped against the wall.

Ada sniffles against his shoulder. He doesn’t say a word and, when she finally stands up, quickly offers her a handkerchief.

“Is this monogrammed? Did it come with your uniform?” she says hoarsely.

“Uh, yeah, think so.”

“Of course. Knew you couldn’t afford this.”

In a flash, all her vulnerability is gone. Will finds himself selfishly relieved.

***

Ada is in his bed this time. It’s become routine, apparently, for them to do this ever since the doll incident. Will isn’t sure how he feels about it. His and Ada’s friendship is one of convenience. Will hated being alone on the weekends and she hated Nurse Dolly’s nagging. They were less likely to get injured during lessons if they were in a group. They both had nightmares so they slept in the same room. It’s a strange, unspoken thing. Where Montresor mocks her and Will never jumps to her defense, and she squashes rumors about them because it would be embarrassing for her reputation, not because she cares about his feelings. 

This strange intimacy is unnatural. Laying in bed, both wide awake, their arms an inch from brushing. Where Ada chooses coming to his room over staying in her own, always with some excuse about how she can’t sleep with Annabel and Prospero’s gossiping or how she doesn’t want to wake them. It becomes less and less believable with every night she appears at his door with her brisk, ladylike knocks.

He isn’t used to being the first person someone picks.

“Why don’t you want to be with me?” he asks. Because from everything he thought he knew about Ada, this should be where she makes a move. He’s terrified of having to reject her.

She groans. “Really?”

“I’m curious.”

“It’s because you’re pathetic.”

He blinks. “Ouch?”

“It’s not an insult.”

“It sure feels like one.”

“Maybe it is, a little. I just mean... I like being your friend. And you don’t seem interested in me at all. Baffling, considering I’m such a catch.” His heart jumps a bit with that same old fear that she knows, before she continues on. “But I don’t really care about your opinion of me. You have nothing to offer. I don’t want your approval or validation.”

Several things about Ada come into perspective all at once. When he glances over, she’s staring at the ceiling.

“Oh,” he manages.

“Yeah.”

“Then... what kind of boys do you like?” he says awkwardly. He’s heard his sisters talk about this before (or at least he thinks he did). There’s a memory somewhere there of them packed into their shared bed, giggling over who looked at who today. It feels like the right thing to say but, then again, he’s never exactly been friends with a girl.

Ada doesn’t respond. He waits several seconds. Then, softer, “Ada?”

“I like-” she cuts herself off. “I don’t know,” she says as if it’s a confession. Like Will can somehow cure her of sins he doesn't even understand.

She doesn’t look at him. Her hands are shaking where they’re clasped over her chest. Will fumbles to take one, and she grips it tightly. Slowly, her tremors die down. 

“Tell me something good,” she says, suddenly.

“About?”

“Anything. Your life, things you like, whatever.”

Will thinks of summers outside in the blistering heat beneath the sun. The faint memories of children's voices, skipping rocks, before it was shrouded in brown and dust and quiet. Staring up at the clear, pretty sky and closing his eyes at its brightness.

“My favorite color was blue,” he says.

“Mine was pink.”

“That's nice. Why do you want to know?”

She pauses. “We could die tomorrow.”

“We're already dead.”

“Yeah. Exactly.”

Will's about to ask, and then he thinks about how they've been doomed from the start. Only one person will make it out of this and he knows it won't be him. This could all end in a week with bloodshed and tears and Will could die for good, but at least he'd die knowing that one person out there cared enough to remember his favorite color. 

They fall asleep before he has a chance to ask another question, and Ada is gone by morning.

***

They’re sitting around their usual table. Annabel is helping Ada get her food. It’s one of those days, where the remnants of the withering act up and she struggles to move alone. Prospero always says she should stay in, but she glares at him and snaps that she is not being confined to a bed again, thank you very much.

So, it’s just Will, Prospero, and Montresor. Will is busy shoveling food into his mouth as if he’ll ever eat again, which just leaves the other two to talk.

Thankfully, it seems that sharing a room has softened them to each other, since they’re sitting in companionable silence until there’s some commotion on the other end of the room, two of Lenore’s people bickering over something. 

Prospero frowns. “They’re very loud.”

“Too rowdy for you, posh boy?” Montresor says.

“Just a bit. I much prefer being around you all,” he says. Then adds, “Although that is a very low bar.”

Montresor scowls. Prospero turns, and Will swears he sees him hiding a pleased smile. He pushes his licked-clean plate away right as Annabel Lee and Ada appear. Annabel glances towards Lenore’s table with some odd expression, but Will doesn’t get a moment to think about that before Ada is circling to sit by his side. He even misses Montresor’s eyes tracking her movements.

“Those crowds are awful. I mean, really, has no one in this school learned about personal space?” she complains. Prospero raised a pointed eyebrow, and she flushes. “Don’t start that now, you know what I mean.”

“I do, actually. Everyone keeps touching you. It’s unpleasant,” he says.

“Are you squeamish?” Will asks. Prospero shrugs.

“Something like that. I suspect I was a doctor, once, so that might contribute,” he says.

“A delicate doctor? How’d you get any work done?” Montresor says.

“I’m not quite sure.”

Ada hums and slips the hand not holding her fork into Will’s. It’s odd behavior for her in public, but when Will looks over to see her heavy eyebags and slight shaking, he lets it go.

Montresor, however, doesn’t. He lets out a loud, irritated scoff that immediately has Ada’s eyes flashing to him.

“What is it now?” she says, exasperated.

“Just a bit interested in this new development,” he says.

“How many times do we have to say there’s nothing going on?” Ada says.

“There isn’t, serious,” Will tries, but one glance from Montresor cows him into silence. He lets them fight instead.

Ada continues, “And besides, how come everyone is asking about this but no one says anything about Annabel Lee and Prospero running off together all the time?”

Annabel blinks like hearing her name has dragged her back into this conversation, and Prospero sighs heavily. Will winces, already regretting everything.

“Probably because she doesn’t cling to him like that. You really don’t care that she’s dragging you around like some prized poodle in an oversized bag?” He points a finger at Will, who is too baffled by this turn in conversation to respond.

“It’s not like you’re any better. And I hardly think he’s a poodle, more of a stray dog,” Ada says.

For some reason, that’s what makes Montresor’s face twist oddly with some emotion Will can’t identify. Then he’s stalking off with a loud slam of the dining room doors.

“Must you always fight?” Annabel sighs after several loud moments of silence.

“He started it,” Ada mutters darkly.

A few days ago, Will heard one of the girls whose name he's never bothered learning ask Ada if they were together now. She'd laughed cruelly and said, “Will? Goodness, no. He's too whiney and soft for me. I couldn't ever.”

It made him feel better, at the time. Ada would deny a relationship for her own reputation and ruin Will's in the process, and he'll laugh when Montresor calls her a bitch and let him yell at her during dinner. They're evenly matched.

***

There are confessions in the dead of night.

Ada talks about strong, powerful men who would hold her. About being a maid and trying to claw her way up by using them (and suddenly Will understands why she always eats every bite of cake like it could be her last, why she nods along when he talks about saving resources and the scarcity of money). Mostly, she doesn't say much. She always stops herself before she can.

There's one night where she's laying on the other bed because she couldn't stand being touched today, whispering into the silence, “I dated my boss.”

“Oh.”

“I liked it, I think. Maybe liked it too much, in the wrong way.”

Will's not sure he knows what the wrong way is.

“He didn't like me very much,” she adds, her voice soft as if she's admitting this to herself too. “He killed me. Sometimes I still feel his hands on me but I can't remember what exactly they were doing.”

“Was it his baby?” Will asks.

Ada’s silence is his only answer this time.

On another night, this time while they're both in the same bed, they're laughing. Ada is telling him a story about a boy she tried to date in school who stuttered through the whole date, and Will is responding with his own story about a girl who had a crush on him for three years, who he never even noticed.

“Oh, but of course she liked you, you're a catch,” Ada laughs breathlessly, that usual mocking tone in her voice.

“Hey! I'm a great pick,” Will says. Saying it aloud in his moonlit room, surrounded by Ada’s presence, makes it easier to believe.

“Mhmm,” she hums. “I'm more shocked you didn't jump on the chance. Most guys would've.”

There's an odd shift in her voice that Will can't place, so he just shrugs and says, “She wasn't my type.”

“No?”

“Nah.”

“What, was she too blonde? A ginger and you like brunettes?”

He probably says it for the same reason Ada told him about her boss. Or maybe the opposite reason, because her arm is pressed against his and he can see the glint of her eyes in the shadows and she already thinks he's pathetic.

“It’s ‘cause she was a girl.”

It slips out so easily. Years and years of hiding, gone in a flash. It makes him wonder how he swallowed it back in the first place.

There's silence. Will can feel his heart in his throat.

“Are you saying you like...” she can't say it. She's giving him an opportunity. He could take it back.

But he can't.

“Fellas. Yeah,” he finishes for her. Ada is quiet for a second before she gasps and sits upright.

“And you- oh my God, were you trying to get with Montresor? You- you boyfriend stealer!”

“Was he really your boyfriend?” Will snarks back instinctively. Ada shrieks and lunges, hitting him with her pillow. He wrestles her off, already knowing his neighbors will complain in the morning but unable to stop his own laughter because someone knows. Ada knows. And she doesn't care.

(It's more than that, but he never does glimpse the relief on her face.)

And then, always, laying breathless and still giggling with their heads pressed together or staring at the same ceiling at opposite ends of the room:

“Tell me something good.”

Will liked peach cobbler.

Ada could sew.

Will was scared of spiders.

Ada loved the rain.

Will's favorite flowers were lilies.

Ada hated reading but loved math.

And on and on and on. No one else will remember the tiny, insignificant things. So they will, and they’ll hold them close to their hearts until they inevitably stop beating for good.

***

Will honestly doesn’t mean to get injured.

It’s just that they were trapped in a room of armor that moved and shifted in the shape of men who tried to stab them. Will had glanced across the room at Montresor, pinned down by a sword to the neck, and known he had to do something. Next thing he knew, there was blood coating his stomach, he was shaking, and the world went dark.

He’s not sure why it’s happened now, of all times. They’ve been doing this for weeks with nothing more than the occasional scrape. Maybe he’s gotten sloppy, too willing to risk his life when he knows Dolly and Poppet will heal any injuries. After all, it ruins the fun if any of them die before the big finale. Especially with how few of them are left after the Wild Hunt attacked.

So, it’s not at all surprising to wake up in the nurse’s, feeling like absolute shit.

Will sits up with a wince, rubbing at the wound on his stomach that seems mostly healed by now. He’s not sure what Dolly uses on them, but it works remarkably fast.

It is even less of a surprise to feel Ada grip his shoulder and hiss out, “Careful, idiot.” Which is a shock in itself.

He snorts.

“You’re in a good mood for someone who just got stabbed,” she says. Will’s guilt catches up to him when he sees the bags under her eyes.

“Sorry,” he says, sobering up. “How long have I-”

Ada rolls her eyes. “A day. And please, it barely affected me. Just let me skip out on another ridiculous lesson.”

He reaches behind himself to straighten out the pillows. “You could help, you know,” he says when he sees Ada watching his struggle.

“You kept both your arms, do it yourself,” she retorts, leaning back in her hospital chair. Once he’s settled, Will finally glances around and his eyes land on the first real surprise of the day.

Montresor is here. Slumped over in the other visitor’s chair, a few feet from Ada, clearly asleep. Will blinks, but he’s still there when he opens his eyes.

“He didn’t want to leave. Clingy asshole,” Ada says.

“He did?” Will blurts out, traitorously hopeful. The panic hits for a second, the fear that she’ll know now before he remembers that Ada already knows. And she’s here, rolling her eyes at his useless crush and making fun of him. His heart settles back into its normal rhythm.

“Mhm,” Ada says. “You freaked him out, I think.”

Will turns, waiting for her to say more, but she hesitates.

“Come on, you have to tell me,” he complains.

Ada groans. “Okay, Jesus, just don’t send him after me if he asks. He completely freaked out. We showed up in the classroom again and he was just... holding your body. There was blood everywhere. It was so quiet. I think- I think he started yelling at some point but I was a little...”

She shrugs and just says with finality, “It was scary.”

“I’m sorry,” Will says, even though he knows he would have done the exact same thing all over again. Ada just shrugs again, because she knows that too. He says, trying to change the subject, “It’s weird to be on the other side of this.”

“Tell me about it. These chairs are awful, how did you spend so much time in them?”

“Used to it.”

“Oh, I bet. Poverty must have been rough.”

“Look who’s talking.”

Their bickering is interrupted by a muffled groan. They turn in unison to see Montresor stirring, rubbing at his eyes as he sits up. The moment he sees Will, they snap open. His hand jerks towards Will, and then he pulls it back just as quickly.

“Will,” he breathes out. Something about his voice is different, but Will can’t place it.

“Hi,” he says, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry about all that, it was pretty stupid of me, huh?”

That unfamiliar look in Montresor’s eyes disappears and he scoffs.

“You’re right about that. You two gossiping while I slept?” he drawls, turning his gaze towards Ada. Will can already feel his skin going cold without the burning heat of Montresor’s attention.

“Of course not, that’d be improper,” Ada says. Instead of the insults Will’s come to expect, Montresor just groans.

“Right, of course. I’m gonna-” His eyes flicker to Will, just once. “I’m gonna get food. Starvin’. ”

And he’s gone in a second, whisking through the doors. Will groans and flops down.

“I’m pathetic,” he says, his voice muffled by a pillow. Ada doesn’t respond, so he tosses it towards her.

“Hey!” she complains. “Do you want me to disagree?"

“Just say something. You’re kind of the only person I can talk to about this.”

Ada sighs. “I think... I think it might be more complicated than you think.”

Will stares at her, confused. “Are you defending Montresor right now?”

“God no. But while you were... asleep, we talked a bit. He’s still a piece of shit, but I don’t hate him quite as much anymore. We’re not friends, though,” she adds at Will’s baffled expression.

“Didn’t say you were.”

“Your face implied it.”

“Right,” he says, looking back up at the ceiling. His thoughts are whirring, bumping into each other and scattered around his brain. Monty cares. Monty cared when he was injured and spent the night sitting at his bedside with Ada, who he’s apparently friendly with now. Will would be more worried about that if it wasn’t for Ada’s ever present disgust with him. 

She’s probably exaggerating his reaction to Will’s injuries. But, even if it’s a lie, the thought of Montresor caring that much about him makes his cheeks flush pink and his heart beat a little faster.

Montresor reappears eventually, with a tray of food for them. They place it on Will’s bed and share, picking from different plates of chicken and potatoes. Ada complains about how bland it is, Montresor rolls his eyes and insults her voice, and Will watches them. He thinks he feels Montresor’s eyes lingering on him, but every time he looks up, there’s nothing.

He knows better than to get his hopes up. He’s probably going insane. But, at the very least, Ada and Monty are (sort of) getting along now. Will should really get stabbed more often.

***

They don’t talk about the queer thing.

They talk about Montresor sometimes, because Ada is probably the one person who can actually understand why Will likes him. But they very specifically don’t talk about what it means that Will is a boy who likes another boy.

It doesn’t bother Will much. It’s easier this way, to ignore everything that makes him strange and wrong. He can pretend to be normal for a little bit.

Shockingly, Ada is the one who brings it up.

They’re in the grass outside the school, underneath the eerie orange sky. It’s an alright day, because it’s always an alright day in this place where time is frozen. Will sometimes thinks he could disappear into the emptiness of it all. They all will, eventually.

Ada interrupts his thoughts, “I’m not the only person, though. Annabel probably knows.”

Will blinks. “Huh?”

“What you said the other day, about me being the only one who knows. I don’t think it’s true.”

“You don’t think she’s told Prospero?” Will asks.

Ada shakes her head. “I doubt he’s figured it out. Boys aren’t exactly perceptive.”

“Hey!”

“My point exactly. But I doubt Annabel cares. She’s good at secrets.”

“Huh,” Will says. It’s hard to feel like anything matters in this timeless place. But Annabel knows and she’s never brought it up. She doesn’t care. The weight that’s been split between him and Ada gets a bit lighter.

Ada is quiet. Will turns to her. She’s picking at her nails. Fiddling with her hands, like Will bites his cheek when he’s anxious.

“Ada?” he prompts, trying to be gentle.

“I’m good at secrets,” Ada says. “Really good. Maybe too good. I, um, I’ve been thinking and- Was it- was it always Montresor? Were there other boys?”

“When I was alive, I think. But they were different. They were... crushes. I thought they were handsome and they made me feel all fluttery. Monty is...” Will cannot find a word that encompasses everything Montresor is to him. How does he explain the pure belonging he feels by his side, the joy that blooms in him when Monty compliments him or laughs at his jokes, the way his feelings seem to grow every day until he’s choking on them. “Different.” A pause. “He’s everything.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt that. The... different feeling,” Ada whispers. “But I, um, the fluttery one. When I was in the manor, Lenore looked at me sometimes and I- I don’t think I ever really liked any of those men. They were just... easy. Pleasing. Powerful. But I’m not-” She swallows heavily. Things are clicking together in Will’s brain now as he watches her breath shakily.

“Please tell me you understand,” she says.

“I do,” Will promises, swears to her. “I do. And it’s okay.”

Ada nods. They don’t talk about Will’s queer thing, so they don’t name hers. They’re both too cowardly to say it out loud. So they sit underneath a dead sky and let it hang in the air between them, the space between their clasped hands. And Will is just pathetic enough that he’s grateful for it.

They’re both good at keeping secrets.

***

Will can’t sleep.

Again.

It wouldn’t be so odd if he could just have the nightmares he knows the others do. Instead, the only thing that keeps him awake is his own suspiciously blank mind.

He doesn’t understand what’s happening to him.

He goes for a walk.

The hallways are dark. Every step he takes echoes against the looming walls. The silence only amplifies the loneliness he can never really escape. But it’s better than his room.

It’s a shock when he rounds the corner and sees another person. His heart picks up immediately at the mess of blonde hair and recognizable slouch. Montresor.

“Can’t sleep?” Will says quietly. Still, Monty startles and turns to stare at him. He freezes like he’s seen a ghost, blinks several times, then relaxes. He grunts in response to Will’s question. He takes that as his sign to sit beside him.

“What happened when the stag attacked?” Will asks, because the thought hasn’t left his mind in ages. It lingers, swirling around his head in different shapes and feelings.

Montresor freezes. “What are you talking about?”

“You’ve been weird ever since and I- I feel like something happened, I just don’t remember what.” The frustration bleeds out of his voice. “Can you please just tell me what I did?”

Montresor is staring at him. “You’re asking this now?”

Will shakes his head. “I didn’t get hurt or anything, otherwise I would know, right? But Ada said you were worried when I got injured last week and I’m just... confused, I guess.”

“Fuck, you really haven’t changed, have you?” Montresor laughs, cruel and a bit hysterical. 

“Monty?” Will says hesitantly. “I’m sorry, really. I just need to know.”

There it is again, that look he’s gotten so used to. As if Montresor is staring right through him, at something he has no hope of understanding.

“That’s what he said too,” he mutters, clearly not meant for Will’s ears. Then, suddenly, there’s hands gripping the lapels of his coat and dragging him forward and Montresor’s lips are on his. The world goes white. It’s reduced down to teeth biting harshly at his lips and shaking hands holding him in place. He tastes blood. It’s everything.

When Montresor lets go of him, he’s gasping for air. He stares, mind blank, lips buzzing.

“Monty?” he manages to choke out. A prayer and a question in one.

“I had to know,” Montresor says, almost desperately. But that can’t be right. Or it wouldn’t be, if Will didn’t have the fresh memory of Montresor clutching him like he was about to disappear.

“Okay,” he says instead of asking a single question. He wants to dive for his mouth again, but he holds himself back. It will never be enough. But if this is all Montresor ever wants to give him, he’ll swallow down the horrible aching and let it happen.

They sit there in silence for long enough that Will can see pale pink sunlight creeping through a nearby window. Then, abruptly, Montresor stands up. Wordlessly, he reaches a hand down to help Will up. He takes it, because he always will.

When they’re on their feet, Montresor grabs his face and plants one last bruising kiss on his lips. Will blinks, dazed.

“I’ll see you at breakfast,” he says. Something has shifted in his expression, some new determination or resignation that Will doesn’t understand. He doubts he ever will. Monty will keep his secrets close to his chest and Will won’t ask any more questions, as long as he gets to keep this thing between them. He watches Montresor walk away and feels painful, brilliant hope blooming in his chest.

(He tells Ada immediately. Runs to her room and knocks until she answers, irritated. Annabel watches them fall on each other in confusion. Will doubts she can decipher his rambling. But Ada does and, somewhere between her insults and complaints, there's joy.)

***

“We’re late to the team meeting,” Will says, breathless, pressed into a secluded hallway corner.

“Fuck off, they’ll be fine. It’s not even a real meeting,” Montresor scoffs, but pulls back. Will tries to hide his disappointment (and fails, based on Monty’s smug smirk).

“It’s for bonding,” Will says, trying to flatten his hair back down.

“We almost got eaten by a whale last week, we’re bonded enough.”

They set off down the hall, very pointedly not touching anymore. They don’t do sappy things like hold hands. But, sometimes, on the rare nights where Ada isn’t in his room, Montresor comes over. There’s mostly kissing. And other things. But sometimes, rarely, they talk. And it’s enough.

Sometimes all three of them are there. Montresor had panicked the first time he walked in and saw Ada in Will’s bed but, after a very stiff and uncomfortable conversation, had relaxed. There are the nights where secluded kisses are replaced by the three of them sprawled out on Will’s rug, talking about nothing and bickering over inconsequential things. There are also the much rarer nights where Will realizes it is possible--albeit a bit uncomfortable--to fit three people in one dorm room bed.

And sometimes it’s all five of them. Like today, when Monty and Will arrive to the secluded little room they’ve taken over as their meeting space.

Ada has her legs tucked underneath her, mending something that's either a scarf or a very misshapen sock. Prospero sits on the other end of the couch, reading out loud to her from a romantic historical novel, so they seem to have found a compromise there. Annabel sits on the floor, somehow still looking regal. Her back rests on Prospero's legs as she writes something up. Occasionally, one of the girls will interrupt the reading with a comment or question. The fireplace crackles softly in the background.

“Finally,” Ada groans when she sees them. “We’ve been waiting forever.”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, we’re barely late,” Montresor scoffs, settling down in the armchair. Ada rolls her eyes.

“Your shirt’s buttoned up incorrectly,” Annabel says. He glances down, then glares at her, flushing. She smiles smugly.

Ada was right. She definitely knows. Will’s not sure Prospero’s caught on yet, but he will eventually. It doesn't scare him nearly as much anymore.

“Can we please just begin?” he says tiredly, tossing the book off somewhere. Wills settles down on the ground by Montresor’s chair, his knees knocking into Ada’s shoes.

Conversations about strategy and future lessons fade away into laughter. Into Prospero tossing decorative pillows at Montresor, and Ada curling Annabel’s hair around her finger. Into Annabel’s quiet smiles, Ada’s feet in Prospero’s lap, and Montresor’s fingers brushing Will’s shoulder. Into, eventually, soft snores and a silence that doesn’t feel empty.

Ada is the only other one still awake. It feels fitting. She brushes a finger down the spine of Prospero’s book, thinking to herself. Will doesn’t think either of them are very good at friendship. Ada will spill her deepest fears into the night and he’ll mutter out dissatisfying comfort. He’ll turn himself into a target for cruelty and she’ll halfheartedly defend him. She would pick herself over him because she's a coward, and he'd pick Monty over her because he's an even greater one.

She’s the best friend he’s ever had.

Will reaches forward to take her hand. When she turns to him, the look in her eyes melts into something a little softer. She almost smiles.

“Tell me something good,” he says.

The world is a little less lonely now. It'll end eventually. It has to. But for now, this is enough to make him feel alive.