Chapter Text
Will had been trying to be sympathetic for six days.
He thought that deserved some recognition.
When Gabe had shown up at their apartment after the breakup and announced that he didn’t want to talk about it, Will hadn’t asked questions. When he skipped dinner the next night, Will brought food back for him anyway and left it on the coffee table without making a big deal about it. He’d even surrendered the television for an entire evening while Gabe watched a movie that had absolutely no business being as depressing as it was.
By day six, however, Will was beginning to think they had a problem.
Gabe was stretched across the couch in the same Boston College sweatshirt he’d been wearing when Will left for class that morning. A box of cereal rested against his stomach, one hand buried inside it. He wasn’t watching the television. It was on, but his attention seemed fixed somewhere approximately six inches in front of his face.
Will stood in the doorway between the kitchen and living room and watched him for a moment.
“Did you go to class today?”
Gabe reached into the cereal box.
“Yeah.”
“All of them?”
A pause.
“Define all.”
From the kitchen table, Ryan Leonard sighed without looking up from his laptop. “Don’t.”
Will glanced at him. “Don’t what?”
“Whatever you’re about to do.”
“I haven’t done anything.”
“Exactly. I’m trying to preserve that.”
Will ignored him and crossed the room, lifting Gabe’s feet long enough to sit before dropping them into his lap. Gabe didn’t protest. That concerned Will more than he wanted to admit.
“How are you doing?”
This time Leno looked up.
Will frowned at him. “What?”
“Nothing. That was surprisingly normal.”
“I know how to talk to people.”
“Debatable.”
Gabe’s foot nudged Will’s leg. “Can both of you shut up?”
Will looked back at him. “Seriously.”
Gabe took a breath and stared at the ceiling. “I don’t know.”
It was the same answer he’d given yesterday.
Will waited for more.
None came.
“What does that mean?”
Gabe’s eyes closed. “It means I don’t know, Will.”
“I know, but are you sad? Are you pissed? Do you want her back?”
“Yes.”
“To which one?”
“All of them.”
Will sat with that for a moment.
That sounded exhausting.
He’d had breakups before. Some mutual, some less so. There had been girls he’d missed afterward and one he’d been genuinely pissed at for a while, but he’d always understood, on some level, that the feeling would pass. You deleted a few pictures, avoided certain places for a couple weeks, complained to your friends and eventually started noticing other people again.
Whatever was happening to Gabe didn’t look like that.
“You know she’s not changing her mind, right?”
Leno’s head came up sharply.
Gabe slowly turned toward Will.
Will immediately knew he’d said the wrong thing.
“What?”
“Jesus Christ,” Leno muttered.
“No, I’m not trying to be an asshole.” Will shifted so he was facing Gabe properly. “I’m saying if you know it’s over, wouldn’t that make it easier?”
Gabe stared at him.
“Why would that make it easier?”
“Because you know.”
“That doesn’t mean I want it.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
There wasn’t much force behind it, but something in Gabe’s voice made Will stop.
Gabe sat up, setting the cereal on the floor.
“I know we’re not getting back together. I knew that when she broke up with me. That’s not the problem.”
“Then what is?”
Gabe looked at him for a long moment, apparently trying to decide whether the question was genuine.
It was.
“The problem is that I still love her.”
Will’s mouth opened and then closed.
Okay.
Gabe rubbed both hands over his face.
“I wake up and for maybe five seconds I forget. Then I remember. Something happens during the day and I reach for my phone because she’s the person I would’ve told, and then I remember I can’t. I keep thinking about shit we were supposed to do next month. Her birthday. Christmas. We had plans, and now I’m supposed to just…” He gestured vaguely. “Not have them anymore.”
Will hadn’t thought about that part.
“I know I’ll get over it,” Gabe continued. “I’m not saying I’m going to be like this forever. I know eventually I’ll be fine. But knowing I’m going to be fine later doesn’t make me fine now.”
The apartment went quiet.
Will looked at his friend and felt a little guilty.
“Okay.”
Gabe glanced at him.
“That makes more sense.”
Leno gave a short laugh from the kitchen.
Both of them looked over.
“What?” Will asked.
“Nothing.”
“You laughed.”
“Because you sound like someone just explained taxes to you.”
“Fuck off.”
Gabe smiled.
It was small, but it was the first real one Will had seen from him in days.
Will took it as a victory.
“I’ve never felt that,” he admitted.
“No shit,” Leno said.
Will turned toward him. “How would you know?”
Leno leaned back in his chair. “Because if you’d ever had your heart broken, you wouldn’t have just asked Gabe why knowing it’s over doesn’t make him feel better.”
“That was a reasonable question.”
“It really wasn’t.”
Will looked at Gabe for support.
Gabe shook his head.
“Sorry.”
“Unbelievable.”
Gabe reached for his cereal again, but some of the heaviness had left his face. “You’ve definitely never had your heart broken.”
“I’ve been dumped.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
This was beginning to annoy him.
“I’ve had relationships end that I didn’t want to end.”
“Were you in love?”
Will thought about it.
He’d told people he loved them.
He’d meant it, he thought.
At least he’d meant something when he’d said it.
But nobody had ever left and taken part of Will’s life with them the way Gabe had just described. He’d never woken up and forgotten someone was gone. Never reached for his phone and remembered halfway there that he wasn’t allowed to call anymore.
“No,” Will said finally. “Probably not.”
Gabe nodded as if this proved something.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re doing the same thing he did.”
Leno smiled. “You’re just lucky.”
Will frowned. “Why?”
“Because heartbreak fucking sucks.”
“Then I’m not seeing the downside here.”
“The downside is that you’ve never loved someone enough to have your heart broken.”
Will looked at him.
That one landed differently.
Leno must have noticed because his expression softened.
“I’m not saying you’ve never cared about anyone. I’m saying there’s a difference. Eventually you’re going to meet somebody where the stakes are higher.”
“And then I’m going to become this?” Will gestured toward Gabe.
Gabe threw cereal at him.
Will laughed and knocked it away.
“You’re an asshole.”
“You’re eating dry cereal in the dark.”
“The light is on.”
“One lamp is on.”
“I like ambiance.”
Will smiled, but his mind was still caught on what Leno had said.
Eventually you’re going to meet somebody.
There was something mildly offensive about the certainty of it. Like some future person Will had never met was apparently walking around with the ability to dismantle him and everyone else had simply accepted this as a normal part of being alive.
“What if I don’t?”
Leno looked back at him. “Don’t what?”
“Get my heart broken.”
“You will.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Everybody does eventually.”
Will scoffed. “That’s not a fact.”
“Close enough.”
“So I’m just supposed to wait for it?”
Gabe’s mouth twitched.
Will noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“No, what?”
Gabe looked at Leno. “He’s getting competitive.”
Leno immediately understood.
“Oh, no.”
“I’m not getting competitive.”
“You are.”
“About what?”
“Heartbreak.”
Will laughed. “How would someone even be competitive about heartbreak?”
Neither answered.
That should have ended it.
Instead, Will found himself thinking.
The semester had barely started. There were months left in the year. He dated. He met people. According to the two idiots currently staring at him, this was apparently inevitable anyway.
He could see Gabe realizing where his brain was going.
“No.”
Will looked at him innocently. “What?”
“Whatever you’re thinking, no.”
“I’m not thinking anything.”
“You get this look.”
“What look?”
“The one right before you make something everyone’s problem.”
Leno closed his laptop.
That was insulting.
“I could do it.”
Gabe stared at him. “Do what?”
“Get my heart broken.”
For a second, nobody spoke.
Then Leno started laughing.
Not a chuckle. Full laughter, head dropping into his hands.
Will frowned. “Why is that funny?”
“Because,” Leno managed, “you can’t schedule heartbreak.”
“I didn’t say schedule it.”
“You just gave yourself a deadline.”
“I haven’t given myself anything yet.”
“Yet,” Gabe repeated.
Will ignored him.
“What I’m saying is, if this is something everybody supposedly experiences, then why couldn’t I?”
“You could,” Gabe said. “That’s not the stupid part.”
“Thank you.”
“The stupid part is thinking you can decide when.”
“End of the school year.”
Leno groaned.
Gabe stared at him. “You’re serious.”
Will wasn’t entirely sure he had been until that moment.
Then Gabe smiled.
And there it was again—that spark of the person he’d been before the breakup.
Will leaned into it.
“Before summer, I’ll understand.”
“Understand what?”
Will gestured toward Gabe. “This.”
“My emotional devastation?”
“Exactly.”
“You’re going to intentionally emotionally devastate yourself to prove you understand my emotional devastation.”
“When you say it like that, it sounds stupid.”
“There’s no other way to say it.”
Leno was still shaking his head. “There’s also one fairly major flaw in your plan.”
“What?”
“You have to actually fall in love first.”
Will opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Gabe started laughing.
Will pointed at him. “I’m glad my suffering is helping your recovery.”
“It already is.”
“Good.”
“Seriously, though.” Gabe’s smile faded into something gentler. “Don’t go looking for it.”
Will frowned.
“Why?”
Gabe looked down at the cereal box in his hands.
“Because when it actually happens, you won’t think it’s a game anymore.”
For once, Will didn’t have an answer.
The challenge should have died there.
It probably would have, if Will had met almost anyone else.
But eleven days later, Boston University came to Conte Forum.
And Macklin Celebrini stepped onto the ice.