Who: Will Moody & Luke Smith (that one NPC from Las Vegas) What: Will is in distress over what happened with Kent; his new friend Luke comes to his rescue. When: Sunday, May 19, 10:30 pm-ish. Where: Delilah's Diner. Warnings: Talk of past dubious consent issues, trauma, and lots of feels.
It was late, again, and Will couldn't sleep, again. His body was tired, but his mind refused to rest, and the anxious tightness in his chest wouldn't let him relax. He'd tossed and turned after laying himself down, for the third night in a row, until finally he sat up and turned on the charmed light above his bed, tears of frustration coming to his eyes.
He reached for his phone, which was becoming a natural part of his life. In the past he'd always wondered why people in the world seemed so attached to the little flat boxes; since getting one of his own he'd begun to understand. A phone put what seemed like the whole world into your hand, an answer to every question, a connection to all your friends. Will hesitated over his contact list, his finger hovering over JJ's name for a long and indecisive second, but in the end he scrolled carefully down to the next name on the list instead, and hit the video call button, and waited while it rang.
The street noise was enough that Luke never heard his ringtone--a snippet of the chorus of a Jars of Clay song (he knew he was a walking cliche)--but he definitely felt the phone go off in his pocket. It took a moment to fish it out, and he had just a second to be slightly bemused by the name that popped up ("Will the Unicorn") because he'd only ever texted with him before he answered. "Hey! Will? Gimme just a second. There's a pedal tavern next to me, and I can't hear a thing. Let me get somewhere quieter."
Walking quickly, he found the edge of a building with an alleyway. Ducking down it, he circled around to the back where it was much quieter. "Sorry about that. What's going on? How are you?"
Will was startled by the noise in the background, enough that he almost dropped his phone and had to steady it in his lap. "Hello," he greeted Luke, and smiled back at him, a brief thing that quickly faded into seriousness again. "I… I'm okay. How are you? I pray thee pardon me for the hour, I know 'tis late." He rubbed a hand through his hair. "Thou'rt still out at this hour?"
"It's not that late for me. Only 9:30. Time zones." Luke took this opportunity to really look at Will, now that he wasn't distracted by Vegas being Vegas. There was something there that was setting off his alarm bells. He went on like things were okay. "I was out with some friends, celebrating a birthday, but we just wrapped up, so I was just headed back to my apartment. No need for apologies. How was your weekend?"
Will nodded, his cheeks going pinker. "Aye, I forgot about the time zone. I'm glad." He leaned against the wall, bringing his phone closer so he could look at Luke's open, smiling face. "My weekend was… I…" He sucked in a breath. "I attended meeting with my friend, JJ. The sermon was on Ruth and her fidelity and love for Naomi. 'Twas very moving. I thought of what thou told me about finding a family who loves thee with such devotion..." He paused for a moment, his eyes moving away. "Luke, may I ask for thy help?" he said after a moment. "My soul is sorely troubled, and I can find no rest."
As he listened raptly, Luke tried his best to push down his growing concern. He was genuinely glad to hear about the service and the message, and had very nearly pressed Will for those thoughts he'd mentioned, but was brought up short by the look that crossed his face. He settled back against the rough brick that hasn't yet cooled after the long, hot, sunny day. "Of course you can. I said you always could, and I meant that. What's going on?"
"I thank thee," Will said, and bit at his lip for a moment, bracing himself to tell. Luke had been so kind during their discussion that night in Las Vegas, and he knew he would be no less kind about this, but there was still a part of him that cringed from letting anyone else know what he had done. "My friend Cate is courting -- dating, I mean -- with a man whom I have greatly admired," he started, and flushed right away. "Not in a lustful way. Or… not… only in a lustful way. Dr. Brightstar is a healer for the creatures here, and he was the one who saved the unicorn foal, Treasure, and his mother. His reputation is unfriendly, but he is kind and gentle with the creatures, and he has been kind to me. But on Friday we--"
Will swallowed, making himself look at Luke, though the unhappy, ashamed flush was spreading all the way down his neck and he was agitated from saying the words. "He was not in his right mind, and he took hold of me, and he kissed me," he admitted, with a catch in his voice that was almost a sob. "And I was too afeart to... I turned away, but not until after he had already kissed me, Luke. I confess it, I did not say nay."
The air suddenly felt thick. Toxic. It was like poison trying to seep its way into his lungs. Luke couldn't draw in enough actual air to not feel dizzy as he stood there, listening with mounting horror. He kept it out of his face and voice with monumental effort, and watched as Will poured out his soul. It was rare indeed to find him at a loss for words, but there he was. "Okay," he tried his voice out slowly, cautiously. "Okay, may I ask you one thing?"
Will dipped his head, his heart clenching; he didn't know what that tone in Luke's voice meant, but it made his stomach drop with nerves. "Aye," he answered unsteadily, and swallowed. "I would answer thee anything."
Luke looked into his phone, trying to hold both it and his gaze as steady as possible. "You say you like this Brightstar guy--which is perfectly okay, I swear it is. No issues there as far as I'm concerned. But, Will, did you want it before? Did you want him to kiss you right at that particular second?"
"Nay," Will answered immediately, flushing brighter. "Nay, I was -- I was concerned for him, because he was acting strangely. I tried to leave, to find help for him, and he h-held me." He rubbed at his wrist, for the dozenth time that day; it had developed a red spot over the bone from all the times he'd scrubbed at it, trying to rid himself of the feel of Dr. Brightstar's hand there. "But mayhap I did something to make him -- mayhap I invited it." His voice had gone thick. "I am sorely ashamed," he added, low.
White-knuckled rage warred with profound sorrow for dominance in his head. Luke found that his knees could no longer support him, and he slid down the wall. He didn't care about the dirty ground. He didn't care about the way the rough brick bit into his skin and caught at his shirt. "Will, no," he whispered it, because otherwise he would be screaming. "You shouldn't… You can't blame yourself. Even if this guy wasn't in his right mind, or whatever, it doesn't mean…"
In another life, he would have cursed, but instead Luke began to pray inside his head. For strength. For guidance. For any combination of words he could find to make this better. They remained elusive.
Will looked down into his phone; tears had welled up in his eyes again, and he tried to blink them away along with the churning in his chest. He waited for a long moment, not trusting himself to speak, and then said hoarsely, once he'd gathered himself a little, "Dr. Brightstar was -- he was truly remorseful after. He begged my forgiveness, and of course I must… 'twould be wicked not to forgive." He dragged in a difficult breath. "But I cannot sleep, Luke. I keep thinking on it, and how I could have stopped him, or how mayhap there was a, a wickedness inside me that did not want to stop him--" Will shook his head, and a tear escaped despite his efforts. "I am afeart, and angered, and ashamed, and I do not know how to stop feeling so. I pray thee, as a preacher, as my friend, Luke, tell me what to do."
"Be still," he said barely a breath after Will's tearful admissions. Luke wasn't calm, not inside, but he projected it. "Breathe. 'Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.' Lay this at His feet, Will, this awful burden. It shouldn't be yours to bear alone. God loves you, and he knows what's in your heart. It's okay to be angry and sad and anything else you want to feel, but you. Are. Not. Alone. You'll always have Him. And you have me."
He breathed in and slowly back out. When he went on, it was with infinite care. "If you want, I can come to you. I have friends who can side-along me. Ten, maybe fifteen minutes tops. I know God's got you, but I've got you too."
Scripture calmed and centered Will as nothing else did, and he listened to Luke quote those familiar and reassuring words with fervent intensity. He breathed in and out, calming himself and comforting his anxiety with the knowledge that Luke was right: God would be with him if he would give his full faith and trust in him, and there was nothing he could not make right.
"Oh," he said, surprised at that offer, and immediately wanted to say yes. But it was so much to ask, even of a friend, and he hadn't known Luke long at all; it seemed selfish when he was already being so kind just to give up his time and attention to Will. "Nay, I could not ask that of thee. Thou must have better things to do with thy time than this."
The expression on Will's face slipped into something that had the tightness in Luke's chest start to ease up a little. It was a stop-gap measure, however, he was sure of it. This was a reprieve, just relieving the pressure against the dam with a carefully administered series of levees. (There was an excellent chance that he'd been living near Hoover Dam for too long, if that's the first analogy that popped into his head.) "You're not asking; I'm offering. I mean, honestly, I was gonna head back to my place and put on Netflix. Probably the baking show. I promise, I'd much rather hang out with you, if that's an alternative."
Will smiled a little, surprised again, and pleased. That dark, uncomfortable swell of emotion eased a bit, crowded out by the soft warmth of the idea that Luke wanted to spend time with him. He ducked his head. "Thou'rt kinder to me than I deserve," he said, "but if thou will, I would be glad to see thee, Luke. I am a poor host tonight, and I have no Net-flix or baking show, whatever they may be, but if thy friend would be kind enough to bring thee here, I would -- I would be very happy." He straightened up, running a hand through his messy hair. "'Tis late, but I could not sleep anyway. Will thou come?"
At his acceptance, Luke felt some of the tension leave his shoulders as he went from clenching his phone as his arms braced themselves on his bent knees to merely cradling it. He didn't feel like pointing out that the lack of Netflix was a poor deterrent, although he'd also been mentally prepared for the continuation of the polite refusal, ready to let a 'no' be final. Will probably needed that too, to re-establish the lines of his consent after having them obliterated. "Of course." He gave his phone a nod and a soft smile. "I just have to make a couple of calls. Ten, fifteen minutes. That's all."
There were a number of IOUs he was going to have to call in, but this… but Will was worth it.
Will's heart thumped hard at the sight of that smile, even through the little picture on his phone. He answered it with a smile of his own, tremulous but real. "I thank thee," he said. "The Lord was kind indeed when he brought thee into my life, Luke. I pray that one day I may repay thee tenfold for every kind deed and word thou hast given me." His eyes were damp again, but this time with gratitude, and he smiled as he brushed away a bit of a tear clinging to his eyelashes. "I must dress, but I can meet thee in Snowcap."
After getting the address for the diner from Will, Luke ended the call only to start up a flurry of more to put him in touch with the right person in his network who could get him to Montana. It wasn't at all the way he'd seen his Sunday night going, but getting to Snowcap had become his absolute priority.
It really was ten minutes later that he arrived in the tiny town, just a short distance from the diner. He gave the matronly black woman a hug and kissed her cheek before she popped away. Luke had thrown on a coat, but it was poor armor against the kiss of winter that still lingered those close to the mountains. Bad planning. Still, he grinned and waved when he spotted Will, and trotted over.
For about half a second, he nearly barrelled into his friend with a hug, but recent events put a stop to that with a quickness. He came to stop and rocked back on his heels, shoving his hands into his back pockets just to recapture some warmth. He was still smiling as he said, "Hi."
Will had used the time to put on his Sunday clothes again, comb his hair back carefully, and wash his face to rid himself of the dampness in his eyes. His cloak, handmade and hand-charmed by his mother long ago and far away, was warm and weatherproof, and as he waited outside Delilah's he wouldn't have felt the cold anyway from the warmth that filled him from the inside.
He smiled at Luke's appearance with his friend, straightening up as he came over. "Hi," he greeted in return, rather shyly, and ducked his head. "Luke… 'tis so good to see thee again. I cannot thank thee enough for thy kindness, and…" He shrugged one shoulder, and gestured toward the diner door. "May I buy thee a hot chocolate? Or coffee?"
"Hot chocolate would be good." He stepped into the warmth of the diner and actually sighed with relief. "You'd think I'd be used to the cold, or even immune, but I've always run hot. Whenever it starts getting cold all I want to do is hibernate. Just get in a blanket burrito and sleep until spring."
He was talking so much, Luke saw this. It was just chatter. Given the hour and that it was a Sunday, it was open seating, so he found a booth that was slightly tucked away and slid in. Only when they were sitting again did he try again. "Are you… are you still scared? Is that why you can't sleep?"
Will settled into the other side of the booth, still smiling, which faded away into a serious and troubled expression at that question. He folded his hands together on the table in front of him, looking down. "Nay," he said slowly. "At least -- I consider I should not be afeart for the future. Dr. Brightstar would not… do it again." He blushed, glancing around to be sure no one was near enough to hear him. Confessing to Luke was one thing; confessing to the whole town was a different matter, and he couldn't bear the thought of everyone knowing. "Nay, I lie awake because I am ashamed and full of regret for my part, and I cannot stop thinking on it. Dr. Brightstar was not in his right mind, but I was. I should have gone for help for him when he was acting so strangely, only..."
He unconsciously rubbed again at that spot on his wrist, the already-chafed skin smarting at the pressure. In a way, the mild pain was comforting. "When he took my hand first, I was startled and confused, but I-I had… lustful feelings," he confessed, looking down. "I consider I could have stopped it then. But mayhap I did not wholly want to." Will closed his eyes and swallowed against the swell of disgust that rose in his stomach at his own dirtiness and weakness.
Catching sight of that compulsive movement, and realizing it was the same motion he'd seen when they were on the phone, Luke's heart fell. This time he didn't think, and he didn't stop. He reached out and put his hand over top Will's hand and wrist, trying to stop the unconscious act. "Hey, no." His voice came out a little more fiercely than he'd wanted, but he needed to put this out there while they were face-to-face. "Okay, so maybe you had thoughts. And maybe this healer guy was really out of it, but that doesn't make what happened to you right. It doesn't justify it. Thoughts aren't action, and you didn't want it. You pushed away, remember? That's what you told me. A hard stop. A solid no. That's what counts here."
The cool hand on his made Will start, and he opened his eyes, lifting his gaze to Luke's face. He didn't pull away, though his heart was beating faster, and he drank in every word with a deep desire for Luke to be right, for this all to be none of his own fault. It was hard to believe, but he very much wanted to try.
"Aye," he agreed. "I did say nay, and pushed away, but 'twas… 'twas very confusing, Luke. He was sorely remorseful after, and how he looked -- it made me consider that mayhap I did something before that made him believe I -- mayhap I misled him. Enticed him in some way." He was pink-cheeked just saying the word; he'd never thought of himself as enticing in any way, but with what had happened with JJ, and then with the healer, he didn't know what to think. "I consider in his confusion he mistook me for… someone else. Not my friend who dates him, but another man, who also--" Will flushed further. He didn't fully understand Cate's relationship, and it made him confused to think about it, so he tried not to. "Anyhow, I consider I did something to make him think that. But I cannot put my mind on what. It feels like my fault, though thou sayst it was not."
Every word out of Will's mouth hurt more and more. That self-blame, the loathing that came with it. Luke's hand was trembling when he insinuated it between Will's and his wrist. His own hands were still cold from being outside, but even he could feel the awful heat from the abused skin. He was running out of words that just felt like more of the same, but he knew that he had to reiterate his point. "'Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new.' You believe that, don't you? ‘Come now, and let us reason together,’ says the Lord, ‘Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red like crimson, they shall be as wool.’ Your actions weren't sins. I don't even believe your thoughts were sins. But that's not down to me. That's something you've got to search your heart to tell you if you think you--" he wanted to be sick for saying this. His stomach roiled in protest-- "really deserved what happened to you."
Luke's words were as soothing as the cool touch of his fingers, and Will found that his breath came easier, his heartbeat slowed as those familiar words eased some of his troubles away. "Aye," he agreed with relief. "I do so believe, Luke." He smiled and squeezed Luke's fingers under his in thanks. "I will consider deeply upon those words. In Scripture is never-failing comfort. I--"
The waitress arrived then, and her eyes on the two of them made Will very conscious that he was holding hands with Luke in an overly-familiar way. He released Luke's fingers, giving him an embarrassed smile. "Good evening," he greeted her politely. "May we have two hot chocolates, please? Art thou hungry?" he asked Luke. "I didn't ask."
Truth told, he hadn't even considered the menu, but he glanced down and saw they had pie. Luke hadn't even considered being hungry before now, but his stomach, which had practically been heaving before, now gave an interested gurgle. He glared down at it as though it had just insulted his ancestors with its treasonous ways, and was quite flush as he pulled his hand back by a few inches and smiled up at the patiently waiting server. "Slice of chocolate pie, please, ma'am, if I may?"
After she moved away, Luke pushed his fingers forward again as he looked back at Will. They just barely connected with his wrist again. He grinned, still embarrassed. "It's one of my vices, pie. Try as I might, I can't resist it. This is definitely one of those do-as-I-say, not-as-I-do moments."
Will looked down at Luke's fingers on his wrist, and back up at his face. He didn't pull his hand away: though the touch gave him an uncertain flutter in his stomach, Luke's cool hand was soothing on his skin, and he wanted that comfort more than anything. His forehead wrinkled a little, but he smiled back at Luke after a moment. "I consider 'tis no sin to enjoy food. 'Go, eat thy bread with joy, and drink thy wine with a cheerful heart...'" His smile grew, wider than he would have thought possible a few minutes ago. "If King Solomon had known there was such a thing as pie, and hot chocolate, mayhap he would have written about that instead of bread and wine."
Even though it wasn't all that late, Luke had been up since before dawn and had been running on fumes even before meeting his friends for the birthday party. It's not like he'd had a drink or anything, but there had been a lot of very enthusiastic dancing to some extremely catchy boyband music from the early '00s before they'd left to hit up a bar-bar, and not the all-ages scene they'd been in. No one had been surprised or offended when he opted for an earlier night. All of which could possibly excuse why he suddenly thought that was the most hysterical thing he'd heard in a really long time. He was suddenly helpless with it.
The laugh that bubbled up from inside him grew exponentially harder as his thoughts began substituting pie and hot chocolate for a number of food and wine verses. The result was an infinite feedback loop of hilarity that had him hiding his head in the crook of his arm to mute some of the weird giggles and snorts he was making. He even had to pull his hand back just to press it to his stomach, which was starting to protesting the unrelenting contraction of his diaphragm.
"I can't," Luke wheezed, and leaned back to try to relieve some of the pressure. He was red from his hairline to well below his collar. His free hand swiped at his eyes as he tipped his head back. He wanted it to end, so maybe it was a touch of hysteria. Frustration for this awful situation translated into humor. "Sorry. Sorry sorry sorry. I can't seem to stop. I'm so sorry. This is-this is the worst time for this. I just can't. Sorry."
Will smiled wider, pleased to have made Luke laugh with what was admittedly a weak joke, and he even laughed along for a moment. That turned into mild concern when Luke looked more like he was in pain, bright red and crying with laughter, and he turned his hand to touch Luke's wrist, leaning forward a little to slide the touch up to cup his elbow. "Art thou okay?" he inquired, and looked up for the waitress, who was there in a moment to give them cups of ice water and a strange look. "Luke, calm thyself, and breathe," he suggested softly. "I fear thou will do thyself harm."
He forced himself to look at Will, to watch the center of his chest--the rise and fall of it-- and began to match his breathing to it. The worst of it passed, finally, with awareness of his disproportionate response keeping his flush right where it was, and that warm hand at his elbow continuing to ground him. "I thought I was supposed to be here for you," he pointed out with a weak chuckle. Luke moved his arm just a little, so that his hand rested on Will's forearm. He squeezed it gently. "I really am sorry. Sometimes things get to be too much, and all I want to do is yell or scream, and I ask God to take that and turn it into something more positive. I guess this was one of those occasions where I just couldn't handle it. It doesn't happen often, but when it does--whoo, boy, is it a doozy!"
'Doozy,' Will repeated silently to himself, a bit mystified by the expression, but that wasn't the important thing here. He gave Luke's elbow an encouraging squeeze, smiling a bit. "Don't be sorry," he told him. "Thou'rt here for me, and I cannot thank thee enough for that. 'Twas beyond kind of thee to come so far, so late." He pushed one of the glasses of water over to Luke, and watched him for a moment, following the fading flush from his neck and ears that almost matched his hair. "Does it help?" he asked after a brief pause. "Yelling and screaming? Or laughing?"
At that little nudge of the glass toward him, Luke felt warmth expand in his chest. Will was so kind, and so caring. For him to have-- that expansive feeling collapsed on itself. He hid the shudder that came with it by draining nearly half the glass as he tried to cool off again. "I wanted to come." He shrugged, tried and succeeded with a smile. "And, yeah, it helps. It's even better when you're out in the desert, in the middle of nowhere, and it's freezing, and it's just you and the stars and the sand. You can just scream and scream until your lungs can't take it. Then I drive back home, and my soul feels more calm. Like it can actually take this thing called life and roll with it. Do you have anything like that?"
Will considered for a moment, taking a sip from his own water while he thought seriously about the question. "Nay, not like that," he answered finally. "My folk are not… demonstrative in that way. I would scarcely know how to yell, I consider. But when my soul is sorely troubled, I have my work to occupy my body and mind. There is always a heavy chore that needs doing, and 'tis soothing to be among the creatures, who are uncomplicated." He smiled at that, thinking of his unicorns. "And on the day of rest, or when I cannot work, I meditate on the Scripture or I draw a little."
"You draw?" Luke's brows shot up in interest. "I'd love to see some of your stuff, if that's okay. I love art and artistic things, but it's definitely not my gift." The waitress came back by with their hot chocolates and his pie. He smiled to see two forks, and pushed it in the middle of the table to share. "If you ever want, we could go out to the desert one night. Maybe not to scream, maybe just to watch the sky for a few hours. Most of my friends think I'm nuts when I go out there on my own, without, y'know, the m-word. But it's amazing."
"Aye, I consider it must be. I do love to wonder at the stars. It puts me in mind of the psalm --" Will had to take his ever-present little cloth-bound bible out of his cloak pocket to flip through unerringly to the page. "Aye, the eighth psalm. 'When I behold thine heavens, even the works of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained; what is man, say I, that thou art mindful of him? and the son of man that thou visitest him?'" He looked up at Luke, not noticing how his thumb was pressing in softly at the crook of Luke's elbow through his sleeve. "It makes me feel very small, and yet very important. Like a unicorn foal." Will smiled, and looked down. "I would be very glad to go to the desert with thee one night. And I would be glad to show thee my drawings, though they are no great things. I have my sketchbooks in my room, but--" He pulled his hand back to open the front pages of his bible and take out the four small pencil sketches, clearly done with care though on scraps of paper cut from something else, which he had carefully tucked away inside. "I made these," he said, and laid them gently out on the table for Luke to see. "They are my nieces and nephews."
Although on some level he was aware of that touch at his elbow, Luke definitely wasn't conscious enough of it to realize it was why he'd leaned forward a bit, and had slowly been inching to the edge of the booth seat. Their legs were really close, he realized with a bit of an internal start, but he made no move to close that tiny gap. Especially given the very reason he'd come out here in the first place. He smiled at the Psalm; it perfectly reflected how he felt out in the arid wild at night. But the emergence of Will's gorgeous drawings definitely pulled him out of further thoughts. "Oh, Will," he breathed. "These are stunning. God really graced you with a tremendous talent." Luke smiled up at him in open admiration. "I can't wait to see more sometime."
Will flushed with pleasure and embarrassment at the praise. "I thank thee," he answered. "I am untaught and unpolished, but I sketch often, nearly everywhere I go. I'll be glad to show thee my small works." He smiled back at Luke, cupping his hands around his mug of hot chocolate, and sipped to test the temperature. It was perfectly warm, sweet, and soothing, and he sighed, relaxing into the booth behind him. "I like art, too," he told him. "I have been to art museums. Hast thou seen them? I never knew that there were such places out in the world. At home, my folk would never allow such frivolity and vanity, but I consider 'tis wonderful to see. Though," he added, and flushed further, "some of the paintings I have seen are greatly licentious. 'Tis shocking the things that folk will display in public."
"You should probably never go to Europe. The ancient Greeks and Romans definitely didn't share you sensibilities. And let's not even get into the Renaissance. All of them, equal opportunity and just all over the place. Definitely never look up the David statue. You might have a heart attack," Luke gently teased, although the warning was real, "even if it's one of the most gorgeous things I've ever seen. Not in person, mind you. I took an art history class as an elective a couple of semesters ago. I never realized it could also double as an anatomy class."
It was almost calculated, the way he sliced into the to tip of the pie and came away with the only possible equilateral triangle bite in the entire slice. He offered it to Will. "Want some?"
He hesitated, because he thought Luke had to be hungry after coming all this way and should eat his food, but Luke's smile made it hard to refuse the offer. Will nodded, smiling back at him. "Aye. Thankee." He leaned forward, his knees bumping Luke's under the booth, to take the offered bit of sweet.
He'd never had chocolate pie before, and the look on his face was considering, but he nodded again once he'd swallowed. "'Tis good," he told his friend. "But thou should eat. I'm truly not hungry." He didn't shift back, though. There was a happy rightness to sitting inside a warm diner on a cold night with a person he liked and trusted, whose touch only made him reassured, not startled. "Hast thou been to Europe?" he inquired. "I'd like to go there someday. God's world is so big, and I have only seen the smallest parts of it."
Seeing as how Luke had fully intended for Will to take his fork, he had not at all expected him to eat the bite directly from it. The action felt so familiar, so close, that Luke was dazed for a second, and he felt his face grow warm again. Couple that with the casual way that Will's legs were now touching his, and Luke could feel his heart rabbiting in his chest. He took his own small bites--it was good, but really rich--as directed, but was kind of distracted from giving in the kind of attention he usually gave for good diner pie. It took him a second to answer, because--ha!--what were words anyway? "Just through the magic of the internet. And some history classes. I have some friends in school who've been a lot, and they always send me pictures. I'm saving up, though. Maybe as a graduation present in a few years. I'm really looking forward to seeing all the old buildings. Stuff that existed before America was even a gleam in some rich Italian, white explorer's exploitative mind."
Luke laughed at himself and shook his head. "That kind of makes me sound cynical, doesn't it? Don't pay me any mind. I get like this sometimes. In my head and spouting the first dumb thing that comes into it."
"I consider thou'rt never dumb," Will answered, probably more earnestly than the offhanded comment deserved, "and I could never pay thee no mind, Luke." He smiled and ducked his head, looking down at his cup of hot chocolate and wrapping his fingers around it. "When thou'rt finished with school, and have seen the old buildings in Europe, then what will thou do?"
Shifting a foot just slightly to one side and stretching it forward brought one leg more firmly against Will's. Luke found himself wanting to take his hand again, or at least to close around the one holding his mug. It was nice, being connected like this. They didn't have to talk about it. It was just a thing that existed, something easy, something without much thought and with zero expectations. He shrugged a shoulder and smiled again. "Probably something ministry related, if I have any say in it. I'm working on some prospects now, and I have an interview in a couple of days for an internship over the summer at an outreach place in Chicago. Fingers crossed--" he actually made the motion with both hands--"and God willing."
"Aye, God willing," Will echoed, though his heart clenched a little at the idea. He wasn't sure how far away Chicago was; he vaguely knew that it was in Central, but he'd never been to the city, and the Confederation was so much bigger than he'd ever thought possible back in the tiny world of Old Plymouth. "So thou may be gone soon. I…" He stopped the words before he could express regret, which wouldn't be very charitable when Luke was hopeful about this opportunity, and smiled instead. "I will pray for thee," he promised. "That thou will have the chance to be a blessing to the folk in Chicago, as thou hast been to me."
"I'm not going yet." Luke laughed and stopped fighting the urge to lean in so he could put his fingers against Will's wrist again. "I don't even know if I'll get in. This place gets hundreds of candidates every year. And maybe Chicago's a tiny bit closer to Snowcap than Las Vegas is. And you have the benefit of easy travel. You could come visit me if it works out. We can explore the city together. Did you know they have this giant silver bean? It's in a park near one of the art museums. We could go there too and be scandalized by the paintings and sculptures and stuff."
Will's eyes lit up at the idea. "Aye, I would like that very much, if thou will not be too busy. I have something called 'vacation days', and Mr. Wyrzykowski in the Human Resources says that I must 'use them or lose them'." He didn't do the thing with his fingers like Luke had, but the way his mouth moved unaccustomed around those words was enough to show the phrase was something he'd only heard and not fully understood. "I had thought of returning to Las Animas, where I worked for a season last year, but 'twould be a great pleasure to see Chicago instead, and the art museums." He beamed across at Luke, nudging his hand into his friend's touch out of excitement. "I would like that above all things."
His fingers slipped so easily over the curve of Will's palm that Luke didn't even notice. He'd somehow been making slow work of the pie and the hot chocolate and the water. With a grin and a nod of his own, he agreed wholeheartedly. "Even if I don't get it, we could still go. Take a few of your vacation days. It'll be great either way." His smile took on a thoughtful look, and he leaned forward. "Are you… Do you feel any better? I know I'm just kind of distracting you at this point, and I'm probably being a jerk bringing anything up again, but I'm not going to feel okay about leaving this diner if I even think you're gonna go back home and start feeling bad again."
Will looked down at their joined hands, and back up to meet Luke's eyes, his cheeks gone a little pink. He didn't take his hand away, though; there was easy comfort there that he'd been needing without knowing it. There was no one here to see and make assumptions, anyway; on a Sunday night the diner was nearly empty, and no one he knew was out this late. He nodded solemnly. "Aye, I understand. I consider…" He bit at his lip, looking down at his half-drunk chocolate. "I will try to feel okay. 'Tis not an easy thing, but I will try. I'll meditate on the Scripture thou gave me, and remember the abiding love and mercy of the Lord. Only--" Will hesitated, and glanced up to meet Luke's eyes again. "When I see him again -- Dr. Brightstar -- I am afeart I may think on it… too much. Because I have greatly admired him before." He flushed further, but kept his eyes on Luke. "How may I stop thinking of him in that way? I consider it must be wrong after what has happened."
"You shouldn't--" Luke broke off, searched for another word, but there wasn't one. He sighed and gave Will's hand a gentle squeeze. "Don't force yourself. You don't have to be totally okay. That was a bad way to put it. I meant more… I don't want you to torture yourself with…" He pushed out an exasperated sigh, because each suggestion was worse than the last, and--more than that-- they were selfish wishes. This was a kind of horrible revelation to have, to need someone as good as Will to be untarnished by a cruel and unfeeling world and to know that such a thing was impossible and that wishing it was so was asking entirely too much for one person.
He put up his free hand, as much for himself as anything else. Luke just needed a second before he said something stupid. More stupid. "Let me back up. Feel what you need to, yeah? Whatever you need to. And feel what you want, for that matter too. 'For if our heart condemn us, God is greater than our heart, and knoweth all things.' If you… feel things for this guy, then you feel things. But if that starts getting tangled up in what happened--and I'm sure it will--maybe try to take a step back. See which feeling is going where and why." He shook his head with a small frown and a crease forming between his eyebrows. "I'm sorry, I know I'm not making any sense. And I should really stop telling you what I think you should do. You're the only one who can feel your feelings. It's pure stubborn pride to believe that I can influence you one way or the other."
Will listened gravely to Luke's advice, as broken-up as it was, and nodded; in the end, it was up to him to manage his own thoughts and feelings. "Aye," he agreed again. "I will speak with my heart, and try to understand it. I will try to feel what I feel, and not judge or be ashamed." He looked down. "Though I consider 'tis not kind to my friend, Cate, to have such thoughts about her boyfriend." Even just the word made him flush further, and he tightened his grip on Luke's hand. "I would not want to hurt her. Luke… may I ask thee something that is greatly forward?"
An undignified thought flitted through Luke's mind: what makes that guy so special? But he recognized it for what it was and carefully put it away. Instead, he focused all of his attentions on Will. He couldn't really comment on his friend's misgivings or offer him a way to allay those feelings, that guilt, so instead he glommed onto that last question. "Of course. Anything."
Despite having permission to ask, Will stammered a little over the question, his flush deepening. "Art thou… hast thou ever… kissed someone?"
This was unexpected, yet somehow not so. He watched Will carefully now. Luke nodded slowly. "I have, yeah."
Will looked up at him, watching his face in return. He hadn't let go of Luke's hand. "Didst thou like it?" he asked, very softly.
Face warming, Luke gave another nod, this one slightly more shallow. "For the most part, yeah. It really depended on who I was with."
Will hadn't considered that Luke might have kissed many people, but of course, he was good-looking and charming and kind, and he was so confident in being what he was. Of course he had kissed many people. Will nodded back at him, swallowing back a moment of some emotion that felt hot and ugly inside him at the thought. "I had a friend, years ago when I was at home, who was a Stranger -- someone not of the Plymouth Congregation. I admired him greatly, and one day when we were in the woods together the devil took hold of me and I kissed him. I knew 'twas a wicked thing to do, but it felt…" He shook his head, unable to find the right words to describe it. "In the end I was very sorely sorry for it, for my friend was not -- he pushed me into the creek. I consider I must have made him feel like I did when Dr. Brightstar kissed me, and that makes me sorely ashamed." Will looked down at their joined hands again. "If I ever saw him again, I would beg his forgiveness. I did not consider until now how greatly I may have harmed him. I pray I have not shocked thee too greatly," he added to the table.
It shouldn't have been possible for his heart to break anymore for the man sitting across from him, but it did and it was. Luke's throat tightened, and he had to swallow around it before he continued. He didn't let go of Will's hand, and squeezed it a little more firmly. "You couldn't have known. Not unless you asked. And I can see why you wouldn't have. I'm not sure I would have. I've gotten better about being direct with who I am and what I want, but I've made more than a few mistakes like that. Moments where I let something other than my heart direct me. One last piece of unsolicited advice, okay? Just one, and then I'm gonna shut up about this. Talk to people. Be really upfront about what you do and don't want. I know it's hard, believe me. It took me awhile to get there, even just to myself, and I struggle too, a lot. It's hard to know what you want with you're 47, let alone nineteen. Cut yourself a little slack, yeah? You've got ages to fig--"
His phone gave a peculiar little trill, the notification one that would come through despite the fact that he'd muted any alerts. Luke dug it out of his pocket it, unlocked it, and quickly scanned the contents. His face fell, but then he laughed wryly and shook his head. "You don't happen to know this place's policy on all-night patronage, do you? My ride home just fell through. Won't be able to come get me until late morning tomorrow. Oops."
Will jumped at the alert from Luke's phone, so that his leg jostled against his friend's, and he took his hand back automatically, like he'd been caught doing something wrong. He drank most of his remaining hot chocolate while Luke checked his phone, his mind running over the advice to talk about what he wanted and didn't want. It seemed impossible to ever be so confident, so forward, especially when he didn't really know what he wanted-- he looked up at Luke when he spoke again, and raised his eyebrows.
"I don't know," he answered after giving it a moment's thought, "but Luke, of course thou must sleep with me. I could not abide leaving thee without a bed -- and I am up before the dawn, but I'll not disturb thee, so thou canst have thy rest." He smiled hopefully at his friend. "'Tis the very least I can do for thee."
Some of that deep red blush that had been on display in his earlier bout of nearly hysterical laughter came rushing right back to his cheeks. The phrasing, after what they'd just been talking about, gave Luke significant pause. Here was where he should be shaking his head no, and saying he'd take the floor, but it was doing the opposite. He was nodding as his chest went tight. "Um, sure?" He mentally berated himself for the direction his thoughts had gone in, painting himself the hypocrite for what he'd just said to the other man about being open and honest. But time and place was also a thing to consider, and this was not it. Especially not right now. "If-if you're sure. It's, uh, I think it's my turn to say that I don't want to put you out."
"Nay, 'tis no trouble for me." Will shrugged one shoulder, smiling at him easily. "I am accustomed to sharing, or I was. At home, I slept with my brother many years until he was gone and married, and I--" He paused, taking in the color on Luke's face, and belatedly understood what was making him blush like that. "O-or if 'tis not proper in thine eyes, being grown, of course thou shalt have my bed and I will sleep on the ground. Or thou shalt have my room and I will sleep with the unicorns. I've often slept with the beasts, 'tis no hardship." He was blushing himself now, and doing his best to keep his mind away from the unworthy thoughts that had come into his head. "Whatever thou will, Luke."
"No, it's fine, really! With you is… what I want. Please." His gaze darted quickly from Will's eyes to his lips and then to one side, where the check was, and Luke had to wonder if it was magic, because he'd never even seen their waitress so much as pass their table again. Despite the man's initial offer on their way in, he snagged it without much thought. "Since you're putting me up for the night, let me get this. It's no big deal, really. The check or your bed. It's cool. We're all good. I'm just being dumb."
Will shook his head, reaching out to cover Luke's hand with his own. "Nay, I could never consider thee dumb." He was still pink-cheeked, but he smiled. "And I could never let my guest pay. 'Twould make me a stingy host indeed, and my parents would be ashamed to have taught me so poorly." He gently slid the bit of paper from under Luke's hand and glanced at the total, then pulled his coin purse from his cloak pocket and carefully counted out the necessary coins for their small bill. He added an extra eagle to the total, having been taught about tipping during his first year out in the world, and busied himself gathering up his drawings and tucking them back into his little bible, which he deposited into his pocket again. "When thou'rt ready, we could go. I live up on the reserve, in the bunkhouse with the other young people. 'Tis nothing fancy, but 'tis comfortable for me."
As he watched Will, Luke became aware of two things: one, the way that Will meticulously handled his money was probably the most adorable thing he'd ever seen a human being do, and two, he really liked Will. Really liked Will. Like, questioning whether or not spending the night in his room was such a good idea liked him. But he was stranded, and even though he'd already made it a little awkward, he had this tiny thing called self-restraint that he could exercise like a rational person. "Thoughts aren't actions," he said to himself. Aloud. Must've been more tired than he thought. Louder, he went on. "Yeah, I'm ready."