Will Stutely (sly_stutely) wrote in nevermore_logs, @ 2021-11-07 21:34:00 |
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There’d never been a question in Will’s mind about who he was gonna tell first. He had Tuck to thank for introducing him to Clio to begin with. For that, and a hell of a lot more than he could put into words. A year and a half ago, he’d trusted Tuck with his worst secret. It’d been a shitty thing to lay on him, but Tuck had carried it all this time without a word of complaint. He’d been Will’s confessor and he’d offered his help at a time when Will hadn’t believed help was a possibility, let alone something he deserved. Now Will had the best secret, and there was nobody he wanted to share it with more. That didn’t mean he wasn’t a tad antsy, walking up the path to the parsonage. There was nothing stolen about the happiness he’d found with Clio; they’d come by it honestly and they’d fought damn hard to hold onto it. But Will still fretted about counting his chickens too early. He knew it wasn’t possible to jinx a thing by saying it, he wasn’t superstitious, it was just— well, you know, Clio was only seven weeks along, and— not that anything was gonna happen, but— but the thought was still there, at the back of his head, in that paranoid instinct that had him eyeing up escape routes and scanning for tails even on a quiet street. It was a good instinct for an outlaw to have. But sometimes Will still had to remind himself that the home and family he had with Clio wasn’t an illicit bounty that could be snatched back at any minute. Squashing down the twinge of nerves, Will rapped on the door, calling out, “Ay up, Friar!” |