Of course Will knew James' decision. Fisher wouldn't have been there asking if he could go get him if he didn't think, know, have been encouraged that there was actually something to go and get. That's what hurt, possibly more than most of the other things that went hand in hand with this. Like the sheer desire to tear open the door, throw his arms around him and kiss him. Or hit him. Will couldn't decide which he'd rather do.
Deciding to stay on his side of the door Will's palms splayed out against the wood. He didn't know James was still there but he imaged he was. His James. Except not. James had never been his, always been Fisher. Will had been roped along as a side project just to make James 'get over' Fisher. Nothing more. When he heard James speak Will jumped, leaning away from the door. Why hadn't he just gone away?
"Go fuck yourself," Will snapped, harsh words being spat at his side of the door. It was easier to be angry than to allow himself to feel the heartache over this. James was a douche. His behaviour, his practice throughout all of this... fucking douche.