WHAT: Will finally realizes that his feelings for Xichen are more than just best friend feelings WHERE: Serendipity Hills WHEN: Backdated to Serendipity Hills WARNINGS: Just fluff STATUS: Complete
Xichen hadn’t meant to snuggle up to Will in his sleep. His body, always under such impeccable control in his waking hours, had betrayed him. If the world were not a cruel and cold place, perhaps this would have resulted in his best friend cuddling in closer and saying something like I’ve always wanted to wake up like this. Instead they’d separated with blushes and stammered apologies, and Xichen had gone running to his first yoga class of the day.
During the sunrise practice, somewhere in the transition from chaturanga dandasana to urdhva mukha svanasana, Xichen realized what this incident had been: a wake-up call. Will Laurence did not love him romantically, and he was never going to. It was something Xichen should have realized after his disastrous attempt at a confession the year before, and perhaps he thought he had. He’d convinced himself that he could keep being the closest of friends with Will and still manage to get over the terrible longing in his heart. But what had this year been if not proof that he couldn’t simply shut those feelings off like a running tap? As long as he was still spending every day with Will, attempts to get over him were doomed.
It was time to create some distance. That would solve it, Xichen thought. If he wasn’t sharing nearly every meal with Will and going to events with him and essentially acting like they were married, then he could shift his focus. Maybe he’d take Margot up on her offer to set him up with that friend of a friend from her book club. He could move on, if he just made a proper effort at it. Separating was the only logical choice now.
So why did his throat close up when he met Will before dinner and said “We need to talk”?
Will was, well, not entirely sure of himself these last few days. This last year he’d felt like there’d been something missing with him and Xichen, though he’d never been able to put his finger on it. Not that he’d especially tried, really; sometimes that was just how life was, and he wasn’t dissatisfied with any aspect of his relationship with Xichen.
But then they’d come to this hotel, and by some mix-up with their booking, they’d wound up in a room with only one bed. One bed that was perfectly comfortable for both of them to sleep on, and so Will had had no objections to sharing, even if he had woken up more than once with limbs embarrassingly entangled with his best friend, his heart thudding in his chest and his mouth dry with… with what? Want? Desire?
No, that was ridiculous. Xichen was his friend. Xichen was his best friend, and Xichen had never wanted, would never want, anything from him but friendship.
And then there’d been the book of poetry. He’d wanted something for Xichen for Christmas, but he didn’t share the same love of poetry that Xichen did. He’d been forced to read it in his long-past school days, and had never read it again in his adult life, aside from the poems that Xichen sometimes wrote or would recommend that he read. But Xichen was his closest friend, and he’d wanted something that could express, in words more eloquent than anything Laurence could ever muster, how much he cared for him. And so he’d found this book, and had thumbed through a couple of the poems, and at first there’d been no problem at all. They’d perfectly encapsulated all the feelings he had toward his long-term friend and business partner.
And then, much more slowly than Will would have ever admitted to anyone without a great deal of embarrassment, he’d realized that this was a book of love poetry.
Which surely couldn’t be correct. He loved Xichen, in the way a friend loves his closest friend. It was friendship that made him always want to be near Xichen’s side, wasn’t it? It certainly wasn’t love that made Will crave Xichen’s smiles like a fish craved water – anyone who’d seen that smile would have been instantly bewitched by it, he was sure. Anyone with eyes would admire the perfect cascade of Xichen’s silky hair over his shoulders and down his back when he wore it loose from his bun, or would get lost in those eyes when Xichen looked at Will like he was the only important thing in the room. It wasn’t love to have basic levels of observation.
He was studying him now, watching how the setting sun reflected through the windows off his golden skin, wondering what it would be like to kiss him in a purely friendly, academic sense, when he became aware that Xichen had said something to him. He started, and thought frantically back to his recent memory to the words he’d heard but not listened to.
“Yes?” Will asked, forcing his mind back to the present. “What’s on your mind?”
There it was again: that choking feeling that made Xichen feel like he was trying to swallow his own tongue. His heart was breaking all over again; how was he meant to talk when he felt like this? He had to force himself to speak, and already he could feel the tears behind his eyes threatening to flood his face and wash away what dignity he had left.
“I can’t carry on the way we have any longer,” he said. “It isn’t good for me, and it probably isn’t good for you, either.”
Oh. Oh, something was very wrong. A chill ran through his veins. Will wasn’t entirely sure what was wrong – he hadn’t thought they’d been carrying on in any particular way at all – but he knew that something must have been. “Xichen? I… forgive me, I don’t understand,” he said, moving to place a comforting hand on his arm.
If anyone else in the world had been breaking Xichen’s heart, he would have leaned into that touch until it turned into a hug. Usually Will was the very best comfort in the world for him. This time Xichen couldn’t allow him to be that—couldn’t allow it ever again, or at least not for a long time. Not if he wanted to actually succeed in moving on.
Xichen took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying valiantly to find his center in the way that usually came so easily. It didn’t come easily today, or at all, but he opened his eyes and pushed through to quietly say what needed to be said.
“I have done my best to bury my feelings for you, to be only your friend, but I have failed. I think I need…I need distance for those feelings to die.”
Will was more confused than ever. Oh, Xichen’s words made sense, in an abstract sort of way, though his mind snagged on ‘I need some distance’ and repeated it over and over again.
He dropped his hand, and floundered for a moment. He wanted very hard to take Xichen’s face in his hands to look into his eyes, but he forced his hand to stay at his side. If Xichen needed space, he would give it to him. He wouldn’t force himself where he was unwelcome, as much as it pained him. But he was sure that somewhere along the line, some vital piece of communication had been lost, and he was trying, trying very hard, to think over the last few days to where he must have missed something.
“Please wait,” he said. “Here, let’s sit down and talk about this,” he said, trying not to let any sort of desperation or hurt creep into his voice, though he wasn’t sure if he’d been entirely successful. He sat down on the edge of the bed, leaving enough space for Xichen to sit next to him.
“What do you mean, your feelings for me?” he asked.
Xichen sighed faintly as he sat. He couldn’t bring himself to turn and run, despite how part of him wanted to. He owed Will the truth; it could be one last act of friendship for the man who deserved so much better than someone who couldn’t stop wanting him.
“I mean that though you were very kind to give me a chance to be your friend, I have failed,” Xichen said, looking down at his hands so he wouldn’t have to see the shock and disappointment he was sure Will must be experiencing. “Every time you smile at me, my heart still flutters. Each time you cook dinner for me, I still wish I didn’t have to go home afterward. I still love you.”
“It wasn’t kind of me to give you a chance to be my friend, Xichen, any more than it was for you to call me your friend. You have failed at nothing,” Will said, because that was, by far, the easiest part of the statement to respond to. One he could answer while turning his mind to untangling the rest of what Xichen had said.
There was no misinterpreting Xichen’s words. Will’s own heart fluttered when he saw Xichen’s smile, and wished they could somehow spend more time together than they did, and while he might have considered those friendly feelings before, he was no longer sure that was the case. And the way that Xichen spoke of them, he knew that Xichen hadn’t meant them in a platonic sense.
What he couldn’t figure out was why Xichen was telling him in a way that implied that WIll should have known all of this. How could he have. Except…
“Xichen,” he said slowly. “Last year, when you told me you loved me, you didn’t mean as a friend, did you?”
“No, I—” Xichen looked up, stunned. “You thought I went through all that only to say that I love you as a friend?” He could hardly believe it. How could he have flubbed a confession so badly that Will didn’t even realize he was confessing?
“Yes, well, I'm sure you regret it now that you know what a bellend I am,” Will said, tone light but he could feel himself colour straight to the roots of his blond hair. He was mortified that that he’d been as oblivious to Xichen’s feelings as he has been to his own, that he'd been blind to Xichen's distress for this last year. He has noticed that there'd been some level of reservation to his friend, but he hadn't known the cause and had been half-convinced that he'd imagined it.
“Here, hold on a moment,” he said, getting up from the bed and rushing to one of the drawers in the hotel dresser that he'd claimed for his own. He dug under his undergarments and emerged with the book of poetry.
“I'd meant for this to be your Christmas present, but maybe now's a better time for it,” he said, presenting the book to Xichen with both hands. “You know that I've never been good at expressing myself. In fact, I'm afraid I'm even worse at recognizing my own feelings. It's only recently…” he cleared his throat. “Xichen, I have never had a friend who I cared about as much as I've cared for you. There's never been a friend with whom I could share all my thoughts and silly desires, and who I wanted to spend all my time with. And so, for all these years, I thought it was friendship that buoyed me up when I heard your voice, and friendship that made my heart beat stronger when I could coax a laugh from your lips. I thought that any day with you in it was brighter than those without because of how much I valued the company of my dearest confidant. But I think I've been rather obtuse all this time, Xichen. I think I've been passionately in love with you for years.”
Xichen managed to look even more completely stunned. This was everything he’d ever wanted to hear. In his fondest, wildest dreams, this was what Will said when he confessed. Xichen hardly knew how to process it as reality.
Yet here it was. In real life, in this romantic ski lodge room decorated for Christmas, Will Laurence said he was in love with him. Will had gotten him a book of poetry, and Will loved him.
Slow as a sunrise, a smile came to Xichen’s face, and just a few pretty tears escape his eyes.
“You are incredibly obtuse,” he said as he wiped his eyes, still beaming. “And you should make up for it by kissing me now.”
“Gladly.” Will cupped Xichen’s face between his palms, and kissed him.