Feels Like Starting Over

Present day

Will had planned on calling his best friend so he could get Peter's take on what was currently going on with his relationship. The more he thought about it, though, the more convinced he was that it would be best for him to go over to Pete's and talk to him face to face. There were still some issues for them to sort out, so perhaps they could do that as well. What he really wanted was to be with someone who wouldn't hover over him. His mother was a wonderful woman, but she would stick to his side the second she knew Will was feeling a little down.
( Read more... )

[LOCKED]

Present day

I'm really doing it.

In a few days, I am going to ask the man I love to be mine. Really mine.

I'm so positive that it's the right thing to do, I'm feeling completely confident about it. But, sometimes, I start to worry that it's too soon. Then again, is there anything we've done that hasn't been thought of as "too soon" by some? And why should we be bothered by anyone else's opinions, anyway? I know how I feel and I know what I want. It's him. His is the only opinion that matters. He's the only one who can make the final decision.

I don't want to make him feel as if I'm pushing him to move too quickly, though. I love him. I adore him. I can't think of anything I'd rather do than spend my life with him. But if he's not ready for this, I'll understand. I really will. I want to make him as happy as he makes me.

I know he loves me. He never lets me doubt that for a moment. I know that when he looks at me, I'm the only person he sees. I know that he trusts me and is confident in my love for him.

Then why am I so scared? No, not scared. That would imply I don't want to do this. No matter the outcome, I know I want to do this.

I'm nervous. I feel as if I'm going to be holding my breath until I finally ask him. It's so strange to feel nervous when I think about anything connected to him. But I'm excited. I can't stop thinking about our future or how much I love him or how happy he makes me. Sometimes I want to cry because the things I feel for him are so overwhelming. This has never happened to me before, and I can only imagine what kind of life I would have had if I'd felt a tiny fraction of this kind of love for Talia. But I couldn't because she wasn't who I was supposed to be with forever.

He's thoughtful, he's beautiful both inside and out, he makes me laugh, he's caring and shows a humanity that can take my breath away. That's only part of what makes me love him. He's also brutally honest about himself and makes no excuses for the mistakes he's made in the past. He has told me so much about his past, and he's owned up to everything he's done that hurt other people. It breaks my heart that he's harder on himself than any of them could ever be, but I know he's a good man and that's why he cares so much. I also know he's afraid of hurting me, too, but I'm going to do everything in my power to convince him that he doesn't have to be afraid of ever doing that. No matter what happens, I'm always going to love him. I can't help it.

A few more days. That's all. I never thought I'd want to do it again, but he's changed my life and shown me what love really is.

I'm really doing it. I'm really going to ask him to marry me.

Please let him say yes.

October 2006

"Can we not make this about you, please?"

Peter put down his glass and frowned at his friend. "I'm sorry?"

"You may not have noticed it, but every single thing I've brought up in my story, you've managed to turn it into something about you."

"I hadn't noticed," Peter shrugged.

"Yeah, well, you have."

"Sorry." Peter took a sip of his drink. "Why don't you finish your story."

"Thank you," Will scowled. "Anyway, like I was saying, the woman had the biggest cucumber in her cart that I had ever seen. I mean, it would have been vulgar to me if I didn't already have the dirtiest mind in three counties. I couldn't stop staring at it!"

Peter giggled and shook his head. "I flirted with a guy in the produce section once, using nothing but..." He stopped when he noticed Will's annoyed expression. "I'm doing it again, aren't I?"

"Mmm hmm."

"I'm sorry. Go ahead."

Will sighed and continued. "Anyway, she caught me looking at it and walked away so quickly, I knew she thought I was a pervert."

"God, that reminds me of the time..." Peter pressed his lips together. "Sorry."

Shaking his head, Will looked at his friend for a few long moments before continuing. "So I go to check out, and the woman's in the line next to me. There also happened to be some rag with a picture of Orli and me on the cover right next to her and she sort of did a double take and I knew she recognized me."

He paused then, looking at Peter expectantly.

"What?" Peter asked, taking another sip.

"You're not interrupting me."

"Oh." Peter smiled. "That's only because I've never been in the tabloids."

Title: Letter to Santa
Word Count: 259
Rating: G
Notes: Present day
Summary: Will's feeling goofy and pens a letter to Santa.

( Letter to Santa )

Age 17

"What're you staring at?"

"Huh?"

Peter poked Will in the side, making the other boy giggle. "I said, what're you staring at?"

Will pointed at his bedroom ceiling. "If you stare really hard at the popcorn, you can see pictures."

They'd been lying on Will's bed, trying to decide what to do with their afternoon. So far, all they'd accomplished was listening to some CDs and speculating on George Michael's sexuality. Staring at the ceiling was the first official sign that they were completely bored.

"What're you talking about?" Pete grinned, scooting closer to Will and looking at the ceiling, too.

"You know how you can see shapes in clouds and stuff?" Will said, smiling at his friend. "Well, you can kinda do that with the little bumps in the ceiling."

"You're full of shit."

"I'm not!" Will laughed, then raised his arm to point at the area above his Madonna poster. "Over there, I see a devil riding a rocking horse."

Peter laughed and grabbed Will's arm, pulling it back down. "Okay, now I know you're full of shit."

"I can't help it if you have no imagination," Will giggled, letting Peter hold his hand for a few moments before gently pulling away from him. "Come on, let's go see what Keith and Jerry are doing."

Looking a little disappointed, Peter sat up and nodded. "You don't want to keep hanging out here?"

Will lowered his eyes and shrugged. "Nah. It's boring here."

"I could think of stuff for us to do, if you want." Peter stood up and hesitated for a second before putting a hand on Will's shoulder. "Remember..."

"No," Will said firmly. He knew that Peter was going to bring up the one time they kissed or made out or whatever it was. But they'd both been drunk and Will had vowed it wouldn't happen again. "I'm sorry, Pete... I... I'm..."

Peter sighed and dropped his hand. "Yeah, I know. You're bored," he said softly, letting it go.

August 2005

It had been two weeks since his move to Seattle, and Will had never felt more homesick in his life. The new job was going all right, everyone seemed nice enough, but he didn't feel as if he belonged here. He had an assistant who seemed to have a good head on her shoulders despite the fact that she had taken it on herself to help Will with his social life. Now, sitting in front of the television with his Healthy Choice frozen dinner on a TV tray, he wondered if he should have taken her up on it. That thought disappeared as quickly as it had entered his head.

The truth of it was that Will didn't want to be social. He didn't want to put down any real roots here. This wasn't his home. His home was in Hartford with Mom and Peter, and he hated that he had ever thought starting a new life on the other side of the country was a good idea. There was nothing familiar here, he had no friends and didn't even know anyone besides the people at work.

Glancing at the phone, Will considered calling Pete just to say hi, but he'd promised himself he wouldn't wimp out and call his friend just because he was feeling down. He wanted Peter to have a life of his own and not worry about him all the time. But it was hard not to pick up the phone and dial. He just wanted to go home.

He got up and took his uneaten dinner into the kitchen, dumped it into the trash, and picked up the bottle of scotch on the counter. Not bothering with a glass, he uncapped it and took a long swallow. It felt good going down and when it settled in his belly, warm and comforting, he began to feel a little better. He took the bottle with him when he went to sit down on the couch to watch TV. It didn't matter what was on, and the more he drank, the less anything seemed to matter.

Maybe tomorrow would be better.


100Moods Table

The warmth of the house when we come in from the cold makes it feel as if I have pins pricking my face as my skin begins to heat. You look like you belong on a Christmas card, the picture of someone reveling in all the joys of winter. I love to see your cheeks so flushed, rosy from being outside in the cold, brisk winter air. Your hands are like ice when I help you peel off gloves soaked through from helping to build a snowman (and tossing some well-aimed snowballs), so I kiss them and tell you no touching any warm bits until your fingers have thawed. I smile at your red nose, stifling the urge to start whistling Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Kissing it and giving it a little nibble helps with that. Despite the wool hat you had pulled down over your head, your ears are pink and I can't help laughing when I kiss them and joke about little icicles hanging from them. I help you out of your wet coat, pausing to kiss your frozen lips before you help me out of mine. It's been a perfect winter day spent playing in the snow with Wendell and Blade. The back of my shirt's wet from the snow you shoved down there, but the back of your jeans shows the results of my revenge. We're both freezing and race deeper inside the house to warm up.

In the kitchen, you put the kettle on the stove so we can have some tea. In the living room, I stoke the fire, adding some wood to it to help heat the room a little faster. Wendell and Blade rush to curl up in front of the comforting glow, tired and cold from their playtime with us. When you come into the living room while we wait for the water to boil, I take your hands in mine and lead you over to the sofa. I rub your hands gently to warm them, then dodge quickly when you try to slip them under my shirt. The fire crackles and pops, making little Wendell start. He flashes me an annoyed look as he takes his position next to Blade again, blaming me for the sudden noise, I'm sure. There's a blanket on the back of the couch, but before I grab it, I take off my wet shirt and encourage you to get out of your wet things, too. When we're both free of our clothes, I wrap the blanket around us so we can huddle together for warmth. Still giggling about the oddly shaped snow thing we built together, I kiss you and inform you that you are hands down the best way to fight the cold. Then, putting my arms around you as you snuggle closer, I smile and kiss the top of your head, determined to keep you warm.

Title: Under the Weather
Prompt: 089. Sick
Word Count: 770
Rating: G
Notes: Takes place in 2000
Summary: Talia has to deal with a sick Will.

( Under the Weather )

Title: Judge Not
Word Count: 1136
Rating: PG-13
Notes: The opinions expressed in this bit of fiction are the pup's and only reflect the mun's feelings as much as the opinons of the pups tearing Orli a new asshole reflect their muns' true feelings. Which is not at all, right? :-) *kisses*
Summary: Will and his mom have a late night talk about the trouble Orlando's having.

( Judge Not )