recreational idiocy | wilbur soot

𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲

𝐯𝐢𝐚

"i'm sorry. that wasn't how i'd planned on... i mean- i was going to wait, or.. " he trails off nervously, seemingly unsure of what to say.

"are you sure?" i ask quietly, with the all of breath left in me, which is admittedly not much. i don't remember when i began holding it, but the lack of oxygen is less bothersome than the total inadequacy of any words that i could speak back to him in that moment.

the question was a reflex- suddenly i am nineteen again and laying next to carter in the glow of a salt lamp in my old flat in bristol, staring at the ceiling decorated with glow-in-the-dark stars and planets so i don't have to look at him.

" 'course im sure, liv. what kind of question is that?"

and i never fully believed him, because carter was carter, and for him that meant the only thing that he would ever be sure of was his career in journalism, which he eventually decided was much more important than i was to him.

"via? via, look at me darling, please."

wilbur's voice brings me back to the present, where i finally notice the tears streaming down my face. i haven't the slightest idea how they came to be there, but there they were nonetheless. how long have i been crying? i wonder to myself.

"i've never been more sure of anything in my entire life, olivia," he whispers, wiping my tears away as they fall. "please believe that."

and did i? could i believe him?

"i do, i believe you"

"so what are you bloody sobbing for then?" he jokes lightly. "i'm not so terrible a boyfriend, am i?"

"no," i laugh. "not terrible. though your hair does leave something to be desired at the present moment." i finish, tugging on a strand of it.

"say what you want, but the e-girls totally dig the hair," he responds in a startlingly good american accent.

"too bad you're taken," i muse.

"right, of course. no egirls for me." he responds, feigning disappointment. i toss the book i read from at him and lay back against the carpet, giggling.

-

"oh. my. god."

"what's happened?" wil asks, looking up from his spot on the floor. i'm sat on the round table in the room we've claimed as our base for the night, staring at the treasure i've just found in the old schoolbag i'd brought for provisions.

"wanna do something stupid?" i ask, tossing him a baggie.

"what's- oh. ohhh." he says, understanding slowly dawning on his features as he realises what i've found.

"i haven't used this bag for months- i can't believe i forgot about the stash!"

he's silent for a moment, looking down at the baggie in his hands. "well have you got a light?" he finally asks, a smile playing across his face.

and suddenly we are sat atop a bookcase. a bloody massive bookcase at that. i hardly know how we managed to get up here, where the carpet below looks miles down, but i am silently thanking the great architectural geniuses that have made this beautiful piece of furniture.

and the books! so. many. books. it's like heaven for readers here. paradise for the intellectual. purgatory for dislexics who also like to enjoy the majesty of literature.

"do you think librarians actually like their jobs?" wil queries, leaning back on his hands. "i don't think i've ever seen a single happy librarian in my life. they are always scowling and making that gesture that means 'shove off' and shushing people."

"really? my experience with librarians are nearly always positive," i respond.

"you've been a very lucky girl, olivia burton. which is suprising considering your penchant for absolutely idiotic schemes. i mean, i thought i wasn't the brightest star in the sky but you're even dimmer than i am"

i laugh before answering back, "the difference between you and i, will gold, is that my particular brand of idiocy is strictly recreational."

"is that so? well, i-" he starts out. but suddenly his expression changes, and i see a flicker of shock move across his face right before the arm he's leaning against goes out from behind him and his hand loses its grip, sending him toppling off the side of the bookcase.

the monstrous fucking bookcase that seems fit for a giant.

"fuck!" he groans, rolling over as i climb down as quickly as i can, rushing over to see if anything's broken.

"are you okay? where does it hurt? did you break anything?" i ask, the questions firing off my tongue as i help him to sit, my hands flitting around whilst i check for injuries.

"calm down, i'm alright," he says, his face twisted into an expression of concern rather than pain. "are you?"

i'm on the brink of hysterics, thinking of what a stupid idea it was to sit on the bookcase in the first place. what if he'd landed on his arm? or his neck? the mere thought prevents me from even vaguely attempting to answer the question.

"i'm completely fine, v," he says reassuringly. "it wasn't even that high of a drop, honestly. why are you so upset?" he asks, and i swear i see a hint of a smirk on his face. this frustrates me to no end- how can he be so casual?

"because!" i answer huffily, standing up.

"er, care to elaborate?" he chuckles, head tilted questioningly. "oh, piss off." i scoff, still annoyed at his lack of concern for himself.

"just answer the question." he says, still looking at me full in the face with that stupid half smile. "it isn't that difficult. why so concerned?"

"because i'm in love with you, you absolute twat!" i shout in a rush, the words leaving my mouth faster than the random paperback i toss at his head. "and you have to go and fall off a sodding bookcase right after you tell me that you feel the same! and now you're sat there, acting completely unbothered, as if you haven't hurt yourself!"

his change in expression is instant. his face transforms from gloating to stunned, and he's silent for a moment while i glare at him. then suddenly, he starts talking so fast that i nearly can't keep up.

"you aren't just saying that, are you? to make me feel better? because you know i wouldn't pressure you. i never ever want you to lie for my sake. in fact, i was debating telling you so early for this very reason. so you wouldn't feel the need to reciprocate, i mean. because you shouldn't. i mean, you shouldn't not love me. thats not what i mean. obviously. wait. what was i on about again?"

his cheeks are tinged pink from both embarrassment and the lack of oxygen, as he spoke so quickly. it's a good look for him.

the question is completely ridiculous, of course. how could i not love him? how could anyone who has ever had the pleasure of being in the presence of will gold not love him?

how could anyone who has ever seen him interact with the boy he views as a brother not be totally enthralled by him? or listened to him talk to his guitar?

"wait a minute- you thought it odd when i told you caddy's car has a name when we were in the car park, but you have a guitar called simone? is that not exactly the same thing?"

the question is so far away from the topic at hand that it takes him a moment to answer. "simone is so much different than a car, via. she has personality. she needs to be treated gently, and with respect! of course she has a name."

the response is so utterly in character for him that i start to giggle. he looks at me with wide, incredulous eyes, and that sets me off even more- i laugh until my ribs ache, and tears stream down my face. he joins me midway through my fit, having no clue what we're laughing at, but laughing just the same.

once we finally settle down, i take his hand in mine and look him directly in the eye. "i meant it. i love you, will gold. i am completely, hopelessly, unconditionally in love with you."

and the words feel so completely right that i can't help but smile.