Out of Touch

5

A/N - Intentionally slightly shorter chapter for plot purposes.

Nursing a cup of water, Will eagerly watches on as fans spill into the venue. He's at one of James' gigs, for some unknown reason. Well, he knows why. Because he wants to see the taller man grace the stage again, like he did when Will went to see him in France. He didn't enjoy being in France, but he'd be a liar if he said it wasn't even a mildly pretty country to be in. Despite his loud and blatant rambles about how he despises France and the French, he actually had little to no trouble entering the country and everybody he's come across has been refreshingly accommodating.

He'd never admit it though.

Young, troubled individuals scatter around the venue, eagerly crawling like little critters to their desired spaces to see James. A collection of pride flags fly past Will's nose as they run past. James Marriott fans are either gay or plagued by mental illness. Or a concoction of both. Very rare to find a straight, emotionally settled Marriott fan. Maybe I'm the first, Will thinks.

He perches on a bar stool, realising that the water he'd selected to drink, although free, was certainly not the best choice. He knows several people are staring at him for a second longer than is comfortable, realising that William Lenney is at another James gig. Shameful, really. He'd much rather be with Lando Norris at some minor airport flying to God knows where. Oh well, James would do.

Will shakes his head at himself. Why is he acting unbothered? He'd been thinking about seeing James perform live again for weeks. All the tickets had sold out. But he's WillNE, he managed to get in. He reluctantly sips his water, eyeing the fans around him who are giving him excitable waves and calling his name. He doesn't want to take a photo. Unlike James, Will isn't really a photo person. James is just the friendlier of them, the golden retriever to his black cat. Jesus, he needs to get offline once in a while.

Screams envelope him in a distinctively overwhelming atmosphere of teenage enthusiasm. It actually makes him realise that he's getting too old for this, but since swapping his mediocre plastic cup of water for an overpriced pint, he's much happier. The alcohol slips down his throat pleasantly and it makes him settle at the back of the room. Unlike James' fans, he can actually interact with the posh lad, so he doesn't really see a point in taking up a spot near the front.

The venue falls dark. He can barely see his hands in front of his face as the array of eager whispers attacks his ears and the thick, claustrophobic air clings to his lungs. This swamp of utter crowding didn't seem to bother him, though, after he saw him.

Flashing lights, pride flags flying, phone torches lit, James enters the stage. The screams are almost oppressive and yet, the moment is beautiful. Will can't help but giggle, his thumbs twiddling around his pint, a jubilant smile etched across his face. Unbeknownst to him, he's blushing like a schoolgirl with a crush; his cheeks a rosy pink glow. James is... something else entirely. His curly mullet bounces as he dances on stage, his strong arms gripping the microphone, his suit fitting his body in all the right places. God, Will thinks, that's really unhinged to think about another man.

James' angelic voice soothes the audience, Will feeling a familiar sensation of pride. That's his friend. His best mate. As if on cue, James' eyes scan the crowd and connect with Will's gaze. Will smiles, reassuringly. James stutters, eyes locked for a second too long before breaking away with a shy glance elsewhere.

"You seem like that kind of guy, to play me tonight..." James breathes, his voice cascading over Will's body and making him feel ridiculously lost in the moment. Car Lights reminds him of when James came out as... well... not straight. Will can't help but feel the moment is bittersweet, his best friend for years struggling with such strong internal feelings. He almost feels stupid for not realising it sooner. He follows James' eyes with such an intensity that James feels it and connects their gaze once again. There are tears in his eyes as he sings, "I hate what you're doing, I hate that it feels so right."