Out of Touch

9

In hindsight, completely ghosting James was a childish decision. Will made it thinking that it would be the best for the both of them, to keep them at bay whilst he stews over James' confession. He couldn't have been more wrong, actually. Realistically, hundreds of messages from James and several calls should have been answered- or at least 'read' or 'reacted to'- but he didn't bother even looking at them.

Something in his heart would wrench and twist whenever he hovered his eager thumb over the reply button. He didn't like the feeling. Hence, he never responded.

Three weeks have passed since James' unexpected (however, almost predictable) confession. Three sessions worth of recording a 'Will and Jim' that Will has cancelled. He doesn't know how many more he can cancel before his fans go feral. Before James goes feral, even. He hasn't had the privilege of seeing James' iced coffee next to his own for a ridiculously long time, it seems. He's still paying Mikey. He doesn't know why. He has nothing to edit.

Why is he here? Because he's scared? Possibly. He misses James' touch, his voice, his soft composure. God, he misses everything. He's out of his depth.

His tired eyes gaze out of the cafe window. Couples pass, laughing together. The occasional student on their way to class picks up a coffee at the counter before leaving again. The table is polished beneath his fingertips despite it being wood. James would probably have sensory issues with the texture of it.

Will laughs imagining it. He hasn't laughed for a while, he realises.

His chair is somewhat comfortable, with a green cushion behind his back. The rich pang of coffee wafts up his nose. He doesn't really like black coffee much. James likes it. He only started drinking it because of him.

"Come on, Will! It's nice! Just try it for Christ's sake." James' choked giggles interrupt his voice, his eyes crinkling in the corners out of sheer enjoyment for being in the company of Will. The latter man sniffs the hot liquid, wincing at the dark brown, bitter coffee. He knows it's bitter from the powerful stench erupting from the cardboard cup.

"I'm not sure, lad." He shakes his head, attempting to pass the cup back. James pushes it back.

"You like lattes?" James asks quickly, in a tone which is almost commanding.

Will nods, "Aye."

"You'll like it then. It's a latte but stronger and with no milk at all-"

"So absolutely nothing like a latte." Will interrupts, scoffing. James sighs heavily, feigning shame. Will knows he has to drink it. He can't bear to see the sad puppy eyes that would inevitably stare back at him if he said no. He glances down at the liquid again, taking a tentative sip.

The offensive flavour bites at his tongue and scratches at his throat as he swallows, the sharp aroma almost making him gag. It's completely ribald; his adams apple bobs up and down as he restrains the urge to loudly spit his distaste. He hates it; his eyes connect with James' hazel orbs.

His face is lit up, expectantly gazing on for approval, his mouth ever so gently upturned into a soft smile. His eyes are wide and innocent, staring at his best friend in interest. Dear God, Will can't tell the truth here.

"I like it." He chokes, placing the cup carefully onto the coffee table, his eyes lingering on it for a second longer than he wanted in sheer disgust before falling back onto the other man.

"You do?" James' excited voice breaks the disgusting sensation in Will's aura and replaces it with warmth. James always had an effect of doing that.

"Yeah... it's nice." For lack of a better word, Will thought.

James grins, a wide, toothy grin. Will suddenly decides that he wants to start drinking coffee more.