Will O Wisp | YA Novella

Chapter 5: Just Kiss Me Instead

The Parade of Nations happens in a rush of noise and blur. As Will walks beside Ocean, smiling and waving at all the right moments, he can't help but think that they are hamsters on a wheel. The only difference is that the onlookers expect them to be the ones to spin.

"U-S-A! U-S-A! Gold! Gold! Gold!" It's soon all incoherent to Will, and as they follow the flag-bearer, the chants meld with the various languages being shouted across Polygon Arena.

Ocean pulls him in what an onlooker would imagine to be a whisper. "It's almost over," Ocean yells above the storm.

He's right; their circle around the elevated stage has almost come to an end. The tunnel to backstage is quickly approaching, and some of the American athletes have already waved their goodbyes before exiting.

Take it all in, Will, he can hear his mother saying—even though heaven is lightyears away. Out of all the things that he believes is proved wrong by science, he allows himself to at least believe a place where his mother can watch over him. Perhaps Ocean is right whenever he screams folly at his selfishness.

So he listens.

Drones fly like hummingbirds under the arena's sealed roof, flashing in technicolor patterns that shift from one form to the next. From a maple leaf the size of a bulldozer to a set of skis, to Vancouver's own Olympic mascot—a paste-blue ogre dressed in a gaudy winter coat.

He even steals a glance at Ocean, how the boy is beaming at the crowd like the people-person Will's always known him to be.

Only half a minute remains left of their role in the parade, maybe forty-five seconds if they stall for as long as possible. To do so, Will walks blindly, reaching out to grab the hem of Ocean's jacket.

Will trips on a bouquet of pink peonies thrown by the audience. His yell—uncharacteristic of his composed self—is lost in the cacophony.

"Shi—"

Ocean catches him by the inside of his elbow, latching onto him and pulling so that he doesn't go whirling off the side of the stage. A five feet drop that could do more than just minor injury. It could ruin his entire career if he were to land on a knee or ankle.

Instead of turning to thank his partner—who's lifted him up even off the ice—he remains silent while noticing the nearby reporter. Carrying her bug-eyed lense like her most prized jewel, she snaps a photo of them intertwined. As Ocean holds him close—with Will's lips and cheek pressed into the other boy's shoulder, he's never imagined that a blinding flash could be so intrusive.

It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

While still regaining balance, Will can't help but notice the same musky wood of Ocean's cologne, mixed with a blueberry shampoo—which comes in a hourglass bottle that he can't help but scoff at whenever showering.

They share the shower, the room, the food on each others' plate. One thing that Will will not stand for is a nasty rumor spreading between them.

"Let's go, Ocean," says Will, pushing Ocean back with both elbows. He clenches his fist to keep composure, taking a set of deep breaths proven to reduce onsets of stress. Four seconds in, four seconds holding, four seconds out—repeat.

Down the hall leading backstage, Ocean turns on Will as if daggers were thrown between them. "What was that all about? I prevented you from falling and you push me like I grabbed your ass?"

Will's ears blush in fury. "Do you not get it? You saw that reporter standing there. She was waiting for some shi—" He stops himself, remembering the words of their publicist who commands them never to swear in public. It will cause you to lose sponsorships. It will make you lose your image. It will steal that Olympic jacket right off your shoulders if you're obscene in front of anyone with a camera. Will grits his teeth, imagining that Ocean's baby sister is there with him. "She was waiting for something like that to happen."

"Something like what?" Ocean says, raising his voice. Some of the athletes have stopped to gather around. Out of the corner of Will's eyes, Terra is cutting her way through. No longer holding the flag, but with a expression that screams her readiness to save the image of the US figure skating team.

Will drops his jaw in mock aghastness. "And they call you the one most in tune with your emotions." Ocean flinches back if Will really is holding a dagger, like rogues in the video games Will used to with Ocean back in his home in Kalihi. "They were waiting for a screw up. Something to post in their newspaper articles or an online special about how two boys are in a forbidden love affair."

Ocean shakes his head, clenching his fists to mimic Will's. "You really are insane. Too many of those psychological theories have gone to your head. Let me just give you this diagnosis. That your downright insane."

"Guys, stop—please. This is going too far." Terra James is the voice of reason that both boys ignore.

There's nothing Will finds more valuable in himself than a stable mind, and Ocean's words cut deep. "You should have just kissed me instead. It would have done less damage."

Maybe Will is imagining things, but he catches Terra lending a sympathetic glance toward his partner.

"I was meaning to enjoy the parade," says Ocean. "Thank you for ruining another beautiful thing."

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