WILLIAM (bxb)

3

Jamie's starting to regret the whole coffee date thing. The cafe is crowded and noisy, and it's grating on his nerves. Every time the door opens he flinches like he's been shot, and he can't stop his leg from bouncing under the table. There's a group of pre-teens in the corner that swear too much and squeal too much and he can feel their eyes on his skin, digging and digging and making him burn. There's an old couple drinking coffees and sharing a muffin, looking annoyed at the noise, there are three people doing some last minute cramming, and William is nowhere to be seen.

Jamie's fingers tighten on his coffee cup as he glances at his phone, which is empty and then back to the door, where there's still no eyeliner-wearing boy. It's only been five minutes, Jamie tells himself, but he can't help thinking that he's been stood up.

He can't help but remember the boy he was with before, Nicky, and how many times he'd done this. How many times he'd left Jamie waiting somewhere for him, only to text him a half hour later and say he couldn't make it. How much it hurt to be someone's plaything, how fucking quickly the words, baby and I'm so sorry lose their meaning.

Jamie is just about to stand up and leave, his cheeks and his eyes burning with shame – why did you even hope, idiot? – when a very flustered William storms into the cafe. He spots Jamie in an instant, and walks briskly over.

Jamie manages to let out a, "Are you okay?" before his voice clogs up in his throat, because William is radiating anger. It's almost enough to make Jamie recoil.

"I'm sorry I'm late, really, really sorry, but can we please leave? You have a car right? Can we please leave? I'll explain outside, but can we please – I don't – I'm not, I'm really sorry, okay, but please, I just need to get out of here. Please." William keeps sliding his gaze to the door, and he's pulling on the bottom of his coat and his scarf, looking antsy. The anger is slipping from him, turning into something more like panic. "Please?" he says again, and Jamie nods, standing up.

"Yeah," Jamie forces himself to say, and then again, like the dumbass he is. William rocks forwards on the balls of his feet as Jamie pulls his jacket on, and then he asks, very small,

"Will you hold my hand on the way out, too? Please? I'm so sorry. I just – I can explain, I promise, I just – please?" and when Jamie looks down into the shorter boy's face, he can see how scared he is, how much Jamie doing this for him will mean.

Jamie nods, numbly, and William thanks him wholeheartedly.

He picks up his coffee, and loops one finger through his keychain, grabbing William's hand from his side with his open hand. He squeezes gently, and William does it back, following as Jamie cuts neatly through the crowd of people still making noise.

Jamie tries not to notice the deep breath William takes as they step out into the cold air, but it's impossible not to. It's also impossible not to notice the small group of teenagers smoking by the side of the building. William turns his head to the side, and his grip becomes tighter in Jamie's.

"Hey, look," crows one of the boys, and Jamie raises his eyebrows at him. "It's our favourite fairy and his boytoy."

"Just keep walking," William whispers, tugging Jamie forwards, but Jamie's turning his head to stare at the boy who was talking.

These are the people who Leeroy has to deal with, he thinks, and his blood goes cold. William too.

The boy who'd opened his mouth smirks at Jamie, and his eyes are a familiar blue, his nose a familiar swell. He flicks a cigarette to the ground and makes a shooing motion with his hand. "Have fun being disgusting together," he calls out, and Jamie finally turns. He leads William to his car across the street, and slumps into the driver seat.

"Fuck," William says, and his voice is so small, there's no way that Jamie would be able to mad at him for being late on their coffee date. "I'm so sorry," he says, and then, "thank you," and then he twiddles his thumbs in his lap as Jamie turns on the engine and slides easily out onto the road.

What was that all about? Jamie wants to ask, but doesn't. There's something that's made William seem so much less than he usually is – as if all the energy has been sucked from him, leaving him an empty shell.

He runs a shaky hand through his curls, and Jamie wants to reach over and pat his shoulder but he doesn't. He just drives.

"I don't know why they get to me so much, still," William says after a couple of minutes and a couple of stop signs. "I mean, you'd think I'd be used to it by now, right? It's not like i'm hiding anything. I just wish they wouldn't – god, fuck, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to stand you up on a date."

Date, Jamie thinks, and he can't help the small tremor that goes through his body. He grips the steering wheel harder, and turns a left a little too sharp. "It's alright," he says.

"They just – got a little – handsy, is all. I couldn't get away right away. Fucking assholes."

Jamie's stomach starts a slow burn and he etches the features of the boy who'd spoken out into his memory. "Did they - um – hurt you?" he asks, cautiously, and William shakes his head.

"No, they just shoved me a little. One grabbed my ass."

"Fuck," Jamie mutters, thinking of his little brother again.

"It's okay. I've had worse, I guess."

Worse. "That's not okay," Jamie counters, and William sighs.

"I guess I'm kind of asking for it, though? Right? I mean, look at me, I'm wearing makeup, and this-this scarf isn't exactly a normal thing for a guy to wear, is it? I wouldn't know. I just really – ah, fuck – " his voice has become shaky, and he furiously wipes at his eyes. "- god, sorry. I'm not usually this emotional about it."

"It's okay," Jamie says softly, not knowing what he should do. What he should say. What he should think. He really likes William, he thinks William is very brave, very bold. He admires him, and his ability to be himself. He can see how it would be hard. He hates those boys for touching William, for making him feel like he deserves the hate.

"We can head somewhere else, if you'd like," William says, changing the subject, and Jamie laughs, because they're already in his neighbourhood.

"My house alright for you?" he asks, and the boy in the passenger seat smiles.

"No homophobes there, right?" Jamie looks over and meets his blue eyes. Fuck, he thinks, because this is why the boy at the corner looked so familiar. They're the same, the two of them have the same nose, the same eyes, the same defiant set of the chin.

Fuck, Jamie thinks again, as he realizes that William said that he's not usually as shaken by the homophobic slurs as he was today.

"Absolutely none," he confirms as he pulls into his driveway, his mind racing a mile a fucking minute. He wants to know about William, he wants to dive deep down into what the other boy is thinking, why his own blood is being so terrible to him. He wants to hold William's hand again.