this is the place ⇝ george x will

4

It only takes a few months. George is painting in his study when he hears someone come through the front door downstairs. He thinks it could be Will, but he usually greets them loudly the second he gets in the door, and George hadn't heard anything.

So he pads downstairs curiously, wondering if it's Fraser. But he's surprised to see Will, solemn and hanging up his coat. Will turns to face him, face breaking into a grin like everything is okay.

"Georgie?" Will says, nickname now too familiar on his tongue. George can't help but blush whenever Will calls him it. "You alright?"

George nods. "It's just me," he says, leaning against the wall. "Alex went out with James."

"You think they're shaggin'?" Will laughs.

"Probably."

George makes him a cup of rooibos how he likes it - milk, sugarless. They take it up to the roof of the building, where they're not supposed to go, but it has the nicest view of the Thames and the sunset. It's cold outside, bitterly, bitingly cold. The wind blows them about like rag-dolls and messes up their hair. The sunset's golden orange, tinting their skin like a tan, and George laughs as they wander towards the edge, feeling suddenly free.

"You been painting?" Will asks him when they lean up against the edge. He touches gently at the paint, smeared against the back of George's hand. His mind jitters at the slight contact.

George nods. "Yeah," he says, scratching at the paint. "I'm behind on something for uni. Had to do it quickly."

Will hums in response, leaning out over the city. "Always said you have the best view," he says, soft and gentle. He turns back to George to gauge his reaction. "Kinda jealous if I'm honest, mate."

"Shut up," George says. "Your flat is huge and gorgeous because you're fabulously rich."

Will shoves him in the arm. "Not rich, you cheeky bugger." He takes a sip of his tea, shaking his head in mock disappointment. He's got an unhappy twinge to his eyes that George hasn't noticed before, and the fact that he isn't as cheerful as usual makes his heart twinge.

"Will?" George tries softly, feeling small and insignificant next to him.

Will turns to him, sunset reflecting on his face. His hair's damp from the shower, and his skin is radiant. "Yeah?"

"Tell me what's wrong."

Will's eyebrow quirks in confusion for a few seconds. "Nothing's wrong, love." George feels pathetic at the way his heart pangs at the nickname like it was invented just to come out of Will's mouth.

"Are you sure?" He asks tentatively, afraid of badgering Will. He lays a cautious hand on Will's arm.

"Yeah," Will says, quieter, which isn't like him at all. "It's just that I went round Mia's today, and we've... we've decided to stop seeing each other."

"Oh," George breathes mildly before he's wrapping his arms around Will and pulling him into a tight hug. "Sorry."

"It's alright," Will says after they break apart. "It ended in relatively good spirits, and there was no bad blood, I'm just bummed that it's over."

"It's okay," George says timidly. "We should go and hang out to cheer you up."

Will finishes his tea and pours the dregs into the drain, a wistful smile drifting over him. "Okay," he says. "Sure."

*

Running through a surprise rainstorm in the middle of Central London wasn't what George had planned for 'cheering Will up'. He'd expected an evening walk along the Thames, but it's pouring like the skies have been holding it in for months, and every heavy drop against the tarmac sounds like a choral addition to their running footsteps.