Will's always wished he could keep it open a few centimeters to keep it from getting too warm. His roommates generally disagreed; his current, temporary one—thank you, housing, for deciding his dormitory was going to be the one for students who couldn't go home for one reason or another—is pretty much of the same mind as his other roommates.
Speaking of, even; he glances over his shoulder, lips twitching when the bundle of blankets on the bed opposite of his squirms and groans. Leonardo Watch, in all his mousy brown-haired, gently freckled, half-dressed glory pokes his head out, squinting at him and his hands holding up the window.
"Do you... have to stand with it open?" Leonardo croaks, reaching up to rub his eyes; Will catches sight of his collarbones and the hollow of his neck when he sits up on his elbows, cheek pressed up with the heel of his hand. It makes his throat tighten a little, his skin prickling, and Will turns back to the window, shutting it with a soft, apologetic laugh.
"Sorry. It gets a little too warm for me." Will stares out at the glittering snow, wishing he could've kept it open (it's still too hot, but that isn't the heater's fault this time). "Did you sleep well?"
"Not really." He hears the bed creak behind him, feels his breath catch when Leonardo shuffles up behind him and looks over his shoulder. Definitely too warm. "That bed's not really that comfortable—are all of them like that?"
Will hums instead of speaking, words stuck to his throat the way frost sticks to the glass, and Leonardo seems to take it as an affirmative because he groans again; he shuffles backwards, knocks into the desk grabbing his phone, and shuts the door quietly behind him when he leaves. It's only then that Will takes in a deep breath, pulls the window open again, and closes his eyes.
God, he's pathetic. Lusting after a taken man. Mary'd laugh at him if she knew, he's sure of it, or worse: give him a peppy go-get-him talk while looking at him like he's an old shelter dog on the way out. Will leans out the window, grimacing when a gust of cold wind blows right through him.
Leonardo returns with eyes rimmed red and a shaky smile. Will's moved to his bed now, thumbing through one of the books he's supposed to be reading over break for a class next semester; Leonardo raises a hand in greeting, gripping his phone far too tightly, and Will stares for a moment before doggy-earring his page and setting the book aside. He tenses up when Leonardo practically crashes down next to him, resting against his side; it's hard to relax, when the source of every bit of anxiety he's been experiencing for the past two weeks is wrapping its arms around his waist and pulling him closer. He swears his heart stops when Leonardo buries his face into the crook of his neck, shoulders shaking, and Will slowly shifts until he's in a better position to hug him back hesitantly.
It takes him a couple of minutes to calm down; he draws away, sitting at the edge of his bed and playing with the phone in his hands with a few lingering sniffles. Will pulls his legs to his chest, missing the warmth and closeness, and finally asks, "What's wrong?"
"My girlfriend broke up with me," Leonardo replies, voice strained. He squeezes the phone again, then tosses it gently aside; he falls back, curly hair just barely scraping the wall, and swallows hard. Will watches the way his Adam's apple bobs with the motion. "She said it wasn't working out and that it hadn't been for a few weeks now and she'd been planning on telling me before, but she couldn't find the right time because she'd feel bad if she cut it off with me while I was treating her to something? So she just decided that she'd do it when we were on break since she'd wouldn't feel as guilty or..."
Leonardo trails off with a laugh Will knows is self-deprecating—there's no way he, the king of it, wouldn't know what that sounds like—and shakes his head.
"Sorry."
"No, I should be the one saying that." Leonardo glances at him, confused, and Will ignores the butterflies in his stomach long enough to scoot closer. "As in... my condolences? Break ups are hard, and I'd be a hypocrite if I got mad over you venting and crying about it. Even on me," he adds before Leonardo can say anything.
Leonardo slowly closes his mouth, lips turning up at the ends, and shakes his head again—he doesn't refute him despite that, and Will offers him a small smile.
"Thanks," Leonardo whispers after a moment. "I didn't think a stranger—or, well, not really a stranger, I know we've been in a couple of classes together? And obviously we've been rooming for a few weeks now—but anyway, I didn't think... you know. I thought this would be weirder? But it's not."
He pauses; when he laughs, it's high-pitched and in small bursts. Will finds his heart going off like a row of firecrackers. He joins in, leaning against him, and feels it die off in his throat when Leonardo licks his lips and tilts his head onto Will's.
"Got any tips for getting over a girl?" He asks, serious curiosity hidden under his joking, and Will hums thoughtfully.
"Get a rebound? The less like her the better." When Leonardo blinks at him, he shrugs. "It works in the movies, doesn't it?"
"People usually fall in love with their rebounds in the movies," Leonardo retorts, grinning, and Will shrugs.
"Then hook up with someone you know you'd never be interested in dating."
"So when he asked if you'd be interested in being his rebound," Mary says slowly, bending her straw as she stares at him, "you said yes."
Will shrinks under her gaze, and she slaps the straw on the table between them.
"Will! Why!"
"He was cute and I liked him! And—" He groans, slumping further in the booth— "And I don't know, Mary, I just sort of... It just kind of happened so fast? I didn't know what else to say, and—"
"And you're a desperate gay idiot," she interrupts, leaning forward. "I know.
"So," Mary continues after a moment, going back to bending her straw, "what's next? You said you had a whole story to tell."
Taking him up on it was probably a mistake, but it isn't like he can go back on his word now, much less stop the hammering of his heart whenever he thinks about Leonardo falling in love with him—or stop the way it aches when he remembers he'd suggested for him to pick someone he wouldn't fall for, and Leonardo had asked him in all seriousness if he'd be it, then.
It wouldn't be easy, given the circumstances of their agreement—their arrangement— but the idea takes root and sparks every time Leonardo smiles at him, and every time their hands brush during the day, until Will's crawling into his bed and into his lap, pushing past the book he'd been reading.
Leonardo stares at him, perturbed, and Will licks his lips nervously. Shifts closer. Kisses him on the lips, eyes squeezed shut, not resting until he starts getting kissed back moments later. He breathes out slow through his nose, feels Leonardo grin beneath him, and slides his arms around his neck to deepen it. There's nothing he wants more in the world than this, he realizes as Leonardo tightens his grip.
There's no way he can lose this.
"Something wrong?" Leonardo asks; Will wonders why, when he realizes he's been pressing his face into the crook of his neck instead of pressing kisses against it. He shakes his head slowly, pushing himself up, and smiles. Leonardo tilts his head, lips pursing, and he reaches up to drag Will back down.
He repeats the question when they're through messing around, when layers are discarded on the floor and they're left hot and sticky in their underwear. Will shakes his head again, turning his attention to the window; he tries not to feel too bothered when Leonardo replies, "If you say so," after a pregnant pause.
They're acquaintances at best, he reminds himself. Leonardo's a friendly young man, and Will's his rebound, but that doesn't automatically make them close or prime for pushing for answers. He sighs, curling beneath the blankets, and glances over his shoulder when Leonardo's hand dances over his side and pulls him close. There's a worried crease in his company's forehead, one that isn't smoothed away with a kiss to the corner of his mouth, and Will presses his face to the pillow in an attempt to calm the thunder in his heart.
It works, somewhat. His heart pitter-patters along with a steady, certain beat as restless hands making short work of discarding blanket and tugging on clothes in the morning. Leonardo grumbles when he leaves, reaching out for him in tired, half-assed grabs. "There's no class so you don't have to get up, you know," he says louder, when Will hums inquisitively at him.
"You didn't care about my sleeping habits before," Will reminds him, tugging the blanket over his shoulders, and only resists being pulled back into bed a little. He sighs in mock-frustration, closing his eyes—
"I wasn't sleeping with you before."
—snapping them back open a moment later. He wishes he had resisted a little harder, but there's arms around his chest like a cage around his heart now, and the next breath he exhales is designed to calm down the panic in his heart the reminder's set aflame. Will shakes his head a little, gently prying Leonardo's arms away, and sits up with a small smile back down at him.
"I've got a book report to do," he replies, surprised at how steady his own voice is. Leonardo squints at him, then cocoons himself back up in his blankets with a muffled good luck. Will reaches out to play with brown curls, stops a few inches from it, then runs his hand through his own hair as he stands.
The library is thankfully quiet and thankfully open at the early hour he's chosen. Will offers an apologetic smile to the worker at the desk—no one should have to work this early or during break—and heads to the bottom floor, slumping against his favorite table when he finds it. It's as impossible to concentrate on his very real book report as it is to think about how he's going to get Leonardo to fall for someone like him, someone he chose to hook up with because he knew he wouldn't fall into the romantic-comedy trap with. Will stares at his notes, half of them unfinished plans for his report and the other half unfinished plans for his love life, and neatly tears the paper out of his notebook with a sigh.
There's really no way he's going to be able to do this, he realizes. Not in less than two weeks. Hell, not in less than... than a lifetime, probably.
Will lays his head on his arms and closes his eyes, listening to the soft tick of a far-off clock count down the seconds to the end of the world.
He wakes up to a slightly-too-warm drink being pressed to his cheek. He hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep, honestly; it's usually a little too musty down here to do so, which is why he liked it so much (that, and the fact no one used the last floor for anything), and it startles him just as much as Leonardo's grinning face does above him. Before he has the chance to react with anything other than a soft grunt, Leonardo's leaning down to kiss him much too sweetly (or maybe that's wishful thinking, tied into the dreams he's been having) as he sets his bag on the table beside him.
"It's been a couple of hours, so I thought I'd see how things were coming along. And see if you wanted to get breakfast before the cafeteria closes." Leonardo glances at the time on his phone (Will sits up and rubs the sleep out of his eyes as soon as he's not the focus) and hums thoughtfully. "...We might not be able to make it though, so do you wanna go grab something at McDonald's or something instead?"
"You went to Starbucks to get me coffee but you didn't get anything for yourself," Will says, sniffing the coffee—vanilla latté, his favorite—and catches Leonardo's sheepish smile in his peripheral.
"You were kinda the only thing on my mind," Leonardo replies, rubbing the back of his neck. Will's heart skips a beat and he leans down to both pull his backpack up and to hide the grin that's involuntarily found its place on his face. He finds Leonardo glancing curiously at his notes when he sits back up, and he follows his gaze—panic and embarrassment immediately flood him at the sight of scratched through ideas and little swoops around leonardo watch on the torn-out papers of his notebook, and he sets his bag on them with a little more force than he supposes is necessary. Leonardo jumps, pink staining his cheeks, and Will wonders if he saw.
"Not having much luck with your report, huh?" is all Leonardo asks, pulling his own bag back over his shoulder, and Will shakes his head while he pushes books and papers into his backpack and zips it up.
"It's turning out to be a lot harder than I thought it'd be." His nose crinkles involuntarily at the thought, and he sighs when he stands, feeling like his poorly-made plans are the heaviest thing in his bag. "Let's get something to eat, yeah. Maybe it'll help."
Leonardo nods, and there's centimeters of distance between their hands as they make their to cheap and greasy fast food, skipping across almost empty streets with little smiles and teases about how jaywalking is technically breaking the law and how they're definitely old enough to get in trouble for it. Will shakes his head—"You don't look old enough to get in trouble for anything aside from being out without an adult."—and laughs when Leonardo shoves him with his shoulder.
Their hands knock together, knuckle against knuckle, and Will loses his balance; he stumbles against someone's brick wall of a fence, wincing, and forgets how to breathe when he opens his eyes and finds Leonardo dangerously close.
He licks his lips, swallowing hard, and tilts his head to the side a little when Leonardo kisses him against the wall, forearm resting just above his shoulder. His breath hitches when he feels cold wind against his stomach, Leonardo's even colder fingers fanning beneath his layers, and Will wraps his arms around his neck, pulling him closer.
Leonardo's hands are pushing his pants down a little, fingers curling into the groove of his navel, when something cracks above and a shitload of snow comes sliding down beside them in a loud rush. They give a start at it, breathing erratic, and Will catches Leonardo's eye for just second before he's glancing away, stepping to the side and smiling.
"Food," he says hoarsely, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets, and Leonardo nods, mimicking him; they're back to centimeters between them as they walk, and Will keeps his eyes steady on the ground in front of him even when he feels Leonardo's gaze flick to him.
"I don't want to hear how my pure and gentle older brother is into getting fucked in public," Mary groans softly, setting her head down. Will feels his cheeks warm up and he opens his mouth to retort, snapping it shut when Mary smacks her hand on the table. "You do! Don't say you don't! You wouldn't have added in that little detail if you didn't like it so much!"
"It's just what happened, and you told me to be thorough!" Will shrinks in his seat as he talks, squeezing his eyes shut. "So—I am?"
"That doesn't mean you have to give me every little detail."
She'd complain if he didn't—say he's skipping out on the important things if he didn't—and Will sighs.
The rest of the day passes without incident, the sun setting behind the promise of snow-laden clouds. Will hums when he hears Leonardo call his name from the bed and turns his head just enough to watch him from the corner of his eye.
"What is it?"
"I don't really know how to ask this without it being kinda weird," Leonardo starts, his arm over his eyes, "so I guess I'll just do it? Um—"
Will realizes, in that moment, he knows exactly what his question's about and how much he doesn't want to hear it—he shoves his chair back and yelps as he goes down with it, foot caught on its leg. Leonardo's sitting up when he opens his eyes again, leaning over the bed with worry staining his features, and Will laughs before he waves him off.
"I'm fine, I just... remembered something. Remembered that I forgot something. I'll be back in a little bit, Leonardo, promise—sorry, it's really important, it really can't wait—"
He doesn't wait for Leonardo's reply to his frenzied excuses, picking himself up as he rambles and heading out of their room quickly. He shuts the door firmly and leans back against it, listening to the dull sound of Leonardo moving around inside before it settles again; when it does, he sighs softly, sinking to the ground and pressing his face into his knees.
He'd seen the papers with his name, and he'd been about to ask after them. Or worse, he wasn't going to ask about them but was going to ask why, or give a guess for the reason, or... a hundred other things that has him gritting his teeth and wanting to go throw himself into the local pool. Freezing to death out there would be better, somehow, than freezing in here, words stuck in his throat and fear clawing his ankles.
Will eventually finds it in himself to stand and actually leave, socks dragging on the linoleum floor. There's a couple of guys he recalls having brought beer in—his floor is one of the few not under the dry hall restriction, not that that'd matter over break or that it mattered even during the school year for most students—and he knocks on doors until he finds them.
It's easier to deal with this when his head's fuzzy, and it's a few hours past midnight when he figures out how to open his door again and steps inside. It's dark aside from the desk lamp shining on Leonardo; he looks up when Will enters, relief plain, and shuts his book. Will collapses on the bed beside him, curling up after a moment; panic and fear still nervously make a home in his hollowed-out chest, but the sensations are dulled by alcohol, and he hums when Leonardo calls his name again.
"I'm glad you're safe," is all he says though, carding his fingers through Will's hair, and he hums in reply again, scooting close enough to nuzzle Leonardo's thigh. By the time Leonardo has enough courage to ask anything, he's already on the precipice of sleep, and in his mind the words muddy together unrecognizably.
Morning comes with light on his face and the soft pound of a headache. He's thankful he doesn't get normal hangovers, but it's still a little too much, and he groans softly. Leonardo sighs beside him, fingers starting through his hair again, and Will slowly opens his eyes and lets them adjust to the room.
"You don't have any right to complain," Leonardo grumbles to fill the silence. "You're not the one who had to sleep sitting up. Against the wall. Because someone looked too peaceful to disturb."
"I'm not that light of a sleeper after a couple drinks," Will replies, turning around gradually until he's facing him; he nuzzles his thigh again, lips quirking when he hears a sigh, and closes his eyes again. "Promise. You could've moved me."
"Fine." Leonardo shoves him off, and Will swears when he tumbles off the bed. He winces, looking up, and gets a cheeky smile for his pain. "...You looked way too cute to move too."
"Did I suddenly stop being too cute to move in the last five seconds?" He asks, sitting up with a grimace, and Leonardo chuckles, scooting to the edge of the bed. Will takes his hand when it's offered, pulling himself up into his lap, and ignores the twinge of guilt that comes with resting his chin on his shoulder and the pair of hands settling on the small of his back.
He can't ignore the soft exhale against his ear, or the pound of his own heart in his head, or the way Leonardo's arms tighten around him, or how the world seems to still when he asks, "Is this gonna work?"
It takes Will longer than it should to start breathing again, for the world to start turning again—but he does, and it does, and he nods sharply into the crook of Leonardo's neck, squeezing his eyes shut.
"Of course it is. I'm not... They were just ideas for things we could do," he whispers, the lie digging beneath his rib cage painfully. "It wasn't anything like you're thinking, Leonardo."
The quiet is tangible, feeling like a breath held too long before Leonardo answers with a soft, "Okay."
Mary opts not to say anything, sucking her milkshake noisily instead with her eyebrows raised. Will's not sure if that's better or worse.
He's keenly aware of time running out.
Despite his assurance that things would work out, that he didn't... that things were just ideas for things they could do, Leonardo's still careful around him. They still mess around, but they don't lay together afterwards anymore. They still hang out, but the centimeters of distance stretch into inches. They still talk, but it's shallow, like they're testing waters or peeking out from behind a curtain to stare at an audience waiting for the leading actors to introduce the play.
Will wants to scream, but he busies himself with work instead. When that's done, he goes out, has a few drinks, and always finds himself at a snow-covered park not far from the university. Sometimes he sits on a bench, watching snowflakes dance in front of him, and sometimes he digs his bare hands into the snow and builds. Snowmen, forts, piles of snowballs—anything to keep him busy and away from his dorm room.
He knows they're both just avoiding things to keep their tenuous arrangement afloat. He's as aware of that as he is of time, as he is of the stinging coldness in his red fingers. He's aware of the way his breath catches in his throat when he follows the light of a flashlight up across the ground one night and sees Leonardo standing there, fingers loose around it. He can't read his expression—there's no moonlight to see by, and even with his eyes adjusted to the darkness there's too much shadow to help—but he swallows and turns back to the rough igloo shape he'd been making.
"I want to finish this first," he replies, words dragging themselves out when Leonardo says they should go back. "It won't take long, promise."
Leonardo shifts in the snow (he can tell by the crunching of it beneath his feet, how it doesn't get any closer but it doesn't go farther, either) and sighs, shining his flashlight on the half-finished shelter.
"Let me help."
Will glances back over his shoulder, cold biting his palms, and nods. They work in mostly quiet, little commands peppered here and there, but work goes faster with four hands instead of two. He crawls inside when it's done, taking Leonardo's flashlight with him, and inspects it with a sobriety he thought he wouldn't have after how many shots he'd downed earlier.
He hears Leonardo fall back against the snow wall; it's sturdy enough that it holds, and Will scoots over, pressing his back to it, too. He closes his eyes and sighs, rolling the flashlight in his hands, and thinks about the three days he has before break ends.
Impossible, he said, and he'd been right. Leonardo's actions had shown that beyond any doubt. He squeezes the light and turns it off, utter darkness taking over his vision.
"I don't see why it wouldn't work out if I had feelings for you," he finds himself saying, voice raised. Leonardo's quiet outside, but he can hear him clumping snow together; the sound of gloves is unmistakable in the silent, still air. "You're the one who just couldn't fall in love with me. We never said anything about the other way around."
"It wouldn't be fair to you." Leonardo's louder too, making up for the thick snow between them, and Will bites his knuckles to keep from laughing. Fair, what the hell was even fair about any of this? Leonardo's ex-girlfriend, his feelings, Leonardo's suspicion, their continued activities despite that, how he really doesn't want to give up—
he becomes aware of someone's raised voice saying all of this, hoarse, and realizes its his own. He swallows hard and presses his hand to his mouth again, eyes prickling, and realizes that it's over. It's definitely, definitely over.
He hears Leonardo get up (it's so definitely over), but he doesn't expect him to crawl into the igloo, too. He doesn't expect him to sit in front of him, or to tug his hand away from his mouth, or to squeeze it between his own. They're so much warmer than his freezing fingers, and Will looks away from him, chest aching.
"I couldn't say no to you," he mutters, "and I didn't want to, either. It'd be my one chance to have anything, even if it was only for a couple of weeks. I was stupid and selfish and I'm sorry, Leonardo. I thought it'd be fine, but then I realized I couldn't give it up, and..."
And the plans. The papers with his name. The silences, the avoidance, the excuses. He keeps his gaze trained on the ground, the dark brown specks of dead leaves easier to think about than how Leonardo must be looking at him.
"I'm really sorry," he whispers when he doesn't get an immediate answer, and Leonardo squeezes his hand.
"Me too."
Mary stares at him, waiting for the punchline, and Will picks up a fry with a shrug.
"That's it."
"That's it," she repeats, slowly. "That's really the end? You had three more days, and you did... what?"
"Slept in my own bed, helped Leonardo pack his stuff and move it back to his dormitory, and broke off our hook up." He counts them off on his fingers, then curls them back into his palm. "That's all."
She sighs, pushing the rest of her milkshake across the table—it's about halfway gone and definitely not his favorite flavor, but he takes it anyway. His confusion at the offer must be pretty easy to read because Mary waves her hand dismissively. "You need it more than I do, Will. What're you going to do now?"
"Is there something I should be doing?" Aside from sitting in his room low-key moping, or working on things for the new semester, he guesses. "I mean, I only had the rest of break to do something, even though I knew it'd be a lost cause. And now it's over, and—
"And you're just going to give up."
Her tone implies he's the world's biggest idiot for considering it, and Will props his chin in his hand, eyebrows pressed together.
"Well... Yes? Like I said, it's a lost cause."
"He's not against guys and he had to be reasonably attracted to you to have sex with you," Mary replies, raising her fingers as she counts them off. "He obviously liked you or he wouldn't have cared about your feelings, things were obviously just as awkward on his side because he didn't know how to talk about what happened with you two, and—" Her eyes flick to just above his shoulder, and she smiles. "And he's waiting for you right outside? I'm pretty sure he's waiting for you, he keeps looking at you, Will."
Will blinks at her slowly, words sinking in slowly, until he keeps looking at you, Will finally hits him and he tenses, shoulders hunching.
"You're kidding," he whispers, and she slowly shakes her head. "How long has he been there?"
"Probably not that long. I would've noticed him if he'd been there the whole time." Mary smiles wider, picking up another fry and popping it into her mouth victoriously. "You should talk to him. Even if you guys don't date, you were both sort of friends, right? At least, that's how it sounded to me."
So he should try. His heart squeezes in that way it had finally stopped doing, and he stands. He doesn't have to look back to know Leonardo's startling away from the glass (Mary's smug look tells him all he needs to know), and he doesn't look anywhere but straight ahead as he steps outside the diner. Leonardo is there, gaze flicking to him and then flicking away again, and Will squeezes the milkshake cup in his hand.
Well. Fuck.
He isn't sure how to start, and it's obvious Leonardo isn't, either. He stirs his (Mary's) mostly melted chocolate-banana milkshake, chewing the inside of his cheek every time he thinks about speaking. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Mary signing him something through the window—it takes him a couple of moments to realize she's charading talk and say hi and you fucking idiot. The last one is implied more than anything else, and he starts the same time Leonardo does.
"So—"
"Will—"
And both of them stop at the same time. Mary smacks her face with her palm and stares, and Will tries his best to ignore her.
"Sorry," he manages, stirring the milkshake again. "You can go first."
Leonardo looks like he's about to argue the same before he shakes his head, then nods, then leans against the glass beside him. "Will," he starts again, stops, and... sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I don't remember what I was going to say. Sorry. You can go ahead."
Will feels his lips twitch in amusement, and he hides it with popping the plastic lid off of his milkshake and sipping it from the cup.
"I was just going to ask how you've been. Not that it's been that long, I guess," only about a week or two, he'd wager, "but... well, I mean. You know."
"I'm pretty sure I should be the one asking you that," Leonardo replies, then shakes his head. "I've been fine. My classes seem like they'll be fun—I don't have any profs I hate right off the bat, so, well. You know." He pauses, finally looking at Will properly. "What about you?"
It's his turn to look away, eyes lowered to the milkshake in his hands.
"I've been... fine. It's not the first time I've gotten rejected—" he wonders if he's imagining the sharp intake of breath opposite him, or the way Leonardo's reflection flinches in the glass— "so, you know. I'll get over it."
He glances back up and smiles. "Thanks for worrying about me, though."
"It's not that I didn't like you, or don't like you," Leonardo blurts suddenly; both of them seem a little shocked by it, but he recovers a lot quicker than Will does, and he steps closer. "Because I do. I like you, and I like hanging out with you, and I like doing... other stuff with you." His voice is softer, weaker; the red on his face isn't entirely from standing in the cold, and Will swallows hard. "It's just... It was just... It wasn't supposed to be something serious, and when I realized you were serious about things—or about how you felt—I sort... panicked? I mean, I'd just gotten out of a relationship that'd been falling apart for a while without me realizing it, so..."
Will nods slowly as he trails off, then laughs, glancing away.
"I had this crazy idea I could get you to fall for me in two weeks by being your rebound," he says, once his chuckles calm down. "Like in the movies? Because we'd talked about it, and it got stuck in my head, and I... like I said, I didn't want to give up. I didn't want to give you up."
He hesitates, then holds out his hand; Leonardo takes it without thinking, and Will steps closer, curling his fingers in his.
"I really am sorry. I meant it. I like you a lot, Leonardo, but I don't want you to... I want things to be okay between us more. Whatever happens happens, so..." He exhales loudly. "Forgive me?"
"Sure," Leonardo replies, voice soft. "Sure, I'll forgive you, but it'll cost you."
Will frowns, squeezing his hand. "Cost me what, dinner?"
"Dinner'd be nice, but—" There's breath hot on his lips, and Leonardo's closer than he should be, and Will murmurs a soft oh before he closes the gap between them.
He tries really, really hard to ignore Mary pumping her fist in his peripheral.
