What makes Willmack so intriguing is that, by all means, Mack was raised to be the hockey-focused scumbag of an NHL player, the kind of guy whoās supposed to end up with a blonde, blue-eyed love interest with no name beyond the role she fills. But heās bound to fail, because he cares far too much about some things and far too little about others; because he feels too intensely when he should stay nonchalant, and itās written all over his face.
He still falls for the blonde, blue-eyed love interest with old Hollywood curls and pink lips, who looks like he just stepped off a movie set. But instead of being satisfied with the blurry outline of a partner, Mack canāt help noticing every single detail that makes Will special and so uniquely Will that he could never be swapped out for someone else. Will, who does let Mack call him over with nothing more than a beckoning finger, sometimes, but who doesnāt blindly follow Mackās lead either. Will who matches Mack step for step.
And Will was raised to put money and fame first, to chase status and everything it symbolizes, the kind of heir whoās supposed to marry someone with royal blood. But he canāt succeed either, because heās desperate to work for it, to earn it. So of course he falls for the boy who is royalty in his own way, measured by a standard that matters far more to Will than any old bloodline ever could, because itās one theyāve both dedicated their lives to, one theyāve bled, sweated, and cried for.
A boy who does let Will use his name and his money and his body to be paraded around in broad daylight, for everyone to see, whenever Will feels like it. A boy who lets Will keep the charade alive and is eager to pay for Willās coffee with a bright smile, who plays along whenever Will wants to pretend the thing that they have is about anything but love, and who demands only one thing in return: that Will fight with everything he has so they can climb to the top and earn the crown, together.
