tagging: @sydneygrover & @nahwilco
location: harry a’s restaurant and bar; st. george island, florida.
time/date: sunday, ~3pm.
summary: wilco? already drinking at 3pm? on a sunday? it’s more likely than you think.
Things had happened between Wilco and Syd back in high school but not the kind of things that had happened between Wilco and Lua. Syd made sure of that.
Not out of some friend code need to hold out on hooking up with the same person. If anything, it seemed like Lua put the brakes on once she noticed how intently Syd listened to all the details of Luco sleeping together. There was normal curiosity and, like, crossing the line to desperately needs to know status.
Syd wanted to be with Wilco like that. Of course they did. It just didn’t seem possible for someone who didn’t even like to be caught without a shirt at the beach. For the longest time, Syd didn’t want to accept what that meant and maybe how close the two of them came to something happening before they lost Olive factored into the disappearing act.
How could they face Wilco at the funeral after freaking out the way they did?
It was so fucking embarrassing to think about now and thank goodness Wilco wasn’t the type to insist on dealing with old business right outta the gate. (Or, ya know, ever.)
Wilco never made anything a big deal when they were growing up while Sydney had this habit of making everything into a huge crisis. This difference might’ve ripped other people apart but it always seemed to have the exact opposite effect. A classic case of opposites attract.
At least until Syd ran away.
And now they were back. Back to wishing they knew what to say and when to say it. Back to feeling like they’d totally blow it if they ever got the chance to do the things they wanted most. Back to feeling like they were drowning in self-loathing and it wasn’t fair to put Wilco in the path of rising water.
“I’m pretty sure time is real,” Syd argued, glancing toward the bar and then back at Wilco’s hands. It was easier than making eye contact, easier than falling apart too soon. “Unless it’s not and that’s why y’all don’t hate me for being lost in it for so long.”
They swallowed hard and, against all attempts at better judgement, motioned for the bartender to bring over another round of whatever Wilco was drinking. He could practically see Lua’s pouty bottom lip if she knew they were off knocking back booze without her at such a ridiculous hour.
“I feel like I’m not cut out for a dog either but dogs are better than people.” Sydney finally lifted his eyes to look over Wilco’s face, heart beating much too fast in their chest. “I feel like I miss her more than I ever have and like I don’t know how to talk to anyone half the time. I feel like I don’t even really deserve to be here.”
Shoulders lifted and lowered slowly but the tension didn’t leave their body. “But I’m not really great at feeling like I belong anywhere so that’s nobody’s fault.”
The whole drive from Georgia to the panhandle of Florida, Wilco had stayed rightfully in the shotgun of Lua’s front seat, fiddling with the stereo and trying his hardest to not make too much eye contact. Not that he was all that concerned with Auggie or Peter being in the car or anything, but Sydney. Syd was there, right there, and Wilco could feel their eyes on him.
And the thing was, Wilco didn’t deserve that. He really didn’t deserve to have Syd’s eyes on him, because Wilco didn’t deserve much of anything.
Yeah. He got it. He really needed to just shut up at this point, didn’t he?
He was good at playing it up for Lua’s camera, acting like he was hot as fuck (because he was?) and totally chill with everything (which he… really wished he was). He kissed her hand and teased her the way he used to in high school, the way that always looked like they were, like, three steps away from making out, considering half the time they totally were.
Until they weren’t. The brakes started to be pulled and the two started to pull back from each other. The last time they’d really been together was the night after Olive’s funeral, when there were too many emotions flowing from too many directions to even be able to see straight.
And Syd, by that point, was already gone.
Syd had already left, already taken off. They hadn’t said anything. They’d just… they’d been gone. And Wilco had never known if he was allowed to be angry about that. He wasn’t, right?
They weren’t dating. Syd wasn’t his. Syd didn’t owe Wilco anything. But it hurt. It hurt when they left.
It was hard to think about anymore, though, when Sydney was sitting in front of him and telling Wilco about all the reasons that they didn’t think they deserved to be there in the first place.
“That’s bullshit,” Wilco observed flatly, taking a final swig from his drink. “Everybody would rather have you here than me.” He waited a second before he was continuing, clarifying and correcting himself. “You deserve be here more than me. You… you were her best friend, Syd. Besides, like, Teddy or whatever, but they’ve been friends since diapers or some shit. But other than that? It was you Of course you deserve to be here.”
He nearly bit a hole in his bottom lip. “But… I…”
Nope. No. He didn’t want to get into that night. He didn’t want to get into that accident. He didn’t want to get into what he’d done. He didn’t want to remind Syd why they should hate him.
“Nobody could ever hate you, though, you know,” he added on a few seconds later, speaking quietly. “I tried, so.” He shouldn’t have said that. “I mean. I tried to hate a lot of things. Myself, mostly, but… sometimes you. It never really worked.”
He allowed a familiar smirk to curve up on his lips, reaching over and pinching at Syd’s cheek just for a second, playfully, before he was pulling back with the fear that he had definitely crossed a line he was pretty sure he wasn’t ready to be crossing just yet. “Must be that face of yours.”
Another drink was sat down in front of him — one sat in front of Syd, as well — and Wilco reached for it. “I miss her, too,” he said quietly, so quiet that maybe he hoped Sydney didn’t even hear him.
And then he took another drink.
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