yo yo i am probably not going to turn this into a fully-fledged fic but i love these scenes so much i wanted to share….
warning for: homophobia, bad parent rick celebrini (sorry my guy), angst and a bit of hurt/comfort
They don’t talk much after that. The evening goes cold and Mack senses that an invisible, impenetrable wall has gone up between them. He turns in for the night and struggles to fall asleep with the heavy weight on his chest.
The next morning, his dad joins him in the gym. They say good morning to each other, civil, and pass comments back and forth about their workouts. Mack can sense the wall. The imposing displeasure of his dad’s attitude.
Mack, inexplicably, feels the need to apologise. Can’t deal with the frigidity between them.
“I’m sorry,” he says, though it comes out a little insincere. Probably because he’s not certain what he’s apologising for. “It’s just… I’ve had a lot on my mind.”
“Like what? Like this… what you were getting at last night? A crush?”
“It’s not-“ But maybe that’s all it is. No, he doesn’t think so. He thinks it’s more than that. He thinks it could make or break him. “I just wanted to talk to someone about it.”
His dad looks pained. “So you’re serious about this? You’re not… I mean. It’s confusing, a confusing time. And people talk about it more. Maybe the idea has just got in your head.”
Macklin shakes his head. “I don’t think that’s. No. That’s not right. I have feelings for him-“ he clears his throat, which is stinging, tear-poisoned, “for Will.”
“Are you trying to tell me you’re gay?”
“No!” God - it - it’s insulting somehow. That’s how it feels. Like his dad has just levelled an insult at him. And it stings too. The words and the look his dad is giving him - almost scared. “No I’m not saying that. It’s just - I’m just… I needed to talk to someone about it. Because I don’t know what to do.”
His dad doesn’t look at him for a long time. Then he says, “there are certain expectations of you, Macklin.”
“It would be… an issue. In a lot of ways. It might ruin your career.”
“So,” Rick says. Goes quiet and the silence breathes between them. “I think you know what you should do.”
Macklin breathes heavy from his mouth, a long, low sigh. He could cry. He’s not going to, not right now, not in front of his dad. The words come out grated, raw, bleeding: “Bury it.”
“I just…” Macklin is toeing the curb. He can feel the stone through the curve of his trainers, the scuffed mark from where he does this, puts a bit of blunt force on his own skin, a kick, a tap, a thud, casual, dulling. “I don’t know, man. I like it when it’s just us.”
Will has the ball against his hip in the crook of his elbow. Behind him, the sun is low and pleasantly yellow, and the world is going soft and golden. Will’s face then, is in shadow, and his voice when he speaks is rough.
“Yeah, well. I’m not the one who made it weird.”
Macklin feels his cheeks burn. “Fuck you. I didn’t-“
“You did. You made me feel… like shit.” Will doesn’t look away. His jaw is tight. “It’s really fucking hard to be alone with you right now, Mack. That’s why I invited the boys over. Because it’s hard for me.”
He’s got no choice but to breathe through his mouth, because he thinks his nose will make his throat sting and tears will start falling.
Will half-turns, about to walk away. There’s a car coming up the street. Gabe, maybe. The boys. The defensive blockade Will’s erected between them. Will hesitates and speaks through his tense jaw like it hurts: “For the record, I liked it too. When it was just us. More than anything.”
“Can’t we just put a film on?” Mack huffs. He’s being selfish he knows. Acting like Will’s the one being awkward. “Let’s put something on and chill. Maybe order room service? Like before?”
Will works his jaw. Rolls his shoulders then his eyes slide shut, reopen slow, and well, it’s Mack he’s dealing with, he’s not good at staying mad. Not too practiced in saying no.
“Yeah,” he says it like a sigh. Fed up. “Yeah, okay. But I’m picking the movie.”
Whilst they wait for their room service to arrive, they shower and change. Mack lays on his bed waiting for Will, and watches Will come out in just his shorts, hair curling and damp. Mack averts his eyes back to his phone in his lap, aimlessly scrolling.
Later, after they’ve eaten and the film is rolling on and on, Mack suggests they push their beds together so they’re more central to the TV. It’s an innocent request. Honest. But not long after, his eyes start to get heavy. Will wakes him up laughing at him when his chin suddenly drops to his chest.
“Huh? Shh, I’m awake,” Mack mutters nonsensically.
“Sure you are, bud,” Will says fondly. “C’mere.”
Will throws an arm over Mack’s shoulders then clasps his hand to the nape of his neck and guides him down until Mack is half-lying down, head on Will’s chest where he’s propped up on pillows to watch the TV. Will doesn’t remove his hand - even once Mack is comfortable and trying to breathe evenly through his mouth - he threads his fingers through Mack’s hair at the back of his head and holds him there, scratching his scalp gently.
It is so nice Mack could fall asleep but he doesn’t - he is awake. His pulse is thrumming. Heart hammering. Chest tightening and stomach plummeting.
Mack’s eyes sting. Will let’s go of his hair to thumb a circle against Mack’s temple, fingers sliding into the mess of his fringe.
Mack is breathing through his mouth. Trying to collect himself. To control.
But Will is touching him so gently. Soothing a hurt he doesn’t even understand, a hurt that has touched him, hurt him in turn. Mack’s selfish hurt, and Will is trying to massage it out of his scalp.
When he breathes in, his chest hitches, and that’s it. The stinging in his eyes he tries to blink away but that just lets loose a tear or two.
Will mustn’t be watching the TV, considering the minute the tears fall, he’s swiping them away with a knuckle.
“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Will says, curling a little over Mack’s body, which is half prone on top of him, curled into his chest. “What’s up, sweetheart?”
