" — they took ... you ... from me. they took you from me. " will ofc, pulling the trigger on this one
the punch came down on his orbit with such force that it violently scrambled his senses and made him go down on one knee with ease. he had stopped fighting. he was there to get beaten, now. a forgotten, lost in his youth, practice that became coping mechanism. never like tonight he felt the need for a beating. never like tonight he missed his father. he would have done it properly, with no remorse and no respect. not like his men, who hesitated at every hint of exhaustion, fearing the consequences.
he liked the pain. he liked it specifically when it lingered, reminding him of the bruises, of the cuts, surfacing on his body and covering up what hid in the deeper layers of his soul, truly tormenting him. it was dysfunctional, but it was what he knew. and it wasn't working. becky was still burned in his mind, just behind his eyelids. every second. every breath, he saw her. and he didn't see her under him, fucked out, begging and screaming his name, well, not just. he saw too vividly the way she looked when he left, terror seeded behind her sharp eyes, tears streaming down her beautiful face, ripped out memories resurfacing and nothing to grasp on to deal with it. a reflection of him. his heart was broken, ripped in half, blown to shreds... it was still all a confused blur he didn't recognise. unable to find his own memories. unable to find himself in the clear enough feeling of anguish of being ripped away from her once before, when he was still innocent, when they swore their love into heart lockets and school diaries.
will spat a clot of blood and saliva on the floor, limbs jittery under the physical strain. he wanted to go again, but the moment he looked up to his men, he realised none of them would have given him what he wanted. and what he wanted was to obliterate himself enough to forget the redhead cursing his mind, body and memories. though, just like magic, just like he was a puppet moving under guided strings, attracted by a spell he couldn't control, before he could even realise, will was in his car - no driver needed for this one, heading west towards the border he wasn't allowed to cross, breaking the rules a third time that night. he stopped for nothing until he got back to her place and crossed the street he had previously abandoned her on. will knew well he was in irish territory, and just for that, he could have gotten gutted in the street, and no one would have batted an eye. perhaps, that was what he needed. perhaps he was looking for it. perhaps he deserved it if it turned out she was truly about to fuck him over.
he didn't care.
he needed to see her, feeling a calling stronger than faith, stronger than duty, a bond latching at his soul. will found the door to her house open and took a mental note to reprimand her about how dangerous that could have been, but at this very moment, considering he was about to force his way into her house, it did not matter. walking in enemy territory and crossing a threshold he didn't know and wasn't invited to, he looked for her. nothing made sense any more. "becky?" he called, not afraid to advance in her private space. will followed the light left on in the living room and found her curled on herself on the sofa, sobbing. "oh, love," he whispered softly, throwing himself at her feet, kneeling on the floor at her side. when he made sense of what she was saying, will's eyes widened. she remembered it too. it wasn't only him. he wasn't making it up. it did happen. the intimate secret gentleness interrupted and forever broken, forever forbidden, love turned into hate...
will hurried to scoop her off the sofa and into his lap, pulling her close, keeping her against him, chin perched on top of her head, one hand pushed in her hair, hooked at the base of her skull, keeping her steady against him, other arm practically holding her entire body. "I am sorry, baby, I am sorry. I know." he hurried to kiss her forehead and then dipped his nose into her hair, inhaling her scent, trying to find peace. "I know..." his own grief swirled inside of him, twisting painfully inside his throat; he didn't even realise silent tears were carving their way on his face. "I'm sorry I left." did he mean a few hours ago? did he mean a lifetime ago? "I am sorry I couldn't stop them."