A summer day in the backyard takes a turn. Jay will need the support of his family to get through this battle.
Chapter 19 is now available.
Read on Ao3 or below the cut.
Daddy lets him walk up the steps into the house.
He’s spent all morning being shuttled back and forth between exams and blood work before Dr. Lee finally decided he could go home.
Then had come the longest drive of his life.
Literally.
Dr. Lee had told his daddy on their way out of the hospital that he needed to be careful.
To leave the buckles on his car seat just a little looser than normal.
To avoid any harsh braking or anything else that might put pressure on Jay’s chest.
His chest still hurts.
They keep telling him that his incision his healing well but the main pain is deeper.
Especially when he moves too fast.
They say the bones will take the longest to heal.
That he needs to be careful or it will take even longer.
If that boring drive was being careful, it’s going to be a long couple of weeks.
Will is waiting inside with a banner and a new stuffed dog.
He hugs his big brother, careful to avoid putting any pressure on his chest.
Then daddy helps him climb up onto the couch and settle into the pile of pillows they’ve set up for him.
Tucks his heart pillow under his left arm and the dog under his right arm.
Pops a video from the library into the vcr.
The Voltron theme song fills the room and he turns to Will, motioning him up onto the couch.
Will climbs up next to him, sitting next to him and settling against the back of the couch.
Bridget joins her husband in the entry to the hall, watching them chatter about something beyond both of their parents understanding.
“It’s good to have him home.” she tells her husband. “Good to have both of you home.”
“I know I’m excited to sleep in my own bed.” he says. “Rather than that half-assed excuse for a recliner.”
“Just your own bed?” she asks.
“With my hot wife.” he whispers in her ear.
She giggles, nudging him.
“Maybe now that this is starting to get behind us, we should think about another one.” she suggests.
“You don’t think we’ve spent enough time in the hospital this year already?” he asks.
“New Years is coming up.” she says with a shrug. “New Year, New Beginnings.”
“New Baby?” he asks.
“Will is such a good big brother.” she says, “Shouldn’t Jay have that chance too?”
“Gonna make this same case for the new baby in a couple years?” he asks playfully. “And then the next one a few years after that?”
She shrugs.
“Can we have a little brother?” Jay calls from the couch and she dissolves into laughter, dropping her head onto his shoulder.
“I don’t know.” Will says. “A sister could be cool too.”
“And then we get stuck going to dance recitals like Bobby.” Jay says. “No way.”
“We haven’t made any decisions at all.” Pat says sternly. “And babies don’t work like that. You don’t fill out a request form for what you want. You take what you get.”
“Even if the kid comes with a defective heart?” Jay says quietly.
The entire room goes silent.
Pat and his wife exchange a look.
“Baby.” Bridge says, sitting on the couch next to her son and reaching for his hand. “Even then. Because you do have to take what you get but you also get what you need. Even if you don’t know it. Every family gets the baby that is the most perfect for them. Just like you and your brother. Because the two of you are perfect for this family.”
“Even if I’m broken?” Jay says, tilting his head to the side. “And cost too much money?”
“Kiddo.” Pat breathes. “You aren’t broken, sweetheart.”
“Dr. Lee had to fix me.” he says, looking disgruntled. “Cause I wasn’t born right. Cause you got a baby that was broken.”
He shakes his head.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have another baby.” he says. “What if they’re broken too?”
And it’s not like it hasn’t occured to her.
That if they had another baby, they might run into another congenital heart defect.
They’ve had Will screened, are confident that his heart is free of any defects.
“You had a minor defect of your heart that Dr. Lee repaired.” Bridget tells him. “There will be some follow up appointments but then you are going to live a perfect life and do whatever you want to do. And that tiny problem with your heart is just one piece of you. These last couple of months are just one little piece of your life. And I’m not a big fan of this particular snippet any more than you are but you are so much more than this. What you have to offer our family is so much more than this.”
“Really?” Jay asks, eyes wide.
“Really kiddo.” Pat says. “I promise this is all going to get better. You and your brother are both going to accomplish so many incredible things.”
Jay stares up at him, looking for any sign of dishonesty in his face.
the fact that will and jay’s dad can tell connor about how proud he is of his children but not his own children, and he can sit there and be absolutely awful to his children makes me so sad for Will and Jay
Day 11; this writing challenge has definitely helped me get creative again and I'm here for it! Idk why I'm on a Will and Jay as kids kick but here is another one of the boys young! Jay loses his bike wheels....something my own father warned me about as a kid and made sure I locked my bike up correctly so it wouldn't happen; Enjoy :)
Title: Wheels
From the moment Pat Halstead handed off each of his kids bikes to them, he made sure they knew they always...ALWAYS had to chain them up when they parked them somewhere. And he made sure they knew the proper way to do it too (through the center piece and through the spokes of the wheels)
He made sure they knew that even though they wouldn't do it, there were many people in Canaryville and around Chicago who wouldn't hesitate to steal the wheels off some poor kids bike and then they wouldn't have a bike anymore.
So when the brothers came out of the ice cream shop in Bridgeport, Will noticed immediately Jay was about to get in trouble.
"Uh, Jay? Your bike!" Squeaked out Will while running towards the bike rack with his ice cream dripping down his hand.
"No, no, no, this can't be happening!" Exclaimed Jay dropping his cone.
Will looked at the bike and sighed, "did you chain the bike the way dad taught us?" He knew the answer but he had to ask - his dad would later anyway.
Shaking his head, Jay ran a hand down his face, "the one time! I thought it would be fine since we were just running in to get a cone and would be out super fast!"
Will shook his head and patted his brothers back.
After a few minutes of mourning the loss of his bike, Will helped Jay up off the sidewalk and grabbed his own bike. The boys started their long walk home now.
"Will" sniffed Jay as they walked up S Halsted street
"Yea" asked Will, looking both ways before crossing the street.
"Dad's going to kill me, isn't he?"
Stopping his walk, Will looked at his brother, "he won't, the worst he'll do is ground you for a couple weeks and make you do chores to earn the money for new wheels"
The boys continued walking after that.
Later that night, the boys were in the living room watching reruns of MASH, when they heard their father come into the house.
"Jay Alexander! Get your butt over here now!" He exclaimed.
"Good luck" whispered Will while pushing his brother towards the sound of their father's voice.
"Come out here" Pat stated while exiting the house again.
Jay glumly followed knowing what was about to occur.
Once out front, the two walked over to where Jay and Will kept their bikes.
"So, Jay, wanna tell me what's wrong with this picture?" Pat asked while gesturing to the bikes.
"My bike is missing wheels" sighed Jay.
"And why is that?"
"Dad, I promise I always lock my bike up the way you taught us! It's just uh" stammered Jay
"Just what?" Roared Pat. "Did you think at all?" He added.
"Uh, well, uh, Will and I went for ice cream and I thought we would be in and out!"
Pat sighed and gently asked, "where did you go?"
"Scoops in Bridgeport" muttered Jay while looking at the floor.
"Look at me when your talking!" Growled Pat.
"Scoops!" Repeated Jay while looking at his father.
"Bridgeport is exactly where you should be locking your bike properly"
"Sorry" replied Jay.
Pat then brought Jay inside and sat him next to his brother.
"Jay, you'll be grounded for 3 weeks and have to help your mother with chores to earn wheels on your bike" started Pat while looking at his boys.
Jay nodded and Will began to grab the remote.
"And Will" started Pat while swiping the remote before his son could turn back on his show.
Will looked shocked that he was being addressed in the punishment portion of the night.
"For not making sure your brother locked his bike up properly, you are also to be grounded for 1 week and you have to bring your brother everywhere you go"
"What! Why?" Shouted Will. He was annoyed about being grounded for a week but the having his little brother follow him everywhere part was what really irritated him.
"You're older so your responsible for him when you go out. You went together to the ice cream place, you should have made sure he locked his bike properly" was all Pat relied with and once that was settled, he got up, moved to his recliner in the corner of the room and turned on the Sox game.
Word Count: 5.5k
Summary: Will invites Connor to a family dinner now that their relationship is official. Things haven't been great with his father lately, but this is a chance to make a fresh start. He even persuades Jay to come with them. The dinner doesn't go well, leaving Will questioning his desperate need to fix everything.
Warnings: Homophobia discussed/exhibited throughout, discussion of parental violence.
They hadn’t been there long when it happened. It was never going to be an easy evening, but that was, in essence, what it was supposed to have been—a quiet night with family, a simple dinner with his father, his brother, his partner. Will had been nervous for days now, but his father had revealed in one heart stopping phone call last week that he knew Will was seeing someone, and that he would like to meet this someone. Jay was so secretive about his own relationships, his father had said. It would be nice to know something about one of his sons. Things hadn’t really been better between his father and Jay lately, but they hadn’t been any worse, so Will extended the invitation to Jay for his own sanity more than anything else. Jay had agreed with reluctance, and a near audible roll of his eyes.
“For you,” he’d said. “Not for him.”
“Good enough,” Will had replied.
Wednesday evening came. Will dressed a little more smart than casual, bought their father a bottle of whisky at the store, and drove, with his partner, back to the very street he’d grown up on.
It never dawned on him that his father had said “seeing someone,” or that he’d persuaded Will to come to dinner by saying, “I want to meet this special someone.”
It never dawned on Will that his father didn’t realise the special someone was a man.
Connor and Will hadn’t gotten off to a great start. That was no secret. Not in the ED, not among their friends, and not to Jay. Jay, who listened to one too many of Will’s long suffering rants about Connor Rhodes before smirking at last, and finally telling him, “I think there’s something else going on here, Will.”
Will had—externally, at least—written it off. He’d scoffed, dismissed his brother’s prognosis of the situation with an easy wave of his hand. But he’d swallowed hard, he’d looked away, and he’d never been good at hiding these things from Jay anyway.
Weeks turned into months, and rivalry turned into something like being a team, something like camaraderie. Something like needing each other. They talked in the cafeteria, shared case notes in the staff lounge. They offered tentative invites for drinks at Molly’s, accepted them and actually turned up. Weeks turned into months and there had been that moment where Will had thought Connor might kiss him at the end of a difficult shift, their chests heaving in Chicago cold just outside the hospital doors, coats zipped to their necks, bags slung over their shoulders. There’d been a spark in Connor’s eyes—so staggering it almost frightened him—that was certainly hurt and maybe even longing. But he hadn’t kissed him, because Will had said a too quick goodnight and turned away, left with his heart slamming against his ribs. And then, a night when Jay was in the hospital, when someone had put a bullet in his brother in a grudge attack against his unit, and Will had driven through Chicago in a haze, parked on a street he’d never parked on before, and walked until he reached Connor’s door.
“Someone shot my brother,” he’d said, voice trembling. “And I don’t know why I’m here.” Connor had looked so disarmed, lips gently parted, eyes fixed on Will. He’d stepped aside without a word, and Will had spent the long hours of Jay’s surgery in Connor’s apartment.
For a long time, Will had thought of that night as the beginning of something, but he knew now that it wasn’t, that they had already been in the middle of it—of whatever they were becoming.
It had been official for around a month now.
And his father knew. That was the thing that baffled Will. He didn’t know about Connor specifically, had met him once before, in the days before either of them knew how to admit their feelings. But he knew—knew that Will had dated a couple women in the past, in the days before he felt safe enough to come out, in the days when he’d thought if he just tried hard enough to be what he was supposed to be, it would all fall into place. And it did, but not in the way his father had hoped. Something else had had to collapse first, and pieces of his relationship with his father had ended up in the wreckage.
He came out to his father in his mid twenties, years after Jay had done the same. There was an ugly part of Will that reared its head sometimes, this thing close to jealousy that cut him to shreds late at night when things were bad sometimes—this breathless hurt over the fact that Jay had been so much surer so much younger, that Jay hadn’t just told their father he was bi, but had told their mother as well. He’d known it when she was alive, had known how to say it aloud and he had, to their mother, and she had heard him. Will had never had that chance, not until he was saying it over a grave, and he thought sometimes about their mother’s response, the way she used to bring her hand to the back of his neck, look into his eyes and tell him she loved him, that everything would be okay. He wondered if this was what she’d done for Jay when he spoke the words to her for the first time. He wondered if she’d have done it for him.
Their father was different.
Their father had landed himself in hospital once. Will hadn’t been there at the time, already gone from Chicago and half convinced he’d never come back. His mother had been alive in this city and now she was gone. How could he face it? But Jay hadn’t left yet, hadn’t enlisted. Jay who’d been maybe nineteen at the time, who’d been alone in the house with his father when it happened. For years, his father told Will it was just a stupid accident. For years, Jay said nothing about it at all, went quiet any time it was mentioned. It took years, and one night of too much alcohol in Will’s apartment before Jay finally filled in the gaps of that night.
They’d argued, Jay stone cold sober, their father already swaying with the alcohol in his system, cheeks red, spitting as he hurled insults at his youngest son. He’d gotten home early from a bar crawl with some old friends, had walked in to find Jay on the couch, watching a movie with another boy, the two of them leaning against each other, hand in hand atop the blanket over their laps, the boy’s head on Jay’s shoulder, Jay half asleep like that in the living room.
The boy left quickly, and Jay had taken the yelling and the insults for as long as he could stand it, until at last he told their father to stop it, to leave him alone, to fuck off, as Jay had put it to Will.
And their father had thrown a punch then, slow and clumsy, easily sidestepped. But he’d lost his balance when the blow didn’t land, had hurtled to the ground and fallen through the glass coffee table in the living room. Glass shards in his side, blood on the floor. Jay had called 911, had reached down to help their father with the phone between his neck and his shoulder, and their father had shoved him away so abruptly that Jay had cut himself on a piece of broken glass, one long slash along the inside of his right arm. He still had the scar, faded but there. Six stitches, he’d said.
“Why didn’t you tell me this?” said Will, and Jay had looked down, shrugged.
“You weren’t there,” he’d said, eyes on his empty beer bottle.
“Jay,” Will had said, voice soft and cracking, an unintentional stab of pain.
“You’re here now,” Jay had said, “and that’s great. Really. I’m not trying to guilt you, Will. You asked me why I didn’t tell you. That was why.”
Will had had a fleeting thought that he could have killed his father for that. It wasn’t true, of course, but the thought flashed through him and felt, for a moment, like truth. Then the anger burned itself to embers in his chest as he watched Jay pick at the corner of the beer bottle’s label, and all he was left with was sadness and guilt.
It wasn’t exactly like that for Will—he hadn’t been faced with the violent side of his father, even while the man was drunk. In lighter moments, Jay would laugh with him about the irony of that, that if Pat Halstead wanted grandchildren someday, statistically speaking they were going to come from Jay. Neither one of them knew for sure if they wanted kids yet, but that was the truth all the same.
That was why his father confused Will. Will had had two girlfriends he’d claimed were serious, had held that word at his chest like a shield. Jay was the same—two serious girlfriends before the age of thirty—and of the two of them, only Will was certainly never going to date a woman again. He’d told his father this over an awkward, stilted breakfast when he was living in New York, the only time his father came to visit him there. He’d said nothing in response, hadn’t even met Will’s eyes, had downed his apple juice as if it were beer. So he knew. He hadn’t said anything, and not one word about Will’s sexuality had passed between them since then, but he knew. And yet, their father’s disapproval sparked brighter for Jay, and when Will walked in with his brother and Connor Rhodes, his father’s expression was so stern it looked as if it had been carved from stone.
“Who’s this?” He’d said, and Will had leaned in to give his father an awkward, one armed hug, suddenly regretting the whisky bottle held in his other hand.
“Dad,” he said when he pulled back, swallowed hard before carrying on. “This is Connor. You met once before, remember? He came here to check you over when you wouldn’t go to hospital.”
“Hm,” his father said, looking Connor up and down, apprising him. Connor’s eyes had flicked to Will for a moment, uncomfortable, but he’d masked his discomfort with a beautiful smile, reached out to shake the man’s hand. And Will watched, barely breathing, as his father took Connor’s hand and shook, his eyes sliding to Will, saying nothing.
“Nice to meet you in a better context, sir,” said Connor, as Jay greeted his father with a quick pat to his arm, moved deeper into the house. Pat’s eyes didn’t land on Jay, kept his focus on Connor instead. Will’s heart pounded. It baffled him sometimes, how even in their thirties, Will and Jay came back here and everyone slipped back into the roles they used to fit when they lived together in this house—Will waiting breathless for approval, Jay carrying the energy of an injured teenager just waiting to rebel, their father casting judgement at anyone his boys brought into the house. Beneath all that, there was the ever present undercurrent of pain, like static under the sounds of their voices, of the street noise outside—the knowledge that it had been all these years since their mother passed, and still they all knew she should have been there with them for this. What happened had happened, and it shouldn’t have, and none of that was ever going to change. As his father looked him in the eye, Will tried not to wonder what his mother would have thought of Connor. His father shook his head and sighed heavy.
“Come on,” he said. “Made too much food. Gonna need all the help I can get.”
The tension drained by a fraction as his father turned away, made for the kitchen. Will could breath again. Connor brought his hand to the small of his back, pressed a kiss to his temple, so quickly it was a secret, and kept his hand on the back of Will’s shirt until they reached the table. Will stepped away the moment his father glanced up to look at them.
They were about halfway through the evening when it happened. Halfway through the food, halfway through all the stories Connor was spinning to keep Will’s father engaged, to keep them from a silence that would probably swallow Will whole. Will was halfway to remembering how to breathe, to remembering that even a dinner with razor sharp undertones, at a table where no one had ever apologised for anything in their lives, could be just that—a dinner.
“Hey,” said Will, turning his focus to Jay suddenly. “Did you get a plus one for cousin Amy’s wedding?”
“Mhm,” said Jay, mouth full, voice muffled when he covered his mouth to speak. “Why?”
“I told you,” Will told Connor. “She likes him better. Always has.” Connor smiled at him. Jay laughed.
“She does not,” he said. “You didn’t get a plus one?”
“Nope.”
“Take mine,” Jay shrugged. “She probably thinks I’m still with Erin. We don’t exactly keep in touch.”
The words were out of Will’s mouth before he even realised what he was doing.
“What about Adam?”
Jay cut him a look, and Will swore they all stopped chewing at once, that he heard the way their bodies went still, their jaws stopped mid collective mouthful. His chest went tight with the tension he’d plumed into the air, and the guilt hit him so hard the room spun with it. He drew in a breath, already scrambling for ways to fix what he’d done, but Jay cleared his throat, gave the smallest shake of his head as if to tell Will it was fine. He’d worked hard to keep his father from knowing about his relationships, and there was a good reason for that, and a six inch scar on the inside of his arm to remind them all. And Will had blown it, too wrapped up in the comfort of pretending to be normal.
Their father’s eyes were fixed on Jay then, unblinking as he answered.
“I haven’t asked him,” he said. “I don’t know where we’re at with, uh, plus one situations yet.” Will nodded, watched Jay push his food around on the plate for a moment.
“So, Mister Halstead—“ Connor started, mouth open to say more until Will’s father interrupted him, eyes on his plate.
“Adam,” he said, echoing the name, saying it slowly like he was trying it out. His eyes went to Jay again, and the anxiety in Will was a living thing in his chest, desperate to get out from under his skin. “That your—boyfriend?”
“Someone I’m seeing,” Jay nodded.
“Okay,” their father said slowly, then pointed his knife at Connor. “And you’re the special someone Will’s been seeing.”
“We’re together,” said Connor, voice firmer than even the ground seemed right now. “Yeah.”
Will knew, better than most, that Connor was far from fearless. But he knew how to look uncomfortable moments in the eye, and he knew how to keep his voice strong and low, unwavering. And he knew about difficult moments with difficult fathers. Will was grateful for it in that moment, maybe more than he’d ever been before. Their father’s knife turned to Jay.
“And you’re seeing some—Adam,” he said. Will shot his brother an apologetic glance over the table, saw the way Jay clenched his jaw, swallowed hard before he spoke.
“Yep,” he said, something dangerous in his voice then.
“No,” said their father, and Will’s chest went tight with the feeling that something bigger was coming, that all the carefully placed pieces of the evening were being kicked out in front of him, scattered at his feet. And he couldn’t stop it, like there wasn’t any stopping it now. His chest heaved with every breath.
“No?” His brother challenged. “No what, dad? Come on.”
“Jay,” Will tried, but Jay’s eyes were locked with their father’s, the anger coming off him waves, both of them gone now, lost to this thing unfolding before him. Connor touched Will’s knee beneath the table, gave the smallest shake of his head when Will turned to meet his eye.
“Say it,” Jay bit, and Will pulled in a deep breath, willing it to steady him.
“I’m just saying,” said their father, voice low, matter of fact. “I didn’t raise a couple fags.”
Will’s stomach dropped. He let his eyes slip shut then. He’d always known his father wasn’t comfortable with queer people, even before Will learned about the coffee table incident. All those throwaway comments over the years, back when both Will and Jay were quiet about their truths, when Will hadn’t even told Jay he knew already, hadn’t told Jay just how fully he understood. He’d always known how his father felt, but this was disappointment, betrayal, and it stung—in his chest, behind his eyes, somehow even in his trembling fingers. Jay’s chair scraped against the floor, and Will’s eyes flew open again.
“Actually,” said Jay, rising to his feet, “you did.” His eyes landed on Will for a moment, bright with hurt and anger, Will’s own disappointment echoing back through his brother.
“Jay,” Will tried, voice soft.
“No,” said Jay, snatched his coat from over the back of the chair and left, stalked out of the room with his back to them all, one hand at his face. He let the front door slam behind him, and suddenly Will was 16 again, trying desperately to mediate between his father and his brother, wishing he could solve his father’s rage like it was a puzzle, fix his brother’s hurt like when they were small, when Will put plasters on Jay’s skinned knees and told him everything was okay now. He should never have left Jay the way he did, but in the end, he still understood the reasons he’d had to go, felt them like slow healing wounds, the same bitter taste at his back teeth as his father breathed a heavy sigh.
“Pop,” said Will. “Seriously?” His father’s eyes met his own over the table then, as sharp as Jay’s, the same stubbornness he’d instilled in Jay, but this thing he’d handed down had become nothing but a wall between them, a distance. A distance not lessened by Pat Halstead’s casual homophobia.
Connor sat opposite Will, his eyes trained on him as if waiting for a cue, and in Connor’s eyes he saw patience, deference to Will, but also anger, his hand balled into a fist on the table. He saw the way Connor worked to keep his breathing even, his expression still. He saw the way Connor clenched his jaw. Will knew Connor hated this, this strange reflection of his own father somehow, talking to Will and Jay like that. In the time they’d been together, Connor had grown to love Jay like a brother too, had become protective of both of them, treated them both as family. Will gave a small shake of his head, hoping it told Connor it had always been this way, that even Connor Rhodes could not put this broken thing right.
“Dad,” Will tried again, voice too soft, too tired of this.
“What?” Pat shrugged, reaching out to spoon more mashed potatoes onto his plate. “Kid’s always been too sensitive.”
“He’s thirty three years old, Dad.”
“You know what,” said Connor. “I’m gonna go check on him. You coming with?”
“I’m fine here,” said Will, heard the flatness in his own voice.
“I’ll be right outside,” Connor said, and Will tried to ignore the sparks of anger he could see in him, the way Connor cast his father an unashamedly pissed off look before crossing the room and leaving to go after Jay. Will’s heart pounded in his chest. This was a moment of change somehow, a moment of something shifting. He was searching for the right words, the ones that might finally make his father understand that all his sons wanted to do was exist in some kind of peace, to gain some kind of acceptance from him. His father simply kept eating his dinner.
“Do you have to say things like that?” Will asked. “Really?”
“What?”
“It’s hurtful, pop. Hateful, actually. You’ve met Connor once in your life and this is the impression you’re giving him—that you call your sons fags like the word doesn’t mean anything.”
“You just said it too,” said his dad, watching Will as he spoke. Will sighed sharply, like he was trying to let out the frustration, as if there was any outlet right now that would stop it from clouding over everything, turning everything grey.
“That’s different,” said Will. “I’m not using it to hurt someone. If you didn’t want us here, it actually would have been kinder to just tell us that.”
“You’re welcome here anytime,” said Pat, with a shrug of one shoulder and a look of near bewilderment. “You’re my sons.”
“I don’t even think you know us,” said Will. It was something he’d been thinking for a while now, words he’d let stick in his throat at various family dinners now, but none of them had been as terrible as this one. None of them had sliced quite so deep. His father scoffed.
“Come on,” he said. “I’ve known you both since day one. What don’t I know?”
“A lot, actually,” said Will, hating how his voice shook with the adrenaline coarsing through him. He rose from his chair then. Try as he might to stay here and fix this, his appetite was gone, and his brother and boyfriend were outside together, Connor probably talking Jay down from buying a 20 pack of smokes by now. And it ached in his chest to know this, but this wasn’t his to fix. It wasn’t his job to make his father understand that Will wasn’t just gay for the fun of it, that it wasn’t something he could or would ever choose to change. It wasn’t even his job to make his father understand that, yeah, it was possible to be two for two in terms of queer sons, that no drunken attempt at a punch was ever going to change that.
Will wanted to fix this, like he wanted to fix everything, but it was the thought of Connor and Jay outside that would pull him out of that house. At the end of the day, if he couldn’t save his father, Will would save himself from his father instead.
“I love you, dad,” said Will. “But I hate this part of you.”
“William,” said Pat, and when Will dismissed his father with a wave and kept walking, he heard the scrape of his father’s chair against the floor too, an echo of Jay walking out with his hurt. “You got this from your mother. Both of you.”
“Jay was right,” said Will, so quietly his father might not even have heard. “This was a stupid idea.”
The next part, he didn’t say, knew he couldn’t.
He’d just wanted Connor to meet the rest of his family, just wanted to bring him to the place where they’d all been whole once. Will, Jay, their father and their mother. Before her diagnosis, before the cracks in their family were anything more than normal disputes and two parents unaware that both their kids held secrets at their chests already. His mother used to laugh in that house, and he’d brought Connor there for a reason, and that was important—in a way he could scarcely put into words.
And now, casting his eyes along the street, Will spotted the two familiar silhouettes outside the nearest corner store, turned to shadow in the light from its windows. He sighed, staggered towards them, Connor’s car parked just a few feet away.
“You good?” Jay asked. “He shut up yet?”
“I’m good,” said Will. “And he hasn’t.”
“Okay,” said Jay. “I’m going to Molly’s.” With a nod to Connor, he started down the street, quicker than Will could stop him.
“Jay,” said Will, opening his mouth to plead more as his brother kept walking.
“I got a better offer for you,” Connor called after him, and this was the thing that made Jay stop. He turned slowly to face them, and Connor turned his smirk from one brother to the other. “My place. Got some pretty high brand booze just gathering dust, all of it pretty much stolen from my dad back in the day. Seems like we could use it.”
Will watched Jay look from Connor, to Will and back again.
“Come on,” said Connor. “You’re too old to sulk it off all night in a gay bar now. You know that, right?”
“Molly’s isn’t exactly a gay bar,” said Jay, and Connor scoffed.
“I’ve seen you there,” he said, making a face. “It basically is.”
Jay laughed then, and Will smiled, felt the tension draining out from his chest. But he cast a glance back to the house they’d grown up in, the house Will had left the first moment he could, the place he’d still been telling himself he’d never come back to while Jay cleaned blood from the floor and picked up all the shards of glass.
“Okay,” said Jay, something like a smile then. “I’m convinced.”
“Good,” said Connor, and Jay heaved a sigh.
“I’ll meet you guys there, okay?”
Jay pulled his keys from his pocket, moved towards his car with one last small smile for his brother. Will nodded, breathed out, watching Jay for a moment longer before he felt Connor’s arm slinging over his shoulder. Connor pressed a kiss to Will’s temple, and the heat in Will’s cheeks was immediate. There was still something strange about being kissed by his boyfriend on the street he grew up on, the street where he’d spent so much of his life trying to look like something he wasn’t. He found himself smiling then too.
“Your dad’s an asshole,” said Connor. “You do know that, right?”
“I do,” said Will.
“Good,” said Connor.
“He just doesn’t get it,” said Will. “I used to think I could make him understand, but I don’t know anymore. And him and Jay? They just…rile each other up.”
“Will,” said Connor, as Will watched Jay’s truck shifting out of its parking space, moving off down the street.
“Hm?”
“It’s worse than not getting it,” he said, and Will furrowed his brow, the barest tremor in Connor’s voice. “He’s a bigot. He knows what he’s doing. The stuff he said in there, the way he was acting? A lot of parents don’t get it, Will. Not everyone acts like that.”
“He doesn’t get the bi thing,” said Will. “Like, really doesn’t get it. He’s met the couple girls Jay thought were the one, you know? One of them, dad really liked. It’s a whole thing. Jay just doesn’t bring anyone home to meet him anymore. Keeps it all private. I didn’t mean to ask about Adam.”
“Will,” said Connor, voice soft, stepping back to look at him. “Listen to me. Jay’ll forgive you. That doesn’t matter. I know you have this perfect, idealised vision of what your dynamic with you dad could be, and maybe one day he’ll work with you to get you there. But honestly, babe? Speaking as the boyfriend of one of Pat Halstead’s sons, I kinda see why Jay doesn’t bring people home anymore.”
“I know,” said Will.
“And you can’t fix this for Jay either,” Connor added. “Whatever Jay wants to do next with this relationship, it’s his move, not yours.”
“I know,” said Will. “I know.”
“I really don’t think you do,” said Connor, and Will met his eye then, saw Connor looking at him like they were standing at the edge of an emergency, the way you look at someone when they don’t think the blood seeping through from their wound is going to slow them down.
“What am I supposed to do, Connor?” Will asked. “I walked away once, and it didn’t work.”
“You were a kid then,” said Connor, taking Will’s hands in his own now. “Like I was when I left. It’s different now. You’re not supposed to do anything. You have to figure out what you want to do.”
“I know,” said Will, pulling his hands away gently. He ran a hand through his hair, pinched the bridge of his nose and drew a long breath before looking up again. “Okay, fine. Let’s get drunk. Very drunk. Me, you, and my very pissed off brother.”
Connor smiled then, a small thing, like a balm on a wound.
“Okay, babe,” he said. “But I’m driving.”
“Okay,” said Will, breathing easier. Connor made everything seem so much simpler, even this stupid mess with his father that Will should never have dragged him into. He worked to find the words, only speaking when they were in the car, en route to Connor’s apartment. “I’m lucky, you know. To…to have you?” His cheeks burned after he said it. All that thinking, those minutes spent trying to phrase it right, and that was how it came out. Like a question. Like an embarrassed teenager.
“Oh,” said Connor, grinning as he looked out at the road. “I know. Oh, and by the way, I lectured Jay on the dangers of taking up smoking again, so that’s one less thing for you to do tonight.”
“For fuck sake,” Will said, but despite it all, he said it with a small smile.
“Yeah,” said Connor. “Pretty much what I said. Think he just needed a little talking down. And better coping mechanisms.”
“So you offer him unlimited high brand alcohol,” Will said, and Connor shrugged.
“Eh,” was all he said.
They lapsed into silence after that, the drive nearly done by the time Will said it. He’d sunk lower into the seat now, letting the sounds of traffic and Connor’s choice of quiet radio station wash over him, thinking about the way he saw his father in his brother, and the way he wanted them all to know something like peace together.
“The older I get,” said Will, practically mumbling, “the less I think there’s actually a chance my father’s going to accept me.”
“I’m sorry,” said Connor at the wheel, just a couple of blocks from his apartment now.
“How do you deal with it?” Will asked. “I mean, it’s the same for you. Worse probably.”
“Not worse,” Connor said. “There’s not a scale. If it hurts it hurts, Will. I used to deal with it by…working myself to death trying to be everything my father wasn’t, everything he didn’t think I could ever be. I wanted to show him I could be all those things, and more, and still be gay. I don’t recommend that tactic, though. Also, you’re not seventeen and just leaving home.”
“You know you’re basically advising my brother and me to get blind drunk tonight, right? All while critiquing our current coping mechanisms.”
“Well,” said Connor. “Yeah. It’s healthier than trying to change someone.”
“Yeah,” Will admitted, and the rest of the drive passed in silence, just a few minutes left, Connor’s hand coming to rest on Will’s knee. Will watched him for a moment, driving with one hand on the wheel like that. “Showing off like that leads to recklessness, you know.”
“You haven’t even seen recklessness yet,” said Connor, pulling the car into the spot behind Jay’s. When they stopped, neither of them moved for a long moment, Will’s eyes on the dash, Connor’s hand still on him. “Listen, Will. Whatever happens, it’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be fine, and so is Jay.”
“Maybe no more family dinners for a while,” said Will.
“No, I liked the family dinner idea,” said Connor. “Next time, we just won’t invite your dad.”
“Okay,” Will said, managing a laugh.
“Come on,” Connor said, pushing the drivers door open now. “Seeing you guys drunk together’ll make up for a crappy night.”
“Shut up,” said Will, and for a moment, he was sure Connor was right. Somewhere among the wreckage, he’d find his way back from tonight. He’d get so drunk he’d barely think about it, then when he was sober and the hangover was fading, he’d tried not to spiral at all, would try to simply process it instead. He wasn’t very good at doing things that way around, but he’d try. Will Halstead could leave one broken situation broken, especially if it meant saving himself, his brother, Connor. He could do it for them, for himself. He was sure of it.
All that was left now was to prove that to himself.
series summary: in which jay finds an old video camera and him and y/n decide to document their life as it progresses
a/n: this is about a year too late, but i finally got around to writing a part two to this, i was overwhelmed by the support last time. hope you enjoy :)
31st december 2013
if there was one thing that y/n hated, it was making small talk with a bunch of her neighbours. she knew how mean that sounded, but it was the truth. it was the way they worded their questions to serve both as jabs for informations with a hint of an insult, whilst covering it up with the largest fake smile that they could muster up. it was something mrs franklin, the 45 year old, mother of 4 had gotten well practised at, as y/n had the displeasure of finding out.
"so, how's the job hunt going? i know after you dropped out of university it must have been quite a struggle to keep afloat? isn't that why you are still living here with your mom?" she sneered, as she sipped innocently on the cheap bottle of wine y/n's mom had personally assigned just for her consumption. y/n had to restrain herself from slapping the glass clean out of her hand as she remembered what her mother had instilled in her for the last week in preparation for this exact moment.
"oops, i think i hear my mom calling. enjoy your night, yeah?" she stay posed, as she flashed one more faux smile before striding away from the living room and into the kitchen where she grabbed whatever was closest and downed it as quick as she could, frowning at the permanent numbness that hollowed out her entire body.
her head was ringing from the chatter that filled the house, and that would most likely continue until the new year had been welcomed in. the laughter and smiles that were being thrown around didn't sit right with y/n, for what was another year if it was just going to be like the last two. her life had imploded in her hands leaving nothing but a body behind that had no choice but to survive.
"y/n!" someone called out from the other room, however before they had a chance to find her, y/n grabbed two beers from the fridge and shimmied out the back door. the sudden fan of cold december air on her face made her entire chest burn, but y/n liked it, at least it broke the monotony. even if it was just for a couple minutes.
avoiding eye contacts with everyone she passed, y/n found herself rounding her own house until she was stood in the driveway of the neighbouring one. a small smile etching itself on her face as her eyes were met with the old, rotten porch swing that was missing the woman that would be doing her crossword or simply sipping on a cup of coffee no matter the hour. a shiver ran down the woman's back, realising there would not be another moment that she got to see that again.
the house had stayed the same even after all these years, the same paint was chipping away and the wood door was still damaged from where a football had hit it repeatedly during the early years of their sons' lives. however unlike the busy chaos that had once been habituated in the abode, no lights could be seen, no life. just a dull darkness that highlighted how the house she once had known, the family, couldn't be any more different.
pushing past the knot in her stomach, y/n approached the gate to the back garden that was slightly ajar. as she investigated further, a small smile etched itself upon her lips as she was met with two white plastic garden chairs, in one sat pat halstead, whilst the other remained empty.
"well, well, i thought your mother would have chained you to your seat to stop you from pulling a fast one." pat teased, as his eyes strayed away from the dark sky to inspect the woman. patting the seat besides him, the twenty something year old collapsed down into it, before handing one of the cans over to the man, receiving a whispered 'thank you'.
"she got distracted by the mini quiches like an hour ago and i haven't seen her since. couldn't stay there much longer, celia and claire were debating whose husband was the biggest deadbeat." she sighed, as the pair clinked their cans together before they took a longing sip of the liquid, and slipped further down the slightly cracked plastic. her eyes were drawn upwards into the pre-midnight bleakness. however where the winter clouds usually suffocated it, there was a small breaking where two stars shone proudly above them.
"beautiful aren't they?" pat pointed out, clearly confirming y/n's thoughts that the two stars had been the same thing that had caught his interest when she first arrived. running a hand over the wiry beard he had grown over the last two years, his eyes began to water. "uh, sometimes i like to think it's liz and your old man up there, sure she would be chatting his ear off about you and your brother. as well as watching over our jay wherever he may be."
y/n was taken off guard by the older man's comments, but she tried to contain it. in the years she had known pat halstead, it was extremely rare that he voiced his honest opinion about anything. or at least one that wasn't followed by a sarcastic grumble or insult. but to talk about his wife and his son, as well as his best friend, with such emotion brought tears to y/n's eyes.
"you haven't heard from him have you?" she asked in a whisper, not knowing if she truly wanted the answer. the last communication she had with the youngest halstead had been throughout the last period of his mother's life until a little after the funeral, however after not receiving a reply once again and her life on a down spiral she surrendered.
"no, no i haven't," however y/n couldn't help notice that something didn't seem right. maybe it was the way that he shuffled in his chair, refusing to pull his eyes away from the sky to meet her own sad ones. however before she got the chance to confront him, he brought himself to his feet. "wait one moment, i have something for you." watching as he disappeared back into the house, y/n tried to figure out what was going on with him? maybe he wasn't sleeping again? it had been the same for months after the funeral, but she thought he was healing just slightly. she really hoped he had been.
a couple moments later, pat reemerged this time the thing he held in his hands had stolen every inch of y/n's focus. the metal lump that held a thousand memories was being cradled, similar to the way she had been holding it when he had handed it to pat. the sound of his wife's voice in the last clip was something that pat had severed for the last year and a half. it was the thing he would fall asleep to and the thing he would play when he woke up. his liz was still alive in the camera, she was still his liz.
"i thought- i thought you-." y/n couldn't muster up a single thought to vocalise as she was passed the camera. her eyes ran over each dint, scratch, stain that had been acquired over the years. every memory she severed had the image of the red flashing light in it, and yet the person in those videos was someone she no longer recognised.
"this is your life, and i know it feels like it's over, but you have so much to live for and if these videos don't show you that then i don't know what else will." in a rush of uncontrollable emotion, pat wrapped his arms around the daughter he never had and held her as she let out a quiet sob, unsure how to feel.
returning to their seats, pat held y/n's hand as they sat for what felt like days watching the sky deepen. as pat seemed to pray to the heavens that his liz was alright, y/n let her mind run ablaze with unresolved thoughts and emotions as she watched video after video.
it was moments before 2014 came along when her phone let out a painful shrill in search of attention. letting out a small groan, she pulled it from her back pocket, pausing the prom video to answer.
"hello?" she answered.
"y/n where are you? come on, the countdowns about to begin!" her mother yelled clearly unable to hear herself. sighing, looking over to pat who seemed to be hiding something in his eyes, she agreed before hanging up the phone.
"it's not too late for you to come with me you know..." she fluttered her eyes in a humorous attempt at convincing him. the deep chuckle that arose from pat's chest spoke enough for her to work out what was coming next.
"as much as i would love to chit chat with celia and clare over a mini quiche, i'm gonna have to decline." pushing herself off the chair, she leaned over to kiss his cheek softly, pulling away to see the small smile.
"happy new year, pat."
"happy new year, y/n."
--
the moment she reappeared in her house, she was pretty much been jostled around. somehow the camera that she had walked in with had disappeared from her gasp, and she had made her way to her mother's sight closest to the tv as the countdown clock appeared on the screen. the way her mother smiled at her was slightly unnerving, she knew the woman better than anyone in this world, and just like pat, she was hiding something.
"ten!" they began to chant.
"nine!"
"eight!"
"seven!" a drink was pushed into her hands, which she concerningly took without hesitation. she wasn't even sure who gave it her, but a drink was exactly what she needed right now.
"six!"
"five!"
"four!"
"three!"
"two!"
"one!" suddenly the tv screen was a picturesque screen of fireworks exploding around the country before the whole room erupted in a cheer.
"happy new year!" suddenly everyone was locking lips with their loved ones, friends and whoever was closest to them. however y/n tried to step back, and disappear into the crowd offering a couple of smiles until suddenly she hit something, or someone.
"shit, i'm sorry." she immediately gasped as the drink she was holding splashed against the dress she was wearing, however when she turned to look at her victim her mouth dried out.
there, stood in her living room was jay halstead, in the same uniform that she had last seen him stood in on her doorstep the day he left. what felt like the whole world silencing was actually just everyone in the room turning to look at the pair of them, smiling as they watched the reunion of the couple that never was. however they neither jay or y/n could pull there eyes away from their counterpart.
for a moment they were 17 again, teenagers that didn't know a thing about the world whilst experiencing it together. but this was different, for they were older now. jay's face was more mature, with stumble around his jaw that made him look more in his twenties. y/n's hair was much longer and ever so slightly darker, but jay remembered how the winter did that to her.
"hi." jay smiled, reaching forward to move stands of her hair behind her ears to avoid it from covering up those eyes that were far more fragmented than they had been before. but then again y/n saw the exact same distortion in his own, like half a heart that was on the edge of collapsing.
but at the sound of his voice, y/n fell face first into reality. she remembered every unanswered letter, the loss of hope when she laid in bed completely alone wondering if he was even still alive. she recalled the nights she would sleep on the hospital chair besides his dying mother praying to every god out there that he would be brought back in time to to say goodbye. but it didn't happen, she was left in a void and she didn't know if she would ever be able to get out.
"i-i need to go." she suddenly mumbled, quickly brushing past the army ranger and through the crowd. the awkward, confrontational silence that remained in the room was already enough to tip her over the edge, which only worsened when she saw the red flashing light. stood on the stairs filming the whole debacle was her little brother, who wasn't so little anymore. noticing the shift in mood, he awkwardly lowered it and offered her a sad smile, before she escaped out the door.
what are you doing, she thought, you finally get him back and you are trying to create distance between you two? that was just one of the many nags that bounced off each memory relaying in her mind. so this was what was wrong with pat, he must of known. he knew what was planned, and he said nothing. y/n couldn't blame him, there was no one in this city that would have predicted that she would just walk out like that, well maybe one but he had only just rejoined her life so she couldn't be sure.
her feet lead her to where her heart wanted to be, she cursed herself out for being so stupid as to wear a dress and not grab a jacket during her whole walk out. but the bite of the wind wore off the more blocks that passed until she reached the old creaky gate.
pushing against the metal, even in the pitch black she knew her way. the amount of times she had ended up late at night in this very place gave her that advantage. as she approached the engraved slab that she had helped pat pay for, a sob raked through her body.
"god i wish you could be here right now," crouching down, she leaned forward to run her cold fingertips over the 'ELIZABETH HALSTEAD' scripture. mrs halstead always knew what to say, in any situation. jay and y/n used to blame it on the abundance of dr phil episodes she had watched over the years. yet there was a depth to her words that made your problem feel shared rather than suffocating. "although i'm sure you would be cursing me out right about now for being such an idiot." she thought out loud, remembering what the woman had said when she had told her about the kiss she had shared with the older's son.
she had joked about how it took long enough and what she was going to wear to their wedding, neither of them considering the possibility that she wouldn't get chance for her theory to prosper.
"if that's true, then she must despise me right now." the sudden introduction to the deep voice nearly produced a scream from the woman that turned to see jay staring longingly at the gravestone. just as he brought his eyes to her's, she quickly turned back around, running her hands over her face wondering if he would disappear and all of this would have just been a dream. only it wasn't it was something much more chaotic, filled with resentment, love and the unknown.
"your mom loved you and will more than anything, i don't think she could despise you if she tired," she hummed through a sigh, as jay took a seat besides her. similar to how she had, he leaned forward to run his fingertips over the softened stone, muttering something that he hoped only his mother would hear.
"i really fucked up, y/n/n," hearing the crack rip through his voice, had y/n's head snapping over to him as his shoulders shook slightly as he wrestled with his sadness. "i wasn't here when she needed me most, i wasn't here when you needed me most. she was dying and i wasn't even there to tell her i loved her, what kind of son am i?" the torment that was present in jay's eyes as he turned to look at the only woman that was on the earth to love him ate at y/n's soul, as she found herself wrapping her arms around him, comforting him like he did after the death of her father.
"you a son that made his mother unconditionally proud. she never stopped telling one everyone at hospital about her boys." swiping tears away from under his eyes, ignorant to her own that burnt a trail down her skin.
"i'm not the same guy that left 5 years ago, what i've seen, what i've done-," jay let out a deep breath trying not to fall into the a box of memories he wish he could set alight and never have to face ever again. thankfully the feeling of y/n's fingers tracing nothing in particular against his back grounded him, reminding him that he had been reunited with his home, with his family, with his first and only love. "i got out of there, but that doesn't mean that the war in my mind isn't still on going."
y/n wished she had the answer, a solution, something to help him but she just didn't know what to say. instead she pulled him in tighter, feeling every tip in the think material of the uniform. a uniform that wasn't the jay she knew, but the jay that the army had created, but she knew underneath the camo was still the boy that held her when she feared the lightening outside, or the teenager that broke bryson ellis' nose after he spread rumours about their brief romantic encounter. he was her saviour, he always had been.
"your letters, i did get them. got each one of them in my bag, used to read them before i went to bed. i tried writing back, but i couldn't think of anything to say. i couldn't make anything better and i didn't want you to worry, but i realise that i only made everything worse. i'm just so sorry." pulling away, now it was jay's turn to hold her. in fact he pulled her so close that she was practically in his lap, embracing his body heat with open arms.
"everything's changed, jay," she mumbled, her forehead resting on his chest as she spoke softly. "your mom's gone, your dad's lost, and- and then you and me. last time we saw each other we kissed, we kissed. i- just, i don't know what's happening but i can't stop it." for a moment they both sat there, taking in just how much had changed since they had last been y/n and jay not y/n and jay.
with much care, jay placed his hands around her jay prompting her to look at him. the intense look in his eyes didn't falter for a minute, as he admired the swirls of colour in her's.
"i have been in love with you my entire life, and that is one thing that will never change." declaring his love for y/n y/l/n had always been something jay fantasised about, even as he was stood in a war zone, however never had he imagined it would be in a grave yard nearly an hour into the new year as they fought against the frost. but then again, he didn't care where he was in the world as long as he was by the side of his girl, his love, his y/n.
in a rash moment of euphoria, y/n grabbed his face and pushed his lips against his as if making her own statement to the universe. every ounce of her own soul fuelled itself into something so powerful that was out of the pair's hands. as jay moved his lips against her own, the meaning burnt their insides until they had no choice but to pull away to catch their breath.
with their foreheads touching, for the first time in what felt like 5 years a genuine grin was mirrored on the pairs lips.
"i'm in love with you too." y/n breathed out ruggedly, clearly catching jay by suprised as his eyes widened before the smile on his face got wider.
"wait really?" those had been the words he had wished to hear for every birthday since he was 11, now hearing them made everything a little more brighter. his heart was bumping so quickly, y/n could feel it against her own, yet she said nothing, too caught up in the moment.
"i think it was ignorant of me to think i wasn't years ago. you are it for me, jay halstead." she smiled leaning forward to press another kiss on his lips, this time though it felt as though she was putting the final period on the end of a chapter that neither of them wanted to experience again. for this was a new beginning, the beginning of the story of their lives, together.
I know a lot people don't like Pat but like what if it was Jay's apartment building they moved him too cause then Jay could be there but not share apartment so his dad could still be independent and it was Jay Pat raced up to save I just killed myself with overload of feels tbh
I really like that idea. And maybe while he’s living there, he and Jay could patch up their relationship a little. I think a lot of people don’t care for Pat because of how the writers portrayed him. It's hard to feel for the guy (or care about him much at all) when we’re meant to think he’s an asshole. Jay has had it so hard. It would have been nice to see him have a good relationship with his father, but networks really only care about ratings, unfortunately.
