i hsve so many beyondlaw wips, im sorry.. one day theyll see the light of day but i keep switching my interest to a new thing of theirs every time i start something good
âDo you think in another life, we couldâve gotten married?â Henry slurs thoughtfully, staring into the whirlpool of whiskey he had spun in the simple glass clutched in his hand. It was usually for celebration, but just managing to keep their restaurant open was an accomplishment in itself, wasnât it? That called for a good Irish drink.
He looks up when the silence lingers for too long, and a soft scoff slips past his lips at the sight of Williamâs disbelieving face. Was it really such a brazen question?
âWhat? Whyâre you lookinâ at me like that?â
The lost composure begins to come back, with William smoothing his hands over his wrinkled, unbuttoned shirt and flashing Henry his signature grin. One leg crosses over the other, and he props an elbow up on the back of Henryâs shabby, beige coach.
He holds his head up in his palm and hums, confusing the held-back smile and blotchy red in Henryâs face for the alcohol in his system, when instead itâs taking everything in Henry not to laugh at the brief dramatic performance from William.
âYou just always emphasize how important it is that we have one life and should live it well. Iâd never expect you to imagine the idea of another lifeâunless youâre unhappy with the one you have now?â
âIâm not fallinâ into this psychological trap,â Henry grunts, raising the glass to his lips. âYou couldâa jusâ said the question was dumb. Donât embarrass me, Will.â
And for a moment, William is distracted by the bob of Henryâs Adamâs apple when he gulps. Once. Twice. The glass is empty. He enjoyed times like this, where Henry was tipsy enough to let himself go, and his stoic nature drooped into something more emotional. Sure, he was always blunt and spoke his mind, but there was rarely ever a toothy grin or a deep furrow of Henryâs eyebrow to suggest an easier method to read him.
Before Henry can reach for the half-empty bottle that sits a little too close to the edge of the coffee table, William reaches out and takes it by the neck instead.
âLet me.â He says in that charming way that leaves Henryâs mouth dry despite the drink still on his tongue. Mutely, Henry nods and tips the glass toward William, who avoids it completely in favor of nudging the bottleâs opening to Henryâs open, awed mouth.
âIf you were a woman, sure. We could have gotten married.â Maybe the alcohol was getting to William, too. He barely even processed his own words.
And wasnât that the tragedy of it? Something they could never change, dictating how they have to spend the rest of their lives.
Silence falls over them again, and William gently tilts the bottle up, urging Henry to drink. He does so obediently, and wipes his mouth with his sleeve once he swallows.
âYou knowâŠâ Henry starts, something important on the tip of his tongue until his eyebrows come together and he gives William a look that suggests offense.
âWait. Why would I be the woman?â
Itâs so ridiculous that William canât stop the hearty laugh that rises from his chest. The tension is gone, replaced with a softer warmth in the air. Henry, despite his confusion, canât help but smile at Williamâs contagious laughter.
âWill. Iâm serious. Tell me.â
William only laughs harder, and Henry drops it eventually with a shake of his head and a silly insult mumbled under his breath.
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