Will woke up to cold and darkness.
For one long moment, he didn't know where he was, and his breath caught in his throat. A confused rush of memories rushed in: his father sinking under the water, the phantom ache of frostbitten hands, desperation pushing him onward, Gus's blood frozen on his hands, the startled realization that he could do it as he pointed his gun in a man's face.
And then the present reoriented itself.
Will closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to convince himself that it wasn't 1917. That he wasn't that seventeen-year-old boy any longer. The air in his rooms was cool, yes, but it wasn't the biting cold from his memories.
The noises of the city played outside his window even now, as early in the morning as it had to have been. It was nothing like the farm he had grown up on, miles away from the nearest neighbors. People were practically on top of each other here. It wasn't possible to truly be alone, like it had been in South Dakota. Like it had been during the—
He cut off that train of thought abruptly, forcing his mind to focus on the present.
It felt as if hours had passed before he slowly opened his eyes again, but he doubted it had been more than a few minutes. He breathed slowly, carefully, for another moment or two before reaching for the small lamp beside his bed.
The bright light felt harsh to his eyes as it chased away the darkness, pushing away the last vestiges of his dreams. He picked up his pocket watch from where it was resting next to the lamp and glanced at it, grimacing when he saw the time. It was early, yes, but not quite early enough for him to try to get any more sleep for the night.
The first few days you sleep five hours. Then four. Then three. Then two. The last day you don't sleep. You just run. Run to the end.
Will flinched as Ned's words of advice from all those years ago echoed in his head, as if he'd just heard them.
With a sigh, he pushed himself up into a sitting position and let his bedcovers pool in his lap as he stretched. The air around him was cold enough to wake him up without being too uncomfortable, the slight chilliness of early spring rather than the freezing cold of winter. It shouldn't have been enough to make him remember that week, to put him at risk at getting lost in memories from years ago, but knowing that it shouldn't never stopped it from doing just that.
It looked like he was going in to work a bit earlier than usual today.
Looking back, he sometimes wanted to laugh at how naïve he had been once upon a time. "Go to college" had been the entirety of his plan, the dream that he had focused on without stopping to really think about the practicalities of it. He hadn't had a specific area of study in mind. He hadn't known anything about the world outside his small piece of it.
The boy he had been back then never would have seen this future for himself. He hadn't thought about what he really wanted to do with his life, but this? This wouldn't have even crossed his mind for a second. Will was certain of that much.
The very familiar sound of someone clearing their throat pulled Will out of his thoughts, and he came to an abrupt stop. He glanced up, not surprised to see Kingsley leaning against the wall just inside the doorway.
"Hey kid," Kingsley said. "You're here early."
There was a slight inflection at the end, as close to being a question as possible without actually being one.
Will's mouth twitched, trying to smile despite his best intentions. "Morning, Kingsley."
Kingsley raised an eyebrow. He still didn't ask anything, not out loud, but Will could hear the unspoken words as clearly as if he had. After seven years, he knew the other man well enough to read between the lines.
Will met his gaze and gave him a half-shrug.
There was a flash of something in Kingsley's eyes, a sign that he'd understood exactly what Will hadn't said. Then he grinned, suddenly flinging an arm over Will's shoulder in comradery, changing the subject without ever saying a word.
"Come on, Will," he said, pulling him in the direction of his desk. "Let's talk. I got a tip that I think could turn into something big."
Will wasn't entirely certain when he had decided that working for a newspaper was what he wanted to do with his life. It was because of the race, he knew that much, but the precise moment?
Maybe it was those people in the crowd, near the end of the race, rooting for a boy they had never met because of words they had read in a newspaper. America's hope, they had said. Or maybe it was one of the letters that he received from complete strangers, telling him what his story had meant to them. Or maybe, just maybe, it was that damn paragraph Kingsley had written in one of his many articles about Will. It had been nothing but a few sentences, a handful of words strung together, but it was enough to ensure that Will's father would never truly be forgotten.
Whatever the reason, the idea of telling other people's stories had suddenly seemed right.
A glass of what smelled like fairly awful bathtub gin appeared in front of Will's face. "You think too much, Will."
Will rolled his eyes as he took the offered drink from Kingsley, grimacing as a quick sip told him that it tasted as bad as it smelled. "That's what you keep telling me, Harry."
"And I'm going to keep telling you until you listen," Kingsley said, gesturing with his own glass for emphasis.
Will snorted, but he knew better than to argue. Instead, he took another sip of his drink.
Kingsley grinned and leaned in closer to him, his thigh pressing against Will's under the table. Will tensed, more out of instinct than anything else. Then his gaze focused on two men sitting a few tables away, one of them practically in the other's lap, and he let out a breath he hadn't even realized he was holding. Part of him wondered if he'd ever get used to places like this. Not that long ago, he'd never even knew they existed, and now here he was.
Beside him, Kingsley looked smugger than he had any right to be.
"Don't say a word," Will muttered, taking a larger swallow of his drink. It took everything he had not to go into a coughing fit.
If anything, Kingsley's grin grew even wider. "Wouldn't think of it. Now hurry up and finish your drink."
"Why do I want to do that?" Will asked. Despite the question, he still obediently took another swallow of his gin.
Kingley's hand felt as hot as fire, even through his clothes, as it slipped down to rest on the small of his back. "And ruin the surprise?"
Will woke up to light and warmth.
He blinked blearily at the ceiling for a moment, almost as familiar as that of his own rooms, before he noticed a clicking sound coming from nearby. Yawning a little, he pushed himself up and glanced in the direction that the noise was coming from. Kingsley was sitting at his desk by the door, wrapped in a warm-looking dressing gown and typing away at his typewriter. A small lamp was turned on beside him, lighting the entire room even though it was on dim.
"Couldn't sleep?" Kingsley asked, not even glancing away from his typewriter.
Despite his best intentions, Will couldn't help but smile at the question. "Not really," he admitted. "Someone was making all sorts of a racket, keeping me up."
At that, Kingsley did look away from his typewriter long enough to shoot Will a quicksilver grin. "Sounds like a horrible person."
"The worst," Will agreed, his mouth twitching in amusement. "He could do with a lesson or two."
Kingsley smirked, not even attempting to hide the fact that he was pointedly looking Will up and down. Will felt his face grow warm as he realized that he'd let the blankets slip into his lap, revealing his bare chest and the upper part of his right thigh completely.
"He could certainly do with a lesson or two," Kingsley agreed, still smirking. He stood up from the desk, and in a few strides he was standing beside the bed.
His face still heated, Will reached out and grabbed Kingsley's dressing gown, pulling him down enough to press his lips against his in a rough kiss.
Kingsley moaned slightly as Will pulled away a moment or two later. "Going to punish me then, Will?" he asked a little breathlessly. "Is that what you want?"
It's about you, Will. What about you?
A shiver ran down Will's spine, and for just an instant he was in another place and another time. Then he was back in the present with Kingsley leaning over him, his hair mussed and his dressing gown halfway open.
"Will?"
Will pulled him down for another kiss.