It was a slow acceptance.
But perhaps 'acceptance' wasn't the right word. He never accepted it. He never allowed that thought to pierce his foggy mind.
Will raised a bottle to his lips. Was it the tenth one that day? He couldn't remember. He never remembered. His mind was numb. Too numb to function. But maybe it was better that way. He wouldn't be able to feel any guilt. Or misery. Or sorrow.
He drank away the pain. That's what he told himself, at least. He promised to stop tomorrow. Another drink wouldn't hurt, right? Nothing could hurt more than what he had done.
Will glanced at the empty fireplace. He tried to remember the last time he had lit it. A year? No, more than that. Or perhaps it was just a week? He never longed for a cup of coffee. He never longed for a warm meal. It hurt too much to set fire to the lonely, dead coals.
Dead.
Like Alyss.
How could such a thing bring so much happiness, security, and comfort? That's what fire used to provide Will with. He had seen the blazing flames dance among the burnt ruins. He watched helplessly as his beloved was engulfed in them. How could the very same element light the darkness when it only left destruction in its wake?
Will waited as the sour alcohol slid down his raw throat. It stung his already burning lungs. It hurt to talk. To breathe. It hurt to simply exist. But did it matter anymore? Did anything in life matter anymore? What was the point of living when you knew that everyone around you would inevitably perish? That even your own existence would slowly wither away to nothing, crumbling like the ashes from the fire that took Alyss's life.
Will let the now empty bottle rest on his knee, but still gripping onto it with all he had left.
Which wasn't very much.
As his will to live slowly decreased, so did his grip on the glass bottle. It slipped from his feeble grasp, and shattered into fragments on the floor, scattered among the rest of the glass shards of the bottles he smashed.
Will picked up another full bottle. It was his last one. He could go buy more. Or maybe he wouldn't. Maybe it would be easier to just lie here. Halt always called him out for taking the easy route when he was an apprentice.
That time seemed like ages ago.
Halt wasn't here this time. He wasn't here to push him to work harder. He wasn't here to tell him to never give up.
And so Will gave up.
It was so easy. Why hadn't he done this years ago? It was more pleasant than facing the cruel world outside.
But then Will remembered.
He had never given up because he had something to live for.
The Corps. Halt. Alyss. Gilan. Crowley. Horace.
He was oblivious to the world crashing down around him. Oblivious until everything he loved slowly left the world.
And slowly, Will left with them.