Chapter Summary: An encounter in a bathroom stall goes awry. Yup.

Note: This chapter has been lightly edited for mature content. To read the original version, go to archiveofourown dot org slash works slash 692758 slash chapters slash 4469175.

**The Loose Ends Will Make Knots**

Chapter 11

The temperature drops again overnight.

The windows in your apartment have iced over. Through the white glare, everyone you see below on the street looks like walking piles of laundry. Thick scarves and jackets with feet.

You're already wearing your comforter as a blanket. Once the heater in your apartment officially putters out, you finally give up on pretense and crawl back into bed. It's one o'clock in the afternoon.

Miserable, you bundle in and press your face flat against the mattress, not bothering with a pillow. You washed all the linens right away, trying to get to rid of that musty, neglected smell your apartment adopted in your absence. Now, your sheets smell like fresh detergent. They're still uncomfortable but not enough to make you move.

Will left you messages on your voice mail. Beneath the blankets, where it's safe, his voice provides a comforting hum against your ear. Eyes closed, you allow yourself a moment to drift and let him take you backwards, back to warm hands, his breath against your ear, and that familiar feeling in your chest… until that gets uncomfortable, too.

You've gone as far as to dial his number. No further. The longer you go without calling him back, the weaker your excuses become.

You're not intentionally avoiding him.

You just haven't figured out what to say.

When you're not at work, you find yourself spending most of your time alone.

You've never wanted a television in your place before, but you buy one after the silence starts to get to you.

It's strange, because you were never the kind of person who minded being alone. You traveled the world on your own once and without a fleck of anxiety. You can recall entire days spent wandering jungles and scaling mountains without ever exchanging a word with another human soul. Those were some of the best times of your life.

But that must have been someone else wandering those jungles, because you bought a television and it's been a while since you showed your face at work. Or left the apartment.

There are people you could call, but then you would have to explain why you need them in the first place. You don't want to talk about it. Or think about it.

So, of course, that's all you do.

You go over and over it in your mind as you try to isolate the precise places where you messed up. It turns out it's easier to pick out the places where you didn't.

Wrong or right, somewhere along the way, you turned Brian into your crutch. Without him around to distract you from yourself, you actually have to face the empty apartment and the overall mess your life has become.

You haven't heard from Brian. That's… that's fair.

It's not as if he owes you an explanation. He obviously has his reasons for cutting you off. You don't blame him. He needs space from you, just as you need space from Will to figure things out.

(And, hey, if he figures it out, then that means you won't have to.)

You get it. It's just that— and it feels callous to even think it— but this is the first time he's ever been unavailable to you. You've never really let yourself dwell on it, but he was always quick to drop whatever he was doing whenever you wanted him.

(And, lately, you've wanted him.)

He's smart to stay away. Will should take a page from his book.

No, that isn't fair. Will leads with his heart. It's just one of the things that you love about him. But one of you has to be cautious here, because there have been bridges built and spectacularly burned between you. You didn't stop to think before when you probably should have, and now look at you. Look at all of you. The only one who seems to have thought any of this out in advance is Brian, and you really don't want to think any more about that either.

You won't go so far as to say that getting involved with Will was a mistake— it wasn't— but maybe if you had just waited, had given him more time... Maybe things would have turned out different. For everyone.

You didn't wait. You couldn't. You're waiting now. All you're doing is waiting, and now you feel mired in indecisions.

You don't want to miss Brian.

Is there even any room left to miss Brian when you're already so consumed with missing Will?

Everything just feels so heavy these days, as if the simplest thing takes twice the energy it should. When everything is so hard, the last thing you want to do is face the messes you've made all around you— something that would be difficult even under the best of circumstances.

It's such a tenuous thing on any given day, but you can feel your tether to being okay starting to fray.

For her, you make an effort.

"It's chilly out here!"

She doesn't hear your response the first time because she's leaning too far over the patio railing outside your bedroom. One of your neighbors is blasting generic electronica out their window.

Adrienne playfully shakes out her shaggy blond hair in the icy breeze, her teeth bright and smiling. Watching your mother makes you think of '60s Hollywood starlets. She's still lovely, but you imagine she must have truly dazzled when she was young.

"What was that, honey?"

"I said to come in from the cold."

You don't know why she's in such a euphoric mood. It's making you feel kind of better and kind of worse. Trying to keep your mood up for her is exhausting. You wish your father, with his serene disposition, were here as a buffer so you wouldn't have to take the full brunt of it alone.

"Then I couldn't spy on your neighbor across the way there. I think she's having an affair with the married guy two windows down."

Cross-legged on your bed, you hug your pillow to your chest. "You're being nosy again. Have you never seen Rear Window?"

"I've always loved Grace Kelly," she says wistfully. "I used to have a dress that looked like the one she wore in that movie. Do you remember?"

You indulge her even though you don't. "Of course."

She performs a little twirl, holding out the edges of her dress, as you both imagine it as a different one. You could be five again and watching her get ready for a fancy party. Begging to stave off bedtime because you know it means she'll leave.

Exhausting as she can be, you love her. Always have regardless of what was happening between her and your father.

(Or you and Will.)

"I didn't have a lot of opportunities to wear it in Texas," she says wryly.

"I guess not."

You share an understanding smile.

The life you led in Texas feels like it happened to someone else. It was one of the rare times when your day-to-day life didn't involve mansions or mountains or titans of industry.

Instead, there was football and dirt on your knees and hot summers spent outside with your brothers. What might have been normal for other people was just the Kiriakis clan playing dress up with other people's lives, as if your parents were trying to recreate what they thought normal people did.

Still. It was nice. For a while.

You realize now that your family's time in Texas was your father's version of Africa. A shot in the dark at a chance for a new beginning. You can understand that much even if the choice of Texas still baffles you.

Her smile softens as she looks at you. "Do you remember when we used to people-watch at that mall? All those characters we saw?"

"Sure, Mom."

"I miss that," she says.

You lost your taste for people-watching when you became the subject for other people's people-watching. Though, that's been happening less and less lately. Your melodrama with Will became old news once Brady Black scandalized Salem by falling in love with his father's former lover and his stepmother's former kidnapper. Good old Salem. Always another scandal on the horizon.

You smile weakly at her. It's clearly the wrong thing to do because her face falls. You feel bad, but you have been trying. It's just that the longer this visit goes, the more your efforts start to wane.

She sits beside you. "Honey, where have you been?"

You frown down at your pillow, clutched tight in your arms. "What do you mean? I've been right here."

She bites her lip and then tentatively says, "You know, you can tell me if you're back together with Will."

That… wasn't what you were expecting.

"What? Mom, I'm not. We're not."

She looks almost comically relieved. "Oh. Good. I mean—"

"It's fine, Mom," you say tiredly. You know how she felt about you and Will. The whole town knew how she felt about that.

"I only meant that you could tell me. If you were, I mean. I heard…"

"What did you hear?"

"That you were there for him at the hospital."

Even in the midst of personal crisis, people still find the time to gossip. You sigh. "I was there as a friend."

"Okay."

She continues staring at you as if you might crack and offer up the truth if she just waits long enough. But then she abruptly changes tracts on you.

"Alex asked me for your address."

She says it like a tease. As if this news should excite you.

What you actually feel is perplexed. Alex has been a semi-taboo subject between you for a long time. "Why?"

Eyes shining with suppressed pleasure, she shrugs like a little girl smugly holding onto a secret. Since she's your mother, you can safely assume it's not for a malicious reason. You just can't imagine why.

Suspicious, you ask, "Did Alex tell you we talked?"

Her face lights up. "You did? When?"

She seems sincerely surprised, and you're ridiculously relieved Alex didn't tell your mother about your sad, weepy drunk calls in the middle of the night. You should have assumed she didn't know, because there's no way she would have stayed away this long if she had. That kind of thing would have been one of those red flags she's always looking out for.

"I really feel as if he's coming around."

You remember the tense silence on the phone when you accidentally told him there was another man in bed with you. "Maybe."

"Yeah," she says happily. "Maybe."

It sounds completely different when she says it.

You do eventually have to show your face at work. It is your business after all, as Chad cheerfully reminds you.

It's his business, too, which is why you're only amused when, on the patio behind Common Grounds, he passes you the joint.

Coughing slightly, he leans back against the stacked boxes and gives you a benign smile. Between the boxes and the overgrown foliage that's managed to creep over the side of the surrounding brick wall, there's only just barley room enough for the two of you on patio. His long legs stretch out beside yours.

Your senses are already full of coffee grounds and potted plumeria. The heat lamps on either side of you only seem to magnify these smells. You pass the joint back with a grimace. "No thanks."

You weren't planning on coming into work today, but the fact that Chad actually took the time to call and ask if you were was enough of a hint that you've been taking too much time off lately and for no legitimate reason.

Chad shrugs and takes another drag. "Suit yourself. Just thought you could use a break."

"This is a break."

"Not that kind of break. I meant, like, a break from yourself. Know what I mean?"

God help you, but you do know what he means.

You barely made it through the lunch rush before Chad was pulling you outside. Your exhaustion was obvious. You were mixing up orders left and right, so you went without a fight.

He eyes you critically. "You look a mess, bro."

"Thanks, man."

"I just meant—"

"No, I know. I just… I guess I feel a mess." You can admit that much.

"Abigail is worried about you."

You raise an eyebrow at that. "She told you she was worried about me?" Last you heard, Abigail had cut Chad off for sabotaging Gabi's wedding and subsequently torpedoing your relationship with Will. Times change.

Probably sensing what you're thinking, Chad looks vaguely uncomfortable. "Yeah. I think she's finally coming around."

"Oh. Well, that's good."

"You would be cool with it if she gave me another chance?"

He looks so earnest, as if your opinion would really make a difference. You shrug. "Why not?" You want Abigail to be happy. Chad seemed to make her happy once. Why not again?

"You know, I'm really sor—"

"It's fine. Really." You never blamed him for what happened. If he had never spoken up, then you might have never found out the truth about Gabi's baby. Of course, he could have chosen a better moment to drop that particular truth bomb, but that's neither here nor there now.

He seems relieved. "Okay."

"You can tell Abigail she doesn't have to worry. I'm fine." You shake your leg out to keep it from going to sleep. Someone should really unpack these boxes before they either freeze from the weather or melt from the lamps, but it's not going to be you today.

"Yeah, but are you?"

"I am," you insist. You would have firmer legs to stand on right now if Chad hadn't just had to rescue you from the benign elderly that make up the lunch crowd.

He makes a skeptical sound around his joint. "You still seeing that Brian guy?"

You're not the one smoking, but you choke as if you were. "You knew about…?"

He rolls his eyes. "It's not like I'm blind. It's been like an episode of Dynasty up in here."

"Sorry," you say, chagrined. "I wasn't really trying to hide it. It's just—"

"You just wanted some privacy to deal with your stuff. I get it."

You're almost pathetically grateful. "Thanks, man."

"Will was here."

It's your turn to eye him. Chad just looks… like Chad. Present but not particularly concerned. "When?"

"This morning. He was looking for you. I didn't say, but I figured you were at Brian's. Were you?" He doesn't sound as if he's judging you.

"No. I wasn't."

"Because of Will?"

You shake your head.

"But you're still with Brian?"

"No."

"Okay… so you're not with Brian. And you're not with Will."

You shake out your leg again, staring hard at your shoe. "That's right. It's just me. By myself."

He gives you a keen look. "But Will is looking for you, and you're avoiding him and you're avoiding Brian."

"I never said…"

"Abigail said it was complicated. I thought she was exaggerating. Things are 'complicated' with Will, and Brian is a good-looking guy with a major Sonny-fixation. Doesn't seem that complicated to me."

Baffled by his impromptu insight, you're left staring blankly at him. After a moment, you hold out your hand. "Give it to me."

Chad hands the joint over with a laugh. "Aw. Poor Sonny."

You snort. "Yeah, poor me."

"Everyone wants a piece, huh?"

"Stop."

He snickers. "Your milkshake brings all the boys to the yard…"

"Stop."

"Okay, okay." Dropping the teasing, he leans forward with an earnest air. "But I wasn't kidding about your needing a break. Come out with me tonight."

Your first thought is to say no. Going out tonight is the last thing you want to do. "I don't think—"

"Come on, Sonny. We need some boys' time. When was the last time before today when we had a conversation that wasn't about this place?"

Fair point. You can't remember the last time. "Well…"

"You know you want to."

You really, really don't, but…

"Don't make me bat my lashes at you."

He makes an exaggerated 'come hither' face that makes you grimace. "Please don't."

"I'll make you a deal. I'll cover the rest of your shift here. You go home, take a nap, shower, and then meet me later in the square." He gives your leg a companionable nudge. "What do you say?"

It's obvious Chad wants to help. It just so happens that he's caught you in a mood where you're tired of being other people's problem. And so, with a sigh, you decide to let him.

"All right."

You take Chad's advice and go home.

It turns out he was right. A long shower and an even longer nap really do you a world of good.

You're still not crazy about going out when you feel like this, but Chad means well and a strong drink and loud music should keep the conversation down to a minimum. It's not as if you have to stay out all night.

You used to like staying out all night. When did you get so tired?

Later, you find yourself sitting in Horton Town Square, waiting for Chad. You're scanning the crowd for him when you spot a familiar face approaching.

You don't mean to make a sour face, but you do, and he laughs to see it.

The low lamplight has him half in shadow and looking nearly sinister, particularly when he grins. "Sup, Sonny?"

"Hello, T," you say warily.

"You're looking suspiciously dapper," he says.

"I... don't know what that means."

"It means 'dressed up.' Geez. You really don't bother going to class anymore, do you?"

You try breathing through your nose to keep calm. "I know what 'dapper' means, you— no, you know what? Never mind."

"Are you meeting someone? Please tell me you're not just sitting here alone like a total freak."

"Wow. I am so glad I ran into you."

Your sarcasm just seems to fuel him. "I live to please."

"Right."

"Seriously. Who are you meeting? It's not that Brian guy, is it?"

"Not that it would be any of your business if it were." You could tell him you're waiting for Chad, but then T might want to hang around longer to see him.

"What? I can't look out for you?" He continues over your incredulous look. "That guy is a total tool. You should have seen what he did at that party—"

"T!" you snap.

"What?"

"You're busy. Don't let me keep you from, you know, whatever."

He smirks at you. "Naw. I'll just wait. I have a feeling we're going to the same place."

"I doubt that."

"Dude. There's only one gay bar in this town. You're going to the Spot. Right?"

You're staring. You know you are. "Are you?"

T shrugs. "Guess so."

You're too flabbergasted to speak anyway, so it's good timing when Chad's text arrives.

"Sorry. Abigail's here. Running late. Meet you inside?"

Abigail, huh? You could be waiting a long time. You might as well get a drink while you're waiting.

Standing, you say, "Does Audrey know you spend your nights trolling gay bars?"

"Ha ha. You're hilarious."

"Why are you going to the Spot then?"

"Meeting a friend," he says vaguely.

You raise an eyebrow at that. "Really."

"Yeah, but he's running late, so I guess I'll just go in with you."

Your shoulders slump. "That's… just great, T."

This feels like a game of chicken. You watch the doorman stamp his hand and wait for him to admit it's all a joke. But he follows you inside and surveys the bar with a distinct sneer on his face. "Oh. My. God. What is this place?"

"Your homophobic nightmare," you say, feeling vindictive. "You know, I hear there are actual straight bars around…"

"Aw. Sonny is funny today. How cute."

He puts his hands on your shoulders and starts herding you through the crowd towards the bar like his own personal bulldozer. You let him push you through, smiling apologetically at the people you accidentally bump into.

You recognize a lot of people in the crowd. Guys from the university and… the crew team? Just as you're thinking it, you bump into someone. "Sorry!"

"Sonny?"

Startled, you look up into familiar blue eyes and feel your heart sink. "Hey, Brian." You say it quietly even though he probably can't hear you over the bar noise.

He looks just as shaken to see you here. You're staring at each other, frozen in this awkward situation, until T reminds you of his presence at your back.

"Hey, Brian," he says, mocking your tone.

Brian looks between you, frowning, before re-focusing in on you. "Did Neil invite you?"

"To what?"

"It's my birthday," Neil explains with a tight smile. To your chagrin, you didn't even notice him standing there beside Brian until he spoke.

"Oh. Well, happy birthday, Neil." That explains all the familiar faces in the crowd.

He accepts your salutation with another tight smile.

Just when the awkwardness threatens to swallow you all whole, Brian's crewmate, Jimmy, materializes from the crowd and grips your shoulder in a friendly way. "Sonny, you came! Come have a drink with us!"

"Um." You send an uncertain look at Brian, but he's pretending to be distracted by something across the bar.

"You heard the man," T says, and he starts shoving you forward again after Jimmy.

Even over the music and the chatter, you just barely hear Neil mutter under his breath, "Well, happy birthday to me."

Along the way, you've gotten the impression that Neil has thoughts about you and Brian.

Or maybe just about you. Thoughts that Brian is likely privy to, and you aren't. The few times Neil was around, he and Brian spent the whole time having silent conversations between themselves over your head. That got old fast.

He's not making it any easier on you now.

Still, you offer him a peace offering. Neil eyes you skeptically as you hand him the beer. He's not exactly quick to take it from you.

"You like Shocktop, right?" You chose the last drink you can remember him ordering, though he's making you doubt the memory now.

He shrugs and goes back to watching the dancers out on the floor. "Sure, I guess."

You sense the dismissal, but you say, "Sorry to crash your party."

No one else seems to realize that you weren't invited tonight. Brian's friends act as if it's perfectly normal that you're here. Jimmy even engaged you for a while in a conversation about your business. You smiled politely and answered his questions as well as you can. All the while, Brian hung back and watched you with an inscrutable expression. You can't tell if he's upset that you're here and just playing it cool or if he's genuinely unmoved.

Neil glances briefly at you before finally taking a swig of your beer. "Yeah, well. I kinda figured we'd be seeing you here tonight."

"Why do you say that?"

"Let's call it intuition."

You know this hostility has to do with Brian, whom Neil obviously feels more loyalty toward than you, understandably. It would be completely childish to demand your beer back. You still kind of want to.

You have several other benign conversations. Brian keeps his distance. T sticks to your side like an annoying rash. He only manages to behave himself for all of five minutes before saying, loudly, "Geez, what are those guys doing over there? Oh, gross. They're in public! No one wants to see that!"

For a split second, you hope against hope that, in turning, you'll see anything other than two men innocently kissing against a wall. Of course, everyone else turns to see…

Two men innocently kissing against a wall. Damn it, T.

You want to sink directly into the floor when Brian and Neil turn as one to glare incredulously at you, as if you were the one who said it. You can only shrug helplessly. You didn't exactly invite T along so much as T just kind of… came. With you. For some reason.

Before you can head him off, Neil, whose patience apparently has a shorter fuse than yours, says, "If this is so horrible for you, then why did you even come here?"

"Not for your fine company, Nancy, that's for sure."

You groan into your hands. "I swear he's better than he used to be." No one seems to hear you.

Forget T. You're starting to wonder what you're doing here. Chad is a no-show. Brian won't even talk to you— not that you've tried talking to him. Things between you and Neil are tense even on a good day.

How in the hell T fits into this mix is beyond you.

"Really," Neil says, "it wouldn't hurt our feelings if you, you know, left." T might as well have ripped Neil's civility off like an old band aid.

T seems completely unperturbed by the hostility being directed his way. "Sucks for you, because I came for my boy Will. He needed a wing-man."

Neil's eyebrows go up. Brian's expression darkens just as your stomach drops for the second time in less than an hour. Will is coming?

"You're friends with Will?" Neil looks at you for confirmation, as if hoping T was lying.

"Best friends."

"Will has questionable taste in friends," Brian says. It could be your imagination, but he seems relieved to have an excuse to ditch the polite pretense. You aren't relieved.

In fact, there's a hurricane of anxiety currently building up in your chest. You unconsciously take a step back from them all only to be stopped by T's hand on your shoulder.

"Ha ha," he says dryly. "Seriously, Sonny? This is the guy you dumped Will for? Talk about a down-grade, man."

There's an ache starting behind your temples. You can't look any of them in the eye. "Shut up, T."

Neil looks at all of you in turn, lingering overlong on Brian's scowling expression, and then he sighs. With a resigned air, he addresses T. "You're waiting for Will?"

"That's right."

"So you're not leaving?"

"Nope."

He nods. "In that case, I could use a strong drink. Come on, Terrible. You can help carry."

T gives Neil a suspicious look. "Okay, I guess. Just keep your hands where I can see them."

"Oh, no worries there."

"And you're paying."

As they leave, Neil sends Brian a look over his shoulder that clearly says, "You owe me big time."

And then you're left alone with Brian. Somehow, everyone else chose the same moment to split off.

Shifting your weight from foot to foot, you wait for him to decide how he wants to play this. You think he'll make some excuse and leave you alone on the edge of the dance floor. Part of you wishes he would, so you could finally slink off with your tail between your legs. He doesn't though.

Instead, looking so very tired, he reaches out for you.

It's so incongruous to what you're expecting that you actually jump at his touch. He smiles briefly, ruefully.

Embarrassed, you drop your gaze to where his fingers rest on the pocket on your shirt. He lightly grips the fabric as if to pull you closer.

You touch his hand, and he stills. Summoning up your courage, you finally meet his gaze head-on. The cool façade is gone, and he's letting you see what's been brewing beneath. It's the same expression he had when he was saying, "We're good together, aren't we?" Open. Vulnerable. He seems unsure, as if he wants to close the distance between you but he's waiting for a sign that he's welcome.

You open your mouth to say… to tell him…

And then someone clears their throat.

You've never seen Will look so uncomfortable, but he stands his ground. "Hi, Sonny," he says softly.

You swallow down the lump in your throat so you can say, "Hi, Will." You quickly extract yourself from Brian, stepping back and not meeting his eyes.

"Hi," Brian says shortly.

Will just glares at him.

Neil and T rejoin you with the drinks.

Neil seems genuinely happy to see Will. It's night-and-day from his reaction to seeing you. "Hey, Will!"

Will's eyes quickly flit away. "Oh. Um. Hey."

T looks between all of you with raised eyebrows. "Dude. Awkward."

"I thought we were meeting outside," Will says to T.

"Something came up," T says, eyeing you.

Neil is suddenly the most chipper guy in the room. "I'm glad you could make it."

Neil invited Will. He didn't say before, but it's obvious now. What you feel then for Neil comes very close to outright loathing. Brian looks downright betrayed.

"I wasn't going to," Will admits.

"I talked him into it," T says.

He did? Why does every encounter with T leave you feeling as if you're the only one missing vital information that everyone else already knows?

Neil accepts Will's ambivalence with good grace. "Well, I'm glad he did." He takes Will's hand and tugs him toward the dance floor. "You have to dance with the birthday boy. It's a rule."

Will spares you a nervous glance as he's pulled away.

You take T by the arm. "Can I talk to you?"

You don't really give T a choice, hauling him away from Brian. Once you're far enough away, you demand, "Why would you bring Will here?"

"Whoa. First, Will can go wherever he wants. Second, never touch my jacket again. It's worth more than your café makes in a week."

"T…"

"I thought he could use a night out. Get back into the scene. He's wasting his time waiting for you." He smirks at you in that special way of his that makes you want to hit him. "Isn't he?"

"T, what are you doing here? Really?"

T sighs and rubs his head. "Maybe I owe him."

"Maybe you owe me."

You regard each other with grim expressions, both remembering the feeling of his fist colliding with your face.

"Yeah, well," he says, "maybe both debts are one and the same tonight. Now, if you'll excuse me, there's a free drink with my name on it."

You watch him walk away from you and feel absolutely no compulsion to follow him back into that awkward mess.

Instead, you head for the bathroom.

On your way in, you're nearly knocked over by two giggling men as they stumble out. They're clearly having a better time than you are. The bathroom is small, with low lighting and only three cramped stalls. The water from the faucet feels lukewarm when you splash some on your face.

You take your time before finally looking up into your own reflection. God, you look tired. What are you even doing here?

No. Really. What are you doing here? What the hell happened to Chad?

Just as you're wondering how long you can hide in the bathroom before it becomes obvious that's what you're doing…

Will slips through the door.

The breath leaves you in a slow exhale as your eyes meet in the mirror. The music from the bar was already muted by the thick walls, and it fades further as the walls start closing in on you.

"Hi," you say.

He leans back against the door. "Hi."

After that, the silence hovers, heavy and loaded, over your heads. Your mouth has gone dry. You lick your lips nervously. Will's eyes follow the movement, and your heart starts to pound in your ears.

Reluctant, you give up the mirror-Will to face the real thing. You take each other in, and it's too much. You didn't notice before, but he's wearing that shirt you love. Not the plaid one, but the nice blue dress shirt that brings out his eyes. He's fresh-shaven, and his hair has been combed and gelled.

And the idea that he did all this so he could come here with a wing-man to pick up someone else…

… it's unbearable.

"I should go," you say.

You don't. And not just because Will is blocking the door. You had your chance to leave, and you ran for the bathroom instead of the door.

His expression is bleak as he approaches you. Your instinctive reaction is to retreat. There's nowhere to go with only about four feet between you in either direction. Your back presses hard against the sink.

"I am trying really hard to understand here, Sonny. I am."

You can see that. It's obvious he's reigning in his anger, and you don't blame him. You feel like a guilty kid caught with cookie crumbs all over his mouth. Who me?

"Just tell me why."

"Why?" you echo weakly.

"Why are you here with Brian?"

Such a simple question and with no simple answer. At least, not one Will wants to hear or one you want to say. You suppose there's no point in trying to explain that you didn't exactly come here with Brian, that this is all a terrible coincidence. Even if you did, then you would still have to explain why you stayed.

"Are you still with him? Is he why you disappeared again? Even after what I told you? Didn't you believe me?"

Your collar feels too tight. You tug at it anxiously, looking anywhere but at Will. "Of course I believe you."

"Then… you just don't care?"

You're pleading, for yourself and for him, when you say, "Will, please don't do this."

You were— are— angry with Brian on Will's behalf, but there's nothing you can throw at Brian that he can't throw right back in your face. He was only able to taunt Will in the first place because you gave him the ammunition. You're hardly innocent in this.

The truth is that Brian has been good to you, and you've given so little back. You only slept with him in the first place because you were angry with Will. And then things got complicated and confused, and now you don't know what you feel. Will doesn't want to hear that either.

"This isn't fair, Sonny."

"I know. I know—"

"We weren't even really broken up yet. You waited a minute. How do you think that makes me feel?"

You know exactly how that made him feel because you felt the wound as if it were on your own body. And you knew this conversation was going to happen eventually, knew it as soon as Will recognized Brian's sweatshirt on you, but that doesn't mean you're ready for this.

"I am so sorry he told you. He had no right." God, you sound insincere even to yourself. You're sorry you got caught, but not for doing it?"

Will's mouth twists. "You're right. He had no right. But he did. And let me tell you, Sonny, he enjoyed it. He really did."

Ashamed, you drop your gaze to the floor. What can you say? You can't defend Brian, not to Will or anyone. You still don't understand what Brian was thinking, but it was undeniably wrong no matter how he could spin it. (Not that he bothered to spin it for you.)

Will steps closer, and the room shrinks further. "He didn't have to tell me. I already knew."

"I know." Because he saw you wearing that damned sweatshirt. "But Brian didn't know you knew. He threw it in your face, and that wasn't right."

"Brian knew," he says bluntly.

"What?"

"I'm telling you that I already knew even before you ran into me that day. And Brian knew I knew. I saw you, and he saw me. That's why he sought me out to rub it in. I'm not surprised he didn't bother telling you about that. Maybe he thought it was better if I was just out of sight, out of mind..."

Will is still speaking. Unfortunately, it's all gibberish to you, because you're still stuck on one very specific thing he said.

"What did you see?"

There are a thousand different incriminating scenarios flashing through your mind all at once. Now, you really want to run. But you have to know.

Will looks away, clearly embarrassed. "I went to see you at Common Grounds. I wanted… I guess it doesn't matter what I wanted. I was there, and I saw... I saw you kissing him." He looks so unhappy.

Oh. Well, shit.

"Do you love him?"

You're shaking your head, your mind incapable of even going there with Will two feet away from you.

Will sucks in a breath and takes a step closer. "Do you love me?"

He's too close, and you're paralyzed. "You know I do."

"Then why haven't you ever kissed me like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like with… Brian."

Will wants you to kiss him like you kiss Brian? Fine.

Fine.

It happens very quickly. Will makes a surprised noise when you grab him by the collar and pull him into the nearest stall, slamming the door shut behind you. There isn't enough room in the cramped stall for two people, but you're pressed so tightly against Will that it doesn't matter.

There's an ease to it, the steps familiar in this dance.

But it's been too long, and you're grabbing and breaking and Will is the only thing holding you together. When you kiss him, you fucking kiss him, pressing in hard and bruising his mouth over and over with yours, taking everything, until Will finally catches up. With a hoarse cry against your mouth, his arms wrap tightly around your neck.

It's not enough. Even with him wound around you, it's still not close enough. And so you tug Will's leg up over your hip so you can pull him in tighter against you. His foot slams up against the opposite stall with a loud bang. You barely hear it.

Will's gasp is thick and wet, a decadent sound that goes straight through you. You trail your mouth over his face, briefly catching his lips in a wet smack and then releasing them to travel lower to his neck. His hands tug at your shirt, seeking contact with skin, but your frantic movements cause his fingers to slip sloppily over the buttons. He only successfully undoes two or three.

If you were in your right mind, then you would probably break away long enough that you both could get a handle on simple things like buttons and zippers. But your mind is gone, burned out of your skull because this, this here between you, is so bright and hot, and it feels as if you're directly embracing the sun. Even though it hurts, you can't let go. You're bound. In the moment, you think this was always going to happen. Even when you said, "No," that night in Will's dorm room, somewhere deep, down inside you must have known it was only no for now.

He grips your ass and pulls you in even tighter against him as if he can't get enough of you either. Your moan is buried in his neck until he pulls you up into another kiss. He kisses you like a man whose been starving for exactly this. You understand perfectly. Still, it isn't close enough, so you clutch his face in your hands.

Even though you're bound, with Will here in your arms, the ties don't feel suffocating. They feel like a blessing. As if you're just a missing piece of him, and you've finally come home to join the whole. You love him so freaking much. It's as if your heart is outside of your chest and he's holding it in his hand.

He's startled when you suddenly pull back to stare into his wide, dilated eyes. You only make him wait a brief second before you growl, "Turn around." Barely hesitating, he complies.

You want to be touching every part of him. Pressed up against his back, you push his hands up until he grips the top of the stall. He obediently leaves his arms up, giving up control, and you take the opportunity to run your hands down his arms and sides, and then back up under his shirt and over his chest and stomach. So much warm, perfect skin and all for twitches and gasps under your touch.

It has been too long. For both of you.

Drunk on power, you suck the back of his neck, hard, until he shivers and groans something obscene into the crook of his arm.

Your mind spins at all of the things you want to do to him. You don't realize you're saying these things aloud, right against his ear, until Will moans, "Oh, God, Sonny. Yes. Please." He's so honest in his pleasure. He always has been.

But, to your own surprise, the wanton moans suddenly make you angry.

You never wanted it to be like this with him. It was never just sex with you and Will. It was always gentle caresses, and a slow but intense boil up to the finish. You took your time and savored every bit of him. You also held yourself in check for Will's sake.

Now, the hungry way he's rubbing himself back against you makes you wonder if this is how he's wanted you to be all along. You've never seen him like this before, so desperate for you. He arches into you like a hypersensitive cat.

The horrible thought strikes you that maybe you've been boring him in bed all this time, but he was too nice to say. It's hard not to think of the time you saw him kissing Neil…

For the record, he's never kissed you like that either. But you thought it was only because he was drunk and upset when he kissed Neil. You wanted to be his safe place. There's nothing safe about this. He's taken that away and left you with just the sensation of falling and falling without the promise of a soft place to land. Damn it, you guys were supposed to be better than this.

You were. You… are.

And you know Will is in your head. Because, even as you think it, he grips your wrist as you are dipping your hand down the front of his pants and says, breathless, "Sonny, wait. We can't. Not like this."

He's right. You can't.

God.

Just like that, a psychic weight falls down upon you, and you're slumping against him, breathing hard against his neck. You have to get a hold of yourself, but it's a harsh comedown. Your hands don't want to unclench from where you're gripping his shirt. In a way, it's like suddenly slamming the breaks when you were just going 90 down the highway. Your body and your brain need a moment to realign. Once they do, you're filled with sorrow.

"I'm sorry." You rest your forehead on his shoulder. "I am so sorry, Will."

His voice is thick. "I know. Me, too. This isn't us, is it?"

"No. It isn't. You don't want me like this. I don't want us like this. You deserve better." He deserves to be made love to in a soft bed, not randomly fucked in a disgusting bathroom stall.

He turns in your arms. When you lift your head, he cups your face in his hands. "Why don't you let me decide what I deserve?"

Your eyes fall closed as your foreheads come together. He's holding you up, and in more ways than one. "I'm really messed up right now, Will." The admission cracks your voice.

"I know." His hands soothe through your hair. You think you could almost breathe again like this.

"But you still...?"

"Yes," he says. No hesitation, just certainty.

It's what you want to hear. So, why does hearing it make you want to cry?

"Listen to me, Sonny. There are only two or three things I know for sure in this life, and one of them is that it's supposed to be you and me. Always you and me."

It's so romantic and perfect but in the completely wrong place and time. The conviction in his voice makes you feel even more disoriented than you already were. "Even now? Even after I...?"

"Yes. Don't get me wrong. I'm really mad at you right now, and I don't understand this thing with Brian. I don't want to. But I can forgive you. I do forgive you. I just need you to forgive me. Can you?"

Can you?

"I miss you," you admit.

"Then let me come home."

He makes it sound so easy. It surprises you that he still thinks of your apartment as home. Unless… Oh. He means you. You're home.

"I'm not ready."

You're just not. Not for anyone. Not yet.

But you let him hold you so you can burrow yourself into his arms and hold on for dear life.

"I can wait," he says.

"Really?"

"You waited a year for me. I can wait for you."

You try to make light of it. "What, a year?" It's a weak joke.

Will just smiles.

It's clear now what you have to do.

That you'll have to give one of them up. You should give up both. You think that would be the best thing for everyone. You see it, and you know.

It's just that… you're weak. You're lonely and you're broken, and you don't want to face it alone. You don't know how to fix your own messes. Sometimes you do, but right now you don't.

You don't know how else you can give up Will. You broke up, and you're still not broken up.

You got entangled with Brian, and now he wants everything from you. He wants to be with you. You're betraying him right now. You're also being unfaithful to Will. Neither of them have you, and yet they both do. They both think they want you as you are, but they don't. How could they?

How do you get back to who you were before? Do they even know who that person is? Do you?

You can't hold onto anything, and you can't walk away either. You're stuck.

The only thing you know for sure in this moment is that you want to go home, wherever that is. You want to go home, and not to your own because your apartment doesn't feel like home.

It hits you then that you want to be back in Brian's apartment, tucked away in his bed with him as a warm presence at your back. The desire makes no sense in light of everything else that's happened tonight. It just is what it is. That arrangement happened so easily when everything else felt so hard. You just want a safe place to land.

It won't be that simple. Brian is upset with you. You don't want to get into it with him again, but it almost feels worth it if he'll let you go back with him tonight. Just to sleep. And then maybe in the morning, you could…

You could fix things with a clearer head.

But you can't find him. After looking and looking, you finally find Neil, who reluctantly tells you that Brian has already left.

It's probably for the best anyway, even if you leave disappointed.

In the end, you go home alone to your own apartment where everything is quiet and still and you hate it for not being what you thought it was going to be when you first moved in.

Notes:

1. It probably goes without saying at this point, but I'm working with the characterization T had back in the beginning of the WilSon saga, when he was less than the ideal advocate he's become as of late on the show. For the record, I loved him both ways.

2. Fun fact! "WilSon in the bathroom stall" was the first scene I ever wrote for this fic. Eleven chapters later, and here it is!

3. I couldn't include the song in the Official Knots Playlist because I didn't want to spoil that this scene was coming, but "the Great Shipwreck of Life" by IAMX provided the original inspiration for this scene and, by extension, this whole story. IAMX will always be my WilSon band. Youtube it!