He didn't notice at first when the brazier fell.

Will drew an arrow from the side quiver he had equipped, another one of Crowley's genius uniform changes. Why do I always have to be the guinea pig, Will had thought to himself, and why do I always have to get caught in life-threatening situations when Crowley gets his strokes of genius? Drawing the bow back, the young Ranger sighted on the opposing archer, and marked his amateurism. The boy didn't know how to hold the bow correctly, and was clutching the string between thumb and forefinger.

The boy didn't know what he was doing, or who he was up against. He had just been told 'shoot at that man' and did as he was told. Will moved the aim down, considering taking aim at the boy's legs—but Will couldn't bring himself to fire. It would still greatly injure the kid, as would any shot Will could make.

Waiting once more instead of firing, the boy whipped sweat from his dark brow, and snatched up another arrow, damaging the fletching as he did so. That arrow won't fly right, even if he aimed perfectly for my chest, Will knew. But he was behind a tree, and crouching underneath a bush while pressed against the far wall of the keep. The kid drew back as Will expected, and took a sloppy aim at the bust. He released, snatching at the string as he did so.

With all of the inaccuracies that the boy piled up, Will knew it wouldn't hit him. And it never did. It flew far above his head, striking sparks against the searing metal of the brazier above Will's head.

The brazier itself didn't alarm Will, so he didn't look up. It wasn't as if a single, misaimed arrow could damage a professionals welding enough to make it fall. So he didn't care how far off the arrow was, he didn't care that it had accidently hit a piece of poorly welded metal, and knocked off the brazier from its already precarious setting.

After the last arrow, the boy turned tail and ran, throwing the bow to the ground. Will narrowed his eyes, watching the boy sprint out the gate, and disappear from sight. What the hell?

Then he heard the chink. Not being able to place it, Will glanced around him, not seeing anything.

And then he remembered to look up.


It had been two days since the accident. He had tried to keep his hands and the part of his arm covered, but situations arose where he needed his fingers free. He didn't even have to move for his limbs to burn with pain, reliving when the brazier fell down from above, and slammed into Will. He had looked up just in time to see it, and rose his hands to block the might of the blow.

The brazier wasn't heavy. Just hot.

His hands burned where they had connected with a metal, and where it had banged against his forearms as well.

It had been two days since the accident. And he was just getting to a proper healer now.

Will walked into the courtyard of Castle Redmont, his hands conveniently and painfully shoved into his pockets. Making his way across, he hoped to avoid those he knew, and those in his family. But that wasn't exactly easy when his boyfriend had decided to make a surprise visit while he was away.

"Will!" Horace yelled across the courtyards from the stables. His smile was wide, happy to see his partner after being given the news that he wasn't supposed to be in Redmont all week.

Knowing Horace would make a fuss of his injuries, Will kept his hands shoved into his pockets. "Horace," he said, straining to force a natural smile. The fabric of his shirt rubbed up against his arms, irritating the burns even through the bandages.

Without saying more, Horace wrapped his arms around Will the moment he got close enough—and before Will could protest. Sweeping him into a bear hug, the knight started to say what had happened, why he was there and asking why Will hadn't been there when Horace had known his schedule to be clear.

"Horace," Will choked out, the pain suffocating him. When Horace didn't register his voice, Will roughly wrenched himself out of Horace's grasp, forcing himself not to gasp at the pain or crumple to the floor.

Stumbling back, Willl held himself, gripping each of his elbows to create pain in his hands, and to take his mind away from the pain in his arms.

"Is everything okay?" Horace asked, surprised at the greeting he had gotten. Normally, Will would accept the bear hug against his chagrin, but he would still suffer through it. This was the first time Will had forcibly take himself out of Horace's arms.

"No," Will snapped, the pain eating away at his patience. "No, it's not okay, Horace."

Taken aback, Horace flinched at the severity in his boyfriend's voice. And then that annoying voice in the back of his head spoke up: He hates you.

"Oh," the knight murmured, taking what the voice said for granted. "C—can I help? Is this something I can help with?"

Will breathed out through his mouth, trying to stifle the pain. It wasn't even occurring to him how hurtful his words could be. "Yes, actually. Leave me alone. For a good long while."

At that, Will turned his back to Horace, and walked away, saying nothing more. He had to get to the damn healer, before the pain got so bad he fainted.


Horace sullenly packed up Kicker's saddlebags, disappointed with his trip. He had been expecting Will to be surprised and happy to see him, but instead for the first few days he wasn't even here, and when he finally did get back . . . he dumped Horace.

Wincing at the sound of that, Horace decided that he would skip the plans to eat breakfast at Jenny's, and leave right away. Would he ever be able to return home to Redmont again, without thinking of Will? And what they had had?

Sighing, Horace finished up, and looked around him, seeing if he had forgotten anything. Instead, his eyes landed on the silhouette in the doorway to the stables.

Ranger cloak off and thrown over his shoulder, Will still looked miserable from the day he had returned. He was wearing a loose shirt, which was uncommon for him, because the cloth could get caught by a stray arrow or blade. And then Horace's eyes landed on his hands—covered and wrapped in soft cloth, some stained with a kind of ointment. The sleeve was hitched up on one of Will's arms, revealing that the bandages traveled all the way up to his elbows.

"Will," Horace said in greeting, determining that he wouldn't be rude to his ex-boyfriend.

"Horace," Will said, pausing. "Is everything alright between us?" he asked, unsure.

Frowning, the knight took his foot off of where it had landed on the stirrup. "Alright? I thought things were before I got here, but apparently not."

"What?" Will questioned, seemingly seriously confused.

"You broke up with me," Horace said bluntly, turning away. "I figured something had to have happened. So, no, things are not 'alright'."

Silence stretched between them, Will's eyes slowly getting narrower and narrower. "When did I do that?"