Samsara
Author: Oro
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: All the Will eps, I guess.
Disclaimer: Feh. The West Wing belongs to Aaron Sorkin, blah blah blah.
Notes: Samsara (in Buddhism): the process of coming into existence as a differentiated, mortal creature. And oh. Will gives me writers' block. This is for my LJ Fairy.
And then it is quiet; there is nothing left for him to say, and the silence doesn't keep the shouting from echoing through his mind; and his mouth is suddenly filled with the taste of sand, adrenaline, Sam: he stands in front of Will, and his words seem worthless to waste on such a saddened expression, because they both know it's not what he wanted in the first place. Neither of them did, but Sam made it happen and now it's blown up in their faces, quietly, with words scattered all around them like the uncomfortable feeling that strangles him whenever he walks into Sam's office and doesn't feel him there.
(Though he hasn't been feeling him anywhere at all, not since the first time Sam got back from California).
Sam's words are scattered all around them: you have a bad poker face. You are my best friend. You don't even realize how much you mean to me. This is what I want. You. When I thought you might be gone forever, I did some thinking. I love you, Josh. It's not what you think it is. I made them a promise. You know you don't want this anyway, right? I mean… it was a lost cause to begin with. Goodbye.
And this Will, whether he be William or Willard or Wilhelm, he fixes his glasses and lets out a sigh, as if to spite, to break this silence Josh is trying so hard to maintain, if only because that's how things are done; not that Will would know, being the new guy, everything Sam isn't and yet all that Sam was, this strange blend of a brilliant mind with the mild presence of a person who has no idea what he's doing.
"He said you were brilliant. Before, when we were still in... he said he couldn't give you what you wanted." The voice, hesitant despite his bold words, matches the way his eyes don't meet Josh's.
"What I wanted was a fuck, Will, is that what you want me to tell you?" The sand, the bitterness, spill from his lips onto his words like milk into the bowl in the Vermeer they once went to see together, before Sam decided he wasn't enough; before he began to wonder if he was ever enough for Sam.
"I know it's not my place to-" Will starts, and retreats. He's had Sam's old job way too long for this to be happening, but he allows it to because he knows he'll never be forgiven. He swallows Josh's words, on their bitterness and sand, like making love to Sam after a day on the beach, with their hot sweat that smelled like betrayal, and the feeling that he's been used.
"No, it's not your place, and it's none of your business. How, I mean, why was he even telling you…" the question finally occurs to Josh, and he looks at Will, who still is not looking at him. From the look Will's given the floor, and the silence, he knows and it stings him like a thousand needles, or more like a blunt enhancement of this anger he's had bowled up inside for what seems like centuries since his best friend left. "Oh." He says, quietly, because there's nothing left to say. He's already said too much, enough to verify Will's words, to broaden the man's knowledge of his personal life when he wanted nothing to do with him in the first place.
And then it is uncomfortable; back to silence as a default position.
FIN