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Grace's POV
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Will has been the beacon of strength for me since college. He knows me intimately, but not so, um, intimately. I knew he was gay before he knew he was gay. The time I first met him was a really rocky time, full of broken hearts and suicidal gestures. He scared the hell out of me the day he tried to kill himself. I remember it, like a fresh cut that still throbs heat.
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"Gracie, I just can't take it anymore. I know how I feel, but I just can't take it. It's too hard for me to..."
"Will, it's OK to not know anything. I'm here to help you, if only you'll lean on me," I told him as I held him in my arms.
"I just can't unload all of my crap on you," he said.
"Why not? I've unloaded a huge bunch of my crap on you," I pointed out.
"I don't want to hurt you."
"Will, sweetie, when you hurt, I hurt. I love you," I said.
He sighed heavily. "I'm gay, and I'm in love with Jack," he said.
"I know," I said. He sat up and turned to face me.
"How?"
"I've known since the day I met you. Of course, my dog knew you were gay, but when you first introduced Jack to me, I saw this light of, well, something in your eyes. Love, maybe? Admiration? Both of those and more."
He cried into my shoulder all night, and some of the next day before he decided to go home. When he left, he was, I don't know, eerily peaceful. It triggered alarm bells, but I just ignored them. I fell asleep, but 30 minutes later, I was up, in a panic.
"Will!" I gasped out in my sleep. He was in trouble.
I went to his dorm, and sure enough, I found him in bed, with prescription pill bottles and pill scattered about. He was barely breathing, and his pulse was weak. I ran to the RA for him to call 911, and then I ran back to be with Will. He stirred once.
"Grace," he said in an impossibly small voice.
"Will, baby, I'm here. Don't give up on me!" I prayed out loud.
"Sorry..." he said as he went unconscious again.
"Dammit, Will, don't you dare give up!" I screamed at him.
All of the anger, fear, and helplessness added up into a volatile formula. I snapped, and I slapped him. I began hitting and slapping him until hands grabbed my arms and dragged me away from his bed. It was Jack. I collapsed against him and began to sob against his chest. "It's.... my.... fault..." I sobbed.
"No, honey, Grace. It's not," Jack assured me.
I didn't believe him until Will assured me himself. Since then, I've been careful about Will's emotional state. Sure, I joke around with him, and I insult him, but within the established boundaries of our relationship.
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I knew he was still in love with Jack, and I had a good suspicion that Jack felt the same way. That's why I encouraged Will to fess up to Jack. I thought it would go well, but when I heard Jack run down the hallway, I remembered why I shouldn't think. I didn't know whom to go to first, so I flipped a coin, and went to Jack. I knew he would be at the bottom of the stairs.
"Hey Jack. What happened?" I asked his huddling form.
"Will l-l, he loves me? Or is he trying to hurt me?" Jack asked.
"No, honey. He loves you. He's not trying to make fun of you or hurt you."
"Bu-but, why? How could he love me?" Jack asked, trying to make sense of the whole thing. "When did I become worthy to love?" he whispered quietly.
"You've always been worthy to love," I said. Jack began to cry quietly when I said that.
"No, I haven't," he insisted.
