*A/N* I've recently rediscovered my Youtube addiction and if any of you guys knows Phil Lester, you will probably see where I went with Willas (though I did only use some traits, I think it's kinda weirdly obvious...? Let me know!).
Do I need a disclaimer for that? Well, if I do, I am against slavery and therefore do not own any human being, least of all that ray of sunshine.

-PART FOUR-

"It was one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it, that you may come across four or five times in life. […] It understood you just so far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself and assured you that it had precisely the impression of you that, at your best, you hoped to convey."

SANSA

[a week to the election]

.

Willas's flatmate had moved out a few months back, and at his bidding and because she didn't really have anywhere else left to go, she stayed in his room. Willas kept telling her he didn't need it and that she could do what she wanted with it to make it feel a little more lived-in, but she didn't have the energy for it, and anyway she didn't want to. If she made herself at home, that would mean she would stay, and as much as she loved Willas – she didn't think she could bear that.

Willas Tyrell was probably the nicest guy she'd ever met in her life. His covering every window sill in pot plants that he religiously took care of appeared to be the only downside of living with him; he cooked for her even though he was terrible at it, made silly jokes to try and make her laugh and constantly made an effort to be cheerful and smiling around her so he wouldn't weigh her down any further. With the amount of effort he made, one would believe he had invaded her life and her flat, and not vice versa. It had taken Sansa over four hours to convince him to share the rent with her.

Whenever he left before she did, there was a post-it sticking to the fridge or the door, usually telling her when he'd be back and that there was still coffee left for her, or a slice of cake in the fridge.

She knew he was trying to make her feel better, but all it ever did was make her feel utterly terrible.

Willas expected nothing in return for what he did for her, which was driving her crazy. It had been too long since someone had taken care of her like that, back when she'd been innocent and sweet and deserving of such kindness; and every second of it now reminded her how little of that person was left.

She had changed so much, grown so much colder and sadder and more selfish, and she merited none of his time and effort. It pained her to see someone so good and pure waste so much of his life trying to fix something that couldn't ever be repaired, and the fact she couldn't find a way to make him stop made it all the more tragic.

.

[election day]

.

He was all over the news, of course he was. He'd won. It wasn't like this came as much of a surprise to her, really, and all she would have needed to do to escape him was switch off the television, but she couldn't. All she could bring herself to do was turn down the volume until the room went completely quiet and the bright lights on the screen chased each other without another sound.

His smile was smooth, convincing, no edges. Perfectly reliable - and nothing like the way he used to smile at her. It was only when she pictured that crooked, dirty smile that she understood what this was really about.

That smile, just like the occasional coke, like the scar across his ribs, like her mother's ghost, was part of a skin he'd almost shed. It was part of Petyr, the short skinny boy with the worn clothes and that faint Irish accent he'd inherited from his drunk father; Petyr who'd been so desperately in love with the future that seemed to surround girls like Cat Tully like a halo.

Petyr who'd been so vulnerable.

He'd been useful enough when he could show him to the working class voters, but now he was prime minister. Petyr was not cold enough for that, so he'd had to go. This was Littlefinger's hour of glory.

And Sansa didn't belong into that life, either.

The most ridiculous thing about it, though, was that all that just proved one thing, one thing she hadn't dared to believe all those months, something that no one had ever thought or would ever think now that she'd been so unceremoniously dumped – it proved that he loved her.

Loved her so much that he feared she would keep Petyr alive when Littlefinger needed him dead and buried.

And if he was so scared of that… well, then the way she knew him, she was very lucky indeed to be still breathing at all. It would have been so much safer to get her into an "accident".

She buried her head in her hands and willed herself not to shed a tear. Goodness gracious, wasn't she just sick, crying over a man who she knew had contemplated killing her just to secure his power.

"There," she muttered venomously, staring at the screen, "that's what you've made of me, darling. I think I'm almost as twisted as you are. There was no bloody need to be so scared." The anger was almost suffocating her, and the tears that welled up in her eyes were only making it worse. "I'm not Mum's little girl anymore."

All of a sudden, she felt terribly ashamed of herself, and the grief overwhelmed her all over again. What have you done, Sansa? They were always so proud of you. What have you done?

"I don't know if there's anything left of her at all," she whispered, her voice cracking, failing. "You bastard. I was all that was left of my family. How could you take that away, too?"

Willas found her there almost an hour later, still sobbing. The silent news the only source of light.

.

[four weeks past the election]

.

"I'm alone," she'd told him when he'd asked why she looked so sad. "Everyone is gone, my father, my mother, my sister, my brothers, even Jon and Lady. I'm just all alone."

"If there's something in your life that you can't live with, you have to get rid of it," Petyr had said when she'd told him the same thing. "And if you can't make it go away, you have to find a perspective from which that thing doesn't look so bad anymore." Sansa had just frowned and asked what the hell that was supposed to tell her, and he'd smiled. "It's supposed to tell you that you have to learn to live with it. And I know you will."

But Willas had just repeated the same lie, the same empty words that everyone used, "you're not alone, Sansa".

He'd failed her test.