WILL

The room was dim, the light from the TV casting soft shadows along the walls. The familiar hum ofE. the air, but I wasn't really watching. My attention flickered between the movie and Lou, sitting beside me on the couch, her eyes glued to the screen, completely engrossed with a bowl of popcorn and a box of Reese's Pieces—at her insistence.

"You can't watchE. Reese's, Will Traynor," she had said, making me smile."

A few weeks passed since she moved back in and since that earth-shattering kiss. Every day, things got better, and I had to admit that Lou made me feel a little more... alive. I also couldn't complain about the acts of affection she showed me daily. Seven months ago, I never would have imagined someone like Lousia Clark in my life—someone who treated me like a man. We had our challenges, but we worked through them. There were good and bad times, but I could get through them with Lou at my side.

The cease-and-desist Michael sent to the press had done its job; the endless phone calls, the relentless knocking on the door, the invasive questions—they'd all finally stopped. I no longer feel like the world is watching, waiting for some salacious story to print.

There are still moments—quiet, fleeting moments—when my thoughts drift back to that conversation we had about Patrick's betrayal. It was late, after one of our movie nights, and she'd confessed the truth in that halting way of hers, her eyes filled with guilt and apology.

I didn't say much at the time, trying to absorb the fact that the man who was once so important to Lou had been the one to sell my story. I had sat quietly as she spoke, wondering why Lou hadn't told me sooner. But the issue was done, and there was no use dwelling on it. Lou made a mistake, and I realized that I would forgive her anything.

Even as I pushed the thought aside, the noise inside me wouldn't quiet down. It was still there, the weight of Switzerland slipping through my grasp, the idea that I was holding Lou back from the life she should be living, and the fear that I'd hurt her all over again. I stole a furtive glance at her, feeling the familiar tightness across my skin as I studied her.

She laughed softly at something on the screen, completely unaware of my turmoil. It never ceased to amaze me how she could lose herself in the simplest things—movies, books, even the ridiculous dresses she insisted on wearing. Tonight, she sat with her body curled up comfortably under the blanket, and I wished I could snuggle beside her—like a normal boyfriend.

I couldn't remember the last time I'd watchedE. was one of my favorites as a kid, back when I was still convinced that life was this grand adventure waiting to be seized. But now, it felt like watching through a fog, like the part of me that used to connect to these stories had been dulled, worn away by years of bitterness and resignation.

Lou turned toward me, her face illuminated by the TV screen, and I forced a smile. "Enjoying this one, are you?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

She nodded, her expression soft. "Of course. It's a classic." She paused, studying me with that look that made me feel like she could see through every layer of pretense I put up. "You okay?"

I shrugged. "Just thinking about how long it's been since I've watched something like this."

Lou smiled, her eyes lighting up as she settled back beside me. "Well, I'm glad we're watching it together. It's better with company."

"So, I'm company?"

Company. That's what I was now—someone to sit with, someone to fill the silence. But there were days when it felt like I was a burden instead of the person she needed me to be.

"Yep."

She eased off the sofa and poured a few Reese's in her hand before feeding me a few, and my morose thoughts dissipated as if they were never there.

"Delicious," I teased, conveying more than one meaning.

She looked beautiful tonight, with her hair piled on her head in a sloppy bun. She was wearing a jumper and a pair of loose cotton pajama pants. I never saw anyone more breathtaking. In my past life, I wouldn't have noticed women like Lou, not because she was unattractive, but she was right. I had my sights on women like Alicia—tall, blonde, with ice water in their veins. Lou was warm and inviting, a light that brightened up the dark spaces in my life.

"Will?" Her expression looked curious.

I didn't respond immediately, my gaze drifting back to the screen.

"Sorry. Got distracted.

She laughed again, the sound light and infectious. "I know this isn't your usual cinematic taste," she said, trying to sound posh. "I'm surprised you didn't try to get me to watch a silent film or something."

Her comment caught me off guard. "Silent film?" A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. "Oh, Clark, you think you know me so well, don't you."

She nodded, her smile bright. "Well, it has been seven long months."

I chucked. "There's an exhibit at the museum here. Silent films—early cinema. I think it's still running."

Her eyes widened, the excitement already brewing beneath the surface. "Really? I didn't know that! We should go!"

I hesitated, the smile fading slightly. "I don't know, Clark. Crowds, public places..."

Louisa scooted closer, her face full of that boundless optimism I admired and feared. "Come on, Will. It'll be fun. We've been cooped up in here for weeks. You like silent films, right? And who better to go with than an uncultured fool like me who has no idea what she's watching?"

I couldn't help but laugh despite the gnawing anxiety that crept up at the thought of being out in public again. The stares, the whispers—they were always there, lurking just beneath the surface of any outing. But Lou... Lou had a way of making even the most impossible things seem doable.

"Don't do that, Clark. You're nobody's fool."

"Alright, the untutored," she amended.

"We'll see," I muttered, shaking my head.

Lou grinned, clearly not taking my hesitation seriously. "That's as good as a yes."

She shimmied her shoulders, and I longed to take her in my arms.

The next morning, the weather was clear and bright for late September, sunlight streaming through the window as Nathan got me ready. The sound of Lou rustling around in the other room was familiar now, a constant presence in my once-frustrating routine.

Nathan situated me in my chair as the door slid open.

"Are you sure you're up for this?" she asked, peeking her head around the frame, her hair curling in loose waves. "It's not too late to back out, you know. We can always stay in and binge more movies."

"Clark," I sighed. "We're going. I agreed, didn't I?"

"Mr. T's already, Lou. There's no turning back now," Nathan said with a grin.

Her face lit up, and she clapped her hands. The smile I'd grown so accustomed to pulled me out of my reluctance. It wasn't that I didn't want to go—part of me was excited to be out of the house—but the other part of me...well, the other part of me still hated being seen.

But for Lou, I was willing to try.

"Alright," she said, stepping into view, her bright red jumper oversized and hanging over her small frame. She turned in a little twirl, revealing her legs covered in the infamous bumblebee tights—the same ones I had gotten her for her birthday.

I raised an eyebrow. "The tights?"

She grinned, standing on her tiptoes and striking a mock pose. "I thought I'd wear something that matches the mood. You like them?" She stuck out her leg and flexed her ankle.

A laugh escaped me, the tension in my shoulders loosening slightly. "I should have known."

She crossed her arms, sticking her chin out defiantly. "Don't pretend you don't love them, Traynor. You gave them to me, after all."

I chuckled. "I'll admit, they suit you."

Lou beamed, looking pleased with herself. "Good. You're going to need me to distract people with all this," she gestured to her outfit, "while we're out."

I couldn't help but smile at her optimism. That's what she did best—made everything lighter, even when it felt impossibly heavy. Still, I glanced out the window toward the road ahead of us. It had been weeks since I'd been anywhere in public. The thought of being stared at, of people whispering, always brought a familiar tightening in my chest. But this wasn't just about me. Lou needed this.

And if I was honest with myself, maybe I did too.

She wrapped a long red scarf around my neck before leaning in and planting a chaste kiss on my lips. My cheeks warmed as I glanced at Nathan, who was grinning at us. I started growing used to little affectionate acts like this. A peck here, a kiss there. I especially liked it when she climbed onto my lap. Sometimes, I liked to pretend that I could feel the weight of her body across my thighs.

"Do it again," I demanded with a smile.

And she did.

After Nathan helped me into the car, we drove through our small town and chatted about everything from the weather to the last few films we watched. Although I hated it here, I had to admit Bishop's Stortford was quite picturesque in the autumn sun. The museum itself was an unassuming building, its stone façade blending into the quiet charm of the place. Lou bounced slightly in her seat as we pulled up, her excitement infectious.

"Ready?" she asked, turning to me with that wide-eyed grin.

I hesitated, the moment stretching out before I nodded. "Only if you found the perfect spot."

She laughed before swatting me on the shoulder, and maybe I imagined it, but my whole body felt warm.

Inside, the museum was quieter than I expected, the air filled with the low murmur of conversations and the soft hum of the exhibit lights. I should have realized it wouldn't be very crowded. It was a Tuesday morning in the middle of September. Lou darted ahead, enthralled by the various displays, while I kept my distance, observing more than participating. The sound of my powerchair echoed around us as I moved behind her.

It wasn't until we reached the silent film exhibit that I saw Lou truly come alive.

"Oh wow," she whispered, her eyes widening as she took in the small, dimly lit room where the flickering black-and-white images played on a screen. She flagged down an usher and whispered something in his ear. The young man nodded and showed us to a wheelchair-accessible row. My chair fit perfectly.

After a while, the soft, tinny sound of a piano accompanied Buster Keaton'sThe General, transporting us back to a different time.

"This is incredible," Lou said, barely able to contain her excitement. "I've never seen anything like it."

I watched her face; her joy was as palpable as the light reflecting off the screen. She was so captivated, so lost in the magic of it all. It reminded me of the first film we watched together. The one I had joked about being French gay Porn—Jean de Florette.

Lou glanced over at me, catching the look on my face. "See? This wasn't so bad, was it?"

"No," I admitted. "Not bad at all."

We sat together in the small theater, the shadows of the silent film dancing on the walls around us. The weight of the world felt a little less heavy, at least for the time being.

Lou leaned into me, her head resting lightly on my shoulder as we watched the flickering images in silence. I let myself believe that this—whatever this was between us—might just be enough.