Chapter Text
William’s legs hung off the dock, the thread of his shoes lightly skimming the top of the lake’s calm water. The soft lapping of the waves and squawking birds lulled him to the brink of sleep. His back rested against the warmed wood, basking in the dying sun and silence until it was inevitably broken.
"I'm transferring."
Rick’s words cut through the peaceful haze like a large stone slammed into a still puddle. William’s eyes shot open, vision going splotchy as he was momentarily blinded by the sun. He blinked back spots to focus on Rick, who had moved towards the dock's edge to stare blankly into the water.
"What?" William asked, unsure if he had even heard correctly.
"I can't stay here anymore."
"Rick, what are you talking about?" William asked again, sitting up. His heart was starting to beat like he was being chased.
"I'm going to spend some time out of the country for a bit. See my mom. I already have a school and flight booked."
William's thoughts felt fragmented, his brain doing everything in its power not to believe what was being outwardly spelled out to him.
"You're going back to Germany?"
He asked, still hoping for a different answer. Rick nodded, confirming.
"Donald set one up for Monday morning. I still have dual citizenship, and the GDA can get me through customs without anyone saying anything.”
The way he talked held no emotion, even his expression gave nothing away. He maintained the same disconnected look he had when considering jumping off the dorm roof all those months ago.
“It's just too much. Every time I pass the fountain or go to sleep. I’m sent right back." He stared into his lap before continuing. "You handle things so well, and I just can't."
"What are you talking about?” Williams voice cracked. “I’m freaked out all the time! The only thing that makes this bearable is having you here to talk to." William pleaded. He knew exactly where this conversation was going, but he refused to accept it. "I'll come with you. My parents are moving to California later this month, and I should have enough transfer credits, maybe we could-"
“I can't see you anymore." Rick cut him off. Realizing it came out too harsh, he tried to backpedal. "Fuck I’m so sorry, but sometimes when I look at you, I’m back on that table. I’ve tried everything, the stupid GDA therapist, the meds, all of it. Donald said it would go away, but I still feel the same. Like at any moment, I'm going to be cut up again."
Three fingers on his right hand twitched uncontrollably, a frequent occurrence likely caused by a minor defect in his procedure and stress. His body looked on the brink of collapse, eyes red from strain and rings underneath from lack of sleep. He looked sick even in the golden lighting from the sun. William took Rick’s hand in his, the shaking slightly subsiding.
"I understand, but" William barely got it out before he started crying. He hated that he did. He wanted to kick and scream, keep fighting, convince him to stay, but the tone of Rick's words was final. They were done.
"William, I'm so sorry." Warm arms drew him into a crushing hug. The embrace was the final straw that made William break down. "You're the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I don’t want to ruin you too." Rick's voice was muffled from being buried in William's sweatshirt.
"You could never."
They embraced for what felt like hours, each not wanting to be the first to let go. Soon, a strong chill set the two apart. The sun had almost disappeared over the treeline. With the wind picking up, they eventually agreed to depart. Rick made him promise to stay safe, and William made him agree as well.
William tried not to think as he drove himself back to campus. He was desperate to get to his dorm and crawl straight into bed. Despite his efforts, his mind began to drift to Rick and his family. His parents split when he was young, causing his mom to move back to Germany. Even though they no longer loved each other, they were still on great terms.
Twice a year, Rick, his brothers, dad, and cousins would all go and visit her for a few months. All of the pictures he had seen of the landscape and architecture looked beautiful. Rick's father was the stereotypical American, his love of football and cold beer only trumped by his love of guns. William would have been concerned about the hobby if you had asked him a few years ago. After everything that happened to his son and the general world, his paranoia was sound.
It was nice to stay over at Rick’s house. William always managed to sleep peacefully, knowing that if anything happened, there were a bunch of trigger-happy men down the hall who would stop at nothing to protect their family.
Thankfully, both of Rick’s parents were extremely supportive of them being together. Even more so after the incident. Rick’s dad started treating William like another son. One weekend, he took him and the family to a gun range, determined to make a sharpshooter out of their new blood.
William was not that bad for a first-timer and found that he actually liked it. The control felt good, like he was taking back some semblance of power in his life with every fire. Rick also said he would kiss him if he made a perfect shot. With newfound determination, William just barely missed, grazing the center by a hair. Rick still kissed him anyway. Shaking the thought away, William directed his focus back on the road.
The drive back to campus was calm, the journey through the mountains always had an amazing view. Spring had taken over with greening trees and newly blooming flowers filling in the emptiness left by winter. The location was far enough away from the daily attacks of the city, but sometimes it felt too isolating. Before long, William arrived and pulled into his parking space outside his building.
Turning the keys, the car shut off, plunging William into the darkness of night. He sat there for a moment until he could no longer hold himself off from crying. Curling in on himself, he sobbed against his steering wheel, hoping that if he wished hard enough, he could wake himself up from this dream. Wiping his eyes, he leaned back into the seat to stare blankly at the roof. His heart hurt. He knew this was likely the best decision for Rick, but William greedily wanted nothing to change. After composing himself, William took a deep breath and got out of the car, locking it behind him.
Returning to an empty room was not surprising, but still crushing. He had hoped to find Mark casually lying on his bed, reading one of those silly magic dog comics he loved so much. Instead, there was just an empty bed, sheets still made, and all trinkets as they were left. Almost two months had passed since the two last saw each other, Mark presumably on another random space mission.
Looking at his own messy bed, William decided on an alternative to sleeping. He dropped to his hands and knees to peer underneath the bed frame. He had to strain to reach the old shoe box stuffed against the far back wall, swatting away the accumulated trash in his way. As he pulled it out, the glass bottles inside clinked teasingly against one another.
At parties, William and Amber developed a little game with each other as they bounced around various frat houses. Each would try to steal an extra drink from the hosts to bring back for later. William’s personal best was stealing a full handle of premium vodka and two packs of cigarettes from a guy who kept making weird advances on Amber. She played along just enough for the two to sneak out without a confrontation. Their spoils grew into a fairly large box of contraband.
Tonight, that handle was looking pretty alluring. William begrudgingly picked up the bottle, swirling the clear contents inside before breaking the seal of the cap. There were surely healthier ways to deal with how he was feeling, but William needed an instant remedy. Even if it only lasted a few hours, it was better than facing the emotions raw. Still, his mind kept pushing him to try another way first.
With a huff, he set the bottle down and pulled out his phone, trying to ignore the lock screen of him and Rick. He quickly unlocked it and navigated to his messages. Mark’s contact had fallen quite a bit due to the waning frequency of their texts. It took a few scrolls downward to even see it show up. William understood. He really did. Mark was busy saving the world. He also had the stuff with his dad and his new brother to help with.
William attempted to draft a message, but each attempt just sounded so desperate and pathetic. He hated that he had to practically beg to hang out with his best friend. The two used to share everything, and now things felt so awkward. After many more failed drafts, William just decided to hit the call button.
He regretted doing it instantly but he still waited as it proceeded to ring, and ring, then -
Voicemail.
William quickly hung up before any message could be recorded. That hollow, sad feeling crept in again. He quickly tossed his phone up on his desk and turned his attention back to drinking before he could linger on it too much. Grabbing the remote, he queued up some old episodes of his favorite trashy reality TV show, and fetched a mixer from the fridge.
He thought of messaging Amber while pouring, but quickly decided against it. She had texted him earlier that she was going to a party with her new boyfriend, James. She rarely had a break from school work and William did not want to ruin her night out with his dumb guy drama. Once enough juice was measured, he finished off the drink with a hefty amount of shots, swirling it around in the glass. The two had grown pretty close over the last two months. It was nice to talk to someone about mundane things in their lives like bitchy professors, exam stress, or missing home. She was also there to talk about the more upsetting things that only they knew.
For weeks after the Sinclair incident, William would wake up covered in sweat, his mind replaying that awful night in the sewers. In his dreams, he was still strapped to that table, watching helplessly as Rick was torn apart by the other Reanimen. In others, he was alone, Sinclair slowly attempting to stuff mechanical parts into William's body until he died from the pain. The worst ones were when Mark would show up. He would kill all the machine-fused men, not stopping at William's pleas to spare Rick. Mark would pitifully look at William, shake his head, and say they were all too damaged to be saved. After each one, William would bolt upright, throat raw, with phantom pain in his arm scar as a reminder.
William stripped, throwing his dirty clothes lazily onto the ground as he swapped into a comfortable plain tank and plaid brief shorts. His fortress of pillows and blankets felt like heaven to curl up into. Once situated, he resumed the episode, took three shooters back to back, then sipped from his concoction. Before long, William began to feel the alcohol heavily.
Things finally felt calm, even with the show participants constantly shouting at each other. His eyes slowly began to droop, and his grip on the cup began to loosen until it was just barely vertical. The background sounds of the TV lullied him to the edge of sleep. The multiple breakdowns left him exhausted, too tired to notice the pane of the unlocked window open and slowly slide upwards.
A creak made William's eyes snap open, zeroing in on the dark figure in the corner of his vision. With a gasp, he whipped the empty glass at the intruder, grabbed the pocket knife from under his pillow, and scrambled to the furthest part of the bed. The glass collided against the intruder’s head with a smash, spraying shards across the room.
"Ow! What the fuck?!"
The desk lamp clicked on, the bright light making William wince. His eyes focused to reveal Mark, dressed in his regular clothes, pressing a palm against his forehead. William dropped the knife into the mattress and stared silently, unsure if he was really awake or if this was some dream about to be turned into a nightmare.
“Are you okay?" Mark asked, finally noticing the state of his friend.
"W-what?" William tried to stammer out, words clogging uselessly in his throat. "I tthought you were gone."
Every syllable slurred, making William only slightly aware of how hammered he really was. Without warning, his body suddenly stood up from the bed, his vision tilting as his legs refused to put any more energy into balance. He stumbled and headed towards the floor, but never made impact. When William managed to crane his head to look up, Mark was right there. His arms held William upright by his waist.
"Holy shit, William." Mark said.
The concern in his eyes made William want to scream. This was all his fault. Instead of expressing anger, William just began crying uncontrollably again. He squirmed, managing to free himself from Mark, and shoved him hard.
"Don't fffucking touch me!"
Mark took a few steps back, surprised by the force of the blow. William’s spins continued harsher than before, sending him over the edge from nausea.
"I think I’m going to throw up."
William was able to take one step in the direction of the bathroom before Mark swept William off his feet, flying both of them through the door and opening the toilet lid just in time for William to start retching.
Mark stood awkwardly, unsure of what to do. The state of his best friend was genuinely freaking him out. At three in the morning, he expected William to be fast asleep, not drunk off his ass. He eventually decided to crouch behind William and gently put a hand on his back.
"Go away!"
"Hell no! You need help."
"Mm fine. Feel better already." He slurred, throwing a thumbs-up that tilted more sideways than vertical.
Seriously doubting that, Mark zoomed out of the room and returned before William's head could smash against the toilet seat. Mark cracked a cold bottle of water open and maneuvered William’s head back. It took coaxing, but Mark was able to force him to drink a little more than half.
"It's been a month, Mark. No call, no nothing, I didn't even know if you were alive!" William snapped.
"I-I'm sorry. I'm here now, okay? What happened? Did you seriously drink all of these?"
"No…" William tried to lie, but Mark’s eyes were too intense, leaving William opting to just look at the ground.
"What's going on? You're never like this."
"Rick's moving away. Out of the country to be with his mom."
"What? Why? I thought things were going great." Mark immediately regretted asking as William started to tear up again. This probably was not the best time to rehash whatever had happened. Better to talk when he was sober. “How about we get you into bed, okay?”
William looked like he was going to protest, but he simply nodded, too tired to even try to argue.
“Hold on a sec. I’ll get it ready.”
Mark went back into the room and finally took in the space he had been absent from for so long. William’s bed was a mess, bits of glass were scattered in sheets from the broken cup and it smelled like cheap liquor.
It was far too dirty to make William sleep there. Mark decided it would be easier to just put William in his bed tonight and sleep on the floor. He could fly back to his own home and sleep there, but he was worried about William potentially throwing up in his sleep. It would be safer to stay and watch him just in case.
When Mark returned to the bathroom, William was practically asleep against the wall. His head rested against the metal toilet paper roll holder like it was the softest pillow ever and his breathing was steady. Even if it looked like William was comfortable, the cold, grouty tiles were no place to spend the night.
Leaning down, Mark lightly nudged William on the shoulder. Nothing. The second time, he got a soft groan in response. He clearly was not willing nor able to get up on his own.
As carefully as he could, Mark threaded an arm under the drunk man's knees and back. William's arm just barely had enough energy to sling around Mark’s neck, allowing him to be carried back into the main room. Mark floated over the broken glass to his own bed. He set William down gently, angling his head to rest on the pillow while still lying sideways. When he tried to pull away, William’s arms tightened.
“I’m sorry. Please don’t leave. I don't want to be alone.”
“It’s okay.” Mark assured. He slid into bed next to William, pulling him into a tight embrace. Knowing it comforted him when he was upset, Mark lightly rubbed the back of William’s neck in circles.
"He said he can't even look at me anymore," William just barely whispered.
Mark’s ministrations stopped for a moment. Rick had the right to be traumatized. His entire body was destroyed and reassembled from the inside out. Still, he felt anger rising toward him. How could he say something like that to William of all people? He was an angel and was always there for everyone. Rick would be dead if it weren't for William's quick thinking to go searching for him.
"I don't understand what I'm doing wrong,” William continued, “Everyone keeps leaving me."
Mark shifted, feeling guilty again for not being around enough to notice his best friend's mental health decline.
"I'm not going anywhere, I promise."
"But you will. Tomorrow you'll be gone again, and I won't hear from you for weeks.”
He gripped Mark’s shirt tighter. Fingers dug into his back, pressing into Mark's skin like he would evaporate any second. "I just want everything to be how it used to be. I…"
William trailed off. The room was silent. Unsure if he had fallen asleep, Mark opened his mouth to speak. Before he could reassure his friend, William spoke again.
"I wish you never got your powers."
His words smashed Mark’s heart into tiny pieces. It was harsh and not completely true, but William could no longer control what blurted from his mouth. He was in pain and finally could let it out. Even so, Mark didn't push him away or get angry or upset. He just continued to hold William, stroking his hair until his body stopped shaking. His breathing soon evened out as he fell asleep.
“I know.”