PART 7: OUT OF CONTEXT FOOLISH QUOTES
[PART 1] [PART 8]
currently missing mr foolish underscore underscore gamers right now so have this extra long list of quotes :)
“I forget the context to everything.”
Dono [referencing a Tiktok song]: “What you know about rolling down in the deep?”
Foolish: “As in Adele?”
“It ain’t much but it’s somethin’”
“I’m out like sliced butter on popcorn.”
"Do you guys know the average size of a walrus?"
“Anyone want my sacks?”
Referring to the Doozer tee, “I’m wearing your guys’ merch.”
“Lesbian rights, hell yeah.”
“I was quick with the hippity hoppity steps outta there.”
“I’m just gonna get the bubonic plague now.”
“I’m gonna be the start of zombie apocalypse.”
“Listen, a zombie apocalypse would be terrible but it would be kinda fun... at the start.”
In a deeper voice, “... for those dirty, dirty diamonds.”
Chat: You’re like a 5 year old
Foolish: I wouldn’t say a 5 year old, more like 7
“I will not whip or naenae. You have to save those for special occasions.”
Dono: Can’t wait to see you in MCC tomorrow! Get that coin shark boy!
Foolish, sadly: Yeah. Go team.
“I don’t die, I’m kinda immortal.”
“There’s something therapeutic about absolutely mauling these squids.”
"Math isn't really my strong suit, I'm much more of a philanthropist.”
“Pain is temporary, but beauty is forever.
“The whole pyramid should be conduit-isized”
Getting shot with an arrow, over and over again, “I love the pain!!”
“A little blackmailing’s always healthy to build a relationship.”
“At least I’ve still got my little quartz maker, that’s right you little quartz maker, you.”
“Yeah like BBH! That little psychopath!”
“Penguins are one of those animals that I would want to slap me in the face.”
“Would a penguin actually hurt me if it slapped me?”
“I’m a respectable person, who only does it [meowing] from money.”
“Alright, I’m takin’ the glasses off and my dignity.”
Replying to a dono, “Yes you are, my little unhelpful doozers.”
“Your streamer’s a genius!!”
“I was gonna say a little swear here and there...”
"Meow with the glasses? No I only do it for money-" [50 subs are donated] “-Oh, you mother fucker!”
“I think I just successfully didn’t make any noise for like 8 seconds!”
“Everything I thought I had figured out is just out the window.”
“I feel like I could look British.”
“I gave one mouse a cookie, and before I knew it, there’s three properties back-to-back-to-back.”
“I never thought I needed a trampoline in my life, but here I am, trampolining.”
“What the hell’s a fish finger?”
“I’ve never eaten Teletubbies.”
“You pissed on my bed.”
“Never say never, that’s what I actually always say, and so did the Little Mermaid.”
“What happens in Vegas, stays in...Nevadas.”
“You say implausible, I say...snowflake.”
“I’m like a robo-cop.”
“I’m a scaffolding dispenser-er.”
“Either there was not sex or way too much sex.”
“These motherfuckers. This is my land. This is my land!”
“Is anyone’s last name Calcium?”
“No. I don’t eat sand. Too many calories.”
Eret: Gaslight gatekeep girlboss
Foolish: What about my elbows??
Eret, a few moments later: Fuck your elbows
“Settle down there, beacon boy.”
“Am I colorblind?”
“My eyes don’t have color.”
“I never imagined I’d see this many balls at one time.”
“What’s a grape?”
“You know what rhymes with bear? Hair.”
“I don’t believe in Happy Feet.”
“I am bilingual, I am, and some times I might even meow.”
“I will attornize myself.”
“Please give us your money, and we’ll get you sand.”
“ ‘Milk the sand?’ That’s a really weird phrase-ology.”
“Sounds like you are conspiracizing right now.”
“Can I get high?”
Micheal: [talking about AO3, the fanfic website]
Foolish: Isn’t that a rootbeer?
“I don’t know if that’s fair, two for one head deal.”
“So what’s worse, Puffy, being colour blind or left handed?”
137 notes · View notes
some angsty jatp headcannons
because if i have to think about them, you have to cry with me; it’s simply equality ✨😌😌✨
the phantoms can’t sleep. it’s a side effect of death they hadn’t anticipated - sleeping is for your physical body to rest and reload. no body = no sleep
at first it didn’t bother the boys, they did all the things 17 year olds wanna do when they have literally no limits, especially at night - they went to an 18+ rock concert, stayed up and watched the sun rise together, went to a bar, explored a strip club for like 5 minutes (they immediately realised that it was a lot mustier and more depressing than they’d hoped)
soon they just kind of resorted to the comfort of their, now julie’s, garage at night time
luke took his couch, reggie took the untouched vintage bathtub in the back, and alex took the attic
that’s when they realised how much they missed sleep
alex stared at the stars through the sunroof that was still attached to the garage roof - the small square in the ceiling that had made the attic feel as big as the sky above it and lulled him to sleep when he was alive, now only amplified his anxieties.
the stars seemed to taunt him about everything that was taken from him - if felt so much stronger than it did when he was with julie, alex and reggie.
it was all so invasive; how he didn't get to go to college, or share a beer with his dad on his 21st birthday, or see his little sister graduate, or perform as headliners at a sold-out arena, or see the love in his parent’s eyes ease back when they looked at him, fully accepting him for who he was. he didn’t get to live a life that was fulfilling and complete - a life where he got to achieve his dreams and feel completely whole, completely happy.
all of it seemed to add weight to his head and knock the air out of his lungs. he had to cling to his jeans to try and get his fingers to stop trembling. the fact that the crippling sadness he felt was the only thing that made him feel alive and real again made him want to smash a hole into his drums.
it’s what he would’ve done if he was alive - but death had stolen when he could play from him too. so he just sucks it up and continues looking at the cloudless sky, tears falling from his eyes and hand gripping his still heart
luke was never one to do much thinking, and if he’s being honest, he still tries not to do it, his motto is always to take it easy and be rad enough to just chill and rock out
but ever since he saw his parents again, he couldn’t stop playing the different ways he could’ve gone back home to them the night after the orpheum
he just wants to so desperately turn back time and replace the police sirens that his mom heard for the familiar reeling of his bike wheels and just see the relief set into his mom and dad’s face
he doesn’t talk about it to anyone, but the image of his mom ageing 30 years at the message of her dead son is something he can envision so well that it just haunts him now
every time there’s a quiet moment when he hangs out with the rest of the band, every time he closes his eyes, every time he strums the last note on his guitar - he can’t help but feel the weight he burdened his parents with
he tries to rationalise his death, tries to convince himself that death is unpredictable, unexacting and impatient, that there’s no way he could’ve known
but all he ends up feeling is the crashing guilt he’s been carrying with him for the last 25 years
reggie never really talked about his family that much other than joking about his parent’s failed marriage
but when it’s 3am and all he can hear is the grasshoppers and the swaying wind outside, he can’t help but think about his brothers and sisters
he hopes that his elder brothers stepped up and slept with his younger twin sisters when his parents were in a screaming match in the next room. he desperately hopes that in the past he couldn’t live through with them, his brothers played sinatra on their grandfather’s old beat-up vinyl that always lulled his sisters to sleep, muting the arguments he stayed up to when he was alive
he hoped that his brothers went to college and found love like they’d always joked about. he so desperately dreamed that they had kids and didn’t get too sad when they remembered how badly reggie had wanted little nephews and nieces, he prayed, to whatever deity or god that was watching over his family, that they were living happy and full-filling lives
and the last thing he hoped for was hidden away in the deepest and darkest part of his mind. a part of him couldn’t help but wish that the death of their child knocked some sense into his parents - to keep fighting, to keep hoping in themselves and their relationship - to see the best in themselves and their marriage that reggie had always seen
but really he knew better - his fantasies of a healed family was fractured in the truth that his death wasn’t as important or nearly enough to fix his broken family
so the three of them began to dread nightfall, tried to keep themselves as busy as they could to avoid the inevitable
but soon, they realised that ghosts had ghosts to deal with too
872 notes · View notes
Anonymous requested: Alex has a really bad day. His anxiety playing up and just things generally going wrong. It’s the end of the day Willie and Alex are having a sleepover and are in bed. Alex breaks down and Willie comforts him.
Okay, I love this so much, thank you for sending it! I really hope I did it justice, I always enjoy writing Alex’s anxiety and supportive Willie. Sorry it’s taken me so long to get around to writing it, life got in the way. Thank you for the request, anon!
TW: anxiety, homophobia
All the Love in the World
From the moment he woke up, Alex knew that it wasn’t going to be a good day. He knew it because he could barely find the strength to open his eyes and when he eventually managed it he wanted nothing more than to close them again, curl in on himself and stay there in bed unmoving for the rest of the day. He knew it because he was exhausted like he hadn’t slept in days, his mind racing to catch up with his body but not quite making it. He knew it because he felt sick to the stomach and his head was buzzing with indescribable tension and nerves.
Alex had days like this sometimes. Days that just didn’t feel worth it. Why should he get out of bed and get on with his day if his head was spinning, his eyes watering, his breathing hitched, his hands shaking? It was a day where his anxiety was needlessly heightened, overpowering from the moment he woke up, a dull ache in the pit of his stomach reminding him to worry. Reminding him that anything and everything had the potential to go wrong. Reminding him that it would feel like his fault.
On days like this, Alex just wanted to stay in bed. He hardly felt like he could move, let alone carry on with his day like there was nothing wrong, suffer through talking to people and put on a brave face. He wanted desperately to pull the bedcovers up over his head and lie there in the dark with nothing but his own company, but he knew he couldn’t. If he tried, his parents would come upstairs and force him out of bed anyway. They’d make him go to school, ignore all the warning signs, tell him to get on with it.
So, with more effort than it should have been, Alex dragged himself from the bed, rubbed his tired eyes, and made himself get on with it.
He opened up his chest of drawers to find something to wear but was quickly reminded that he’d forgotten to do his laundry. He cursed himself, remembering that his mother had told him to bring his clothes down the night before and he hadn’t done it. His alarm clock told him that he definitely didn’t have enough time to put on a wash – he’d have to wear clothes that hadn’t been washed.
Reluctantly, he fished yesterday’s t-shirt and a pair of jeans from his wash-basket. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world, he knew that; he’d only worn each thing once, they weren’t stained or dirty and they didn’t smell bad. He knew that nobody would even bat an eyelid. But the feeling of putting on the slightly crinkled clothes, cold against his skin, made him cringe. It was like he could feel the dirt against his skin, though he knew there wouldn’t be any. There was something painfully uncomfortable about it but he didn’t have a choice.
Feeling itchy all over, an uncomfortable humming sensation spreading through every inch of his body, he opened his bedroom door and he made himself get on with it.
Breakfast was waiting for him in the kitchen, as where the rest of his family. Alex sat down and poured himself a bowl of cereal, his father skimming a newspaper to his right, his mother frying something on the hob, and his little sister Lily wearing more of her cereal than eating it.
“Morning, Alex,” his father said, peering at Alex over the top of his glasses. “You’re up late. What took you so long?”
“Don’t know,” Alex mumbled with a shrug. He kept his eyes on his food, not wanting to engage. If he bothered trying to talk to his parents today he knew it wouldn’t end well.
“What was that?” his father pressed, slapping his hand where it rested against the table. Alex winced and withdrew it into his lap. “Speak up.”
“I just woke up late,” Alex said. He hoped it would be enough to shut his father up, but he knew that was wishful thinking for a day like today.
“Don’t you take that tone with your father,” his mother scolded, not bothering to look at him as she did so. “It’s not his fault that you can’t pull yourself together in the morning. That’s on you, Alex.”
Just like everything else, he thought to himself. It wasn’t a surprise that his parents were being so hard on him – that was pretty much routine by now – and on a normal day he could cope with it. But today didn’t feel like a normal day. Today felt like he could feel everything too much and was completely numb at the same time, like he had a million thoughts whirring through his head but his mind was totally empty, like he was going to cry but didn’t have enough of himself present to make any tears flow. So he just ignored it all because what else could he do?
“You should start running in the mornings, Alex,” his father suggested, folding his newspaper and setting it down, crossing his arms over his chest. Alex could feel his stony eyes boring into his head, but he still didn’t look up. “If you want to keep your place on the cross-country team then you need to start putting some actual effort in. Although I’m surprised they still want someone like you on the team anyway.”
Alex felt tears well up in his eyes. He couldn’t do this today. He couldn’t.
He said nothing, but clearly his dad wasn’t happy with that. “God’s sake, Alex, you’re really going to cry at that? What is this, some pathetic attempt to convince us you really are what you say you are? You think acting like a prissy little girl is going to make us think you’re queer? Christ Almighty, Alex, you’re not. My son is not gay. Man up. You’ll never get anywhere in life if you’re a goddamn emotional wreck.”
He wiped at his eyes, hoping it was discreet, knowing it wasn’t. A quiet sob escaped him but it sounded loud as a scream in the tense silence of the kitchen. He heard his mother tut, his father scrape his chair back and stand up, and even Lily’s giggles subsided as she realised that her big brother was crying.
“I wish I didn’t have to call you my son,” his father said. The disdain in his voice rattled around in Alex’s head, echoing over and over like some cruel broken record. A moment later, the door slammed and Alex was left alone with his mother and sister.
“You know not to upset him, Alex,” his mother told him. “He’s very stressed with work at the moment, he doesn’t need you and your nonsense adding to it.”
“Sorry,” Alex said, voice hoarse. His mother didn’t reply.
He opened his eyes – he didn’t know when he’d closed them, but the light in the kitchen was far too bright when he opened them again and he fought the urge to shut them – and looked out of the kitchen window. It was pouring with rain outside, wind heaving trees this way and that, the clothes hanging on the washing line at risk of blowing away.
“Can I have a lift to school please?” Alex asked. “It’s raining.”
Alex’s mother peered out the window herself, groaned at the drenched laundry on the washing line, then turned back to Alex with a sour look on her face. “If you’d got up on time then maybe I could have taken you. But no – your father’s got to work and I’ve got to get Lily ready for school. Make your own way there.”
“It’s hell out there,” Alex protested weakly.
His mother picked Lily up from her chair, the five-year-old covered in Coco Pops and with a huge smile on her face, looking so unlike her bitter mother that it was hard to believe they were related at all.
“You’ll be fine,” his mother said. “You’re going to hell anyway.”
Without another word, his mother left the room, Lily waving at Alex over her shoulder. Alex hung his head, rubbing his knuckles against his temples, trying to ground himself, trying to think. Maybe he could get a lift from one of his friends, he considered. But his house wasn’t on the way to school for any of them and he didn’t want to annoy them by making them go out of their way to get him. Besides, they’d probably just tell him to walk. It wasn’t like the school was that far away, it was only a little rain. He wasn’t that pathetic, he could handle getting a bit wet. What did it matter?
He shook his head to clear his addled thoughts, finished getting ready for school, found an old coat and headed out into the rain. He just made himself get on with it.
Even though the walk to school was short, it wasn’t made easy by the rain. It blurred most of his vision, soaked any part of him that wasn’t covered by the coat – within three minutes his jeans were plastered to his legs and his face was numb with cold. At one point, a car drove past his and sent an icy puddle spraying up at him like a tidal wave. He spat rainwater out onto the pavement and wished for the rain to subside, just for a little bit. Of course, it didn’t.
When he finally arrived at school, he pulled his coat off and shook out his wet hair like a dog. A group of girls beside him shrieked as the water splashed them, but he didn’t have the energy to apologise. He just made his way to his locker, trying to move quickly as if that would make the day go faster, get it all out of the way.
He arrived at his locker and saw Luke waiting for him there, a bright smile on his face that disappeared as soon as he saw the state Alex was in.
“Bro, you’re a mess,” he said as soon as Alex was close enough to hear him.
“Thanks,” he deadpanned.
“Did you walk here? Dude, it’s practically a storm out there.”
Alex shrugged, trying to play it off like he didn’t care. “So? A little water won’t hurt me.”
“You’re shivering,” Luke pointed out. “And you’re soaked. Dude, you can’t go around in wet clothes all day, you’ll get sick. And you’re a nightmare when you’re sick.”
“It’s fine,” Alex said dismissively. “I might have some sweatpants in my PE kit. I’ll wear those.”
“Why did you walk anyway?” Luke asked, leaning against the locker beside him.
“My parents couldn’t take me.”
Luke’s expression morphed into something Alex was too tired to identify. There was confusion in there, concern, maybe a bit of anger. None of it made sense to Alex though, so he opened up his locker so he’d have somewhere else to look.
“I would have taken you,” Luke said, clapping Alex on the back. The touch made his skin crawl and he squeezed his eyes shut to try and dispel the grim feeling that had settled between his shoulder blades. “You should’ve just called.”
“My house isn’t on the way for you,” Alex pointed out.
“So? You know I would have come for you, Alex, don’t be dumb.”
Alex’s heart sank. Was that what he was? Did Luke really think he was dumb for not calling him? Though Alex was starting to feel a little stupid himself. What had he been thinking? Had he really let his stupid anxieties get to him so much that he’d misjudged his friends so harshly? Maybe he was as stupid as Luke said.
“Alex,” Luke said softly, pulling him back down to Earth. “Don’t get lost in your own head, buddy. Okay? Just go and get changed. You’re fine. I’ll see you in class, bro.”
He headed to the changing rooms, not really paying attention to anything going on around him and hardly remembering the journey once he got there. Hurriedly, he pulled his waterlogged jeans off and tried to brush any lingering water off his legs, but it was impossible. He settled for being a little bit damp and pulled the joggers on. They were a thousand times more comfortable than the jeans, the first bit of good luck he’d had since he woke up. As he left the room, he shoved his hands into his pockets, and felt something in one of them.
It was a small scrap of paper. He didn’t remember putting anything in his pockets, so he pulled it out to inspect it. He recognised the handwriting immediately and for the first time that day a smile tugged at his lips.
I love you!
Willie’s messy scrawl filled most of the page, surrounded by tiny love hearts. He must have slipped it into Alex’s pocket the last time he’d been wearing these joggers. It made Alex’s heart flip, remembering that Willie was somewhere in the school and this note was proof that he loved him. Somewhere nearby, Willie was wandering the halls (or more likely skating through them and being sent to Principal Lessa for it yet again) and Alex would get to see him soon. That, he knew, would brighten even his darkest days.
For a moment or two he let himself be happy. He’d see Willie and everything would feel fine. Willie had that effect on Alex – just one moment together could force any worry out of his mind.
But then he realised that it was a Friday. The one day of the week where his timetable clashed so awfully with Willie’s that they had literally no chance to see each other. They didn’t share a breaktime, they didn’t share lunch, there was no chance they’d even pass each other in the halls. Any hope Alex had held dissipated like air from a burst balloon. He was back to feeling like today just wasn’t worth it.
Without thinking, he pulled his phone out and quickly texted Willie, asking if he could sleep at his house that night. It would be good for a lot of reasons – he would have to spend the evening with his parents, he’d get to hold Willie for as long as he wanted to, and all the day’s stresses would finally leave him and he’d be free. All he had to do was get through the day.
Willie replied quickly, saying of course Alex could sleep over, he’d be looking forward to it. It was something to be happy about, Alex knew. Something for him to look forward to, to be excited by. But his anxiety got to it before his excitement could – what if Willie forgot, what if he changed his mind, what if Alex was somehow made to go home instead? All of a sudden his mind was buzzing again, a thousand possibilities being hauled through one by one, each less likely but more troubling than the last.
Just as he started considering the possibility that Willie had only said yes as some cruel joke, that their whole relationship was built just to embarrass Alex, he knew he had to stop. He knew he had to force himself to concentrate on something else, ignore every curse his brain threw at him. The school bell rang, signalling the first lesson, and Alex made himself get on with it.
School was decidedly not good. In his first lesson, Alex was surprised by a maths exam he’d completely forgotten to study for. His head was swimming the whole time and he only answered four of the questions, leaving the rest blank or filled with scribbles and half-finished equations. In his second lesson, the teacher asked for homework to be handed in, and Alex realised he’d left his on his desk in his bedroom. The teacher threatened him with detention which made Alex’s heart beat so rapidly that he could feel the blood pulsing in his neck. The only reason he got out of it was because it was the first time he’d ever left his homework and luckily the teacher was feeling kind.
But his third lesson was the worst. He arrived with most of the class long before the teacher, and all the other students were so loud. They were laughing and shouting and throwing things around, making so much noise that Alex wanted to clamp his hands over his ears and shut his eyes and stop moving. It was physically painful and he couldn’t take it. Before the teacher had even arrived, Alex was out of his seat and heading as fast as he could to the toilets.
He locked himself in a cubicle, leaned back against the wall and slid down to the floor, hands covering his eyes. His breathing came out in ragged strips, burning his chest. Hot tears were leaking down his cheeks and every time he wiped one away three more replaced it. He couldn’t feel his legs, if he had tried to stand up he knew they wouldn’t have held him. His hands were shaking so violently that he had to press them harder against his face to still them, knowing he’d probably leave a mark. Every time he moved felt like an excruciating amount of effort.
It felt like it would go on forever.
By the time he regained feeling in his legs, his hands stopped shaking, his eyes weren’t watering and his breathing was even, he had missed the entirety of his lesson. He forced himself up from the floor, feeling disgusting as he realised that the floor of a school toilet was probably one of the most unhygienic places on Earth. But he checked himself in the mirror one last time, ignored the receding blotches on his face, and headed to lunch.
The rest of the day passed largely without incident. He wasn’t hungry, so spent most of lunch pushing food around his plate. Julie, Reggie, and Luke gently encouraged him to try and eat something, but they left it alone when he told them he couldn’t. His final lessons dragged on and on, but he comforted himself with the knowledge that soon it would be just him and Willie and he could forget the dreadful day he’d had.
He met Willie at the entrance of the school after his final lesson. The rain had cleared and there was a tiny hint of the sun peeking through the clouds, glinting on the wet pavement. Alex’s heart swelled when he saw Willie waiting for him, skateboard in hand, hair tucked under his helmet, beaming. He walked over to him and didn’t bother saying anything before pulling Willie into the tightest hug he could.
Willie chuckled in his ear, gripping him with just as much force. “Miss me, hotdog?”
Alex could only nod, burying his face into Willie’s hair.
He felt Willie press a gentle kiss to his neck. “I missed you too. But I’m here now. Just us two.”
“Just us two,” Alex echoed.
The further away they walked from the school, the more Alex’s heart lifted. Hand in hand with Willie, he listened to him talk about his day, ranting about the cool stuff he’d learnt in history and showing him photos of the latest project he was working on in his art class.
“Recognise this guy?” Willie asked, swiping onto a picture of a portrait. The guy in the picture was laughing, his head tipped back and his eyes closed, blond hair fallen over his face. The background was dark, dotted with twinkling lights in every colour of the rainbow. Alex felt himself smile, in awe of Willie’s talent, loving him more every second.
“That’s me,” Alex said quietly.
He knew exactly what picture Willie had used as a reference. It had been taken when the two of them had gone to a carnival for the night – Alex had been laughing at Willie, who had somehow managed to get candyfloss all over his face while eating it. The portrait version captured the pure elation and giddiness Alex had been feeling at the time perfectly, better than the actual photograph had managed. He had no idea how Willie could paint the way he did, like the paintbrush was an extension of his arm, natural and easy.
There were no words to describe the way Willie made Alex feel, so he settled for, “I love you.”
Willie blushed daintily and squeezed Alex’s hand, tucking his phone back into his pocket. “I love you too.”
They arrived at Willie’s house soon enough. Luckily for Alex, he kept plenty of clothes at Willie’s as well as a toothbrush and a pair of drumsticks, so he didn’t have to go home and grab anything before coming. The two of them changed into more comfortable clothes (and if Alex stole one of Willie’s hoodies rather than simply using one of the three he kept there, that was his own business) before deciding to be lazy and tuck themselves into Willie’s bed together rather than heading all the way back downstairs.
Alex had planned to try and be fun that evening, for Willie’s sake. He didn’t want to be boring and quiet, letting his bad day get to him when he was with Willie. He wanted to have fun and be fun, not the moping emotional wreck he felt like. But it was easier said than done. Sure, being with Willie had already cheered him up immensely, but when he finally got to rest for a moment he thought he might break. The weight of the day caught up with him, every crushing thing his parents had said, every bitingly cold raindrop, every loud noise in the class he’d skipped. He felt as tired as he had that morning when he’d pulled himself from the bed.
He couldn’t make himself be fun that day.
“What are you thinking about?” Willie asked, running a hand through Alex’s hair. The touch was soothing and soft – it tore down the final remnants of Alex’s resolve.
He cuddled up close to Willie, laid his head on his shoulder, and he cried.
Willie didn’t say anything. He just looped his arms around Alex’s back and held him close. He gently stroked Alex’s hair, rubbed small circles on his back, pressed the occasional soft kiss to the top of his head. That was what Alex loved about Willie – there was never any pressure, Willie would let Alex do what he needed to in his own time. If he needed to cry his eyes out for some impossible amount of time, Willie would let him and he would hold him while it happened.
Eventually he calmed down enough to speak. Releasing the tears had left a hollow feeling in his stomach (though that might have had something to do with the fact he hadn’t eaten since breakfast). He felt guilty, selfish, like he should have just bitten his tongue and kept his emotions inside.
“I’m sorry,” he croaked, throat dry.
“You don’t need to apologise,” Willie told him reassuringly. “I don’t mind. I just want to be here for you.”
“You don’t want me to explain?” Alex asked. Usually when he broke this way people demanded an explanation from him, made him tell them everything he was thinking, forced him to move too quickly and too far. But Willie, of course, was different.
“Only if you want to,” Willie said. Alex propped his chin on Willie’s shoulder, angled so that he could look him in the eye. All he saw was honesty, adoration, care… things he wasn’t used to seeing when he was in such a state. But he knew he could always count on Willie to show him exactly what he needed.
He took a deep breath and slowly he told Willie everything. He told him how he’d felt awful since the moment he had woken up, how his parents had only made it worse, how the rain had dampened his mood, how he’d found Willie’s note but been crushed when he realised he wouldn’t see him. He told him about the failed test, the missed homework, the panic attack in his third lesson, eating nothing at lunch and how he was dreading the next time he had to go home.
And all the while, Willie just listened. He never interrupted, never offered an unhelpful opinion, never told Alex he was being silly. He just listened until Alex was finished.
“Look at me, Alex,” he said then, voice low. Alex did as he said. “None of this is your fault. Please tell me you know that.”
Tears brimmed in his eyes again, but still Alex nodded. He hadn’t known it before, but he believed everything Willie said. It Willie claimed it wasn’t Alex’s fault, then it wasn’t his fault.
“Your bad days will come and go,” he continued, wiping a stray tear away from Alex’s cheek. “But they’ll always be followed by good ones sooner or later. You can stay here with me for as long as you need to and I promise I’ll try and make every day as good as it can possibly be for you. You are loved, Alex.”
Alex sniffled weakly. “I know.”
“Maybe today did suck,” Willie said, “but look at where you are. You made it through. You got through this awful day. You’re still here, Alex, you’re still fighting. You did that all by yourself – I wish you hadn’t had to do it alone, and I’m sorry I wasn’t there, but you did it. I’m so proud of you. You made it, that’s what matters. You made it and I love you.”
Though he didn’t feel like he had a lot of strength left, Alex leaned up and kissed Willie’s cheek gently. He didn’t feel like he could speak, so that was his thank-you. Willie beamed at it, and Alex felt his spirits lift. He laid his head back down on Willie’s shoulder and nestled further into the bed.
“I mean it, Alex,” Willie whispered. “I’m proud that I get to call you my boyfriend.”
Alex had no idea how to reply, so he didn’t. He knew Willie knew that he loved him in return. That night, the two of them fell asleep to the sound of each other’s breathing, wrapped in one another’s arms, holding each other with all the love in the world.
86 notes · View notes