Chapter Ten - After The Last Midtown Show

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Gabe sat by William's side, unsure of what to do with his hands. He thought back to his first encounter with William, how he'd been doing the same thing because he was so nervous about speaking to Gabe. Now it was Gabe's turn to be nervous.

"About yesterday, what I said..." William turned to look at Gabe, pulled out of his trance suddenly.

"What'd you say?" he asked, stuffing another piece of his sandwich in his mouth and turning back to look at the landscape. The view was beautiful, Gabe had always thought the hill was the most gorgeous place to be. Since bringing William there, he'd began to reconsider what the real beauty in the scene was.

"About if, um," Gabe didn't know how to say it. How could he ask a question like that without sounding like he wanted to date his best friend? "If one of us wanted to be more than friends. What would happen then?"

"Well, it wouldn't, would it? So what's the point in a hypothetical question like that?" William never looked away from the horizon, his heart racing at the thought of being with Gabe. Stop it, he told himself, you're just lonely. You don't like him, not in that way. He was lying to himself, and he knew it.

"I know but, what if it did? Would we even be able to stay friends?"

"Look, will you just shut up about it already? It's never gonna fucking happen, not in a million years. You'd never like me - not ever - so why even question it?" William snapped.

Gabe thought about that for a while. He thought about every word William had said, repeating them in his head and picking apart every word.

"What makes you think I wouldn't like you?"

"Oh, don't play games with me. You know perfectly well why I think - sorry, know - you'd never like me."

"I also know perfectly well why I would like you."

"I told you not to play games with me, Saporta." William jerked his head to face that of his companion, infuriated that the conversation was going nowhere. "Is this your way of getting off? You befriend people and then fuck around with them, is that what you do?"

"Bilvy, I didn't mean it like that." Gabe pleaded, his hands shaking with fear. How the fuck could he have messed that up so easily?

"Shut it. Was kissing me not enough for you? You want to mess with me even more. I can't believe I ever liked you."

"You liked me? As in-"

"Of course I liked you like that, who wouldn't? You're funny and hot and you care. At least, I thought you did. I thought you actually cared about me." He stood up and stormed off.


William was up to his neck in work. His argument with Gabe the day before had sparked a whole new kind of anger within him, so he forced it out by attempting to be productive.

There were Maths and History textbooks strewn across the desk, a messy pile of English folders and stray worksheets sat on a cardboard box beside him, jotters littered at his feet and highlighters of every colour of the rainbow plonked down beside his hand. It was mess - he was a mess. He looked at the clock. 11am. He'd only been revising for two hours.

Gabe had tried to call six times since he woke up. An impressive feat, considering it was before 2pm on a Saturday. When William had stormed off last night, he'd presumed Gabe would go out with one of his many friends to some random house party to get drunk. Gabe had actually gone home and cried.

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