Leave Me Lying Here

Title: Leave Me Lying Here (39) 08/23/03
Author: Lydia Nightshade
Pairing: Jack/Will; Ana Maria/Elizabeth
Rating: R
Warnings: none for this chapter except the writing
Disclaimer: HA! I own nothing! I’m a disillusioned college graduate with no future to speak of. The title is a line from the Veruca Salt song Volcano Girls. I don’t own that either I just think it goes well with the fic and I love Veruca Salt! (Plot line and subsequent oddball random OC’s are mine though! Back off Disney!!)
Beta: Mike
Archive: My writing LJ www.livejournal.com/users/night_writes

Feedback: Would be loved, but after such a long gap I'm not holding my breath.
Summary: Things are almost back to normal for poor little William when fate throws him a wildcard… again.

Author’s Notes: *ducks* Yes, a year… no update. I’d almost forgotten this story. I know last chapter I said this would be the last chapter, but then more and more crap kept a-comin’ so hopefully next chapter really will be the last chapter. I’ve at least made an outline-ish sort of thing that the good writers do so yeah… I’m so sorry.

Author’s Notes 2: Another most enthusiastic thanks to all the people that kept with this story no matter how damned long it took me to get chapters out and how many cliff hangers I threw at you. Bless ya!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Four Months Later

William lay on his bed staring up at the ceiling with unshed tears in his eyes. He was still dressed in his clothes for court and shaking all over, though it wasn’t obvious. It hadn’t been easy to go to court and speak of all the horrible things that had happened to him the past eight months. Avery, Barbossa, his stepfather dying… and of course, Jack breaking his heart. Not that he had told the court such a personal detail, but he was sure it showed in his mannerisms, which only served to piss him off further. He couldn’t stand how emotional he had become as a result of meeting the biker. Granted, he had always been a bit of a crier, but not nearly as bad as since he’d met Jack.

“Stupid bastard,” he muttered bitterly, blinking back the moisture beading at the corners of his sullen eyes. He had wasted too many tears on Jack already. There was still so much that he had to take care of in such a short amount of time, and he couldn’t seem to get his head around it all. There was makeup work to be done, more court proceedings, doctor’s appointments, psychiatrist’s appointments, college applications and they had planned a memorial service for Governor Swann as well. Frankly, all the details had him pulling his hair out and wishing he could curl under his comforter and never come back out again.

‘Lizzie wouldn’t let me,’ he thought to himself, sighing tiredly. They had been fighting more, he and Lizzie, since he got back. Lizzie was of the mind that Jack was a heartless bastard that used her older brother for his own gain and Will was, of course, still holding on to the hope that what they shared had really been love and not just a fanciful illusion cooked up by his vulnerable, naïve, teenaged mind.

He heard a knock at the door and quickly wiped his eyes, jumping up and grabbing the nearest book he saw.

“I’m studying!” he called out, pretending to stare down at the page. He heard the door open anyway and groaned silently. “I said I’m studying,” he repeated, sounding more annoyed this time.

“Really?” Lizzie said skeptically, tapping her foot as if she’d been insulted. Will flashed her an annoyed smile and nodded.

“Yeah, that’s what I keep telling you,” he replied snippily. She pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Okay, rule number one, when fake-studying,” she began sassily snatching the book from him and flipping it the right way up, “at least know how to hold the damn book, stupid,” she quipped, pissed as all hell that he had so blatantly lied to her. William blushed bright red, but shrugged off her remarks.

“Oh, whatever! I’m having a shitty day okay?!” he snapped, throwing the book aside and rubbing his eyes. “I want this all to be over with!” He groaned, pulling his knees to his chest. “All I want to do is pass my fucking exams so I can go to college next year and get the fuck out of this state. Maybe even this country.”

“You can’t go abroad. I’d miss you too much.”

“I can go anywhere I damn well please,” he snapped, sounding meaner than he meant to. He saw the hurt on her face and regretted it. “I’m sorry, Lizzie. I’m just really stressed out.” He rubbed his eyes tiredly and let out a deep breath, feeling as though he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“I know,” she nodded, staring down at the mattress. Both of them did so for a moment tracing the patterns and not saying anything. Finally, he took a deep breath and spoke what was on his mind.

“Hey, I’ve been thinking.” He started picking at his nails. “It’s just you and me and Auntie Lena in this huge ass house... I know you and I have had some good times here, but for the most part this place just haunts me,” he said in a shaky tone, not wanting to let out whatever it was he was feeling.

“What do you think about donating it to the state as a halfway house for runaways?” he asked unsurely, looking up briefly before gazing back down at the mattress.

“With everything I’ve been through—we’ve been through—this past year, I’ve been thinking more about those that don’t have what we do. Aunt Lena’s place is fine for us. There’s no reason for us to have this huge place and all those kids have nothing,” he stated with modest authority, only to then shrink back, looking at her hesitantly, when she remained silent.

“You hate it don’t you?” he said, sighing forlornly.

She shook her head adamantly and patted his knee. “Oh, no, I think it’s a great idea actually. I was just thinking of how the hell I’m going to pack all my shoes,” she whined. “I’ve got so many damn shoes.” She looked at him in disbelief, causing him to bust out laughing for the first time in days.

“Lizzie, you’re crazy.”

“Yes, but I’m also cute so I can get away with it,” she chimed, smiling her slightly crooked smile. Will laughed a little more, but then turned serious.

“So do we have an accord?” She nodded happily.

“Totally. What do you want to call it? That’s the best part of donating, people name shit after you,” she said seriously, biting her lip in excitement. “Make it good.”

“The Sparrow House,” he said succinctly twiddling his fingers and not looking at her. He knew she hated Jack, but she was starting to accept that William wasn’t just a victim of Stockholm Syndrome. He finally dared a look at her and she sighed, shrugging her shoulders and nodding.

“Yeah, okay. If that’s what you want, Will.”

“It’s what I want,” he said resolutely. “That’s the only thing I’m sure of anymore,” he mumbled, wiping at his eyes again. She went to hug him, but he brushed it off. “Well, let’s go tell Lena,” he said quickly, bolting up from the bed and rushing to the door, leaving his sister behind.

“Sure… let’s tell her,” she replied quietly getting up and following him.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Six Months Later

Will sat outside his therapist’s office waiting for his aunt Lena and Lizzie to pick him up. Sitting modestly on the bench outside the fancy old house-turned-office, he bobbed his head to his ipod and chewed his nails. After he was released from the hospital he was ordered by the courts to seek treatment for everything he’d been through. Avery’s death was deemed self-defense and Barbossa was sent away for life. Once everything calmed down Will and Liz were given into the custody of their Aunt Lena.

Even though Will wasn’t a minor anymore, part of the court agreement was that he remained under her care for a year or until his therapist determined he was sufficiently “recovered” from his kidnapping ordeal. William didn’t mind, he liked his aunt and he had nowhere to go anyway. She wasn’t at all like his adoptive father. In fact, they were total opposites. It was also obvious that Lena was where Lizzie got her good looks from. His sister had never looked like Swann.

Today had been a rough session and the red rims around his eyes testified to that fact. His hands were still shaking from rehashing all the crap he would much rather forget. Some days he thought he’d never be “cured,” never be able to move past everything. Hell, they had barely scratched the surface even with three sessions a week.

On the positive side, he had stopped cutting and his nightmares came less frequently. Once all the courts and press had quieted down again things had been easier. It had been a horrible six months. The media and Barbossa’s lawyers tried to make William out to be a suicidal mental case that was being manipulated by his captor and desperately seeking attention. He had had to rehash his relationship with Avery and Jack, much to his embarrassment. Any interview he was offered he turned down, preferring to just sit alone in his room studying all the school facts he’d missed.

But it was over now and all the monsters were locked away, supposedly forever. Also, if he studied hard enough and passed all his finals the school had promised he could graduate with his class. Life was going pretty well… but he still felt like a hollow shell. For anyone looking from the outside, William Swann was adjusting well and back to normal—a little thin and a little shy—but doing well. Anyone who really knew him though—like Lizzie—was still worried.

William hardly left the house anymore and he hardly spoke to any of his old friends. The excuse given was, at first, that the media was always hounding him and he didn’t like the crowds, but even after the circus had calmed down, he still stayed isolated. Then the excuse became that he needed to study hard for his exams, but Lizzie knew better. Even when William was all caught up he wouldn’t call anyone. He wouldn’t seek anyone out.

When he wasn’t cramming for his exams he was staring out his window or surfing aimlessly online doing god-knows-what since he’d become oddly secretive, even with Lizzie. He shut her out and put on a brave face for her and the world, telling everyone what they wanted to hear and not how he was really feeling. It drove her nuts.

Hearing his aunt’s car pull up, William looked up from the anthill he’d been contemplating to see Lizzie waving from the passenger seat. She had tried to be extra sweet to him, but even she was getting frustrated by the new ‘false’ brother she had acquired.

“Hey psycho, how’d it go?” she teased in good humor, causing William to chuckle.

“Well, I no longer think the mole people are after my time machine that I keep hidden in my nose… so I guess I’m improving,” he quipped without missing a beat. Lizzie rolled her eyes.

“The fact that you make that shit up on the spot so easily worries me almost as much as your real problems.” Will laughed harder at her exasperated tone and climbed into the backseat.

“How about some lunch for the two comedians?” Aunt Lena offered as she pulled out of the lot. “We can go to that café you love so much, Will.” He squirmed in his seat and shrugged, scratching his head nervously. He hated going out in public.

“If you guys are hungry, go ahead, but could you drop me at home first? I’ve—“

“Got a lot of studying to do.” Lizzie finished for him with a sigh, causing him to scowl slightly. She turned in her seat and stared him down. “William, I promise you, your text books will survive an hour without you reading them. Have some fucking lunch with us!” she snapped, narrowing her eyes out of pure frustration.

“Watch your language, please!” Lena butted in, giving Lizzie a chastising look.

“Sorry, Auntie,” Lizzie replied sheepishly, “but he needs to eat.”

“I eat!” Will insisted, insulted by the implication he’d gone anorexic.

“That’s not what I meant!” Lizzie snapped back.

“Calm down, children!” Lena interrupted, their raised voices giving her a headache. “If William doesn’t want to eat with us that’s his choice,” she said sweetly. Will puffed up victoriously at her comment, irritating Lizzie. “But I’m not taking you home first,” she added resolutely, taking the wind out of his sails.

“What?” he squawked unhappily.

“The café is on the way home and gas prices are too high as it is. If you don’t want to eat with us you can stay in the car,” she explained simply.

“You have a hybrid!” William pleaded, obviously peeved to be so utterly thwarted.

“Ha, ha, loser!” Lizzie taunted sticking her tongue out and crossing her eyes.

“That’s enough, Lizzie.” Lena admonished giving her niece a light smack on the arm. She peeked into the review mirror and saw her nephew spiraling downward into a distressed state since he thought no one was watching. His brown eyes grew panicked and he fidgeted more, chewing on his fingers and staring out the window.

“I’m sorry, Will. That’s just the way it is,” she apologized, feeling her heart reach out for the troubled teenager. William huffed in irritation and anxiety grasping the door handle tightly as he briefly contemplated bailing altogether.

“Fine…” he muttered dejectedly, sinking into the seat and tapping his fingers angrily on the armrest. “But can we at least get a booth?”

“That’s fine,” Lena replied, a small lilt of happiness to her voice at the prospect of William actually agreeing to go out… even if he really had no choice. There were times in the past six months where Will had actually refused to go somewhere and gone limp when Lizzie and she had tried to move him.

“You’ll be fine, William,” Liz reassured, flashing him a warm smile, which he was grateful for. He returned the gesture, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes and she noticed it. Bunkering down in the car he started to mentally prepare himself for what was going to happen. For most people it was just a nice lunch in a pleasant café, for him it was like being told he was going skydiving just as he was being shoved out of the plane.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Jack sat dejectedly hunched over the table of the dark booth he presently inhabited, looking every bit the brokenhearted man he was. Bored, drunken eyes watched apathetically as two drunks proceeded to beat the ever-living-snot out of each other over a skanky blonde creature watching from the sidelines and screaming obscenities, her spandex-covered implants bouncing with each insult that escaped her heavily made up mouth. At present, some of the bar employees were trying desperately to break it up.

The jaded biker smirked to himself, taking another long gulp from his rum and grimacing slightly at the burn, but loving it nonetheless. There was a day when he very well might have been in the thick of such an argument, or at the very least scamming on the skanky creature while the other two were busy, but those days were long since past.

“Bloody figs,” he sighed, rubbing his kohl rimmed eyes tiredly and signaling that he wanted another drink. For the past six months all he had been doing was moping about bars and strip clubs, doing the best he could to forget about a certain young, wavy-haired brunette with warm chocolate eyes, who smelled like heaven. He sighed to himself as he rehashed his memories once again, wincing. It seemed no matter how far he rode or how much he drank he couldn’t stop them or the empty nothingness he felt constantly—as if he was walking around as only half a person.

Having no permanent residence had made it difficult to keep up with the trials that had followed Will’s release from the hospital, but he’d followed along loosely. Most of his time was spent dodging Norrington and his men or trying to think of some big score with which to pay the murderous drug lord back. He had managed to catch some of the proceedings though. One day, walking past a store front display of televisions, he almost fell over when he saw Will’s sad face plastered across the screens, dodging the media as he entered and left the court house.

“Vultures, we’re all just bloody vultures aren’t we?” he slurred cynically, more to himself than the waitress that brought him another drink. “Run away with me?” he asked, half-serious, grabbing her wrist and smiling up drunkenly. “I’ve got a chopper, a big cock and I never say I’m sorry.” He said, smiling impishly.

“So does my girlfriend,” she replied in a flat tone, clearly not amused by Jack’s attempts to woo her. “You owe me a big tip for that one, buddy.”

Jack grimaced and grabbed his crotch. “I’ve got a big tip for you alright,” he said playfully, taking a large sip of his drink. She scoffed, rolled her eyes and walked off.
After so many years of working in such dives she had become immune to such sloppy advances. Jack watched her go and shrugged. “Too much for ya, I understand.” He waited for her to get lost in another table before he downed his drink and then got up, stumbling across the floor.

“You’re not leaving without paying are you?” the bartender asked in a gruff voice, his hand disappearing under the counter for the baseball bat he kept there. Jack paused and grinned widely.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, my king. I just need to use the crapper. Gotta drain the lizard,” he slurred, turning on a dime and heading in the opposite direction. On his way to the bathroom he bumped into the fighting meatheads “accidentally.”

“Watch where you’re going, faggot!” one of them snapped, wiping the blood from his nose. The fight was calmed and the two seemed ready to make up, the object of their affections, a bleached blonde, tapping her foot in boredom. She looked him up and down in disgust, a superior smirk on her heavily made up face. Jack nodded at her and then turned to her boyfriends.

“Faggot I may be, but that guy over there sure isn’t. I heard him talking about how great your girl sucks cock. He seems to think you’re more interested in this bloke than your… woman… thing… right over here,” he said conspiratorially, picking out the rich boy he saw roll up to the joint on a Honda.

“He said what?! Kate, you fucking everyone in this place, bitch?!” the black-haired meathead screamed. She stared at Jack in disbelief, but didn’t deny it, making Jack’s eyebrows rise in amazement.

“Heard him, meself. You should get ‘em,” he goaded, practically shoving the two towards the unsuspecting crotch-rocket owner. Jack watched for a second with a gleam of malicious amusement in his eyes. Sure enough all three of them started fighting again and the bartender had to hop over the bar to help break things up, bat in hand. Soon every employee in the place was over there trying to break up the fight as the rich boy’s friends got involved and the bar soon had a full out bar brawl on its hands.

Jack snorted in amusement, shaking his head and walking calmly up to the bar. He hopped up on it and swung his legs over before going up to the cash register. Pulling out his switchblade, he jimmied the drawer open and pulled out all the cash, stuffing his pockets until they bulged. When there was nothing left he grabbed the bottle of rum he’d been ordering from and walked out from behind the bar casually heading straight for the exit without ever being noticed.

“Just too damn easy sometimes,” he said to himself, disappointment for his fellow man obvious in his tone as he sped off into the night.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Guess,” Lizzie’s happy voice demanded as she held out both of her fists, impish glee on her face. Will sighed and scratched his head.

“What colors?”

“Pink and orange,” Lizzie answered succinctly. Will shrugged and threw his hands up in defeat.

“I have no idea.”

Lizzie’s face fell instantly. “You didn’t even try. Come on, guess!” she whined, shaking her fists insistently. Will rolled his eyes and looked up from his book.

“Can’t we just eat them?” he asked in exasperation before going back to his book.

She huffed in annoyance and smacked him playfully. “No! Now would you take a fucking guess?!” she snapped, holding her hands out pointedly one at a time and staring at him intently. Will rolled his eyes again and pointed angrily at her left hand.

“Pink,” he said plainly and then pointed to her right. “Orange.” His sister’s jaw dropped and she opened her fists to show that he was completely right. “Now can I eat them?” he asked irritably, a lilt of triumph in his voice. She threw the offending candy at him and grumbled.

“How do you do that?” she asked in amazed frustration. Will grinned ear-to-ear as he chewed his candy.

“It’s a gift. I’m the champ of Psychic Starbursts,” he replied cheekily, prompting his sister to stick out her tongue and grab one for herself. “Can I finish my book now? I’ve still got one more final to pass. Plus I still have to think about what schools I’ll be applying to and then I have to apply and get recommendations, which will be hell since I’ve missed most of the damned school year.” He sighed and rubbed his eyes, stressing out just thinking about it.

She crinkled up her face in displeasure and shook her head. “You never do anything else,” she commented wryly.

“That’s not true,” Will countered, hurt by the offense. Lizzie huffed and crossed her arms.

“Going to therapy doesn’t count. You need to leave the house of your own free will—just for fun,” she insisted. “It’s not healthy to be such a shut-in.”

“Look what I’ve been through!” he snapped back. “I’m not ready to face all those staring eyes. The media’s just recently laid off me,” he mumbled, hands clenching and unclenching as he thought of it.

“Fuck them! Don’t become a prisoner in your own home because some news junkies might recognize you. Come to the mall with me!” she pleaded, perking up at the prospect of shopping. “We’ll try on tacky prom dresses and then strut down the dressing room aisle like it’s Milan Fashion Week—it’ll be so fun. Come on!” she begged, grabbing his hand and shaking it. “Oh, please! Be my dorky big brother again!” she teased, but half serious.

Will laughed, but shook his head, crinkling his face up in distaste. “I was never that gay,” he muttered. “And I’ve got too much work… and it’s so cold out and I hate the crowds at the mall.”

“And you might actually have fun?” Lizzie interjected snippily, getting perturbed with him.

He sighed and pulled his knees to his chest. “I’m not ready, okay?” he murmured as his sister gave him the stink eye, sucking on her bottom lip as she narrowed her brown eyes.

“Okay,” she conceded. “We don’t have to leave the house to have fun.” There was an evil glimmer in her eyes that scared her older brother. He eyed her cautiously, quirking an eyebrow in suspicion.

“We don’t?” he asked skeptically, receiving only a wicked grin in response.

“No,” she replied innocently. “I can just stay in with you and blast my Ashley Simpson CD… all over the house.” She gazed at him with a coy vindictiveness, causing his eyes to bug out of his skull.

“You wouldn’t… you don’t even like her!” he shot back, worry written all over his face.

Lizzie never faltered in her expression, staring him dead in the eyes. “Oh, but I love her. ‘Pieces, pieces, pieces of meeeeee!’” She sang purposefully off key causing her brother to cringe violently and cover his ears. “I bought it just for you,” she replied evilly, enjoying the utter horror she saw on Will’s face.

“You wouldn’t dare. I know you hate her too,” he whispered in a challenging tone, but Lizzie wasn’t intimidated.

“I can tolerate a lot for a new pair of boots,” she shot back darkly, jutting out her chin in defiance. Will glared hate right back at her. A battle of wills ensued, neither sibling giving ground. Finally, Will slapped his book shut and threw it across the room when Lizzie started to hum the chorus again.

“Fine! But I’m not wearing any damn dresses!” he shouted angrily, crossing his arms and scowling. “And I so hate you right now,” he added heatedly.

Lizzie’s face beamed with glee and she flew at him hugging him tightly. “I love you, Willma!” she cheered, squeezing him tight. Despite the anger he felt, Will smiled back warmly returning the affectionate embrace.

“I can’t believe you spent fifteen dollars on Ashley Simpson music,” he scoffed in disbelief, rolling his eyes in disappointment. “I should have you shot by the music police.”

She laughed and sat up brushing him off. “Bitch, please, like I’d spend that much on such tripe. I found it on Amazon.com for 89 cents. I paid for the shipping than I did the damn CD!” She scoffed, waving off the notion with her hands. “Desperate times call for desperate measures as they say, and if I blared A.F.I. you really would never leave the house,” she muttered rolling her eyes.

“Hey! Do not mock A.F.I. They’ve gotten me through some tough times,” he added softly, looking down to where his scars were covered by his clothes. Lizzie followed his gaze and frowned as he fisted the material over the spot where he used to cut.

“But that’s all over with now, so there’s no need.” She spoke in a hollow voice, more to herself than Will. He gave her a shy smirk and shrugged.

“Yeah… definitely over. I mean… all this time and not one word. Probably doesn’t even remember me anymore and off screwing some stripper with a sordid past.” He laughed as he said it, though he didn’t feel it, and his smile never reached his eyes.

“Oh, whatever, he’s a fucking douche bag anyway! I don’t understand how you can still pine away for the man that abducted you!” she hissed, her face twisting up in anger at the very thought.

“He saved my life!” Will objected, becoming defensive again, as he always did when they discussed his relationship with Jack. It was bad enough his therapist was trying to convince him it was all an illusion, but to get it from his sister too was almost too much sometimes.

“He put your life in danger!” she shot back in a heated tone, causing him to flinch.

“He accepted me,” he rebutted, his insecurities starting to show. It had been seven months now with no word from the man that supposedly loved him. Maybe everyone was right and Jack didn’t give a rat’s ass about him after all.

“He lied to you,” Elizabeth countered sternly, not wanting to hurt her brother, but tired of listening to him defend someone she found unworthy of him to begin with. Will shifted in his seat and sniffed back tears, swallowing deeply.

“He loved me,” he whispered almost inaudibly, looking only at the ceiling and hugging his knees as his fingers twitched. “I know he did,” he continued in the same tone. “I know he did…”

Lizzie sighed sympathetically and held his hand squeezing it comfortingly. She didn’t know what to say so she just remained silent as Will wiped away the lone tear from his face.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Eight Months Later

“Come on gentlemen, let’s see some hustle!” Coach Dancy’s voice cut through the chilly October air and made it all the way to his runners’ ears. William was out in front, practically untouched by the other young hopefuls. He had finally passed all his exams and desperately wanted to run track in college. After Avery he didn’t feel the same love he once had for soccer. Track seemed right up his alley though, running away from everything. He breezed through the course coming up first with seconds to spare.

“My god,” Coach Dancy said in disbelief, looking down at his stopwatch and smiling. “You are so on my team.” He smiled to himself as he checked off the names of the young men he wanted to come back. Noticing William walking over to his bag he hurried over to him. William didn’t look up at the handsome young coach, instead choosing to collect his breath and take a long drink from his water bottle.

“William Turner, right?” he asked jovially, to which William nodded affirmatively. “Hey, man, I don’t know how you can move so fast, but I definitely want you running track for us.” He patted William on the back. The brooding young man smiled shyly and nodded.

“That’s what I want too,” he said in a mellow voice, taking in the older man’s appearance. Coach Dancy was pale with green eyes and the most charming crop of light brown curls. He was absolutely nothing like Avery. He was warm, charming and encouraging, not rude, creepy or arrogant. Not only was he younger than Avery he also clearly loved his job and wanted nothing more than for his players to succeed. It was a quality that William admired greatly and yet another reason he wanted on that team so badly.

“How do you do it? You’re not a ‘roid junkie are you?” Dancy asked teasingly, but with serious concerns beneath. William laughed and shook his head.

“No, I can pass a piss test. I don’t need steroids to run faster. I’ve got other motivations,” he explained mysteriously, only serving to make himself even more appealing to the young student coach. Dancy looked at him sideways confused by the comment, then it dawned on him.

“William Turner… Oh! I remember you now. You’re that kid from the Governor Murder scandal.” William scrunched up his face and sighed, looking around nervously to make sure no one had heard.

“Could you not say that so loud, please?” he asked wryly, picking up his bag and swinging it over his shoulder. “Thank you for your time.”

“Wait! You’re not leaving are you?” Dancy said, running after the teen. “I need you on my team. We’ve got championships to win and you’ve got Hermes’ boots or something. As long as it’s legal, I want it on my team,” he insisted, making William blush and laugh again. He had to admit the idea of spending more time with the handsome young coach was a serious selling point.

“You sure you want my name associated with your team? The public knows everything, every dirty secret.”

“But you weren’t the murderer, why would I be embarrassed to have you associated with my team? You’re a survivor and you founded that halfway house for runaways—rich boy does good, gives back to society. I’m personally impressed. If I were you I would have just rode out on my trust fund and never lifted a finger.”

“You know a lot about me,” William replied, feeling even more attracted to the older man.

“Well, it was all over the news, it was hard to miss,” Dancy said, waving his hand dismissively, a slight crimson staining his cheeks. William stared at him dubiously, shifting his weight. Dancy laughed at the look and leaned in closer to make sure what he said next remained between only them. “Plus I have to admit I thought you were kinda cute,” he whispered, winking at Will and trying not to show his nerves. William’s ears turned pink and he couldn’t stop the ear-to-ear grin that cracked his face.

“That wasn’t creepy was it?” Dancy asked comically, pondering it out loud. William laughed and shook his head.

“No, it wasn’t creepy. I have to admit one of the reasons I wanted to be on this team so badly was because of you, Coach Dancy,” he confessed shyly, feeling his heart almost beat out of his chest. Dancy was the first man he’d been attracted to since Jack left him. He was starting to think he would never have feelings for anyone ever again.

“Call me Hugh… just not in front of the others,” Hugh offered, reaching out to tap William on the arm with his fist. William bit his lip and smiled broadly.

“Okay, Hugh... lovely to meet you,” William said sweetly, his voice almost musical to Hugh’s ears.

“I like how you say my name.”

“I like your name.” They shared a chuckle, still standing there lost in the other’s eyes. “Um… I’ve gotta go. I’m sorry, I still have some things to work out with registration and I have to buy my books,” William apologized, not wanting to break the moment, yet never one to ignore his responsibilities.

“Of course, what was I thinking? Freshman year is always a bitch. You’ll make it though—you’ve clearly been through worse, eh?” He inwardly kicked himself for saying something so stupid but William actually laughed at the comment.

“That’s true… been through a lot.” Almost on cue he heard the sound of a chopper revving up and taking off. Out of habit he looked around for it, but couldn’t get a look at where it was coming from. Just when he thought he had broken himself of a bad habit it came crashing back. Every time he heard one his heart jerked a little, twisting with blind hope that it was his lover coming back for him, to tell him he was abandoning the criminal life to go honest so they could be together. It had sounded so close too and so familiar.

“William? Hello?” A hand being waved in front of his eyes brought him back to the present and he snapped out of his mournful reverie. “Earth to William, did you hear me?”

“W-What? I’m sorry, I’m really tired and a little spacey. What did you say?” he asked, shaking his head and wiping at his eyes, pretending it was from the sun and not old memories. “Sun, always makes my eyes water.” He laughed, sniffling and shrugging it off.

“I just asked what you were doing tonight. Would you like to have dinner?” Hugh offered, his warm green eyes sparkling with hope. William hesitated at first, his flashback about Jack making him almost feel guilty for even talking to Hugh until he snapped back and remembered that Jack had left him and that it had been over eight months with not so much as a postcard. His face scrunched up in irritation as his thoughts progressed, throwing Hugh off slightly.

“Yes,” he answered resolutely but with a hint of bitterness. “Yes, I would love to have dinner with you.” He brushed off his irritation with his trademark beaming smile. Hugh’s face lit up and he hugged Will.

“Fantastic. I’ll pick you up at 7:30 then? I know this awesome little bistro we can go to.”

“As long as it’s not French food, I’m good,” William said, his tone morbidly nostalgic. Hugh didn’t understand the comment.

“No, no French food. I’m not that interesting,” he joked, shrugging and swinging his hands.

“That’s fine with me.” William smiled, taking the older man’s hand and pulling out a pen. “This is my number. Call me when you’re on your way… and any other time you’d like.” He said with more game than he felt. Hugh smiled seductively his eyes already roaming over the wiry muscular frame that was William Turner. His long-sleeved blue t-shirt hugged him in all the right places and Hugh had never seen track bottoms look so good on anyone before.

“I will,” he replied enthusiastically. “See you tonight then,” Hugh chimed, pulling William into another hug. William mirrored his smile and nodded.

“See you tonight,” he repeated in his usual soft tone, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear. As he walked to his car he felt as though he were on cloud nine. Finally something good had happened in his life. When he got to his car he groaned to see a piece of paper stuck on the windshield, thinking it was a ticket. On closer inspection, though, it wasn’t a ticket but a letter with just his name on the envelope and nothing else.

He looked around to see who could have left it but there was no one around. A shiver of panic went down his spine and he wasn’t sure why. Was this something from Barbossa or did he finally get a stalker after all the news coverage? Opening up the letter he was surprised to see the chicken scratch handwriting. It was hard to read but he could make out the name at the end: Jack.

“I’ve never been good at writing letters, so turn around,” he read out loud, his blood going cold. His feet felt frozen to the ground and he couldn’t move, couldn’t think. He most definitely couldn’t turn around.

“It’s true, precious, I’m complete shite at writing… that whole high school drop-out thing really fucked me over in the long run, professionally.” The all too familiar scratchy voice apologized with his lover’s trademark sass. William’s hands started shaking and he felt his eyes watering, was this just another dream? Why now?

“You can’t really be here. I’m imagining this,” William croaked, his voice scratchy. He could hear Jack’s boots clunking on the pavement as the older man came up behind him and wrapped his arms around him. His eyes fluttered closed as he took in Jack’s familiar scent and warmth. He’d been longing for them for so long and now that his lover was finally back he couldn’t even look at him.

“I’m really here, precious. You’re not imagining it.” He leaned in and buried his face in the crook of William’s neck taking in the scent he had missed so badly in their months apart. He wanted to stay this way forever, but the next words to come out of William’s mouth sent his world crashing into sunders.

“Get your arms off me, Jack. I have to get ready for my date tonight.”

Tbc…

I can’t believe I’ve been writing this story for five fucking years. *headdesk*

songs recs for chappie:
Collide: Feed Me To The Lions
A Perfect Circle: Three Libras
Shadows Fall: Lead Me Home