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The lights shone down into the studio, cameras pointing inwards, monitored by the team of producers and cameramen. Everyone gazed inwards to the two men sat behind a desk, giggling to each other about the petty arguments they would have amongst themselves. Will had invited James to shoot a video in which they rated each fast food restaurant in London. As they started filming, the aromas of each of their upcoming meals were enticing: they both opened the video with an eagerness to them, their energy creating a lively and playful atmosphere in the studio.
“What on Earth is that?” Will shrieked at the sight of James’ order, “Why is it so colourful?” They were bantering immediately, both being overly stubborn and defending their food choices with an intense passion.
“When I was at school, they used to do a buffet thing,” James began, whilst Will started to reminisce about his own childhood. A twang of nostalgia seemed to hit harder than it typically would have, but he brushed it off and stared into the back of the camera, letting his head fill with James’ voice instead.
As the video progressed, the thoughts of being young never left Will’s mind entirely, so combined with the abhorrent amounts of food they were eating, his thoughts began to go fuzzy and gradually less coherent. He mentally cursed himself for allowing himself to become so preoccupied at such an inconvenient time, and slowly began to contribute less and less commentary about the food, allowing James to monologue to his heart’s content.
Will’s change in attitude had not gone unnoticed by James, but he couldn’t find a way to pull his friend away from his recording mindset long enough to check up on him between shots. He stared up at Orla, who exchanged a look with the taller man, but then simply shrugged as if to say “We’re not sure either,”
James accepted that if he was going to get any truth from Will about what was going on, he would have to wait until after the recording to approach him, and so decided to just carry on as he typically would. He refocused himself on the video, and reached out to take the Subway sandwich that had been handed to him, before realising that it was Will’s.
Staring into the box, he surveyed the slightly deformed meal, “You got a meatball marinara?” Which earned a nod from the other boy, “oh my God you are six years old,”
Twang. There was that feeling again. Something about James calling him a child left Will with a longing, and the fuzziness in his brain was suddenly overpowering. He felt like he just wanted to shrink, right then and there. Suddenly he didn’t want to record. Suddenly he just wanted a paci and colouring pencils, dressed in cute pyjamas sprawled out on his front. Suddenly he just wanted his Daddy.
The boy had completely lost the ability to maintain his composure, so the only thing he could do without revealing his sudden need to be babied was to just sit in silence. He felt guilty suddenly putting all of the pressure on James to entertain, but in this moment there was nothing more that he could do.
Will had quickly become very aware of how threatening it was to have a team of adults looming over him , pushing food toward him, which at this point seemed repulsive, waiting for some witty commentary that he no longer was in the headspace to provide. He didn’t want to be there. He wanted to get out. Even having his head in his hands was no longer enough of an escape. His brain was short circuiting and could no longer think of any rational excuse to Ieave. So he just stood up. James looked up at him observationally, and Will was flooded with embarrassment. The only thing he knew was that he needed to get out of there. Now. So he ran.
James and Orla’s suspicions of him struggling were now confirmed, and the man wanted nothing more than to go running after his best friend and do anything to make him better.
“I’ve seen him go quiet like this a few times, but he’s locked himself in another room and wouldn’t talk to any of us whenever we’ve tried to check up on him,” Orla explained quietly to James, apologising for her lack of information about whatever he was struggling with.
“Let me go and try,” James said, “Even if he won’t talk, I just want him to know that I’m there for him,”
James hurried out of the studio, walking briskly to the only other place in the building he knew that Will would go, a small communal living room that was regularly empty, so he often had the room to himself. Standing in the doorway, he saw a small figure, hugging his knees to his chest and shaking slightly. James moved into the room slowly and purposefully, approaching the smaller boy.
Will’s eyes glances upwards at the man now looming over him. Every part of his body told him he should be embarrassed and apologising profusely to his best friend for being such a brat, but what instead came out sounded more like:
“D-daddy?”
James was taken aback: he had been close friends with Will for years, but never close enough uncover any of his deepest struggles, nor his… coping mechanisms. He knelt down in front of his friend, and just looked at his face for a few moments.
“Will… How old are you right now?”
It was this moment that they seemed to truly connect. Will looked straight into the hazel eyes of James, feeling more seen in this moment than he had all day. He looked back down at his hands, counting on them quietly before holding up four fingers. James nodded and smiled at him, “Okay baby, I think that here isn’t the best place for you. How about we call an uber and get you to your house, yeah?” Will let his head fall forwards into his knees, and nodded.
James took Will by the hand, leading him slowly down the corridor, dropping a text to Orla with a brief explanation of “Will’s not feeling great. Taking him back to his apartment.” and entering the back of an uber. James opened the car door and helped the boy inside, fastening his seatbelt for him, which earned a giggle of approval.
Will seemed to relax on the journey: he watched as the raindrops of the window ‘raced each other’, and clapped along to whatever song was on the radio. For James, it was an interesting sight, he’d never seen his typically so hardworking friend look so relaxed and complacent.
As they arrived at the apartment block, the pair clambered out of the car together, and Will yawned to himself, stumbling a lot more than he had walking around the studio building.
“Are you tired, baby?” James tilted his head, whilst the other shook his head firmly, but was undermined by his drooping eyelids and another yawn.
The taller man was still unsure about Will’s situation in its entirety, as well as where he fit into this dynamic, so he cautiously asked, “Can.. Would it be okay if I carried you up? I’m worried about you going up all those stairs.”
Will thought for a moment, and this time nodded, putting his arms out to be scooped up by James. He clung like a monkey to his friend, breathing him in and feeling entirely secure. Will felt no need to talk in his state, and appreciated the simplicity of James’ questions so he wouldn’t get stressed out trying to form coherent sentences. He buried his head into his shoulder, feeling the beard scratch his jawline.
Arriving outside of the apartment, James didn’t even for a moment consider putting Will down, and instead took the key from his pocket, and waltzed them both inside. He walked Will to his bedroom and plopped him down softly on the bed. He slowly joined him, sitting there side by side.
“What do you need, Will?” He decided that the best course of action was to let the little one himself explain to the best of his abilities what he needed from James.
Will, who was still reluctant to speak, merely pointed to his bedside table, which James walked over to, and pulled out a pale blue pacifier and a small dog teddy. Will made grabby hands for them, so James wandered back over, and handed Will the small plush, watching him part his lips slightly so he could insert the pacifier into his mouth. The smaller boy’s eyes began to droop again, and James realised that today’s events had drained him and that he would need to take care of his friend.
“I think you need a nap, baby,” James started, sitting back down beside Will, who started to shake his head in protest, but became aware of his own tiredness, and leaned against James’ upper arm.
James put his arm around Will and rubbed his back comfortingly before twisting them both in order to help Will shed his clothes and help him into pyjamas. Once he was dressed, Will shuffled himself under the covers and James pulled the duvet up around him. He hesitated for a moment, before leaning down and pressing a kiss to the other’s forehead.
He savoured in the simplicity of the moment, and the peace that he had never seen on his best friend’s face before this moment. As he turned to move away, he felt a small hand reach out and grasp his, pulling him back to the bedside. Will opened his mouth in an attempt to communicate with him, but couldn’t seem to find a way to articulate his needs, so he just kept pulling, hoping to make James understand.
James saw the desperation on his friend’s face - the fear of being left alone in such a vulnerable state. “Do you… need me to stay?” Will could only let out a whimper and a nod, interlocking his fingers between James’.
Removing his denim jacket, he walked to the other side of the bed and slipped himself under the covers too. Whilst he was hesitant, Will was not, immediately flinging his arms around the larger man, resting his head where his shoulder and chest connected and sighing deeply. James allowed himself to relax, letting Will adjust himself around him, just wanting to sooth his best friend.
“I’m here for you Will,” James whispered up to the ceiling.
He didn’t expect a response, and was instead met with a little snore as Will clutched his little dog with one arm and James with the other. He sighed, knowing that there would be a lot to unpack as Will came out of his regression, embarrassment and possible anger. But watching his friend suckle on a pacifier seemed to block out those thoughts in that moment. He let his eyes shut as he let himself drift off. His best friend beside him, and a need to care for his little one stirring inside.