Chapter Text
The knock on the glass jerked Will awake.
Will scrambled to sit straight as his legs hit the back of the car's front seats and his arm seemed to be trapped under his jacket.
It was still dark outside his car except for the piercing light of a flashlight. Will groaned. He couldn't see who was out there, hopefully not a murderer. But Will didn't care in his half asleep condition. He pushed the door open and looked, blindingly out.
Shit. A cop. Shit, shit, shit. He immediately ducked his head away.
"Are you alright son?" The officer asked. At least he didn't sound pissed. More so, just concerned at Will's disgruntled form.
"Yes, sir," Will mumbled, rubbing his eyes.
"You drunk son?" The officer asked.
Will was sure he looked drunk, his eyes red from his lack of sleep, he felt a bit of drool still on his face he quickly wiped away with the back of his sleeve. He ran a hand through his wild looking bed hair, "No, Sir. Just sleepin'."
The officer made a disbelieving grunt, and turned his flashlight towards the interior of the car. There was a pile of blanks Will was still half wrapped in, a cooler sitting on the floor, a backpack, open and spilling out contents of clothes and socks and books.
In the front seat was a couple pairs of boots, a pile of snack food and a shit ton of trash. On the dash was a map of the states, a toothbrush and toothpaste, deodorant, and a bottle of body wash.
Will felt his face turning red. Before his mother left, she had always told him to never let people see his mess. It can be shit, but you don't let nobody see that shit. You dress it up with a smile even if you wanna cry. She always hid how bad things were, until she couldn't anymore. And then she just left the mess behind and ran away.
Will wished he could run and hide as the cop silently surveyed his car he had been living in for the past couple days.
"You homeless, son?"
Yes.
"No, sir. I just moved here for school. I got to town late yesterday. It seemed like a lot of hassle to try and get a motel room for a couple hours."
"What school?"
"Georgetown."
The officer did a double take. Trying to combine Will's disgusting appearance with that of an academic scholar. Will could almost hear the gears turning in the man's head.
He tried to save the cop's brain cells, "On scholarship. It's my first year."
The cop nodded. There was no way Will, with his junk of a car, his old holey flannel, and overall shady looking appearance would be a student at Georgetown.
"You have a dorm to stay in tomorrow?"
No.
"Yeah. Like I said. I just got in late. Louisiana is a bit of a drive" Will lied. He did not have a dorm to go to tomorrow. He had a scholarship, but that only covered his tuition. Housing was a whole other ordeal he was trying not to think about. At least he had the car, even if he did have to steal it from his old man. He prayed his dad would be too drunk to notice the missing car and his missing son.
"Well, I won't give you a ticket or anything," the way the cop said it made it sound like he was going out of his way to be a saint, "But be sure to get your parking tags and don't sleep in your car. It's dangerous."
"Yes sir." Will nodded.
"This ain't Louisiana. You can't sleep in your car and expect it to be safe," The cop said gruffly.
Will disagreed. Anywhere was safer than Louisiana. He'd sleep in a trailer in the middle of a hurricane as long as it was across state lines. Away from there. Away from him .
But he just nodded his head in agreement, "Yes sir."
The cop shined the flashlight in his face. Will flinched at the bright light. Turning his face away. He realized his mistake too late.
"Jeez," the cop whistled, "What the hell happened to that eye."
Will rubbed the back of his neck nervously, "I tripped."
The cop had the audacity to chuckle, "Fall right into a fist?"
Will scowled but said nothing. The cop seemed to have pity on him, "Look," he pulled out a card from his back pocket and held it out to the young man, "This is the contact info for a shelter. Ok? Take it just in case."
Will took the card begrudgingly, refusing to meet the officer's eyes. The cop seemed like he wanted to say something else but stopped. He cleared his throat and rather fatherly ordered, "Well, don't sleep in your car again, son. You enjoy Georgetown now, alright?"
"Yes, sir." Will answered.
The cop left after an awkward beat and Will slammed the door closed, wrapping the blankets more tightly around himself. He looked down at the card.
Domestic abuse hotline.
He threw the card in the front into the pile of trash. He scowled at the offending card. Did he read that easy? He buried his head under the blankets. He refused to admit it. He didn't want help. He was fine on his own.
*
Will was far from fine. But he was better than he'd been in a while.
He had been applying to colleges everywhere except in the south, hoping there was some way he'd get out from his dad and from him. He spent his nights sneaking away to 24 hour lounges to write essays and apply for grants. He knew early on he couldn't have anything sent to his Dad's trailer home. The old man would find it and beat his ass. Or worse he'd find it and never allow Will out of his sight again. Instead Will bought a PO box and hoped and prayed he wouldn't see him coming and going from the post office.
He accepted the first one that covered tuition. He was too scared to keep checking. He accepted and then didn't think about it until a week before classes started. He didn't plan anything. The night before he left, he had roughed him up a bit, nothing worse than normal. Will went home, grabbed his dad's keys, and booked it. He didn't stop driving until Louisiana was far behind him.
Sure, he didn't have a place to stay. Not a dime to his name, nor a friend in sight. But he was free, and it was the best feeling ever.
*
Classes were refreshing for once. On his first day, he had two of his classes and he was enjoying them immensely. The first was an intro to forensic science and the second an English course. He sat with a nice looking girl, Beverly, in the English class. She chatted at him for a good portion of the class’s free time. Will nodded along with her, it was kind of pleasant to have someone to fill the quiet.
Afterwards, at lunch time, Beverly attempted to drag him to the dining hall where all the students were filing in to eat, but Will had no meal card, nor did he have any cash to pay.
“Are you sure you don’t want to grab something, Will?” Beverly pleaded.
Yes, I’d love to eat–
“No. I’m commuting, so I don’t have a meal card,” Will explained.
Beverly pouted, “Oh come on! Please? I’ll swipe you in,” She waved her meal card temptingly in front of him.
Will forced a smile, “Thanks Bev, but I really should be going. Maybe another time?”
She sighed exasperated, but waved goodbye to him, “Ok, but you'd better eat, you're too skinny, Will! See you later, loser!”
Will watched as Beverly skipped off, throwing him a friendly middle finger. He waved goodbye at her before turning and beginning his long walk back to his car. He’d managed to find free parking semi-close to the school at a public library.
A mile is fairly close, right?
After the long walk, his feet were sore and the wind was getting very chilly. He went into the public library to warm up while he used the free computers. He printed his syllabi and began working on several of his projects. Before too long the library announced they were closing. He quickly searched the nearby areas looking for job openings that might work with his class schedule. He knew he was pushing his luck as everyone else filed out of the library’s doors while he scribbled addresses on a piece of scrap paper. Before long a stern librarian was standing over his shoulder tapping her foot impatiently. He apologized and headed out with his paper of potential jobs.
It had gotten colder outside. It never got this cold in the South. He didn’t own a coat, just a couple shirts, some flannels, and a hoodie. He pulled both his mismatching flannels over the hoodie on as he started his car. Better to be warm than stylish. He looked down at the addresses he’d written, vaguely remembering where they were located.
The first was a coffee shop. The manager took one look at Will’s multi-layered outfit and told him they weren’t looking for anyone. Will didn’t push it, he left and drove to the next one. It was a hardware store. The manager, Mister Gillespie, was a rough looking character who had little patience. Mr. Gillespie told him to move around a bunch of heavy boxes and when Will managed to (with lots of gasping and sweat pouring down his face), he hired him on the spot. Will left happy and sweaty with the first day of work scheduled.
He went to one more place, another coffee shop. It seemed D.C. couldn’t get enough of them. He hoped he could get another job, so in the next few months he might be able to get an apartment. Dream big, right?
The manager seemed nice and sympathetic to his plight. She was a bit concerned by his lack of experience though. “So have you ever actually made coffee?” Alana, the friendly manager, asked.
“Nothing fancy,” Will shrugged, “But I’m a fast learner and I think I would be a good fit here.”
Alana hummed, uncertain, “I don’t know, Will. We usually hire people with barista experience.”
Will’s shoulders slumped.
“But, tell you what,” She continued, “We are always crazy short weekend mornings. Why don’t you come in and help manage the register? Maybe make a couple coffees, if you do well maybe we can talk about you doing more.”
Will perked up immediately, “Absolutely! I’m free on the weekends, I can definitely work then!” Will agreed eagerly. He left the shop in high spirits. It seemed so easy to get a job now. Down in Louisiana, he ’d be breathing down his neck and probably threaten anyone who even offered Will a job. It was like a weight was lifted off his shoulders. Will could do anything-- maybe even fly.
Will practically skipped back to his car. It was such a relief to be free.