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William always felt bad when he’d slip out of his bed at night to smoke.
Brown eyes squinting through the dark, straining to make sense of silhouettes of objects in the room. William always made sure to sneak silently past Vyncent where he lay asleep. He hadn’t ever woken Vyncent before, but he’d rather die again than let Vyncent catch him on his way to do something so inherently bad for his already decaying body. Because if Vyncent knew, Dakota would know— eventually— and then he’d never hear the end of it.
William felt bad, like he was lying to Vyncent. He wasn’t; withholding facts wasn’t technically lying. Besides, he had withheld bigger truths from Vyncent than just the smoking thing— there was something about telling his best friend that he’s madly in love with him that unsettled William greatly.
It was one of Will’s nastier habits, really. Something he had picked up before leaving Deadwood after he died for the first time. He wasn’t addicted— frankly, he didn’t know if his body could be addicted to anything in its weird dead and half-decomposing state— but it helped him focus on something when he was feeling a little too overwhelmed to deal.
It was easy to get away with it in Deadwood. He was out of the house most of the time anyways, exploring the woods or investigating the latest paranormal activity report with his friends. They weren’t snitches, and if he returned home smelling like smoke, his father would cast him a weary, disappointed look and his nose-blind mother would scold him for not being home earlier.
William always had to remind himself that they behaved that way because they cared. They cared. That’s why the constant chiding and disappointed glances grew to be one of few consistencies in Deadwood after he had been caught getting a little too friendly with the preacher’s son. They really cared. That’s why his mother couldn’t stand to look him in the eyes after returning home with blood-soaked clothes and a broken arm after being missing for three days and his father took care of most of the parenting afterwards.
William didn’t like to think about Deadwood.
Smoking regularly became more difficult in Rockfall. Suddenly he had live-in best friends who hung around constantly. William felt bad thinking of his friends as clingy, but he desperately missed having alone time. He worried about Dakota catching him, nagging about how bad it was and making him promise that he’d quit, or Vyncent smelling it on him with his stupid heightened elf senses.
After Tide went missing and Dakota left, smoking was easier for William. He was still afraid of Vyncent smelling it on him, but there was never the ever-present fear that he’d be caught in the act. As oblivious as Vyncent was, William was glad the elf could sense when he would rather be alone. He couldn’t ever bring himself to smoke during the day, still far too afraid of Vyncent coming to look for him no matter how unlikely it was. So William found himself sitting outside of the disrepaired rubble of the old Prime Defenders Headquarters in his boxer shorts— after having stripped off his clothes inside to prevent the smoke stink from sticking to him— with a faintly glowing cigarette hanging between pale lips.
It was one of many routines that came from the team’s split; William would slip out of his bed sometime between one and three for a smoke. On especially long nights when he couldn’t manage to silence the thoughts that so freely raced through his head, he’d have two.
William stared up at the sky.
It was a little difficult to see the stars due to the light pollution of the city— much harder to see than it was in Deadwood— but he managed to make out the convoluted shapes of constellations that he had long forgotten the names of. The faint glow of scattered stars vaguely reminded him of the almost-invisible freckles that dotted Vyncent’s face.
Once again, as they typically did, his thoughts managed to drift back to Vyncent. William sighed. Damn him and his helpless lovelorn brain.
William breathed in, plucking the cigarette from his lips to inhale again before slowly exhaling. Sometimes he wondered if smoking would burn better if his lungs actually needed air, but he always pushed the thought from his mind in favor of taking another drag and relishing in the disgusting stench.
There was a moment of calm before the rustling of movement sounded in William’s ears.
“Will? What are you doing out here?” Vyncent’s voice sounds from somewhere behind him.
William’s eyes widened in panic and he put the cigarette out on the concrete, tossing it in hopes that Vyncent wouldn’t notice the half-burnt butt amongst the rubble.
“Oh, uhm, you know, just getting some fresh air.” William choked out the lie.
“In your underwear?” William picked up on the sarcastic amusement in Vyncent’s voice, though the slight note of poorly-veiled worry wasn’t lost on him either.
“I got… hot…?” William responded stupidly. His words quirked up at the end as if he was asking himself to clarify that that’s really what had happened.
“Right.”
Vyncent sat beside William, staring out at the shitty night sky. William stared at Vyncent, and they sat in a tense silence until Vyncent’s voice sounded out again.
“Will, you constantly complain about being cold and I know you don’t need to breathe.” Vyncent sighed softly.
William silently wonders where Vyncent’s obliviousness had gone and when the elf had started to consciously remember things about him. He decides that the Vyncent who remembered little things about him was far scarier than any villain the Prime Defenders had ever faced. In the second after that, William realizes he had just been staring and there’s a second-longer pause while William debates on whether he needs to tell Vyncent the truth or not.
Vyncent looked over at him, tilting his head and quirking a curious eyebrow. William’s resolve shatters instantly.
“I was smoking.”
“Oh.” Vyncent’s voice was quiet and he sniffed a couple of times at the air, nose scrunching up in disgust at the lingering smoke smell.
William realizes that there was absolutely no way Vyncent hadn’t already smelt it. He fidgets in his spot nervously, silence filling the air between them once more.
“Why?” And suddenly, Vyncent was his normal clueless self.
“Being dead is hard.” William responded quietly. Vyncent nodded like he understood completely, but they were both painfully aware of how little Vyncent understood about it at all.
Once again silence filled the air, the tension between the two boys almost palpable.
“It’s not good for you.” Vyncent hummed absentmindedly.
“I know.”
“Then why do you do it?”
“Because it gives me the chance to think about things, or— or to stop thinking about things. It’s a guaranteed way to feel something even though my nerve endings are dead and numb and everything is dull. I’d quit if I had something better, but I don’t, and being dead is hard, Vyncent. You’ll never understand that— or at least I hope you won’t.” Words tumble off of William’s tongue uncontrollably and he really wants to blame the cigarette for making him so loose-lipped.
Really, William knows that’s not how cigarettes work, but he thinks he’d rather die again than admit that it feels good to finally tell someone. Maybe being caught wasn’t so bad.
Vyncent nods.
“And you’re naked because…?”
“I didn’t want you to have to smell it on me.” William sighed out softly. I didn’t want you to find out at all, he adds to himself.
“Oh.” Vyncent hummed, there was a brief pause before he added a quiet, “thank you.”
William nodded— as if Vyncent was thanking him for holding the door open for him, or something else totally insignificant— before silence filled the air around the pair once more.
The elven boy stood up suddenly, offering a hand down to William to help him up. William takes it.
“Come on, I’m tired.” Vyncent murmured. “We’re putting the beds together; if you’re up, I’m up. You’re not doing this anymore. You’re all I have left, Will, I’m not just gonna watch you destroy yourself.”
William pursed his lips, but nodded, following Vyncent through the rubble and back inside. Vyncent’s words replayed in William’s mind like a broken record, and he tried his hardest to act like they didn’t mean much.
They pair made a quick stop where William’s clothes lay abandoned on the floor in a pile, and Vyncent pretended not to watch while William redressed. It was pointless, William could practically feel Vyncent’s eyes boring holes into the skin of his back as he pulled his shirt over his head, but neither of them spoke about it.
Once he was done tying the drawstring of his pajama pants, Vyncent’s fingers interlocked with William’s again and the elf dragged him back to the room they had been living out of.
Vyncent released William’s hand and moved to his mattress on the floor, clumsily kicking and sliding it across the floor until it sat adjacent to William’s.
“Lay down.” Vyncent gestured towards their now conjoined beds and watched as William sulked his way across the room to throw himself down onto the bed.
Vyncent quickly joined him, laying down beside William and reaching out for his hand. He interlocked their fingers before adjusting to get comfortable.
William let out a sigh before scooting a little bit closer. His heart jumped as Vyncent released his hand and wrapped an arm over William instead.
If his body were even a little bit more alive, he’s sure his cheeks would be flushed a dark red, and he almost swears he can feel his dead heart beat faintly in his chest in time with Vyncent’s own.
This was okay, William could live with this. And, if a couple smokeless days later, William stirred restlessly in their bed from his nicotine withdrawals and Vyncent held him a little bit tighter, he could live with that too.