L'appel du vide

( ʜᴀʀʀɪsᴏɴ )

There were moments that seemed to exist in vertical time. These moments were a cross-section of reality, sign of the repetition and consistency of the cosmos. Their exchange, as trite and stunted and horrible as it was, did nothing for Will but harken back to their years as friends. Part of him, some visceral and simplistic part, wanted nothing more than to go back there, and pretend that nothing had happened that would drive them apart.

Not that they were driven apart. They’d chosen, in their right state of mind, to go their own ways. Maybe that made it better. Maybe that made it worse. Will wiped his thumb across his beard, hoping ( praying, wishing ) he looked decent aside from that. There were a dozen questions he wanted to ask Harrison, but the moment seemed inappropriate for any of them.

Just knowing that Harrison was still standing answered a few of them. “Sorry.” The word escaped before Will could think about it. He exhaled and grasped for something to fill the silence between them. “I… I haven’t been good with keeping up with you, have I?” Will asked, as if he hadn’t isolated himself of his own volition the moment he’d skipped town.

Not even hope would help Will here. These were uncharted waters. His fight or flight was screaming at him to feign illness and dip out of the party as soon as possible, but some other vestigial reflex kept him anchored to the spot. Maybe masochism was the word he was looking for, as surely there was nothing to enjoy about dredging up these memories that, in retrospect, did nothing but remind Will of missed opportunities.

Harrison regretted the words the moment they left his lips. But in their relationship, that was nothing new. He was always full of regrets and ideas of what should’ve been. So he did his best to focus on the now, and what Will was saying instead, standing there in front of him.

He cleared his throat, very hesitant to respond. Neither of the two had been keeping up with one another, if truth were to be told, and it was by no accident. Harrison had cut almost all ties from the moment graduation was final. He’d picked up his degree along with the remnants of his pride in a last attempt to save his life. He’d done well since then, made a name for himself. For some time, he’d no longer been the boy binge-drinking anymore. He’d changed, then changed again. And he was almost ashamed to see Will now when he was down again. 

“I don’t... really think that I’ve kept up with you either, you know?” He laughed softly, nervous almost. It was close to an apology. Harrison knew they couldn’t pick things up where they’d left off, but he couldn’t help the curiosity.

“How have you been?”

( ʜᴀʀʀɪsᴏɴ )

Will had considered not going at all. He hardly knew Betsy, and getting invited to a party by her after years of radio silence was jarring to say the least. The added promise of old friends being reunited did nothing to bolster Will’s interest. After all, there was much to be said about the people who would be there, and there was no saying how any of them would handle seeing him again.

Dreaths and patient thought finally convinced Will that it would be worth the trip. Maybe the years would seem much smaller looking back, than they did when he was going through them. Maybe something would come back to Will that he’d been missing all this time. Sure, he was hedging his bets on the ever-uncertain construct of fate to guide him, but the method hadn’t failed him thus far.

Two deep breaths and two open doors guided Will into the mix, and he was instantly hit with a wall of anxiety. Two more deep breaths turned the wall into a blanket, and he continued. His eyes scanned the room, and the blanket of anxiety began to melt. He picked up a glass of wine, debating for a moment whether it would be worth asking what kind it was or not. Even if he knew what any of the french names ( usually involving the word pinot ) meant, it would make no difference. So he left, taking a sip and continuing to skim the crowd.

After another few moments of wandering and taking the decorations in, Will’s gaze ( and trajectory ) landed on a person he knew he recognized, who he knew he couldn’t forget even if he tried, and he nearly spit his drink out. Another moment, and he swallowed the entire glass of wine, as well as the last of his pride. He then set the glass down on an empty cocktail table and fumbled for his phone… which he had, of course, left in his car, which was currently being valeted. Of course.

Dumbfounded and terrified, he cleared his throat. Eye contact seemed like a shadow of a possibility. “Hey,” was all that Will could manage, word sounding as lame and flat as any monosyllabic greeting could be. It barely even filled the football field of silence between them. “Uh…” With herculean effort, Will managed to level his gaze. “Hey.” Even a second time, the word failed him.

It seemed Harrison’s chances of hiding were dwindling as Will approached closer. There was still a chance to just leave, he considered. He could pretend like he hadn’t heard the man’s call at all and simply walk away. The idea was tempting certainly, but he’d already walked away once before. And tonight was supposed to be a night where he proved he’d changed.

Still, he avoided eye contact and instead looked to the passing tray of drinks. Maybe he could relive that piece of college youth at least... It would certainly take the edge off of what headache he knew was awaiting...

No, he decided quickly. One glass was never enough. He knew himself better than that, and with better judgment, he tore his gaze away from the wine. Of course that meant, his eyes landed back on Will.

“Um...” he repeated ineligibly. So articulate in his words, no one would ever guess him to be a critically-acclaimed author. His mouth hung slightly agape with unspoken words that had been bottled up for years. Say something, that voice shouted at him in the back of his mind. Anything, it begged, as he started to close the distance between the two.

“You... have a bit of wine in your mustache.”

Fuck.