Solitary Sailor

Tina had already made it home—their home. The place they had built together, the place that should have felt warm and familiar, but lately had carried an echoing emptiness that James felt in his bones more than he ever admitted aloud. Every night he walked through the same rooms, saw the same furniture they’d picked out side by side, but somehow everything felt slightly shifted, as if the house itself was holding its breath.

He wasn’t sleeping in their bed anymore. That soft, familiar space had become a reminder of everything he was failing to say, everything he was afraid to face. So he’d taken to the couch instead, letting the cushions swallow him while he stared at the ceiling and pretended it was a choice. He wasn’t holding her tight like he used to; he wasn’t reaching for her warmth in the dark. Instead, he’d been running—bolting the moment the ache in his chest told him he wanted her close.

It was wearing him down. The guilt, the distance, the quiet grief of loving someone from arm’s length. So when the time came to close the place up for the night, James slipped outside, letting the cool air hit his face as he dug for his lighter. The familiar ritual steadied him: cigarette, flame, inhale, hold, exhale.

He was halfway through his first drag when his eyes drifted across the porch—and landed on Smee.

“Hey, William,” James called, lifting the cigarette slightly in greeting. “You out for a smoke as well?"

------------ Things had gotten… strange lately. Smee didn't know what to make of it all, really. He was torn between wanting to stay as far away from Tina and James, let them work things out in their own time, and wanting to insert himself into the picture somehow, as if that was going to make everything okay. Before the wedding, Smee had finally gotten around to feeling okay with Tina being around. They weren't friends by any means, but he could tolerate her now. However… whatever had happened between them during that brief period afterward, when they were just coming back to, suddenly Tina reverted back to old habits and Smee felt uncomfortable whenever he saw her now, just as before.

And James… oh, James… It killed him that he was staying away from his oldest and most dearest friend, but he didn't exactly know how to make the situation better, and so he figured maybe staying away from both of them would be the right move. Clearly he'd never been good at chess. Hearing his friend's voice startled him, jumping a bit. "Oh— er… yeah," he confirmed, quietly. It wasn't a good habit, he knew that, but it was better than drinking his sorrows away, though not much. He patted his pockets, looking for his lighter, before realizing that he must have either forgotten it, or lost it.

He briefly considered heading back inside to look for it, but figured… well, James was standing right there, and he clearly had one on him. C'mon, just ask, it's fine, he told himself. "You, um… g-got a light?"

--------------

James looked at his friend and something in his chest tightened. It gnawed at him—how William had been keeping his distance lately, how their conversations had thinned out, how the easy familiarity between them had shifted into something quieter and more formal. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was just life, or work or the weight everyone carried in their own way.

But James couldn't shake the thought that maybe he was the reason. Maybe Smee got used to the silence James wrapped around himself these days, or maybe he was giving him some sort of space out of misplaced politeness. it reminded James—of a time before Tina. A time that had been both cold and hollow in ways he rarely let himself think about. A time where loneliness had settled in his lungs so much that he at times forgot how to breathe.

And yet, back then, William had been the one to make things tolerable. Breathable even. He'd been a constant presence when everything had felt painfully uncertain. The memory of steadiness tugged at James now, stirring something fragile and unspoken inside of him.

"sure…" James finally managed, the word a little rough around the edges. he held out the lighter for William, the small metal click breaking the silence. The flame flickered between them, waving in the soft night breeze, casting a warm glow on William's face.

And just like that James was hit with a wave of nostalgia-thick, unexpected and almost dizzying. The kind that smelled like lost nights, bad jokes, whiskey and shared frustrations combined with the comfort of not being alone. "William-I…"

--------------

James was probably one of the only people left to still call him by his proper name. On one hand, it felt almost like a strange alias. But on the other, it brought back so many fond memories between the two men. He had decided long ago that he liked that, James using his full name. Though these days, he wasn't sure how much it still fit him. That what's the name that his friend used. Lately, he think of himself as much of a friend, more like… Well, he had always been a decent coworker, and a fairly good confidant. But standing before James, now he realized that he had been not the best at providing that level of friendship or closeness they once had.

Smee put the cigarette between his lips and leaned forward, holding a hand up to block the wind as the end ignited. He gave a polite nod of thanks before taking a hit and pulling back to exhale. "Hm?" His eyes looked up at James, a bit distant, but alert. There was concern in his voice when James hesitated and he instinctively chased after that cliffhanger. "What is it?"

--------------

James looked down at his hand-the bare one, the one that should've been circled by gold. His thumb brushed over the skin where the wedding band used to sit, automatically like muscle memory hadn't gotten the message yet. He wondered if Smee had noticed. William noticed everything, usually, but James couldn't tell if he'd caught this particular detail or if he was politely pretending not to.

the truth was the ring wasn't lost, it wasn't discarded either. It was sitting somewhere safe, somewhere Tina could find it if she wanted to-somewhere she could look at it and understand, without him having to say the words out loud, that something between them had shifted. and not in a good way. not in a way that led to conversations and hopeful promises or the kind of fights couples have before they fix things.

No. It was the kind of change that settled quietly, the kind that lived in the pauses between sentences and the way they avoided looking at each other too long.

James swallowed the weight of everything pressing sharp against his ribs. then he spoke his voice sounding more brittle than he meant to.

"I…need a place to stay for a week," he said the words slow, deliberate, like he was pushing them through thick mud. "I was wondering if I could crash at your place?"

That sentence didn't feel like a simple request-it felt like a confession. Like admitting defeat, or admitting fear, or maybe both at once. As soon as the words left his mouth, they sat heavily in the air, heavier than they had in his head, heavier than he was ready for.

James felt the weight press down on him, settling into him and with a finality he wasn't sure he was prepared to face.

--------------

Of course, getting this close to James, Smee had noticed a crucial article of clothing that was missing. He had known that things with James and Tina were not going swimmingly, but he never would have imagined that they were this bad. He pondered for a moment whether or not he should say something, but now was not the right time. If there ever was one, that was.

No. He couldn't possibly bring that up. Now, or ever. If James wanted to tell him, he would, Smee trusted that.

Of all the things that James could have said or asked in that moment, he was not expecting that to be it. The weight of the words hit him like a ton of bricks. He couldn't say yes, could he? Tina would be furious, likely, and then there was the very real issue of the fact that it would hurt… likely far too much, to have James back at his place, knowing that it wouldn't be like it had been back then. Then again, how could he say no?

He cursed himself for even thinking about James that way. There was no way in hell that would ever happen again, he knew that. He knew that those days were nothing more than memories now, stories that he could reflect back on when he was missing that old nostalgia. Smee realized probably far too late that he had been staring at James for much too long without saying anything. "Oh— well, I don't know… I don't want Tina to become furious with you, or— myself," he sighed.

And still. James was giving him that look. The one that said please, and came from a place of near desperation. Holding the cigarette between his fingers, he bit his lower lip before ultimately making a decision that he hoped he didn't regret. "Sure, James, I-I could do that, for you."

--------------

A soft smile tugged at James's lips when Smee- no, William- finally gave in and told him he could stay. The relief that washed over him was quiet but profound, settling somewhere deep in his chest. William's home had always held a certain sense of safety for him, even back in the days when he wouldn't have admitted he needed it.

He wasn't sure why William expected Tina to disapprove. Maybe because everything between them lately had felt so fragile, so easily disturbed. Or maybe because he feared she'd be glad to have him out of the house, glad for the extra room to breathe without his presence weighing him.

she was scared of him. he knew that now-even if it hurt to admit it, even if it twisted something inside him every time her shoulders tensed beneath his hand, every time her breath caught like she wasn't sure whether to lean into him or step away. he hated that he was the root of the unraveling-no matter how much he wished it were something simpler, something external.

still he wouldn't call it a breakup or divorce to come. No. It felt more like a pause, a break in the rhythm of their lives together. A suspended moment where both of them were trying to decide who they were now, and whether they fit together in the same way they once had. A time for Tina to figure out f he was the man she still wanted… and a time for James to question whether he could stand beside a woman whose every touch seemed to sting with fear.

the thought frustrated him- frustrated him enough that he forced himself to focus on William instead. On the steady presence beside him, on the familiar voice, on the simple act of being welcomed without judgment, and then he realized. he heard it.

For you.

The words lodged themselves in his mind, ringing with a warmth he hadn't expected. He blinked, something inside him tightening as if reacting before he could stop it. For a moment he wondered-suspected, even-there was something underneath those words, some echo of the past whispering through them.

but no-whatever they had once shared, whatever had stirred between them years ago, lived firmly in a distant chapter of his life. not the present. it couldn't be the present. Allowing it to be anything else as an act of kindness would complicate matters far too much - things were already fragile and breaking in his hands.

James knew this. It was the reason he had never told William what he'd felt for him back then. The reason he'd kept that part of himself locked away until the feelings had softened, changed shape and eventually faded into something easier-something like friendship.

he had moved on. Fallen in love with someone new. Married her. Build a life with her. Tina. His Tina

And even now, standing in the painful space between what was and what might be ending, he clung to that history like a lifeline-because everything else felt far too dangerous to touch. "Thank you" And he meant it, every single word.

--------------

Nervously taking another hit of his cigarette, Smee stuck his other hand in his pocket. The air was crisp, swiping at his skin unapologetically. He still didn't know whether or not harboring James at his house for a few days would be the best idea, but he couldn't possibly turn away a friend in need. He didn't have many to begin with, but all the same, James had always been much more than a friend to him.

And yet, that was precisely the problem. Old habits died hard, and old feelings died harder.

"Sure, sure… but, um.. we-well, I uh… well I didn't drive here. Car's in the shop… I don't suppose I could… catch a ride? Maybe?" As soon as he asked, he realized that James may not be ready to go right at that second. He had assumed that he had all of his things packed and ready, which felt foolish, now, and immediately he started to back track.

"Unless you— I mean you probably don't even— don't even have a bag, o-o-or anything… Sorry, I can just get a taxi, it's alright. And well, you can… you can come over whenever." Smee realized that he was rambling, not even giving James a chance to say anything. He took another drag to calm himself down, flicking the ashes.

--------------

“Yeah, sure!” James answered quickly—almost too quickly—as if the question hadn’t even finished leaving William’s mouth before he jumped on it. “Of course you can ride with me.” He motioned vaguely toward the back of the building. “My car’s in the lot behind us… unless someone finally stole it.” He tried to joke, offering a weak smile as he crushed out his cigarette with the heel of his boot.

But the smile faded the moment William started to retreat, to gently talk himself out of accepting the offer. James felt something drop unpleasantly low in his stomach.

“Will—” The name slipped out before he could stop himself, soft and familiar. He almost winced at the sound of it. He hadn’t called him that in ages except in moments that felt… closer. More private. Old habits, apparently, didn’t die at all.

“I’ve got my bag in the car too,” he continued, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Packed it this morning. I was gonna head over to Terence’s if you turned me down.” His tone made it clear he wasn’t thrilled about that backup plan. Yes, Terence was Tina’s best friend—and yes, James had history there too. Not as messy as with Smee, but the kind of history people in their circle never fully forgot.

The difference was: he’d never slept with Terence.

He had slept with William. And that changed everything about moments like this.

--------------

This was weird. He was being weird. Why couldn't he just talk to James like normal? Why did there have to be this... tension? This unspoken uncertainty? He hated it, but at the same time, he didn't know what to do about it. Seeing James and Tina fight like this just months after their wedding, it was confusing, and he didn't know which side to take. No, he did know, technically, but he also didn't want to be involved. As much as he cared about James, he also feared Tina somewhat the same amount.

Still... James had so readily and eagerly said yes to giving him a ride that he thought maybe he was overthinking everything far too much. When James finally admitted that he already had a bag packed, Smee paused, staring at him blankly. Oh. He wasn't sure if that was better, or worse somehow. How long had he been planning this? Was it truly only since this morning? "Oh. Okay," he slowly nodded. Was this a bad idea? Maybe. But he couldn't deny that there was a part of him that deeply and truly missed his friend, so maybe that was why he said yes.

"We-well, I er— s'ppose we can go, whenever you're ready, then."

--------------

James nodded, falling into step beside William as they made their way toward the car. Their footsteps echoed softly in the quiet night, the kind of silence that wasn’t uncomfortable but carried a weight of all the things neither of them had said in months—maybe years. He found himself glancing at William every so often, the porch light catching on the lines of his face, the familiar slope of his shoulders. So much had changed, yet somehow William still moved with that steady, grounded calm that had always anchored James in ways he didn’t like admitting.

When they reached the car, James unlocked it and pulled the passenger door open for him—an old habit from days when they spent far more time together. Just as William stepped forward, James heard himself speaking before he could talk himself out of it.

“How are you doing, William?”

The question hung between them, rawer than he intended, almost startling in its sincerity. He hadn’t asked that in a long time—much longer than a good friend should. The realization hit him hard, settling like a stone in his stomach. He felt like a crappy friend, honestly. Someone who had gotten too tangled in his own life, his own mess, to notice anything outside of it. But he didn’t take the words back. He couldn’t.

He slipped into the driver’s seat, hands resting on the steering wheel as he waited for William to climb in beside him. The scent of the leather, the faint lingering smell of smoke on his jacket, the quiet—all of it wrapped around the moment, stretching it out just enough that James felt the ache of it.

The drive itself was easy. Familiar. The roads to William’s place came back to him almost automatically; muscle memory guided him through the turns. He remembered taking this route countless times before—late-night visits, shared dinners, weary commutes after long shifts. Back then, it had felt like second nature to show up at William’s door.

And when they arrived… James’s heart clenched. Hard. The house looked exactly the same, and that sameness hit him with the force of a wave. Memories rushed in—him and William sitting on the floor with takeout, laughing over something stupid; the soft glow of lamps during winter nights; the quiet comfort of simply being there, breathing the same air, knowing he wasn’t alone.

But now those memories tangled with others—Tina waiting at home, Tina smiling in the early days, Tina flinching in the later ones. The two sets of memories crashed together inside him, stirring up something messy and conflicted.

Why was he feeling this way? Why did stepping back into William’s orbit tug at old wounds he thought had long since scarred over?

The answer was simple. Painfully simple. Because he had never confessed. And because he had never gotten closure with Smee.

He had buried those feelings so deeply he’d convinced himself they were gone. And maybe they had faded—but they had never fully died. Not when he carried the ghost of them silently through the years, pretending they’d meant nothing. Not when he’d built a life with someone else without ever once acknowledging the foundation he’d laid beforehand. Standing here again—with William, with the past, with everything unresolved—James felt the truth rise up inside him like a tide he hadn’t been prepared for.

--------------

Extinguishing his cigarette, Smee followed James back to his car, hands stuffed into his pockets, silently walking in step with with him. He focused on the sounds of their feet as they walked, steady, and soft. The air was cool, producing a light stinging sensation on his cheeks. While he would have been content to revel in the silence, James's voice broke him out of his little trance, and he blinked slowly. That was a bit of a loaded question, he felt. One that he hadn't been asked by anyone in a while. "Oh— well.... I'm okay, I s'ppose..." he answered, rather meekly. "Been k-keeping myself b-busy."

After a moment, he finally brought his head up to look at James, flicking down to the other man's shoes, and then back up to meet his eyes. "And um... well, what about... you know..." He didn't want to force James to talk about it if he didn't want to, but he was also curious to know whether this was one of those off limit topics. Better to get that out of the way now, he figured.

He quietly climbed into the car, and got settled, folding his hands in his lap as they took off. His gaze moved all about as they headed back to his house. Very rarely during their drive did he look back over his shoulder at James, opting to focus on the scenery around them. When they finally arrived, Smee hopped out of the car, fumbling in his pockets for his keys. It'd been a while, he was realizing, since he'd had James over. On one hand, he was sort of nervous about it, but the other part of him couldn't help fixating on old times, and getting a bit... nostalgic.

"One moment," he pleaded, trying to find the right key. Unlocking the door, William opened it enough to let James in first, gesturing politely. "Do you want any coffee, tea, o-or anything?" He didn't have much of anything else, but he could look around, if necessary.

--------------

James paused, fingers drumming against his knee, the fabric of his worn jeans pilling beneath his fingertips. "Busy is...good, I suppose. Are you—seeing anyone these days?" The question hung between them in the stale air of William's cramped living room, and James immediately regretted asking, his mouth going dry. What right did he have to William's personal life anymore?

"Tina?" James said, filling the silence with what seemed the obvious answer, his voice cracking slightly on her name. "She's..." He swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing visibly. "About as well as I am, which isn't saying much. It's complicated." For the first time, he voiced the fear that had been gnawing at him like a persistent toothache—that she was already gone, even while he desperately clung to what remained, like holding sand in a clenched fist.

"Tea would be nice. Or water. Anything's fine, really." He glanced at the dusty coffee table between them, avoiding William's penetrating gaze.

--------------

"Hmm? Oh— no, no." He left it at that. Smee hadn't been seeing anyone for a while, now. In fact, he didn't really have an interest in it these days. It was becoming more evident that there had been a lot that they hadn't really spoken about for a while. He supposed that was what happened when people went about their lives. James seemed to be doing decently before this recent tiff with him and Tina, and Smee... well... he was picking up the pieces after going down a bad path.

"I see," he nodded, slowly. "Well... If you wanted to talk about it," his sentence drifted off, like leaving a door open for James to decide whether he wanted to close it or walk through. It wasn't exactly his place to pry into James's relationship, but he also wanted to try and be a good friend. He'd been avoiding James and Tina lately, and was starting to think that wasn't the best move. "I can put tea on," he nodded. Quickly he put a kettle on to boil, and then rummaged through his cupboards to try and find something to snack on. All he managed to configure were some crackers and cheese, putting them on a platter and bringing them over.

"I dunno if you're m-more hungry than that, b-b-but I could make something, or we could order..." He gave a small shrug, sitting on the floor in the living room, legs folded crisscross under him. "How are you?"

--------------

“No?” James echoed, blinking at William as if the answer genuinely caught him off guard. He didn’t know why it surprised him so much—maybe because, in James’s eyes, William wasn’t just a good guy. He was steady. Kind. Patient in the way people rarely were anymore. Someone who deserved the world, and someone who deserved to be cared for properly.

The same way James had once deserved Tina. The same way he had once believed he was cared for.

But Tina couldn’t look at him the same anymore. Not since… everything. Not since he had slipped off his wedding band with shaking fingers, unable to bear the weight of the metal, the meaning, the guilt. That single action—small, private, done in silence—felt like a betrayal even though he hadn’t spoken a word. He could still imagine the hurt in Tina’s eyes, even though she hadn’t seen it happen.

And yet that ring had felt like a chain. A reminder of all the ways he was failing. All the ways he didn’t measure up.

A week away from her… He needed that. Needed the distance, the quiet, the space to breathe and think without the constant pressure of her expectations—or his own. “There is so much to say and yet—” James exhaled shakily, running a hand through his hair as if trying to tug clarity from the roots. “I don’t know where I went wrong.”

He did know, though. Or at least he knew the blame circled back to him every time. He just couldn’t find the exact point where things had cracked. Everything felt foggy, like trying to piece together a puzzle when half the pieces were missing and the rest were smudged beyond recognition.

Maybe it was him. Maybe it was always him.

After a moment, he forced a fragile smile, trying to pull the conversation away from the heavy places it kept slipping toward. “It’s fine, William,” he said softly, almost gently, as if he didn’t want to add to the weight between them. “This is enough. Really.” He hesitated, searching William’s face as if grounding himself there.

“If you want… I can get some groceries tomorrow,” James offered, almost shyly. “And I can cook for you? Make something decent. Something warm.” As though caring for someone else—even a little—might help him figure out how to care for himself again.

--------------

Although he couldn’t begin to imagine what James must have been going through, he knew that it was probably breaking him in more ways than one. “Well— maybe it’s not the best time t-to think if over yet,” he shrugged. Maybe it would be better for James to take a few days to reflect, and then he would be able to get it off of his chest. Not that Smee was trying to shift the conversation elsewhere, but it maybe was too raw to talk about now.

Finally, Smee allowed himself to meet James’s gaze, and while it felt nice to look at his friend, there was also an ache that came with it, tied to many different things. The nostalgia of when they used to do this sort of thing often, staying up all hours of the night talking and drinking, laughing and smiling. And… of course, other things… but that was a lifetime past now. Then there was also the very obvious pain of seeing his best friend in despair. It was selfish to be reflecting on past actions when his friend was in such an emotional state. Especially when those past memories involved them being intimate.

“Oh— You don’t have to, but that would be nice,” he admitted. It wasn’t that he didn’t know how to cook, he was decent enough at it, but he never really had someone take care of him like that. Not in a very long time. “I’d like that, actually,” he decided. “Maybe we could go together?”

--------------

James nodded slowly. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to hold the conversation—he did—but when your mind is already a mess, every word feels heavier than it should, every thought harder to line up neatly. Logic slips through your fingers in those moments, no matter how hard you try to grip it. So he noticed what William was doing, the gentle pivot, the careful redirection away from sharper edges. And he appreciated it more than he could comfortably say. James knew William wasn’t changing the subject out of convenience or avoidance; he was doing it for him. That realization settled something tight in his chest.

“I would be honored,” James said, and there was no exaggeration in it. He meant every word. William wasn’t just a past lover tucked away in memory—he was James’s closest friend, the one constant that had survived everything else. James would do just about anything to see that man happier, lighter, more at ease in the world. Anything… except the one thing neither of them dared name.

“Yes, we certainly could get groceries together,” he added easily, the agreement coming without hesitation. The idea didn’t bother him at all. If anything, it felt grounding—simple, ordinary, safe. A small shared task, no expectations attached. Sometimes, that was more than enough.

William SmeeAPP — 12/26/2025 5:44 PMSmee could not remember the last time that someone had offered to do anything substantial for him. At least, not without him asking for assistance. He was always the one putting offers out there, but seldom -if at all- receiving. Why shouldn't he take James up on the offer? You know why, a voice from deep in his thoughts attempted to scratch its way to the surface. He bit his tongue, though, and focused on the present.