The night prior, at the rollerblading rink, Will had argued with you about the fact that while El had gotten a whole book of letters from you, you had only called him a few times in a whole year. Neither of you had spoken to the other since, which is why when you walked into his bedroom that morning, Will had expected you to have another go at him. Certainly not anything that came next.

"Thanks, by the way. For knocking some sense into me. I was being a total self-pitying idiot." You told him once you'd taken a seat on his bed.

Will paused his packing, taken aback, and glanced your way. "...I didn't say it." He pointed out with a half smile.

"You didn't have to," was your simple reply.

Those few words echoed in his brain several times. It was in moments like these that Will wanted to kiss your face. Kiss you until you gave up on being just friends. But he never did. Probably never would. Because, well... you liked girls. And he certainly wasn't one. The last thing the young man wanted was to scare you away and ruin the friendship that you'd built over the years — especially with how fragile it now seemed — just because he'd given into the urge to kiss you.

In order to keep the worst-case scenario from happening, Will turned his back to you and busied himself with packing his things.

When you brought up the argument you'd had the other night, Will hastily cut in to clarify that he'd forgiven you for snapping at him. (Although he wasn't close to forgiving the fact you'd cut him off for the past year.) "You don't have to say anything. I-I was being a total dick to El. I deserved it." As he spoke, he cautiously kept his gaze strained on the dresser in front of him.