This one took longer than the others, but I'm actually incredibly proud of it. Especially the last section. Anyway, sorry for the delay but hey at least this one is almost 5k words, right? I'm going to be starting a 24 fics in 24 days challenge soon, though it might end up being more like 24 fics in 12 twelve days and then another 12 of just editing and procrastinating because unfortunately that's just how I roll. Yes, I did just say that.

.Don't

When Will's older, sliding down against the wall because his legs are shaking too hard to hold him up anymore and he's pulling his knees into his chest like they can numb the pain he's brought on himself, he'll think of now. He'll feel hot tears burn down his cheeks and won't move to wipe them away, he'll stare at the ceiling and laugh at himself because he could have stopped all of this, he could have fixed it before everything fell apart, and his mind will come back to this moment, among many others.

He'll remember curling against Jem, sobbing for the sister he would never see again, and laughing at him across the lunch table. He'll think of hushed words to Magnus in the dark of his living room and the hopeful look on Tessa's face when he asked her to go with him to the diner just down the road. He'll look back on this moment, this instant of fighting back tears and wondering how the world could be so cruel, of all-consuming fear and immeasurable worry, and he will wonder if even then it was too late already.

He'll wonder if he could have stopped all of this then, if only he hadn't been so blind.

Their tenth year of high school isn't a particularly remarkable one when it starts. They've already gone through the buzz of their first year so there's nothing to be excited about and their classes are hardly any different than before. So, all in all, Will deems it to be a quiet year for once.

He really should have known better.

Jessamine, Jem's foster sister, starts her first year there and brings with her a mass of trouble in the form of drama Will would much rather just avoid. She gives Tessa's brother moony eyes the first week or so, an action that results in Will's girlfriend constantly being in a frenzied state of worry he can't draw her out of no matter how hard he tries. And then, with one careful and unreadable look cast between Jem and Will, Jessie turns her attention to glaring viciously at him and making sure he suffers as much as she can make him.

At first, he chalks it off to her being her usual dramatic self; she'd never really liked him anyway. It's not until she starts trying to keep him from her foster brother that he realizes there might actually be a reason here, that she might not just be doing this to watch him suffer.

He doesn't mention it to Jem, who remains completely oblivious to Jessie's antiques, mainly because he sees him so much less often now. It's odd and unusual and Will is in no way capable of getting used to the fact that his best friend might not be his best friend anymore, but he tries to brush it off and focus back on the matter at hand because maybe, just maybe, Jessamine actually has a reason for doing what she is. It'd be a first, but Will's a firm believer in the idea that everything starts somewhere.

"Do you hate me?" he asks her when he manages to corner her by the water fountain after the rest of their friend group has already scattered off to their respective classes. Jessie's glare sharpens, her shoulders tense as she stares him down, but she makes no move to push him away.

"No," she snaps harshly, but the fury behind her cold brown eyes says otherwise.

"Really?" he replies disbelievingly. "It doesn't seem like that."

Her glare hardens as she forces her hands between them and moves to push them solidly against his shoulder. Will thinks she's about to push him away, the angry press of her hands against him telling him a story in a language he can't read, but she doesn't. Instead, she curls sharp nails into his skin and snaps, "I don't hate you. I hate what you're doing."

Rearing back in confusion, Will stares at her in surprise. What he's doing? He can't think of anything he's done to her that would make her so angry at him, but clearly she doesn't feel the same. "What do you mean?" he tries, his voice sticking in his throat like glue because somehow he has a horrible feeling about this.

Jessamine scoffs, rolling her eyes in a manner that suggests she thinks he's the dumbest person on the planet, and sneers at him crudely before slipping past him. "Can't you see it?" she throws over shoulder, flipping blond ringlets back as she turns her head to shoot him one last spiteful look.

"See what?" Will demands and then there's a moment where her eyes soften just a tiny little bit and something unreadable passes through them, but it's gone as fast as it comes and Will's inclined to think he's simply imagined the whole thing.

"Stop hurting him," she says quietly, her voice so soft he almost misses it, and then she's gone and Will is left wondering what on earth she meant because, honestly, he has no idea.

Jem isn't in school that day, though, so he sends him a text instead to inform him that his sister is insane and then heads off to the math class he was supposed to be in ten minutes ago. He doesn't think much of it, in the end, and it's not long before he forgets about it entirely.

He doesn't even stop to think who the 'he' she mentioned is.

9:06: Why aren't u in school again?

9:07: Dude, ur missing so much

9:10: How r u going to catch up?

9:42: Where are u?

10:57: Jem?

11:03: Hellooo

12:14: Answer me Jem

1:49: Cmon u haven't talked to me in days

3:19: Can I call you?

3:19: I'm calling

3:21: Dude pick up

3:45: Are u dead?

5:16: I think Tessa's mad at me

5:54: Oh no it's all good she was mad at Nate

5:55: I think him and ur sister might have a thing going on

7:34: Cmon Jem I'm getting worried

8:43: U better be in school tomorrow

8:44: Uve already missed a week and a half

9:37: Seriously, what's going on?

11:52: U know what I give up

11:53: See u in school if u ever bother to come

2:48: Hey, Jem?

2:48: We're okay, right?

The Branwell residence could easily be considered a mansion with it's victorian style spires rising high into the air above the third floor of the manor and wide paned glass windows stretching for seemingly endless meters to form the front. Will hasn't been here much in the time he's known them, nowhere near as often as Jem's been over to his house, so it takes him a minute to locate the cobblestone path winding across the perfectly manicured lawn to the intricately carved double doors and perfectly kept wooden porch.

Admittedly, he's more nervous than he should be. After all, this is Jem. He's Will's best friend; he's not going to mind that he's shown up unannounced. God knows he's done it himself to Will on more than one occasion.

Still, he can't shake the feeling that maybe he isn't welcome here, that maybe Jem really doesn't want to see him, that he's been ignoring his texts and phone calls for the past month for a reason. But he can't just accept that his best friend has suddenly dropped off the map entirely without a word so he steps forward and presses a clammy finger against the doorbell, rocking back on his heels as it rings through the house.

There's the sounds of footsteps thudding down hardwood stairs before the door flies open to reveal a head of perfectly curled blond hair. Jessamine scowls when she sees him, her brown eyes darkening to a near black.

"What are you doing here?" she spits, giving him a look that would send lesser men running for the hills.

Will, never one to be outmatched, gives her a look of equal hateful force. "I'm here to see Jem. Why else would I come?"

Her scowl seems to darken even more at that before she flips bouncy locks of blond hair over her shoulder and moves to better guard the entrance. "Well he doesn't want to see you," she snaps, her lips tilting into a condescending smirk.

He tries to ignore the pang of hurt her words send through him, telling himself that she's lying to him to protect her brother from some perceived threat he seems to pose. He tells himself she means to hurt him, that it's not Jem who doesn't want to see him but Jessamine who doesn't want him to see her brother. He tells himself it's not true, but there's a part of him that still believes it.

"If that's true," he says carefully, stepping forward to shove his way past her, "James can tell me himself." Maybe it's the use of his best friend's full name that finally has Jessie relenting, moving aside to slam the door shut behind him and watch with an unreadable expression as he heads up the stairs, but Will's long since given up on trying to understand the brown-eyed shedevil.

He's at the top of the stairs already when she calls out again, her voice loud in the echoing silence of the gargantuan house. "Will!" she yells, drawing his attention reluctantly back to her. "If you hurt him, I'll kill you."

Will doesn't stop to ponder her words, offering only a semi-acknowledging nod as he steps down the hallway to Jem's closed door. It's another oddity to see the dark wood barring his passage; Jem almost always keeps his door open when he's the only one inside. Still, he tries not to be too thrown off by it and raises his hand to knock as he had on the front door.

"Jem? It's me, I'm coming in so you better not be changing or anything." Not waiting for an answer, or maybe just knowing somewhere in his gut that there isn't going to be one, Will twists the knob and creaks the door open, moving inside as he lets it fall shut behind him. It's not until he turns around, flicking the light switch on to illuminate the room, that he realizes something is different here.

Maybe it's the huge beeping machine beside the bed, or the IV bag hooked up to the still figure of his best friend lying prone at the center of it all that clues him in. Then again, it could just be the new rug on the floor.

"Jem?" he croaks, his voice sticking painfully to the constricting sides of his throat. The boy on the bed doesn't move, the eerie beeping filling the room doesn't change rhythm, and Will suddenly feels like he's just stepped into a nightmare without even realizing it until the truly terrifying part started playing out in front of him.

Taking a hesitant step closer to the bed, Will eyes his friend and the machines around him warily. He notes the dark bag under Jem's eyes, the horrible hollowness to his cheeks that seems to indicate Will could probably count every bone in Jem's body if he weren't hidden under the covers, the unnatural pallor to his cheeks, the way his silver hair sticks to his burning forehead, and it makes him swallow thickly, his heart dropping. No wonder Jem hasn't been in school.

There's a chair poised expectantly by the side of the bed, next to the slowly emptying IV bag, and Will sinks into it bonelessly, his legs shaking too hard now to hold him up. For a long while he doesn't do anything but stare at the best friend he hadn't even noticed was so unwell, so sick, before it was too late. Because it's hard, it is, seeing the one person who's always been there for him so beaten down, teetering on the edge of a fate Will can't even bring himself to think about.

He can feel the tears burning at the backs of his eyes, spilling down his cheeks like liquid fire scorching his mistakes into his skin for all to see. He'd been avoiding Jem before, distancing himself, and now suddenly it feels like he's shot a hole through his own chest for his actions because maybe, just maybe, if he hadn't been so selfish and ignorant and childish he would've noticed something was up sooner. Or maybe Jem would have told him, would have trusted him enough to let him see this part of him.

Maybe that's what hurts him the most though, the thought that he'd distanced himself from Jem to the point where the other boy had felt like he couldn't tell him about this, this huge important thing that's been weighing him down for so long now. And it has been so long, when Will thinks back on it, probably from even before they met or perhaps just after. Because he can see them now, the little hints he'd missed this whole time in his ignorance, like the way Jem always seemed to get out of breath too fast or how he sometimes wouldn't eat, claiming he wasn't hungry. He can see it in the way the silver boy would grasp at railings just a little too desperately sometimes, or the way he would often be too tired to smile with his eyes. He can see it in the growing thinness, the growing paleness, the growing distance from the world around him. As though he was preparing to leave it.

His best friend's hand is cold between his own when he reaches for it, a harsh awakening to the icy truth pulling him away from the warm comfort of his ignorance. He closes his eyes for a pained minute, blinking away the tears distorting his vision as he opens them again, sucking in a sharp breath to stop the sobs he can feel coming on. He doesn't want Jem to wake up and see him crying.

As if on cue, the heart monitor towering over the fragile figure on the bed picks up it's slowing pace, the beats of a return to consciousness filling the stark shadows of Jem's room as silver lashes flutter against paper white skin. For a moment Will's too afraid to move, watching as his friend's eyes trail lazily across the ceiling in a haze of bleary waking. And then the hand he's clutching flexes in his grip, as though testing to see if there's really something holding it and Jem presses his eyes shut hard, sucking in a sharp breath.

"Will?" he tries warily, still not opening his eyes.

Will leans forward to breath warm air over their joined hands, as though trying to further prove his presence. "Yeah," he replies, his voice soft and careful and even he can hear the pitiful hurt and uncertainty resounding so very deeply within it. "It's me."

"What are you—" Jem's words catch in his throat and he swallows roughly before trying again. "What are you doing here?"

"I was worried, Jem. I hadn't heard from you in over a month."

"You shouldn't have come."

"Why? So you could continue to hide this from me?"

"Will—"

"Don't, Jem. Just, please." Will closes his eyes, lifting one hand away from Jem's to rub at his temple. "Don't," he repeats.

Silence falls between them for a long while, stretching thickly through the bitter air around them and latching cruelly onto the hurt resounding in their hearts. Will hates the silence, loathes it with every bit of his breaking being, but for as much as he wants so desperately to break it he can't find any words that won't just make this thing between them worse. It hurts too, knowing that he has no idea what to say to his best friend to make things better, because Jem has always been the one person he never had to watch his words with, apart from the ones echoing in the heart that shouldn't beat so hard for someone he can never have. Will would be lying if he said this wasn't nearly as painful as losing his sister, Ella.

Finally, Jem is the one to break the silence, his voice soft and exhausted as he seems to all but sink into the bed. "I'm sorry," he starts quietly. "I should have told you."

"Yeah," Will agrees, not looking at the weak figure of his best friend. "But I'm sorry too. I should have noticed. I should have payed more attention. I shouldn't have pushed you away, Jem. I was being so stupid, only thinking about my feelings. God, I was so convinced that I was doing the right thing, that it was better that way. I didn't even stop for a second to think about the consequences. I didn't even consider how horrible it would be or how much it would hurt us both. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I— This isn't your fault, Jem. It's mine. Why would you even apologize? I can't..." Will trails off, blinking away the sudden rush of tears. "You couldn't have told me because I was pushing you away. It's not your fault. It's not—" He's sobbing by now, hunching over and pressing the hand that isn't clutching tightly to Jem's against his burning eyes in an attempt to make the tears stop. Because maybe if the crying stops, the pain will too. "It's all my fault."

Jem doesn't say anything at first, always so irritatingly good at listening, at absorbing the information as it comes to him, but Will can feel his concerned gaze like an anchor on his heart, keeping him from sinking too deep into his own misery. "Will," he says softly after another long moment of silence in which Will can't even bring himself to lift his head and meet his best friend's eyes. Jem's hand is gentle as it squeezes his own in a gesture of comfort, his other equally kind as it descends into his hair, long fingers combing through it. He tries not to let it hurt too much, tries to make his heart stop clenching so painfully, but it doesn't take long for him to give up and sink easily into Jem's touch, drawing what comfort he can from this.

"How bad is it?" he asks later, curled up on the bed beside the sickly boy, the new X-Men movie playing out on the screen of the laptop settled over their legs. Neither of them seem to really be paying attention, Will lost in thoughts he'd rather not have and Jem settled with his head on Will's shoulder, eyes closed to the tiring world around them.

He doesn't lift his head or open his eyes, doesn't even move an inch, but Jem's response is still loud in the quiet of the room, drowning out any sounds coming from the laptop. "Bad," is all he says, letting out a harsh breath that warms the side of Will's neck.

"Will you get better?"

A pause, pungent and heavy in the stillness surrounding them. "Sometimes."

"Sometimes?" Will demands, the word like a weight in his throat holding up his aching heart.

"There will be good days, weeks, maybe even months. And there will be bad ones, too."

"Like right now?" His voice sounds accusing even to his own ears, despite his efforts to turn it into something soft, something kind and warm and comforting. He's never been good at that; it's really always been Jem's area of expertise.

"Yeah," his friend replies quietly. "This is— This is the worst I've had."

"But it won't be for long, will it?"

"No. It won't." Another pause, heady and pained as Will's hand clenches against Jem's shoulder where he's wrapped it around the other boy. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I should have told you," Jem whispers, clenching his eyes shut even tighter. "I know you say I couldn't have because you'd been pushing me away, but we both know that's not true. I've had years, Will. And you think that in all that time there was never a single chance to tell you?"

The words push down Will's throat, sticking to the sides and keeping his own from finding their way out. It hurts and maybe Will had really just wanted to blame himself for this because then, if Jem had blamed him too, he could have taken the punishment, the consequence, and used it to repent for the horrible sin of falling so deeply in love with his best friend. Maybe that's what this is really about for him, not the fact that he didn't know.

So instead of arguing with Jem, of disagreeing and continuing to push for Jem to just be mad at him already, he opens his mouth and tells little white lies that sink cruelly into the black shadow suffocating his heart, adding to it's weight. "Yeah," he says. "You should have. Why didn't you? I mean, years, Jem, really? How could you keep this from me? What, did you think I'd stop being your friend just because of this or something? It's good to know you think so highly of me."

"You're angry," Jem notes carefully and Will would laugh if he didn't think it'd ruin his current image because yes, he is angry. He's so angry he can barely think straight, but it's not at Jem for not telling him. No, the only person Will's pissed at right now is himself.

"You think?" he spits anyway, inflicting every ounce of shittiness he can muster into the words because maybe Jem will be hurt. Maybe he'll hate him or at least realize how horrible of a person he is and he'll kick him out. And maybe if Jem kicks him out, if they stop being the friends they are, Will will stop loving him the way he does and everything will be okay again.

Jem sighs heavily and sinks down into the pillows he's propped up against, sliding away from Will. There's a sharp stab at his heart that it causes, Jem moving away from him, but he tells himself that this is what he wanted. He has no right to be hurt. "I did say I was sorry."

Folding his arms over his chest, Will stares blankly at the screen of the laptop, his eyes not even registering the picture playing out on it. "Yeah," he replies weakly. "You did. That's not enough."

"What else is there to say, Will?"

He hesitates, gnawing on his lower lip for a long while before he simply gives up and sinks down into the pillows just as Jem had previously. "I don't know."

Neither of them speak after that, the wordless language between them wrapping around the room and smothering them both in a truth they would much rather not face. The funny thing is, Will isn't even sure what this truth is but it's drowning and suffocating and oh God, how he wishes he could just breathe.

It's only when the noise of the movie finally comes to a halt that Will realizes it's pouring outside, rain tumbling down the windows in angry sheets. He can hear thunder too, lightning cracking across the sky in silver whips that light up the room. Cursing his luck, he shoves himself up off the bed and tugs on the boots he'd previously discarded when he'd moved onto the bed, heading for the closed door and out into the hall.

"You don't have to go," comes Jem voice from behind him and when he turns around to look at him he scowls at the raised eyebrow and pointed look out the window.

"It's just going to get worse," he says, groaning at the fact that he still isn't old enough to have a license and therefore is going to have to walk all the way back to his house. He should have at least brought his bike.

Jem's response is soft, a mumble that barely reaches Will's ears. "Yeah, it is."

Will gets the feeling they're not talking about the storm anymore, if Jem's steady but sad gaze is anything to go by. "Staying isn't going to help," he mutters back, not meeting his friend's piercing grey eyes.

"Leaving is only going to make it worse."

Sighing, Will drops the boot he'd been just about to pull on. "Is it?"

"We both know it, Will. If you leave now it'll never be the same." It feels like an ultimatum, like Jem is telling him if he leaves like this, with them on such unsteady ground, they'll never be able to be anything close to friends again. It's hard, thinking about it like that, especially when Jem has never been one to deal in such harsh terms.

He rubs a hand over his eyes, turns away, paces across the room and back. "What do you want me to say, Jem?" he demands, his voice rising into something close to a yell. "What do you want me to do?"

"Anything, Will. Just don't leave." He's lost now, barely keeping track of the words leaving their mouths, but he plows ahead anyway even though everything in him screams he's not making sense.

"What happens if I stay?"

Jem hesitates. "I don't know."

He stares at him for a long moment that stretches around them in a vibrant shadow of uncertainty, considering what to do. Whatever it is he chooses, he knows that this will be where things change between them.

"Okay," he whispers and climbs back onto the bed. Because no matter what happens from here on out, the thought of losing Jem right now, just like this, is far too hard to bear.

But oh God, he should have known this wouldn't be the worst of it.

Yeah, it's really only going to get worse from here on out. Sorry? Anyway, let me know what you thought in a review!

(Also, for those of you reading BTDT or AWF, the former will probably get an update this week or next and the latter sometime after that.)