Will had been called oblivious all his life. Dense, by some. Clueless. Completely and utterly blind to what was happening right in front of him. All of the above. And yet, it had never really bothered him, mostly because it had never yet – as everyone always said it would – come back to bite him on the ass.

The closest Will had ever come to being hurt by his own obliviousness was during freshman year, with that whole Royal Pain thing – and that had actually worked out great, right? He'd gotten his powers that year, self-confidence, his first girlfriend (even if that didn't quite work out) and a brand-new best friend. After that prime example of positive reinforcement, why would Will ever even want to stop being oblivious, let alone actually try?

Simple. He wouldn't. Didn't.

Besides, Warren was the exact opposite of oblivious, and he always brought Will out of it, ever since the first time he'd said, "Dude, you're so stupid. She's totally into you." He'd always been there to humble Will, just with his presence. To bring Will smashing out of his little world of birds and clouds, straight back down to earth with just one sardonic look. With Warren around, Will could always count on one person not to hold him up to any standards or look to him for the answers. He could be around someone who didn't even have any compunctions about just getting up and walking away – forcing Will to make a real effort, when usually it was unconsciously the other way around.

Warren always told Will not to pity him. He wasn't nice: he ignored Will, walked away from him, barely talked to him, distanced himself from Will both physically and emotionally in a whole slew of different ways – and he always called Will on his bullshit. That's why he was Will's best friend.

So what wasn't Warren telling him?

After all, Will wasn't stupid. Not the brightest bulb perhaps, but not dumb either. He knew some things.

Will knew that his parents still didn't trust Warren, let alone like him. It was the main reason that he always invited Warren over to his house, apart from the obvious reason of liking his best friend's company.

Will knew that almost everyone at Sky High – even some of the teachers, which was pretty freaking disappointing, to be honest – thought Warren was evil. Even after everything, they thought he was destined to be a supervillian, and that was why they were always giving the two of them weird looks, whispering, and laughing at what they thought was Will's naïveté. It only made Will angry, made him press closer on Warren's heels, made him try to initiate more contact, made him talk louder and treasure every moment when Warren smiled at him. Because that, if anything, ought to prove that they were genuine friends.

Will knew that his group of friends were probably the only people in the school who, even if they didn't believe that he was evil, actually liked Warren. He was glad for it. But even around them, he'd gotten so much into the habit of overdoing his friendship with Warren – of proving it – that he kept it right up. Did so, in fact, even when no one else was around to see.

It had become second nature for Will to tag along after Warren, to look up to him and always strive for just a little bit more of his attention. Warren didn't make it easy, god knew – but Will had his moments of success, and they were more than enough to fan the fire. Every smile, every word from Warren was precious, all the more so since they were so rare. Will didn't get how no one else saw that – and they called him blind.

Warren truly was an amazing guy, one no one understood. Will wanted to be the first, wanted it more than pretty much anything else. And he thought he was getting there.

He didn't, of course, understand Warren yet – that was the work of a lifetime, and they had only been friends for two and a half years (Warren claimed two, but Will had always thought Homecoming counted).

He didn't understand Warren, no, but Will had gained more insight than anyone else. He was the one people went to when Warren confused them. He understood the sign-language of Warren's face, the subtle meaning in his eyebrow lifts and levels of scowl. And because of all this, because he wasn't entirely oblivious after all and because Will knew Warren best, Will was positive something was going on.

But Warren wouldn't tell him what it was.

Will didn't get it. He waited, but after a week of the weird vibe remaining unmentioned, he knew Warren didn't plan on telling him at all. It had to have been going on for a while before Will noticed, and if Warren hadn't told him yet, he never would.

But why not? Warren had never protected Will from anything before – quite the opposite, in fact. Even after they were friends, Warren had always taken pleasure from putting Will into as many dangerous and/or humiliating experiences as possible, then standing by and laughing.

Warren could, perhaps, have been keeping whatever-it-was a secret for someone. If Warren made a promise, he could always be counted on to keep it, so it was a good theory. Except that there was no reason for anyone to be hiding anything from Will. And besides, most of the weirdness came from Warren himself.

The only other real possibility was that Warren, himself, was hiding something. This wasn't new, of course; Warren's life was shrouded in mystery, to the point that Will had yet to even see his house, despite two and a half years of very close friendship. But for Will to notice Warren actively trying to hide something – that was new.

New, and strange, and Will intended to get to the bottom of it, if it was the last thing he did.

Yes, a third and final installment will be forthcoming. When, I do not know. But it will happen.

Thank you to thefrogg from Livejournal, who betaed this for me.