The Pretend To Be Agreement

Chapter Thirty-Six (Different Version)

***THIS IS A DIFFERENT VERSION OF CH. 36!! It's the continuing part after ch. 35. I've had many readers not be happy with the chapter, so I took it down and this is the rewritten version that gives you more depth into the situation Grace is in. This chapter follows weeks after Christmas and the progression of Will and how Grace deals with it.

SONG: 'Hollow' by Tori Kelly***

Grace

—One Week Before—

"I really wish you guys weren't leaving today," pouts Vivien as she adds another pancake to my already growing stack. I let out a chuckle as I grab the syrup bottle from off the middle of the table and pours the sticky liquid all over my pancakes, drowning them.

Using my knife and fork, I cut into the stack of six, pulling out a huge piece and putting in my mouth. A low man escapes past my lips as I chew the taste of the food absolutely delicious. If this is Vivien's way of getting us to stay, I might never want to leave.

I stop eating the moment I hear something crash to the floor with a loud thud. It comes from the hallway, near the stairs that lead to the bedrooms. Dropping my fork and knife onto the plate I race out of the dining room and to the hallway, where my eyes land on what had fallen. It was two suitcases—my suitcases to be exact.

It doesn't take me long to scan the area and find Will standing up at the top of the stairs, cheeks flushed red in embarrassment.

My eyebrows scrunch together. "What happened?"

Will shrugs, laughing nervously while scratching the back of his neck. "...Well... I tripped."

For some reason, that didn't feel like the truth. I study his face and notice that he wasn't looking at me—actually, he was trying to look anywhere but me—and he still hasn't shaven the scruff that has now turned into a beard off. He was twitchy and had a goofy smile on his face, but I let it go. Bending down I pick up my suitcases and roll them over to the front door before returning back to the dining room to finish my breakfast, which was now cold.

Will follows in behind shortly after I've sat down. He doesn't come over to the table, but instead to the sink, where he grabs a glass out of the rack and fills it with water from the tap. Leaning against the counter while he chugs down his water, he taps his feet on the ground.

As I'm almost done my breakfast I remember that Will needs to take his medication that the doctor had prescribed when he was allowed to leave the hospital six days ago. They were for pain if Will had any, and I knew he did because he complains about in the middle of the night when I'm sleeping and wake me up.

"Will, did you take your medication?" I ask as he's about to leave the room. He spins around on his heel, almost knocking into the wall as he did, and looks at me, nodding.

"I did, this morning." That's his only answer before he's gone, racing back the stairs. As he did it leaves me confused.

Why would someone who complains so much about having pain be able to do so much?

*

—Week Two—

"Hey, Will!" I shout from my place in the kitchen in our apartment, my hands on an almost empty bottle of my boyfriend's medication. My eyebrows knit together in confusion, not understanding how there's like fifteen tablets left in the container when we just got back from Will's grandparent's place about a week and half ago.