Will O Wisp | YA Novella

Chapter 10: Trying and Failing

In the evenings, when they aren't practicing and lay idle in the hotel room like sloths, Will believes that the silence between them is actually refreshing. They most always are in synchronized positions—in bed with one hand holding a smartphone and the other massaging a sore muscle. The only noise is the steady hum of the air conditioner.

Will has to admit that this room is much nicer than their usual accommodations. Above, a chandelier hybrid hangs between the parted twin beds, something to focus on when Ocean is out in the village—but the lights are blinding and remind him of a few days ago. The bug-eyed lense and the cameraman. A basket of real fruit is set out on the dining table, but Will keeps choosing pride over reason when refusing the impulse to ask Ocean to fetch an orange. It's an annoyance and reminder of how helpless he's become. The carpet is a plushy maroon, but Will is banned from even standing on it, keeping his knee elevated on a double stack of pillows. His knee still cries out, but groaning from it is out of the question when Ocean could possibly hold that against him.

Maybe Ocean was right when saying that all he does is complain.

"What does the village look like?" Will asks.

Ocean locks his smartphone with a telling click. He sighs and places the device beneath his pillow. "It's nice, Will."

Will keeps his eyes on the orange, round and perfect and taunting him. "Tell me more." All I've seen of it is the face of this building and these four walls.

Ocean turns on his side. Of course, Will can't copy the motion—not if he wants this minor tear to heal quickly. But out of the corner of his eye, the Irish boy has a lazy expression, showing a full display of black jeans and a white undershirt. His bleached-blonde hair is windswept from his trek to the nearby cafeteria, and just by looking at his bare feet Will can pinpoint the exact places that are aching from constant practice. They copy the same motions enough for that to be true. "What do you want to know?"

"It's four building's all connected with air bridges. Athletes are wandering them all the time and meeting up in the middle floor lounges. There's a cafeteria and swimming pool in between everything—all indoor and heated. And a movie theatre too, but everyone would rather stay in their rooms to watch the Olympic highlights anyway."

After a pause, Ocean stretches then stands, heading to the fruit basket. He takes the same orange that Will has been eyeing for an hour and tosses it to his partner.

Then he heads to the bathroom without a word, not even bothering to lock the door before the water begins flowing. A stupid, weak pressure begins to build behind Will's eyeballs, a different type of pain than the one strangling his kneecap.

He lets out a breath he didn't know was being held, allowing him to groan—not just from the ache but from the possibility of a failed Olympics. The USA figure skating team has already surrendered, with no one to skate in the tomorrows event—the same-sex long program. How could it have happened more perfectly wrong? 

Will peels a section of the orange and takes a bite, trying and failing not to think.