FicWad

Some say, now suffer all the children
And walk away a savior,
Or a madman and polluted
From gutter institutions...

I walked uncertainly through the building Pete and I had walked through only yesterday, the butterflies in my stomach hardcore dancing, like they were in a mosh pit or something.

My Chemical Romance's CD must have been playing, because I kept hearing Gerard's voice drifting in and out of announcements the annoyingly perky secretary kept putting over the intercom. And it was making me feel worse and worse as the lyrics went by.

Don't you breathe for me,
Undeserving of your sympathy,
Cause there ain't no way that I'm sorry for what I did.

My throat clenched up and I balled my fists up at my side. I'd tried to dress a little casually, not over-the-top. Maybe a little too casual, since the secretary had looked up and down at my black and white checkered Vans, my jeans, my Clandestine belt, and my plain black T-shirt, since she sniffed and went to type Mr. William Beckett an e-mail.

I walked down the hall, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear, and stood to face his door.

And through it all
How could you cry for me?
Cause I don't feel bad about it.
So shut your eyes,
Kiss me goodbye,
And sleep.
Just sleep.

The hardest part is letting go of
Your dreams.

Tears came to my eyes a little, and I blinked them back as I knocked on the door.

I heard a muffled "come in" respond from the other side of the thick wooden door. I turned the handle slowly and walked in, shutting it carefully behind me as I took in the surroundings again.

William was looking at his computer screen with a far-off look in his eyes. He wore his red framed glasses, that I'd only seen him wear at my job interview. He was in another blazer, but in jeans and identical shoes.

As I stood there, looking at him, he blinked up and looked at me, then dropped his head to the desk.

Oh, boy.

I kept standing there. After a few minutes, he picked his head up again, and stared at me.

I tried to swallow, but it felt like my throat had lost all ability to form saliva or any kind of other liquid. It was as dry as a desert. Finally I opened my mouth and said "hi." It came out all scratchy, like I had a cold or was about to lose my voice completely.

Then, the unexpected happened.

As I stood there, about to turn around and leave, Will got up and pulled me into an embrace. He laid his chin on the top of my head (he was way taller than me) and looked down at me.

"I am so sorry."

I blinked back tears and looked up at him. "It was my fault," I said, pulling away and sitting down in the chair in front of his desk. He stood next to me, but then moved and sat on his desk.

"I think it was our fault," he said, and I nodded.

"So what do we do?" I asked him, picking at my index fingernail.

He sighed. "I've been thinking about it since last night..." his voice trailed off as he stared out the window. He had a ground floor office, and he suddenly fell off the desk as he was looking out it.

"What's wrong?" I asked worriedly as I helped him to his feet. He'd gone white, and as he picked up his glasses I could see his hand was shaking.

"Wentz. He's on his way inside."

Oh. Shxt.