The words struck a little too close to home, pulling an awkward smile and soft scoff from him.
“Abandonment requires expectation.” He quickly turned away burying his head in the book he was holding, not wanting to be under Hannibal’s watchful gaze.
No. Abandoned wasn’t quite the right word. He just knew people would always leave.
His mother hadn’t bothered to hang around. His father had tried the best he knew how. It couldn’t have been easy with a child like him. His father had even tried to find a mother figure for Will. A few women had come and gone over the years. Trips to the ice cream parlour and the local fair dissolved into arguments and slamming doors. They never wrote or called.
Moving constantly had left a slew of half formed friendships and long forgotten names. Promises of keeping in touch were quickly broken. They were all a blur to him now.
There had been few friends during college and beyond. He knew he was at least partially to blame. His knowledge that he was better left alone conflicted deeply with his need to have a friend.
The few girlfriends that came, left quickly. His gifts weren’t conducive to healthy relationships. Women quickly grew tired of waking up to him screaming from nightmares or him tuning out mid conversion, lost in thoughts of crime scenes.
He would speak to his father every Sunday night 8pm without fail. When his father hadn’t answered the phone one evening, Will knew.
He had been the only one to attend his father’s funeral. On the drive home from the cemetery, he had found his first stray dog.
After that, his pack grew and he pushed people further and further away. It wasn’t all that difficult. If he wasn’t teaching, he could go days, even weeks without talking to anyone. No one ever called. No one ever wrote. He received a single invitation each year to the faculty Christmas party. He always declined.
No one was exactly lining up to be his friend. Why would they?
Will looked up at Hannibal. Would he even still be here if Jack hadn’t asked him to keep an eye on Wills mental state? Is that what Will was to him? An obligation? A case study? A lab rat? To be tested and discarded when he was no longer useful. Or was it something else entirely?
Plot: Short series inspired by Imaginingcriminalmind’s imagine [HERE]: Imagine Hotch dating your sister, but falling for you instead. Notes: short series, babysitting jack, sister’s second date, fluff Word Count: 919 words Part 1: [HERE] Followers: @jessiedangerous
So when I was approached to be amongst those honouring Scarlett this afternoon, I was genuinely…pissed off. I was furious. I was super skeptical. I’m paraphrasing, but I was told it should be something like, “Oh, two to three minutes on your relationship with her, why she’s deserving, etc.”
And I’m like, “What the fuck. Really?” Isn’t it pretty clear that she and I are star players on the greatest franchise team of all time: The Avengers? Or has everyone been binge-watching Netflix for so damn long that they’ve forgotten about the thriving film industry that’s maybe in some jeopardy or like maybe phased out by - I don’t know - VR and short subject mobile content? Right, isn’t that what we’re all supposed to be caring about now?
And then I realized - and this really got me going - I’m like, wait a minute. Now I’m supposed to sell her as deserving? When it was you who asked me to show up here extensively because you deemed her worthy? But now I have to make a case for you?
What the fuck.
And then I thought, dude, you’ve been on this bullet-proof coffee diet for nine days straight. Why don’t you eat an apple. Or something. Maybe a rice cake.
Which I did about forty minutes ago, and now I’m delighted to be here.
I mean, you know Scarlett. She’s completely unique while remaining somehow accessible. She’s one of the boys, but she’s an essential feminist. She’s the top grossing actress of all time, which is - trust me - a form of spiritual attainment. And also, you know, she’s a mom. She’s a working mom, to be sure, who planned to have a baby with the right guy at the right time, as much as those three elements are impossible to influence.
And I’ve known Scarjo…
Scarjo and I go back to…
You know when they asked me to come here for Scarjo, I…actually, I’ve been cleared to call her that until 2:15PM, so I’m gonna take advantage of it.
I knew she was involved in Planned Parenthood. Not in a “Put me on a council slash board and all designer t-shirt or something” way, but in the same measured passion that she applies to whatever’s important to her. She’s utilized her world-wide visibility and unwavering energy to educate and mobilize public support of sexual and reproductive health and rights. She’s a true ambassador for women’s health initiatives. She’s grown up in the public eye. She’s travelled the world. She’s consistently developed as a performer, avoiding the pitfalls of fame and privilege.
That’s huge. That’s a big stop gap right there.
I was just reflecting, because when I was her age, I just joined the felony of the month club. It was a subscription that auto-renewed for the better part of a decade.
I just made this whole thing about me. Something wrong with me.
But honestly, and most impressively, this is what really blows my mind: She woke up this morning. She brushed her teeth. She had a coffee and a light breakfast. She read the paper. She used the restroom - did number one. Returned some email. She made a call. She sat in the make up chair for the better part of an hour. She put on this classy outfit. She chose between two pairs of heels. Did last looks. Left her hotel room, entered the hallway with one security and her publicist, walked down the hallway, pressed the down button on the center elevator, engaged in witty banter with a few guests that joined the car on the seventh floor, exited said elevator, and arrived on time at the venue.
All without employing any manner of social media whatsoever.
And now - and nobody does this as well as I do - I’m gonna throw it to the package.
Omg, but Sonny sulking because he planned to make a nice, surprise, romantic breakfast for Rafael, but Rafael had to sneak out early for an emergency meeting with the DA, so Sonny’s breakfast gets ruined.
Rafael coming home and seeing Sonny on the couch with a plate of half-eaten pancakes in front of him, asleep, because trying to stay up until Rafael got home didn’t work.
Rafael chuckling and taking Sonny’s dish to the kitchen, clearing it off, cuddling up to his sleeping boyfriend on the couch, ruined breakfast long forgotten.
“So?” Stiles sputters, kicking his shoes into the corner and locking the front door behind him. He’d whipped out his phone the second he’d pulled up to the house, and miracle among miracles, Scott actually answered. Of course, he’s not so pleased about that now. “My dad thinks Derek and I are dating, Scott. Did you miss that part?”