We were sitting on the couch in his living room, with Will nursing a bottle of Diet Coke as I drank my Mountain Dew. His black button-up shirt was not quite touching my faded Nine Inch Nails tee as we sat in a comfortable silence, near other, but not too close.
The Cure's Trilogy DVD was playing, and we were thoroughly absorbed in the set being played by our favorite band. I giggled when Robert Smith did a little dance during the song "Lullaby," and Will laughed at me.
"Freak," he affectionately teased, winking at me and sticking his tongue out when I pretended to look offended. I smiled, loving Will and his quirky endearments. We were both weirdoes, and wouldn't have each other any other way.
Halfway through my favorite song, he leaned over, making me laugh as he sang a bit of it and mimicked the actions Robert was doing on the screen. I hadn't even realized he knew what my favorite part of "Lullaby" was, but he got it right. The man was simply adorable sometimes, I thought, as he quirked an eyebrow at my giggling.
A few more songs into the set, I felt myself dozing off. Will, too, looked pretty tired, and I knew he'd worked late that day. He ran a hand through his light brown hair, effectively mussing it before he leaned against the plus couch, closing his eyes.
The next thing I knew, I was awoken by a muffled buzzing noise and a vibration. I opened my eyes, noticing that the room was eerily quiet since the DVD had stopped. I looked up to see Will's beard, black collar, and the few buttons of the many on the line of them down his chest. Sometime during our nap, he'd leaned back against the arm of the couch, and I'd ended up tucked against him, with my head on his chest. He has an arm wrapped uncharacteristically around me, which was surprising.
I suppose now would be a good time to mention that Will isn't all about close physical proximity, or displays of affection - I'm one of few he tolerates them from. Don't get the wrong impression of him - he's a great friend, he just shows it in other ways, and doesn't especially like to be hugged all the time.
His pager went off again, buzzing between his hip and my stomach. He opened his eyes, removing the offending object from his studded belt and looking at it groggily. The sleepiness disappeared from his features as he suddenly became alert, disentangling himself from me before running from the room.
He returned a few minutes later, wearing his EMT uniform. After hurriedly putting on his shoes, he grabbed his keys and ran out the door, telling me that there was an emergency and he'd been called in. It might take a few hours, but he'd be back as soon as he could, he assured, as the door closed behind him.
I nervously waited for his return, wondering what had happened. It had to have been something serious- he hadn't even had the time to be shocked at our juxtaposition when he'd woken up. I also knew his job was dangerous - the last time he'd told me about a day at work, he'd been tasered and nearly hit with a chair. I grew more and more worried about my heroic friend as time elapsed.
It seemed like hours before William tiredly came through the door. He shut it with a soft 'click' before looking at me with an odd mix of sadness and relief on his face.
"What's wrong?" I asked, rising from the couch.
The unanswered question hung in the air as he crossed the room, wrapping his arms around me in a rare hug. Pulling me close against his chest, he stroked my hair and mumbled something I couldn't quite understand, thought he sounded distraught.
"Emily," he said, withdrawing from the hug slightly to look at me with watery eyes, "please promise me that you'll never drink and drive, or ride with anyone who has."
After I assured him that I wouldn't, he hugged me again, relieved. He still smelled faintly of the sterile supplies they used in the ambulances.
"I'll omit the gory details," he said, morosely. "Let's just say that there was a girl hanging out of the window of a car - and the window was rolled up."
He ended the hug and sat back down on the couch, still slightly dazed.
"She looked like you," he said numbly, refusing to meet my eyes. I sat next to him on the couch, putting my hand on his shoulder comfortingly. It killed me to see my older friend hurt like that, but I didn't want to over-do it. I was still a bit surprised by the prolonged hug he'd given me when he first came in. He turned his head, eyes full of tears as he finally looked up at me.
"Her boyfriend was driving," he added, shaking his head. "He lived. He's in bad shape, but he's gonna make it. But she didn't - she had her whole life ahead of her, and now it's gone, because of some stupid end-of-summer party. Bloody hell, that's going to be hard for him to live with when he wakes up."
He paused, shaking his head again as he remembered the details of the accident.
"She was just so cut up," he said painfully, "and she looked so much like you."
Will looked up at me again, tears flowing freely from his bright brown eyes. I could see his concern and fear; I'd never seen him shaken up so badly before. I hugged him, rubbing his back comfortingly until his crying ceased.
"Promise me," he pleaded, wiping his eyes as he pulled back from the hug. He looked at me with all seriousness, and I could see the worry etched across his features.
"I promise I won't, ever," I assured him, "and it won't ever be me that you have to put in the back of the ambulance."
