Chapter Text
The car ride to Mr. Quincy’s house was silent aside from the soft murmurs of talk radio. The heated seats were now uncomfortably warm, but Johansson decided against asking to turn them off. The wilting trees and dying grass blazed past along either side of the road. He observed them closely so as to not think too hard about his emotions. He didn't really say yes to William's request, but he didn’t say no either. He just gave him a lifeless nod and a shrug. "I'm glad I can count on you!" William had said with an artificial sweetness in his tone. He was now driving and being as quiet as possible, other than the muffled drum of his fingertips tapping the steering wheel.
William slowed to a stop right before Johansson's neighborhood, like the last time. Johansson got out of the car and fidgeted with the mount in the back before retrieving his bike. He walked it over to the passenger's side and looked at William, who just looked back at him. They held each other's gaze for a moment too long, something unnamable between them—not quite guilt, not quite disappointment.
Whatever it was, Johansson looked away, William did the same, and they both started down their opposite paths.
The next few days, the two didn't speak when they crossed paths at school. William nearly sat at the desk next to Johansson in class, but hesitated and sat in his old spot two rows behind. Johansson had the crazy thought of striking up a conversation, but seeing William hang out with his friends at lunch, he didn't bother trying.
By Thursday, Johansson began to feel angry at himself for even feeling any kind of emotion other than hate for William. He was a pampered little rich boy who made his life miserable. He looked down at his table and saw the age-old saying carved into the cafeteria table: JOHANSSON QUINCY SUCKS EGGS! (With doodles of a stick-man Johansson holding an egg carton and the Cool S, for decoration.)
He hated William for spreading such a dumb saying. Of course, William wasn't the one who started the bullying that Johansson always received, but he sure made it worse. He gave people like Harold a shield when it came to reporting the harassment. It's your word against William's, they'd say. Everyone knew William had a Get-Out-Of-Jail-Free card in life, since his parents funded most of the school's events and programs. Even so, Johansson found himself feeling a way he could only describe as missing William's presence, even if he hadn't shown that he enjoyed it so much.
The volume of the cafeteria died down as Johansson picked at the crusts of his PB&J. The sun had slowly but surely become less visible through thick, low clouds. He told himself he was staying behind longer to avoid weaving through the heavy traffic of students. Still, he found himself glancing towards William every few seconds. He watched as he gave his friends an empty smile whenever they cracked a joke. It was the same polite smile he gave Madeline, his teachers, his butler, strangers. Johansson wondered if anyone else had noticed how hollow it was. He wondered if it looked like his own.
By late afternoon, the boys had made their separate ways to band class, where Johansson sat in his usual seat away from everyone. William stood near the center of the room as everyone surrounded him, all trying to speak to him at once. Mr. Grime walked in and told everyone to settle down into their seats. Johansson didn’t pay much attention to his speech at the beginning of class until he heard his name loud enough to rip through the cushion of Solitude in his—or rather William's—earbuds. He yanked them out of his ears and sat up in attention.
"Did you get that, Quincy?" He blared from across the room. Johansson timidly shook his head yes, not knowing a single word said to him.
It was the end of class, and the school day for the awaited 3-day weekend. Students cheered and rushed through the doors of their classrooms. Johansson decided to linger a little longer once more, this time unintentionally. He became engulfed in his music, thanks to the huge boost in quality the earbuds gave his music. He almost felt like he was at a concert, front row, listening to his favorite artists play for only him. He closed his eyes and reveled in his newfound serenity.
His fantasy was interrupted by a sweet smell wafting across his nose. It was a familiar aroma that shocked him out of his trance. The 'Sweet Clover' laundry detergent used by William, who stood behind him, back turned to the cubbies that rested on the wall near Johansson's chair. He sat up, pulled the earbuds from his Walkman, and observed William taking his clarinet case from his assigned cubby.
"...What are you doing?" Johansson asked, watching his case be snatched up by William, who had his own hastily tucked under his arm.
"I thought you were listening to Mr. Grime earlier. I still have to tutor you, remember?" William replied, still staring ahead at the cubbies.
Johansson cringed. He had forgotten they were destined to be study buddies. He rose from his chair awkwardly. "Oh...right. See, I can't tonight. I have to babysit for my boss. Maybe another time?"
"Oh!' William started, then slowly said, as if he were still processing the thought, "Then I can help babysit?"
He saw it coming. A glimpse of the clingy guy William was turning out to be once again reared its ugly, charming head. He should have said no, should've rolled his eyes, but his shoulders loosened, and William noticed. He accepted almost too quickly, and the ghost of a genuine smile went across William's face.
๑๑๑
The drive to Johansson's boss's house felt shorter than it should have. William didn't drum his fingers on the steering wheel like before. Instead, he gripped it tightly, letting go once to change the radio station. The two shared a few glimpses at each other, disguised as sightseeing the town through each other's windows. Johansson felt more at ease than he had for the past 3 days. He didn't know why, though. He observed William's expressions and characteristics—the way his jaw tensed when he got stuck in traffic and the faint vertical tan line made by the crease in the center of his forehead. He watched in awe of the car phone that William used to call his butler and let him know he'd be coming home later that night.
The car idles in the driveway of the two-story home. He puts on the parking brake, then looks over at Johansson, who looks back at him. Johansson asks, "Well, are you gonna sit there all night?" to which he half expects a sarcastic yes. The edges of William's lips finally curl up into a small smirk. "After you, Quincy."
The porch lights flickered lazily, buzzing loudly enough to be noticed. Moths had already begun to gather around it. As they made their way up the wooden steps, William slowly settled onto each step, as if he were trying to will the creaky wood into silence. Johansson had already been knocking on the door before William completed the last step.
The door flies open, and Johansson's boss, Eugene, steps outside, holding a baby girl and car keys.
"Look who's finally on time!" He blared with his grizzly voice. The baby giggled and played with his scruffy beard. Eugene notices William completing his perilous journey to the porch. Johansson clears his throat.
"Uhm, Mr. Red, I hope you don't mind me bringing a guest. This is-"
"William Emerson III? Son of the William Emerson, owner of the Emerson Enterprises?!" Eugene gawks.
"Um...yeah."
"Well, shiver me timbers!" He flashes William a huge, toothy grin that exposes a few of his golden replacement teeth. Johansson could practically see the dollar signs in his eyes as he outstretched his hand. "Eugene H. Red, owner of the one and only Krusty Krab!"
William gives his usual polite smile, with a tinge of disgust that only Johansson seemed to notice, and grabs the burly man's hand for a handshake. Eugene towered over them both, wearing a sleeveless button-up exposing his hairy and heavily tattooed arms, and purple dress pants. His hair was coily, black, turning dark grey, and brushed into a low ponytail.
He rocked the baby, dressed in a pink, skirted onesie, and brought her down to William's eye level to present her to him. "This is me sweet daughter, Pearl." He said with a proud smile. William locked eyes with the baby and awkwardly chuckled. "She's...adorable." He took a step back and tugged on his scarf. Eugene collected himself and turned to give baby Pearl to Johannson gently, then adjusted the belt holding up his pants. "Welp, it be time to count me money." He spun his keys around his finger and made his way down the steps, his heavy footing causing the porch to rumble. "No touching me safe! See you boys in a few hours!" In a matter of seconds, he'd hopped in his brown pickup truck and sped off.
Pearl cooed in Johansson's arms, grabbing his finger, two times the size of her hand. He stepped backward into the house and waited for William, who lingered on the porch. "What are you, a vampire? Do I need to invite you in?" He jabbed, and William slowly stepped into the home. Soft orange lights bathed the living room from lamps on either side of the navy blue corduroy sofa. The wooden flooring had been anything but level, and the wood plank walls were covered top to bottom with photographs in ornate bronze frames.
Johansson wriggled out of his thin winter coat one arm at a time and let it fall onto the ground. He gently sat at the end of the sofa and lovingly mocked Pearl's babbles back to her, making her giggle. He turned over to William, who had thrown his own maroon scarf and puffer coat on top of Johansson's, yet stayed standing just a few inches away from the couch as he took in the new setting. He scrunched his nose as if it stung from an unpleasant smell that Johansson didn't seem to notice. After a few moments, he awkwardly made his way around and sat at the opposite end, not letting himself sink into the old sofa. He crossed his leg as if to create even more space between them.
The TV only displayed static snow, but for a few minutes, the boys sat and watched it. Johansson tried to keep his attention on Pearl's playful grip, but it kept being pulled toward William whenever he'd uncomfortably shuffle in his spot. Now that he thought about it, his mind had been on William this entire time, nothing else. Even the small movements of his temple interested him in some odd way. He didn't know why he felt so intrigued by William, only that he did. And now, he noticed how uncomfortable he was, and decided to call it out.
"Is this your first time being in a place like...this?" He asked, not sure how to word his question. He wondered if William had been anywhere that wasn't classy and felt like wealth. But William seemed to understand, replying with even more shuffling and groaning.
"I'll take that as a no." He said, booping the nose of the giggling baby.
"It's.... warm ." William finally said, as if it were the nicest thing he could muster. "It's warm and it smells like old people and salt. And I can feel the springs in this couch! And the TV…is tiny. And...Every. Thing. Is. Wooden." He groaned, still squirming on the sofa cushion.
Johansson scoffed. "It's not all that bad; some of us can't afford such luxuries. Though I'm sure Mr. Red could, he's just a cheapskate."
William looked down at the floor thoughtfully. The room fell quiet once again, the silence so heavy, you could cut it with a knife. There was still the unspoken tension between the two that kept William from making contact all week. Johansson wondered why he'd decided to be around him today, in a place that clearly made his skin crawl.
Before he could ask, Pearl let out a tiny squeal of frustration. Cute, at first, until it became horrifying shrieks that Johansson couldn't placate. He bounced her on his leg and shushed frantically. William had begun to scoot closer to Johansson, curious about the baby's cries. He watched tears flow down Pearl's little face with empathy, and after some time, held out his arms. Johansson almost didn't register that he was offering to hold her and shot him a concerned look, asking him, "You sure?", to which William responded with a nod, already scooping up baby Pearl. Johansson felt his heart pang when William lightly brushed his arms against his own, and his heartbeat only got faster when he caught sight of William's gentle attentiveness to Pearl. He didn't know how to properly hold her, so Johansson hesitatingly put his hand under William's and guided it under Pearl's head. William's hand was soft and slightly warmer than Johansson expected. They were bigger than his, so noticeably so that it made the both of them look at each other and laugh nervously. William gently rocked baby Pearl, whispering things too quiet for Johansson to hear. Pearl's crying quickly faltered, replaced with sniffly coos as she grabbed for William's nose.
"Hey, check it out. I'm a natural!" William exclaimed in a quiet, triumphant voice.
Johansson was inclined to believe it. Pearl had even started to look a little sleepy. He gently put his hand down, suddenly aware it was still under William's, and jumped up. "I'll make her a bottle of formula. She's probably hungry and tired."
"Maybe I could be a dad one day, huh?" William continued as if Johansson hadn't said a word, "What do you think? Ooh! Let's play house!"
Johansson stiffened. "No way, and did you hear anything I-"
"I'll be the dad, of course."
"What? What makes you the dad?"
"Is that even a question? I'm the perfect candidate."
"Perfect is a strong-"
"Long, tan, handsome."
"Oka-"
"Definitely stronger than you."
"Well-"
"You're clearly the mom."
"How would-"
"Pretty, long hair, always nagging."
"I'm what?"
"Pearl is the baby, obviously." He said in a sweet baby voice to Pearl, who giggled and grabbed a stray lock of his hair.
Johansson opened his mouth to argue, but nothing came out. He walked over to the fridge and grabbed a bottle out of it, mentally thanking his boss for having already prepared a few bottles of milk. William's attention stayed on Pearl, who was trying to teethe on his fingers. "She likes me better than you already!" He bragged. Johansson shut the refrigerator door and walked back over to the sofa, plopping down. He noticed that William had started to become more comfortable on the sofa, no longer anxiously bouncing his leg and now resting back as Pearl sat on his lap. The change in William's mood almost made Johansson skip over the fact that William just called him pretty, in what sounded like a genuine observation. He tried his best not to show it, but he liked the compliment more than he should have.
"Okay, Pearl, who do you like more? Big, scary William? Or sweet, caring Uncle Jojo?" He raised the bottle just high enough for her to see and grab at. "See? She's reaching for me!"
William scoffed. "You're cheating! That’s not fair, Mrs. Quincy."
"Mrs. Quincy?"
"You're the wife, remember?" William held Pearl upright and babbled to make her smile. "I'm the charming husband. Look at that happy face! Look at my gentle and fatherly touch! And who could resist this handsome face?"
"What handsome face?" Johansson muttered under his breath.
William turned and leaned in close. "Now, that's no way for a wife to speak to his husband."
Johansson froze, cheeks burning. "You're wife would've left you by now."
"And miss all this?" William gestured to himself dramatically, puffing out his chest slightly.
"Yeah," Johansson raised the bottle to Pearl's mouth, brushing past William's hand more than necessary, "I think she'd survive."
"Well, you haven't left yet."
"Who says I'm your wife? You haven't even proposed." Johansson playfully exclaimed.
William smirked at the sound of a challenge. "Oh, should I get on one knee and make it official?"
"No, thanks. I don't think you're man enough."
"Not man enough?"
"I mean, you weren't on Monday, at least." Johansson heard himself saying before he thought about it. Now he wished he could shove the words back in his mouth. He didn’t even know why he had said that.
William formed his mouth to say "What?", but the sound of Pearl's bottle hitting the floor, followed by her fussing, redirected the boys' attention. They both reach down to grab the bottle, bumping heads before either of them could grab it. They straightened, Johansson rubbing his temple.
William bounced his leg to no avail before Johansson took her away and rocked her the way she liked.
Silence crept into the room once again, the pair seeming closer on the sofa than they were before.
"…Where are the paper towels? There's milk all over the floor." William lifted himself off the couch and began searching for a roll. Johansson pressed his lips together tightly as if more words might unintentionally slip out.
Over the next half hour, the boys quietly worked together to take care of Pearl. Johansson soothed Pearl, then left her to play with William as he cleaned the spill, brought her more formula, and then prepared more to keep in the fridge. He eventually moved into her nursery so he could change her diaper. William followed behind awkwardly and stood in the doorway, finally deciding to break the silence.
"You're so good with her."
Johansson shrugged nonchalantly, "I've had a little practice. My mom used to babysit the neighborhood kids."
"What does she do? Like, as a job." William scratched his head, thinking of ways to continue the conversation.
"She doesn't have one. She's kind of just home all the time now, which is nice, y'know?"
"Oh..cool."
"What does your mom do?" Johansson asked. He almost apologized for asking a silly question, but realized he didn't know what William's parents did every day.
"Um…to be honest? I don't really know. They're gone all day, sometimes several days at a time, doing God knows what. I mean, they certainly aren't out building the Yachts themselves. But I rarely see them anymore. Only for the talk show interviews and photoshoots, so we seem like a happy family." He continued mindlessly, rambling about his parents' absence, how they misled the public to think they were present and attentive, how they left him with a nanny growing up as they traveled for work for so long that he would call her mom.
"Breaking: William and Natalie Emerson with Their Prodigy Son!" He mocked the headlines, "They love him so much, they leave him behind with the help for days at a time and only remember him for publicity! And it's not like it's all peaches and cream when they actually are around either! They only really talk to me to uphold their impossible standards. I swear they are some of the-" Pearl's cooing snaps William back to reality. Johansson hadn't turned to look at him, hiding his shocked but concerned expression.
"Uh, sorry about that…" William rubs the back of his neck and hangs his head down. "It's just…I feel so…isolated."
Johansson blinked, caught off guard, unsure of what to say. "N-No, it's okay," he reassured. He tried to process it all, the lonely boy under all the polish. For once, he wasn’t looking at William-the-prodigy or William-the-jerk, but someone who was like…him. "I guess we're more alike than I thought."
William's eyes softened. "Guess so."
They didn't say anything else.
Johansson felt his breathing steady. He hadn’t realized how much he had needed this; someone who felt as unseen, as out of step with the world they lived in, as he did. And in that silent understanding, he felt a small, steady pull toward something they were both missing: a friend.