bittersweet symphony. [tag; honey]

He didn't know why he was so nervous.

Well, no. That was a lie - he knew exactly how and why he'd put his foot in it. It had been over two months since they'd last spoken to one another properly. As soon as she'd left, he realised that he'd made a mistake. Will didn't think he had an anger problem but recent events made him want to keep a closer eye on himself.

He sat by the window, his dark eyes flicking back and forth as they lazily watched passer-bys. He was looking but he wasn't really seeing, they were all sort of just drably coloured blobs at this point. He'd been here for twenty minutes or so, according to the ornate clock hanging above the entrance. He had the habit of being early to things but he hadn't slept well and he'd been staring at the same four walls since the early hours of the morning, he needed to get some fresh air.

Will had picked the coffee shop at random. He would have agreed to meet Honey at his local one but Brain, the nosy barista, had a penchant for gossiping. If things went terribly, he wasn't sure he'd be able to face his saccharine sweet smile as he handed him his latte.

On the table was a cup of untouched Earl Grey tea, the string of the bag hanging over the rim sadly and he'd taken a stab at ordering a coffee for Honey - a mocha, with extra whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles. It was a bit of a punt but he wasn't going to let her pay for her own coffee, though she was well within her right to. She was also allowed to tip it over his head if she saw fit.

Will had been stewing over Honey's revelation for weeks, picking at and dissecting every little thing before he felt himself slowly go insane. So what if she knew his ex-girlfriend had been cheating on him? It wasn't her duty to tell him, that fell on Bérénice's shoulders. He heaved a sigh, his long fingers absently stirring the tea that he didn't have much desire to drink as he waited for her to walk through the door.

He wanted to apologise in person. Will was an accomplished letter writer but it was difficult to convey emotion (regret, guilt, shame, stress) on a piece of paper. He must have sounded rather desperate by the end of it.  The idea of dropping by her shop unannounced had crossed his mind before he remembered that each time he'd done that in the past, he'd accidentally ended up insulting her. Besides, Honeydukes was her sanctuary and she didn't want it sullied by him and his stupid big feet.

A flash of red hair caught his eye as he looked up sharply. Getting to his feet quickly, he pushed his chair back with such force, it almost toppled over backwards. "Shit, gah," he complained, twisting just in time to grapple with the chair before it hit the floor. Flushing quickly, he turned to look at her. Should he hug her? He shouldn't hug her.

"Honey, hi," Will greeted her with an unsure smile as he pulled at the sleeve of his jumper anxiously. She looked nice. He probably shouldn't tell her that, either. "Thanks for coming," he told her, gesturing that she take a seat before he sat down himself as a beat of uncomfortable silence settled around them. "How are you?" He asked Honey, terrible at small talk but finding himself interested to hear her answer. They were close once before and her absence in his life had not gone unnoticed.

[setting: Minnow, Clapham Common, London.]


@Honey Bea Flume

Honey was almost proud of herself, not replying to his letter immediately, some impulsive reply one way or the other. She’d only made it twelve hours or so (and she’d been asleep for half of those) before she finally did reply, but still she was almost proud.

The coffee shop wasn’t any place she recognized, in a neighborhood she’d never been to, but she doubted that Will had changed up his usual café, doubted even more that he was trying to ambush her with anything. He wanted to apologize; she should apologize but she’d gone over things enough times to convince herself she didn’t need to. She hadn’t told him anything about Harlan because it would only upset him and Merlin, had she been right. Sure, she’d made him out to be some sort of psychopath when she had been trying to explain—to Charlie, which might have been part of the reason why she did it—what had happened at the Games and while that might have been stretching the truth a little she didn’t think she owed Will and apology for that.

But it was Will and for whatever reason, she wanted to see him, almost wanted to say she was sorry.

It was mid-morning, but Honey had given herself plenty of time to put in some extra effort into her appearance, which she double checked in the window--she tucked and untucked her hair from behind her ears a couple times, settling on one side tucked and the other untucked--before ducking inside the coffee shop. She saw him immediately and was halfway to lifting her hand in a wave--old habits--when he nearly toppled his chair, saving her from wanting to take her wave back. She grimaced slightly, but it was easy to match his weak smile as soon as he offered it.

“Hi.” It was an awkward second before she sat, glancing from the coffee in front of her before refocusing on Will. “‘Course.” She could be civil when the situation called for it--and when she wasn’t hours deep into a whisky binge--and this past letter hadn’t been like his last, when he’d stooped so low to say that Dave missed her. She caught his eye and raised her eyebrows, unsure about small talk at the best of times, never mind times like this. “I’m alright.” She shrugged, relaxing her expression a little. “Work’s picking up.” For Halloween, she meant, though it wasn’t yet, not really.

She didn’t return the question immediately, still not too sure what mood the conversation was really going to take on. “Is this--” she motioned at the coffee--the cup of whipped cream--without taking her eyes off of him.

He felt like he was either on a first date or standing outside of the headmaster's office, awaiting a bollocking. It was unfortunate that things had ever reached this point. If Honey felt uncomfortable, Will couldn't tell. But she returned his smile, albeit thinly, but it was a smile all the same. He let out a breath of relief he didn't know that he was holding as she decided to sit with a nod of understanding.

"That's good," he offered politely. Alright wasn't great but he'd made a conscious effort to give her some space. A look of confusion creased his face as she said work was picking up before the penny dropped. "Right," he laughed, tapping the side of his head as he remembered. "Halloween." Duh. How out of it was he? He wondered if she was making any speciality sweets, like little ghostie marshmallows or bat-shaped fudge. He read between the lines - Honey didn't have a lot of time to spare and he tried his best not to let his smile slip.

"Mocha," Will told Honey hopefully. "I didn't know what you might want so I just took a stab," he explained, reaching up to scratch his nose out of habit. For all he knew, she could be on green tea. Or no tea. She'd always preferred sweet things and his mind ticked back to a moment in their past where she'd drank some sort of chocolate liquor that she'd liked but it had made him balk.

With his eyes downcast, Will sipped at his tea, his long fingers wrapping around the mug, pressing into the hot china. The searing heat was oddly comforting. It was on the tip of his tongue to say that Dave loved the biscuits she'd sent him but he was on thin ice already.

"Honey, I'm sorry," he blurted out quickly, his big dark eyes flicking up to her face with a frown. It took ten minutes to drink a coffee so if that was all he had, he better just suck it up and do it. He'd never had a problem apologising before (it was quickly becoming a hobby) but he didn't think anything he could do or say would justify the magnitude of the dick move he'd pulled on her months ago. The Games had all been a bit of a blur. He'd been drunk and upset and rude and a genuine pillock for the entire day.

"I didn't mean what I said." He didn't. Honey wasn't a villain. She'd been hurting too and she was only trying to protect him. Saying sorry also meant that Honey was well within her right to reject it. Will couldn't decide when (and if) she'd stop being mad at him. He reached out and deposited a small biscuit that had come with his tea on to her saucer without a word, retracting his hand quickly with a nod, letting her have a quick think on it.

He’d bought her a mocha, and she smiled through his insistence he hadn’t known what she wanted. “No, it’s perfect.” She wouldn’t let herself get distracted by that, though, by how well he knew her. Of course, she owned a sweet shop, made chocolates for a living, ordered mochas probably every time they’d had coffee together; it was easy to look past all of that.

She didn’t say anything else, didn’t prompt him for more, didn’t ask why she was really there.

She was midway into wiping whipped cream off her upper lip with her thumb when he looked up at her-- and apologized. She didn’t want to be smug about it--it’d happened so fast--but it was hard not to be, even if she’d expected it (and even if it wasn’t a bold assumption to expect it from him, no less). She chewed on her lower lip--upper lip free of whipped cream now--and watched him.

Honey thought he did mean what he said--that she was just as bad as them--but she wasn’t about to say that now. It was too close to admitting he was right. “I--” she paused as Will reached across and dropped a biscuit onto her plate; she looked from it to him, forgetting what she had been about to say. It was hard to stay mad at him; why was that?

She picked up the biscuit after a few seconds, holding onto it instead of eating it. “I should have told you,” she said quietly, meeting his eye. “Sooner.” She wasn’t apologizing for it, technically. “I was going to, but--” she swallowed hard and looked away, having a bite of the biscuit as she went over all the reasons she’d come up with for not telling him. Mainly, she had realized that both Will and Harlan--even more so now, she remembered--had moved on from Honey with her.

“Honestly.” She looked back at him, not stooping so low as to tell him she’d done it for his own good. He wouldn’t have believed her, anyway; he knew her too well for that. “I wanted you to break up with her--” tit for tat, or something-- “But then you already had, so…” She could have put it in a letter since there was clearly a gap in between Harlan telling Honey and Bérénice telling Will, but telling him in writing somehow seemed worse than not telling him at all.

He nodded. The coffee order was correct. He watched as she drank, mirroring her motion as he sipped at his tea. It was lukewarm now and bitter, having been distracted and leaving the bag in too long. There was silence between them and it made Will feel nauseous. He'd gone from being mild mannered and with very few enemies (that he was aware of) to upsetting two former girlfriends in the space of a week.

"Thank you," he told Honey, his voice sounding hoarse. He didn't want to say no worries because he was, in fact, full of worries. The biscuit wasn't quite an olive branch but it was a start. He didn't feel particularly smug or triumphant as she said that she'd meant to tell him and he didn't know if he should. It was a hollow victory. He nodded, wordlessly accepting Honey's non-apology. It sounded like one and he was happy to take it.

"I appreciate it," he began softly. He could relate to Honey in this instance. Both she and Bérénice had moved on with the same man and it stung. He watched her for a moment, picking up his teaspoon and stirring, just so he had something to do with his hands before he looked up in shock.

"You did?" Will blurted out quickly, blinking three times in rapid succession. He didn't have the heart to tell her that he'd been the dumpee, not the dumper. Not that the technicality mattered. He simply wasn't good on his own. He didn't like being by himself, which might explain how he'd continually pushed Honey's boundaries, fearful in case she might leave, too. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her why but he wasn't sure he wanted to find out.

"I wanted you to break up with Harlan too," he admitted with a frown, not meeting her eye. "But for probably a different reason. I think he's a dickhead," he said with a small smile, trying his hardest to tread gently in case the Beater and Honey were still in contact with one another.

"Thank you, though," he finally said. He hadn't thanked her in Scotland, even if it just slipped out. He'd acted appallingly and he was still very embarrassed. Will hoped no one had overheard their conversation. He really didn't want to be the subject of Highland gossip.

They had things he thought they needed to talk about but he wasn't sure if now was the time. It'd taken him weeks to coax Honey into meeting him and the last thing he needed was for her to scurry away. He heaved a sigh and gave a tired laugh as he reached up to take off his glasses and use the heel of his left hand to rub his eye. "What're we like," he commented with a shake of his head.

Honey nodded almost imperceptibly; she did. She really had wanted him to break up with Bérénice and she knew her motivation for wanting it was wrong, but she had wanted it all the same. He wasn’t asking for details, though, so she didn’t offer them.

But he had wanted her to break up with Harlan, too. She stared at him, her eyebrows furrowed, but he wasn’t looking at her anymore. She hoped he wasn’t saying what she thought he was, hoped he didn’t think she’d meant she’d wanted him to break up with Bérénice because she was in love with him or something. It didn’t inspire confidence that it was for a different reason; she braced herself for it-- “Oh.” Honey laughed, almost relieved that Will just thought Harlan was a dickhead. “Aye, he kinda is.” She hadn’t talked to him in a month but she was sure he hadn’t changed since then. She sort of had a type, present company (usually) excluded.

Honey shrugged off his thanks; it really wasn’t necessary, definitely wasn’t if Will was privy to everything going on in her head. She had another sip of her coffee, careful with the whipped cream this time.

She watched him, fidgeting, stalling--she knew him well enough to recognize what he was doing--and she almost wanted to ask him what was on his mind but she was more or less afraid of what else he had to say. She didn’t think he’d gotten it all out of his system at the Games; he might be more composed now but he could have plenty of opinions left.

What’re we like. Honey let out a little laugh, unexpectedly. She was close to saying that if they’d never broken up with each other in the first place, they would never have had to deal with this, but she’d said that in June during their original Harlan-and-Bérénice conversation and she knew how well that had ended. “Dunno,” she said instead. “We--” she started and stopped. She caught his eye and shrugged, dropping the volume of her voice: “I don’t know.”

She could remember most of that June conversation, especially when she’d come to the revelation that he didn’t think as highly of their relationship as she had thought. That was why she’d kissed him, then, because he already had such a low opinion of her. Of them. But she’d been trying. That was too familiar now, trying, then being passed over for her.

“Why did-- what was it, about her?” She wanted to take it back as soon as she’d said it but it was already out there. Will might not have left her for Bérénice but he had shown up to Honeydukes, kissed her, and then gone to find someone and Will wasn’t exactly the type to have more than one someones.

The fact that Honey was laughing made Will think that there was a very small chance that this wasn't about to go up in smoke. He smiled at her quickly. He understood, she didn't have to say it. Breaking up was hard to do but they'd been broken up for so long, it was jarring to find that this conversation was painful. He'd moved on, she'd moved on, but this wasn't about that.

Things needed to be said but he couldn't do it. The term flogging a dead horse bumbled around his brain. It wasn't that either of them wanted to get back together - they'd sort of tried that already - but it was more that horrid American word: closure.

But that was a loaded question.

Will paused, tea cup halfway to his mouth, before he hesitated. He cleared his throat as he sat it gently back on its saucer and gave a gentle sigh. He honestly didn't know how to answer that question without hurting Honey or Bérénice . Then again, he doubted he'd ever see the Frenchwoman again but that didn't mean he wanted to be awful when she wasn't here to defend herself.

He was aware he was taking his time to answer as the chatter of the cafe didn't seem as loud as the ticking of the clock on the wall. Will held himself stiffly, looking like all of the tension was held in his shoulders. "I don't know," he answered Honey softly, accidentally using the same answer she'd given him. He did know why but he also knew that he needed to tread gently. He really did care about her and the option of not having her in his life at all made him feel to his stomach.

Composing himself, he decided to just do it. "I was devastated," Will began, despite him previously mentioning that their relationship hadn't been a big deal. "After we ended, I was completely lost. I ended up going to Europe," he told Honey, eyes wide as though the fact shocked himself. "Turns out, things there reminded me of you, too," he met her eyes and smiled.

"I met her in a library," he explained, not stopping to make sure Honey even wanted to hear it. Typical Will, going on holiday and ending up in a library. "And she was wearing a pink coat," he frowned - he couldn't look at the shade of dusky rose the same way any more. "Anyway," he said quickly with a shake of his head.

"She was gorgeous and soft and warm and witty," Will went on, his face clouding as his brows furrowed. It felt wholly disrespectful to be telling Honey this but she had asked him. "Articulate, beautiful, charismatic, charming," he went on, looking more and more stressed before he finally met Honey's gaze evenly. "She was exactly what I thought I needed at that moment," he levelled with the redhead. Bérénice perhaps understood or accepted him in a way that Honey hadn't. He was drawn to the Frenchwoman but he had the sinking feeling part of that magnetism was all in his head.

"It was a holiday romance that I thought I could make work. We were in our own little bubble, I didn't realise that things weren't great." Pausing, he sipped at his tea. "They hadn't been for a while, actually," he frowned. He hadn't noticed  Bérénice drifting, being busy all the time, not wanting to come to London. Or rather, he had, he just didn't want to admit it. Hindsight was a wonderful thing and looking back, they should have kept things in France and not tried to drag them back over the Channel. "I don't regret it," he told Honey. "I think she's great. I liked her a lot and I wish her all the best." Long story short - Bérénice wasn't Honey and that, therein, lay the problem. Will had a recent break up and Bérénice had issues with her ex-fiancee. They were just at the right place at the right time. Maybe a rebound, maybe not. It sounded like he was belittling their time together but it was accidental.

"I can't speak for Harlan," Will told Honey quickly, feeling like an absolute shit after spilling his guts. The Quidditch player and his ex obviously had much more in common than he ever did. Evidently, both men had a similar taste in women. "I don't know what he sees in her that he didn't see in you," Will began with a gentle smile, knowing that Harlan was out of his tiny mind to consider looking anywhere else than at the redhead. "But yeah," he nodded, dropping his hands into his lap as he anxiously awaited her reaction.

The fact that he didn’t answer right away was both reassuring and not-- reassuring because if he was going to just say whatever to make her feel better, he would have jumped right to it; not reassuring because she knew she didn’t want to hear what he had to say. She knew the underlying reason she was asking; while she did want to know what Will saw in her, the other woman, Honey mostly wanted to know what Harlan was thinking, as if she ever thought she’d be using Will to help her form a solid opinion of Harlan’s thoughts.

He was devastated, he told her. He’d told her before that he’d had a rough time of it, had gone abroad. She’d seen him when he had returned, looking all tanned and fit and thoroughly uninterested in her. But devastated or not, it wasn’t really an answer to her question (even if it was almost nice to hear that things there had reminded him of her, now wasn’t a good time to get carried away with her ego).

Honey kept her eyes on him as he went on to explain his holiday, the library, the pink coat; she thought she could picture it all in her mind and as hard as she tried to paint an unfortunate picture of it all--frumpy pink coat, some stuck up library in France--she couldn’t hold onto it. She remembered her at the quidditch match, could still see that photo from the gala in The Prophet.

She thought she kept her expression somewhat neutral as he carried on, now explaining Bérénice. It was what she had asked for, but that didn’t make it any easier to hear. She thought she could count on one hand how many of those descriptor words could be applied to her, wouldn’t even need all five fingers. She didn’t like it, comparing herself to some other woman, but she had managed to work her way into Honey’s life from multiple angles.

Will met her gaze and Honey swallowed, not sure which direction her mind was headed in. In one direction, it all sort of made sense; the other, Honey was full of disbelief that she could be passed over for her. She leaned into the former the more Will looked at her, the more he went on. His holiday romance had lasted over a year, longer than their relationship, longer than hers and Harlan’s, longer than both of them combined. Hearing that things weren’t great wasn’t as reassuring as it should have been; if things weren’t great for that long, had Honey been right in assuming Harlan wasn’t telling her the whole truth, that it was really more than just a kiss? ‘A while’ could mean anything.

“Yeah, of course not.” He didn’t regret it; she wasn’t expecting (or asking) him to. She smiled smally and looked down at her coffee as Will finished his thought, wishing Bérénice all the best. Honey couldn’t say she wished for that.

She glanced back up when he mentioned Harlan--her thoughts had drifted back to him, naturally--and she caught his eye, not expecting what he said next. “I can think of a few things,” she said with a little laugh; articulate, charming, soft, warm-- none of that could really apply to Honey. They had history, too--old family friends--and probably had less issue actually talking about things.

It took her a minute to realize she and Will hadn’t often talked like this, anything serious, even when they’d been dating. She’d always just assume he felt a certain way--often assuming he felt too much and wanted too much--and talk herself out of returning any of the sentiment because she didn’t want things to be too serious; she didn’t want him to have the wrong assumptions about her, either.

“I kissed him once--” she didn’t bother clarifying who-- “when you and I were dating.” She kept her gaze on him, however tempting it was to look away. “Right before Christmas.” She figured she ought to lay out the whole situation so he wouldn’t try guessing when, even if it had been nearly two years ago now. “I didn’t think it was a big deal, and I didn’t see any reason to tell you but--” She looked away then, glancing down for half a second before she convinced herself to look back up. “I’m sorry.” At the very least, it seemed easier to apologize for that instead of thinking about Bérénice anymore.

He smiled at Honey gently before he looked away, just over her shoulder, as though he was suddenly interested in a woman who was laden down with carrier bags. He wasn't. It was just that they were veering into unknown territory. Will was always deep in his feelings and had a hard time understanding why other people weren't. It wasn't quite a heart-to-heart but they were being more honest with each other than they had in a long time.

"You're also bright, brave, creative, funny," he told her as he fixed his eyes back on her. Honey was all of those things and more, despite distancing herself from the way he'd described Bérénice. It wasn't that he liked either woman more, he just liked them...differently. He could go to museums with Bérénice and he could go to a pub, get beaten in a game of darts and spend the night on the sofa with Honey. He liked both scenarios just as much as the other.

But Will looked up sharply as she spoke and he wasn't quick enough to catch his face before it fell, effectively breaking himself out of his reverie.

He blinked as he fell silent, placing his tea cup back on his saucer. She didn't specify who but he wasn't stupid. "Ah," came the soft response as he nodded. Honey said it was around Christmas and things slotted into place. "Was that why you had a bad time with my parents?" Will asked her, his tone wasn't accusatory. They'd broken up soon after Christmas but he'd blamed his parents, despite them being nothing but lovely. He didn't think she hadn't enjoyed herself because her head was filled with someone else.

She said she didn't think it was important but he bit down on the sides of his tongue. He thought it was important. Will had never had the desire to cheat on anyone and he'd put that down to his principals but he was starting to realise it was more like a lack of passion. Both Honey and Bérénice had left him for someone who was completely different than he was. It was starting to give him some kind of complex. I didn't think it was a big deal she said. They had different definitions of the word "cheating"

Will realised he'd been quiet for a long time and as Honey looked away, he frowned, his brows coming down to furrow. He was about to remind her that if she wanted to repent, she needed to find a man in a dog collar but he refrained - that was rude and unhelpful.

It had taken him a long time (much longer than he thought) to be okay with everything that had happened but her apology made him frown again. "It's okay," he told her gently, reaching across the table to hold her hand before he thought better of it and let it hover awkwardly for a moment. "Do you -- " he stopped as he leaned back, not really sure if he wasn't to breach the subject.  Will spent enough time dissecting previous relationships. He was comfortable in the pain and it had become addictive but it was a slippery slope. "Do you want to ask him about it?" Will said as he looked at her. She wasn't quite herself and it made him uncomfortable and a little sad to see her without her spark. He wasn't Bellamy's biggest fan and he wasn't going to try and reconcile them but it was clear, to him at least, they had unfinished business. "Or we can," he added quickly with an encouraging smile. "I'm cheaper than a therapist and woefully underqualified."

Honey hadn’t been fishing for compliments—for once—but she couldn’t deny it was nice to hear. She smiled, though the expression didn’t reach her eyes; it was nice to hear, sure, but she’d rather hear it from someone else.

He didn’t really react to what she was telling him, what she was apologizing for, but considering what had happened the last time she’d told him something she’d been keeping from him— this was better than that. Her face fell when he continued. “No, I—“ she glanced down at her hands for a second before she looked back at him. “I thought we had a nice time with your parents,” she said, truthfully. They’d had a nice time with hers, too, the day before. Everything was so nice that she thought it was some sort of sign of things to come. Serious things. She hadn’t introduced anyone she was dating to her parents before (or after) Will.

But she hadn’t used that as a reason to break up immediately; she had put it off for several weeks—as if she she could come around to the idea of picturing some sort of life with the man sitting across from her—but she hadn’t made it to Valentine’s Day. She had used the rush of work the weeks before as a bit of cover. In hindsight, it probably made it worse.

There was a little part of her that had realized he deserved better and she had told him as much but she hadn’t really meant it then; she was just trying to cover her bases. But she meant it now, after all of this. She couldn’t help but feel responsible for his run of bad luck, if that’s what she was really going to call it.

He told her it was okay, reached for her, didn’t take her hand. She looked up from their hands—an inch apart—to his face; she was unsure what that expression was all about. “What?” Did she want to ask him— Harlan? Was he serious? She had tried to talk to him but that had gone nowhere. At this point the only person she’d been capable of actually talking about anything was— she didn’t want to think about that, either. Will offered to be a sounding board and Honey quickly shook her head. “I don’t think I’m desperate enough for therapy.” Will didn’t need to keep hearing about Harlan, even if she thought she wanted to talk about her relationship with him.

She caught his eye, made sure he was paying attention. “I’m just trying to tell you I think it’s a big deal now.” Her definition of cheating had evolved because it had happened to her, too, now. It was a rubbish reason, but that was beside the point. “Just wanted to be honest with you.” For once. “And apologize.” Again.

"We did," he was quick to assure her, realising his mistake. At least, he'd had a nice time. Will had feared that meeting his parents may have been too soon, but she'd invited him to meet hers. He liked her mum and dad - they clearly adored Honey and they were eccentric in the most delightful way. Will was fond of Fergie, too, but he thought too much time had elapsed for them to have a friendly drink with her brother without it being weird.

It was nice to bring someone home and he offered Honey a quick smile. She had her reasons for ending things the way she had and he thought he understood most of it. He was mostly fine. Moping was a hobby but it was Christmas soon and he definitely wasn't ready to let anyone else try his family's special chocolate orange trifle.

Swiftly, Will laughed as he shook his head. "You don't need to be desperate," he offered lightly but he understood the sentiment. He didn't really want to hear about her feelings for Harlan but he would, if he thought it'd help her. He didn't think it'd do much good. He'd be a lot happier for Honey if she'd been in love with anyone but him.

Catching Honey's eye, Will fell silent as the weight of her words settled. It mustn't have been easy to admit it. He picked up his tea cup and nodded in understanding, sipping at his tepid tea. "That means a lot," he said gently with a quick smile. "And thank you." He paused. "For apologising." He was hardwired to take the blame for everything himself and he felt so uncomfortable letting Honey take the hit but he bit his tongue.

They were in a similar boat, in an odd sort of circle of doom. Will dated Honey, Honey dated Harlan, Will dated Bérénice , Bérénice  was dating Harlan. The entire thing made his headspin. "Neither of us deserved this," he said conversationally with an uncharacteristically heavy sigh. There wasn't much point getting angry over it - he already had and look where that got him?

Will just didn't want to be sad any more. He wasn't the same person he had been eighteen months ago but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Maybe because Christmas wasn't far away and it was the first one he'd be facing alone for a while. It was made easier that his parents were going on a cruise, which made it even easier to take a holiday. He'd decided to go to Greece for the week. He'd much rather smash plates than watch old reruns on TV in his underpants.

"Apology accepted," Will commented with a good natured smile, wondering if he should order that chocolate cake he'd spied on the way in. Honey made it clear she didn't want to talk about it and while it didn't sit well with him, he had no choice but to accept it. Honey was a funny little thing at times. Maybe he got it wrong but she had a pretty sophisticated way of deflecting questions but they knew each other well enough to now know that he understood that if she needed him, she'd say something.

"Look at us, being adults," he joked, closing the gap to squeeze her fingers like he'd meant to earlier. "I'm really glad you came," Will said softly. Honey probably didn't realise how appreciative and relieved he was to see her face. It might have been an inconvenience for her but this drink was stopping him from slowly going insane. Honey probably needed to get to work but he wasn't quite ready to let her leave just yet. "Do you want some cake?" He offered, previously having his eye on a fat slice of lemon meringue, suddenly overcome with the urge to hug her.

Will said she didn’t need to be desperate but that still wasn’t convincing her she wanted to talk about Harlan with him. She could hardly talk about Harlan with Harlan-- and wasn’t that what their problem was? It’d been Harlan’s excuse anyway, when she’d seen him the previous month, but Honey had conveniently decided to not hold the ‘Bérénice situation’ over his head, like she really should have been doing all along. That would have been better for everyone, present company included.

it was hard to shake that feeling though.

Honey apologized and they sat in silence for a few seconds. Her shoulders relaxed as he nodded, and she mirrored him, picking up her coffee to have a sip. She returned his smile after a second, offered a little nod of her own. “Yeah.” Hopefully this would be the last time they’d need to talk about any of this; she couldn’t imagine it being any easier the next time.

She laughed; “You didn’t.” Honey figured she’d deserved it--that was the only way she could hope that Harlan and his new whatever would get what they deserve, sooner or later--and she lifted a hand to stop Will from trying to correct her. They’d just been over why she’d deserved it; she’d just been stupid enough to let her feelings get involved. She shrugged. She’d get over it. She was actively working on getting over it, if this conversation wasn’t proof enough of that.

Will accepted her apology, officially, and Honey nodded one more time. Her smile was the closest to sincere it’d been all morning. It was a relief, almost; it wasn’t that her conscience felt lighter--it’d take more than an apology for that--but that she’d been able to salvage something with Will. She’d been fine holding a grudge against him, reminding herself that he was mad at her, but it had gotten old fast.

He must have been thinking along the same lines, or at least some sort of similar line. “Something like that.” Was this the first real adult conversation she was having about this? Maybe. She returned the squeeze of his fingers as best as she can, her smile coming easier this time. “Me too.” She really was happy she came (and she was even fine with letting the opportunity for a double entendre pass her by). He didn’t let go of her hand immediately and she didn’t ask him to.

But did she want cake? “Aye.” She turned to look at the display case but she turned back just as quickly. “Let me.” This wasn’t what she’d expected for her morning. She hadn’t planned on apologizing (for anything) and she certainly hadn’t planned to stay and have cake afterward. Honey stood and moved toward the cakes, fully expecting Will to follow behind her and insist on paying. She scanned the options and took her eyes off the slice of red velvet to turn back to him. “Lemon or chocolate?” She grinned, the relief that they’d somehow managed to get to this point still washing over her. “Both? Both’s good.”

Despite Will pressing Honey to talk, he accidentally let out a sigh of relief as she declined. Not only would it be creepy, it would also be detrimental. No one liked hearing that their ex had moved on. He didn't want to hear any sordid details. He didn't want Honey to extol Harlan's virtues (as far as he was concerned, he had fuck all) but he also had a morbid curisoity. Like picking at a healing scab, just to feel the familiar sting of pain.

Honey laughed as he managed a smile, albeit a tired one. She might have been right. Will was not going to lie to her and say that a very small part of him hadn't been wishing for her relationship to blow up in her face, he wasn't a saint, but it had been short lived. The more unhappy Honey was, didn't make him feel any better. No one deserved to be cheated on, even if their past had been a little murky.

He was at the point where he did believe he should have been treated better. Nothing made it any better and he couldn't change it, he was just sad at how much stress he'd put himself through. As casually as he could, Will shrugged. Her blaming herself sat uncomfortably with him but all he wanted to do was insist that she shouldn't, so he said nothing at all.

"That's good," he said brightly. It was a smart idea to talk things through but it was better to just be able to sit together. Out of habit and with their fingers still joined, he lifted her hand and placed a kiss on the back of her knuckles, in an old fashioned gesture before he let her go.

But she wanted cake. At her insistence that she buy, Will opened his mouth to protest before he bit down on the insides of his cheek to quell the urge to say something. He was up and off his chair quickly, standing a polite distance behind Honey as he weighed up the options. The red velvet looked good. The scones were a great size. Was that apple pie?

Without meaning to, he gave a laugh, low and genuine. "Both would be great," he admitted, stuffing his hands into his pockets in case he made any more mistakes. He bent at the waist to survey the offerings. He wasn't particularly hungry but he suspected his time with Honey was rationed so he was debating on whether or not to add a muffin to their order.

"What're you doing for Christmas?" Will asked Honey conversationally, assuming she'd be snowed under with the festive rush at Honeydukes. "Thanks," he said with a smile as the waitress handed them their cakes and two forks. He wasted no time in digging into the edge of the lemon one and taking a bite, instantly recoiling and closing one eye at the sour tang. "Yikes," he complained but still went for another bite. "Try this," he insisted as he held the plate out. "It's almost terrible but I think I'm into it."

Honey watched as Will brought her hand to his lips, felt them and the tickle of his beard and it was so familiar that things felt like they were back to normal. But he didn’t linger, and neither did she, retrieving her hand and wringing it with the other one in her lap as they discussed their desire for cake.

“Both,” she repeated, turning to the girl behind the till and repeating it again: “Both.” She had to clarify because they hadn’t included the girl in their discussion of flavors, but Honey got it settled after a minute and rejoined Will at their little table. She picked up her mocha; it had gone cold in the time they’d been talking but after a quick rummage in her bag--conveniently brushing up against her wand--she resumed sipping her coffee, now at the perfect temperature.

She raised her eyebrows over the rim of her mug, setting it down and wiping the whipped cream from her upper lip with a finger. Christmas was over two months away but Honey didn’t point that out; what else were they supposed to talk about? She was just relieved they weren’t still talking about Harlan. “Majorca. The usual.” He was aware of what the usual included: sangria and whatever was left from the holiday supplies of Honeydukes. Honey wasn’t allowed in the kitchen except to top up her drink and without fail, Mrs Flume would gift her and her brother matching sets of pajamas. She was almost looking forward to it.

“You?” She asked it around the arriving plate of cake, adding a “Cheers,” to Will’s thanks after another second. Will started on the lemon so Honey started on the red velvet, careful to fork a bite with cake and frosting. She grimaced around her mouthful, watching whatever reaction Will was having. Yikes, he said, followed by telling her to try it; that wasn’t exactly a ringing endorsement, but Honey tucked in anyway.

She chewed once and swallowed, unable to take that pang in her molars. “Shit,” she said with a laugh, toning it down after a second on the off chance the baker of the cake was lurking nearby. “This isn’t one of those sugar free monstrosities, is it?” She craned her neck to look at the display again, but she couldn’t remember any sort of disclaimer on it. Besides, the sugar free options usually found some sort of sweetener to include, and this cake was lacking any of that. She had another sip of her coffee to get the sour taste out of her mouth.

“I think we were supposed to make a lemon cake in that class we ditched.” Maybe not--how long ago was that?--but there was definitely a cake on the list that they skipped out on (to go snog in a pub instead). She had another bite of the red velvet before she pushed the plate closer to his side. “Don’t eat that,” she said with an eyebrow raised, glancing at the slice of lemon cake his fork was poised over.

"Ah." Majorca, of course. He was briefly jealous. Honey's family seemed so…normal. Will hadn't heard of any mention of in-fighting or snipes over the dinner table. No one asked questions that were too personal or got overly competitive whilst playing Charades. They all seemed to have their heads screwed on properly. It was weird that he had such a nice time hanging out with her parents but that was in the past now. Mr and Mrs Flume had been really nice to him and he was sure the same courtesy would be extended to any other boyfriends she'd have in the future.

Absently, he poked some cake crumbs around his plate. "I'm going to Greece," he announced with a swift smile in her direction. Honey hated the sun, Will worshipped it, but she still went to Spain every year. He felt a rush of affection for her that he tried to keep under wraps - a very non traditional girl doing very traditional things.

He shrugged. "Mum and dad are away," he began, just in case Honey cared. "Arden's busy with school and Elijah is --" trailing off, he frowned. "I actually have no idea where he is," he admitted with a scratch of his nose. "I've got a place in Santorini for the week. Even bought myself some new swimming trunks," he smiled. "I'm hoping not to cause a scene," Will joked. He was actually looking forward to it. He'd labelled it as a "much needed getaway" instead of "disassociation". Plus, he didn't think they had Christmas crackers with those itchy paper hats in the Mediterranean.

Always game for a laugh, Honey tried the cake and he grinned, despite not meaning to. "My teeth hurt," he sympathised as he rubbed his cheekbone. "Might be gluten free," Will offered, thinking that there couldn't be anything worse. And he'd already tried a nut roast.

Surprised, Will looked up at Honey quickly before he smiled again. "Oh right," he said gently, despite thinking they'd been making macarons. In fact, he didn't remember most of that night, except for the parts that she'd been in - her red hair, the look on her face when she realised that he had baked before, the way she'd laughed when the demonstrator shot them dirty looks for giggling too loud.  "I remember," he said fondly. His ticket had been a birthday gift but he couldn't remember why she'd been there.

That seemed like such a long time ago now.  "I had a lot of fun." And Will had. In fact, he didn't think he'd had quite as much fun since.  He caught her eye but was distracted as she pushed the cake back towards him and not a moment too soon. The last time they'd tripped down memory lane, it left him feeling battered and bruised.

Dutifully, Will put his fork down with a laugh as he wiped his hands on a napkin. "Come on," he told her as he drained the last of his lukewarm tea and waited until Honey did the same. "I'll walk you out."