Work Text:
u wanna be part of another video
14:42, 01/07/2024
Another video outside of the one we’re filming tomorrow, or?
14:46, 01/07/2024
yeah
main channel
fancy it?
14:50, 01/07/2024
Only if you’re going to pay me main channel big bucks.
14:51, 01/07/2024
ty xx
14:53, 01/07/2024
You haven’t even told me what it is yet.
14:55, 01/07/2024
James is in two minds about the whole thing, really. It’s unbelievably adorable, for one. The fact that Will thought of it himself is genuinely very sweet.
It’s also insane. And Will’s done a lot of insane things, but this is pretty high up there.
“If you pass out on the side of the A23 you’re not going to sue me, right?” He asks, over the FaceTime call, only half joking.
“Nah man.” Will says. He’s lying on his bed, playing absently with his hoodie strings. “I know you’ve got no money.”
“Harsh.” But it’s not untrue. “Seriously though. Don’t put your life at risk ‘cause of me.”
“I’ll be putting my life at risk cause of the sweet December ad revenue, lad, don’t flatter yourself.”
Ieuan and Aby and some of the crew come down to Brighton to film the VT for the video, interstitial clips to stick in between the bits of Will torturing himself on his runs. Will’s off doing something else, so he can’t be there, but James is shocked to discover how detailed all the planning is - he peeks over Aby’s shoulder at her iPad during one of the setups to see some scribbled storyboards that are surprisingly well clean. “That him?” He asks.
“Yeah.” She replies, and gives the iPad to him to scroll through. There’s a whole timeline, really. Lots of moodboards and drawing and colour. It’s genuinely impressive. “He has plans to set it to ‘Here Without You’? By 3 Doors Down? We’re waiting on clearance so it’s not a done thing, but-”
“Wow.” That’s… a song choice. It’s a song choice he could make fun of, but he’s mostly just… curious. Intrigued by it. Not entirely sure what to think.
It hits him then, about how much this all seems to matter to Will, and he’s not even really sure why. He’d flatter himself to think that it was all for him, but… “He really cares about this, doesn’t he?”
“Jim.” She says, and takes the iPad back off him. Her gaze is strangely kind. “He really cares about you. ”
The summer rolls on. James drags himself up to London a few times, feeling more and more like he’s been squished, the summer heat almost too much. The tour gets better and goes smoother, and everything’s actually turning out pretty well, he thinks. Barring the near apocalyptic vibes of the sun.
“You know you’re going to run over 200km in less than three weeks?” He says. They’re back at Will’s, post a shoot, stacked up against various bits of furniture. It’s too hot to do anything.
Will shoots him a withering look. “Yeah, I just decided on doing this quest without figuring out the final number first.”
“Why… are you doing this quest?”
Will stares at him for a long moment, fingers thumbing across the knee of his shorts. Then he tips his head back and sighs. “Brother, it is way too hot for heavy questions.” It’s so clear that he doesn’t want to talk about it, which just makes James more interested.
He doesn’t ask though. Mostly ‘cause it seems a bit rude to get into it in someone else’s house. Especially since that someone is doing him a favour. Or something. He’s still not quite managed to unpack how he feels about it.
Will’s run dates inch closer and closer on his calendar, really feeding into the underlying anxiety James has got about the tour coming up, which isn’t exactly helping matters. It’s not that he thinks Will will die doing this, it’s just an insanely long run and his crew’s very good at what they do, but there’s still this anxiety.
It’s itchy, in his bones. Doesn’t really want to go away. Makes him anxious. Throws him off a little. It definitely starts to show up in the videos. Three months from now, people are going to be really concerned.
He catches Will after their latest filming sesh. “Can we… talk?”
Will just sighs. “Yeah. About time, I reckon.”
They go to a coffee shop. James politely fends off a couple of fans (he signs both of their notebooks), and Will gets the drinks. When they sit down, in a sheltered corner, it seems to take Will a while to work up the courage.
“Why are you doing this, man?” James asks, after the silence has gotten nearly completely unbearable.
The hesitancy in Will’s face seems to take him a while to work through. “Stop me if I sound weird.”
“You won’t.”
“It just- sucks, man. It sucks that we can’t do this more often.” Will rambles, definitively not meeting his eyes. “And London’s cool, I like it here, and I know you love Brighton, and it’s not really actually that far away but-”
Well. That’s just really sweet. James feels actually rather reassured. “Aw. Will. Are you admitting you’ve missed me?”
“Yeah, don’t make a big deal of it, like.” Will’s very red, and he reaches for his coffee, sucking down on the straw immediately like someone’s going to steal it away from him.
“I knew there was something hidden there under the layers of repression.” James teases. “Got any other truths you’d like to tell me while we’re doing this?”
Will just glares at him over his coffee, and doesn’t say anything more.
“It’s nice. Though. It’s really nice of you.” James replies, and nudges him in the arm. “Genuinely means a lot. You putting your life at risk to get a coffee with me. Definitely no other reason.”
“I’ll batter you, mate. Swear to god.”
Early September, Will’s runs start pinging up on his Strava. The ones from 1m to a km don’t show up, but James definitely notices the 2 km, and the 4 km, and then the 8 km, and soon Will’s staring down the barrel of the 32 km day, the 64 km day, and the 88 km day, all in quick succession.
As much as he’d never admit it, it makes James feel ill. Ill and confused, cause he’d woken up one night, sweaty in bed, and realised - oh, he’s doing it for me.
The only certainty in the entire situation is that he’ll be there, in three days time, waiting for Will to arrive. There’s a chance the video won’t do one in ten, or that Will won’t even make it to Brighton, but he’s going to be there regardless. He will be the one bit of this whole insane scheme that can’t go wrong.
The next day, 32km pings up, and less than two hours later, Will calls him, voice-only. He sounds punch-drunk and exhausted, voice rough. “How you doing, Jim?”
“Better than you, I’d expect.” James replies. He’s in bed, actually. Otto’s curled up around his feet. It’s raining in Brighton. Much needed rain, but not great weather for Will’s quest. “No face?”
“You really want to see me in the bath?”
Oh, so that’s what the strange echoey noises are. James smirks, to himself. “Well…”
Will laughs. It’s more of a bark. “Nothing interesting to see here, fella. Just a lot of tired legs. The water’s ice cold. Fuck me, what a day.”
“And you’ve gotta do it all again tomorrow.”
“Thanks for the reminder.”
“Was it… good?”
“Mikey was being a right prick but was there for most of the trip so- maybe?”
They sit there in silence for a bit. James hears faint splashing from the other end of the line. It’s almost soothing; the rain on the roof, quiet breaths in his ear. He’s sleepy, but the silence is almost too long. “Feels like you’re not telling me something, mate.”
Will stops splashing about. The tension immediately returns to his voice, and his next words come out stilted and strained. “Oh yeah. Went to the physio, didn’t I? They got a doctor in. The guy said I definitely shouldn’t be doing this cause I’ll do something to me legs. Said it was real likely, mind.”
James sits up. Otto hisses at him but doesn’t move. “Will.”
“Yeah, but I’m still doing it, right? Physio’s on the road, I’ll be fine. But it’s a bit freaky to be told something like that and-”
“Will.” James says, softer, quieter. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Yeah.” Will says, miserably, from down the other end of the line. “But I really do, though.”
Silence falls across them both once more, and James desperately scrabbles to find something to say about it. Something that’s soothing, maybe, or helpful. But he can’t find anything. “Is it ‘cause of your freaky legs?”
Indignance, immediately. “I do not have freaky legs.”
“You kinda do though.”
Will’s clearly in no mood for arguing, cause it only takes one reply to make him concede. “Yeah… I saw myself running, right. The doctor showed me. My ankles do weird things.”
“Bend inward? Like alarmingly so?”
Will’s chuckle is so tired, and so close to the phone. “I had no idea you were watching me walk so much, fella.”
“Hard not to notice, mate. It’s pretty obvious.”
Down the line, he hears Will drag himself out of the bath, water splashing everywhere. It’s… kinda intimate, this, James thinks, and bristles a little as the feeling slides across his skin. Him in bed, Will in the bath… It’s even more intimate considering the context of the whole thing. He shivers. “Make sure you dry behind your ears.”
“What- James!” Will huffs into the phone. “I don’t even wanna know how you know.”
“You do know one of my jobs is listening to sounds, right? All the time?”
“Yeah, okay. Fair’s fair.”
A rustle of some towels. Wet footprints on the floor. More rustling, maybe clothes. James feels strangely flustered by it all. A gentle walk on carpet. This room sounds larger, more padded. “You should be sleeping.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m getting there.” Will grumbles, good naturedly. More rustles, this time probably sheets. It’s too hot for much else. “In bed. Happy?”
“I’m not your mum.”
“Yeah, hope not.”
“But your mum and I-”
“You know I’ve gotta do this, right?” Will says, all in a rush. “I’ve gotta do this. I’m fucking terrified of this, man, but I’ve got to do this.”
James turns up the volume on the call, just a smidge. “You don’t have to.”
“No, I do. I’ve gotta do it cause it’s scary. Remember when I didn’t go out for three years?”
James remembers. Drastic phrasing, but it’s basically right. “It wasn’t quite that bad-”
“-cause I was so scared I’d have a seizure like I did at the Cody and Noel gig?”
That bit hasn’t aged so well. “Yeah.”
“And this scares me. This scares me so bad, Jim. What the doctor said - I feel like I’m going to shatter my dodgy knee or get hit by a car or something. But I won’t. I have to do this to know that I won’t.” Will lapses into silence.
In his ears, all James gets is his breathing, quiet and tired, almost like he’s there in the room with him. “I get it. But… you also have to know when to stop. And they won’t get mad at you if you do.”
“Oh, they will. You wanna know how much I’ve spent on this shite?”
“No.” James replies. “But just… call me. If it gets too much. Promise I’ll answer. And I’ll be seeing you when you get here. Seriously though, Will. Just call.”
All he gets in his ear after a moment is a snore.
“Good night to you too.” James says, softly, and hangs up. He stares at his ceiling for a long while, sleep only coming after far too much time awake.
The production team texts him updates throughout the 64km day.
His knee’s giving him trouble but he’s still going.
09:31, 20/09/2024
One of the camera guys attaches a pic of Will getting his knee massaged by the physio they’ve got with them.
Ieuan saddled him with a FX3 mount.
14:35, 20/09/2024
What? Why?
14:37, 20/09/2024
He thought it would be funny.
14:38, 20/09/2024
The production crew send through another pic, this one’s of Will lugging around a huge FX3 DSLR on his chest. It’s funny, but it’s definitely painful, and Will looks fucking exhausted.
Try to keep him in one piece, yeah?
14:40, 20/09/2024
No promises .
14:41, 20/09/2024
The production team reply almost immediately, and also send him a kiss emoji.
fcuking done it
19:02, 20/09/2024
Will texts him just after 7pm, when the sky’s still light. The relief James feels is immediate, anxiety unknotting in his stomach as he reads the message.
No broken bones?
19:03, 20/09/2024
only the camera mount
night night xx
19:04, 20/09/2024
Night’s still young, mate.
19:05, 20/09/2024
James replies but doesn’t get an answer.
Sometime later, the production crew send him two pictures. One is of a broken FX3 mount. The other is Will in the back of one of the production cars, hoodie wrapped around his torso, completely asleep.
The fondness in James’ chest swells to an annoying degree, which he tries to push down, but he downloads the picture from the app anyway.
The 88 km day is cloudy, and when James wakes up, he knows Will’s been running for two hours already. There’s one text on his phone. From Will.
bloody tired
see you soon
04:37, 21/09/2024
He texts back, but doesn’t at all expect an answer.
It’s hard doing chores and work stuff with the constant threat of the evening’s events hanging over him. It makes him anticipatory. More anxious than usual. Otto hisses at him, and refuses to hang around for a pat. Maybe he’s anxious too.
The production team send him a link at 9am.
Will tracker: https://shorturl.at/Zuqgp
Use at your own risk
09:01, 21/09/2024
He taps on it immediately, and finds himself redirected to a map page, with a tiny red dot slowly moving down the page near Coulsdon.
Well, great. Another thing to stare at for the rest of the day. He’s going to do nothing at all for the next 12 hours except slowly go crazy in his flat.
Over the next few hours, the production team send James pics. Will ripping up some of the kilometre markers. Many, many English pubs. A lot of pics of Will’s back.
How is he?
12:22, 21/09/2024
He texts, after the dot’s not moved for a long while.
Kilometre 30.
Not good.
12:25, 21/09/2024
He doesn’t quite cling to the tracker, but he does notice as it slowly starts moving again after a long pause, travelling further and further south. It makes him pace. He gets some work done, but not a lot. Dinner is somber and weird, the energy in the house making him antsy. He listens to the cleared songs playlist that the production team sent him. ‘Thunderstruck’, Bon Iver, M83’s ‘Outro’. How the final cut will come out, he has no idea.
10.30pm, the tracker’s stalled again, just south of the A27. A distance that would be driveable in 20 minutes. Could even bus it too.
What’s up?
22:32, 21/09/2024
There’s no reply for an alarmingly long time. James watches the clock and waits, tapping his fingers on his phone. He’s about to call again when-
Will’s calling him.
Will’s calling him.
Holy shit. He fumbles for the screen and swipes to answer the call. “Will?”
Nothing for a few seconds, just the sound of heavy, shallow breathing. Then, words crushed and mangled, “I don’t think I can do this.”
Fuck. After so long, too. His immediate thought is to tell Will that he doesn’t have to - but… he doesn’t think that’s what Will needs. Will needs to do this, as much as he doesn’t like it. “Yeah you can. You’re less than an hour away from a coffee, man.”
Will chuckles. It sounds pained. “I’ll be up all night.”
“Not a chance. Not with all the running you’ve been doing.”
“I’m- so tired, Jim. Music isn’t doin’ it anymore. I just want to-” His words drift away as he slurs, like they’ve been lost coming out of his mouth.
“Will. Will!” James barks, down the phone line. It’s not enough, but- “You’re what-” He checks the tracker again, makes a guess based on the map. “4k? 5k away from here? That’s nothing, man. Remember when we partied that night and walked all the way to Tower Bridge to take those dumb photos? That was more than this.”
“Hadn’t…walked 82k before that though.” Will’s voice comes down the phone again, louder maybe, like he’s made a genuine effort to wake himself up more.
“Yeah but we’d drunk enough that it felt like it.” James replies, something coming to mind. It’s a little crazy, but… “I’m …maybe 2k, from the cafe? Stay on the line? I’ll walk if you do.” He had planned to Uber, but this feels far more important. Far more precious. He can actively help here. “Will?”
“Yeah.” Will grunts. His voice is ragged, torn to shreds. “I’m movin’... You better be too, Jim.”
The tracker on his computer flickers once. Twice. Then it starts moving again. “You’re doing so well, Will.” James says. It’s too kind, completely free of any kind of teasing, but… Will really seems like he’s on the edge of a precipice right now. “I’ll see you soon.”
He pulls on his coat, tucks his keys and his wallet into his pocket, and steps out of the house. Will’s murmuring in his ear, nothing that makes much sense, but it’s still words and he’s still upright. “You’re going to get here, y’know? You really have done incredibly well.”
“Enough of the nice stuff…” Will slurs. “Just… talk about something? Anything?”
“Yeah.” James pulls his front door shut, and steps out onto the pavement. He knows where he’s going, doesn’t need a map, so he just tucks his phone into his pocket and talks through his earbuds. Nothing that matters, nothing with context, just rambling about his day as he walks. He gets halfway through humming his album when Will’s voice crackles down the line. “Two k.”
Two kilometres. He checks his phone. 11:20pm. Fuck. “You’re nearly here, mate.” And he’s here, too, arriving at the coffee shop where some of the crew are waiting, assembling cameras.
He gets drafted into a little more VT filming as he waits, talking to Will on the phone all the while. “One km.” Will crackles again, down the line. “They say I gotta- I gotta hang up.”
“I’m at the cafe. You ran a km in just under three minutes last week, didn’t you? I’ll see you soon.”
“You’re such a dick.” Will sighs, but he sounds almost like a human being again as he rings off.
James drums his fingers on the table, disgusted at how awkward he feels. He goes up to the counter, orders a no-caffeine coke with lemon and a chai for Will, and sits back down. The filming crew hovers. He checks his phone again, anxiety building in his stomach once more. 11:41pm. It’s getting close. Too close.
As he’s about to check his phone again, a shout rings out around the production team. He turns. Just down the road- is Will. Stumbling past a zebra crossing with its lights flashing, drenched in sweat and wearing a hi-vis - but it’s Will. He’s made it.
He’s made it.
Will stumbles in through the door of the cafe, and screeches, pumping his arms, before limping over, taking one look at James and falling into his arms, clutching at his back like it’s the only thing keeping him upright.
He absolutely fucking reeks. He stinks of sweat, and mud, and rain, and James has no idea of where to put his hands, too conscious of the cameras, too conscious of it all. But finally, everything feels right. Will’s made it. He’s not insanely injured - James thinks - and he’s here .
It means a lot more to him than he can even express. Warmth, kindness, and… something tickles in his throat that’s maybe even a little more than them both.
The production crew bustle around, directing them to the table, and to their drinks. Will takes longer than usual to let go, but slumps down into his chair, looking exhausted. “Fuck me, do I have to drink this coffee? Me heart will explode.”
“It’s chai.” James says. “Caffeine-free. I figured.”
Will just knocks his knuckles against his, and shoots him a graceful look.
The prod team resets the cameras for one final moment in the cafe. James takes a sip of his drink, very aware of the production team hovering. “Mate, you wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had.”
Will just laughs and laughs, his running shoes glancing off James’ ankles. He doesn’t even look like he knows what to say.
But he doesn’t need to find anything. The production team cuts the cameras, deciding that’s enough, and Aby starts packing them down immediately, leaving Will and Jim to just… sit there.
Marathon over.
It’s done.
“Fuck me.” Will slurs, immediately dropping any kind of energy for the cameras. He dips his head down to the table, reaching out his hands to play with the sleeve of James’ coat. They’re also really mucky, and he could argue, but he… doesn’t. “I could sleep for a week.”
“I reckon. But, hey, you didn’t break any bones.”
“I don’t know, man. We’ll have to figure tomorrow morning. I stopped feeling anything below the waist an hour ago.”
The production team pour Will into one of their cars, and it just seems natural for James to go along with them, considering how tightly Will’s clinging onto the arm of his coat, pupils blown wide, like he’s completely lost at sea. He settles down in the seat next to Will, watching as the other man’s eyes drift completely shut.
Aby pokes her head into the car. “He’s good?- Will, you’re- Jim, you’re coming with?”
Kinda hard to move now that Will’s got his nose pressed against his shoulder, snoring gently, and truthfully, he doesn’t really want to. “Guess I am. Where are you going?”
“Hotel.” She says, shortly, and he realises then how tired she looks, too, and how tired the rest of the production team must be. It’s been a hustle for all of them, these last few days. “No way we safely drive back tonight.”
“Yeah, smart.”
The hotel maybe would be walking distance, but no-one’s in a fit state. The drive passes noiselessly. James stares out the window, watching faint rain bead on the glass, and runs a thumb along Will’s shoulder, deeply and completely conflicted.
It’s funny. Sometimes things only snap right into focus after someone does the insane and great gesture of running 200 km to see you. It aches in his teeth, for a moment. It’s an enormous gesture. He’s just not sure if it means what he thinks it means.
Being the only one of truly sound mind and body, James pulls himself from the car and helps the production team sort keys and things with the front desk. The woman behind the counter is clearly tired, brown eyes dipping at the corners, but she smiles softly at him and says, “James, right? I like your music.”
Unexpected. “That’s really nice of you.”
“Is this for a video? I mean. If I can ask that.”
The chaos in the lobby probably speaks for itself, but he says, “Yeah. Give it a few months. I reckon it’ll be a good one.”
It’s after one am when they manage to get everyone settled in their rooms. James had nearly begged off once they’d gotten Will up to his room, but Will had curled his hand around his sleeve and shot him such a beseeching look that he’d not felt right leaving.
It’s after one am, and he’s sitting, coatless, shoeless, in the cuck chair in this hotel room, wondering what the fuck it all means. Well. He knows what it means to him, despite how much he’s been trying to ignore it. He’s introspective, like that. And he’s not an idiot.
The answer to everything sort of lies with Will. And he’s not even sure Will’s ready to unpack it. Say what you will about the South, but at least James has - somewhat - got his shit together.
It’s after one am, and the shower’s just turned off. A moment later, Will comes out of the bathroom, shirtless, grey joggers slung low across his hips. He swipes a towel through his hair, bleary-eyed. “Jim?” He says, and his voice is shattered, absolutely torn to shreds.
“Yeah?”
He looks so defeated that James just stands up and hugs him. It’s a lot better now that he’s not so stinky, and he sighs, sinking into his arms. “Thank you.” He says, cheek pressed against his chest, and then again. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t do anything, mate. I should be thanking you.”
“Mhmm.” Will sighs, and just stands there, sleepily, holding him for almost too long.
“You do need to go to bed.”
“Yeah…” Will draws back, warmth slipping away, and just looks at him for a second. He’s so tired, so clearly exhausted, but, “Fuck it.”
The kiss comes as a surprise. It’s out of fucking nowhere, and it’s from Will, of all people. Will, who has never been the kind of person to even lean into something like this. But it’s… nice. He tastes like toothpaste, and absolutely melts under his hands, which is pleasant, and nice and oh god , it’s still 1am.
“Will?” James asks, gently, after they part. “Do you maybe want to talk about this?” There’s so much under it all. So much wider context, and he doesn’t even know how he’s going to deal with it all in the light of day.
Will just stares back at him, so exhausted, but there’s a gentle happiness in his eyes. He wraps his fingers around James’ hand, and pulls him towards the bed. “Later?”
You know what? “Later.” James agrees, ‘cause he’s got far more interesting things to think about.