It's kind of the saddest thing William's ever received in his inbox.


Not really. More like beautiful.


Gabe's holed up in the studio, broadcasting it to the whole world and William watches when he can, but that's not often. That's the sad part. He can see Gabe, but Gabe can't see him. Or hear him. It aches. When it's too early to be the middle of the night, but too late to be the early morning, William opens a message from Gabe.


It isn't as simple as some of the messages Gabe sends, quickly between recording takes or falling asleep. There isn't much space between punctuation and the voice William reads it in is tired and hungry. In need of something that's too far off to touch. Mirage-like. He knows the feeling, can read the riddles in the message well.


bilvy, the world feels smaller.and when it gets like that, idon't know how to feel.maybe it won't hold a heart as big as yours. what then? what then. idon'tknow. this record is going completely out the window and new days are kicking it back in with the sun everytimei think of you. going at it hard from purple to blue. new colors. new songs, right. iwish you were here. and i don't mean on my keyboard. i mean here. right here. with me. i can't figure out why gossip girl is getting solame. you can't either because you don't watch it. we'll fix that. touring. don't you miss the stage we met on. i do. this song reminds me of that. you. us. thewhole world feelin' too small for it to hold our hearts. fuck am i pete yet?

xxx


William smiles with tired eyes and cheeks, chapped lips the entire way through the message and decides to call Gabe when he can. Maybe after he reads the message again and hears the song. Heartbeats.


William knows this song. It's a Jose Gonzalez song. Except, at the very same second, it isn't. What it is, it's a cover of the song, done quietly by Gabe. He trips over the chord at first, utters a curse under his breath, but close enough to the microphone to hear. His voice sounds like wounded, torn pages out of a book. That's the sad part.


The beautiful part is that William knows that this is what Gabe sounds like after an entire day of recording. And just after surgery, grating his voice on a song like this, that feels like it means too much to hold onto, William curls up in his desk chair and repeats the song until he falls asleep again. Flashback dreams of when he and Gabe met. When they clicked, got each other's humor the moment their eyes met. The way Gabe felt for the first time. The way it's good when they're together after a period of time that lasts this long.


It aches like a nightmare and feels like a dream.


William replies to Gabe's message. (He understands that he doesn't call, because riddles and rhymes put into text need to be sent back just the same.)


Gabanti, I miss you. Post song, I feel sick in a good way. I miss you in the worst way. You can hurry up and miss me, finish the record and run the streets with all the boys again. We'll make the world big again. Nobody's crushing our hearts. Impossibly made of stone. I can make you crumble. We know. Tonight was easier to swallow. Thank you. The song was too easy to listen to and see you. Fell asleep that way. I'm calling when I can.


Until then. x


The song is easy enough to learn. The internet is full of guitar tabs and open lyric sites. William learns the song in an hour and plays it to himself, nearly sick every time with butterflies and his chest aching for Gabe. But they can't see or hear each other. It's not so desperate -- but it feels like it -- when William sets up his camera, and films it. And scraps it because his hand slips from nervous sweat.


He calls Gabe.


"Bilvy!"


"Gabe, hi," William says. "You sound tired, were you asleep?"


"We were practicing. I miss you."


"No," William nods. "I know. I miss you, too. Uh - stay on the line. I'm gonna do something."


Faintly, William hears Gabe ask if he should take his pants off. He just laughs, mumbling, "No." To himself, "Not yet anyway."


It's better this way. With Gabe almost in the room. Singing at the phone next to the camera. He can play Heartbeats and know that Gabe can hear him. If they try, it's almost literally felt. It's sad. And beautiful. To feel so wrecked and tired after just one song, William wants an actual stage and lights and Gabe sweating next to him in whatever hoodie he wants to wear. It wouldn't matter.


William shuts the camera off.


"Gabe?"


"Bilvy."


William smiles, "I know." He bites his lip and sets the guitar down. "Gabe. Promise me that no matter how far apart we are, we'll be fine."


Gabe doesn't hesitate. "We will."


William nods like that's it and he believes it. Because he does. It's hard not to believe Gabe, especially when he wants something as bad as William.