The Art Of Noticing

Chapter Seven: Will Gallagher.

I went home around 7:05. The sun was setting.

I tossed the keys onto the counter and pushed my shoes off from the back of my feet after entering the front door.

"Busy day?"

A familiar voice laughed to the right of me. I turned quickly. It took my brain a moment to register who it was.

"Will!" I exclaimed as I rushed over to my brother, squeezing him as tight as I could.

"Good to see you too, bud," he held me out by my shoulders to get a good look at me, "You look good. Confident. What happened? Did ya meet a girl?"

I smiled, "Maybe."

Will wrapped his arm around my shoulders as we headed downstairs.

I quickly jumped into the couch once in my room. Will laughed.

Will would normally visit three times a year. This time, he was here on his fall break, the shortest of his visits.

Every time he'd come, we'd get breakfast at Wetagers in the morning, and either go to the arcade or the movies in the afternoon.

That's how our day's normally consisted.

But this time, I had plans. I had friends. Friends I had yet to tell Will about.

"So how have you been? You seem different." he smiled.

"I've been alright. Busier, really."

"I can tell,"

"Yeah, I mean, I actually have friends now." I chuckled
"Peter and Autumn?"

"No. No, you haven't met this group yet."

"Group?"

"Yeah, there's me, Tom, Reese, Stacey, Griffin, and Ollie."

"Reese, huh?"

"What about her?"
"You said her name a bit differently than the rest of them."

I shrugged, trying my best to act coy.

"I don't wanna talk about me anymore," I said, changing the subject,"What about you? What was it that one girl called you? Boy Wonder? Living the college dream,"

Will scoffed, "I wish it was a dream."
"You don't like it there?"
"Well, I mean, there are definitely parts that I like. . . I just feel like there are certain things teachers should warn you about before they just send you off."

"Like?"

Will sighed with a look of exhaustion on his face hidden behind a smile.

He looked over at me, "I don't wanna talk about me anymore."

I chuckled.

Will scanned me up and down.

"What?" I laughed, nervous.

"You gonna talk about that girl?"
"What girl,"
Will raised an eyebrow, berating me with his eyes.
I sighed, "Okay, fine! I have a slight crush on that girl,"

"How long have you known her?"
"Bout a month and a half."
"And what's she like?"
"We don't have to talk ab-"

"Come on, dude. Humor me."
I sighed.

"You know Wetagers? That coffee shop we go to sometimes?"
"Yeah,"

"Well, she works there."
"Is that where you met her?"
I nodded, "She sort of befriended me. Introduced me to all of her friends. Then, they became my friends."

I glanced at Will, who was smirking at me.

"What?" I groaned

"Bro, you don't just like this girl."

"How could you possibly know that from the few short sentences I just gave you?"

"Cuz I know you. You don't just like her."

I stared at him for a moment, then back down at my feet.

"Will. . ."
"Sebastian."
"Stop,"
"What? I'm just messing with you,"
"I don't love her, Will! . . I can't love her."

Will didn't say anything else for a moment. His demeanor softened. He sighed quietly.

"Why not?"

"It's just. . . nothing good ever comes from me loving people. Something bad always happens."

Will put his hand on my shoulder.

"Sebastian. . . Lea was not your fault."

I didn't believe him, but instead of arguing, I faked a smile and said, "Sure. . . right."

He was wrong, though. Was Lea's death my fault? No. Not really.

But did me loving her help anything? Did me loving her solve anything? No. Not really.

It just might have made things worse.