Chapter Text
Bomont had become quiet— ever since Ren left.
The town itself had always felt constricted and heavy, almost claustrophobic, like someone had taken a rope to your neck and just pulled until the air was forced from your lungs, but it was never quiet. Silence was one of those things the small town instinctively avoided, almost as much as dancing.
You didn’t have to walk far to find someone talking about someone else, and conversations tended to linger from house to house (when Cindy Addis had gotten pregnant junior year, talk hadn’t died down until her baby girl had turned six months old, and even then it wasn't uncommon to hear people still make rude comments behind closed doors). Church potlucks, PTA meetings, and late nights out at the drive-in often brought contagious gossip that only grew louder the more people you knew.
But Bomont was quiet now, more than it had ever been. Even the squirrels and birds and trees had seemed to pick up on the tension, stilling neighborhood streets when the hustle and bustle of daily life used to be heard through the cracks of the door.
It’s...weird, to say the least.
Willard never really paid that much attention to the chatter of his peers, much less the subject of whatever had caught their (albeit limited) attention span.
If someone had asked him ‘why’ a year ago, he probably would have said that it was because he just didn't find much fun in ‘prattling about nonsense’ (the actual truth was he didn’t understand half of what people were saying these days).
Now, every time he so much as catches a hint of his best friend’s name leaving the mouth of one of his former classmates, he can’t help but suddenly become very interested in the conversation. Something—anything, even a rumour of Ren's existence would have been enough to placate Willard’s curiosity.
The thing was, people kind of just… stopped talking about Ren after his departure.
In fact, even mentioning him seemed to stir up some irrational fear of acknowledgement in the hearts of Bomont’s citizens. Sure, senior prom was a hit, and would go down in history as one of the greatest revolutionary acts pulled off by a group of restless teenagers this side of the midwest, but bringing up the slick, city kid that led the damn thing? Suddenly, the conversation was over, period, and the weather had become the most interesting thing anyone had ever heard of. It was like his best friend had become some old war hero that had gone and died—but you couldn't talk about him because it would “make your folks upset”.
Even worse, it reminded him of how things used to be before Ren’s arrival, when discussing the Potawney Bridge Incident outside of the comforts of your home earned you a stern talking to by one of the parishioners about the importance of ‘knowing when to keep your mouth shut’.
Willard called bullshit on the whole thing.
In reality, Ren leaving hadn't been because of some dramatic, earth-shattering controversy that caused him to flee like those women in the old noir movies, nor did he meet a gruesome end like those kids driving on that bridge.
No, it turns out when he and Ariel had gotten together (no shocker there), and once high school was over, college was—of course the next sight the couple had their eyes set on.
It was common knowledge that Ariel wanted out.
Always did—in fact she talked so much about leaving her small town that folks half expected to wake up one day to hear the news that she had up and left in the middle of the night.
So it made perfect sense that she'd want to move across the country to go to college, somewhere far away from the watchful eyes of her father.
What people didn't expect was for Ren to follow right after her. Willard was shocked, he made that known as soon as Ren announced he’d be driving all the way to West Virginia to join his girlfriend in her academic endeavors.
Originally, he had brushed it off as one of Ren’s impulsive decisions, like when he spoke up against the Bomont council, or threw a secret prom despite the ‘no dancing’ law. But as the weeks passed, and Ren showed no sign of letting up on this idea, Willard started to get concerned.
Apparently, dropping subtle hints into conversation that West Virginia was infested with snakes wasn't as smart as he thought. Really, anything Willard said about how dangerous, or polluted, or crowded West Virginia was flew right over Ren’s head. Instead, Ren just responded with things like “Willard, you’re funny,” or “Willard, you sure these thoughts aren't hurting your head?”, all the while staring so intently into Ariel’s eyes, you'd think they were communicating telepathically.
But he really tried. He thought he’d be able to convince Ren that this was a terrible idea, and in fact, staying in Bomont was actually the smartest thing anyone could do.
If only he knew how wrong he would be.
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“So, what, you’re really gonna leave? Just because she said so?” Willard asked, standing off to the side on the concrete road, arms folded across his chest awkwardly as Ren finished loading his little yellow bug with the last remaining boxes.
The weather forecast predicted a high of 108° degrees for today, and standing directly under the sun made for a very uncomfortable time. Clouds had started shifting away from the sun as well, depleting Ren and Willard of the early morning shade that came with summers in Oklahoma.
Ren chuckled, shoving another wrapped piece of his collapsible high bar as far back as it could go. “She didn't force me to go, if that's what you’re wondering, man,” he said, “I volunteered. Because I wanted to.”
“But—but what about everyone else here? You looked right as rain with the uh—uh the dancin’ and whatnot.”
Ren snorted at that, wiping the sweat from his forehead as he shut the trunk and turned around to face his best friend with a goofy grin on his face.
“Yeah, the dancing,” he repeated dreamily, taking two steps around his car so he could stand next to Willard. “It's just, Ariel—she’s so amazing, y’know? I’d do anything for her.” He stared off past the roofs of the houses, no doubt thinking about the girl that had climbed into his heart and decided to stay there.
When Willard cleared his throat impatiently, Ren snapped out of his romantic trance and shook his head with an embarrassed laugh. “Besides,” he reached over to clap Willard on the back, “I've taught you practically everything I know, I think you'll be fine on the dancing part. If you want, you can teach Rusty some moves to ‘carry on my legacy’ if you’re so worried about it.”
At that he raised his eyebrows suggestively, obviously implying that dance moves would not be the only thing Willard could “teach” Rusty.
Willard huffed, “Tha’s not what I’m talkin’ about and you know it.”
A beat. Slowly, the smile faded from Ren’s face. He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, absently flicking a drop of sweat that had started down his cheek. “Look, Willard, it’s not like I won’t miss this place,” he gestured to the houses lining the empty street, “But there's really not much keeping me here. I don’t know why you're making such a big deal about it.”
Willard was getting antsy now, as he always did when his gut told him a fight was about to break out. Both boys had turned to face each other on the sidewalk.
“I ain’t makin’ a big deal about nothin’. I’m simply tryin’ to understand why you have to leave.”
Ren narrowed his eyes. “I already told you why. This is my own decision, you can’t change my mind.” He spun around and started for the car.
“Oh but she can?” Willard responded hotly. The sun had now forced its way past the clouds entirely, casting everything in a scorching wave of heat. Willard felt the sweat beading under his cowboy hat. He shuffled nervously as Ren turned slowly and faced him with an inquisitive look.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.
The question made Willard frown. He had no idea why he said something like that, it came out of nowhere in a flash of…anger? No, that couldn't be it. His mama always did tell him he had a knack for saying the wrong thing or sticking his nose where it didn't belong. He cleared his throat and stared into Ren’s wild blue eyes.
“It's just that uh—well you said that you’re doing this for yerself, yeah? Nothin’s keeping you here?” he licked his lips and swallowed, scuffing the rocks underneath his feet with his boots, “I just think you’re bein’ a dumbass right now, doin’ this for Ariel’s sake ‘n all.”
Ren’s eyes widened, and his nostrils flared. At once, Willard knew he had fucked up.
“You’re kidding me?” Ren said quietly. “I can think for myself, you know. Not everything I do revolves around her.”
“Well, it sure seems like it. Ever since you two got together, you haven't been able to keep your damn hands off of her.”
“Because she’s my girlfriend?”
Willard laughed at that. The frown between Ren’s eyebrows grew deeper. His hands balled up into fits by his side.
“Now, you’re just playin’ dumb,” Willard jeered. “When was the last time you did something without her, huh? I can’t remember the last time we did something, just the two of us.”
“But why?” Ren cried out in exasperation, throwing his arms up into the air like heaven had personally offended him “Why does that matter? Why do you even care? If you had a problem with her, why didn’t you say anything?”
“I don’t have a problem with her!” Willard retorted angrily. The heat was almost unbearable now. “And I certainly don’t have a problem with you, so if you’re so ready to leave ‘city-boy’ then see if I care!”
Ren snarled. “Admit it, you're just jealous because I was your only friend, and now that I've decided to do something with my life, you're throwing a hissy-fit.”
“Fuck that,” Willard spat. His fingers had started twitching. “You’re just scared that Ariel will leave and won't give you a second thought once she's gone, and then you’ll be alone again. Just like when your father left.”
“Leaving this place was the best decision I’ve ever made, and at least I’ll be far away from asshole hicks like you who can’t keep their fucking mouths shut.”
In a blink, Willard's arm had whipped around and struck Ren clean across the face.
Silence. Oh no.
Ren froze, mouth half-way open as if he was going to make another retort, then closed it slowly. He stood up, and his arms came to rest limply at his sides. After a long pause (almost as unbearable as the heat), he turned around and opened the car door slowly before clambering inside and slamming the door shut.
Willard snapped out of his trance at the sound, arm still throbbing, and rushed over to the window. The mark had started to turn bright pink against Ren’s cheek, but he paid no attention to it.
“Ren, I’m so, so—uh, I don’t— I didn’t…” he trailed off. Ren didn’t even spare him a glance, he simply started the car. Willard swallowed thickly and blinked away the tears that had started forming in the corners of his eyes.
Fear shot up through his spine as the car slowly rolled away, then picked up the pace down the street.
He ran as fast as his sturdy legs could carry him, until he was standing in the middle of the street, panting as tears rolled down his face.
As a last ditch effort, he cupped his hands around his face to amplify his voice the best he could, “Just—send me a postcard when you get there, will ya? Ren?” his voice cracked as Ren’s name left his mouth, and the yellow car turned at the end of the street.
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There wouldn’t be a postcard. There hadn’t been one in two years.
And now Willard was in one of his ‘moods’ again. Goddammit.