[Despite Will's occasional disapprovals of Jeff's life choices, despite the fact he purposely summons the hulk against Jeff's wishes, and even despite the gratuitous infomodding, Will is still a friend. Possibly the best. He's the one Jeff turns to for help, the one Jeff texts first when there's anything to share and the one he's most willing to share his expensive alcohol with. It's because of this that Winger feels guilty, not in spite of it, like Will's the only person out there that still tugs at Jeff's moral compass enough to have him questioning that maybe he could be using his time more productively than helping fund drug dealers. He struggles to keep eye contact because he doesn't want to risk seeing disappointment, doesn't want to feel like he's failed in being a good companion. Being liked is all he really wants, just having someone there to occasionally pat him on the head and tell him he's a good boy and how well he's done.
He doesn't want to be the one creating more shit for Will while Will's recovering from his own issues, and while he's dealing with losing a family member. Goddamn that empathetic asshole for dealing with even that so well, optimistic about the time they'd had together rather than pessimistic about how it's been taken from him. Will, stop being such a great guy.
The words the follow get Jeff's gaze dropping again, his coffee placed on the counter as his head lowers, and maybe, just maybe there might be the chance to spot a glassy sheen on his eyes as his lips press together in a thin line. But then he's doing his best to cover for it, and what better way to hide than on Will? Without much warning he's clearly the gap between them and bearing down on his friend for an all encompassing bear hug, tight like he never wants to let go, face burying into Will's shoulder.]
I lost control. [Shut up, that's not a waver in his voice.]
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He doesn't want to be the one creating more shit for Will while Will's recovering from his own issues, and while he's dealing with losing a family member. Goddamn that empathetic asshole for dealing with even that so well, optimistic about the time they'd had together rather than pessimistic about how it's been taken from him. Will, stop being such a great guy.
The words the follow get Jeff's gaze dropping again, his coffee placed on the counter as his head lowers, and maybe, just maybe there might be the chance to spot a glassy sheen on his eyes as his lips press together in a thin line. But then he's doing his best to cover for it, and what better way to hide than on Will? Without much warning he's clearly the gap between them and bearing down on his friend for an all encompassing bear hug, tight like he never wants to let go, face burying into Will's shoulder.]
I lost control. [Shut up, that's not a waver in his voice.]