Life, or something west of it.

Theo and William are fighting. I know this because William is holed up in his castle, being bristly and chuttering. Theo seems fine, so maybe it is only William that is fighting. He really resents Theo lately. This is mainly because Theo is sending demos to record companies, hoping to get his eclectic mix of folk-mocktronica "out there". His promising future and tiny little quiff are seriously getting on William's wick. Right on his wick as a matter of fact. Theo has basically spent his time in our lives searching endlessly for William's wick and now he has finally found it. He will probably never leave William's wick. Especially if a recording contract is forthcoming. For William too, once harboured  dreams of music-related success.
FLASHBACK!!!
The year is 1998 and William is a hot young guinea pig about the time. whether he is strolling the boulevards of Sligo or wondering whether he could get away with wearing two popped collars at once. Two popped collars was, and still is, a bit much but back then there was very little William couldn't get away with.  Sligo, co-incidentally was home to a band of boys - the catchily named IOYOU (pronounced "I owe you"). They had recently had a meeting with one Louis Walsh, who told them that they had to "find a handsome one, and promptly." William fit the bill like the handsomest overdraft ever. He couldn't sing, of course, because he was a guinea pig. But they told him that that probably wouldn't matter. Probably is a very dangerous word. Especially in the cruel world of pop and roll.

CUT TO...
the year is still 1998, but it's July instead of earlier in the year. William has been performing with IOYOU (Now named Westside after the handsomest side of William's face) for three months, to packed houses and really enjoyable first holy communions. He does a great "On Eagle's Wings" and has been trying to write his own songs too. Nothing brilliant, you understand. Just a few things he's jotted down on the back of napkins. Nothing earth-shattering or anything. But still. Maybe they could be B-sides on the album. There's probably definitely going to be an album, Louis says. And William is excited. He has this idea about them all wearing different versions of the same outfit so people know that they're individuals, but the kind of individuals that also form a unit. Also, someday he would really like to wear matching cream pinstriped suits and fedoras. He knows it sounds crazy, but he thinks it would look suave and help people to take their music seriously. William talks a lot about the music. He knows he's really only in the band because of his looks but, my God, the harmonies and smoothness of the other lads is compelling. He'd do anything to see them succeed. But sadly, William's bright future is haunted by a sort of future-darkening cream, in the shape of one Bryan with a y even though I was christened Brian with an i Mc Fadden. William is handsomer, but Bryan can hold a tune. And he has curtains in his hair. William's fur won't grow long enough to fit curtains in it. And in 1998, curtainy hair and being handsome are inextricably linked. The tough call is made, just as William orders an expensive japanese robot body so he can be as tall as the other boys when they're onstage. The lads are sorry, they really truly are. But there's just no way that Westside can accommodate two handsome ones. It's a mathematical impossibility. the joy and fun that they had is over forever. The sun hides behind a cloud and William puts a brave face on and pretends that he is cool with it, even when they changed the name of the band so as not to make Kian think about William and cry.

FLASHFORWARD..
"I got that cyborg on higher puchase" William mutters "They repossessed it later. It was absolutely beautiful. 5'10 of pure technology. Looked great in a catsuit. Especially with my bambi-eyed head up top." He stares into the distance.
"I often wondered if they thought of that, later when curtains became less fashionable and Bryan less handsome. Also I wondered if they suspected that it was me who was posting them envelopes filled with guinea-poo and tears. I also got the envelopes on higher purchase. Paid them off though. Every cent. In time. Excuse me, I think I see Theo enjoying himself. I have to go and threaten to bite him"

And he is gone, like a number 16A in the night, waggly, dignified and still, after all these years, unquestionably handsome. I'm not saying that Westlife, as they became, made the wrong call. Only they kind of made the wrong call didn't they. Should have been William.