It's All My Fault

Decline

It's all my fault I may die today.
———————————————————-
"Mrs Byers?" A nurse says, walking into the waiting area. It's been 30 minutes of silence. Almost everybody looks up, standing.

Mrs. Byers steps forward, hands shaking. "Is he..."
"Will is stable now. We had quite the scare, we almost lost him there. We are really trying to maintain the fever, but there is not much we can do for that. He's intubated and on a ventilator, because he stopped breathing on his own. It just means he has a long tube down his throat, that breaths for him. It's not the most comfortable, so he may appear to be in pain. He isn't. Just uncomfortable. Speaking of which, he is conscious, just very out of it. He doesn't remember much of what happened. He is still declining rapidly." The nurse says, clipboard in her hands. "I'm sorry. Just visit while you can."

Joyce nods, swallowing and going to the rest of the group. "We can come in now." She says softly, before turning and going to Wills hospital room.

Jonathan was the first to walk in. Once he did, he turned around, covering his face and burying it in Nancy's shoulder, breaking down. Nancy held him close, shaking slightly.

Joyce came in next, a tear slipping down her cheeks. She went over to Will, taking his hand gently. "Oh baby...." She whispers to him. His eyes were shut. He was intubated. Pale. In casts, obviously. Hooked up to all sorts of machines and IV's. Mike went to the other side of Wills bed, sitting on the edge of it.

"Will?" He whispers. He lifted his hand, moving a strand of Wills hair out of his face. Wills green eyes slowly were revealed from under his eyelids. Mike gently cupped Wills cheek. "It's okay. Try and relax. I know it's uncomfortable." He whispers.

Eddie glanced at Steve, giving him a look. The both of them then looked at Robin. She just nods. They were all talking to eachother in their heads.

They knew something was happening between Mike and Will. Rainbow sparks were coming off of Mike and Will.

Will tried to speak, so uncomfortable with the tube in his throat.

"No no baby...don't speak. Please just try and rest." Joyce whispers. Will whimpered slightly in response, his temperature up to 104.3. His heart rate was so fast...and his oxygen was doing better now that he was intubated. He wasn't breathing on his own, but now that he had something breathing for him, it was doing much better.

"I know you're sick, Will. Really sick, aren't you?" Mike says, grabbing a damp cool towel and gently dabbing Wills forehead. Will tried to nod. "You scared?..." Mike whispers softly, slowly understanding that Will wasn't whimpering because of the tube. Will never did well with pain, but he wasn't one to complain a lot. He was whimpering because he was scared.

Scared.

Because he dying.