Control Alt Delete (A BH6 crossover)

Chapter Thirty Six: We don't have a choice.

Hiro knew it was morning when he opened his eyes. He knew he'd slept. He also knew there was something he should have done but hadn't, though he couldn't remember for sure what it was. He felt incredibly hot. His skin felt raw. And if that wasn't enough, his throat was as dry as a desert.

Sitting up, he felt as though his body was comprised of boulders grinding together. Perhaps this was what a hangover felt like. He wasn't sure. What he was sure about was when he looked over towards Tadashi's side of the room, he didn't see Tadashi.

Something painful tore in his heart as too many realities overlapped. But when he blinked, it seemed the world had gone out of focus, like someone had placed two or more overlapping images in front of him, each wavering and circling around the others so that nothing fit together correctly. It left him feeling nauseous and weak.

"Tadashi," Hiro croaked. Something was wrong, very wrong. He didn't know what just yet, but it was. The room seemed to heave as he slid his feet to the ground. Almost drunkenly, he staggered into the swivel chair in front of his computer.

Wincing, the boy tried to stand upright but couldn't. The world was spinning and he was spinning counter to it. But he wasn't about to give in. He pushed away from the chair he'd been holding on to for balance, a precarious thing at best as it kept moving, but it had been something.

Hiro blinked, trying to clear his vision. Where was Tadashi? Where was Aunt Cass? Baymax? Anyone? He stumbled forward once more and managed to run into the dresser before sliding to the floor. The piece of furniture shook with the impact, sending the lose items on and around it tumbling to the floor, some hitting against his body.

A soccer ball bopped Hiro on the head and he winced again. A choked sob escaped his throat as he slowly pushed up from the floor. He would beat this. Whatever it was, he would beat it. But he was oh so dizzy, and his head felt like it wanted to implode. Or was it explode? It was hard to tell.

Somehow, he managed to claw his way back up, using the dresser he'd bumped into to get back to his feet. Some of the drawers were slightly open, making that point a bit easier. Had he been drugged? Was this what it felt like to be high? If so, he felt sure he never wanted to do it again. Ever. But he had to find help, any kind of help. And that meant going downstairs since no one was in his room.

But the stairs looked so far away. In reality, they were only a meter or two distant from where he stood. But, in his current state, they might as well have been halfway across the planet. He tried to reach them anyway.

Moving like someone who had barely anything left in them, Hiro staggered in a manner that might be considered comical if it wasn't so serious. Bent half over, his arms went out at all angles, his legs threatening to buckle under him at any moment. He was so engaged in trying to reach his goal he didn't realize there was something else in his way until it was too late. He didn't even have enough in him to realize what it was, a discarded box.

Almost instinctively, Hiro curled his body into a modified fetal position as he went down. But the momentum didn't stop there. Instead of landing just short of the stairs, he tumbled down them. Luckily, his arms and legs were tucked in enough that he didn't sustain too much damage, but the sound he made coming down seemed to echo throughout at least the one level as he came to a rather grinding halt at the bottom, his face planting firmly into the floor of the second level. He had no idea how long he lay there, unable to breath from the impact.

Footsteps pounded from the floor below, slowly growing louder. In reality, they came faster than his brain could currently fathom, but that didn't matter as he saw not one pair of legs, but two.