Dr. Doctor (An Outlast Fanfic)

Two

Class usually went by fast. You take some notes, get a task, read over the procedures, throw on your PPE and gather your supplies, then you get to work. Experiment reports weren't that fun, but it comes easier the more you do. Just don't get confused while citing, and definitely don't plagiarize (because teachers can search that shit).

Waylon took many classes, and when he wasn't in class he was always studying. He didn't mind; putting his brain to work made time fly and brought a deep sense of satisfaction knowing that he was learning and was preparing for his future career. But for the past few days, he hadn't been getting any of the same feelings he used to towards school.

"Damn, yet another assignment. I already made all these models and noted their functionality." It wasn't uncommon for the blond to stay up all night doing some sort of research or revising, but his newfound bitchiness towards it all was starting to get on his roommates nerves.

"Way-Way, you've been complaining since before I went out, and that was five hours ago!" Miles Upshur wasn't usually one to complain, at least not to his best friend and 'brother from another bitch' as he liked to say. But it was hard to sleep off the alcohol and cheap tacos when all he heard was notebook paper flipping and deep sighs. A boy needed his sleep if he wanted to go out and party again the next night.

The brunette wanted to be a reporter, so his work wasn't near as much as a med students. He usually had it done by the time he got home, or he didn't do it at all. It's a wonder and god given miracle he still has the brain cells to go to classes with how much of a gregarious little butterfly he was. The man, the legend, Mr. Miles Upshur. Waylon both admired and envied his skill of being able to wake up after a train wreck of a night and act like it never happened (minus the obvious hickies and claw marks he'd always done).

Waylon couldn't help his grumbling. How could he focus and stay motivated when all he could think about was interning? It had been almost a week, and he still hadn't heard anything back.

A light flop on the bed at his feet made Miles open his eyes, and he gave his disgruntled friend the most hungover and sleep deprived puppy eyes Waylon had ever seen. But the blond just returned the look, those sad blue eyes peering into his soul and-

"Fine, come up here you cry baby."

Snuggling is medically proven to help with mood, trust, depression, stress, and sleep. And Miles still smelt like himself, and a bit like Svedka, so Waylon happily cuddled up into his arms. The head resting atop his tangled hair -he had a habit of trying to rip the locks out when frustrated- let out a deep sigh, yet again reeking of vodka, but it was still oh so comforting. "You're more of a cry baby than I am, and you know I'm the world's biggest whiner." Miles' chest rumbled when he talked, and Way could feel the deep vibrations against his palms.

They'd been friends since high school, when they both met at a sleepover and were dumb enough to go 'explore' an abandoned house on the side of a country road. The cats running in and out of the place made Waylon comfortable enough to step foot in it, even if the floors were missing in some spots and there were mushrooms sprouting from the wood. Miles was excited, pretending to be a youtuber on a vlog or a ghost hunter- the usual Miles mischief. The inside smelt horrible, and Waylon made sure they both had their shirts over their noses before traversing deeper into the abandoned shack. A white wire bed frame was in the first room, and there were wooden planks all over, some even blocking the entrance to the room on the right. Neither can remember now what they had said to eachother, but it was a mix of curiosity, adrenaline induced craziness, and fear. Regardless, they continued to the back, a few cats running by their feet as they tip toed.

The back room had a table, and most of the wall was missing,  revealing the bright green grass behind it. The floor was also missing a lot, and they had to be careful about how much pressure they put on each step. Step, there were stairs on the far side of the area. They were broken, but a cat still climbed it's way up to escape the young strangers. "We should go up," is along the lines of what a young and stupidly ballsy Miles said. Waylon, however, wasn't trying to pop a knee back in place yet again, and had to grab his crack head friend by the then skinny arms to keep him from breaking his neck. Cats may be able to go, but Way was about to piss himself and if Miles got injured he'd be telling the whole school about how they trespassed on private property.