48 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 ; byler

S. 2

THIS TIME WHEN MIKE woke up, he knew he was done sleeping.

he stretched slowly, feeling calm and sleepy but at the same time- well rested.
The fire was still burning idly in the trashcan. A small yawn escaped his lips as he glanced to the side.

This time, Will was still there. He had fallen asleep too: his head hung slightly, his eyes closed. His cheeks were flushed red, and he was curled on the chair. His light brown hair was messily covering his forehead, and his face was glittering with beads of sweat from the fire. He looked perfectly peaceful and so, so innocent in his sleep.

Mike filled with a weird need to sweep his hair away. He obviously couldn't do that, but for some reason he needed a lot of self control not to. 

He had to get out of there. 

He slowly got up, careful not to make any sound that would wake Will up. The moment he stepped away from the fire, he was freezing again. But he didn't care.

Mike strolled through the halls again, thoughts scrambling in his brain, making no sense. What was going on with him? why was his heart pounding almost painfully in his chest? He needed a distraction. Something real to think about, something that wasn't Will.

Mike realized this was his best chance to look through Will's bag again. Maybe he could fins something else that would explain the bizarre items he had found. 

The prospect of solving Will's mystery finally cleared Mike's head a little. Now he just had to find the bag.

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30 minutes and about twenty classrooms later, Mike found Will's bag. It was inside a classroom Mike didn't recognize on the other side of the school. Will had been right: even from there he could smell the smoke from the impromptu fire.

In the very back of the room, on one of the tables, Mike saw Will's sketch pad. Dozens of  pencils lay in a mess besides it, and a few on the floor. The bag was on the floor by the desk, tipped over. It was very obvious Will had rushed out of the room before he could get his bearings, or even straighten up the area.

Mike reached the desk and curiously peered at the drawing. It was of a meadow, but the grass was dark gray. The sky was gray too, and the sun was a deep, piercing black. On the grass was one flower (that was only half colored), brown and clearly withering: the stem was bent almost all the way over, and peddles were scattered on the ground besides it.

The picture was beautiful, but haunting. There was something so blatantly hopeless about the meadow, it was too lifelike not to be depressing. The longer Mike stared at it, the worse his unease got.

 Mike instinctively took a step back. He didn't know why, but the sketch really freaked him out. Like, really freaked him out.

The bag, he reminded himself, look in the bag.

Mike tore his eyes from the depressing sketch with immense difficulty. He crouched down on his knees and reached for the bag, trying to clear the drawing out of his mind.
He opened the tattered bag.

Same bizarre items: an old looking wool blanket, toothbrush,  pillow. It looked as if Will was planning to spend the night away from home... of course, he may have been going to sleep over at Max's... but if that was the plan, she would've come looking for him when he didn't show up.

Had Will been planing to spend the night at school? there was basically no other option... Will hadn't told him how he ended up in the school....

But why would he want that?

"Mike..." Again, Will's voice sounded from the door way. Mike looked back.

Will's hair was still messy, and his cheeks were flushed with embarrassment and maybe even a little burned from the fire. His eyes widened with fright when he saw Mike's position.

For a moment Mike forgot what he was doing, looking at Will. But when Will rushed to his side and grabbed the bag the weird clouds that covered his brain the moment Will entered the room cleared. 

WHAT WAS WRONG WITH HIM?? what were all these strange reactions to Will's presence and nothing else??

"So... I gather you need an explanation..." Will sighed, flopping down on the floor by Mike. Mike nodded firmly.

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"About three years ago- my mom she- she realized her and my d-d-dad never actually got divorced." Will started, and his voice was shaking. He was holding the wool blanket, mulling the torn edges of it. Mike kept silent, but his head got warm. Will's dad was a no-good loser, who did nothing but abuse his family and spend all their money at the bar. Mike remembered how much Lonnie Byers frightened even him when they were children. He was the opposite of his sweet innocent, son. A complete monster.

"So... she spent weeks trying to find him and then when she did he-he-he-he-" Will couldn't seem to get it out. He took a shaky breath.

"He- he wouldn't settle. He needed money. So they went to court and it was months and he had a better lawyer than my mom-" Will was defiantly on the verge of tears, his eyes shining, "He got everything. The house, the car-"

And then he paused, and his face got so white Mike thought he was going to puke again,

"-and me. Full custody."