𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝; byler

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒑𝒔𝒆 (𝑩𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝑰𝑰)- 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐞

yep... I did it!

Guys, welcome to "Relapse", or "Addicted"- book 2!

So the main thing I wanted to stay away from writing this is just repeating the plot of addicted because that tends to happen with sequels lol so this one is pretty different, it's for sure more plot-centric but it's still Byler and cute and ahh give it a chance, I promise I put a lot of effort into making this interesting:) 

Anddd I added a little IT crossover, so like Reddie and stuff : It's not the biggest element but it's still cute:)

So yeah, hope you have as much fun reading it as I had writing it, and thanks for all the support on addicted you guys are the best!

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ρяσℓσgυє

ONE BREATH IN, Two breaths out. One breath in, two breaths out, Will tried reminding himself. Despite the relentless chanting in his head, his breaths stayed short and shaky. Panicked.

He was panicked, and he didn't know how to calm down.

Will turned his broken glaze to the ceiling slowly. He hoped the blankness of a white ceiling would make him feel normal again, maybe if he focused on it he would convince himself he was back home...

But it wasn't white. Maybe it had been, at some point; but now it was the color of an old piece of parchment. the yellow-tint was stained with gray and green spots of mold, and he could see little cracks forming in various parts. It seemed like it could fall in at any minute.

He hugged his knees even tighter to his chest, the green gown he was forced into sliding further up so the scratched, bloody spots were visible once again.

He was trying very hard to stifle the sob building inside his chest like a volcano. The sound broke out of his tightly pursed lips in the form of a light whimper.

He sunk further into himself, letting himself wallow even deeper in the profound sorrow he felt taking him over.
His back was pressed hard against the soft, white pillows cushioning the walls.

He had done this. He had ruined everything.

He was cold, he was tired, but most of all he was thirsty. His throat was so dry even swallowing his spit took effort. He tried licking his lips, but even his tongue felt dry. He moved, still on his knees and glanced out of the small window on his door into the hallway, where he could see a guard fast asleep on a desk...

... with that big water cooler right next to him.

If he could only speak, if he could only ask the guard for a cup of water. Will knew he would hear him if he talked loud enough, and he would bring it... Just one cup, just one to quench that unbearable thirst.

No, That vicious voice in his mind decided. No. You should be thirsty. You should be worse than thirsty, you should be starving, you should be dead. You deserve it all. You should suffer.

He tried ignoring the voice, but it apparently controlled his lips because even when he opened them no sound came out.

Or maybe he was just that thirsty.

He was shaking with silent tears. He didn't know how long he had been in that god-awful place, because there were no windows he could see. It had to be at least a night, right? maybe two days? he didn't know. He had been wide awake for so long, it felt like a whole year.

He sat back down, pushing his back even harder on the wall. He was moving so slowly, everything felt kind of dazy and confused and slow- He wanted to feel pain, but the pillows were preventing him from achieving that.

After all, that was why they were there: to keep the crazies from hurting themselves.

"I'm not crazy!!" He yelled out into the empty room. So he could speak. The words were scratching his throat on the way out and his voice didn't sound like his own but still. He had to sat it. He had to say something to fill that silence.

He couldn't believe he had ended up here. He couldn't believe what he might've done.

If someone would just tell him what he had done!! if someone would just tell him what atrocious thing he had done to end up in an insane asylum, or whatever this place was.

If someone would just remind him, because he couldn't put his finger on it, try as he might to remember.

And he had tried, alright; it's not like he had much else to do in the time he had spent there. Everything was fuzzy: Had they given him something? yes, they must've. A hazy memory... guards carrying him in here, him screaming and trying to get away, a needle in his back...

But why, why he was brought in here- that he couldn't figure out.

He knew he wasn't crazy. Stupid? yes. Damaged? much more than anyone he knew.

But crazy? that he wasn't.

But he was also sure that something bad was coming. He  wasn't sure what it was, but he knew it was something terrible. He knew something was about to go terribly wrong, something that would hurt people.

Something that would hurt Mike.

He knew had failed to protect him from it-

And that knowledge made him want to rip himself apart.

✴ ⁕ ✴ ⁕ ✴

The fluorescent white lights on the ceiling shook.

Someone was moving through the hall outside, fast. loud voiced muffled by the pillows on the wall sounded around him. His head stayed in his hands, too tired and dazed to move it. whatever he had been injected with took every ounce of strength he ever possessed.

A male voice, climbing up and up with anger. A female voice, calmer, maybe trying to reason? Will couldn't understand what they were saying- and couldn't really care either. Everything seemed surreal.

The voices got louder and louder- until finally, Will heard the lock on his door shake.