𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝; byler

- ¢нαρтєя ѕєνєи -

IT WAS LIKE nothing had happened.

He was sitting at his table, the class was full of light and people. But how? He was just by the door a moment ago! 

His breathing was heavy, and he was looking around the classroom frantically.  A soft whimper left his lips. He felt his forehead wet with cold sweat, and seemed to feel his heart beat hard against his rib-cage. This was different than any episode he ever had before- his movement in the upside down always echoed his movement in the real world! But this time he had moved, and somehow stayed completely seated?

"Holy shit, Will!" Bev's voice called from beside him. He looked at her, barley able to see through his panic. 
"Holy shit!" She said again. Had she noticed his episode? But then he realized- she wasn't even looking at him, but at his paper. He followed her gaze, and was so shocked he was momentarily completely back to reality.

The piece of paper, that had been blank right before his episode, was now completely transformed. 

It was a stunning painting, composed of black and red pencil lines. It's hard to explain what the painting was of, but there was something extraordinary about it. Something that made it impossible to tear your eyes away from. It had no words, but the whole thing just screamed fear. If you knew the assignment, it was crystal clear what quality was drawn-

"fear. You think you're too afraid," Beverly said slowly, as if reading his mind.

I'd say coward, Will thought. But- he hadn't drawn it. He couldn't have, he had been in the upside down, how could he have drawn it? 

But he knew he had drawn it. Even though the drawing was way more gorgeous than anything he could've come up with, it was his drawing. He knew himself well enough to know this was the way he painted with pencil. It was his drawing, but he had no recollection of drawing it.

"Fuck you! How how are you so talented?" Beverly said again, punching his shoulder. Will sneaked a look at her paper: It was a simple drawing of a 1 kilogram weight, on an empty white background. 

"You're not weak, Bev," He said through his daze: He really couldn't care less about her drawing, not know.

"Phew, you got it. At least I won't fail,"Bev said. She messed up her hair slightly, and sighed.
Right, it was a test. But it couldn't be over, could it? there was no way 90 minutes had already passed! 

However, the people lining up in the front of the class holding their papers begged to differ. 
"You coming?" Beverly asked. She was already standing, bag on her shoulder, sweatshirt slung on it and the drawing in her hand. 
"Y-yeah," He said. He got up, picked up his stuff. Everything was too slow, too fast- everything felt wrong.

The line to the teacher's desk moved fast. Will was pretty sure he saw the blonde woman who had dropped that pencil, that damned pencil that sent him back into his episode, staring at him. He must've looked a mess: He definitely felt a mess.

He put his paper on the teacher's desk and headed out, Beverly talking beside him.
"Wow, I've never seen anyone work like you. You're like a fucking artist, Byers. You drew like it was the only thing on your mind, I legit don't think you lifted the pencil from the paper for a second-"

How, how could I have drawn it if I was all the way in a different dimension? He wanted to yell. He wanted to curl into a little ball and shake. He couldn't function. He wanted Mike to hold him until everything was okay again. He wanted him to take him home, like he did that day on Halloween all those years ago...

But of course, Mike didn't come. He didn't know there was anything wrong with Will- because he couldn't deny it any longer: Something was wrong with him. his nerves were wound up so tight he felt he might explode.

And as he walked to his next class, trying to shake it off, he couldn't ignore another (very disturbing) fact: 

He really wanted a drink.

✴ ⁕ ✴ ⁕ ✴

He fainted in the next class.

The nurse determined he had a high fever and sent him home to rest, excusing him from the rest of the day. He didn't want to go home, he didn't want to be alone, but he had no real choice.

He sat on the sofa of their living room, wrapped in every blanket they owned. He still felt frozen, even with the claims of fever. He was trying to work through the weird episode: It wasn't like the first one. The first one was a flashback, the first one sent him back to Hawkins.

He could cope with the first one.

This one... This one felt real. This one was new. It couldn't be happening again, right? No. El had closed the gate, she had closed it! There was no way he was back again.

The only reason he knew that was the drawing. That terrifying, beautiful drawing he had somehow drew. He was terrified with the thought of his body functioning with his mind stuck in the upside down. 

The front door burst open. 

Before he could even comprehend the sound, a pair of arms wrapped around him.

"I couldn't find you at school! Beverly said you looked pale, are you hurt??" Mike asked, hugging him so close Will was sure he could feel his shaking.
"I just felt a bit off so I went home to rest," He lied. He couldn't bring himself to tell Mike about his fainting, let alone episode.

"Baby! Why didn't you come to me, I'd driven you home- you shouldn't be alone like this-" Mike said. Will still couldn't see him, but felt his boyfriend's lips pressing slightly against his head. He leaned to the side, on Mike's shoulder.
"You shouldn't have come home for me, Mikey," He whispered.

"Don't be stupid. Of course I had to!" Mike responded, stroking his head comfortingly, "I'm right here until you get better. I love you, my poor baby." 
"I love you too," Will responded.

As much as he loved that Mike had done that for him, he was more certain now than ever: he couldn't tell Mike. Even if just the rumor that Will looked off made him ditch his whole day, what would the real story do?

✴ ⁕ ✴ ⁕ ✴

Will's fever died completely within an hour, according to the confused Mike holding the thermometer. Will still felt... frozen. Nothing warmed him up- not the hot bath, not the hot tea, not the blankets, not Mike's arms.

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[AUTHOR SAYS]

GUYS I PROMISE THIS IS GETTING BETTER

Its just that I have a lot of shit planned, and I really need these chapters so it makes sense ughh Im scared it's too different from addicted and people won't read it ahhh