𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝; byler

- ¢нαρтєя иιиєтєєи -

WILL DIDN'T LOOK Back.

He couldn't look back, or he'd give up and run straight up the stairs and into Mike's arms. He hated that he was causing Mike pain- because that was the last thing he'd ever want to do.

Leaving that apartment was the hardest thing he had ever done in his life. Leaving Mike, seeing the confusion and hurt on his face as he left, was almost too hard to bare.

Every step he took, more tears fell. Every step, he felt his heart breaking a little more.

You did the right thing, he told himself, you have to protect him. If he really was the one to blame for all the bizarre things that had happened, if the shadow monster really did follow him, he couldn't risk anyone else.

Especially not Mike. 

Mike. The unbelievably handsome, incredibly loving, most amazing boyfriend in the world. The boy that had stuck with him through everything he had gone thorough, the one constant in his mess of a life. The love of his life.

He couldn't put him at risk. It wasn't fair. If there was even a shadow of a doubt- and there definitely seemed to be one now- that the monster was coming back, he had to protect him. And he wasn't El, he didn't have awesome powers to defend Mike with. The only way for him to protect him was to leave him.

He clutched onto the bag tighter. Where would he go now? Not Hawkins. Hawkins he'd be risking his mom, El, Dustin, Lucas, Max...

And yeah, El was strong. But that didn't mean she could protect everyone. The way she couldn't protect Bob, Hopper....

They all died because of you, a vicious voice in his mind called, you caused everything. You killed them, you killed Barb, you killed Billy....

The tears were almost completely blocking his view. It was all his fault. And now? Now he had to get rid of everyone he loved. He had to live with these terrible episodes completely alone.

He stopped at once, staring at the building in front of him, and let out a bitter chuckle.

Without even noticing, his feet had carried him to the Garage. Even when (for once) he hadn't thought about drinking, even when he had just been here not three hours ago, he had brought himself back.

He dug into the pocket of his sweatshirt- Mike's sweatshirt- to find a crumpled 10 dollar bill. Could he afford to spend that much on alcohol, for the second time in one night? No. 

Should he even drink anymore, when he was already finding it tough enough not to fall over? No.

Was he going to?

Definitely.

✴ ⁕ ✴ ⁕ ✴

As he drank, he thought.

The amount of drinks he had already consumed, he figured he had about 3 more drinks before complete lights out; or at least until his mind would stop functioning for real. As much as he wanted to get to this point already, as much as he wanted that comforting ease that would make him forget all about Mike, all about the monster- he had to figure out a plan first.

Now, he was already pretty damned wiped, so thinking a plan wasn't easy. 

But he knew he had to figure out what he wanted to do. Well, what he truly wanted to do is grab that bottle of tequila hanging right behind the bar and drink until he passed out, maybe never to be awoken again- but that wasn't what he was going to do.

He wanted to avoid causing his loved ones pain, that was the whole point. And if there was one thing his overdose had taught him, the few people that loved him truly loved him. He couldn't imagine the pain him dying would have on his mom, Jonathan, Mike...