𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝; byler

- ¢нαρтєя тωєиту ѕιχ -

MAYBE THE WISE THING to do would have been to lay Will down in one of those soft- looking couches in the lobby- but Mike couldn't do it.

This mental hospital, or whatever the fuck that place was, was scaring the shit out of him. He didn't want to spend even a single second more in there and even more than that- there was this feeling deep inside him, this little sinister voice in the very back of his mind telling him that staying there wouldn't be safe. Not for him- but way less for Will. Something inside of him just knew that every second spent in there was a second spent in grave danger.

So he held onto Will as tight as he could, and walked out of there as fast as he could without rattling Will too much. 

The moment the slightly warm night air hit his face, a small exhale of relief left his lips. Already, everything felt a little better: but that relief didn't last even a second. Because everything was still inherently wrong: the drinking, and the episodes.... And the basically unconscious Will in his arms. He continued his fast walk, until he found a bench.

 Granted, the bench wasn't as far from that building as he wanted it to be (it was still very much in plain sight); but it would have to do. He didn't want to carry Will around for too long, since for some reason every step they took Will started to look greener and greener- even though Mike was trying so hard to keep his body still he seemed very motion sick. He needed a rest.

He laid the frail boy on the bench as gently as he could, propping him so he was almost sitting.

"Will? Will?" He said, his voice soft and patient, crouching down on his knees in front of the boy. No response.

Mike gently pushed Will's hair from his face, freeing his eyes. They still looked weird and unfocused- but at least they were open.
"Hey, Will. Baby, I need you to look at me. Can you do that for me? I'm right here, can you see me?" He continued, still patient, as Will's pupils darted around. He was hoping his sheer panic didn't echo into his voice- because he was positively terrified. When finally Will's eyes landed on his face he smiled a comforting smile.

"Good job! I'm right here for you, okay?"" He grabbed Will's hand and squeezed it tightly, "What can I do to make you feel better?"

For a second Will didn't respond again, until finally one word, so soft it was barley audible.

"Water".

"okay, okay! That's good. I'll get you water just- just don't move." Mike jumped to his feet, searching frantically for somewhere he could get water. Idiot! He screamed at himself internally, how did you not think to bring him some water?

But to his luck, he spotted a tiny grocery store just steps away. He didn't want to leave Will- but he really looked like he needed that water.

And so he made a run for it, coming back not two minutes later with two huge water bottles. To his relief, Will hadn't moved a muscle.

"Here," He said, He put the bottle to Will's lips and waited as the brunette drank... and drank... and by the time he pulled back the bottle was more than halfway empty. 

Will was looking better and better each second: Not as green anymore, his cheeks gaining some red splotches of warmth. But he wasn't back to normal yet, and Mike really truly needed him to be. And before Mike could decide if it was a good idea or not, he threw the remains of the water at Will's face.

✴ ⁕ ✴ ⁕ ✴

Probably an idiot's move: But luckily he had that idiot luck too- because Will started to cough wildly, but also sat up straighter. And when he lifted his arms to clear some of the water from his face Mike almost cried with relief. He was coming around.