'i don't have anywhere else to go.' - a sleepy boys inc story

six

Phil is woken by a faint yell from upstairs. Shaking the warm weight of his blanket off of him, he tilts his head from left to right, stretching his neck that was turned back for the last few hours.

After Tommy had fainted the day before, he, Techno, and Wilbur had been taking shifts looking over the teen, switching every few hours or so. Glancing over at the clock hanging on the wall, he sees that it's almost time for the brunette's shift and looks around for the boy he is supposed to be minding.

"Tommy?"

He hears a second panicked shout and he groans as he stands up. "PHIL!"

Anxiety begins to set in, he begins to worry, he begins to imagine the worst.

"TOMMY?" He bellows up the stairs as he starts to run to the staircase and up the stairs.

A strained cry comes from the room farthest from the stairs as he reaches the top. Almost sprinting to the door, he slams it open and runs into his oldest son's room, feet thudding against the carpet loudly.

"Tommy." The boy is sitting in the archway of the ensuite bathroom, crying, and Wilbur is passed out cold in his arms.

"Phil. Help. Help me." His voice is strangled and croaky from panicky sobbing. Tear tracks stain his red face as he looks up at him, helpless, hyperventilating anxiously. "I found him- I was looking around and I just wanted to see what it was like- I-I wanted to see his room and I heard a noise and then I opened the door, and he was there on the ground and I don't know what to do-"

Tommy's mindless, shocked rambling is halted by Phil reaching over and lifting the man off of the blond's lap gently, asking him if he's okay, if he's safe.

"I'm gonna need you to calm down, ok? Breathe, and then you can tell me what happened." He's still inhaling and exhaling at an abnormal, ragged pace. "Okay, Tommy." Phil takes his hand in his and places it on his own chest.

"Match my breathing, can you do that? In," he demonstrates, "and out." Waiting patiently for the boy's panicked panting to slow and match his pace, he's silent, kneeling down by his side and looking at the blonde carefully, studying his face.

Tommy does what Phil has told him to and takes a deep breath, nodding. After a couple of minutes, he says, "I was looking around, I didn't want to wake you up. I came upstairs and I dunno, I just looked around and shit. I went into Techno's room- his room is cool as fuck, by the way- anyway, I went and looked at his room-"

Phil laughs under his breath, muttering, "Techno's gonna kill you, mate. Don't tell him- don't let him know you went into his room."

"And then I went into Will's room, and, uh, well." He gestures at Wilbur, who, as if on cue, groans, shuffles, and opens his eyes blearily.

"Mmmmmmmm...what-?" The brunette tries to prop himself up on his elbows, but he stumbles, still groggy from fainting. He compensates by pushing himself back to lean on the wall behind him. Blinking stupidly, he raises a hand to wipe his face but is stopped at the smear of dark red smudged on his hand and the tips of his fingers. He dismisses the sight, thinking that it must have dripped down from his arms, this is normal, the blood must be from his cuts.

His cuts.

Tommy and Phil are here.

That must mean- they know. They know. I shouldn't have done it when they were in the house. Did I lock the door? Why didn't I lock the door?

His eyes flash with panic as he looks up at the two figures staring at him while he processes the situation.

Did I pass out? I did, didn't I? Oh god, they're going to take me to the hospital. I don't want to go back there. I can't go back there.

"Wil!"

A hand rushes to his shoulder, holding him firmly and grounding him, the strong, steady palm gradually slowing his rapidly quickening breathing.

"Are you okay?"

A forced grin appears on his face as he tries his best to seem like he does feel okay. "Yeah. I'm fine, a little bit groggy but other than that, fine."

That's not what Phil meant, and every single person in the bathroom knows it. They see right through his facade and Tommy laughs at his attempt to soothe their worry, rebutting in a voice still slightly croaky from crying, "Will. Shut the fuck up, you're obviously not okay. You've just passed out, dead cold on the bathroom floor and losing more blood by the second, and you expect us to believe you when you say that you're fine? No."

Phil snorts, agreeing. "Yeah, Tom's right mate. You're a terrible liar. Wilbur, I think you need to go to the hospital."

"No-"

"No, you look terrible and-" His father's insistence falters at the sight of the brunette going even paler than he was before, skin blanching and lips moving with incomprehensible stuttering.

A hand slides into his curly hair, grabbing frantically and pulling so hard that strands fall to the tile floor slowly, dark brown contrasting starkly against the shiny white ceramic. The other hand moves to push Phil and Tommy away from him as he shakily says, "No, no, no. I can't- I don't- You can't make me- I'm not going back there. I can't- I can't-"

Looking at each other in shock, Tommy and Phil hurriedly nod at each other as they voice their assurance that they won't make him go.

Slowly, he visibly calms down and thanks them tiredly as Phil helps the other blond onto his feet in order to give Wilbur the privacy he needs to clean himself (and the floor) up. Telling him to come down when he's ready, his younger friend smiles at him encouragingly before stepping out of the door.

They take all the sharp objects they can find out of the bathroom before they leave.

1,026 words