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

vingt-huit

"It's late." Techno walks slowly into the kitchen and Wilbur sighs, setting his glass of water on the laminate countertop.

"Couldn't sleep."

"Neither."

This is familiar. They'd said and done almost the exact same things the last time a member of their family was hospitalised. Kristin had left a voicemail in Phil's inbox and he had fallen back into that familiar pit of depression. He had been doing so much better. But the brief hiatus he had taken from streaming had opened the door to seclusion, the one thing Phil knew was the worst thing for him.

---

Phil wakes up, disoriented and groggy. He opens his eyes and sees, through albeit bleary vision, a white ceiling. The bright midday sun shines in through the thin venetian blinds, lighting up the room and paining his eyes.

"Wh-" He tries to sit up but- Ow. Fucking ow.

"Phil!"

He hears a smooth English accent call for him and, after a beat, another male voice, strongly American and monotonous, says his name as well.

"What happened?" He tries to speak but it comes out in a croak and his throat feels awful.

"You've been asleep for a day. You fainted- don't you remember?"

As Wilbur speaks, concern is in the faces gazing at him.

"Phil? D'you remember the- Techno found you in your room, you must've passed out or something."

Shit. Why don't I remember it? That's not something you forget easily.

"You don't remember?"

Are they messing with me? No. They wouldn't.

"No- no? I don't. What happened?"

Looking between each other, they're hesitant to tell him, that much is obvious.

"Well...we don't really know. I found you in your room, you were passed out cold on the floor. I had to call an ambulance."

"The doctor said it's malnutrition? Dad- have you been eating properly?"

A tidal wave of cloudy memories wash over him as he realises he hasn't eaten more than half a small bag of stale potato chips in a week. Fuck. Oops.

"Mmmfff...I'm fine. I don't understand why you were so concerned."

Wilbur and Techno look at each other incredulously. "You literally passed out on the fucking floor - Dad- you do know it's normal for people to worry about each other?"

"Especially when they're family."

"Okay, maybe I've been forgetting to eat. I think." Wilbur throws his arms up in disbelief and Techno scoffs. "Okay, I'm not doing it on purpose, I just don't really have time... in my day."

"We all know that's not true."

---

"D'you wanna go on a walk?"

Techno glances at his brother. "Now? It's like 2am."

"Yeah, why not? We'll go to the railway, it's been a while."

The American nods in assent and they shuffle their shoes on. The night is clear and silent as they make their way to the abandoned railway, just a short walk from their house.

"Tommy's going to be fine, you know that, right?" Techno says.

"How do you know? How do you know he's gonna be fine and doesn't have a cracked rib that's punctured his lung or something? What if he needs surgery and he doesn't- What if he-"

"Don't even start with that, Wilbur. He's going to be fine. We found him, and he's safe now."

There's silence as the two walk towards their destination.

"It's barely changed..." The rusty tracks are covered in moss and weeds, unused and long abandoned.

"Look! The chairs are still here, I really thought they would be gone or something," Wilbur smiles as he walks around, "been a while, eh?"

"I mean - nearly, what? 6 months? Seven?"

"Yeah, yeah probably. I missed it here."

The branches of an old, knotted weeping willow support a swing, wooden plank worn smooth by weather, that the two had installed almost two years ago. "We should take Tommy here, he'd love it."

"He would!"

Whilst he's gazing up at the calm, clear sky, in the corner of his eye, Techno sees his brother open his mouth, then close it.

"What is it?" he asks.

"Nothing, it's nothing."

"It seems to have been something. What's on your mind?"

"I'm just so tired, y'know?" Wilbur says quietly, "I disassociate so easily now, I barely know what's going on... it feels like I'm drowning."

"And it feels like cutting is my only coping mechanism but it's not even fucking working, is it! 'Cause I still feel like shit!" before he knows it, Wilbur's yelling. "I feel like shit and I don't fucking know anything anymore!"

His yells wracked with sobs, he drops to his knees. "I don't fucking know. I don't know."

"Oh, Wilbur. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry you feel like this," Techno kneels down and rubs his brother's back softly, "really."

"Can I ask - has it got anything to do with Tommy being in the hospital? I noticed you shaking a bit while we were there."

"I guess, yeah. I don't... do well with hospitals. Don't like them, never- well, I don't think anyone particularly likes hospitals, but I just... can't. I know it's not rational, I know that. But they just- look. You know Your City Gave Me Asthma, right," Techno nods silently and Wilbur continues, "so London... really did give me Asthma, or respiratory problems at least. I was going to the emergency room, maybe once or twice a month? I'll spare you the details, but I'll just... - the NHS is definitely not the most, um. It's not the best at healthcare, I would say. I guess it's PTSD? I don't like hospitals. I don't..."

"Yeah."

"Some of the shit they did... I'm convinced it wasn't legal, honestly. I just... I know it's not going to happen again, but-"

"Can't stop the anxiety."

"Mhm. I don't even really remember it fully clearly, I think my brain has forgotten it to protect me, coping mechanisms and all that - it's foggy, yknow?"

"Yeah. That happens."

Wilbur yawns. "I'm... oh, what's the time, I've just gotten really tired all of a sudden."

Pulling out his phone, the other says, "it is... almost 4:30."

Wilbur hums. "Do you know when the sun rises? It looks like it's getting light now."

1,033 words