If I Stay✔️

92

L E O

The hospital was more crowded than normal.

I held back a snort at my own thoughts, it was overly amusing to me; that I noticed that first out of all things.

This place had become almost as familiar to me as home, considering the amount of time I'd been cooped up here over the past few months. Unlike the waiting rooms and cafeteria, most of the corridors were quiet and dull with only the odd echo of footsteps throughout the day when it wasn't round time for the interns.

Today was different, today was busy.

I glanced at the kids I knew from the teen home, nodding in acknowledgement as we made our way down the dimly lit corridor, following Charlie towards the room he would be holding our first group therapy session in. This was our place now, for the time being.

"Hey," Lincoln, an alcoholic kid I knew from group, murmured, falling into step with me. He was dressed in light grey sweatpants and a matching sweatshirt with a hospital tag around his wrist. "You got to go home, right?"

After the fire, most kids; like Oliver, Arlo and me, got released early and had been allowed to go home on the basis that they returned for weekly group and one to one therapy sessions.

Felix, Rowan, Presley and apparently Lincoln weren't so lucky.

"Hey, yeah." I nodded, eyeing his attire once more. "Guessing you didn't?"

"Great observation, Cluedo," Lincoln snorted, shoving my shoulder lightly. "What gave it away? The lack of shoe laces? Or the fact I'm still sober?"

I glanced at the hospital sliders on his feet. "Definitely the lack of shoe laces."

Amused, he rolled his eyes before a more thoughtful expression came. "So, how is it? Being home, I mean."

"It's going good." I told him honestly. Over the past two weeks I'd been home, each day felt a little more comfortable than the last. "Yeah, it's good."

Lincoln scanned my face and hummed. He didn't say anything else, not that I expected him to.

"So," I said after a short silence, stuffing my hands into my pockets as I glanced around for any of my friends. When I couldn't see them, my eyes fell back to Lincoln. "You don't think you'll be sober if you leave here?"

"No," he shook his head, amused. "I know I won't be sober when I leave here."

"What's the difference?" I pried. Lincoln was never one for over sharing, even in therapy he kept his words blunt and to the point. "To here and home," I clarified. "What makes it easier to be sober here than there?"

"It's easier to be sober when you're surrounded by people and not the ghost of who they were." Lincoln didn't look at me, eyes set on the floor as his brows pinched together in thought.

I could see Oliver's dark hair from the corner of my eye, but I didn't turn away from Lincoln. "You know, you can surround yourself with other people, Link. Just because you go home, it doesn't mean that's the only place you have to call home."

"All of my homes are here," he said, his voice softer than I'd ever heard. "I've been in the teen home since I was fifteen. I made something feel like home with everyone here in two years, and I never got this sense of belonging in the fifteen I'd been at home."