𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝; byler

- ¢нαρтєя 13 -

THE FIRST WEEK was like a fairy tale.

Every morning Mike came over before school to ride with them, like he did when he was dating El, only this time Will was the one to ride next to Mike. El was still mad, and always left before Mike came to ride with Max. She was so caught up in the breakup, Will didn't think she even knew Mike and him started dating. She spent every afternoon at Max's, never home anymore.

During lunch or recess Mike would often grab Will's hand tightly, squeezing it a few times before letting it go and leaving Will flustered and red. Sometimes before class, if he was sure no one was looking, Mike would lean down and give Will a kiss, soft and perfect that would make Will unable to concentrate on his next class. 

Everyday after school Mike and Will waited for the rest of their friends to leave, and then they'd hang out; going to the movies, lunch at a mall, or Will's favorite- going to Mike's house, sitting alone, just the two of them, and doing nothing but making out. Mike would walk Will home at the end of the day, where he either stayed for take-out dinner, or Will had a dinner with his mom and El (depending on the hour his mom arrived). 

The once dreaded hours of the afternoon, full of fear and stress and him drinking himself blind were now the time he looked forward to the most in the day; the time he had alone with Mike. Hours filled with pure joy. Every time he had another flashback Mike was there, talking him through it and then sitting with him, holding him until he relaxed,and then some more. Dating Mike was even more amazing then he ever could've anticipated or hoped. 

He didn't need the alcohol anymore. 

Every time he had an urge to drink he'd call Mike, and even when he didn't say anything just knowing he was on the other side made Will feel better. Will felt better, had more energy. He saw his skin, his hair looking better every day. He hadn't felt so good in what seemed like forever.

It was perfect. That is, the first week was.

                                                                                        ✴ ⁕ ✴ ⁕ ✴

 Things started to go downhill in the most unexpected way.

It was Sunday. Will had the spent all of Saturday with Mike: In the morning the whole party went to the arcade, and El and Max had come too (the first time they hung out with the rest of the group since El and Mike broke up). They had a great time, and afterwards Will went to Mike's house and they had the most magical afternoon, Mike had dragged the television into his room and they put on a new- release movie called "Beetlejuice", which neither of them ended up watching much of.
By the time Mike walked him home it was already 11:00, and Will had managed to have dinner alone with his mother (Eleven was spending the night at Max's), the first time that had happened in a while. After dinner- Will had gone straight to sleep. Perfect day.

When he woke up on Sunday, he knew something was very wrong. His head was spinning terribly, so bad he felt like his bed was shaking. He tried to get up, but felt like he was about to fall. He flopped back down on his pillow and closed his eyes again, but suddenly a wave of nausea had him staggering to the bathroom. He barley made it in time.

Will wasn't stupid. As he vomited everything in him, he realized he knew the cause of the sudden sickness. He wasn't sick at all, he was going through withdrawal. He thought the risk passed 24 hours after the last drink, he thought he was in the clear; after all, it had been a full week since the last time he had consumed ant alcohol whatsoever. Then, he remembered reading that sometimes symptoms only showed up days, weeks after. He lay his head down on the cool bathroom floor and tried to think through the painful beating of his heart and the terrible headache. He looked at his watch: 11:05. He had ten minutes before Mike came.

Fuck. Mike was coming!

If he saw Will like this, no doubt he'd tell Will's mom. She'd get him medicine, sign him up to therapy. She couldn't afford any of those things. Also, she'd never let Will out of her sight again. Like the time after his kidnapping, he'd have no independence at all. Everyone would look at him with that cautious, scared look they gave him after the possession. He couldn't let that happen.

think, Will. He yelled at himself inside his brain. He could tell Mike he's sick, that might work in the beginning. But these syndromes could last a whole WEEK. If he was sick for a week his mother would take him to the doctor's, and Will shuddered with the thought of what the doctors would find in his blood if they ran tests.  

Will half crawled to his room, scared shitless. If he cancelled on Mike so last minute he'd get worried, and the results would be the same as any other scenario. Not good. 

There was one thing Will could do, and he really didn't want to. He found himself opening that same spot, the plank he hadn't removed in so long. The hiding spot was empty, of course. What could he do? Will dug his hand inside, searching frantically for the bottles he knew weren't there. But at last, his hand wrapped around a smallish cold object. He grabbed it, his heart racing again, and took it out into the light.

A single bottle of whiskey Mike had missed in his raid. 

Before Will could decide what to do, he heard a knock on his door.

[AUTHOR SAYS]

Ok so welcome to part 2! like I said this part will be shorter, but don't worry I'm not going to just  repeat what happened last part even though it may seem like it right now. Hope you enjoy this! ♡