𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲; byler

- 𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓇𝓎 1-

𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝒹𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂 𝒾𝓈 the same.

I'm alone in the woods behind my house. It's silent, completely 100% silent except for the slight whooshing of the trees leaves in the wind. 

The whole world around me is frozen in snow. Every tree top, every small rock, every branch, everything is covered with a thick layer of fluffy white snow. Not the black and gray yucky stuff that covers the streets of the town.

These are my woods, after all. And the snow is perfect and unblemished white. So naturally, I take a step.

the snow crunches under my feet the way only perfect snow does, the kind of perfectly satisfying crunches that almost never happens. The air is cold against my cheeks, but basically every other part of my body is hidden behind a soft woolen scarf and the biggest coat ever, so I'm perfectly warm and toasty and comfortable.

So I take another step, then another, and after each step I stop and appreciate the sound, the way my boots sink into the snow. Little leaves fall on me from the tree, and I giggle slightly. 

It takes eternity, but finally I reach the very edge of the woods. The little cliff I found, that I never told anyone about. Not even mom or Jonathan. It's short enough that It's not too hard to walk up, but high enough no one can see me and I can see everyone.

From there, the whole town is visible. Hawkins spread before me, and the cold winds blow against me again. I embrace them, sitting down on the edge. The snow is like a soft pillow against my jeans.

I take off the scarf covering my mouth, and I just take a breath.

A deep breath of the clear mountain air. I can feel it making it's way too my lungs, I feel them expanding to meet it. I hold the air as I long as I can, because even though I don't know why I just know something horrible is going to happen the moment I exhale.

But as much as I try to never let it go, as much as I want to never let it go, my head starts getting fuzzy and I can't hold it anymore, and I exhale deeply.

And I wake up.

 And when I do, it take a minute to realize where I am. I don't understand why my bed has railings. I don't understand why I only have one tiny window, and I don't understand why it's   barred and closed with blinds. I want to get up and open it. I want to feel the air like I had just a moment before.

And then I remember. I remember I'm not home anymore, I remember that the window doesn't open and even if it did, I couldn't take the breath I longed for. 

I remember that I'm sick. 

Most days, I can't stop the tears.

                                                                                  ✴ ⁕ ✴ ⁕ ✴

Okay. I don't want you to think I'm that kind of person. I'm not that philosophical or depressing usually, so let me start over. 

I'm Will Byers. I'm about to turn 17. I was raised in the small town of Hawkins, Indiana by my mom and my older brother, Jonathan. I love drawing, reading, and (as if it wasn't clear) snow.

I also have Cystic Fibrosis, which means I got very unlucky.

 I won't bore you with medical talk that I don't even fully understand, but basically You can only get CF if both your parents are carriers of the specific gene, and even then there's only a 25% chance you'll actually get  CF.

 My parents are fine. My brother is fine.                                                 

It's like I won a reverse lottery or something. 

We discovered my CF when I was about 7 after I had some difficulty breathing, and I've been in and out of hospitals my mom can't afford since. As I'm writing this I've been in a hospital for 4 months, my longest run to date. My lungs are working at a 46% capacity, so they don't actually work that well.

Before you ask, no there is no cure. 

And no, I don't know how long I have left. Maybe 5 years? maybe 3? maybe I'll die next week, maybe I'll get my lung transplant and live until I'm 50! I don't know. 

No one does.

 I'm sure that sounds depressing to you. And sure, sometimes it's hard to think about. But to be honest, it's kind of... something I live with. I've known it for a while, and I guess I've just come to accept that I won't live as long as most people. I don't know, it's hard to explain.

I just try to live my life. I make sure my port as clean at all times. I never miss any of the medications I have to take, never skip out on breathing therapies. I joke with the nurses that check on me every few hours. I read books, watch movies. I prove to my mom and everyone who puts so much work just to keep me alive that I'm also working. That I'm not a waste of time.

I show them I value my treatments. I keep charts of everything, the nurses never have to wake me up when they check my vitals. I always eat everything they serve me, even though eating 3,000 calories a day like I need is too much and the food is pretty gross.

 I also have friends in the hospital, well, friend. Max.

Max has CF too, she's also 16 and she's also gay. But aside from that, we have absolutely nothing in common. Max has 2 happily married rich parents, and she loves video games and skateboards everywhere the nurses let her, and some places they don't. 

Yes, you read that correctly. Max Mayfield has a black skateboard, and she skates around the halls of the ForrestView Hospital, her oxygen tank dragging behind her. 

She has a world map in her room where she highlighted every country she'll visit one day. She's a redhead fireball of pure energy, she's charismatic and energetic and funny.

We're basically opposites, which may be the reason we're best friends in the entire world. We have been ever since we met during my first hospital stay. 

We FaceTime everyday when I'm not in the hospital. She's the most bad-ass person ever. I'm definitely not.

Also, just in case you were wondering, this won't have detailed explanations of every single treatment I get and every medication and every therapy, because that would be a very long and dull book. 

And anyway, I'm writing this for me, and I already know what I go through every day. I already have 50 charts describing it in detail.

So, imaginary reader, did you make it past the depressing start? I hope you did. Because I didn't even get to start with the reason I started writing this in the first place, and it's 6:20 am which means the nurses will be here soon and and I don't think I'll get another chance to write today.

So if you want to read about Mike, you'll have to wait until next time.

Anyway, this has been me attempting something new. I think I actually like it.

Until next time,

𝒲𝒾𝓁𝓁

 [AUTHOR SAYS]

Hi guys! thank you for choosing to read my story!! If you haven't, check out my other stories "starstruck," "like we used to be," "addicted," and "48 hours" which are all Byler too:))

DISCLAIMER!!!! I don't have CF, I'm writing this as a romance based on the film "five feet apart" so even though I did my research aside from the film take everything medical I write here with about a million grains of salt, and I'll try to steer clear of the more medical side. 

So this is a little exposition, and the actual story will start next chapter!!🤍