The First Step

Chapter 7.

I opened my eyes, and that was my first mistake.

Whatever room I was in, it had the curtains drawn, sunlight pouring in and making my head pound even harder than it already was. The second mistake, I found out moments after, was waking up at all. Waking up came with the sensation of my body being coated in sweat, the rancid smell of vomit, and the worst case of dry mouth I'd ever had in my entire life.

I rolled off my side, moving to my back to feel the plush seat of a couch. Turned out I was also shirtless and covered by a thin blanket, but I didn't have much time to find a new one before I heard voices. I don't know why exactly I decided to quickly shut my eyes and pretend to be asleep, but I'd already moved back into position by the time I could fully make them out, just in case they walked in.

"-Yeah, but I didn't see him going ahead and doing something like this," I could hear Blyke saying as three pairs of footsteps made their way further into what I could only assume was Gwen's shared apartment.

"I mean, I could see him getting a beer or two," Gwen added. "But wasted? That bitch slipped something in his drink. I would bet on it."

"I'm... not too sure actually."

I winced at the genuine concern I could pick up in Dustin's voice. There was a small beep from the other room, and from there the smell of coffee, but even with how much my brain was muddled, I could guess that he wasn't making it for himself. A deep breath filled my sore lungs. Why does he feel the need to care for me so much? Especially after what I did.

"What makes you say that?" Gwen asked as the silence continued to drag.

"It's just ever since he's moved in, he's been... panicked, I guess." There was another long pause before he continued. "And he's been angry, quiet, obsessed with keeping potions like they're going to save him-"

"Save him from what?" Blyke cut in.

"I don't know! And he won't talk to me about it either. When he didn't want to hang out last year, I just figured he needed time to process after— well, everything. But now it's been a year and he's..."

Then I heard a small choke, the next words broken and scratchy. "What if it gets worse? What if this is just the first step?"

"Then... I don't know, Dustin. I really don't know." A chair was scraped back, feet moving to finally take a seat. "But it's not your job to fix him. He's the only person that can do that."

"Right," Blyke agreed. "I think the best thing we can do for him right now is give him some peace and quiet and let him sleep. He hasn't thrown up since this morning, and we should probably give him a bit."

"Exactly. If you want, there's a small cafe only a block away. You can come with us and we can-"

"I'm staying."

"Dustin." Gwen sighed. "Coffee isn't a cure-all for being hungover. It's just something you wait out."

"I'm staying."

"... okay."

She sounded disappointed as the chair was moved again. After that was another shuffle, then the sound of a door opening, and closing.

My heart fell as I heard the uneven tapping of Dustin making his way over, sinking along with the stuffing of the couch as he sat on the edge. A weird sense of deja vu hit me as I realized that this would make that the second time in less than twenty four hours, unless I'd been out longer. I couldn't really tell. Gods my head hurt.

It was almost enough to make me pass out again as I lay there with my eyes closed, room spinning even when I wasn't going anywhere. Honestly, with how much my muscles ached, I didn't even want to. The only thing I wanted was to pass out when I heard a hiccup, then a sob.