48 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 ; byler

S. 1

MIKE WOKE UP before he was ready.

He was yearning to drift back to sleep. He was still so, so tired. His whole head was dizzy, his eyelids were heavy with sleep. For a moment, he didn't understand why he even woke up. It was Saturday for god's sake!

But with a sudden, violent shudder Mike understood why he couldn't sleep anymore. 

The desk he had used as an impromptu bed was so cold it was like one huge ice cube. The thin scarf did nothing to block the violent cold, a cold Mike felt in his bones. He glanced at the window, and sure enough the football field was covered with a thick layer of snow.

Great.

Mike knew there was no way he could sleep again. He rose up with a groan, stretching his aching back. Sleeping on a desk really wasn't ideal.

He looked to the other side of the room, but Will was gone. His heart sank a little. Maybe he was just in the bathroom or something?
Mike was so cold he couldn't concentrate, couldn't keep his train of thought. What could he do to warm himself up?

His hands were freezing, so he put them both deep in his pockets. To his surprise, his fingers closed about objects he had forgotten were there.

He lifted the paper and matches out, a terrible horrible (maybe genius) idea forming in his head. 

                                                                                         ✴ ⁕ ✴ ⁕ ✴

Turns out, Click actually had everything Mike needed.

Also, the people in Mike's school might be psychopaths- he had found a  Swiss army knife inside the drawer. 
A quick trip raid of the cafeteria, and everything was ready to go.

He used the knife to cut a few small holes in the bottom of the metal trashcan.  Then, he covered the bottom with pages from the newspaper, topping it all with the #2 pencils in a jar on the teacher's desk.
Finally, the crumpled notes and three burning matches- and Mike had his very own trashcan fire. 

Mike pulled up a chair and sat as close as he could, so the fire was almost too hot on his face, but just almost. He stuck his hands out, feeling the heat pressing against them. Slowly he started regaining feeling in his body, and he sighed contently.

"Mike!" it was Will's voice, in a form of a yell.  Suddenly the brunette was standing in the doorway, out of breath. His lips were blue, and he was shaking slightly.

"Are you crazy?!" Will called, staring at Mike and his fire in shock, " I smelt smoke and thought the school was burning down!"

Mike laughed. "It was either this or freezing to death," he said, "I'm in control. I've done this loads of times before. Come on!" 

Truth was, Mike had done this exactly once before on a camping trip with Nancy and his father... And even than, his father had basically done everything... But Will didn't need to know that.

For a moment Will stayed in the doorway, and Mike could basically see the wheels turning in his head. In the end the sharp cold overpowered him, and he pulled up a chair and sat next to Mike.

"Want some toast?" Mike asked, pulling out the slightly stale bread he found in the cafeteria. He pulled out a pencil and stabbed the bread on the end, then put his make-shift skewer into the fire. After a few seconds Mike pulled the now toasted bread out.

"Fresh from the oven!" Mike smiled. Will looked at him with an eyebrow raised, and then burst out laughing.
"Thanks," He said and took the slightly burned bread using his sweater, not to get burned.

Mike noticed that Will seemed to be much more upbeat and comfortable then he had yesterday. His lips weren't blue anymore thanks to the burning fire, and his cheeks were starting to glow with a red blush from the heat. He had such a sweet look to him, and Mike suddenly had the weird and irrational urge to hug Will.

"What?" Will asked, smiling a small smile. Mike must've been staring. 

"Nothing!" Mike claimed. He pulled out the bread he had toasted for himself, that was now burnt almost to a crisp. He didn't understand why Will made him so suddenly flabbergasted. What was wrong with him?

"Nothing a little butter can't solve," Mike added when he saw Will glaring at his blackened piece of toast. He proudly exhibited the packs of mini-butter and jam he had found in the cafeteria. He then proceeded to emptying the whole pack of butter onto his bread, and silently offered Will the jam.
"It's strawberry, your favorite!" Mike exclaimed, maybe a tad over-animated.

Will took it, a look of pleasant surprise on his face. 
"Yeah, it is. Thanks," he was emptying the pack on his own bread.

Mike felt himself blushing slightly. Why had he remembered that small detail? would Will think he was some kind of weird stalker? ughhhh. He didn't understand why he was spiraling so bad. It's just Will, he tried to remind his racing heart, relax.

So he did, a little, as they ate what might've been the best breakfast Mike had ever eaten. 
And when the food was eaten, the casual conversation died too, and silence fell on the two boys.

It wasn't awkward. It was a pleasant silence of being a little too full and tired and very warm on a snowy morning.

Mike stared into the flames, red and yellow and a little blue, and wondered if at the same moment Will was doing the exact same thing. Before he could turn his head to confirm or deny, the cozy warmth of the fire overpowered him and he fell into a deep sleep.

[AUTHOR SAYS]

Is this really boring? I really like it ughhh but I'm worried im taking too long to get the plot going... slow burns are hard to writeee