Work Text:
The halls are full of deafening silence.
All dorm doors are closed and razors are currently banned.
It's strange that solutions always appear after the problems are inconvenient.
(Beeping and cries and needles)
(A screech and crash and sirens)
(Cold sheets and tears and bandages)
(A cast and signatures and candy)
(Black suits and a casket and bagpipes)
(No longer saying Uncle Iain and gravestones and his dad having to force him in the car but crying and screaming because his heart and brain are too fast)
The hospital had been packed, a winter flu break. Only two of them had been allowed in at a time. They took turns on who went in with Charlie.
(A wine glass slipping)
(A wine glass stem snapping)
(Slivers in his foot)
(A shard in his mother's hand)
(Heart froze and hands numb while a nurse gets her stitches.)
Before being forced to endure his dorm room, he goes into the shower.
Using only a bar of soap and his hands and with the water turned up high, he scrubs. He scrubs and scrubs and scrubs. The water and the pressure and the friction making his skin raw.
He stands under the stream. There's still an antibacterial smell and his skin is still tight.
Skin on his forearm breaks.
He wipes the water off him and puts his clothes on - he only has to walk down the hall.
(His Dad tripping into the corner of the couch)
(A blue tinted body passing out on the floor)
(911, more sirens)
(Tubes and drips and trying not to hyperventilate)
The bottle is half empty - Gin, Charlie's favourite.
He peels off his wet clothes and throws them in them in his hamper.
Ignoring Charlie, he burrows hisself in his bed and wraps his duvet around himself.
(Phone calls and pulling out his black suit)
(Another family member down, his safe refuge not having been not safe.)
(Throwing a bottle of something against the wall and family members staring and his mother telling them 'it's just grief')
(His grandmother finishing her own bottle of red wine and everyone sympathetic and unconcerned due to her only being half of a whole now.)
There's a thump and swearing. He blinks his eyes open and Charlie's trying to move around in the dark.
He winces at the sound of him throwing up and then starts to sit up at the sound of the glass bottle being picked up.
Charlie drains it and drops it on the floor.
"You should take off your blazer."
"Fuck!" Charlie's eye snap over to him or at least the sound of his voice. The only light is coming through the curtains. "I almost had a heart attack."
"Don't worry, you'll drink yourself to death before then."
"Fuck you. My best friend-"
"Is in hospital, I know. Take off your blazer, you were sick."
"I swear to god, I'll murder you one day." His fingers struggle to unbutton it but Charlie takes it off and throws it on the other side of their room.
(Neil, bandages and drips, and a panic attack)
(Beeps, nurses and feeling sick)
(Neil, weary smile and alive, and walking back to Welton in a fog)
He drags himself out of bed. After a couple hours of unsuccessful sleep. There's the bottle on the ground. Empty. He rolls it under Charlie's bed.
He takes the blazer off of Charlie's desk. He straightens the stack of textbooks and puts Charlie's maths jotter on top. They have a test on Thursday.
Before going down to breakfast he knocks on the door to Knox and Meeks' room.
Knox with red cheeks and messy hair, in a wrinkled shirt answers.
"Cameron, what do you want?" His voice is raspy.
"You have Latin first. If Charlie doesn't show up, check on him after class."
He doesn't wait for Knox to reply and starts to walk faster than his probably should down the hall.