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It smells like smoke from the living room.
Dakota- shouldn’t be awake right now, but he’s standing in the kitchen, hunched over the fridge and shuffling through it when the smell hits him.
He knows that smell. He really, really wishes he didn’t because it coats his lungs and the- memories come back.
He pushes them away. He- he can’t think about that now because someone else needs his help right now- William- Vyncent? Is something burning? He hopes something is just burning. He doesn’t want to think about what that smell could come from even though that’s not normal smoke.
The clock shows 3:47. It’s not a good time to be awake. He shuts the fridge, and walks over to the hallway with their rooms.
Vyncent’s door is shut. He knows the other sleeps heavily, so he tries the door handle. It doesn’t budge- it’s locked, as always. There’s relief there.
His own room has a light on, right next to his bed. Nothing there.
The- smell of smoke gets closer once he pushes William’s door open. It’s not just smoke. He knows what weed smells like and it’s-
It’s all over.
William isn’t there either.
There’s panic, because being alone isn’t a good idea especially if you’re- yeah- before he knows it he’s slipped on his shoes and left through the front door. The cold, night air bites at his face, but he doesn’t really feel it as his shoe’s crunch against leaves.
The smells back. It’s drifting from the- roof. This is a warehouse, so he grabs onto the ladders on the side and pulls himself up, rung by rung.
It shouldn’t surprise him when he sees William up here. It really, really shouldn't. He’s known something was happening- William is bad at hiding in his hoodie and just- acting through it.
The weed smell is so strong. It reminds him of Alaska, in that phase. She went through a lot in a month. Sometimes it was within weeks. Pills, drinks, tobacco and edibles. Whatever she could get her hands on. Whatever she had cash left for.
The point is, Dakota knows what this smells like.
There’s smoke drifting up from his open hand.
“…hey Dakota.”
“Hey Will.”
It would be a normal conversation in any other context.
“Uh- you wanna know something funny?” His voice is scratchy, and it’s…pained.
“…sure.” He moves over to sit next to him. His shoes scratch against the concrete and the other doesn’t move.
“I can’t really get high. That’s weird right? It just makes my head a little fuzzy but I feel fine.”
The other says with a tiny laugh, and he doesn’t really believe that, “Where’d you get it?”
“I’m- not gonna tell you.”
“Okay.” He doesn’t like how his voice sounds right now. He’s trying not to overreact because that could end really badly so-
He speaks in soft tones. Like how he did with her.
“Do you want to get inside? It’s cold up here.”
William doesn’t have anything other than his sweatpants and a tank top on. Dakota isn’t doing much better.
“Not really.”
“Can I stay up here with you then?”
William doesn’t respond. He gives a huff, and smoke trails out of his mouth, but he doesn’t move when Dakota just stares at him.
The cold doesn’t bother him. The smell does- it’s thick and acrid and it itches his mouth and just keeps reminding him.
He should stop Will. He should stop him. He should stop him. He needs to keep him safe . That’s his job- he shouldn’t let Will do this. He let one person he love do this and-
Will’s different, right? Time passes and the itching gets worse. The smoke doesn’t even blow into his face but the way he- he sits there. Listlessly. There’s a red puffiness in his eyes and- Dakota can’t take this anymore.
“Hey Will- we’re gonna go back downstairs now.”
He doesn’t think the other even hears him. That shouldn’t be normal- exaggerated reactions are common- what if he took something else? What if he just dies or gets worse or- right in front of him?
He holds onto the other’s hand. The one without the rolled up pot and he just takes it in his own, holding onto the other hand too. Lowers it. William’s hands are really clammy, maybe more than usual or maybe those are his own hands- because of course he’d be nervous.
William’s kind of limp as he pulls him up and wraps his arm around the others. Like he’s not there. He hasn’t been around in a while and now Dakota wishes he fucking did something about it because-
He has the same look in his eyes as Alaska did. Bloodshot. Empty. Not there. It’s a struggle getting him down the ladder safely because he stumbles over his own feet- the smoke sticks to his hair even after Dakota snuffs it out on the concrete side of the wall.
The grass crunches under their feet again when they reach the ground. William didn’t bother putting shoes on and he can see the mulch and dirt underneath now. The smoke smell- it’ll go away. In the wash or with time- it’s just one pair. He can fix this.
He basically pulls the other through the door, and through the living room, and back to his room. He flicks on the light, setting him down on his bed. He doesn’t look sick- just- out of it. He knows the difference. There’s no noise as Dakota pulls the bed covers off before laying his friend down. He runs cold, right? He grabs the blankets and pulls them back over. They’re plain white. He doesn’t know what he expected.
But there’s still no noise. Even as he shuts the lights again, sitting down and getting ready to ride this out, his friend just..stares up at the roof.
“Goodnight William. I’ll be here in the morning.”
He doesn’t get a response. He’s kind of used to that.
“I uh- have an aunt. She was kinda like you right now- I don’t know if you’re listening or if you’ll remember this in the morning- but I did this with her all the time. You’ll…be okay. Okay William?”
“....yeah.”
“ Okay.”