Archive of Our Own

William’s never been an easy sleeper.

Even as a baby, he was one of those newborns that never stopped crying and barely slept. His parents liked to tell him stories about him being a nightmare child, one who’d only sleep for an hour at a time before he woke up with something new to cry about. How they always hoped he’d finally stay down this time, and he never would.

As he got older, whatever mysterious reason he was always crying as a baby turned into a fear of the dark and the unknown. Being too scared to sleep alone because there was a monster under his bed, or in his closet. Scared of the monsters he’d read about in his countless books on the supernatural, meant for kids much older than he was. Scared of the things that lingered beyond the veil and watched him.

Then, it was real monsters. Monsters that came out from the Whispering Woods, and attacked the town.

It was missing people, suspicious behavior, injuries, creatures nobody else could see. It was mysteries and the supernatural. By the time he was fourteen, he knew what was really out there. He’d seen it first hand, had experienced more near-death experiences than any fully grown adult ever should.

All of that paired gracelessly with his naturally paranoid nature, and made for someone who tended not to sleep well. It wasn’t just that he rarely stayed in dreamland for longer than a couple hours at most, he struggled to get to sleep, too.

The nights he got a solid eight hours with no interruptions were few and far between. Sometimes it wasn’t for any reason at all, sometimes it was awful nightmares, and sometimes it was something genuinely out to get him.

He’d come to terms with all that. He got as much sleep as he could. He’d been given a prescription for 3mg melatonin when he was in middle school that he forced himself to choke down when he knew he’d gone too many days with too little sleep, despite the vivid nightmares it always gave him.

Then, the Unwitness Protection Program was formed.

Slowly, at first. One person at a time, other kids in Deadwood who could see what he could. Who understood what he’d gone through, and wanted to find out what was wrong with their town just as much as he did. Suddenly he had friends again, ones who regularly came for sleepovers, who hung out with him whenever they could just because they wanted to, because they enjoyed each other's company.

Suddenly it wasn’t just his life on the line if his exhaustion and lack of sleep resulted in sloppy movements or reckless ideas. If he let whatever they were hunting down get the upper hand, then he didn’t just leave with a new scar and fresh nightmare fuel, but rather everyone did.

(William hadn’t slept in four days, and before that the last time he could remember actually dozing off, it’d been restless and short. It wasn’t for lack of trying, because he did. He wanted to get some fucking rest. But every time he laid down and closed his eyes, it just didn’t happen. Either his mind ran wild with worries, or he was too restless, or the fear of nightmares was just too strong to even try.

He hadn’t even considered melatonin. The kind of sleep it gave him would be full of vivid nightmares and waking up in hot sweats. Besides, they were in the middle of investigating a mystery, having more time to research would only be a good thing.

It meant he was tired. Not the kind of tired where you’re maybe a bit sleepy and could go for a nap, the kind of tired where all your senses felt blurry and nothing seemed to register as quickly as it should. The kind of tired where your ears were filled with cotton, and your limbs were loaded with weights.

The thing– something they still hadn’t identified, and really hadn’t meant to get in combat with before they were ready to– swung for Norah. William was right there. If he were any more awake, he would’ve been in the perfect position to slam into that thing's side and knock it off course.

Instead, he stared, horror slowly mounting in his chest, and watched as it shredded through the front of Norah’s sweater. Hot, red blood bloomed quickly, soaking the remaining cream colored fabric in gore. She screamed, falling back into the muddy forest floor.

Isaac leapt onto the creature's back, and yelled for them to get her out of there. William stumbled to attention, but by the time he got to her side Lui was already helping her to her feet and booking it.

They got out alive, but Norah spent the night in the hospital.)

He tried harder to sleep enough after that first incident. He refused to let himself get up and sit on the family computer until the sun rose, or watch whatever bullshit showed up on cable all night. Despite the dreams that hung around his head like thick, putrid smog, he got as many hours as he could every night. Especially during active mysteries.

All that was to say that William struggled to sleep, and despite this, he did his best to do it anyways.

Tonight, it wasn’t fear. It wasn’t intentional avoidance. It wasn’t nightmares, or his friends keeping him up, or even his own winding thoughts.

He was just in so much pain.

William was used to pain. He fought fucking monsters, for crying out loud. He regularly ran through the woods, and he did quadrobics with Norah while poorly prepared and on dangerous terrain. He was clumsy, and uncoordinated, always bumping into things and finding himself with bruises and cuts he didn’t even remember getting.

He had plenty of scars to tell stories of how often he’d been hurt, how intimate he’d gotten with the searing pain of being torn open or burned. And none of that even got into the real source of his pain. He’d been diagnosed with something he didn’t even remember the name of these days, way back when he was still a kid.

It wasn’t like the name of the disorder was important. He wasn’t even confident it was accurate anymore. He knew that what they diagnosed him with was relating to his knees specifically, something about his kneecaps not being supported enough in their sockets and sliding around. But he’d gotten older, and he’d done more stupid shit, and now it seemed like all his joints ached. More often than not, he was stiff and in some measure of pain, and he was used to that.

Often, he’d move odd, or too quick, and it’d pinch. He had a near obnoxious collection of braces for when his joints felt too weak or the ache got too strong. Most importantly, he had his patella stabilizers that he always wore when he left the house. He kept them tucked beneath baggy jeans, a pair of compression socks beneath them. He used all his supportive gear as much as he could.

William did everything right. And yet, here he was. Trying desperately not to cry. Trying to force himself to take deep breaths in and out. Trying to find some position that would relieve any of the pain.

It would’ve been one thing if he was in his own bed. If his friends weren’t wrapped up in their own sleeping bags, pressed together. He would stay there until either he worked up the courage to move despite it all, or the pain waned enough that he could move safely. Worst case scenario, he’d get his parents attention.

But that wasn’t the case.

Norah was right beside him, her soft purple sleeping bag that she recently had to replace due to a growth spurt overlapping with his black one. The two of them had stayed up later than Lui and Isaac, talking about their plans for the weekend.

Isaac and Lui were a little further away, deeper into the basement, cozied up, entirely unaware. Isaac’s snores were loud, making it near impossible to hear Norah’s much softer ones, or the even quieter sound of Lui breathing, but the fact they were all asleep was clear as day.

Most of William was beyond relieved; relieved that they wouldn’t see this, that he wouldn’t be putting this on them. That he wasn’t a burden on his friends, who needed this sleep. Who didn’t sleep enough because he spent too many nights pushing them to look at what lurked in the dark. The rest of him wanted nothing more than for them to wake up and offer to help.

The youngest teen shifted, teeth grinding, trying to alleviate some of the pain. He had medications and balms for this, but he couldn’t get them if he couldn’t even sit up, let alone climb out of his sleeping bag and hike his way upstairs. He’d tried already, a few minutes after waking up, and had only made things worse with the way his kneecaps started grinding, and a new kind of throb began beneath them.

He didn’t even have a way to get his parents. If he were in his room, he could call for them, they were just down the hall. But down in the basement, nothing short of screaming at the top of his lungs would be loud enough to wake them. He just wanted his mom, her hands were always soothingly warm and gentle. She knew just what to say to make him feel better.

Nobody was awake. He wasn’t going to just stay here for hours and hope it worked itself out. He had school in the morning, plans with his friends. He just wanted to sleep. He needed to get up. He could go upstairs, and deal with it being a bit worse so he could make it better. It was just walking, he could do it. He had to.

Despite the way his jaw already hurt from clenching it in his sleep. Despite the way his legs were already throbbing so much that the ache spread through his entire body, he didn’t wake anybody up. He moved with slow, careful movements.

Fuck.

It hurt.

His sacrum felt like it was threatening to pop out of its socket as he slowly pushed himself upright, and his kneecaps were grinding in response to the slow bending of his legs. It was acid, it was searing pain. The kind of pain that had him holding his breath and fighting back tears. His cheek stung and the hot taste of iron flooded his mouth.

Stand up.

Stand. Up.

He braced himself on the couch behind him, hand sinking into the old cushions, and pushed, forcing his legs to bear his weight. Stand up. It was simple.

It was easy.

He was up on his own for barely a few seconds before white hot pain sung through his veins. A noise punched itself from his throat; this awful, pathetic little cry of pain as his knees gave out and he hit the floor.

He couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes. They were clenched shut tight enough that he swore they might pop straight from his head, but it was giving some sort of comfort. He only heard the sound of movement, of sleeping bags rustling with sudden action.

He hated this.

Hated that he was waking them up. He didn’t even know who heard him, if it was all of them or just one.

He couldn’t even fucking stand.

How pathetic was that?

“Will?”

Norah’s voice was quiet and soft, crackling with the dredges of sleep. He could hear the worry, thick in her voice. What did he look like to her? He was half sprawled out in front of the couch, one arm laid out on it and his head hung low. He couldn’t bring himself to move, despite the way his legs were twisted awkwardly.

He grunted– and that wasn’t what he meant to do. He’d opened his mouth to speak, to say something like I’m fine! Don’t worry about me!, but the position of his legs finally struck a nerve and forced him to slam his teeth together. His shaking hand gripped the carpet fibres tight enough to hurt, as if the pressure would make him feel better.

“‘re you alright?” She continued, and that awful worry in her voice was stronger, now. “What’s wrong?”

He forced his jaw to loosen. The loss of that ache in his jaw, the pressure on his teeth, felt like it doubled the pain in his legs. “Don’ worry,” he managed, voice as shaky as his hands. “‘M fine, Norah.”

He could practically hear the way Norah’s frown deepened. Her sleeping bag rustled with movement. “You don’t look fine…”

“Norah…” He ran his hand down his face until it was hanging over his mouth, and lifted his head just enough to see her concerned expression. Another sharp shock bit through his knee, causing a painful twitch that had him screwing his eyes shut in pain and dropping his head. “Just– just– just go back to sleep, okay?”

“William…” He couldn’t look at her. Slowly, carefully, he moved his legs so they weren’t in such an awful position. “Tell me what’s wrong. Can I– can I help? At all?”

He was grinding his teeth again.

Damnit.

A short growl broke from his throat, and quickly tapered off into an animalistic whine, “My, uh…” he let go of the carpet, feeling loose shreds of the fabric clinging to his fingers, “I can’t get up.”

“...What?”

“It’s– I–” he swallowed thickly. “My joints. Sometimes I get– like, uhm… these flares, and it really fuckin’ hurts, and I can’t, uh…” He clenched his eyes shut, tight enough to see white spots on his lids. “I can’t really move.”

“You can’t move? Will, that’s–”

“It’s nothing new,” he interrupted, before she could start rambling about all her fears and panic. Before she could spiral. “It’s, uh, it’s like a condition, okay? I’ll be fine!” He forced himself to look up at her, and plaster on a strained smile. “I, uh, didn’t mean to make it sound so serious. It’s really not, okay?”

Her face set into problem-solver mode, where her lips pursed and she straightened out to look down on the subject of her attention. He hated it when he was the one on the other end of that look. “How can I help?”

His legs twitched again. Shards of pain tore through his muscles like broken glass. His mouth tasted like blood.

“...Yeah. Yeah, okay.” His voice came out as nothing more than a crackling whisper. “Can you… I wanna go to my bed, the, uh… I don’t think the floor’s doing me any favors, y’know?” William forced out a chuckle that fell flat in the silence of the basement.

There was a beat where he almost asked her to get his mom. Like she could make everything better just by being there. But if Norah was already awake, he wasn’t going to wake anybody else for this. He was being enough of a problem as it stood. “Yes, yeah, yes, of course.” She stumbled to her feet, while he began preparing to stand again. “How should I…?”

“I don’t know,” he said, swallowing back tears that constricted his throat and threatened to make him lose his grip on anything resembling a steady breathing pattern. “I– I can’t– I can’t support myself, an’ moving anything below my hips fucking hurts. Even– even if you could pick me up, it’d– I’d–” he choked down another gulp of air, “And– and It’s gonna fucking suck no matter what.”

Norah crouched down beside him, arms hovering, like she didn’t know what to do with them. She opened her mouth, then closed it, over and over again. He tossed his head back to stare up at the ceiling. There were cracks running through it. Tiny holes from screws that had been pulled or ripped out. Norah always pointed out how there could be spiders hiding in them just to see Lui pull a face.

“...Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“I’m… I’m in a lot of pain,” he choked out, because it was the only excuse he could give for rambling off like that and worrying her more.

“...I know.” She shifted so she leaned against the couch beside him, pressing their shoulders together in support, “Maybe we should wake Isaac? He could carry you…” His throat seemed to catch on itself again. A low, keening growl rumbled in his chest.

“Don’t wanna bother him… He hasn’t been getting much sleep at home.” Isaac had just been telling them earlier that night how much he was struggling with getting more than a couple hours in his own room. That he kept having these awful nightmares that woke his family up.

If Isaac was sleeping peacefully through the night at William’s, then waking him up for this was like… mega-ultra rude, instead of just normal rude. “I can’t carry you, though,” Norah reminded, “And you can’t get up, can you?”

Tears finally slipped past his defenses. He covered his face, sniffling. “I know.”

The silence hung between them willingly. Norah gently took his hand in hers, the dull tips of her nails running across his skin in soothing patterns. The position he was in was still sending pain through his hips, singing up his spine and into his ribs, but at this point he was too scared to move and risk making it worse.

Eventually, Norah shifted away from him, and slowly crossed the room to where Isaac and Lui were sleeping soundly. William bit back his protests. He really didn’t want everyone to get woken up because of this stupid condition. It was his fault, he pushed himself too hard the day before, or maybe he fell asleep in an awkward position, and now they all had to be roused in the middle of the night to deal with it.

He’s so selfish.

“Isaac,” Norah whispered. “Isaac, wake up.”

Isaac’s snore cut off in a way that sounded painful. He flailed, arms fighting to get out from where they’re trapped within his zipped sleeping bag. William couldn’t see him past Norah, but he could hear Lui make some sort of noise.

“Norah?”

“William, uhm… Will needs some help,” she answered, delicately. He could tell she was trying to keep her voice low so he wouldn’t hear, but it was impossible to go unheard in the otherwise silent basement.

Lui’s voice was more cracks than words, “What’s going on? Is he alright?” he croaked, clearing his throat.

“I’m fine,” he said, voice louder to remind them that he was right here and could hear them. Maybe it came out snappier than he wanted, but his voice broke halfway through and took the edge off. “I just… need, uh.”

They waited, three pairs of worried eyes looking back at him with creased brows and fidgeting hands. Norah finally finished his sentence when he averted his eyes to hide the tears shining in them, “He needs someone to, uh, carry him to his room. He can’t… walk.” There was a rush of noise, Lui and Isaac talking over each other and fumbling to get out of their sleeping bags. It was over as soon as it came when Norah frantically shushed them.

Isaac got up first, and the other two followed, crowding around him. Hot, embarrassed blush bloomed on his cheeks. “I– It’s– I mean, it’s not– like, you guys don’t have to–” he stuttered, words fighting to get out of his mouth. He growled, frustrated. “I… I’m sorry. For waking you guys. You, uh, you shouldn’t have to deal with this.”

“Don’t say that, man.”

Lui nodded. “We want you to be okay, okay? Like… if you’re hurting, we want to help if we can. Right?”

“Right.”

“Yeah, Will.” Norah’s smile was soft and kind. It would’ve been reassuring if he couldn’t still see the pitying worry behind her eyes. “We care about you.”

He looked away. The blush on his cheeks went from a hot flush to an overwhelming tomato red. “Right!” He cleared his throat, fighting to get rid of the embarrassingly high pitched squeak his voice took on. “Uhm… I just wanted to get to my bed. All my, uh, all my stuff for… this is up there.”

“What is… this?” Lui asked, hesitantly. His clasped hands were rubbing over each other in a constant, repetitive nervous motion. “You don’t have to– to, y’know, tell us if you don’t want to, or anything. I was just… curious?”

He opened his mouth, with every intention of giving them a proper explanation. Subconsciously, he fixed his posture, trying to give himself some measure of confidence. He could feel for just a beat the way he put pressure on his sacrum and hips before another sharp stab of pain dug into the bones. A pained noise punched itself out of his throat, eyes clenching shut so tight it felt like his eyes might pop.

His jaw shut with a clack, teeth grinding. Deep, shaking breaths were all he could do as he waited for it to pass, not daring to move. He was all too aware of his friends all around him, watching this, seeing him so pathetic. “Shit,” he breathed, when it finally began to pass, “It’s– I– my hips, ‘n my knees,” he tried to explain. It felt like all the air in his lungs had disappeared, and he couldn’t get them to reinflate. Like he’d just run up a flight of stairs, “Fuckin’ hurts.”

“Yeah, man, that looked like– that looked bad,” Isaac worried. His hands were hovering, like he wanted to reach out to help but didn’t know how, “I’ll, uh… yeah, I can carry you upstairs. How d’you wanna do this?”

Tears clung to his lashes. He didn’t want to do this, it was going to hurt so much. He just wanted this all to stop. “I dunno. It’s– dude, it’s gonna fucking suck no matter what.”

“Right.”

“You said you had stuff in your room?” Lui asked, while Isaac hefted himself up onto his feet and aimed to flick the lights on. “Norah and I can go set things up, up there? D’you want us to bring our sleeping bags to your room?”

“If you want?” he winced, shifting as another, weaker wave of pain rushed through him. Deep breaths. “In the, uh.” He cleared his throat, swallowing thickly. “In the bathroom, the middle shelf on the left of the medicine cabinet. I’ve got meds in there, ‘n, like, a balm?”

He watched Lui repeat the information in his head. “Medicine cabinet, middle left shelf?”

“Yeah. Yeah, and under my bed is a bin of braces n’ compression socks n’ stuff. The socks would be… nice.”

“I’ll get the sleeping bags, you get the meds?” Norah suggested to Lui, who nodded.

“Sounds good to me.”

Isaac settled back down beside him, and with careful, slow movements, began to adjust him so he could be carried. When he tucked his arm beneath William’s knees, he winced, “Jeez, man,” he muttered. William could only imagine he was feeling the heat radiating off the inflamed joints. The change of position sent new sparks of pain down his legs, and a tingling sensation began in his feet. “You ready?”

He took a deep breath in.

This was going to suck.

This was really going to suck.

Why’d it have to be like this? Why couldn’t he just be fucking normal? Or even just only have one problem– his brain is already fucked up. No, he couldn’t just be weird, and wrong, and different, he had to be physically broken, too. He had to have horrible bouts of pain that made it impossible to walk. He had to tuck a foldable cane into his backpack in case of emergencies at school. He had to pretend he wasn’t walking around smelling sickly strongly of menthol and camphor half the time.

He swallowed back all his whining, and nodded. “Now or never, right?” he asked, aiming for levity. He’s pretty sure he missed the mark by a mile.

Isaac lifted him up.

(Norah’s hands froze at the sound that punched itself out of William’s chest. She was halfway through rolling up Lui’s sleeping bag when the youngest UPP member gave the okay for Isaac to lift him up.

The sound of pain was brutal. A sharp cry that ripped from his throat, the kind of noise that made itself known before you could even think to stop it. It was followed quickly by sobs that made her heart twist. The kind of crying that choked you, that got caught in your throat and made it impossible to breathe or swallow.

Her hands were shaking when she forced herself to act like nothing was happening. Like William wasn’t desperately trying not to make any noise and failing. Like she couldn’t hear his stifled cries and gasps when he finally managed to stop the reflexive sobs.)

William wanted his mom.

He just wanted this all to stop.

“It’s alright, it’s okay, man.” Isaac’s voice sounded like it was underwater, fading in around the awful rushing of blood in William’s ears. “Just breathe. We’re almost there, alright?”

Going upstairs was a blur. He remembered the pain as his hips and knees were jostled despite Isaac’s careful movements, and that was about it until he was being laid out on his bed. His legs were manhandled until they were resting on the pillow that belonged beneath them. He could taste metal in his mouth, copper stinging his tongue from where he’d bit through his cheek.

The awful sensation of his bones grinding together and his muscles screaming in protest slowly began to fade back into the seemingly never-ending ache that’d been hanging around all night. At least his bed was more comfortable than the basement floor, the mattress supporting his hips and the right pillow supporting his legs.

“Will?”

Finally, William opened his eyes. Isaac was hovering at his bedside, all his focus on his bedbound friend. Lui was at the foot of the bed, unpairing a set of black compression socks. Will tried to look around them, but couldn’t see Norah.

“Hi,” he croaked. His throat was dry. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” Lui narrowed his eyes at the youngest, who winced. “It’s not your fault, okay?”

“...Yeah, okay. Uhm, where’s–?”

“Norah’s getting you food so you can take your medication,” Lui filled in. “The, uh, the bottle says you shouldn’t take it without food.”

“Right. That’s– yeah, that’s good.” He’d been more than willing to deal with the stomach cramps taking them without food would’ve caused if it meant he wasn’t asking yet another thing of his friends, but it seemed they were one step ahead of him. “Did you get the– the tiger balm?”

Lui nodded, but Isaac was the one who answered. “Yeah, here.” He plucked the small glass container off the nightstand that’d been out of William’s field of view. Right beside it sat the bottle of prescription medication William was only allowed to take in situations like this. “You want me to put it on?”

He wanted to put it on himself, Isaac should be sleeping. William could see the exhaustion in his face, even behind the worry that was keeping him awake and the dim lighting. He’d finally been sleeping peacefully. “I can get it,” he said, already shifting to sit up despite the way his bones protested.

Isaac’s hands were quick, as he rushed forward to push William back down, “Dude, no,” he protested, “You’re not– you–” He huffed, frustrated. One of his hands went up to run through his hair. “Don’t get up. I got it, man.”

Tears threatened to well up again, so he didn’t respond.

Isaac pulled away slowly, grabbing the abandoned tin of tiger balm and twisting the metal lid off. The potent smell of menthol and camphor wafted into the room. William had long since gotten used to it, but Isaac’s face scrunched up. William wondered if he was identifying the smell that followed his friend around more often than not, or if he didn’t recognize it.

“Hey, wait!” Lui interrupted, grabbing Isaac by the wrist and stopping him from sticking his fingers straight in the jar. William had already opened his mouth to say something, but he wasn’t given the chance. “You gotta put gloves on. Or, like, use a tissue. You should avoid getting this on your hands, and you’re gonna get germs in it.”

“Yeah,” William croaked in agreement. “It’ll, like, stay on your hands forever. And, uh, it smells really strong. You don’t want that.”

Isaac shrugged, “I don’t mind. It doesn’t smell that bad.” He took an exaggerated sniff, probably to prove his point, and then reared back when the sharp smell of menthol singed his nose. “...Yeah, okay. Maybe not.”

“I’ll get gloves. Will?”

“In the bathroom, under the sink. On the right, I think? My mom, uhm, keeps moving things down there, so they might be somewhere else.”

“Under the sink, right side. I’ll be right back. Isaac…”

“I won’t, dude. Jeez.”

Lui darted off. Isaac’s eyes lingered on Will. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

He shrugged, this tiny thing that wouldn’t aggravate his back. “I dunno. Didn’t wanna… y’know– you guys shouldn’t have to deal with this. I– I can handle it.”

Isaac made a face. William couldn’t even begin to understand what it meant. “...What would you’ve done if none of us woke up? Would you’ve just… laid there? All night?”

The dark haired teen directed his attention toward the ceiling. The glow in the dark stars his dad had put up when he was three years old were still there, long since burnt out. They caught the light off his lampshade and twinkled down at him. “Probably.” he agreed, “Eventually, I would’ve been able to get up and help myself… worst case scenario I would’ve gotten my mom.”

Isaac didn’t look particularly happy with this answer. “Well… I don’t know about the other two, but you can always ask me for help, okay?” Isaac took his hand, squeezing it reassuringly. When he hesitated to respond, Isaac continued, “Okay?”

“Yeah.” His throat felt dry again. “Yeah, okay. Thanks, man.”

“I’m back!” Lui announced, shutting the door behind himself. “With gloves. They were on the left.”

“Sorry.”

Lui waved him off, handing the gloves to Isaac, “Here. I didn’t know if you’d need both? But, uh, better safe than sorry, right?”

Isaac delicately massaging balm onto his knees was awkward, and insanely embarrassing. Usually, if he couldn’t do it himself, his parents were the ones doing it. But now it was his friend who he’d only known for a few months, who didn’t sign up for this in the slightest. Someone he’d already dragged through hell chasing monsters and mysteries.

Isaac, thankfully, seemed wholly unbothered. He struck up a conversation with Lui about nothing to fill the silence, and ensured that the balm was applied evenly and thoroughly. By the time he was done, William could already feel the cooling effect start to take the edge off the inflammation’s heat.

“You said your hips were bothering you too, right?” Isaac asked.

William shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. It’s uh, it’s mostly my knees.”

“You sure? I can–”

“No, I– No, it’s fine.” he gestured, waving his hands to express how little he wanted that to happen. There was zero world he was going to try to deal with the situation that was Isaac rubbing balm into the lines of his hips and the base of his spine. That was… way too intimate. “Thanks, anyways.”

The door creaked open, and Norah slipped in with a plate of food. She’d gotten one of the plastic plates that only he and the rest of the UPP used, the kind with a little lip around the edge that made it hard for him to see what she’d dished up.

And then the smell of tomato sauce and spices hit him full force, and he wondered if it was possible to fall in love with someone as a friend. “Hey, Will,” she greeted, “I, uh, I didn’t know what you’d want out of the leftovers, but I figured lasagna was a safe choice?” She gestured vaguely with the plate.

“You’re the best, Norah.”

“Uh, Norah?” Lui spoke after a beat, where Isaac and Norah were working together trying to get William propped up on pillows enough to eat without hurting him. “You know how to… do this, right?” He held up the inside out compression socks he’d left at the foot of the bed.

Norah took over with ease while William ate. She’d never given any of them the name of her diagnosis, if she even had one, but whatever was wrong with her joints meant she was usually wearing her own pair of compression socks on a regular basis. She flipped them rightside out, and curled them up to pull over his legs with ease.

Then she hesitated, looking to William for approval before she wrestled them up his legs. He gave her an awkward nod, then focused as much of his attention as he could on the reheated lasagna. There wasn’t anything better she could’ve picked, honestly. His mom’s lasagna was the best food in the world, especially when he was feeling like this.

Having food in his mouth to chew made it easier to not react to the way Norah jarred his legs. Trying to put the tight socks on put pressure on both his knees and his hips, and triggered another strong flare that had him grinding his teeth.

It didn’t stop until Norah had finished setting the socks in place, and was no longer manhandling his sensitive joints. He faintly processed her apologizing through it, too quiet for him to notice until several long seconds after she’d said it.

He stabbed his fork through another bite of food, and defiantly shoved it in his mouth. He would power through. He was fine.

On the floor around his bed, Isaac and Lui got comfortable in their sleeping bags. Norah perched herself on the edge of his bed, careful not to jostle him.

“...Are you, uhm… are you gonna be okay, man?” Lui spoke, when William had reached the end of his appetite and couldn’t force any more of the food down, the pain snuffing out his hunger. The few bites he got down would have to be enough for his medication to settle into.

“Yeah.” William shrugged, despite knowing that they couldn’t see him from their spots on the floor. “I’ll… I’ll be fine. This isn’t, uhm, new. I’ve… it’s– It’s– I was diagnosed as a kid, y’know? I’ll be better in the morning. Promise.”

It wasn’t… technically a lie. He wouldn’t be in tip-top shape, that much was guaranteed, but unless something went insanely wrong in his sleep it would all settle back into place enough for him to move around again. It’d just require his heavy duty braces and the cane still tucked into his fraying black schoolbag.

Norah took his plate from him, replacing it with his water bottle and a single, nondescript white pill. He threw it back with the practiced ease of someone who’d been taking various medications since he was feasibly old enough to do so. She was still hovering there when he shakily handed back the heavy metal bottle to return it to its place on the nightstand.

Lui didn’t respond in the space it took for them to go through these motions. Eventually, sounding unsatisfied with that response, he said, “...Okay. Goodnight. Love you.”

“Goodnight,” Norah echoed, clicking off the lamp so the room was bathed in darkness. Only the light of a small cardinal shaped nightlight beside his nightstand remained. “Love you.”

“Love y’all, g’night. Hope you feel better, Will.”

“Wake us if you need anything, okay?”

“...Yeah. Okay. G’night, guys. Love you.”

BONUS 1

William was right. The next morning, he was well enough to pull his legs up and get that feeling of having his knees too straight for too long worked out of them. He was able to sit down– careful not to reaggravate anything– and pull out his braces to put on, all on his own while his friends were still sleeping.

Nobody was set to go home until that evening. Their plan had been to walk down to the cemetery, because there’d been rumours of something suspicious going on, but Will’s parents had been incredibly clear about not even thinking about leaving to check it out themselves when Norah made the mistake of asking if they could get permission.

He wrapped his wrist up in athletic bandages so he could comfortably use his cane, and demanded they didn’t change their plans.

There wasn’t anything in the cemetery during the day. They’d have to find a night to sneak out in the next few days, before it got away.

BONUS 2

“Sorry. About last night, I mean.” William shuffled, awkwardly. They’re all sat on and around the front porch, waiting for parents to arrive, or the group to disband enough to start walking. William’s knees were wrapped up tight in his black patella stabilizers, and his overly decorated cane was laid out on the stairs beside him.

Lui, laying flat on his back in the grass, made a vague noise to brush him off. “Don’t worry about it. We’re just… glad you’re okay, y’know?”

“Yeah, what Lui said,” Isaac agreed. He’s sat, leaning against the house behind Will, legs stretched out with his feet just barely dangling off the top step beside the youngest UPP member.

Norah sat, knees to her chest, hunched in on herself on the sidewalk, “It’s not a burden if I need help because of my joints, is it?” she asked. He knew it was rhetorical, but her voice never had much inflection unless she was really trying for it, so it sounded so painfully genuine.

“No! That’s– I–” he cut himself off before he could stutter his way into something spectacularly stupid. “I get your point. Thanks. Love you, guys.”