“Will!” Noah shouted from across the parking lot. The noise made him flinch a little, instantly trying to sit a little taller, to seem less hurt than he clearly is.

There’s not much Will can do to make the mess that is his still bleeding, and shaking right leg look any better than it does.

Trying to sit normally feels like it’s only furthering his injuries, as he sits up straighter, planting his legs firmly on the ground. No longer leaving one leg to splay out in the same position it was in when he first sat down, for fear of screaming if he moved it.

In his hurry to appear more put together, he actually does move it in a way it refuses to. What little movement he made, involuntarily pulling a choked-off wheeze of a groan.

The closest thing he could get to screaming with the dreadfully pained rise and fall of his ribs already splintering him when he breathes too deeply.

“Here…” Will breathes out, as quietly and inoffensively to his ribs as he can manage. He could hear rushed footsteps across the pavement, at the groan he let out.

“What was that...” Oakley started, trailing off as they rounded the bumper of the car that was parked to the left of the bench that Will was sitting on. It temporarily hid him from the worried view of his pack.

He didn’t know what to do other than shiver in his seat at the wide and horrified eyes of his friends. His leg was painted with all shades of red, bone visible and cracked, dripping actively still. Exposed muscle next puckered deeply inflamed abraisions over his ankle.

He has no idea how he’s still awake. He could tell his knee would hurt badly if he touched it or grazed it on anything. Just sitting here hurts.

The boot left a dark imprint and an aching feeling behind where it had been. He’s thankful they can’t see his wrist or ribs, but his face feels disgusting and crusted with a little bit of saliva and throw-up.

He wipes the chin of his mouth off, only to look at it for a second and find blood next to it. It must have come up when that man punched his stomach.

It doesn’t help that his chest is red from where his ribs broke, and the headmaster punched him.

He feels like he’s been hit by a train and then dragged with his leg tied to a car going 120 down the highway. Hitting just about every speed bump until he’s dizzy, spotty in the eyes, lungs full of exhaust, and nauseous.

Will can barely get a couple of words out before he’s being crowded gently into the middle of a group hug. His friend's legs are standing away from his leg, and front, as they get every inch of his unharmed skin in their hug as possible.

He wants to stay in this moment, but it’s not over yet. He can’t rest yet; he can’t think about what just happened. He can’t even think in straight linear thoughts. Not yet.

“It h-hurts.” As much as he wants to say he’s okay, he’ll be fine. To go on spouting as much useless crap about his wellbeing as he can, it just hurts so much, and he can feel himself getting dangerously close to passing out.

That and whatever weird thing his ribs are doing to his lungs is starting to no longer be ignorable. “Where’s the ambulance?” Eve asks around quickly, and he can feel sounds get fuzzy around him, his eyelids once again reminding him of how heavy they are.

Every bit of his body aching as the blood leaks out of him, sucking the warmth from him slowly. He can feel gentle hands on his shoulders.

“Liam, please, stay awake… I, I’m so sorry.” Soft and soothing voices tell him to keep his eyes open a little longer.

The deeper one is tainted with worry and guilt. He doesn’t know what they have to be sorry about. Oakley’s father is the one who almost murdered him, the one who might as well have cut off his leg.

It wasn’t Oakley’s fault that he had a shitty father. “S’not your fault.” He muttered, his eyes spilling over with gentle tears.

It’s been a while since Lilienne left for Will’s wonky time dilation. The nice lady returned with a couple of other policemen who looked like EMTs and a gurney.

Slowly, and gently, but with as much haste as they could, they lifted him to the gurney. The cuddle huddle letting him be moved in favor of grabbing his things for him, and promising to follow him to the hospital.

Will had completely forgotten he was in his boxers and a white t-shirt. Thank goodness he had his jacket on now. He started feeling cold a while ago, even before he got outside the building.

He mumbled something about getting warm, the EMTs saying stereotypical placating things as they strapped him in and whisked him away to the nearest hospital. Drops of rain fell into every puddle the Ambulance sped through.

Rain pattered against the window. Trickling down slowly from where it landed.

The soothing sound helped ease his nerves. He’d been in the hospital for about two weeks now.

Will was in a daze when he got here, so he doesn’t remember much about what they had done to help over the looming headache he’s only now starting to wane off of.

He only remembers the last few days, the doctors and nurses mentioning something about pneumothorax. Then, an X-ray he had to take, which resulted in the doctors declaring it necessary that he get a chest tube.

Anaesthesia was administered, and then the tube was inserted. He doesn’t remember if he was awake for it or not, but he remembers the following days when they had a valve attached to the tube, and the air had to be continuously removed until his lung expanded.

It felt like forever, even if he hasn’t had more than one surgery, the IV and observation he’s kept on are grating. He has no idea how he’ll pay for this when he gets discharged.

Maybe he’ll have to start–. Ouch. His leg interrupts him, aching inside, pain shooting out from where it had been cracked.

The feeling felt embedded deep into his leg, swimming around in bolt flashes right where the bone is; he couldn’t even pat it like a leg that had lost feeling. He’d bite his fluffy tail off without anesthesia before he did that.

The doctors had immediately had to address his leg when he got to the hospital, one nurse told him. She explained in a bunch of vaguely sympathetic words, including one triggering one (sledgehammer) he couldn’t bear to remember, that he had fractured his patella–kneecap, as well as his tibia around the lower middle of it, and fibula where it met the talus–leg bones.

All to say he had 3 broken bones in his right leg (he wasn’t told how many individual fractures he had–likely to spare him), incredible pain, and since the area was swollen, he had to wait for it to go down to get surgery.

He wanted to cry. He hasn’t seen any of his friends in two weeks. He felt like he was going through a breakup.

Since the first day he woke up, he was constantly forgetting that he could just reach out through their telepathic pack bond. He still remembered how he reached out in the first week.

“Guys?” He started, weak and almost pleading. “Yes, Will?” Eve immediately answered, surprising him. Will’s small, fitful chuckle chimed back.

“What happened while I was… gone?” He had asked her to catch him up on everything that had happened. The first couple of days, they had talked about the court case, lawyers, and how the court wanted him to testify.

Their representatives were outraged for him; he was still recovering in the hospital, and he couldn’t testify against a murderer when his leg hadn’t had surgery yet.

How was he supposed to testify when he still had trouble speaking through his ribs? Still had trouble breathing, when he was still reeling from blood loss, still affected by internal bleeding.

He felt like he was a failure for still being immobilized in his hospital bed. Long since moved to his own room. Will knows Eve would tell him he can’t do anything about it, it wasn’t like he injured himself.

He wouldn’t have to go to court if their headmaster wasn’t a serial killer, if his words in that nauseating video he still remembers are anything to go off of.

The days after the ones they dedicated to court were used to talk about smaller tidbits. The school’s operation had been suspended while the police investigated, along with the Hawthorne and Blackwell homes and offices.

Noah and Oakley gave him little updates about their home life, letting him know they’re staying at Eve’s until they’re sure their homes are safe after the investigation.

It helped soothe him immensely to know they are nowhere near their parents, as screwed up as that’s beginning to feel. Everyone knew about Oakley’s home life, far from perfect or safe.

It made them all far from happy, but in domestic violence cases, it’s often better to be there for them than to do anything about it prematurely. So they tried their best to comfort him, make him happy, and help him feel safe somewhere. To be himself, not perfect, for just a couple of hours.

The same went for Noah; her dad had problems with alcohol ever since her mother died, and she felt lonely at home or by herself in her apartment. So they would give her hugs or just play board games together whenever they could.

Will knows what it’s like to be hurt by the one you loved the most, over and over repeatedly. Chris had to force him to leave and get out. He’ll be there for Oakley and Noah just like he was for Will. He’s sorry that his little brother was there for that. Witnessing his older brother get neglected and shunned while he was given everything.

If he had been stronger, taken it better, maybe his brother wouldn’t have had to notice. Maybe he could have stayed unaware a little longer.