When William sat, Gabe sat opposite him. He left his books, his notebook, his letters up on the bench; if he needed them, he knew where they were, and it might wind up being more important to impress on William's conscious, before his subconscious took over, that he was here.
He suddenly and vividly hoped that this hadn't been a bad idea, but by then the vial was empty and William was staring at the ceiling, his eyes filmed over with a pale blue mist and his face slack. Now all he could do was wait.