Winged

Chapter 21

Timothee stayed at the hospital nearly all night.

He watched as Apollo slept, he was there when his parents fell asleep, too, safe in each other's embrace. He was there when the nurses came to check up on him, when the doctor did. He stayed for a long time. Apollo did not really need him at the moment. Timothee was sure about it. Apollo was safe there, he felt safe there.

And yes, Timothee felt guilty as he left the hospital, walking on the bright blue magical lines that would lead him back to Bivium but he couldn't exactly stay. Not in this hospital, in this particular room. It felt too close to home for him. He could see his mother to Apollo's mother's face but the thing that pained him was that his mother would not be relieved at the end of the day. Because Apollo would be fine – the doctors had said that – but he found himself at Bivium. So yea, his mother would not really get the chance to hear the words 'He will be fine.'

She wouldn't get the chance to hear those words, and Timothee would never get the chance to say any words to her again for that matter.

He continued walking along the blue lines as his mind replayed his last words to her. Their last words to each other. He wanted to scream. To shout. To smash his hand on a wall. To start crying and never stop. He wanted to take back everything and replace it with words of love. Gods! Was it really this hard to say to his mother that he loved her once in a while?

He felt completely and utterly lost. He felt like the person that was arguing with his mum that night was not him. But unfortunately, it was. And he knew that. And now, could do nothing about that.

His thoughts were consuming. Conquering his whole body and consciousness, letting him only with the voices inside his head. As though nothing really existed at the moment. He regretted every bit of everything he had said.

Not knowing when or where or how, he was crossing the alcove that led to his and Evan's house and was soon met with Evan's relief gaze before the shorter boy wrapped his arms tightly around him, in a much-needed embrace. Timothee let himself get lost in Evan's arms, breathing in his comforting scent, relaxing for the first time in hours, trying to shut his brain off, trying to save himself from his own words.

"Hey, Timmy, it's okay, sweetheart, it's okay." Evan gently whispered, his voice sweet and caring as his hand softly caressed Timothee's leather-wearing back. When he said those words it was as though they would be true. Just because they had come out of his mouth, the way they head, making Timothee get lost on them, believing every letter. "Let's go home."

Home. That sounded nice.

"You know something, Timmy? You're my best friend. You're the only one that's never going to leave me." Twenty-year-old Jane said to four-year-old Timothee with tears glistening in her eyes as the little boy gave his mother a comforting hug.

"Ah! Those people at work? They think they're better than everyone else. Especially that Bryan dude? Oh you know Timmy he is honestly the most terribly arrogant person ever. Like we get it, Mr. Harvard, we've all got it craved on our brains, you can stop now." Twenty-five-year-old Jane was telling to nine-year-old Timothee as he sat on the table doing his homework, laughing with his whole heart at his mother's words. "Thank god, I have you at the end of the day." She continued, coming up to attack him in kisses and hugs.

"Should have listened to you, Timmy. If only I had listened to you..." Thirty-one-year-old Jane said as she snuggled deeper into the couch, with fifteen-year-old Timothee having an arm around her, looking at her with sympathetic eyes. "Well, you never do, though." He replied as she nodded in agreement. "You, little man, you are the only man that I love. Because you'll never, ever going to leave me or make me cry for that matter. Oh except from when you were a baby. You made me cry back then. Always waking up just in time I fell asleep. But still. The only man who'll never leave me."