Stupid Little Blue Haired Boy (boyxboy)

treinta

your guys' comments make me smile more than i think they should.

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"Damian."

I'm awoken to a steady shaking.

"Damian, wake up."

Huh? Where am I? The florescent lights are glaring down at me, and I tuck my head into my shirt to block them out. Too bright.

"Damian." The voice is clearer this time. It belongs to a male, but the age is undetermined. Post-pubescent, but not elderly.

"Damian, I know you're awake. You slept here all night. Mom just about had a fit."

I rub the sleep from my eyes and look up at my brother. "Shit, did I really?"

"Yeah, come on. She wants us home."

I look over at Timmy. He's still laying there, fingers intertwined with my own. I must have fallen asleep like that, with my hand in his, and head on the edge of the hospital bed. We didn't have much success in finding anything more comfortable than the chair I already had, and when I stand, my back is stiff beyond belief.

"Still nothing?" I ask, in fear of my own question.

Teddy nods. "Sorry Damian. We can come back tonight, okay? I promise."

I lean down to give my sleeping boy a kiss on the cheek. His expression remains blank; no fluctuation in his heart pattern occurs; and I find myself struggling to hold back tears. "I'll be back tonight," I whisper to him. "I love you. Don't wake up without me."

"You're really cute with him," Teddy teases as we leave. The same nurse from before is still working the front desk, and waves at us on our way out.

"Take care of yourselves, boys," she calls, and Teddy gives her a salute back.

"And I sound like a total faggot for saying this, but I'm a bit jealous."

You? Jealous of me? Since when? "There's not much to be jealous of," I mumble. "Kissing a comatose boy isn't as much fun as fucking."

"C'mon Damian, that's not what I meant. Don't be like that."

I snap at him. "Like what. Sarcastic? Am I not allowed to be sarcastic anymore? Thanks, mom, thanks a lot."

"That's not what mom sounds like and you know it. Don't be an asshole. I know it's hard for you, losing Justin and then having this happen to Timmy, but it's not my fault. I didn't put him in a coma. I didn't kill your boyfriend. All you do is mope around like nobody else has problems or nobody else gets sad and you're the only one who's allowed to be miserable. Well that's not true, Damian. Open your fucking eyes."

I don't say anything. There's nothing for me to say. Teddy's hit me right where it hurts, and he knows it.

"Let's just go home, okay? You need some regular clothes. I can't take you seriously in those scrubs."

Just pretend like you didn't just rip my heart out. Just keep pretending I didn't already have enough trouble breathing. 

But he was right. I do mope around. I'm doing the best I can and right now that doesn't seem to be much.

I'm sorry I'm just so pathetic. I'm sorry I can't be the perfect son everyone wants me to be.

I'm sorry I'm not only gay, but I'm a fuck up too.

Teddy punches at the radio with an agitated finger. Nothing seems to come on to his satisfaction, and he finally switches it over to an alternative station in what I assume is an attempt to make amends. I stare at the cars rushing by and try not to hold on too tightly to any particular lyric. They all seem far too desperate for a Saturday.