The Boy That Stole My Heart

CHAPTER FIVE

           "Your room is great," I told him and I wasn't just saying it. There were model planes and rockets hanging from the ceiling and an hole in one wall that you could climb through and into an alcove where there was a couch and TV.
             He shrugged. "You don't want to ask?"
             "Ask what?"
             "Are you pretending to be daft?" He asked me with a roll of his eyes. "Or should I be genuinely worried."
             I couldn't help but smile. He was a sassy little shit. "Do you want to tell me?"
             "No. Not really." He answered with a scowl.
             I shrugged. "Forget about it then."
             So he did, instead showing me some of his models and letting me flip through his sketch books. I enjoyed how animated he was when he got excited, his hands dancing around wildly and he would begin to talk so fast that he would run out of breath stringing sentences together.
             "How long in the cast?" He asked a bit later once we had gotten used to each other.
            "Probably about six or eight weeks," I told him. "Wanna sign it?"
            He smiled behind the mask. "I've got a better idea. Come on."
            We sat at the kitchen table amidst out parents who were laughing over a bottle of wine as they cooked and I felt a bit like I was intruding. Logan on the other hand had no such concerns, bringing in an art set almost as large as he was and setting up shop very much in the way. For the most part, other than a bit of light conversation, we were left alone. There was no comparing our grades, our accomplishments, our future. They were content to let us just be together and I felt more at ease here with Logan than I had ever felt with anyone else.
          "I have PI," he said softly, not looking up from his drawing. Prime immunodeficiency. I get sick easily. That's why I have to wear the mask. And use the sanitizer. It's not contagious."
           "Did I seem worried?" I asked, aware that everyone in the kitchen was purposely looking anywhere but at us.
            He glanced up, his eyes thankful. "No, I guess you didn't. But that might be because you're daft. I haven't decided yet."
            "The diapers," he said softly, "I got sick last year... Really sick, and I began to wet the bed... And then worse... And I've had trouble controlling my bladder since then but it's getting better."
            We ate at the bar in the kitchen, separately from our parents and I got to see him take his mask off, the embarrassing thought that he was beautiful crossing my mind. He was so smart and funny... Kind... caring.
            "I used to fight a lot." I told him suddenly. "This was my last chance y'know.. before I.. uh, went away. If your moms hadn't stepped in then.. bad news. I am.. I'm bad news."
             He looked at me for a long time as if deciding something and then shook his head, just once, fast and sharp. "No, you're not."
             And that was it. There was no argument or reasoning. He had decided right then and there. I had been judged worthy and that was the end of the discussion. 
            I found myself quite sad when the night was over, the time to leave arriving much too soon for the both of us and we stood looking at each other awkwardly while our parents waited in patient curiosity.
            He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around me in a tight hug, the top of his head barely reaching my chin and I found myself hugging him back. He was so small and I couldn't help but feel protective over him. He smelled of strawberries.
            "Thank you," he whispered into my chest making me smile into his hair.