Love Sick [boyxboy] [Watty's2015]

II. Twenty Questions

'So, you're Doctor Drake's son, huh?' Simon asked while talking a spoonful of his soup. I nodded at him, somewhat glumly. He looked at me questioningly. I just stared back at him, like, what?

I was still inside Simon's room. We were still talking, actually talking about ourselves. Not long before Simon and I met, we decided to be friends. Honestly speaking, if I have a choice, I would never, in a million years, choose a tacky private ward as a meeting place with a new friend. But I guess I just have to suck it up.

'Hey,' he began. 'What's with the grimace?'

'Grimace?' I asked dubiously.

'You look like you've just tasted an overly lemonated lemon,' he pointed out. 'Spill.'

'It's just that I am my father's son,' I admitted. He gave me a stare. 'What?'

'You know, your dad's not that bad. He's actually pretty nice to everyone here.'

I let out a bitter chuckle. 'Simon, do I have to point it out to you that you have a freaking cancer? Of course it's his responsibility to be nice to you and to everyone around here. It's in his job description.'

'So does his job as a father to you, Tris,' he said softly.

Somehow, I doubt that. You see, Dad and Mum had divorced when I was still five and Kayla's still four. Dad went back here on Belfast while we stayed with Mum back in London. Then a few years after, she met Philip in a bar and then, after a few chats, several shots of vodka, and a night over Philips' place, they kicked it off.

And then,just like that, my hopes of my parents ever getting backtogether suddenly vanished with a poof.

'But he's not being paid for it,' I countered. I don't know if he's just too nice or just too naïve to see only the good side of everyone. He put his now empty bowl to the nightstand beside his bed

All my life, I've been disinclined to see the bad side of everything and of everyone. Several years of bullying, Mum and Dad's fall out, and having no friends made me like this. I believed that if you expected the bad things to come, you wouldn't end up hoping too much and then hurt.

I was jolted back to reality when I felt Simon's hands on mine. He gave it a short squeeze, just to show me that he understood me. He didn't let go, nor did I.

'I guess, I can't change your mind about that,' he said. 'Let's talk about other stuff.'

I chuckled. 'Yeah, I'd like that,' I replied because I was. I hated talking about my relationship with Dad. That and I want some valid reason to talk to this handsome American Adonis who's holding my hand.

'Yeah?' He grinned—that seemed to be his permanent expression. Not that I have something against it. I don't mind, really. It suits him and it's sexy.

God, I'm being a creeper here.

'Yeah.'

'Yeah,' he said.

'Yeah.' I couldn't contain the giggle that escaped my lips.

'Yeah,' he breathed. 'Maybe yeah could be our always.'

I playfully hit him in the chest with our intertwined fingers. His chest felt like sturdy cement against our hands.

'Maybe you should work up wee bit more on the originality department,' I snorted. 'A fictional kid with 1.4 legs has already said that.'

He laughed and ruffled my brown hair until it was messier than it already is. 'Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, love.'

Heat instantly crept up my face, engulfing it in the red tint of somewhere between embarrassment and flattery. My heart starting raced from slow jog to full on 200 meter marathon.