Charlie and Miles

Miles

"My heart's a battlefield, and there's a war waging, a storm is raging on." - Hold Onto You, NateWantsToBattle

***

I'll admit, it stung a little when Charlie told me to leave.

I did as I promised, and stood outside, just in hearing distance. Cynthia and James were still talking to Dave, and I felt awkward, not old enough (or a parent) to join the conversation, not young enough to blissfully ignore everything.

I did catch a few snippets of conversation.

"Xylotrol... some side effects... harder to breathe... make the cancer more agitated... might work, though." Dave.

"Is it worth it to try?" James. I moved closer to them.

"Just to slow the movement for surgery? Probably. Lot of side effects." Dave again.

"But for Charlie, we should try." Cynthia.

"Alright. I just need to do some blood work, and we'll start him on it tomorrow."

Dave rounded the corner, looking through some notes, and I moved so he wouldn't run into me.

"So what trial should we start with," I asked nonchalantly. "I've been looking through the trials I had Janice collect for us, and I was thinking—" Dave cut me off.

"We're going to start with the Xylotrol."

I scoffed. "But isn't that a little risky? I mean, the success rate is so low, and those that do succeed almost always have recurring."

"I know, but with the insurance and money, it's going to be hard to find affordable ones that will work."

"So start off with," I grabbed his clipboard and flipped to the side effects page. "Possible aggression of cancer cells."

"I understand that you don't like it, and I respect your opinion, but while you're in training, you listen to what I say, okay?"

He walked away to go get vials to take blood, and I sagged my shoulders. Sometimes he did this, took over the patient's treatment until he realized a mistake that he's made, and begged me to fix it.

I pulled the plastic gloves on, making a ball with my hand. I always hated the feel of the thin plastic over my skin, but I still put it on, everyday.

He handed me the vials and needles, and I opened Charlie's door. David stayed behind, for no apparent reason, and I let the door shut on him.

"I thought I told you... Oh," he said, cutting himself off as he saw the needles. He paled slightly.

I smirked. "Scared of a needle?"

"No," he said, and then gulped. I smiled even wider. "Lying makes you go to hell, Charlie," I sing-songed, taking my seat from before.

"Good thing I'm already there." I paused, setting the needle and vial down.

"Is the hospital a hell to you, Charlie?" I asked. My heart was actually pounding. Does he hate me? What did I do wrong?

"No, no, well, when I have to take blood, it kind of is, for a few seconds. But the company of a fellow emo makes me feel a little better." I exhaled, not even realizing that I had been holding my breath.

"I'm not emo," I argued, continuing prep.

"Oh, please. You couldn't be more emo if you got a tattoo of the lyrics to Welcome to the Black Parade all over your back."

I finished wiping his arm with antiseptics, my brain thinking dirty thoughts. Stop it, I told myself, this is not the time.

"You still have an emo haircut," I pointed out.

"I do not," he said, using his other arm to pat his beautiful hair.

"Alright. Are you ready?"

He nodded, looking away from his arm. I felt bad, and while my left hand set the needle up to puncture his skin, my right hand took his.

As I took his blood, he squeezed my hand. He didn't let go after, and my heart was racing, waiting for him to notice and go "No homo, bro". After I removed the needle and capped the vial, I took a band-aid out of my box.

"I found a bunch of band-aids I thought you might like." He looked over, and he started laughing. The bandaid was black, with MCR written in white.

"You've got to be joking. Where did you even—"

"Had them commissioned a while ago, but most patients are old and don't know who MCR are."

"What a shame."

"Indeed. At least now I have someone to use them on, except myself."

"Well, thank you for being the only emo doctor in existence."

"You're welcome." I, unconsciously, had leaned in, and our faces were practically inches from each other. This was the closest I'd been yet, and I stared into his eyes, his brown eyes with the golden and black flecks, like they couldn't decide to be dark or light.

I was slightly annoyed when someone knocked on the door, standing up so it wouldn't seem like what it probably wasn't. Charlie cleared his throat, and relaxed his hand, but didn't entirely let go.

"Come in," I called to the shut door, and I slid my hand out of Charlie's, picking up the tray with the vial and needle. It was David, who smiled when he entered.

"Goodness, Miles, for a second I thought you two were making out, you took so long."

I died a little. Deceased. I suddenly wanted to sink into the floor and just hide in the linoleum. Maybe as a tiny ant human thing, I could convince someone to step on me.

"Nope," I replied quickly, but probably not smoothly. "Just wanted to make sure everything was untainted."

David chuckled, stepping closer to take the tray. "Thank you, Miles. We'll get these down to the lab, and by noon tomorrow we'll have an idea for the proper dosage."

"Dosage of what?" Charlie asked, and I turned to Dave.

"Indeed, David, dosage of what?"

David grimaced at me, and turned to Charlie. "I've discussed this with your parents, and we've decided to start with Xylotrol, an experimental drug that has shown promising work in slowing and stopping the growth of cancer cells."

"Alright." Just like Dave was hoping. Still childish enough that he wouldn't want to go over the details of the medicine and the effects. As long as his parents trust the doctor, that's all that matters.

"Miles, walk with me to the lab. I'm afraid I'm not what I used to be, and I need someone to hold open the doors."

I grimaced, both because I'd be separated from Charlie, and also because I'd have to talk to David, but I agreed nonetheless.

I took a last look at Charlie before shutting the door behind us. I still felt the warmth of his hand in mine as I walked away.