Charlie and Miles

Charlie

"In the crowd alone and every second passing reminds me I'm not home." - Happy Little Pill, Troye Sivan.

***

It worried me how Miles looked uncomfortable when Dr. Morse was talking about the "zylotroll". I was also a little hurt about the hand-holding thing, but considering that I didn't know whether he was gay, I couldn't really say anything about that.

I pulled my phone out and began googling it. I guess I didn't spell it right, so I tried spelling it different ways, and finally found Xylotrol.
There weren't that many articles on it, but the website said that it was a drug to slow cancerous cells in the lungs, thyroid, and lymph nodes.

As I continued reading, I got a little worried.

"Side effects from taking Xylotrol may include the aggravation of cancerous cells, loss of appetite, trouble breathing, photosensitivity in the skin, headache, and damage to organs. Only 10% of users have reported any of these effects."

Um. No? Please? 10% out of what? Help? Where's Miles?

"Miles?" I called, hoping that my knight in sarcastic t-shirts would come save the day. Alas, my savior was still delivering my blood to the labs, a place hospitals kept secret like Narnia or Hogwarts or something.

Instead, my parents came in. "Charlie, how are you? Are you eating well?"

I covered the still full tray with my blanket. "Yeah, mom. I'm fine. How are you? Dad? Where's Julian?"

"Don't worry about us. We're all just really excited for you to start medication. Dr. Morse has assured us that the Xylotrol is the way to go. We were a little skeptical at first, but it's completely stopped the growth, and over 75% of people who have taken it have seen results, and some have even been cured."

"Okay," I said, calming slightly. If my parents trust Morse, I should too, right?

***

July and August pass, the same story. Blood tests every week. One MCR band-aid gone, a new one slapped on. The Xylotrol was working, and according to Morse, the cancer cells have started to slow. Miles hadn't really talked to me about the hand-holding thing, and while there have been some other incidents, they were few and far in between, leaving me wanting more Miles and also wanting less pain every time a moment was over.

My parents had come in after a blood test. They looked worried. Julian was fixing to start school again, and we'd figured out that I could take some online classes at the community college. Morse had mentioned something about the Xylotrol was at it's peak, that my cancer was as slow as the drug would make it. My mom sat on the edge of the bed, running her hands through my hair.

"Do you need anything, sweets? Food, entertainment?"

I looked around at my trashed up area. Hidden food that I would eat later. Three empty coffee cups on the table. A stack of movies balanced carefully on the DVD player.

"Coffee," I finally settled on. Sure, I'd already had three cups, but when it comes to coffee, it's worth it.

"Cream and sugar?"

"Is there any other way?" My parents and I drank coffee with cream and sugar. Julian wasn't allowed to have coffee, yet, but the one time he tried it, he said it was too sweet, and now we're all afraid he'll like black coffee.

Mom smiled and left the room for the coffee, leaving my father and I alone.

I remembered telling my father about me. It had been a week after the blood test, and I'd just told Eric, who'd reacted like any sane person, and told me he was here for me.

"You should tell your parents though," he had advised. "I'll even come with you, for moral support."

I almost cried then, but I saved the tears for later. "Okay." We walked into the living room, where my parents were watching a really old episode of Wheel of Fortune.

"Mom, Dad. I need to tell you something."

I looked back at Eric, who nodded and sat down in the chair nearest to the door. Ready to run, as always. He gave me a thumbs up as Mom turned off the TV.

I took a deep breath, my heart pounding in my chest as I prepared for the worst.

"Mom, dad, I'm... I'm gay." Right after, the phone rang. Mom picked up the phone, walking out of the room, while my father sat there in stunned silence. We hadn't really talked about it since, skirting around that conversation every time we got free time. With all the tests they had me doing, I hadn't gotten to see them much anyways, and my birthday being the solemn affair it was, I want to talk to them.

Eric had only talked to me once after, for a short time, and even then we barely mentioned it.

"Have you talked to them about... it... since, you know?" He had asked in between a CAT scan and another blood test. Losing this much blood in a week was probably unsafe, but the doctors had assured that they were taking the minimal necessary.

"I haven't. Honestly, I'm terrified that they're going to freak out when they face the reality that I'm not the perfect son."

"Hey, don't say that, Charlie. Being the perfect son has nothing to do with being gay. And besides, since when are you the epitome of perfect son? You're a rockstar, who's snuck into clubs underage and ate ten pot brownies before almost making out with Ben."

We had laughed at that at the time. But that was the extent of our gay talk.

"Charlie?" Dad calling my name brought me back to the present. "You okay over there?"

"Y-yeah, dad. What did you want to talk about?"

"Well, I've got a few questions about you."

"Ask away."

"H-how did you know?"

"How did I know what? That I was gay?" I thought back. There was that game of spin the bottle when I was twelve, the hot new kid when I was fifteen, and then there was Miles. "Well, when I was twelve, I was with some friends, and we were playing spin the bottle, and it landed on this guy, PJ. That was probably the first time I realized that my feelings for boys were different from most other people."

"I don't mind that you're gay," he blurted out. "I just don't want to hear about it."

"What?" Fear struck me. He hates me. He hates who I am, who I like.

"I know your mom is okay with it, and she even wants to talk boys with you, but I don't want to hear about it. If you find someone, I'll meet him, but no PDA. That's the rule while you're living under my roof." His voice rose as he spoke. A rush of anger ran through me.

"Under your roof? I hate to break it to you, but I no longer live 'under your roof'. I live at the hospital now, and when I get out, if I get out, I can live on my own."

"Well, fine. But don't bother visiting if you're going to do your gay stuff around us." With that he stormed out of the room. Mom entered soon after.

"What was that all about," she asked, handing me my coffee. I ran my finger around the rim, thinking about what he said.

"It's nothing," I lied. "He probably had to use the restroom or something."

"Oh."

"Actually, mom, can I have some time alone? If I'm going to take some online classes at the community college, I better start on my summer reading."

"Are you sure?" She asked. I smiled at her, hiding my pain behind the happy face. "Positive. Call Julian, make sure he's not doing anything stupid."

She smiled back, her face like a ray of hope. "Sure thing."

She left, and as soon as the door shut, I felt the first few tears fall down my face. My father hates me for who I am. Breathing slowly becomes harder, like my lungs are filling up with water. My vision became spotty, and I had a hard time breathing. I felt around for the button. Where's the fucking button? I found it, and had barely pressed it when I passed out. The last thing I remembered was Miles running in, calling my name.