Stupid Little Blue Haired Boy (boyxboy)

LE EVENTFUL. nahhh...

hello to everyone. -waves- 

today's an awkward day, okay? i feel like being stuper awkward and stuffs. cos yeah.

i'd write some long thing about how i love you all, but i figure if i do that every chapter, it get's overrated. but still, thank you all SO much, for all your support and, you know, just the comments. YES. those are lovely. 

and special thanks to miss JinxxLovesYou, for that beautiful comment that completely made my day. my week, more like it. 

now, enjoy, yeah?

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"Waffles," Timmy argues. "Waffles beat pancakes any day."

I jerk the pan and the pancake flips through the air. My audience of one applauds passionately from his seat at the kitchen table.

"What about if the pancakes were dinosaur shaped?"

He has to think it over. "Well...that's not fair! Waffles are the better tasting! Pancakes are just, yuck."

"Just yuck?" I mock. "What about French toast."

"That's a stupid question. It's always going to be French toast."

"I win. Who's hungry?"

Timmy practically jumps three feet in the air at the mention of food. "OOOOOOOH MEE PICK MEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!"

His screaming is loud enough to wake the whole house, if it wasn't two o'clock on a Tuesday. Nobody's home.

"Hm...well, I've got the stack of bills..."

He knocks those to the ground.

"The empty placemat..."

That finds itself falling towards the linoleum as well.

"And the potted plant..."

This one he places gently on top of the cloth square.

"Or, the crazy energetic two year old."

Timmy looks around for another person to set on the floor. The look on his face is pure confusion.

"I don't see any two year olds," he tells me. "Am I losing my mind?"

"I meant you, silly goose. Do you want pancakes?"

"YESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!"

He's pretty much hanging off the ceiling at this point. We've only been up three quarters of an hour and Timmy's wide awake.

Even after my shower, I'm still asleep. I feel like a zombie.

"Here." I scrape the blackened lump off the bottom of the pan and toss it at him. He catches it in his mouth, like some sort of an animal. He's almost too good at it.

"Mmmmmmmmm. Pancake lumps. Thanks babe."

Babe.

Does this mean we're like, official, now?

Timothy Edward Richard McKinnon. What a big set of shoes for such a small boy to fill. Good thing his personality is so huge. He's like a crazed furry blue teddy bear.

"Is there something wrong with my pancakes, huh? People come in all different shapes and sizes. Ever stop to think why it's shaped like that? Maybe it's on medication that makes it gain weight."

He cracks up, this beautiful, healthy sound. Just totally lets loose. "Are breakfast foods people now?"

"For sure. Now shut up and eat."

I sit down across from him, plate empty.

"Aren't you gonna eat, too?"

My head shakes.

"You gotta eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"Damian..." Timmy sets his food down and jumps onto his haunches. He looks like a cat about to pounce. "This better not be one of these food throwy-uppy things that I've gotta hold your hair back for you stuff cos I did that for someone once and it was not pretty. She threw up like, everywhere and in Zachary's car and..."

"I'm really just not hungry."

"Too bad." He stands and holds his dish out to me. "I'll feed you."

"Nope."

"Open up!" The look of pure compassion smiles back at me. "The airplane needs a safe place to land!"

"I'm not three."

"B-but..." He stammers. "The air...airplane!"

I don't open my mouth, and he changes tactics.

"Eat the goddamn pancake-oh I can't do thispleeeeease?" His eyes open as wide as the moon. "Will you please eat it?"

He's so goddamn cute.

"Just one bite."

"One? You can't live on one bite of pancake! You'll starve! You'll get all skeletony like those kids in poverty and have your tummy get all full of air and then you'll die!"

"Will you bury me next to Justin at least?"

Timmy cringes. "That's morbid."

"I'm serious. That's where I want to be buried. There's an open plot and everything. I wonder if I can reserve it for next year."

I'm joking, but in a way I'm not. I'm not entirely sure where I'm going with this.

This is why I didn't like to talk. Because you never know what turn it will take or how the other person will react and what words they'll give you to work with. It's like life and death. Everything is like life and death if you look at it right. And because like death, silence is absolute.

"I'm worried about you."

"Pardon?" His words stick in the air.

"I said," he repeats, "I'm worried about you. I can't tell if you're kidding or not, and it makes me afraid."

I shift forward in my chair, leaning towards the boy across the table from me. I take his hands in mine. "And what is it that you're really afraid of, darling?"

He speaks with no hesitation. His next words have no need to be thought through. "I'm afraid of losing another Zachary. And having to leave because of it."

I kiss him. Because he looks like he could use a little affection. Because I could use a little affection. Because I understand how he's feeling.

Because, why the hell not?