The Boy Witch

Chapter 32

When Miles woke up in his bed, he blinked slowly a few times. He recognized the ceiling of his bedroom at the witches’ mansion. His head was spinning, but most importantly, he was starving. He had never starved this much, except when his mother had locked him in a closet for days. Miles let out a long whine.

“In rough shape, eh?” Sam’s voice resonated in the large, quiet room.

Miles turned around and was met with Sam, sitting on a chair next to his bed, with a warm but pained smile on his face. Miles was filled with joy despite his discomfort at the sight of his precious friend and returned his smile as best he could.

“Did I pass out again?” Miles asked, as he slipped his hands from under the blankets and rested them on his chest.

“Something like that,” Sam answered. “You don’t remember what happened?” He tried to hide his shame, but he could not. He still could not believe he had let himself be taken advantage of and done something so horrible to someone for whom he cared so much.

Miles looked at his friend and pondered for a second, trying to summon his memories. He drew a sharp breath. “You… you hit me with a vase,” Miles declared. “And then I was stuck in a dark place.”

“Miles…” Sam started, reaching for his friend’s hands. “I’m so sorry…” Sam’s eyes welled with tears. The shame was overwhelming. And so were the feelings, the ones that made his heart flutter unbearably. Coming so close to losing him had been a nightmare, and Sam never wanted to let go ever again. He swallowed hard, trying to calm his racing heart.

“I know what happened,” Miles replied, sitting up on his bed as Sam took his hand back. The shorter boy stared at his friend with a serious look. “I recognized that look in your eyes, the emptiness in your expression. I’ve seen that look in my dad so many times… What happened was my mother’s doing. Wasn’t it?”

Sam nodded solemnly. But the shame, the guilt rushed back. “I shouldn’t have let her take advantage of me. I should have stopped her. Somehow.”

“Don’t think like that,” Miles grabbed Sam’s arm and squeezed it. “This is not your fault.” Miles tried to smile, but he was upset. He was used to his mother’s abuse, her hate, though he had wished, desperately, all his life that she would love him someday. He would have even appreciated her indifference. But even when she was held prisoner in the basement of the coven’s mansion, his mother still plotted her son’s demise, even using his best friend as a pawn in her scheme.

“What has you upset?” Sam asked.

“I just wish my mother didn’t want me dead so badly,” Miles answered, heart-broken.

“At least, the witches care about you,” Sam tried to reassure his friend. “You should have seen them, trying to find you.” He stopped himself for a second and took his breath. “And I care about you, too.”

Miles smiled warmly. “Despite everything,” he started, “I’m lucky.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

Mortimer jumped on Miles’ lap and the boy was elated to see his pet. He rubbed the cat’s head. Mortimer pushed his head into his hand, eager for affection. His purr resonated in the room.

“Mortimer missed you, too,” Sam said, reaching to pet the cat’s back. “He slept by your side all the time while you rested.”

“I’m happy to see him, too,” Miles said.

The cat distracted the boys from what needed to be said, as they both focused on petting him. They both took comfort in the soft cat. Suddenly, Miles’ stomach grumbled.

“You must be starving,” Sam said.

“I am,” Miles replied. “Could you go get me something to eat?” He did not want Sam to leave, but his hunger was more pressing.

“Of course,” Sam answered as he rose from his chair. He headed out of the room for the kitchen.

Miles waited, still petting Mortimer who was no less enthusiastic for his owner’s love. Miles smiled to himself. He was sad to see Sam leave his room, however temporary his absence might be, but at least he had Mortimer to keep him company. His heart was twisting in his chest. He knew what he had to say but the words were trapped in his throat. Mostly, Miles was convinced he did not deserve a happy ending, that even if he said the words, his feelings would not be reciprocated because he was inexcusably defective, unworthy of love. As his thoughts raced, he lost his smile. He thought he might just cry. 

Finally, the door opened, letting in Sam who carried a plate of food, and Felicity. Sam gave the plate to Miles who accepted it gladly, pushing Mortimer off his lap to set down the plate. He grabbed the sandwich it contained and took a big bite, sighing his relief with his mouth full. Sam smiled when he saw his friend happy.

Felicity approached her pupil, sitting on the chair Sam sat on previously, the tall boy standing behind her. “How are you feeling, Miles?” She asked.

“Better now,” Miles replied after finishing his bite. “I’m starving.”

“No kidding,” Felicity added with a soft face. “You haven’t eaten in days. Besides that, how are you?”

“Pretty tired, a little dizzy.” Miles took another bite of his sandwich.

“Do you know what happened?” Felicity asked.

“My mother, she tried to hurt me,” Miles started, speaking with a devastatingly matter-of-fact tone. He was used to her abuse, after all, even her attempts at the ultimate abuse. “She controlled Sam, made him do her dirty work.” Speaking about what his mother did to his friend, Miles was distraught. What she did to Sam was worse than what she could ever do to him.

“That’s right,” Felicity replied, dejected, but serious. “We’re sorry, I’m sorry, that we weren’t able to find you quicker. Your mother… her powers were stronger than expected. Maybe her newfound, forced sobriety only helped her regain her strength.”

“I would be happy for her, if she didn’t just try to kill me,” Miles tried to joke, holding his sandwich up to his mouth, before taking another bite.

Sam scowled at Miles’ attempt at humor. He felt heart-broken that Miles tried to make fun of the abuse he faced. Felicity forced a broken smile.

“Do you know what’s going to happen now?” Felicity asked hesitantly, by trying to show a confident front.

Miles looked down, laying what was left of his sandwich on the plate on his lap. He drew a careful breath and looked back up at his teacher. “She’ll be burnt at the stake,” he posited, “right?”

Felicity nodded silently. She reached for Miles’ hand and squeezed it, aware that the news would be devastating to Miles. But the boy did not cry.

“I guess,” he continued, “the relationship I wanted with my mom, I’ll never have it, no matter how hard I wish for it, no matter what I do.” Saying the words aloud was difficult. He had dreamt of having a loving, caring mother for so long, but it was all in vain. However, his face brightened up. “But I suppose… things aren’t so bad. I have people I can count on now. You, Felicity, and the council. The student witches, too… And Sam.” Miles smiled shyly at his friend.

Sam blushed a little at the mention of his name and his friend’s warm smile.

“I’m glad you realize that, Miles,” Felicity replied. “We are always here for you. The witches are a family. Your family.”

Miles turned his smile to the headmistress. She touched his shoulder affectionately. Miles was lucky, despite it all. He appreciated Felicity and her motherly side. He had never experienced anything like it before, and he was glad to feel that love.

“You should rest some more,” Felicity added. “Finish your lunch and go back to sleep.” She rose to leave, fixing her skirt.

“Okay,” Miles nodded.

“Is it okay if I stay a little longer?” Sam asked both Felicity and Miles.

Miles nodded some more.

“Of course,” Felicity replied. “It seems you may have something to say to each other,” she whispered for Sam, whose mad blush reappeared. Felicity made her way out of the room, as Miles resumed eating his sandwich.

Sam sat down on the chair, a little nervous, and waited while Miles finished his lunch. When he did, Sam grabbed the plate and put it on the nightstand next to the bed. Mortimer claimed his spot on his master’s lap again. Miles rubbed the purring cat’s head. The cat’s purr broke the boys’ comfortable silence.

Miles looked up to his friend, his heart beating fast. “Sam… Do you remember what I told you? Before you hit me with the vase?” He asked.

Sam pondered for a moment, before shaking his head no. “I’m sorry, I don’t,” he replied. “What was it?”

Miles shook his head, too, looking down at his cat. “Never mind. It was stupid,” he said, trying to feign a chuckle, but he lost his smile pretty quickly.

“I’d like to know what it was,” Sam insisted softly.

Miles just shook his head again, refusing to look up. Paying attention to Mortimer allowed him to keep to himself, retreat to his own world, where he did not have to face his feelings. These feelings that weighed so heavily. Now that he realized them, now that there was a chance, they were all he could see.

Sam nodded to himself quietly. He shifted in his seat, grabbing at his knees nervously. He knew what he had to say. “Well then,” Sam started, “I have something to say.”

Miles looked up, carefully hopeful, his blue eyes shining bright, hypnotizing Sam. He lost his words for a moment. He had to look away to regain them.

“Miles, I…” Sam started and stopped. “Almost losing you was devastating,” he finally said. “I… I couldn’t stand it… Being without you.”

A cautious smile appeared on Miles’ face.

“I’ve never been in love with anybody,” Sam explained. “I thought maybe there was something wrong with me. But with you… I feel different. You’re special to me, and I think I knew from the moment I saw you.” Sam looked down and chuckled nervously. “I’m sorry, I’m struggling to find the words.”

Miles, from where he sat on his bed, covered by blankets and a cat on his lap, reached for Sam’s hand, who offered it to him. They intertwined their fingers without a word and Sam stared at their entangled hands, smiling to himself.

“I’m so grateful to have you,” Miles started. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, and I’m scared to ruin everything, because I… I want too much. I’m asking too much of you. You… you are everything, and I am nothing.” Miles’ voice cracked under the pressure of a lifetime of self-loathing and abuse at the hand of his mother. After losing his father, Miles was convinced he was underserving of love. Tears threatened to flow.

Sam’s heart broke. “I hate to hear you talk about yourself like that, when you are so precious to me. You’re everything to me.” Sam squeezed his hand. “Miles, I love you,” he finally said. He almost laughed when he said the words. Hearing them from his mouth for the first time made him realize they were long overdue.

Miles’ tears did not die down, but now, they were happy tears. He wiped his cheeks, smiling from ear to ear. “I love you, too,” Miles replied. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Sam smiled, too. He rose from his chair and leaned in, reaching for Miles’ soft cheek with his free hand, and planted a light kiss on his lips. But Miles did not let him pull back, reaching for his shoulders, deepening their kiss. Sam’s polite peck was just not enough.

When they broke apart, Sam smiled. “That was even better than I thought it would be.”

“That was everything,” Miles added, in a blissful whisper. He could not stop staring at Sam.

Sam bit his lips. He only wanted to kiss Miles again, and it was a struggle to hold back. “I suppose I should let you rest now,” Sam posited, a little disappointed.

“Will you stay? Until I fall asleep?” Miles asked, hopeful.

Sam nodded with a content smile. “Of course.”

Miles shifted in the bed to lie down comfortably on his side, his back facing his love. Mortimer snuggled up to his master, who welcomed the cat in his embrace. Sam rubbed Miles’ back slowly, until the boy fell asleep, his dreams brighter and lovelier than they had ever been.