Straight Boys - Chapter 19: Chapter 19

Andrew's POV
The week had certainly been not-a-thing short of a tempestuous case of nothingness.
On Monday, without the inevitably odd situation with Mandy Hartfield and Zachary Rogers, it was only something I could describe as being boring. Although the rumors of Olivia Benson and Mandy Grace trying to hijack Corbett's actual date to the prom, who was, funnily enough, Allison Carson - they could not get along to end world hunger - were sadly shot down. With nothing but Gretchen Yondi to go off, who could blame anyone? She was a gossip hungry woman with no shred of decency.
If you know what I mean.
Although, who's to even say those two girls could even do a thing to Corbett. He was suspended for a week, which meant Friday too, so he wasn't going to homecoming. But if he really wanted to go, then who's to stop him? He always got what he wanted because of his manipulating ways.
Downright disgusting.
On Tuesday, I had finally decided that enough was enough and I needed to go back to the hospital to see Lola and mom. Although, yes it had only been a day, but could you blame me? The doctors had told me that at least Lola was on the cusp of healing; which meant waking up.
That's what I wanted to witness on Wednesday, but that didn't happen.
All I was left with was the site of my mother's feeding tube being replaced and a toilet bowl's edge. It was a hazardous siting to witness, leading me to hurl half of last week's lunch. Not only was I not a big medical person, but just the... the bone shattering idea that my mother needed a feeding tube because every organ in her own body was basically useless, every function she could perform out of the question, was enough to curdle even my blood.
My mother was a pile of human parts, an arm here, leg still bent up oddly, head a colossal mess, but nothing to show for anything worth an ounce of happiness. Honestly, even the doctors were losing hope.
It's only been about a week, maybe a little more. Probably a little more. Time was construing into a nonsensical plight, and I couldn't gather everything into an even slightly tidy situation to wrap my head around things. But, to sum it up, the doctors thought they'd done all they could for now and would monitor her to see if any sign of just a tiny bit of something would lean towards her getting better.
And so then ensued the never ending 'what if's' and 'It's useless' thoughts licking at my brain at a rapid rate; faster than before.
Ridiculously confusing, however, was the fact that, even during the mess my life was ever becoming, the one thing keeping me even slightly sane was Zachary Rogers. He was the one constant in my life at this point, and that was only slightly, just slightly crazy.
Okay, no it was insanely INSANE!
Before all this, I would never have guessed that piece of shit person would become remotely close to me... but somehow that bastard wiggled his little ass into my life; and I was alright with that. He was starting to become a good friend, evin if it's barely been a few weeks or so.
He, with his weird comforting techniques, were helping me with my terrible situation. Which, may I add, was how I got through the rest of Wednesday night after hearing the stupid doctors final desicion for my mother.
I was sat just outside the hospital on the steps, knees tense against my chest and hands limp on either side of me. It was still warm, with a slight breeze blowing through the streets. The sound of few cars passing by and couples idly chatting as they skipped passed without a care in the world did not ease the tension surrounding me. Nothing could ease me, not even the soft smell of coffee from the cafe across the street could calm my palpatating chest.
All I could do was sit on the steps in complete isolation within my mind, trying - but failing - to keep my thoughts from turning in the wrong direction.
After a while, it actually did start to work, this process of staring out at the calm city, watching day turn bleed into night ever so slowly and the lights to all the buildings turn on. It worked because my eyes had found a person with a familiar face walking into the cafe. Zachary Rogers.
This guy is definitely psychic.
From what my eyes could catch, he wore a pair of jeans looking slightly too small for him, and a log-sleeved shirt with some type of words too far for me to make out.
Now what was Zachary Rogers doing here in the heart of this city on a Wednesday?
I didn't really delve too far into that thought, well not that specific thought anyway. Half of my brain fought with its other between images of a life without my mom and Lola, about what I was going to do if they ended up dying, and the face of Zachary, with his annoying jokes and tendancy to wrap an arm around my shoulder.
Your mother is in a coma.
Yo, Parsley, got any Parsley? My noodles seem to be a bit bland?
Is Lola ever going to wake up? Is she even going to make it?
What's the difference between a jackass and a jackass? One's named Andrew!
Look, Andrew, I'm sorry to tell you this, but they found Lola... they found her heart had stopped.
Can you help me, Parsley? I gotta itch I can't scratch and... you know only peasants can help because I'm obviously king and can't do it myself.
I want you to let me take care of this family! I want you to be at school and get your act together while I help your mother and Lola. You don't need to be here.
If you put Taylor and Mandy in a room together, who do you think will win in a cat fight?
I didn't notice the breathy chuckles that had freed themselves from between my clamped jaws. I didn't notice the upturn to my lips nor the chest pain I was feeling slightly lessen. All I did notice, however, was the boy through the coffee shop window laughing at what the barista was telling him.
My eyes, still burning from the tears I had shed from puking my guts out, outlined Zachary's figure from my spot across the street. There was just something about him that suddenly made me feel so... fine. I felt better. It was albeit terrifying in this inconspicuous way, but I didn't care. I was feeling better and all because of some idiot I was barely friends with for one minute.
Crazy how life works.
With my eyes still locked onto Zachary, I saw him take a couple of bills from his pocket and hand them to the boy behind the counter.
I had read somewhere sometime in Psychology that, just the movement of your eyes was a calming mechanism your body had that instantly reduced anxiety. Just like, when you were a kid and your eyes followed the flippant movements of all those fish in the local aquarium and you were so memorized by their tail-finns swimming along that you felt like you could get lost in the tank with them. Your heart would slow and you would feel... content.
That's how I felt just keeping my eyes up with everything Zachary did. The upward glide of his arm to swipe the tendrils of hair from his eye's, the turn of his neck in what I presumed was to pop it. The tap of his foot as he waited patiently for whatever he ordered. Even the drumming of his fingers to some unknown tune against his leg. I didn't care that this was almost border-lining weird, or maybe even suspiciously close to checking him out, I didn't care because I was all okay with doing it. I was good. He wouldn't notice me anyway. There were other people mulling about the steps of the hospital - a man lighting a cigarette, a woman agressively talking on her phone, a mother and her son eating something akin to soup on a bench - so who's really going to notice one more stranger? I wasn't even that interesting to look at and Zachary had better things to do than check for prying eyes everywhere he w - and he was looking at me.
My eyes widened, catching the wind against their now dry surfaces in the process. I blinked a couple of times to stop the itch, and when I was staring back at the place Zachary stood, he wasn't looking at me but grabbing a cup carrier of drinks and a paper bag rolled shut. I sighed in relief. Maybe he wasn't actually looking at me. Maybe I was just seeing things because you know what staring is rude, and I shouldn't do it. I shouldn't be looking at him in anyway. I was sitting here. I was just trying to clear my mind. I didn't see any classmate of mine, and he definitely didn't see me.
"Hey." I froze.
The wind softly laughed at my conflicted state of whether or not to acknowledge the taller boy standing over me on the step. How did he walk all the way over here without me noticing? See this just proves my point. Some supernatural type shit is happening around here.
In the end, I gradually edged my head in the direction of Zachary Rogers. Licking my raw lips, I coughed before finally replying. "Uh hey." Up close now, I could finally make out the words Arctic Monkeys on his black, long-sleeved shirt.
He, as per usual, had his permanent smirk on his face and this never dying spark in his brown eyes. I never understood where he found such a gleam, or how he could always look so... happy.
I was probably just that depressed.
"Mind if I sit?" His voice broke me from my small thought cage, and I unwillingly felt my head nodding. What's with all these body before mind doings? Honestly do I have no control anymore?
"Here," Zachary was stretching the hand holding the cup carrier with two cups of some steaming drinks towards me. I dumbly stared at it like it was a foreign poison I might die from. It made Zachary laugh. "Just take one. I got it for you after all."
I quirked an eyebrow questionably. "Really?"
"Yeah, well," he shrugged, setting the carrier down to get his own drink, "I saw your lonely little stare when I was walking towards Mitch's, and I thought to myself," he then went onto conjure a thought to his facial features, eyes wistful and mouth slightly agape, "that guy could really use some hot chocolate right about now and here I am."
I just watched him after his little monologue, slightly taken aback, but more than anything, kind of relieved. So I wasn't the only who noticed the other.
Actually, I guess that's slightly weird.
Inhaling at last, I shook my head and took the Styrofoam cup between my hands. The warmth was soothing, compared to the sunset sky's chilling heap of nothing, and I whispered a thank you in Zachary's direction after a short sip. The chocolate was smooth and tasted rich with experience, and I loved it.
The whole time I stayed silent, Zachary's eyes were on my profile, studying me. I couldn't say I was uncomfortable because I wasn't. I had done the same mere moments ago, but let's not talk about that.
"Oh hey!"
I glanced at the boy next to me with an 'o' shape to his lips. He clasped the bag he'd set down along with himself and thrusted it in my direction. "I also got you a blueberry muffin. Mitch makes the best in all'f America."
Okay, now I was uncomfortable.
"I don't actually... uh..," I rubbed the back of my neck sheepishly; why? I don't really know. Then again, who knows what's happening anymore? "I don't really like muffins."
You'd think the world was ending for Zachary in that moment. His eyes got comically wide enough that I thought they were about to burst, and dropped his jaw so low, it could have been a cavern for lost flies to wander into. It was on this topic we sat debating with each other for ten minutes. It was actually fun. It was the one thing I finally did that day that wasn't depressing.
Until, the blissful moment of soft laughter and the end of pounding headaches came to... well an end.
"No... you obviously don't know good taste if you don't like muffins. Who doesn't like muffins! I bet.. I bet if I make you a batch of my amazing banana nut muffins, you'd definitely change your mi -" Zachary stopped in the middle of his spiel when a destraught young woman came flailing out of the hospital's entrance. She was crying hysterically, tripping over her feet as she took each step down, until she collapsed at the bottom, a few steps below us. Her sobs were so raw, they were almost poignant.
"Jamie... oh Jamie," is the only phrase I could make out through her emotionally-thick cry.
I looked away, too awe-struck by her tear-stricken cheeks and swallowed what I'm sure was an audible gulp.
Zachary, from my peripheral, was still staring at the woman, hands clenched in his lap and eyes wandering in and out of the confines of reality and thought. Without warning, though, he suddenly shifted tremendously closer to me, almost on top of me it felt like; and, with a warm breath against my ear, muttered, "Look, I know you might not like it, but I think we should leave." He shifted away from me so I could really get a good look at him to see if he was alright.
"Like... get away from this place?"
"Yeah," he nodded, "I can see it on your face probably from the top of the Empire state building even, that... look."
"What look? I don't look like anything." By now, we weren't whispering anymore, and the woman had been escorted away by what looked to be a friend of her's.
"Oh trust me, you have the look." And like he knew everything about me, kept talking about how I was more open with my emotions through my face than a 24/7 gas station.
"Whatever." Then, "Fine."
Truth be told, even the outside of the hospital felt stuffy, like it was trying to circle it's death-like grip around my throat and kill me along with all the other sick people. I hated it. I hated it so much, and I had never hated hospitals before, not before everything happened.
So, Zachary and I stood up, him carrying the bag with the muffin in it still and his now empty cup of hot chocolate, and I with my still half full cup.
And then we walked. We walked around down town, up and along the emptying streets, just as the night had finally come in full, and around the area. Just away from the hospital, that's where I wanted to go, and so he took me. He led me away from that pertinent situation into a sort of false fort of nothing that only helped with forgetting all my problems. We talked, laughed, and I didn't once think about how I ended up being friends with this guy.
It just happened and I was rolling with it. For once I was rolling with things.
And that's how I got to Thursday; I rolled into it, dodging the hospital that day to get homework done and to wallow in my own self pity by myself at home.
Then came Friday.
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Yay! An actual update!
I am doing and feeling pretty good. A little troubles but nothing your dear old author can't handle...
Anyway.
I hope you liked this longer chapter. I sure did!
And yes I know, where have I been, but whatever.
Well, anything you particularly loved please comment right here. So I come come to it whenever I want.
I love it when you guys love what I write. It makes my week honestly.
Anyway, VOTE and COMMENT and please be good to the world and the people around you!
Listen to music.
Eat good.
Feel happy!
Love you guys.