The Secret Thing by E M Denning

Author:E M Denning [Denning, E M]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Paper Gold Publishing
Published: 2020-01-07T16:00:00+00:00

Seventeen

Christian

Christian didn’t remember Brandon leaving. He didn’t remember what page he’d been on or how long he’d been sitting at the table crying. His body felt like it weighed a million pounds and the thought of trying to get all the way upstairs was daunting, but Christian wanted his bed.

The seizure came out of nowhere. Well, that wasn’t exactly the truth. The medication had been doing such a good job for months, but it wasn’t perfect. A sob broke out of Christian and he covered his mouth with a shaking hand. He left his computer and his books on the table. He’d deal with them in the morning. The sobs wouldn’t stop, and Christian hated this part the most.

It wasn’t something he could control, but he could wait it out. This time it was worse though, because usually, thanks to his hovering mother, he’d rarely not had anyone to reach out to in the aftermath. He wanted to call Brandon, but he went… somewhere. Christian couldn’t remember. The information had been there, but it got lost in his seizure fog.

He shoved himself to his feet, bracing his hand on the table when he swayed a bit. Slowly still gulping in air, Christian made it to the stairs. He looked at how steep they were. It was stupid. They were a normal set of stairs, but his legs were lead weights.

The eternity it took him to climb the stairs zapped even more of his energy and he fell into bed, exhausted and still fully dressed. He grabbed the other end of his blanket and rolled himself up in a blanket-taco, then fell asleep.

He woke long enough to take his medication, then crashed out again. When he finally felt strong enough to get out of bed, it was dinnertime the next day. He still felt like he’d been run over by a truck. He slipped into a sweater and a thick pair of pajama pants. He’d shower later, he needed food first, despite his complete lack of appetite. He’d get sick if he didn’t make himself eat at least something while he waited for his body to stop torturing itself.

Christian shuffled into the kitchen. Not surprising, Brandon was there and when he saw Christian, he went pale. Fuck. How bad did he look?

“Hey,” Christian said, heading for the fruit bowl. He grabbed a banana and started peeling it. “How was the… thing? The… you know.” He took a bite of the banana to give himself a reason to stop talking. Eventually his words would come back, but sometimes it took a while for everything to go back to normal.

“Are you okay?” Brandon moved closer. The concern on his face didn’t bother him the way it did when other people looked at him after a seizure. His mother always looked at him as if she were expecting him to die at any moment.

But Brandon’s concern was comforting. He, so far, wasn’t smothering Christian or asking him a million questions.

“Fine. No. Sorry. That’s the answer I give Mom.

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