Bile made its way up Ned's poor throat, and spilled pint into the toilet. The skin on his knees were scraped from consecutively puking for the past three days and having to dive onto the tiled floor. Sun shone in from the window, prickling at his eyes.

Ned took a seat at the table, not having remotely a sliver of an appetite. "Any calls? Mail?" Ned questioned, trying to be sneaky about the fact that he had missed his closest friend like crazy. Their parting had been the hardest thing for him since having to come out and be tortured by the other boys.

"No, Ned, why do you continue to ask? What we should be focusing on is you getting better so you can transfer to your new school." His dad made it obvious he wanted Ned to be gone as quickly as possible, so they could continue their life together. "Go to the store and get some cold medicine, me and your stepmother are going shopping for the day."

Ned perused the aisles, grasping at any items to settle his stomach. He passed a small clump of pregnancy tests and remembered he'd once heard that they could also test for testicular cancer. Better to be safe than sorry. He grabbed two and threw it into his basket.

Upon returning home, he dosed out the medication he'd picked up, squirting some nose drops in his nose and then searched for anything more to make himself better. His dad may want him out, but he sure has hell wanted to get out of the house more. The only things left were two pregnancy tests, he laughed a little, but then seriously took the two boxes to the bathroom. He left a playlist playing out in the other room, which now switched to Go or Go Ahead. Convenient. He hummed under his breath to it, tears stinging at his eyes but he pushed them away. The song, for some odd reason, reminded him of Conor.

Waiting for the tests to finish, he sat and listened patiently to the music. Not so long ago this loneliness would've been perfectly normal or enjoyable to him, but...now he yearned for his friend. Now he simply awaited some contact from Conor. True, he could contact Conor, but maybe a small part of him was worried that Conor would no longer want him considering he couldn't use him to waste some time. The timer he'd set chimed, and he sprinted to look at the results.

Test one: Positive

Test two: Positive

Tear stung at his eyes, but he pushed them away scared to show his emotions. He didn't want to die. Things had just started looking up. He backed up against the door and slid down it, placing his shaking head into his knees, and trying to even his breathing.

***

Was it weird that Conor slept cuddled into Ned's blanket, head laying on top of his old pillow and taking in the scent? Maybe. But he'd never had a true friend like Ned. His teammates were fun to pal around with, but Ned truthfully understood him and made him laugh with his sarcastic, brutally honest comments.

***

Screw two. Any scientist will confirm that for an experiment to be valid the procedure needs to be repeated and tested numerous times. He, with hostility, lifted another basket of a completely different drug store. This received a dirty look from the teenage girl reading a magazine behind the counter, which he gladly returned with a nasty grimace. He was not in the mood to be tested. Pushing past a pair of gushing ladies that happily picked up the tests, he scooped out half of the shelf's supply and dumped the multitude into his basket. The ladies gave a phony smile, which he begrudgingly returned.

Racing to the bathroom with a jug of milk he drank half of the gallon and got two done, then went back for the half and got another two done. Placing the jug down, he took a seat on the dirty, moldy bathroom floor. He lightly tapped the tiled floor, the burning of his raw knees and the throbbing of his head being the only noises he heard. Checking his phone, the few minutes had passed and it was time for the moment of truth...for real this time.

Test three: Positive

Test four: Positive

Test five: Positive

Test six:...Positive

Holding back his emotions and suppressing them was no longer an option. He burst out into tears, making noises of distress and cries of regret. Without thinking, without considering the days of waiting he'd done just so he wouldn't seem desperate or like he cared, he grabbed his phone and punched in some numbers.

"Ned, I can't-"

"C-Conor" Ned choked out, his voice cracking amidst the single word. Only a word, yet a word can mean so much.

Conor paused, the sounds of bustling stopping, and he gave his full attention and worry to the situation at hand. "...Ned, what is I.T?"

Ned ran his spindly fingers through his luscious ginger hair, "Conor, I don't wanna be alone...please." Ned sobbed, sliding down the grimy bathroom wall, and resting his shaking hand on the back of his neck.

"Ned, tell me what's going on." Conor's voice was still soft, but a bit stern.

"I-I've been sick for a week now a-and I took medicine and a pregnancy test....that came back positive."

"You're pregnant?" Conor yelled into his phone.

"No. A positive for a guy means cancer—oh, god. Conor, I can't die now. I just started to enjoy my teenage-hood." Ned sobbed, clutching the strands of hair that he'd held under his fingers.

Conor swallowed hard, his mind completely at a stand still. He couldn't think straight or of anything, yet his head raced simultaneously. "Where are you? Stay there."

"Boots." Ned replied, with a whimper.

Slowly removing the phone from his ear, Conor stood stunned for a moment in time. He watched as other boys laughed and talked dirtily about their girlfriends. His face must've lost any color it had because Victor looked at him with concern. "You okay? Blimey, you look as pale as a ghost."

"I gotta go." Conor replied without emotion, and sprinted out of the locker room with the clatter of the door slamming behind him. He'd run many times when he had been late to rugby practice but none times were as fast as how he was currently going as he ran back into the school, nearly pushing over classmates, and into his English teacher's room—which had a class going on.

"Conor, I'm-"

"Ned!"

The teacher furrowed his brow at the mention of his once favorite student, and the boy that Conor clearly cared for. "Conor, take a seat the period will be over in a few minutes."

Conor hopped on top of the desk, pushing over some writing utensils and papers. The teacher watched, and tried to continue his lesson. After a few moments of the students staring weirdly at Conor, and Conor staring dully staring into space, the bell rang and every student raced out of the classroom. Once the classroom had gone deafeningly silent, Conor spoke, "I Ned a ride to go find Ned. He took a pregnancy test and it's positive."

"What?" The teacher said at the incoherent words Conor had spewed.

"Ned has cancer...maybe. He's all alone. I need a ride." The teacher nodded and threw Conor his car keys, "I meant for you to drive."

"I've got classes. Go." The teacher said, as if I.T was obvious.

***

Making a commotion, he ran as fast as his legs would carry him to the back of the store where the bathroom was. "N-Ned?" Conor panted out, then heard the click of the lock. To which, he slammed the door open, seeing Ned curled up into a ball on the floor next to the door, sobbing uncontrollably. Sliding to the floor, he considered his course of action. Admittedly, he'd never been great at consoling. Placing a hand on Ned's shoulder, he tried to hold himself back, but exploded and tackled Ned on the floor—holding Ned's small, frail body close to him. Placing a hand through the boy's unruly hair, he blinked away slight tears. "It might be faulty," He assure more to himself but to Ned also, "Tests like that...they like to take the piss outta' people, I heard." Ned's hand grasped onto the back of Conor's hoodie—grasping so tightly that his fingers shook with the fabric under it. Conor harshly pulled up, Ned's pull weakening before releasing and feeling alone again. All alone in this cruel world. As he pulled his hands away, Conor grasped one of his wrists and dragging the weak boy to his feet, putting a comforting arm around Ned's shaky shoulder— that shook relentlessly with each cry. The woman watched the two, giving an odd look, but quickly returning to her dreck when she saw the protective look that Conor wore with vigor on his face.

"You look like a serial killer." Ned deadpanned to his expression, which Conor then chuckled and attempted to lighten his look. Ned turned his head as they exited the store, peering at the other's calloused, rugged hand, and memories resurfaced of their last night together. Hastily, Ned hit away Conor's protective hand; Conor looked to Ned with surprise, that quickly shifted to disappointment.

The whole car ride, Ned pressed his moist face against the cool of the window. Conor glance at him every couple of minutes, watching the boy and feeling like he'd gotten the old Ned back. The one who didn't trust him, nor had an intentions of letting him in.A loud noise of a neighboring car pulled Conor back to the world other than the one that involved him and Ned—no one else—and before properly registering the world he was quickly returning to, he hastily turned the steering wheel to avoid hitting the car across in the four-way road. Checking to see if Ned was shaken by the sudden action or the near tragic experience, he saw Ned's eyes softly closed and the tear stains were no longer freshly streaken. Conor's pulse was relentless and he repeatedly made attempts at evening his breathing, but it only sped up and he was forced to pull to the side of the road as his vision blurred the other cars into streaks of color. Slamming an angry hand onto the handle of the steering wheel, he began to feel his heart as if it had implanted itself into his head, causing a prevalent throbbing. Turning his hand, he saw himself in the reflection of the window and recognized the water that crawled, in drops, down his pale face. The last time he'd seen himself like this was after the first person found out. Of course, the victim to his brutal attack had no idea that he cried like a young child once he'd reached the comforting four walls of his own room. But, really, who's the victim in that situation? The memory— of his father walking in on him crying and, without empathy, yelling for his son to act like the boy he was—caused an ache in the back of his head on top of the throbbing. Just because emotions are relatively shielded doesn't mean the emotions disappear. Ned had become like a part of him, which he accepted happily. They'd spent so many hours together that when he'd left without giving a warning, Conor almost felt lost with all the extra hours he now had.

After a few moments Conor could feel himself becoming drowsy, despite it being mid-day, and soon he also had lost himself in unconsciousness. What a wonderful place to lose yourself in.

***

A sudden ring awoke both boys, and Conor grabbed the phone and answered it. "Do you know what time it is?" An unknown voice screamed into Conor's poor ear, and he flinched at the sudden noise.

"No." He stupidly replied in his daze.

The man paused, seemingly recouping his scattered thoughts, then continued, "That little—" The voice continued but sounded more distanced, "He's with a boy. He's making us worried over his mindless affairs."

"Mr. Roche?" Conor caught on, finally. Removing the phone from his ear he realized the phone belonged to Ned, then returned the phone to his ear. "No, I was giving Ned a ride to...the store."

"For three hours?"

"Yes." After the answer, that he received as disrespectful, the line died and the phone cancelled out of the call window. Peering out the window, he saw that it was now pouring and the sky had darkened into a purple-blue. At that point he was wide awake; sighing in a mixture of fatigue and desperation, he started up the car and pulled back onto the road.

As he pulled into the Urgent Care Center, Ned was drowsily shifting—coming back to consciousness. "Ned?"

"What?" Ned angrily responded, annoyed due to being awoken by his "roommate". "Bugger off. Go running in a few minutes, Conor." Ned kept his eyes closed, tightening them slightly along with furrowing his brow.

Pretending he didn't hear this, the rugby player hopped out of the car and slammed the door as hard as he could so that it shook the car. Almost immediately after starting to walk towards the entrance, a surprised Ned stumbled out of the car. "Wait...it wasn't a dream?" Ned let his mouth hang agape and weakly closed the door behind him. "We had sex? That was real?"

Conor's eyes widened in surprised, then his eyebrows arched upward and he gave a small smile. "No, that was the dream, mate." He laughed and then everything came back to him. Conor must've been too drunk..of course. Why else would anyone get near him? "You alright?" Conor questioned, watching Ned's face fall.

Quickly Ned thought of a coverup, "I have cancer, Conor. Have you not been paying attention." Ned tried to laugh it off, but the lump in his throat refused to go down.

***

Nervously, Ned tapped the corner of the clipboard with a bitten, dented pen. Someone before him must've been nervous too. He read over the form. Nausea/Vomiting? Definitely. When was the last time you menstruated? Uh, maybe cross that one out. "Can't answer that one, huh?" Ned joked, but Conor's bulbous eyes gazed dreamily at a guy who wore a wrap on his left forearm. The man's blue eyes with wisps of green flickered from his nervously twitching hands to Conor's lingering gaze. Almost gagging, Ned returned to his paperwork—taking painful momentary glances. Right. Everything is easily forgotten...quickly fading...wisps that are constantly eroding. Especially the memories that are wished to disappear. The smallest, most unnoticeable trickling tear tore down Ned's freckled cheek and, eventually, rested in a small wet spot on the papers.