Detached [boyxboy]

o n e

June 2015

Noah Thomas let out a sigh as he leaned his head against the door frame of the hospital room he had called his home for the last six months. He couldn't fully comprehend the fact that tomorrow morning, for the first time in six months, he wouldn't wake up in this room.

He glanced back behind at his mother as she gave him a comforting squeeze on the shoulder, before making her way to the reception with some of his bags, where his father would meet them with the car.

He looked around the pale blue walls, his bed pushed up against one wall, now stripped of the covers. The other side had a second single bed, generally vacant but occasionally housing an occupant for a couple of nights until they got to leave.

Six months ago Noah never thought he would feel this way, but he would actually miss this place. The staff was nice, the food was surprisingly good, and it had become a sort of home over the last number of months.

He liked the routine. Life was so much easier when all your decisions were made for you - Noah could vouch for that fact.

He took one last look around the room to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything, (an unlikely feat when his overly organized mother had been the one to clear out the room with him), before closing the door and making his way to the reception, laden down with a bag on his back and a cardboard box in his hand.

It was only as he stepped outside that he really felt the sense of being out that had been stirring since he was told he would be discharged two weeks ago.

"That the last of them?" His dad asked as he put the bag and box in the open boot.

"Yeah, that's everything" Noah replied quietly, before side stepping his dad and making his way into the backseat of the silver car.

Outside, his parents shared a few quiet words and a short hug, before joining him in the car. Noah watched them for a second before facing forward again, feeling like an eavesdropper intruding on their moment of privacy.

His dad, Michael, revved up the engine and drove out the hospital gates. "Looking forward to being back home?" His mother asked, swivelling around in her seat to face him with an encouraging smile.

"Yeah." Noah replied, his quiet smile trying and failing to match her enthusiasm.

Alison Thomas smiled wider at her son, before turning back to face forward. From the corner of her eye she could see her husband's hand cover hers and offer her a comforting squeeze, and she returned it with a grateful smile.

Seeing Noah like this broke her heart. For a boy who was once so full of life, he had become a shadow of his former self. She missed her son, the one who chattered constantly and was always brimming with energy.

The accident had worn him out, and it broke Allison's heart further to know that he couldn't remember it. Telling him was futile, he would black out and ask again the next day. He was like a broke record those first few weeks in the hospital, every day it was the same questions.

From the backseat Noah could see his parents comfort each other, and found himself filled with a sense of bitter guilt. He hated that he did this to them, exhausted them like this. He hated that he couldn't find the enthusiasm to match the efforts they made, or the energy to smile and laugh like he used to.