Special Boy // phan

-34-

The rough fabric of my over-washed sheets have never felt so warm. The thread-bare blanket that I used to draw around me tightly has never felt so comforting. My bed has never felt so full.

Phil's breath was soft and soothing, deep and peaceful. His body was far away from me, but his arm was draped around my waist, almost like he was hesitant to stay. Which I knew he was. But the feeling of his warmth beside me filled me with such intense love that I couldn't help but smile.

This was a feeling I hadn't felt in a very long time. Content with another person, content with myself. Content. Despite everything that was happening, I was almost... happy.

A deep intake of breath alerted me to Phil's awakening, and I quickly shut my eyes and pretended to be asleep again. I couldn't think of anything more embarrassing than Phil knowing I was staring at him, imagining tangling my hands in his hair and pressing my lips to his. I mean, I didn't know where we stood at this point. He said he loved me, but I never said it back. We kissed, but we never decided what we were to each other. He spent the night but he swore he never would. He unlocked my powers.

He unlocked my powers.

Phil was silent for a little bit, steady breathing but unmoving. I peeled my eyes open, just to look at him, to see the way he looked at me. He grinned.

"Hey," he mumbled. It's as if he forgot he never wanted to spend the night.

"Hey." He reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, his gaze intent on my healing bruises.

"You look better," he said as he put my hair again. "Almost healed?"

"Maybe on the outside. My insides hurt." My mind quickly brought me back to my previously fervent quest for my weakness. When children were young, their weaknesses were more prevalent, easier to find. They didn't have a machine or a person to tell them when they found it, they just knew. Sometimes it was obvious, like PJ's or Chris'. You use your power too much, you get exhausted or sick. But mine wasn't that easy. Mine was something like Charles Wright's, the man who had flying before Phil, something like a situation or a context or an item. Maybe it was cheese, like Phil swore his was. Maybe it was chocolate, or maybe I couldn't use my power at night. Maybe it shut off on the third of every month. The possibilities were endless, and the quest fruitless.

Finding your power was one thing. It just unlocks by itself. But finding your weakness... it'd be hard to do it by coincidence. It's something you go looking for, something that takes children, with their innate wisdom on the subject, years to find. I'm not even sure I had that long left. Sure, my superficial wounds were healing. But my potentially broken bones, my internal bleeding... it only felt like it was getting worse. I had to find my weakness, and fast. But getting out of bed was difficult, and the idea of going on a quest for my weakness was laughable. Hopefully, I'd stumble across it. Hopefully, it had to do with something, or someone, in my life or in this room. Something easily stumbled-upon.

"I think I'll start my search for my weakness at the bottom of a stack of pancakes." I pulled the blanket away from my legs and pressed my toes into the carpet, my head rushing and vision dancing with stars.

"I'm actually super good at making pancakes," Phil chuckled, pulling me back to the bed, "so I'll handle that one."

Chris and PJ came over again, and didn't mention that Phil had spent the night. He seemed so relaxed, like he forgot about his vow, or maybe realising he could lay in my bed and handle it was consoling to him. Either way, no one seemed on edge today, and that was a unusual feeling too, just like the cocktail of content and happiness that stirred in my stomach. As much as I wanted to find my weakness, to go back to school, to be normal, I was happy. I was closer to normal than I had ever been.

I had just finished off my second stack of Phil-made pancakes (which were fantastic, he wasn't joking), when Chris and PJ let themselves in. They came bearing gifts, as they almost always did, some new XBox games that we could all play together. I only had two controllers though, which made them laugh.

"I told you we should have brought our own!" PJ said, nudging Chris with his elbow. They dropped the things in my bedroom and went to the kitchen to steal my food, though it was kind of their food, considering they had brought it over the weeks before. Phil glanced at me.

"I liked our sleepover," he mumbled. "And I really wish I could stay. But I have class in thirty minutes, so..."

"Go." I smiled, pulling him into a hug. "I'll miss you." He pulled away but still held me at arms length, looking me over.

"You should part your hair to the right," he chuckled, and pushed my hair back. He ran his hand through my curly locks, getting his fingers caught in knots but generally getting it to the left. I shut my eyes gently: usually, I don't like when people touch me, but I love when people mess with my hair.

Especially when that people was Phil.

He flattened it the best he could, and looked at me, grinning.

"You're beautiful," he mumbled.

"Thanks." I rolled my eyes. For a guy who doesn't like it, Phil was cheesy as hell.

PJ and Chris' voices drifted down the hallway as they came closer to my room, and Phil patted my head one last time.

"See you soon, flame boy." I smiled. Phil rubbed his nose.

As if it was muscle memory, as if his arm had a mind of its own, Chris plucked up a tissue from his ever-present box and handed it to Phil. We all stared, amazed, at Phil, waiting, waiting-

Phil sneezed, loudly, into the tissue that Chris was still staring at, bewildered. They all turned to me. Chris' power.

"We need to get you to a hospital," PJ muttered. "Now."