"How was school?" His mother asked, opening him the car door.
"Okay" Dan mumbled, sitting down and putting the crotch between his legs.
"Did anything interesting happen?"
"No mum" he rolled his eyes at her and looked out the window.
His mum would only worry if he told her that he spent the breaks in the bathroom again and she would be too proud about the fact that he laughed with a new friend during english and Dan couldn't stand that exaggerated praise.
Even if he was almost enthusiastic himself about spending time with Phil, he couldn't stop thinking about how unreasonable his joy was.
There was nothing special about befriending people and talking to them, others did that everyday and the fact that Dan didn't, made him feel like abnormal.
And everything that seemed to be "a victory" or "a step forward", was in fact dull, so how could he be prideful about something that was regular for others?
"Dan" his mother repeated until he snapped out off his thoughts.
"Sorry I was just thinking about - homework"
"I thought you wouldn't have to do any?"
"Yeah" he mumbled, not paying any attention to what his mum just said.
He opened the door and stumbled out of the car, not waiting for his mother to help him and limped slowly across the street towards his house.
There was still the ramp leaning against the porch stairs, which he had needed when he was in a wheelchair, when his legs didn't work at all.
Now Dan could manage to walk, controlling at least one leg and he could climb stairs, but only a few steps.
That's why his bedroom was now on the first floor, where his dads office used to be - and because his parents didn't want him to sleep in the same room he almost died in.
"Do you want to eat? Dinners ready" his mother asked when they entered the house.
Dan shook his head, not hungry at all.
"I'm actually pretty tired."
"Okay get some rest, maybe later" his mother smiled fondly at him, tucking a strand of brown hair behind her ear.
"Yeah."
He headed to his bedroom, which was almost the same size as his old one, but painted in a warm yellow, supposedly to brighten his mood.
Most of the time it did the exact opposite though, because it didn't match Dans "aesthetics", as he told his dad the day he came home.
He laid the crotch on his desk and hobbled over to his dresser, trying not to fall by leaning against the wall.
He tried to walk by himself as much as possible at home, even though it was a lot more exhausting.
He grabbed a black pair of sweatpants, his white nasa cat shirt and closed the door so he could change.
"Dan!" his mum shouted immediately after and pushed the door open, causing the brown haired boy to fall.
"Oh, I'm sorry honey, are you alright?"
"Yeah" he gritted, trying to stand up on his own but eventually took his mothers hand.
"I've told you not to close the door!"
"Mum I just wanted to get changed" he said, annoyed by his mums overprotective behavior.
"Do you need my help?"
"God, no, just leave and let me close the door for a second" he had his right hand against the wall for support.
"You'll open the door the second you're done" she demanded, closing the door.
Dan sighed, hopping over to his bed.
His mother didn't want him to ever close his door, even if he couldn't lock it.
The possibility that she might had to push it open again, finding blood splattered all over the floor and a gun next to her sons unconscious body, made her paranoid.
When she had heard the gunshot on the 22nd of May last year, she knew that it was her son. Even though it was in the middle of the night, even if he had seemed so normal the same day, she rushed to his room and banged against the wooden door, waking up her husband.
When she saw him laying there, she had immediately thought that he was dead, that there was no possibility that he could've survived. But the paramedics told her otherwise, doctors did after an hour long operation and after four months full of tears while he was asleep in a coma, even he did.
He had survived.
