Just Wait » Boyf Riends

Things Go Downhill Rapidly (As They Usually Do)

Taking care of two cats is, unfortunately, much harder than initially anticipated.

I took care of one animal before, and his name was Fish. Fish the fish, remember him? Fish the fish died of fish cancer. Maybe the fact that the one animal I looked after immediately died of brutal fish cancer proved that I was not fit to care for pets.

Yet here I am, surrounded by two of them.

I took Jeremy's warnings lightly when he said that:

A) Snoop was a fucking asshole. (Jeremy didn't say it directly but it was heavily implied.)

B) Schnappi was a drama queen who required frequent and uninterrupted unconditional love and attention.

C) Schnappi throws up everywhere if you do actually forget to give her her anti-emetic pills. I learned this one the hard way.

Despite that, I did love them. In the same way a mother loves a child, in the 'you keep yelling at me and complaining about things that I can't control but you are under my roof and therefore I love you' way.

Both Schnappi and Snoop were fully convinced that I had no perception of time. I'd feed them and five minutes later they'd come back, asking for more, as if I was completely unaware of the fact that time has not passed.

Schnappi meowed a lot, which wasn't as big of a nuisance as Snoop's technique to somehow acquire more food. Her most iconic move is running in front of me while I'm walking so that I would trip. I don't why she thought that would make me want to feed her again, but whatever, she's special.

Jeremy said that he'd come home from radiotherapy Saturday, and I honest to God almost sobbed, because not only am I insanely tired of these two feline assholes, but I am also insanely tired of the fact that Jeremy had cancer. That was pretty uncool.

And besides, he'd been gone for five entire days, which was probably a new record for us, ignoring that time Rich convinced him I was a dickbag, which I guess in a sense I technically was, but that's all in the past now.

At 9:37 AM (GMT-5) Saturday, there was a knock at the door, and my heart jumped into my throat.

I didn't even comprehend what was happening before I had my arms wrapped around Jeremy and my head stuffed in his neck.

"Jeremy? Are you okay? How'd everything go? What did Dr Charlotte say? Did it hurt? Does it hurt right now? Do you—"

He pulled away from the hug earlier than he usually would.

When I saw his face, my heart skipped a beat. And I suppose you could argue that my heart skips a beat every time I see his face, but this was more so in a negative light.

He looked abnormally pale, and he had red splotches on his neck. He looked painstakingly tired.

"Buddy? Dude? Friend? Guy? Pal?" I hesitated, "Babe?"

He nodded.

"Everything okay? You ain't looking too hot."

He nodded again.

"Cat got your tongue?"

He laughed slightly, but immediately flinched a bit afterwards.

"Jeremy? Are you seriously okay? If you are, then you have to say the words 'I am okay' out loud."

"I... I am..." he froze, "I am okay."

I almost grimaced. His voice sounded awful. He sounds like someone who's been smoking for thirty five years. I was so used to Jeremy having this impossibly soft voice when we were ten, and now in the distant present all I could remember was that stupid gentle voice of his, but he, admittedly, sounded sick.