chapter six:
Caelum's entire body felt heavy and sore. He felt as if he were sitting underneath the sun for days and nobody had bothered to check on him. He let out a low moan, his eyes rolling aimlessly behind their lids. He heard muffled talking around him, but his ears felt clogged, like they do after going for a swim. He distinctly heard someone say, “waking up!” as his eyes began to open slowly.
The room was bright and he squinted waiting for his eyes to adjust. He recognized the look of the hospital room near immediately. It was early, he could tell, the sunlight’s rays had pieced through the curtains on the window. How much would this cost him, he wondered? He couldn’t possibly afford a hospital bill.
Someone was talking, he wasn’t listening, he didn’t have time to listen. “Algol? Are you listening to me?” Caelum turned to look at the speaker, it was his father.
He stiffened, and immediately pain spread through his body. His mother was sitting beside his father, a look of worry on her face. “Don’t yell at him,” she scolded, and looked at Caelum. “How do you feel?”
“. . . I will live,” he said after thinking for a moment, his throat was sore and a bit croaky. He was also tired. He wanted to sleep, but he had the distinct feeling he had been doing a lot of that lately. That was odd ― Caelum rarely ever slept. “What’s going on? Where am I?”
“You’re in the hospital,” his mother answered, sounding completely like the nurse she was. “We're trying to figure out what happened to you and if there will be any lasting effects.”
“And what exactly was that?” Caelum asked, his head was pounding. He didn’t feel like talking, but there were things he knew he needed answering. What had happened to him? They were at the grand opening. . . his father was causing a scene. . . and there was a boy, a little boy.
“You saved Calvin’s son,” his father explained. “Calvin Lee, remember? Somebody’s kid came trampling through and you pushed him out of the way. The exhibit hit you instead of him. It wasn’t supposed to fall off the podium like that, but the screws hadn’t been on right. Kaxton offered to pay the medical bills and gave some money for your college to keep us from suing them.”
Caelum let out a sigh of relief, relaxing on the bed. He wouldn’t have to pay hospital bills, he wouldn’t be late on a payment. “How long have I been asleep?” He asked.
“About a week,” his mother answered. “But it’ll be a lot more while they keep you undersupervison to make sure there were no―”
“I can’t stay here!” Caelum suddenly said. “No, I–I have to go back to school!” He couldn’t believe his ears. A week ― a whole week! All the hours he could’ve spent at the shop wasted while he laid sleeping in a bed.
This completely threw off his budget. He still owed that 126 dollars, he would have a tone of work to finish as well. Caelum felt like he was going to be sick. He was going to be sick. He turned away, bile rising in his throat, and vomited on the ground. He heaved, tears coming to his eyes. His mother stood, and pressed a button on the remote. Then, she went to the side of the room, grabbing a strange green bag with a rubber, curved rim.
She gave it to Caelum and he vomited again, it filled the bag, and then snapped off, somehow tying itself. She took it with a gloved hand and handed him another, but he didn’t need it. Everything that might have been left in his system was gone, and he felt starved.
The door opened and a nurse along with a few doctors entered the room. One had began to ask questions, but Caelum could hardly focus. He was so tired. Someone was touching his arm and his chest, shining a light down his throat and in his eyes they closed again.
° · ° · ° · °
Caelum woke back up hours later ― he knew because the light streaming through the window was softer now, not bright like it usually was early in the morning. His mother was gone, but his father stayed beside the bed, his arms cross and head lolling back. Caelum grunted, raising a hand tangled in wires to his face and rubbed at the sleep in his eyes.
He heard the door open, and turned. A young woman stepped through the threshold, holding a clipboard. She rose an eyebrow, noticing that he was awake. “Hello, Mr. Forest.” Caelum tried to sit up, but the room seemed to spin and he had to lay back down again. He muttered a swear, rubbing his skull. “Is there anything I can get you?”
“Water,” he croaked, and that was enough for her. She picked up a bottle of water from a nightstand and handed it to him. Caelum resented water bottles, but took it anyway, his dehydrated throat overtaking his displeasure.
The woman had opened it for him, and he twisted it easily, pouring it into his mouth. It spilt over the sides of his mouth and he had a hard time swallowing, but managed to do so anyway.
Caelum finally looked back at the woman, clearing his throat, “Thank you.” He felt a tingling in the back of his spine, and he frowned, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Is everything alright?” She asked and he gave a small nod, looking back at her.
“Yes, everything is―” He looked in her eyes and the tingling sensation pricked on the back of his neck. He winced, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them back up, he felt disorientated, like the room had tilted on a axis.
Caelum felt short, and. . . weird. Also, his teeth, for some reason, tasted different ― tasted wrong. He looked at his hands, his crisp, brown skin was now tanned white. And his nails were painted. In his left hand, was a pen, his right a clipboard. Caelum wasn’t left-handed.
He stared forward, seeing the familiar brown-skinned boy tied to wires, his hazel eyes dazed, staring into nothing. He was so confused. He turned quickly to the heart rate monitor on the side of the boy’s bed. He saw strands of blonde hair twist over his face as he rushed over ― blonde hair! Caelum wasn’t blonde!
He stared at the reflection. Blue eyes, a flushed, heart-shaped face, stared back at him. Caelum was confused ― and scared, very scared.
And all the while the back of his neck prickled and burned.
“What the. . . what the hell!?” He screeched, moving back. Even his voice was wrong, high pitched and feminine. He wasn’t feminine! He wasn’t blonde! What the hell was going on!?
Caelum looked back at the boy in the bed. Was that him? That looked a lot like him! How?! How was this possible!?
Caelum suddenly the pain in the back of his neck was burning ― paralyzing. He stared at the dazed, brown eyes, and squeezed his eyes closed, rubbing the back of his neck.
When he opened them again, he saw a mass of blonde and pale skin falling to the ground with a heavy thud. This woke his father and he shot up, dazed, and still half-asleep. “Wha―? What’s going on?”
Caelum stared at the woman on the ground, who was moaning now, but coming to. His father stepped over to her, “What the hell? Is she alright? What happened?” Caelum didn’t answer, he didn’t respond. He couldn’t speak, he didn’t trust himself to. He stared at his hands, crisp brown. No blonde hair or blue eyes or pale skin or painted nails. Crisp brown.
Caelum’s heart was racing, what was that, then? How could he see through that woman’s eyes? How could he feel what that woman felt?
What was happening to him?
° · ° · ° · °
Caelum sat in his bed, staring at the ceiling of the hospital room. He had a few visitors so far. The little boy, Avery and his father, Principal Davis, a few of his teachers, including Mr. Harrington, and his brothers, after they finished their school day. Nobody else had came, and Caelum didn’t want them to. Whenever he looked in any of their eyes, he felt that tingling sensation, and a few times, he had the same ‘out-of-body’ experience. He couldn’t explain it, but he had gathered research so far.
The tingling only happened when he looked in their eyes. If he had the out-of-body experience, it was almost like a timer. If his neck started to burn, his time had ran up. If he ‘went back’ soon enough, the victim only stumbled, a bit confused, but continued on their way. They didn’t retain any of the memories when in their bodies, when he moved or spoke.
It was. . . strange. It was odd. It was as if he was possessing people, and that scared him more than anything.
Caelum turned in his bed, remembering his visit with Avery earlier. The boy had insisted on reading to him his favourite book ― Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. Caelum hardly listened, but he was amused when Avery began to start doing the different voices, all of them exaggerated and silly. Caelum laughed, for the boy’s expense, of course. Avery had also made him a small band of string that he tied around his arm, saying it was a good luck bracelet.
Out of all the gifts given to Caelum, he valued Avery’s the most. He twisted it around his wrist, almost like a reminder that he was in the ‘right’ body. Avery made him promise to never, ever take it off, and Caelum agreed.
He heard a knock at the door, and he frowned. Visiting hours were long over. How. . . who could be at his door?
“Come in,” he called hesitantly. The door opened, and Caelum stared, shocked as Peter stepped through the doorway, a lopsided smile on his face. In his hand, was the strap to his backpack, which looked heavy, the coarse fabric stretching to fit whatever was inside.
“Hey,” he greeted. “Can we talk?”
“How. . . are you even here?” Caelum asked, shocked. Peter took this as a welcome and closed the door.
“Security’s a bit looser at night,” Peter admitted cheekily. “Anyways, I wanted to see what happened to you ― I heard you were hurt.” Caelum forced himself to look away, he didn't quite know what to do, now. If he looked in the boy's eyes Caelum would be putting him in danger, and he didn't exactly know the details of this newfound ability. He knew what happened to Enhanced individuals from what he saw on the news and other media outlets.
But, this ability suddenly felt like a new layer of absolute torture. Not to look in Peter's eyes, his beautiful brown eyes that made him forget all previous thoughts and actions.
This wasn't fair ― this isn't right. Caelum hated this stupid thing that suddenly defined him as a freak.
He kept his eyes on the bed as he spoke. “Take a seat,” he told the boy and Peter did. He sat in the chair closest to Caelum, then pulled it up so he could be right by him. “What do you want, Parker?”
“Well, I heard you got sick.” Caelum scoffed, sick was an understatement. “So, I thought I'd bring you something. But then I. . . I didn't know what. I mean, you are really hard to shop for and I don't have any money, so―”
“Get on with it,” Caelum huffed. The faster he finished, the quicker Caelum wouldn't be tempted to look at him.
Peter heaved his backpack on the bed. He opened it revealing several school textbooks and a folder. Caelum stared, confused. “It's all the work you missed,” Peter rubbed the back of his neck. “I know how much of an effort you put into keeping your grades high, so I asked all of your teachers if they could give me the work you would be late on. Most of them even gave me copies of their notes for the class." Peter nudged him in a teasing fashion. "How come you're nicer to teachers than you are with me?”
Caelum swallowed, feeling as if a mountain had lifted off his back. Peter didn't understand just how much this meant to him. He didn't understand what this could do for Caelum.
But, Caelum wasn't like that, teary-eyed and soft. He grabbed the bag from Peter, “Thank you, Parker,” he said with a business tone. “I appreciate it.”
Peter huffed, “You didn't answer my question.”
Caelum rolled his eyes, “I treat teachers better than you because they are detrimental to my future. You, Parker, aren't. And don't kid yourself into thinking otherwise.”
Caelum hoped the last comment would get him off his back, but instead Peter nudged him again. “I'll take the books back, if that's how you feel,” he teased, and Caelum's grip tightened involuntarily. Peter didn't notice, “So, what happened? You're all over the news, you know. There's a video going around, you pushing a kid out of the way before someone knocked down a tank. Did you really do that?”
“I wouldn't be here if I didn't,” Caelum begrudgingly replied.
“Are you still going to be on the decathlon team?” Peter asked, and Caelum pursed his lips. Knowing his father, he would want him to pursue all academic opportunities, even if he had been recently hospitalized. He'd have no choice in the matter. If he tried to quit, his father would call him out. If he did so and didn't tell him, it would bring heavy consequences in the future. The best road of action would be to stay, despite everything.
“I'm staying.” Caelum said, and Peter grinned brightly. Caelum looked at it, he couldn't help himself. Peter’s smile could light up a room.
Peter's eyes reflected the streams of moonlight coming through the window. A part of his face alight, casting shadows over his cheekbones and under his eyes. Caelum suddenly realized how dark it had been. He realized how close they were.
Caelum moved away at the same time Peter did, he scratched his arm, frowning. Caelum felt the tingling on his neck, but didn't move. “Weird. . .” he murmured, but smiled at Caelum anyway. “I'd. . . better be going. If Aunt May knew I was out this late, she'd have a fit.” He rubbed the support bar on Caelum bed, smiling, once again, at Caelum. “Good night,” he said, and moved to leave.
But stopped when his hand wouldn't move at all. Both Caelum and Peter stared at his hand, which was stuck to the plastic bar. Caelum rose an eyebrow and Peter sighed a little. “This has been happening all day!” He grumbled to himself, slowly prying his hand off. “My hands are sticky, for some reason. I keep washing them, but it keeps happening.” Caelum shook his head, hiding his amusement. Peter waved him goodbye before leaving him alone.