A Star for Baby (boyxboy)

Eridanus

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Three weeks later

Oliver woke up blearily to the sound of the shower running. He groaned, rolling over to look at the clock on the bedside table. Ten in the morning. It felt like five AM, what with how late Oliver had been up the night before. Baby had been coughing and puking off and on until at least three, maybe four o'clock. Oliver had stayed up with him despite Baby's frequent insistence that he was fine and Oliver should just go sleep. Oliver tried to explain to him that he was not physically capable of sleeping knowing Baby was in pain.

But that meant staying up late, which had been happening more and more often recently. Chemo sucked, Oliver was coming to realize, and he wasn't even the one going through it.

He sighed, looking over at Baby's empty side of the bed. A small piece of paper had been ripped off and left in his place. He picked it up and looked at the words scrawled there.

My bones creak and groan

Tired like an ancient tree

And I cry with them

Oliver heaved another sigh. There was that too. The haikus in the morning had been growing steadily more depressing, until Oliver wasn't sure he even wanted the haikus anymore.

Baby was hurting, and hurting bad. And Oliver couldn't do anything about it.

He rolled out of bed, tucking the haiku in his drawer along with countless other scraps of paper Baby had left him. He had to go make some breakfast. Not that Baby would eat it. Meals now had become chores that turned into fights, usually ending in Baby crying and Oliver apologizing. He just wanted Baby to eat, but he knew that was easier said than done. Anything that went down came back up again eventually, and he couldn't blame Baby for not wanting to vomit bacon.

So he resolved to make some toast, which usually went down pretty easily. He tried not to think about how every time he tried out a solution, it felt like he was putting a Band-Aid on a bullet hole. Oliver just rubbed his eyes and made his way to the kitchen.

It took about five minutes to make a couple slices of toast, another five to put jam and butter on them. This was only because he paused every thirty seconds to yawn. He looked to the bathroom, where the shower was still running. He didn't know when Baby had gotten in, but it had been at least fifteen minutes since Oliver got up and the shower hadn't stopped running. Usually Baby took two minute showers (I have to save on the water bill, Oliver) which had shocked Oliver at first but he'd steadily grown used to them. It was strange to see him taking more than fifteen minutes in the shower.

Oliver shrugged, and chalked it up to the late night and the water feeling good. But after another five minutes of the water still running, Oliver started to fidget. What if something had happened to Baby in there?

He nervously went over to knock on the bathroom door.

"Hey Baby," he started. "I just made toast, you almost done?"

He waited for the annoyed "I'm not hungry" reply, but it never came. Oliver shifted from foot to foot.

"Baby?"

Oliver strained his ears. From the other side of the door, he could make out a single, faint sob.

He immediately pushed the door open, thanking the heavens that it was unlocked. His heart hammered in his chest as he entered the steamy bathroom.

"Baby?" he called again. "What's going on?"

He threw back the shower curtain, not knowing what to expect but still shocked by what he saw.