505 // phan

one

phil

the thing that always messed phil up was that he didn't feel disabled.

he knew that technically he had brittle bone syndrome (and, god, what he'd do to never have to hear that phrase again), but it wasn't the osteogenesis imperfecta or the occasional chronic pain that made him feel really sick.

it was his parents. his parents and their spare wheelchairs and unnecessary doctors appointments and their stupid caretakers.

they probably wouldn't call them caretakers — not to phil's face, at least — but that was what they were.

it seemed like every few months there was a new one, invading phil's space at all hours of the day and shoving heavy, painful vitamins down his throat, and his parents still couldn't seem to take the hint.

phil spun around in his desk chair to face his mother, who towered in his doorway like a concerned, tired oak tree.

"is she gone?" he deadpanned. she sighed pointedly, tucking some brown hair behind both ears before clasping her lean hands out in front of her.

she was wearing black dress pants and a matching jacket, the whole ensemble — she always dressed like she was on her way to a business meeting, even when she was just going downstairs to eat breakfast — but there were fluffy brown slippers on her feet, ruining the illusion.

"yes," she sighed out. she sighed a lot recently, and phil would be lying if he claimed it didn't make him feel terrible. not that he'd tell her that. he turned his attention to his lap, tugging absently at the string of his grey sweatpants. "honey, i wish we didn't have to let her go. it's so hard to find good help these days."

phil scrunched his nose, his eyes still trained on his lap. by help, she really meant a live-in-nurse with little to no experience that made sure he wouldn't fall and break his ribs on the way to the bathroom. "she always gave me essential oils, as if that would cure me or something. i'm pretty sure she was involved in a pyramid scheme."

his mother frowned, dragging her palms down the front of her pants in a way he was pretty sure only moms could pull off.

"at least you didn't get hurt."

phil could feel his whole body tense up as soon as the words left her mouth. he knew it was silly to be so sensitive in his condition, but he hated when she said things like that. it made him feel fragile and sickly when, really, he didn't think he was either of those things. at least, he didn't want to be.

it wasn't always like this, and that was what sucked the most to him. they used to treat him like any other kid, save for a few extra doctor visits and a little precaution.

but after what happened in his second year, that hadn't been an option to them. it had scared the living hell out of them, and by the next week he was being homeschooled, confined to his wheelchair and his room and his own stupid mind.

and now high school was over, and he felt like he'd slept through the whole thing. he didn't want to bring up college, he didn't want to even think about it, because he was sure it was going to go the exact same way.

phil was sitting through his own life, watching it go by like his own personal sucky movie. and he didn't know what he was waiting for, but it sure as hell wasn't online university.

he was pretty sure his mother could tell she'd hit a nerve, because she sighed again and strode into his room, leaning over to pick up a t-shirt from the floor and folding it with careful hands.

"are you talking to teagan?" she asked quietly, nodding at his computer that was clearly switched off.

"no," he mumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets. "she's asleep."

sometimes he regretted telling her about teagan. she was always a little weird about it, as if she was afraid he was going to run off with a girl who lived in canada.

his mother cleared her throat, laying out the shirt on top of his dresser neatly. "what were you going to do today?"

phil watched her suspiciously. "i was going to watch a movie."

she smiled, but it felt far too forced. "another one? are there any movies left?"

phil laughed dryly. "you'd be surprised."

she clasped her hands again, straightening up, signifying their brief small talk had come to its end. she was good at that, implying things without having to say a word... her features were soft and fairly welcoming, the smile lines etched into her cheeks betraying her underlying usual kindness and hospitality, but her body language told you she was all business, all the time. phil had certainly seen his fair share of that side of her. she wasn't very fun to disagree with, and neither was his dad. which was a problem, because he almost constantly disagreed with them.

"we put something in the paper about your situation."

phil nearly choked on his own breath, his tired blue eyes going wide to stare at her. "what?"

she tilted her head at him, as if she didn't understand why he was so flustered. she was a great actor. "yes... we need a replacement for anne, phil, and we're out of contacts. we've already gotten some interesting replies..."

phil rubbed his face with both hands, trying not to overreact. yelling at his mom was never a good choice, especially over something like this that she was so adamant about. he took a deep breath, closing his eyes.

"okay, mom, please — just — okay. please don't hire another old person, especially somebody you found through the newspaper. jesus."

she placed her hands on her hips, and she looked incredibly out of place in phil's messy room, standing in front of his collectible film festival posters and the now scratched up and faded dog stickers he'd stuck to his walls when he was twelve.

"well who would you have me hire?"

"i don't know. just — someone closer to my age, please."

phil honestly wasn't sure what possessed him to give that response; he worked terribly with most people his age; he just knew he couldn't deal with another adult patronizing him like a sick child patient. if there had to be anyone, he needed someone who at least knew what it was like to be young.

his mother hummed and frowned, scratching at her chin. "really? you'd like that?"

phil ran his fingers through his tousled black and brown hair — his roots had started to be exposed, but he didn't have the energy to re-dye right then. "no. but at least it's something different."

she nodded slowly, thoughtful. finally she looked up again, pushing her straight brown hair delicately off her shoulder.

"okay. i have some calls to make." she jabbed her finger in his direction, pointing at him. "be ready to go out tomorrow around 8 o' clock." she pursed her lips — "and please take a shower."

phil groaned as she left the room, standing up to close the door behind her.

he was already dreading this.