CHAPTER TEN: PREEMIE

Do you belong to the city or the wilds? Are you human or animal? Are you sane or lunatic? Both? Neither? Yes.
-Heather Durham

I was born at the wrong time, the doctors said so.

It wasn't exactly only that I was a preemie (I was) it was that I decided, while still in the womb, that I had already been born and my umbilical cord was cut when it hadn't been, so I tried to breathe.

To try and breathe air through my tiny nostrils that were full of liquid instead of stale oxygen.

Inside the womb, there is amniotic fluid that allows a fetus to move around in. That's what I inhaled. When I was born—pulled put/delivered like bad news—they rushed me away from my parents, not letting Papa see me like they said they would, and popped me inside something called a Toaster with a little ventilator.

Just hot enough to dry my lungs out, not hot enough to run a deadly fever or cook me up.

I was born at 24 weeks, about 14 weeks early. The statistics for a baby surviving at only 24 along in the pregnancy is literally 50/50. This led to me being really sick throughout my childhood. Right from the start, my parents called me a fighter.

My entire life, I've been trying to prove them right.

Something they won't tell you about learning that you probably aren't supposed to be alive (when you're already depressed) is that it can make something click, something fall into place. It has a way of confirming the things you didn't want to hear.

I refuse to fall into any of the death statistics, however, and so my stubborn little ass is still here and kicking up a fuss about it.

"Eris?" Demy calls me quietly, tugging at the bottom of my shirt -that I so graciously put back on. "Can I ask you something?"

Just by his tone, I can tell this 'something' is at the very least, vaguely serious, and so I check that the other boys are occupied (TJ, Seb and Riggs all talking to each other by my couches) before nodding.

"If it's about why my brother is so stupid, all I have to say is that I promise it's not genetic and singular to him. I'm a genius myself," I press a hand against my chest, feeling like giving a little humor to the situation. "Promise."

It's then I notice the anxiety on his face.

"It's not that, I..." He frowns, and my smug expression drops. "Personal. Might overstep." Demy explains, and I shrug, motioning him to continue anyway. "I just like to know if you're... safe?"

I blink at Demy, glancing between him and Seb. "Like... because of the threats? It's all jokes, mostly. He'd never actually you know-" I make a stabbing motion. "-knife me."

"I know. Your family is intimidating, but kind." Alright, it's definitely serious, if his growing anxiety is anything to go by -I can tell more in how he switched to sign, instead of his expression. "If your brother thought you would be hurt, I don't think that S-E-B-A-S-T-I-A-N would be welcome in your home."

Tilting my head at him, I raise an eyebrow, signing along with my words. "What's your question, then?"

"I..." Demy's chin tips to the side, and he drops his eyes away from mine. "You know I care about you a lot, that I care about Riggs, too. The care it feels... different. I'm not sure sometimes where your boundaries are. Your wrists. Are you safe?"

Oh.

Oh.

Of course, that's -that's very reasonable. This is the first time he's seeing me without long sleeves on, and I'm just consistently awesome so very obviously he didn't expect me to be someone that self harmed in the past.

Not to mention he's a worrier to all extremes.

"I'm safe." Instead of giving him any fake chirpy reply, I smile lightly and nod. "Promise. And if I'm ever not, I tell someone. Mostly Jae. You don't have to worry until I tell you to, and it's been a hot minute anyway."

Demy nods, tilting down to bump his jaw against my forehead. "I'm proud of you."

This definitely shouldn't have made me feel as giddy as it did.

"For... staying alive, or for my impeccable aim?" I ask, knowing that he's being serious but again -not feeling shame comes hard. I'm still learning after all.

He seems to blank at this. "Your what?"

Having one of our ping pong balls in hand, I raise it up and turn back to face Triton and Sebastian again. Throwing it as hard as I can, I hear a very crisp 'twap' as the ball connects dead center to that dumbass Monikol-Rae's forehead.

"My that!" I answer cheerily, giving him a shit-eating grin as Seb immediately turns to me and starts to cuss me out. "Oh, ten points to me for bashing Bash right at bullseye."

Other than—gag—babe, Bash is what Triton normally calls his boyfriend. I stick to Seb.

In less time than it takes for me to notice what really happened, Demy goes from looking perfectly fine to fully upset. "Outside." He says and then he's stumbling away, trembling by the looks of him.

"Demetrius?" I question, sharing a look with Riggs -who goes to meet his best friend.

"Dude, take a breath." He instructs, hands raised defensively. "Zeno?"

"No. No, I can't." Hands raising in the air, Demy clearly takes out his hearing aids and then books it.

Riggs, without questioning it at all, runs over and picks up the aids, inspecting them for damage -letting out a sigh of relief. "They're good."

"His new ones?"

"Yeah."

Stumbling, both me and Riggs go to follow him, but it's my house so I can track him better in it and end up skidding to a stop in the middle of my kitchen. Demetrius is standing there, hands out, crying as he faces my mom.

"It's okay! You're safe." I sign. "You're safe."

Overwhelmed, Demy squeezes his eyes closed but hunches down as I get close to him, he leans in but stubbornly refuses to touch me despite both of us knowing that it's his love language.

It would help.

I don't know what to do, but a look at my mom and having her motion me forward, and I immediately make a split second decision and grab him into a hug; wrapping him up as much as I can, cradling his body into mine.

"Is he going to be okay?" Mom asks, grey eyes looking up over uncertainty.

Feeling how he still hadn't changed to hug me back, hands shaking on either side of me, I grab his hands gently and pull them around me, tight, almost squeezing. I shrug, face mushed over his shoulder. "Can you get Culpa?"

Demy loves cats, and physical attention and cats have healing energy, so that would be a win-win. Thankfully, my mom agrees and by the time she gets back, I've slowly walked us back to sit on the couch, Demy sitting down, arms around me -tight.

"'Mere, Cully." I call him, patting the spot next to the couch where the grey cat immediately curls up against Demy's thigh. "Thanks, mom."

"I'm heading out, to... I got nothing, I just don't want to invade."

Smiling up at her, I send a thumbs up before running my hand back through my maybe-boyfriend's brown curls. Next, I pick up one of Demy's hands from my hip and slowly trace his finger over my hand -which is signing "I love you" up at him.

He nods, just a small movement, but it's enough to make me smile. He trails his hand down to my wrist, to raise it to the back of his neck, placing his forehead against my collarbone. Cupping the back of his neck, I try to offer him protection in the best way I can.

Demy, in a voice so quiet and broken that I almost can't hear, says, "Sorry."

I make the same motion against his chest, saying, "I'm sorry." in a way I hope he understands.

From the looks Riggs had given me, I'm pretty sure it's something that I did that triggered him, and while I'm not fully casting blame on myself I do know it's something that I have to be much more mindful of in the future.

From the corner of my eye, I can see Riggs come into the room and give him a small wave. "Sup? Your bestie is calming down."

"I can tell." He says, coming over to sit on the other side of the couch. "S'not your fault, Sir Eret, what he got triggered by, I mean. Dude's big, you got no idea the amount of trauma he got packed in there."

"Quite a lot, I've gathered, Madam Rigby." I respond, not hyper or happy -not anything he's used to. "Was it me throwing something?"

"What? Nah, it was the threats," Riggs shrugs. Even he looks upset. "There used to be a time when people followed through with them, must've just got too much for him. Fosters were most of 'em." He sighs, running a hand over his face. "Uh, I got permission to share this with you, by the way. Not just pulling it outta my ass for the opportunity of it."

"Good." I wave a finger at him, twirling the other hand with a curl. "Never share anything without permission." Pausing, I look at Riggs levelly. "I actually care, I just... it's a lot. I think that stuff is fun but I, I, I'm a lot, sometimes. But I won't do it anymore. Even with Seb. Demy's what's important here."

"I didn't say that so you'd stop doing it. That you should probably talk to Zenny boy about, with things like that, it's not a problem until it is. Hell, I might be wrong." He winces then looks away. "He probably got anxious 'cause I was anxious, which happens more than he'd like to admit—my boy's empathetic as shit even if he can't understand people for the life of him."

I stare at Riggs, trying to encapsulate the way that my older brother Cas or older sister Selene stares at people: like a dog in a cage.

"I don't care if you're wrong. I'm not going to do it again."

Brown eyes widen a bit, but leave it to Riggs to never mention anything about how (hopefully) determined I look.

Or as some would say, scary.

"Up to you, but he'll notice when the dynamic changes," He points his chin out to Demy. "I would still talk to him, but you do you, Scary Short Human. Wait. Can you ask him if he wants these? He usually likes not being able to hear when he panics, but afterwards Deaf Bastard isn't a title he'd appreciate."

"I'll talk to him, but it won't change how careful I am." I explain, reaching over to take the aids from him. "Of course. Thanks Rigby."

Raising his hands—now calmed down, and ready to communicate—Demy signs, "Sorry. Didn't mean to be an asshole. Got overwhelmed."

Both me and Riggs make a near identical face at this, but I'm the first one to shake my head and catch his attention.

"Not asshole. Be nice to yourself." I correct, tilting my head down at him. "Do you want these, or do you want to wait? Both are okay."

Soften your blows, I have to remind myself, trying to look less like a snarling dog and a bit more like Adonis: soft. He's not someone you bark at.

"I forgot to do drugs." Demy tells me -looking confused. I'm actually really, really thankful that he's okay. "Hearing A-I-D-S, please."

I hand them over wordlessly. "I'm kicking out S and T-J for the night, it'll just be us 3 like it was supposed to be. You can take it easy."

Putting his hearing aids back in, Demy frowns the whole time -seeming to not get the concept I'm going for, instead, blaming himself. "Did they do something wrong? Did I freak them out? It wasn't on purpose."

"No you didn't. Not at all." I shake my head, leaning into his touch. "I just want to give you a chill night, and they're not chill people. One anxiety attack is enough."

I know that I'm soft.

I know that I'm peppy and bounce when I walk, and that people associate me with my mom because we're both kind. We both think about others, and call people sweet names when we talk.

But when someone else around me needs me to help them, or when they get hurt? I don't get strict like my mom, and enforce change. No, I get rough like my papa. I get spiteful and hard-edged and mean. I get vindictive and protective, and possessive at best.

Now, over Demy, I'm no different.

Demy looks over to Riggs—who's staring down Culpa, who I know damn well is going to win that staring contest—and nodding, turning back to me, moving forward to rest our eyebrows together. "Sorry. Overwhelmed. One is enough, won't happen again-"

"Even if it does," I hold his hands to my face, trying to make him realize how certain of this I am. "That's okay. Shit happens, but we'll all be okay after. You don't have to apologize for it. You never have to apologize for it."

"Okay," He accepts this surprisingly easily. "I appreciate you."

"I appreciate you too, Demy." I mush our cheeks together. "So does Riggs. And Culpa."

He tilts his head, squinting his brown-gold eye up at me cutely. "Culpa?"

I grin at him and pull away to be able to look down properly at the grey cat -who turns away from the defeated Riggs to blink up at me slowly with wide orange eyes. "Who'd you think you were petting, Demy?"

"Unknown," Shrugging, Demy reaches down to scratch him behind the years, making the grumpy feline start to purr again. "Mr. Cat."

"He's over thirty years old." I tell him, watching as Culpa starts to glare at me for the age reveal. "He's an old, old man, who is defying the laws of nature. Just as I would like to do one day. 130 years old and still kickin' it."

"Oh..." Demy mumbles, petting Culpa gently. "Beautiful old man. Your mom's?"

I grin, confused. "How did you know?"

"Vibes." Pausing, he carries on with a wince. "Oh, your mother."

"Bad time to make a 'your mama' joke, Zenny boy." Riggs calls from across the room, where he's been examining the mangoes we have in the bowl.

Bringing up a hand, Demy covers his eyes out of what appears to be embarrassment. "She saw me cry. Fuck."

"Why is that a bad thing?" I tilt my head and look between him and his best friend. "Crying makes you strong."

"We know that." Riggs says, and I don't miss that his I changed to we. "Lots of people don't, especially mothers."

"Kicked out a lot," Slumping down into the couch as he speaks, Demy buries his face against my curls. "Didn't like... me. Couldn't hear. Crying can be loud. Didn't know."

"Oh, Mom's not like that at all." I shrug, holding onto the back of his neck.

People have not been good to him. I will prove that people are good anyway, because I am people, and I am good.

"One of the first things they taught us, especially my brothers, is that it's okay to cry. Some of them, especially Cas and Atlas, don't, but that's just 'cause they're more like her than they admit. Mom doesn't cry. Dad, however, is a perfect example. She just left to give you privacy, not 'cause she was upset by it. But don't be surprised later if she's like, super nice to you or offers you a bunch of sweets."

"Don't worry, Sir Eret," Riggs tells me. "Zenny knows that your parents are good. He just thinks they'll hate him."

My nose wrinkles at him. "But they love him?"

"So do mine but he's been terrified of them for like, five years now." His best friend seems to snort, equal parts amused and frustrated. "Parents... never really liked him. In the system, I mean. A lot of them were dicks. They pushed him away 'cause they didn't want to try to learn how to handle his ADHD riddled ass that couldn't hear to save his life."

"That sucks." I reply bluntly. "My parents had eight fucking kids who all have ADHD, mental illness, an infinity for getting hurt, several disabilities and I'm pretty sure we were all jackass pre-teens. Demetrius is like a Saint compared to us."

"Oh, same!" Riggs snickers, shaking his head. "All my brothers were little assholes. God, and the fights I would get into? Horrible. Then there'd be my Zenny boy, pack of bandages in hand and a polite sorry ma'am for my mom anytime he'd come over. Endearing prick, she thinks he's an angel at this point, I swear."

Then, perfectly on cue, Demy flips him off.

"No, for real." I scoff. "From everything my parents know about him, my mom was even like 'can we adopt him, please Rissy? Then I'd have one calm child' and I had to tell her that not only was he eighteen, but he already had you."

"Yeah, all the time, since we met and a little bit before that, when I had a crush on you. They absolutely-"

"What?" Demy cuts me off, wide eyed. "No. What?"

"Yeah." I nod. "The only one of my sibling's partners that they've warmed up to like this was Jasper, my older brother Cas' husband. But that was only because Cassie is so standoffish, that when he started to date someone and actually talked about him, we all knew he was the one. Oh, and Grace and Seb, but that's just because they were family friends before my brothers started dating them. Losers."

"Oh." Gulping, I can tell that Demy's blushing when he says this. "I—uh. I meant liking me. You. Before. Grateful your parents are... okay with me."

"Well yeah, if they didn't like you so much, there's no way they'd trust you alone with me, or let me walk alone with you to a park. That says a lot about them, they're both worriers." I tilt my head at him. "Why'd you think I paid so much attention to you and knew your name? Just 'cause you're attractive, or because you're tall?"

Demetrius doesn't actually say anything in reply, just turns bright red and tries to hide his face under large hands.

Being his best friend, Riggs laughs at his reaction. "You're buffing his unused ego, Eret, like grease on a muddy shoe."

"He needs to accept that he's cool and shit somehow, and if that's through me calling him hot and my parents thinking he's adorable," I shrug, pressing my cold fingers to his now burning cheeks and continuing with a snicker, "So be it."

"Hear that, Zennoy boy? You're cool."

"Like ice," Demy deadpans. "This feels embarrassing."

Me and Riggs can see when my papa comes into the room, but unfortunately Zeno can't, so when he stops, frowning and says "Do you need ice, Son?" it makes Demy jerk against me.

"No, no sir." He responds stiffly, wide-eyed and on edge. I question if not noting Papa's presence was the right choice. "Sorry, Mr. Rex."

"It's whatever," Papa says, moving on past them to ruffle through the fridge as he calls back, "Just making sure you're okay."

"We're all good now!" I shout. "It's gonna be a movie night!"

"Those shitty horror movies?"

"Mom likes them!"

He, knowing that means yes, just takes to grumbling and walks through the living room with a strawberry carton in hand, texting blindly with the other. "Fuckin' morons, I'm going to kill your uncles, I swear to God..."

"Only Uncle Keagan, okay? Bye Papa, love you!"

"Bye kiddo, love you too, take care of those two, alright?" I nod, and he rolls his eyes at my thumb up -fully expecting me to faux bully anyone in sight. "If they want any snacks that aren't in the house, text me or mom, we're planning a trip later and can grab 'em."

"Okie doke!" Saying this, I turn back to the two best friends, but more specifically Riggs, who is raising his eyebrows at me. "What?"

"You're a middle aged man obsessed with strawberries." Says Riggs at the same time that Demy notes, "Your mom's scarier, he's nice."

"Mom's nicer." I reply easily, leaning back into the couch. "Papa has his moments though. All his anger's probably focused on Uncle Jem right now, I'm guessing. But I aspire to be a middle aged man obsessed with strawberries, so thanks Madam Rigby, thanks."

Saying this in the utmost aggravating way that I could, in the way that gets Triton to start glaring before I finish the sentence, I can see Riggs' eyes narrow, jaw clenching.

Now might now be the best time, but I got permission to be mutually destructive, so now it's time to test the waters.

"I know what you're doing." Riggs taunts. "It won't work."

"Oh yeah?" I wiggle my eyebrows back. "Wanna bet?"

"Movie time!" Demy cheers, raising a fist in the air. "Whoo! Let's go watch something funny."

I nod, taking his hand in mine and standing with a grin, now ignoring all of Riggs' presence. "How do you feel about zombies?"

"Like Riggs will be safe around 'em." He'd die though, for sure.

"That's it!" His best friend says, standing with a fake glare. "I'm sacrificing you first in the apocalypse."

I raise my hand. "Could I go first? I feel like I'd be terrible in the apocalypse, purple attracts so much attention, y'know?"

"No," He shakes his head. "You're last as punishment. I get to go after my main man, of course. Can't live without him."

"That's fair, the order makes sense, but if I die because Riggs eats me, I will be pissed. Anywho," I skip and skid on the hard wood to land right in front of the stairway. "That means you'll probably like Zombieland, it's hilarious."

Riggs gives me a look. "What's it about?"

"Twinkies."

"...twinks?" He questions, voice an octave higher and I find that absolutely hilarious. "What kinda shit are you watching, dude? I mean, good for them—"

"Twink-ies," I emphasize. "The shitty pastry thing."

They look at one another with a shrug, Riggs continues with, "Not a clue, Eret. I think you're just insane."

And Demy adds on, "Gay people aren't food."

"I beg to differ." Riggs says, a smirk lining his lips. "I'm delicious."

I literally could give less than a fuck what someone identifies as, so I brush over this completely. Snorting, loud and offensively, I give him a once over. "Keep dreaming, Rigby. Keep dreaming. For now," I throw open the stair door. "Come down to my abode."

"If I didn't know how absolutely hung Zenny was," Riggs saying this immediately makes me sputter, but Demy himself just frowns, confused. "I'd be questioning your taste in men."

"God damn." I cough, desperately trying not to go red. To cover, I jump down onto the first step and motion them down. "C'mon, zombie time."

"What's it mean?" Demetrius asks all while his best friend is cackling, trailing behind us on the stairs. "Sorry. Bad?"

"Not bad, just surprised you don't know." I say, turning back and walking sideways down the rest of the stairs. It's a miracle I haven't died yet. "He basically said you have a big dick, so it doesn't matter what my type is."

Is it bad that I'm as blunt as I am?

Definitely.

"Oh. Oh." He flushes more. "Zombie time. Yes?"

I chuckle a little and nod. "Yeah, I didn't know what to do with the information either. Zombie time!"

Riggs cheers the same thing, smugness still clear in his tone and I quickly set up the movie, moving a lot of blankets and pillows from the bed section of my room over to the couches.

Today, despite all, can still be a good day. That, I think as I look over to Demetrius, is something I'm determined to give him.

More good days, I mean.