What with the wonders of modern medical advancements, his wrist was determined broken (in two places, no less) and Eddy's wonderful mother had it in a lime green cast by the end of the hour. The color choice was more Eddy's influence than his own - something about eye color and it being closer than the next sky blue option - but it was of no consequence to him. A cast was only designed to hold the bones still and steady while mending, and it would have served it's purpose just as well in florescent pink.

For her part, Eddy's mother performed her duties silently and efficiently, only speaking once to determine which color he wanted for the wrapping material. Her mouth was held in a firm line. His fingers twitched, so he fisted his hand and shoved it in his pocket.

Doubtlessly, he had proven himself more trouble than he was worth. It was a small enough token to allow him to share in their nightly meals, to sleep on the otherwise unused side of Eddy's King-sized bed. He could even tell himself that his best friend's grades had improved with the convenient tutor (not that Eddy would let him teach for long - ten minutes and they were playing another video game or watching another movie).

Intruding upon her work hours, bearing a broken wrist from their trouble making, would be any parent's red flag. When teenagers acted unthinkingly, they got themselves hurt. Sometimes others as well. He swallowed hard with the thankfulness that it hadn't been Eddy who fell playing on skateboards.

Beside him, Eddy was practically twitching. "You've got to let me draw something on your cast, Double-D. It'll be a masterpiece! And we can have the whole cul-de-sac sign it, too - but not on this side. This side is all mine."

"Nothing vulgar, if you'll please, Eddy. I don't think our teachers will appreciate it..."

Mrs. Sullivan came and sat down beside him on the raised examination table, green wrapping partially unrolled in her hands. She set it aside and focused on him. "Are you still in any pain?"

He shook his head no. (It still twinged a bit, but he wasn't about to cause any more fuss.)

Her professional expression melted away, and she laid a hand lightly atop his cast. "Eddward, dear... What happened?"

Eddward blushed and looked down. He would have fidgeted with his fingers, but he couldn't get his limbs to move. It was so stupid..."Kevin - ah, a classmate who also lives in the cul-de-sac - he left his skateboard out on his front lawn. We were just... I wasn't thinking. I apologize for putting you at an inconvenience."

"It isn't any trouble at all," she said softly. Eddy's knee leaned a bit, tapping against his dangling foot. He didn't look up. "It's my job. I'm just sorry you were hurt. You're a sweet kid."

Turning a deeper red, Eddward tapped Eddy's knee back, mouth pulling into a small smile. "Thank you, Mrs. Sullivan."

"We tried calling you," Eddy added helpfully. "Like, five times. You didn't answer - obviously."

Eddy's mother sighed, hand going to her pocket subconsciously. He could just make out the bulge of something small and rectangular. Her guilt was apparent. "Sorry, dear. The boss was being rather-"

"So, can we have some money for the arcade, then? They just got this new shooting game. It's got killer Playboy Bunnies!"

"I'm afraid not." She turned from Eddy to pat Eddward on top of his hat-covered head, sighing exasperatedly. "That anesthesia is going to kick-in in about twenty minutes, Hun. You're not going to want to do much of anything but sleep. Have you called your parents yet?"

What would be the point? They wouldn't answer, anyway.

"Um, I-"

Eddy interrupted with a look that screamed, why would we do that? "We called you, didn't we? I didn't think his parents would know how to fix his arm."

Mrs. Sullivan stood from the table and picked up the abandoned clipboard. She seemed to steel herself at the door, straightening and taking in a big breath. "Alright, then. Informing the parents.Fun. You boys sit tight... Eddy, don't touch that."

His mother left and Eddy shot Eddward a sheepish grin, setting the green roll back onto the counter. Instead, he hopped up next to the shorter boy. Eddward leaned into the warmth - they had to remove his jacket in order to get to his arm, and the office was cold and clinical despite the inspiration posters of kittens and whales. Eddy allowed the silence to hang comfortably for a few moments - a few moments longer than he had assumed the boy would, at least - before heaving out a gigantic sigh.

"Your folks aren't gonna' be like... pissed or anything, are they?" Eddy bumped his shoulder. He wasn't as annoyed as he should have been. "Mom's gonna' yell at me, I know. Being immature and all that... Sorry you got hurt, dude."

"Oh, it's- it's not your fault, Eddy." For reasons he couldn't explain, he could feel his face heat up, and leaned away from the taller male before he too could feel how heavy his heart was pounding. It hadn't been Eddy's fault, for once. There had been words, of course. Taunts... Eddward had allowed himself to fall for Eddy's bait, though. He wasn't athletic and he didn't have any sense of balance to speak of. What possessed him to think he could get on a skateboard without causing a calamity? "The blame lies with myself. I suppose I just..." It was lonely, sometimes. Being the geek. No one bothered to inquire anymore, whether he wished to join in. For a few moments on top of that precarious wooden deathtrap, he hadn't felt so alone. Eddy was laughing - with him, not at him. That sense of belonging had been warm, and when he had fallen, the loss of that hurt worse than the broken arm. He shook his head. "I had a temporary loss in judgement. I appreciate your accompanying me to the doctors, though. You didn't have to... I could have walked by myself..."

As expected, Eddy rolled his eyes. The boy leaned over and plucked his discarded jacket off the chair and tossed it at him. It didn't land softly. Eddy obviously wasn't wary of hurting him further. "Whatever, Sock-head. Don't talk like I carried you here or anything."

(Even if he practically had. Eddy was a religious toter of Manly Pride and wouldn't admit to care or concern if his allowance depended on it.) Manly Pride didn't stop Eddy from helping him into his coat, however. He couldn't fit the cast through the skinny arm-holes of course, but having the jacket draped across his shoulders like a cape helped dispel the chill. And there was a chill - he hadn't been in many medical offices, but those he had contained a certain frost at odds with the lukewarm and magazine-encrusted waiting rooms. There was a good reason for the term "cold and clinical."

And now he was being melodramatic.

"Yes, Eddy," he acquiesced.

The other boy puffed up a bit, leaning back on arms much thicker than his own. Eddy eyed his cast again. "Bet they'll let you take Monday off, what with the arm and all..." A small cough to start his spiel that Eddward had heard a thousand ways in one form or another. "I don't have a test or anything that I have to be there for. We should totally skip and go to the arcade. Tell me you think it's an awesome plan."

For Eddy, it actually was, if only because it didn't involve conning younger children out of their pocket money. Yet, at least. He wiped at the bridge of his nose with his good hand. "Skipping is a horrible idea. Your education is an important thing - how do you suspect you will get into a good college if you show abysmal attendance rates?"

"People actually pay attention to that?" He actually looked amazed by that fact, and Eddward both wanted to strangle him and lock him in a small bright room. How did the boy possibly expect to get through life? It didn't seem to faze Eddy for long. "College is for schmucks. I'm gonna' be the president or something. Maybe run one of those big companies with the tall buildings and have my own personal maid. No, make that five maids; one for each of my five super-awesome mansions."

"Your mind must by a fantastic place, Eddy," he intoned dryly. "The vast majority of all CEO's have at least a Bachelor's degree in business. That is four years of college," he added when the wordBachelor brought a leer to his friend's face. "Not to say that you couldn't hold such a reputable position, but do try to keep your aspirations within the bounds of plausibility, please. President?Really."

Eddy kicked his legs about, tilting his chin towards the ceiling. Wayward strands of brown hair flopped back towards his shoulders. "Well, shit. Can't I just like... take a summer course or something?" He sighed and tilted his head to the side, so that half-lidded brown eyes peeked through his bangs at him. Eddy could be so sweet sometimes when he wasn't trying to trick him. "Fine, fine. But we're going when I get off, got it? You never do anything fun."

Sweet, definitely. He told the other boy he thought so, and Eddy's face soured, as predicted. "Don't get the wrong idea. I just wanna' play the Playboy game. Shit, you can go read in a ditch for all I care."

It was at this time that the office door opened, Eddy's mother entering looking equal parts annoyed and distracted. The look passed as soon as it appeared, but he had a pretty good feeling as to what brought it on.

"Sorry, Hun," she tossed their way, stopping at the counter to deposit the now empty clipboard in a plastic slot that looked designed to hold the office supply. "But we couldn't get a hold of your parents. They're probably just at work, but I don't feel comfortable leaving you here to wait for them. My shift just ended, so would you like to come home with us until your parents get off from work?"

He didn't think it wise to remind her that he had practically been a fixture in their home for the last week. If things continued as they had been, he'd be tucked up next to Eddy on the couch within the next hour, dozing off to whatever kung-fu film the taller boy decided was badass at the time. "Yes, please. With the latest transfer..." they stopped coming home, stopped talking to me, stopped providing food, shelter, love. "The number on file is probably just outdated. I will be sure to make sure the hospital gets the corrected information."

She nodded distractedly, shedding her gloves into a specially designed receptacle and unbuttoning the lab coat. It was hung on a small orange hook on the wall behind the door, where he presumed a sterilization technician would come around to take it off to be cleaned. "Alright, just let me... Eddy, for the last time, please leave the tape alone."

Eddy grinned cheekily as he pulled the neon tape back out from his pocket. Why he felt the need to rile his mother so, Eddward had no idea. If his mother were present, he'd be on his very best behavior (so that hopefully she wouldn't be disgusted enough with him to leave again, some masochistic thought added. He forcefully pushed the thought back). "But it's just so..."

"Green?"

"Can't I just cover my door with it or something?"

For a moment, he thought she might actually agree, before she laughed and plucked the tape from her son's fingers lightly. "As groovy as I'm sure that would look, this is officially hospital property. Like the stethoscope and the water dispenser you decided you had to have last time you were here." Wisely, Eddward decided it wasn't worth the hassle to ask. Mrs. Sullivan tucked the tape away in a low cupboard, atop a few rolls of gauze, and clapped her hands together lightly. "Okay! So, let's get you out of here, okay?"

As it turned out, the drugs indeed did kick in fairly quickly, and even on the car ride back to Eddy's it was a struggle to maintain an alert front. Thankfully, Eddy was distracted by mundane conversation with his mother, so he didn't have to grunt his way through anything more than the occasional yes or no. Cognitive thought, it would seem, didn't care to stick around when the entirety of your body was floating in a drugged softness akin to jello. Goodbye, reasoning.

They arrived home sometime between blinks. Mrs. Sullivan shuffled them into the house and onto the couch with strict instructions for him to do absolutely nothing but relax and, if the remote thrust in his face was any indication, methodically slaughter his few remaining brain cells. He fumbled with the channel up and down buttons until some sort of documentary came on. The narrator had a soothing British accent. For once, Eddy didn't complain about his choice in entertainment and settled in on his good side, arm thrown up and over the couch back as though afraid of even touching him. It's just shock, some still functioning part of his brain supplied. He'll go back to normal once he assuages his guilt.

Not that it had been Eddy's fault. He couldn't remember properly, but he thought he already had this talk with the taller boy. Maybe. Possibly...

Somehow the show had jumped several geographical regions without him realizing it. On screen was stock footage of a heard of zebra drinking from a river. He tried to recall the name of the river based off of the creatures' known habitats, but came up blank. The narrator started droning on in his softly lilting voice about South Africa and the wild beasts that occupied it's landscapes andwhat was he trying to remember again? It was comfortable and dark and quiet in here. It couldn't have been important.

He shrugged off the thought and, when Eddy looked down at him, realized that he had literally shrugged for a metaphorical idea. That amused him, so he started chuckling as his friend stared down at him like he had lost it.

Technically, you have. You are so drugged up right now... Stop laughing... Stop being a freak...

Eventually - he couldn't say when - he was finally able to calm down and open his eyes again (when had they even closed?). It occured to him, then, that there was no way local anesthesia was the reason for his out-there reactions. He flicked his tongue out a few times to wet his lips (his mouth was really dry all of a sudden) and drudged up enough energy to tilt his head enough to stare at Eddy. "Eddy... What did... What did your mother give me?"

A large hand came down from somewhere above him and a weight was lifted from his head. My hat... The hand then began to gently weave through the revealed strands, carefully sorting out the tangles that came from being stuffed under a cotton beanie. It was relaxing and only marginally invasive and it wasn't as if he hasn't already seen it, so he finally let his eyes shut and allowed the motion to continue.

"That's the single most adorable thing I have ever seen, ever."

Eddy snorted, looking up from his best friend to his mother, still brushing the soft hair back. Double-D was obviously doped up on something, and it had only taken a few minutes of petting before the semi-conscious boy could be convinced to actually lie down instead of the awkward half-lean he had positioned himself in. The new position had the smaller teen practically splayed across his lap, but it also stopped the crick forming in his neck from holding his arm up for so long. "I'm glad you thought I was such an ugly baby."

His mother laughed, setting the opaque yellow shopping bags on the kitchen counter, Eddy having to turn slightly to follow her with his eyes to the next room. "You're still my baby, Sweetheart." Cue sickeningly sweet blown kisses. Yuck. He'd walked into that one. She threw a hand on her hip. "It's just nice to see you've got a soft spot."

Understandably, he balked at the idea. He was not soft, especially not for such a total loser. "I don't have soft spots."

"Of course. Mr. Hard-Ass, how could I forget." The cheerful sarcasm was tangible. She didn't even pause in putting away the groceries to debunk his claim. "I just mean... I'm glad you're such a great friend. A mother worries, after all. You used to be a little pain in the ass, you know. Loved you, love you, but still. Pain in the ass."

"Yeah, whatever."

She finished up with the groceries and, after shoving the empty bags into a plastic container under the sink, came to stand behind the couch, leaning over him and Double-D. He could see the way her eyes tracked over the cast, then clothes. (Sock-head had been too wiped-out to bother changing into a pair of Eddy's sweats as he had been doing this last week, despite the size differences, and had all but passed out in his dorky sweater-vest and button-down shirt.) Finally her eyes came to rest on Double-D's exposed head. She reached down and ruffled her fingers through his hair.

"Soft. Why does he keep it covered up all the time?"

He shrugged before brushing back the long wispy bangs, revealing the sleeping boy's forehead. An old scar was just barely noticeable along one side, leading up and disappearing into the hairline. "Me and Ed saw this one time. He kinda wigged-out on us so we joked around - called it gross and stuff. He's totally the type to freak out about things like that. That or the color. Who knows?"

His mother rolled her eyes and sat lightly on the arm of the couch nearest to him. "Boys and their scars. Still, if he's got a complex about it, it's best not to tease him." They sat in silence for a moment - him absently tracing the scar with the tip of his finger, her watching them.

Finally, Eddy broke the calm. "What did you give him?"

Mrs. Sullivan just laughed.