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He opened the door seconds after I knocked. I stood there, breathless and determined, my eyes shining with a slight smile on my face. To say he was surprised to see me was an understatement. I pushed him into the door, not letting him say a word as I placed my lips on his, giving him probably the best kiss I'd ever given someone (even if that was only limited to him being the second person I've ever kissed before). He didn't seem all that surprised after I broke apart and grinned at him. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I'm an idiot and I'm stupid but I really like you and I promise that I can handle it," I rushed out, shaking my head and hoping I didn't look nuts.

Someone cleared their throat behind me. I finally looked up and noticed rest of his family sitting at the couch with similar eyes. I offered a weak smile and wave, and they all seemed amused. Rydel especially. "Uh," Riker said. "Maybe we should take this upstairs."

I nodded gratefully, feeling my face brighten red as he pulled me up the stairs into his room. We closed the door and I stood awkwardly until he pulled me over to him. "I'm sorry," I repeated. "I don't care about anything I said before. I like you. I like you a lot and that's not going to change. Forget everything I said. I'm in it for however long you want me to be."

He didn't move for a long time, it felt like. I smiled awkwardly as he grinned and I put my arms around his waist. "You're you and you can't help that," I told him. "But what I can help is that you don't go through it alone. You said to me that I wouldn't be the first to leave. I'm not leaving. I promise."

He kissed me, long and hard as we tripped and fell onto the bed. Our breath came in random spurts through the kisses, and I couldn't stop giggling all the sudden. We didn't get to have that long make out session that most would think because his chest was heaving after a minute or two. I'd like to think it was me that made him have to use the inhaler.

He took a few puffs out of it and then started to laugh. "You're out of your mind. I like you," he huffed.

I grinned. "You wouldn't be the first to say it."

He nodded.

I paused, looking at all the treatment things in his room and then decided. "You have me. I want to know everything. You said all I had to do was ask. So… tell me everything and anything. I'm all yours."

"What about if I show you my physio?" he suggested.

I was quite surprised by what he said, if I was honest. After the whole thing he'd said before, I would have thought he'd be cautious still. He called Rydel into the room and I grew interested to how it would work. I watched as Rydel pulled out the machine from under his bed and he flipped over onto his stomach. He lied down and put the mask on, breathing while he watched me. Rydel seemed to be preparing herself, it was clear when it came to her brother, she didn't let anything get in her way. He pulled the mask off after a few more minutes, grabbed a box of tissues and looked at me. "This isn't pretty, so be warned," he said softly, and I nodded, backing away a bit to give Rydel some room.

He closed his eyes as she got on his side and began to hit him on the back, much harder than I would have imagined. He opened one eye, probably to gauge my reaction. I was trying to remain as calm as possible to prove I could handle it.

He gasped suddenly. And then began to cough worse than I had ever heard me my life before. Rydel didn't seem fazed by it as he coughed into the tissues, and despite his best attempts to hide it, thick, dark mucus appeared. He was gagging at this point and gasping for breath. This went on for several minutes as she continued to pound him on the back. She stopped after about five minutes and whispered just loud enough for me to hear, "Do you want me to keep going?"

He looked to be in so much pain. I felt my knees shaking, despite my best attempts to hide it. "No, I think I'm good," he said softly. "Thank you."

She rubbed his back for a moment and then squeezed his shoulder, helping him stand. He was dizzy too, that much was clear and he darted past me into the bathroom, where I heard more gagging through the walls. My face must have said it all. "It's not as bad as it looks, I swear. And it helps him, so that's what matters most."

"It looks brutal," I admitted. "Isn't there other ways?"

She nodded. "There are vests these days which help tremendously, but my father doesn't think they help that much. He's stubborn. I think he's scared, honestly."

"I imagine it's hard for your parents," I added.

She gave me a sad smile. "They worry constantly. But he's exceeded every expectation that's been given to him over the years. When he was born, his life expectancy according to the average would be about this. Now it's in it's thirties."

My vision blurred. "I'm trying to process this without getting emotional. How do you do it?"

"He's my brother. I'm younger. As far as I'm concerned, this has always been normal to me. It doesn't seem that way, but it is. He's my brother and I'd do anything to make sure he gets to live way past his expectancy," she whispered quietly. Her head darted to the door. "He's been gone a while. I should check on him…"

"Don't worry about that," I told her. "I should go see. He wanted to show me, anyway."

"He trusts you," she admitted as we walked toward the door. "He told me what happened earlier. I told him you'd be back before the night was over."

"I don't know if I like that you all think I'm this super human," I mumbled.

She laughed. "No one said you're a super human, Remy. But you're handling it better than anyone else ever has. That shows right there that you're special."

She darted away, giving me once last smile and I knocked on his bathroom door. I felt like this was a scene that I'd already seen as he gagged into the toilet bowl. I noticed a cup on the sink and filled it with water, waiting until he was done to hand it over to him. He sank onto the seat in exhaustion, eyeing me from behind the cup. "That is just the start of it," he admitted when the silence started. "Usually, I do it for longer than that, but I had done it when I got home. I guess it's probably a good thing that I did it again, because it was still pretty sticky."

"Do you always get sick after?"

He shook his head. His face flushed slightly. "Call it nerves. I'm usually much calmer when I do it. But it does happen if it's particularly bad. Rydel holds a pretty firm head when she does it, but even she shrieked in the hospital a few weeks ago when I just missed her shoes after a particularly brutal session." He grinned. "She thinks I did it on purpose."

I grinned too. "It wouldn't surprise me."

"Oh, you have no idea. I used to try when I was younger to gross her out in any way possible. It takes a lot to make her go running, believe me." I didn't doubt that. "So… this happens every morning and evening?"

He nodded. "Yeah, every morning, along with a nebulizer and all those medications."

I felt full of questions and couldn't help but keep asking them. "Does it honestly make you feel better?"

"A ton better. It's not fun when you're coughing because you can't breathe. It's worse when it happens at school because then, I have to do it on myself. It's not anywhere as effective. The old nurse at my old school used to know how to do it, something about how her cousin had it when she was young… but she retired and it became a chore. Most adults don't even know how to look at you, forget people our age. It was ridiculous."

"Does it happen often at school?"

He flushed again, closing his eyes. "I couldn't breathe at all one day, right before we decided to move out here. It was the day I entered the hospital. I went to the nurse to get away from the class, because the coughing had gotten so bad. But it didn't get any better and no matter how hard I hit my side, I felt like it was going to kill me. The nurse sort of panicked, and I honestly thought I was going to die for a second. It's never been that bad before, and the doctors said that night my oxygen levels were so low that they had been surprised I even made it up that morning," he admitted. "I mean, I knew I felt sick that morning, but I can hide it well usually."

I felt my stomach churn. "Oh…"

"Yeah," he continued. "So, now they check me every morning for any signs that I might be sick and hiding it."

I toyed around with an idea, wondering if I was overstepping my boundaries with what I was about to say. "Riker, can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Maybe, so that you know, if it ever… happened again, you could show me how to do your therapy? I mean, we're in all the same classes at school. I could help," I offered weakly.

He smiled warmly at me, but shook his head. "I don't want you to feel like you need to take care of me like that. Please respect that."

I nodded. I had a feeling that he might say that, and it was fine. Rydel did go to the same school, so maybe she could help if it need be. "Okay. So. I know I sort of ruined our movie earlier, but maybe we could find one to watch here."

We spent the night cuddling on the couch.

The first time I ever felt completely helpless and terrified happened only two weeks later. We were sitting in history, watching a movie when he seemed to start coughing out of no where. It startled the class, making several people jump up, and I immediately felt all eyes go to Riker. I knew the teacher knew what he had, but no one else did, so people began to move their desks and things, throwing remarks under their breath so that only he could hear it, and anyone around him, but not the teacher. I glared at anyone I could, but it did nothing to help the situation. I dug around in his backpack, looking for an inhaler, or something to help him, but I couldn't find a thing.

Ignoring everyone's stares, I crouched at his side and asked him if there was anything I could do. His shake of his head was barely noticeable, but I decided his answer wasn't enough. I grabbed his arm, excusing ourselves and led him to the bathroom where he wasn't the show of the class. I forced him into one of the stalls in case someone came in then and rubbed his back while he gasped and coughed. I felt completely useless because I heard his voice in my head from that night, saying how he thought he was going to die.

"Riker, where are your inhalers?" I asked.

He motioned to something, but I needed words. He gasped out at the nurse, and I promised I'd be right back.

I ran down the hallway, into the nurse, explaining what was going on. I expected a fight, but she simply handed me his medications, still in the bag, and ran back into the bathroom. His coughs sounded more desperate now, harsher and absolutely agonizing, and it made me move a little faster. I slammed open the stall, handing him the bag. He found the one he needed easily and puffed several times.

It made the coughing lighter, but it took another few minutes for it to ease into gentle wheezing. He sank to his knees. "Holy crap," he muttered.

I kneeled next to him, putting my arm back on his back. I could feel him fighting for air beneath my fingers, his chest rising quickly. "Try to breathe evenly," I said weakly.

He offered me a slight smile. "Thanks for getting me out of there," he said softly.

"You're welcome."

Riker left for the day after that class, not that I could blame him. I heard several other students making comments in my next class, and it took all I had in me not to turn around and knock some literal sense into them. I thought about his feelings though, and how he would rather it remain a secret, so my mouth remained closed.

I thought constantly of him for the rest of the day, thinking about how helpless he looked and small, not the tall, skinny, and confident boy I'd gotten to know so well over the last two weeks. He wasn't one to ask for help and it made sense that he didn't know what to do when it came to knowing someone was in his corner, other than his family.

After classes, I had work so it made my day even longer. I sat at the counter, my head in a daze, thoughts completely on the blond boy. He'd been texting me since that afternoon, promising me that he was feeling better and not to worry, but it did little to help that. The customers drove me nuts, and I bit back my tongue several times. I didn't need to get into a fight with a manager that day. But my anxiousness continued until closing.

I practically raced home, throwing my things onto my bed and back out the door. It was almost nine when I knocked, but luckily it was Rydel who answered. She eyed me with smiling eyes, rolling them when I asked where he was. She motioned upstairs, and I assumed that one of his parents was doing his nightly therapy by the sounds I heard. My disappointment was clear, but she motioned for me to follow. We walked into the kitchen, where she offered me a pint of ice cream, which I gladly accepted.

"He said you were really helpful today," she said after a mouthful of what looked like chocolate and marshmallow.

"I felt helpless," I admitted. "People are cruel. I wanted to hurt someone."

"Ignore them," she said simply. "They don't know anything. It's something that you'll get used to over time, especially if you guys stay together. It's his life, and now it's yours."

"I don't care what they think," I swore. "But it makes me want to throw something. Why are people our age so ignorant?"

"Because they don't know," she again said.

"You're having ice cream without me," a voice said. I turned to see Riker and I hoped my face didn't give away my thoughts. Dark circles were under his eyes and his skin lacked glow. He walked over to where we were standing, taking a spoon and stealing some of her ice cream. "Hey, that's mine."

"I had to give Remy mine, so I figured I'd take yours," she grinned.

I smiled as he took a seat next to me. He didn't even hide the fact that he was exhausted as his head hit the counter. "Long day?" I whispered.

He nodded. "And then the blonde next to me eats the only thing I had to look forward to," he scolded with a smirk.

She rolled her eyes. "Get over it."

"I'm the one with the high calorie diet," he added. "You're depriving me the extra fats."

Riker knew he was going to get his way, and seconds later, she handed over the pint. After that, she walked over to the other counter and then handed him a bottle. It said something about enzymes on it. "His digestive system is all messed up," she explained at my questioning glance. "If he doesn't take these with everything he eats, he'll never go to sleep tonight."

"Consider it similar to a really bad case of being lactose intolerant," he added.

"Worse than that," Rydel disagreed. "You started puking everywhere that one time you forgot them at dinner."

"Thanks for making me sound disgusting in front of Remy," he said dryly.

"Like she cares," Rydel countered.

The two shared a playful gaze and I rolled my eyes. Rydel stuck around for several more minutes before disappearing upstairs, leaving me with him and our ice cream.

"It actually is as bad as she made it sound," he added after a second. "It's gross. I'm surprised my body can function at all sometimes."

"I get gas when I eat tacos," I offered lamely.

He started to crack up. "Makes us a good pair."