Title: State Of Consciousness

Rating: T (for now, might go up)

Categories: Romance; Drama/Friendship/Angst

Warnings: Yaoi/Slash/BoyxBoy.

Summary: M/M. Slash. Johnny was twelve, not twenty. He couldn’t of been asleep that long. He didn’t understand anything anymore. Not school, or his family or…why his old middle school bully won’t stop looking at him so weird.

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Prologue – Life Alert

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September 12th, 2000

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I always have trouble staying awake in cars.

Something about the way the warm sun hits you in the face just right from the windows, the curve of the door that is perfect for placing your head on, and the rumble of the road is just…a lullaby, really.

If I’m not playing my game boy, I’m snoozing with my cheek against the seat belt. It leaves weird marks after a while, but it doesn’t matter to me.

I get carsick a lot, so that might have something to do with it.

Maybe even because my mom drives a yellow Punch Buggy, and that is the last thing I want to be in. I mean, jeez. Small yellow cars are girlie. The sleeping was probably to save me from mental trauma, or something.

My mom gets annoyed, because she has this thing about having long conversations in the car. Whenever I fall asleep (many times in the middle of her talking) she’ll give me extra chores. But oh well, it's worth it for my naps, I suppose.

But dish duty sucks.

In fact, I'm supposed to be listening to her now. But I was in the state between falling asleep and daydreaming were your mind is fuzzy and your eyes start going dark. I hear the sounds emitting from her mouth, but that’s about it. Maybe specs of words here and there, but it’s all gibberish.

I'm thinking about the homework that's due for history tomorrow.

Ugh.

I hate history.

It's seriously the worst thing ever. I’d rather die than do that boring report on – on –whatever it was. Some country. Australia? No, Austria.

Whatever.

It doesn’t matter to me. Math and English I suffer through because I see how they applied to future stuff. Science is even fun sometimes, although in one lab when the teacher dissected a frog, I sort of fainted. But other that, pretty cool. Especially when Mr. Whimer makes things blow up. That’s so awesome.

My mom was still talking. I pitied her sometimes. I love my mom, but…goodness, didn’t she ever shut up? It was sad, because I wasn’t listening. And George wasn’t listening –and that’s all there was for her to talk to. My baby brother was only a year old, so he got about as much as I did out of her when she was going on like this.

Namely blah, blah, blah.

We’re on the way to pick him up from the babysitter, who lives across town. But she was the only one who mom trusted to take care of him.

George throws paint, gum and whatever else he found on my clothes, so it really didn’t matter to me where he stayed during mom's work hours.

“Hey, Johnny, are you even listening to me? I’m trying to tell you about the time in high school when I nearly dropped out, aren’t you …”

Her voice faded away, and then I was dreaming.

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November 22nd, 2008

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I wake up slowly, the fog of sleep disappearing inch by inch.. The smell of antiseptic is probably something George spilled, and subtle beeping was probably my mom’s alarm clock in the next room.

Then I remember I fell asleep in the car.

I wondered why I didn’t remember walking to my bedroom. Had I really been that tired?

I went to open my eyes. It was hard –as though they were crusted together. I feel fine, but it was annoying me to pieces. I begin to lift my arm so I could lick my fingers to wash it away, but my arm was heavy, very heavy, as though it had suddenly turned to lead. Or something else really heavy. I could move it, but not like normal. It felt like I was weak. What…what was happening to me? What had happened? Why wasn’t my mom jabbering away? Why wasn’t George crying?

Why couldn’t I move right?

I try to sit up. That was possible. I use the mattress to push myself up until I'm sitting up straight. It sort of hurt…had I slept on something wrong?

I hear a click and a creak, the wonderfully familiar sound of a door opening. I squint my eyes a bit, then pull them apart, and they open just a smidge, and I could sort of make out a figure. A woman’s blurry form. My brow furrowed. Why was everything so bright…?

“Mom?”

“I…I…” the woman says nervously, surprised. She's not my mom, “You’re awake!”

Why's that surprising!? Most people wake up –unless their dead.

I’m not dead.

“Where’s my mom?” I demand, and God, my eyes are bugging me! But more importantly, where the hell am I? I can’t be at home. Or if I am, what’s this strange woman doing in our apartment?

I’m not scared. I can’t be scared. I’m not in pain, no one's threatening me...I can’t be a girl about this.

But…I have to know…

Where. Is. My. Mom?

“I…oh gosh, I forget you’re supposed to be twelve,” Who in the world…? And what did she mean by that? “No, no, sweetie…Your eyes haven’t been opened in a while, I’ll get you some water –”

“Where –where am I? What do you mean my eyes haven’t been opened in a while? Where am I? Who are you? Did you kidnap me? Mom! Mom! MOM!”

“Oh goodness! Please, I can call her for you in just a minute –”

“No! NOW!” I yelled furiously, my body aching. Why was the little movement I was doing too exasperating? Why was I so tired?

Had they drugged me? Was I going to die? Oh God, where’s my mom!?

“I want my MOM! Right now! What have you done with her!?” I can't take this. I'm so confused, my muscles throb.

She stuttered, “I –I –just -Wait here - I’ll get the doctor!”

Okay. No more of tough guy act. I… I’m terrified. My mom isn't here. My mom had never not been there. This couldn’t –God, I’m so scared –I’ve never been this scared. I was supposed to be doing homework! My mom was supposed to be talking non-stop and I was supposed to be ignoring her!

I manage to wrap my arms around the blanket front of me, the way I used to during scary movies. I don't know what's going on.

“Mommy?”

This really can't be happening. This is a bad dream, a nightmare I'm bound to wake up from. I take a few breaths, in, out, in, out, in…out…in…out….in…I just have to think. Nothing about the place I'm in feels remotely threatening. I'm just panicking myself. I move my hands, and feel wires of some sort sticking to my body…and a…a needle? A needle sticking into the back of my hand.

I'm at…a hospital? That made sense. The woman…she had mentioned a doctor.

Why…why am I in a hospital?

Now that I'm more coherent...not too frightened to see –hear –feel –things more clearly…I was pretty sure…that this was awake.

And that this is the first time I've been awake in a long time.

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All comments welcome. Please review!!

AMV