Word Count: 541

“Lovely Lovey Dove,” was what his mother called him.

She called early the next morning from France, the buzzing of his cell phone rousing Lovely from sleep. He did not feel well rested. The medicine he'd taken the night before had worn off, leaving him exhausted and in pain. The vibrations of his phone against the bedside table annoyed him. Lovely almost knocked the offending device to the floor in his efforts to quiet it.

“What, Mom?” he greeted her.

“Dorian said you were hurt,” she said breathlessly.

“Dorian's exaggerating.”

Under different circumstances Lovely might have exaggerated the truth himself. Certainly he had the habit of milking his injuries and his illnesses for all the attention they were worth. But this time he didn't care for his mother's concern. He wanted to put it behind him, tired of the questions.

“He said you'd been stabbed,” his mother said. He could hear the tears already forming in the sound of her voice.

“Mooooooom,” he complained.

“Is it true?”

“Mom, I'm okay.”

“But were you stabbed?”

“Yes, Mom.”

He heard her sniffling on the other end of the line.

“Moooooooom.”

Adele Belrose was not an especially maternal mother. She wasn't negligent, but she was absent. Often it seemed as if she cared more for her affairs—and for herself—than she did her children. Lovely knew this not to be the case. His mother was indeed not the hands-on sort, but she smothered him with attention when he wanted it least. She was loving, if not always present in her sons' lives.

“I never should have let you go to live with Dorian,” she said.

“Mom, it's not Dorian's fault,” Lovely argued.

“Of course not,” she agreed. “It's that awful city.”

“Mom, I could get mugged anywhere.”

“You sound so annoyed, Lovey Dove.”

“Because you woke me up at six in the morning!”

“Oh, is it that early?” she asked.

“Yes, Mom,” Lovely said.

“Oh, honey, I'm so sorry. You need your rest.”

Lovely could only agree. He was fully prepared to take the phone away from his ear and end the conversation with his mother right there. Unfortunately, she had other ideas.

“I should come see you,” she said.

“No, you shouldn't.”

“I should. You've been hurt. You need your mother.”

“What I need is sleep, Mom.”

“And Dorian said you were mugged with one of your friends! You should introduce me!”

“He's not really a friend,” Lovely said.

It wasn't entirely the truth. Ilian was the closest thing to a friend he had in this city. Lovely simply didn't think he needed friends. In general, they were a waste of time and effort. He supposed Ilian was his friend only because it didn't take a lot of effort to maintain the friendship.

“Don't be like that,” his mother said.

Lovely sighed into the phone and lied back down on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

Suddenly, his mother's voice grew notably serious as she said, “Are you sure you're alright?”

Lovely closed his eyes, thought of Ilian and the Negaverse, and said, “Yeah, Mom. I'm fine.”