(15) Mr. Bean

"Charlie-"

"Shh."

I snapped my mouth shut and let him push me silently. He's currently driving the wheelchair I'm in. Yes, I'm that immature that I call it 'driving'.

I stared ahead and pointed at my bedroom door. "Just go right the-"

"Shhhhh..." He hissed as we entered my room. "Hold on, I'll carry you."

"Where's mom?" I whispered, "Is she here?"

"No, she's not." He whispered back, doing something with the wheelchair, and eventually, we came to a full stop.

It's not that I'm still living in my parents' house, actually, I have my own small apartment. But my mom insisted on me staying here so that she could help me, and I told her that I'd leave as soon as possible.

"Oh.." I stood up and limped toward my bed.

"Hey, hey, hey." He whispered, "I told you that I will carry you."

"And I've told you that I'm not disabled," I whispered, frowning silently. "Plus, why are we whispering?"

"I don't know." He whispered back, sitting on my bed. "You started it."