Milo nodded, resting his chin on his knees, "I don't like when people look at me. I don't like being... seen. I guess. And when people see you, opens you up to people knowing you, and I don't like that either. I don't like feeling exposed. But sometimes, sometimes I wish my teachers would look at me anyway. Even if I hated it. Sometimes I wish I'd get really sick, like a patient in Grey's Anatomy or Scrubs, or even House, I guess--my mom watches a lot of medical shows--so that there would be people who had to care. When my dad was sick, the nurses were really nice to me. And when you're going through chemo, they give you popsicles, and my dad always had an orange one, because it was his least favourite flavour, and if he had lived, he knew that whatever flavour he had during treatments he'd end up hating for the rest of his life, so he didn't want to ruin a good one. The nurses always let me have one, too, when I was there with him." He shrugged, looking from the horizon down at his shoes, "I don't know people well enough to disappoint them. Which I guess is the idea."