Stay?

02

"I'll take the bus," Grae insisted. "You really don't need to drop me off."

His mother put the bowl of soup down in front of him, fingers of steam wafting from the dark surface of it. He barely felt hungry.

"What about the house? Can you fix it up alone?" She asked.

Grae's aunt had owned a tiny property, not quite far from his campus in Bellingridge. Instead of opting for a dorm room or getting a flat, he had preferred staying there, much to the joy of his aunt, who 'finally found some use for the damned place'.

His parents had been concerned about his decision, something about him not being able to take care of a place like that when he couldn't even take care of anything that wasn't his room.

The point they missed was that he did not want to take care of anything but his room until now. But he wanted to live in that house, away from them, closer to his own peace. He would, naturally, take care of it.

In addition, it was a tiny place after all, with nothing but two rooms, a kitchen, a living room, and a little backyard. He didn't think that it would be too hard to maintain. He had been living there for close to two months now, and he had been right.

It did take a little effort, but nothing he couldn't manage.

"The house is just fine," He declared. "I don't need your help with it, I promise."

His father's phone rang. Grae swore it was the loudest thing he had heard next to the man's snores. He knew it was best not to look at his mother for the moment. There would only be disbelief, cold and growing, in her dirt brown eyes that looked so much like his own.

"He'll be fine, Regi," His father spoke, swiping the glowing disconnect button on his screen. "He's done it before."

Grae raised his brows in mild surprise. Some soup slipped from his spoon and back into the bowl. His father was the last person he would have expected to stand on his side of the court.

"What are we talking about?" Simon's voice reached the table before he did.

The chair hardly made a sound when he pulled it back. Grae could see how his mother's face eased back into a smile when Simon arrived, complimenting the breakfast, its layout, and a zillion other things before actually eating.

He was nice, Grae wasn't. Maybe that was it.

"Grae refuses to let us drive him back," she huffed out.

Simon's face twisted into one of those expressions that Grae had come to watch out for over the years. It meant the utterance of a terrible remark. It meant the destruction of Grae's day.

"Don't be ungrateful now," He said. "I'd have been thrilled if someone would do that for me."

Grae gripped the spoon almost too tight. It dug into his skin and turned it crimson. The majoritarian agreement in the room almost screamed at him, and he feared his father would finally turn on him too.

"I'm grateful for the offer, but that does not mean I have to accept it, Simon. It's just a two-hour ride. I don't get why everyone's got to be so dramatic about it."

Grae felt it in his guts before it actually happened- the annoyed huff from his mother, the audible prayer she made every time Grae contradicted what she believed, and the subtle accusations of his father angled at him for spoiling the mood.

If Simon felt better after putting Grae through that, he did a good job at hiding it.

"Fine," He sighed when everyone had spat out remarks about Grae and the wonderful personality he was to their hearts' content. "Take me there."