I See You[MxB]

Chapter 6 | The one with the teenybopper

Life has odd ways of familiarizing people with the harsh reality of it being a rollercoaster; there are ocean-deep lows, sky-high highs and a flat terrain we call a daily routine. Being someone with lousy luck, Alastair was introduced to life early. Earlier than others as he was only four years past his teenage. He learned everything the hard way. Before things went downhill and his vision changed towards...everything, he was living his life like any other person in their early twenties. He was riding high, but that was the past. The present - a flat terrain, and the future held him sinking deep underwater with a grave made of nothing as he feels nothing.

He was numb.

Besides being numb, he was certain about what would come after he lessened visiting his friends, eventually breaking contact with them. Family, he did not have any, to begin with. Jay was all he had and only because the stubborn man did not give up. Alastair pushed him away and Jay pushed back harder, trying his best to coax his best friend to be positive. It did not work, Al did not deter and set himself some boundaries. Now, his existence had rules and he followed a daily routine.

Until Preston. The boy was an exception. He did not fit into Alastair's routine. The younger man made him antsy. After a year of staying alone, he got barely comfortable and used to the house. How was he supposed to get accustomed to a presence in his safe space? He did not fear the world but the words they have to say about him terrified him.

Preston terrified him, yet he was thankful to the boy for dragging him back from his self-created hell - his thoughts.

"Do you need cough syrup for that?" Preston remained quiet for once. For a reason unknown, it did not sit well with Alastair. He wanted to rile him up and hopefully make the boy run for hills to never return to his doorstep. "Nevermind, teenagers have a convention to cheap ways of getting addicted."

Preston threw the man a nasty glare. He was the only person Preston had been patient with in his entire life and he was also the person who was hell-bent on testing it. "I am the apparent junkie teenybopper and yet it is you who lack the manners."

"Teeny what?"

"I was not finished but we have established earlier that you lack the basic concept of human behavior." Alastair was stunned to silence. He was not used to such treatment. All he had received in the past few years was pity. "And how old are you? You speak as if you have lived half of your life already."

"Teenygobber, what does it mean?"

"Unbelievable. You are worse than Nate," Preston muttered.

Despite the urge to ask who Nate was, Alastair did not dare to do so. The dinner was yet to be prepared and he did not want to go to bed on an empty stomach by angering his cook. "So?"

"Teenybopper is what you have been calling me since you got to know I am in high school. Was your teenage so bad that you utter the word teenager with such bitterness?"

'No' was on the tip of his tongue. In fact, it was the opposite, he wanted to say the words loudly instead of keeping them locked. Alastair was not the most popular kid in school, but he was among the wittiest ones. Several times he brought the rival school's teams to their knees with his comments after his school team won. Hollering of jocks, the laughter of girls and appreciation from the nerds, he could still hear all the sounds and voices in his head. Slowly, the crowd began to disperse and the noise faded into an irritating buzz. A contagious emotion. He felt the same irritation build inside him gradually as his expression turned neutral.

"My teenage years are none of your business. You have wasted enough of my time. It would be highly gracious of you to get back to your own business. Once you are done, set the dishes exactly on the marked space at the dining table at the head of the table. The window side. Do not forget, 7 PM sharp."

Preston watched with a dropped jaw at the retreating back of the blonde man. The man was bipolar, he was certain. Alastair's warning rang in his head and he scurried to prepare the food.

Once done, he carried the plates, bowls and cutlery to the table. When he noticed the 'marks' Alastair was talking about, he was weirded out. Several outlines were sewn using thread on the tablecloth. With hesitancy, he placed a spoon on the table. It sat there perfectly, covering the outline with precision. Neither a line here nor there.

What the fuck is this man?

He pushed the various thoughts circulating his mind away and set the table quickly. "Mr. Cabot! The food is ready." The man walked into the dining area and sophisticated sank onto the chair. 

"Thank you. You can leave now."

On his way out, Preston could not help but wonder whether Alastair's head was as thick as the glasses he wore.

Are you able to connect with any of the characters?

What are/were you as a teenager?

~ April Skyes