𝐐𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦?! | 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝟐𝟏. 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐬𝐭

TW: SUBOPTIMAL PARENTING AND POTENTIAL VERBAL ABUSE. PROCEED WITH CAUTION

"Do you love him?"

The power of speech finally returned to you. "What? We're not even dating!"

She sighed.

"So he plays Minecraft. And makes videos. For a living."

"Yes."

"You know how people like that typically turn out, right? He probably has no skills that could get him a real job. He'll burn out or get exposed as a predator or something, and then people will move on and forget all about him. But you'll be stuck with him.

"What a degenerate; you can do so much better. I hope you know he'll never be part of this family."

"That's... not true." You mumbled a few words about coding, but she'd already launched into her next segment.

"Besides, what's your plan once you get home? Long-distance never works. Are you going to see him once or twice a year? Is Discord-dating really going to be enough for you two? You won't be satisfied. Or, do you really think you'll be enough to keep him? He'll probably get tired of you and drop you for some Instagram model with millions of followers. It won't last two months."

Despite the ridiculousness of the hypothetical, her dismissiveness stung. "Mom–"

"–You've never been in love, you don't know men, so you don't know what it's like. You probably think everything is perfect and it'll all work out on its own. You're irrational, [Name]. Let the adults handle this."

Though sorely exaggerated, the essence of those concerns was valid... But her belittlement left you reeling.

"Mom, I never said I was in love. Don't worry. I... won't get with him." Why did you feel a stab of pain? It was true–the prospect of dating Clay was completely impractical. It's not like he was interested, anyway–he'd said so. Why did hearing it from her hurt so much? The only explanation... was that a small part of you had wanted it.

"Good. Are you safe?" She repeated her question.

Presumably, she wanted to hear it from you in private to know you were really safe. You sighed. Despite everything you had to withstand from her, it was clear that she cared in her own way. "Yes. We really haven't done anything," you repeated. "Last night was literally just a sleepover."

There was another silence. Thousands of miles away, the woman on the other line was processing your words. That woman was your mother. Did she believe you? Your heart clenched.

"Good. [Name], I was so worried for you." She continued, "I'm sending your visa the day it arrives. Then I'll book your ticket and send it to you. Can you get to the airport yourself?"

"Yes, Mom."

"You know I'm saying all this for your sake, right? You're going to have to find out sooner or later. Better to learn now."

"Yes, Mom."

"When you're older, you'll understand. You'll thank me. Love you, [Name]."

You paused. Did you really have the energy to say it back right now?

"Love... you." You clicked off. Alone in your bed, you curled up in a ball to keep out the thoughts. Yet, they kept coming.

Was it true? That everything you'd seen, felt, and experienced was wrong, and that she knew everything? In the hazy future, would you truly be cynical and afraid of the world like her? Would you see this as a dodged bullet, thanking her and crawling to the throne you allowed her to take with a river of apologies?