I Prefer the Mind Control Rewrite - Chapter 10
previous chapter
---------
A million years, or close enough, passed, and I still hadn’t gotten my doomed French test grade back. I needed to fucking know just how badly my GPA was screwed. I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling. I should have studied for any number of things, but something else occupied my mind.
Preston’s family was visiting today.
Just thinking about that made my heart race, and they weren’t even my fucking family. Honestly, they were never Preston’s family if they were gonna treat him as badly as I expected. You know what a bad family is like, author? They suck, don’t they? At least my family is decent. I’m fucking lucky, aren’t I?
My roommate returned, face pale. “Mom just texted. They’ll -- they’ll be here in five minutes. Iin Parking Lot C”
I asked, “Are you ready for the Brigade of Doom?”
That got a small chuckle. “Doom is right. At least I transferred what little money I have into a separate bank account that has nothing to do with them. And Xan said the fifty grand would be in the new account by Monday night.”
“Wanna go wait for them?” I said.
He sighed, “Might as well.” He paused, his face twisting into a strange expression. “You know what? I’m not gonna wait for Bonnie.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Wait for Bonnie?”
“To tell my parents I’m gay,” he muttered. “I’ll do it myself.”
“Are you sure?”
Preston said, “I’m sure.”
I got off the bed and checked my hair in the mirror. It was a fucking mess, but I didn’t particularly care about being presentable to my roommate’s stupid family. I put on my shoes and my way-too-orange windbreaker. Preston made a face at it.
“Hey, I don’t give a shit about looking good for your family,” I said.
He smiled, slightly. “You have a point.”
I reached for his hand. “If you’re gonna tell them anyway, we might as well show off, yeah?”
Preston took my hand, smiling wider this time. I gave his hand a little squeeze, partly because I needed something to steady my racing heart. This wasn’t even about me, and I was nervous as fuck.
The second we left the dorm, fucking Bonnie appeared. That girl was a demon. She smirked at us.
“Holding hands? How adorable,” Bonnie sneered. “Your parents will love that.”
Preston flashed her a huge grin. “That’s the plan.”
“Let’s get out of here,” I muttered, gently pulling on my best friend’s hand.
He took my lead, and we headed towards the parking lot. Bonnie, unfortunately, followed us.
“Have any plans for being penniless?” she drawled.
“You could try being a decent human being, y’know, “ I snapped.
Preston pulled himself up to his full height. “I have plans. I got my own tuition money for next year.”
Bonnie raised an eyebrow. “And how the hell did you do that?”
“I sold my body to Prince Xan of Zimara for fifty grand,” he deadpanned.
I tried not to let the surprise show on my face.
Bonnie rolled her eyes. “Very cute, Preston. I doubt you even really have the money.”
“I do,” he said. “Got it just how I told you.”
“Whatever,” she muttered. “Be an ass if you feel like it.”
Preston looked away from her and we kept walking towards the parking lot. When we arrived, his family was just getting out of the car. Now that I knew he was adopted, his family didn’t look much like him at all. They had similar slightly tanned skin, but their eyes were all dark brown, almost black. All of them had wavy almost-black hair. The family was supermodel-tall and much skinnier than Preston, who had a bit of muscle and straight sandy blond hair.
All that staring at fucking hair made me think of my wavy hair and how much of a mess it was. I had said I didn’t care about being presentable in front of Preston’s family, but now I felt awkward.
Bonnie waved enthusiastically at them as they approached. “Helloooo, Hannah, Kenneth, Janice. How nice to see Preston’s family!”
It took all my fucking willpower not to roll my eyes.
They smiled at us until they saw me and Preston holding hands. Instantly, their facial expressions went sour.
Hannah wrinkled her nose. “You know, Preston, it looks kinda gay to hold your roomie’s hand like that”
What, not even a hello?
Preston just grinned at her, though I felt his palm start to sweat. “That’s because I am gay.”
His parents’ facial expressions went from merely sour to a combination of surprise and disgust. Hannah’s nose wrinkled further.
“Is this true?” Kenneth asked.
“You know that simply isn’t acceptable,” Janice said.
Kenneth murmured, “I’m going to give you one chance to say this is some kind of sick joke. The York family doesn’t put up with that kind of nonsense.”
Bonnie watched the exchange intently with a disturbed little smirk on her face. Was she enjoying this? Yeah, she was a fucking demon.
Preston said, “It’s not a joke.”
Kenneth glared at him. “You know we can’t allow such deviant behavior. It’s just wrong.”
“Who I am is not wrong or unacceptable or nonsense or anything else. I don’t give a fuck what you think,” Preston hissed.
“You should,” Janice said. “Because we can’t have you be part of this family unless you agree right now to go into therapy and fix this little issue of yours.”
Therapy? Were they on crack? The kind of crack that made you a bigoted, and braindead, asshole?
I scoffed, “Yeah, anti-gay therapy is about as effective as exposing yourself to radiation in order to get superpowers.”
Hannah sneered, “It’s better to try it than be a freak. And, Preston, you might want to know Mom and Dad aren’t your real parents. Yeah, you’re adopted. They told me.”
“Is that so? I’m glad I don’t have any of your DNA, then,” Preston said.
Kenneth muttered, “We’re cutting you off if you won’t even have the decency to try therapy.”
My roommate actually fucking smiled. “Fine by me.”
I knew his smile was fake by how his hand shook in mine, but I admired him for his ability to stand up to his parent-creatures.
I hissed, “Kenneth, Janice, Hannah? You wouldn’t know decency if it stabbed you in the black holes you have instead of hearts.”
Kenneth’s and Janice’s faces clouded with anger. They didn’t like how things were going? Too fucking bad.
“It’s time to go, Dylan,” Preston muttered.
We turned around, never letting go of each other’s hands. I could feel rage radiating from Preston’s “family,” but I didn’t fucking care. Luckily, Bonnie didn’t follow us as we headed back to the dorm. Once our room, Preston sat down on the bed and began to shake.
“I -- I can’t believe I did that,” he said.
I put my arms around his shoulders. “You did well, man.”
“I don’t have a family anymore,” he sobbed. “My relatives? They’ll side with Mom and Dad when they find out. Nobody’s gonna help me. It’s real now, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, it’s real,” I sighed.
I couldn’t lie about that. My chest hurt because I had no real way to help Preston. Even with all the crap I’ve been through, I’ve always had my parents’ support. He had none of that. I couldn’t replace his family. Sure, I could be there for him, but one person wasn’t a fucking support network.
Being fucking clueless, I did the first thing I could think of. I let go of Preston and grabbed his bag of coffee beans. “Have a bean?” I offered.
He took a couple beans out of the bag and popped them into his mouth. Preston chewed slowly. His face was streaked with tears.
Hey, author, I thought this was supposed to be a comedy. This shit isn’t funny, and I think we both deserve some actual fucking funny stuff.
Preston muttered, “This isn’t where I thought my life would go at all.”
“Life doesn’t always go where you fucking want it,” I said. “You mind if I check my grade? Maybe Professor Douche finally posted them.”
“Sure, that’s fine.”
I sat down at my chair in front of my tiny desk that always looked like you could knock it over by staring at it wrong. My old laptop fucking groaned as I booted it up. My heart started racing, because I knew the news wouldn’t be anything good. After all, I had missed the damn test. I just hoped it wouldn’t tank my GPA below probation levels.
Because the universe loves me, it took me three tries to log onto my school account to get my grades. After much frustrated clicking, I found my French test grade on the class’ webpage: the expected zero, along with a note saying perhaps this class is beyond your ability level. The grades were fucking visible to everyone in the class, with our ID numbers attached to them rather than our names. Still, to publicly say I was too stupid for the class? Was Professor Moore fucking serious?
Preston came over and stood beside me. “So, are the grades up? ”
“Yeah. I got a zero, like I expected,” I muttered. “Now I need to check my GPA and hope it’s not as big a bucket of fail as I think it is.”
He squeezed my shoulders. “You’ll be okay.”
I said, “Don’t tell me that unless you’re sure. Because if my GPA falls below probation level, I don’t know what I’ll fucking do.”
After yet more frustrated clicking, I accessed my unofficial transcript. At first, I didn’t look at it, not wanting to know what it said. If I couldn’t see it, I couldn’t be failing, right? Yeah, look, I know that’s not how it fucking works. Let me pretend for a few moments, okay? You’re gonna make me look right now? Asshole.
I looked at my GPA.
“Fuck!” I shouted.
It was now below a 2.0 and thus below probation level. I -- how could I let this happen?
“How could I be so fucking stupid?” I hissed.
Preston said, “You’re not stupid, Dylan.”
“Yeah, I am. How else would I have a GPA below 2.0? Why would I be fucking failing if I were actually smart?” I cried.
He stood behind the chair and wrapped his arms around me. “Because there’s lots of reasons school can suck. You’re not stupid.”
Preston had a funny idea of what “not stupid” meant.
He murmured, “Besides, you can still get your grades up?”
I tried to let the warmth of his arms calm me down, but it wasn’t working so well. My body shook, and the sobs wanted to come. I gave in, letting the sobs escape my chest. Tears spilled from my eyes, too. I pushed Preston’s arms away from me. He stood by, worried.
Kicking off my shoes, I collapsed onto my bed, face-first. Preston sat next to me, placing a hand on my back as I completely fucking broke down. I grabbed the comforter with both hands, My embarrassing, stupid meltdown shook my whole body. I gasped for air, but the crying didn’t quit. Why was Preston even putting up with my bullshit?
He said, “I -- I don’t know how things will go for you, but I’m here.”
“But why? Why are you here?” I sobbed. “Why do you even want to deal with me?”
“What kind of question is that?” he asked.
“A legitimate one?”
Preston growled, “It’s not a legitimate question. What, you think I’m so fickle, I’ll dump you for getting bad grades?”
All this sobbing made it hard to speak. “I don’t think you’re fickle,” I managed.
“Then don’t ask me why I’m here,” he said.
Preston pulled me up into a sitting position; I was too much of a mess to resist him. He wrapped his arms around me. Still sobbing, I hugged him back.
He murmured, “You suppor me through my stuff, and I’ll support you through yours. That’s how it works, right?”
“Yeah, it is,” I whispered through the fucking tears.
“So no more self-pity. I won’t let you go there,” he muttered.
I would try, but not “going there” could be extremely fucking difficult. For Preston, though, I would try. Maybe with his help, I could get through this and be okay.
---------
written for 500themes prompt #205 - "Memory of a Dream"
next chapter
---------
A million years, or close enough, passed, and I still hadn’t gotten my doomed French test grade back. I needed to fucking know just how badly my GPA was screwed. I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling. I should have studied for any number of things, but something else occupied my mind.
Preston’s family was visiting today.
Just thinking about that made my heart race, and they weren’t even my fucking family. Honestly, they were never Preston’s family if they were gonna treat him as badly as I expected. You know what a bad family is like, author? They suck, don’t they? At least my family is decent. I’m fucking lucky, aren’t I?
My roommate returned, face pale. “Mom just texted. They’ll -- they’ll be here in five minutes. Iin Parking Lot C”
I asked, “Are you ready for the Brigade of Doom?”
That got a small chuckle. “Doom is right. At least I transferred what little money I have into a separate bank account that has nothing to do with them. And Xan said the fifty grand would be in the new account by Monday night.”
“Wanna go wait for them?” I said.
He sighed, “Might as well.” He paused, his face twisting into a strange expression. “You know what? I’m not gonna wait for Bonnie.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Wait for Bonnie?”
“To tell my parents I’m gay,” he muttered. “I’ll do it myself.”
“Are you sure?”
Preston said, “I’m sure.”
I got off the bed and checked my hair in the mirror. It was a fucking mess, but I didn’t particularly care about being presentable to my roommate’s stupid family. I put on my shoes and my way-too-orange windbreaker. Preston made a face at it.
“Hey, I don’t give a shit about looking good for your family,” I said.
He smiled, slightly. “You have a point.”
I reached for his hand. “If you’re gonna tell them anyway, we might as well show off, yeah?”
Preston took my hand, smiling wider this time. I gave his hand a little squeeze, partly because I needed something to steady my racing heart. This wasn’t even about me, and I was nervous as fuck.
The second we left the dorm, fucking Bonnie appeared. That girl was a demon. She smirked at us.
“Holding hands? How adorable,” Bonnie sneered. “Your parents will love that.”
Preston flashed her a huge grin. “That’s the plan.”
“Let’s get out of here,” I muttered, gently pulling on my best friend’s hand.
He took my lead, and we headed towards the parking lot. Bonnie, unfortunately, followed us.
“Have any plans for being penniless?” she drawled.
“You could try being a decent human being, y’know, “ I snapped.
Preston pulled himself up to his full height. “I have plans. I got my own tuition money for next year.”
Bonnie raised an eyebrow. “And how the hell did you do that?”
“I sold my body to Prince Xan of Zimara for fifty grand,” he deadpanned.
I tried not to let the surprise show on my face.
Bonnie rolled her eyes. “Very cute, Preston. I doubt you even really have the money.”
“I do,” he said. “Got it just how I told you.”
“Whatever,” she muttered. “Be an ass if you feel like it.”
Preston looked away from her and we kept walking towards the parking lot. When we arrived, his family was just getting out of the car. Now that I knew he was adopted, his family didn’t look much like him at all. They had similar slightly tanned skin, but their eyes were all dark brown, almost black. All of them had wavy almost-black hair. The family was supermodel-tall and much skinnier than Preston, who had a bit of muscle and straight sandy blond hair.
All that staring at fucking hair made me think of my wavy hair and how much of a mess it was. I had said I didn’t care about being presentable in front of Preston’s family, but now I felt awkward.
Bonnie waved enthusiastically at them as they approached. “Helloooo, Hannah, Kenneth, Janice. How nice to see Preston’s family!”
It took all my fucking willpower not to roll my eyes.
They smiled at us until they saw me and Preston holding hands. Instantly, their facial expressions went sour.
Hannah wrinkled her nose. “You know, Preston, it looks kinda gay to hold your roomie’s hand like that”
What, not even a hello?
Preston just grinned at her, though I felt his palm start to sweat. “That’s because I am gay.”
His parents’ facial expressions went from merely sour to a combination of surprise and disgust. Hannah’s nose wrinkled further.
“Is this true?” Kenneth asked.
“You know that simply isn’t acceptable,” Janice said.
Kenneth murmured, “I’m going to give you one chance to say this is some kind of sick joke. The York family doesn’t put up with that kind of nonsense.”
Bonnie watched the exchange intently with a disturbed little smirk on her face. Was she enjoying this? Yeah, she was a fucking demon.
Preston said, “It’s not a joke.”
Kenneth glared at him. “You know we can’t allow such deviant behavior. It’s just wrong.”
“Who I am is not wrong or unacceptable or nonsense or anything else. I don’t give a fuck what you think,” Preston hissed.
“You should,” Janice said. “Because we can’t have you be part of this family unless you agree right now to go into therapy and fix this little issue of yours.”
Therapy? Were they on crack? The kind of crack that made you a bigoted, and braindead, asshole?
I scoffed, “Yeah, anti-gay therapy is about as effective as exposing yourself to radiation in order to get superpowers.”
Hannah sneered, “It’s better to try it than be a freak. And, Preston, you might want to know Mom and Dad aren’t your real parents. Yeah, you’re adopted. They told me.”
“Is that so? I’m glad I don’t have any of your DNA, then,” Preston said.
Kenneth muttered, “We’re cutting you off if you won’t even have the decency to try therapy.”
My roommate actually fucking smiled. “Fine by me.”
I knew his smile was fake by how his hand shook in mine, but I admired him for his ability to stand up to his parent-creatures.
I hissed, “Kenneth, Janice, Hannah? You wouldn’t know decency if it stabbed you in the black holes you have instead of hearts.”
Kenneth’s and Janice’s faces clouded with anger. They didn’t like how things were going? Too fucking bad.
“It’s time to go, Dylan,” Preston muttered.
We turned around, never letting go of each other’s hands. I could feel rage radiating from Preston’s “family,” but I didn’t fucking care. Luckily, Bonnie didn’t follow us as we headed back to the dorm. Once our room, Preston sat down on the bed and began to shake.
“I -- I can’t believe I did that,” he said.
I put my arms around his shoulders. “You did well, man.”
“I don’t have a family anymore,” he sobbed. “My relatives? They’ll side with Mom and Dad when they find out. Nobody’s gonna help me. It’s real now, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, it’s real,” I sighed.
I couldn’t lie about that. My chest hurt because I had no real way to help Preston. Even with all the crap I’ve been through, I’ve always had my parents’ support. He had none of that. I couldn’t replace his family. Sure, I could be there for him, but one person wasn’t a fucking support network.
Being fucking clueless, I did the first thing I could think of. I let go of Preston and grabbed his bag of coffee beans. “Have a bean?” I offered.
He took a couple beans out of the bag and popped them into his mouth. Preston chewed slowly. His face was streaked with tears.
Hey, author, I thought this was supposed to be a comedy. This shit isn’t funny, and I think we both deserve some actual fucking funny stuff.
Preston muttered, “This isn’t where I thought my life would go at all.”
“Life doesn’t always go where you fucking want it,” I said. “You mind if I check my grade? Maybe Professor Douche finally posted them.”
“Sure, that’s fine.”
I sat down at my chair in front of my tiny desk that always looked like you could knock it over by staring at it wrong. My old laptop fucking groaned as I booted it up. My heart started racing, because I knew the news wouldn’t be anything good. After all, I had missed the damn test. I just hoped it wouldn’t tank my GPA below probation levels.
Because the universe loves me, it took me three tries to log onto my school account to get my grades. After much frustrated clicking, I found my French test grade on the class’ webpage: the expected zero, along with a note saying perhaps this class is beyond your ability level. The grades were fucking visible to everyone in the class, with our ID numbers attached to them rather than our names. Still, to publicly say I was too stupid for the class? Was Professor Moore fucking serious?
Preston came over and stood beside me. “So, are the grades up? ”
“Yeah. I got a zero, like I expected,” I muttered. “Now I need to check my GPA and hope it’s not as big a bucket of fail as I think it is.”
He squeezed my shoulders. “You’ll be okay.”
I said, “Don’t tell me that unless you’re sure. Because if my GPA falls below probation level, I don’t know what I’ll fucking do.”
After yet more frustrated clicking, I accessed my unofficial transcript. At first, I didn’t look at it, not wanting to know what it said. If I couldn’t see it, I couldn’t be failing, right? Yeah, look, I know that’s not how it fucking works. Let me pretend for a few moments, okay? You’re gonna make me look right now? Asshole.
I looked at my GPA.
“Fuck!” I shouted.
It was now below a 2.0 and thus below probation level. I -- how could I let this happen?
“How could I be so fucking stupid?” I hissed.
Preston said, “You’re not stupid, Dylan.”
“Yeah, I am. How else would I have a GPA below 2.0? Why would I be fucking failing if I were actually smart?” I cried.
He stood behind the chair and wrapped his arms around me. “Because there’s lots of reasons school can suck. You’re not stupid.”
Preston had a funny idea of what “not stupid” meant.
He murmured, “Besides, you can still get your grades up?”
I tried to let the warmth of his arms calm me down, but it wasn’t working so well. My body shook, and the sobs wanted to come. I gave in, letting the sobs escape my chest. Tears spilled from my eyes, too. I pushed Preston’s arms away from me. He stood by, worried.
Kicking off my shoes, I collapsed onto my bed, face-first. Preston sat next to me, placing a hand on my back as I completely fucking broke down. I grabbed the comforter with both hands, My embarrassing, stupid meltdown shook my whole body. I gasped for air, but the crying didn’t quit. Why was Preston even putting up with my bullshit?
He said, “I -- I don’t know how things will go for you, but I’m here.”
“But why? Why are you here?” I sobbed. “Why do you even want to deal with me?”
“What kind of question is that?” he asked.
“A legitimate one?”
Preston growled, “It’s not a legitimate question. What, you think I’m so fickle, I’ll dump you for getting bad grades?”
All this sobbing made it hard to speak. “I don’t think you’re fickle,” I managed.
“Then don’t ask me why I’m here,” he said.
Preston pulled me up into a sitting position; I was too much of a mess to resist him. He wrapped his arms around me. Still sobbing, I hugged him back.
He murmured, “You suppor me through my stuff, and I’ll support you through yours. That’s how it works, right?”
“Yeah, it is,” I whispered through the fucking tears.
“So no more self-pity. I won’t let you go there,” he muttered.
I would try, but not “going there” could be extremely fucking difficult. For Preston, though, I would try. Maybe with his help, I could get through this and be okay.
---------
written for 500themes prompt #205 - "Memory of a Dream"
next chapter