Not Enough Culture Shock
More I Prefer the Mind Control. I'm also using this for hc_bingo prompt "culture shock." I'm definitely still playing around with what happens in this verse, lol. I hope you enjoy!
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“I can’t believe you’re drinking that weird blue stuff,” Bonnie says, narrowing her eyes at my glass.
It’s full of a blue bubbly liquid known as Zimaran Blue or ZB. Some of the best fucking alcohol I’ve ever had. Have you ever had it? You haven’t? Oh right, it’s fictional booze and you’re not famous enough to have had it defictionalized, are you?
I take a sip out of my glass. It’s more or less a regular Champagne flute, only the glass is kinda -- what’s the word -- iridescent. Got bits of rainbow shine in the glass -- plus the delicious ZB, of course. So, like, it looks like a blue-themed rainbow. Is that a thing?
Bonnie just keeps fucking looking at me, like she can’t believe I’m enjoying my drink. She’s sitting next to me on our living room couch. We’re just hanging out while enjoying some drinks. Well, I’m enjoying mine. She’s not taken a single sip of her vodka, and I know how much she fucking loves vodka.
“What’s wrong with Zimaran Blue?” I mutter, narrowing my eyes to match hers.
“It tastes weird,” she says, scrunching her nose. “And I’m not the only human who thinks so. Preston doesn’t get it, either. Actually...I talked to Ayli, and she says you’re pretty much the only human she’s ever met who likes the stuff.”
“So?” I raise an eyebrow, trying to ignore how my stomach fucking sinks. I get the worst feeling that Bonnie has a point to make. One beyond my liking alien liquor. And, hey, it’s not so weird I like it. It’s...pleasantly tangy, with a kick I can’t describe in any Earth language. Do you have any idea what my girlfriend is going on about? You won’t tell me? Just fucking great.
Bonnie looks down at the shiny black coffee table thing and drags her hand along the edge of it. She’s deep in thought, in a way I really do not fucking like. “This whole planet is pretty weird, isn’t it?” she mutters.
Wait, what?
“Excuse me?” I huff, crossing my arms over my chest. Wait, I shouldn’t feel insulted that she thinks Zimara is weird. It’s not even my planet. I’m human, like she is.
“We haven’t even been here that long. I’m still adjusting. But you’re not,” she says.
“Excuse me?” I repeat, looking at her. What the fuck is she talking about? And why does she seem, like, actually angry?
“It’s like you completely forgot what culture shock even is,” she says.
I just stare at her. “I know what culture shock is,” I mutter, taking another sip of ZB. Right now, I fucking need it -- Bonnie’s not making any sense.
“Well, then why haven’t you had any of it?” she says. “You came here, and it was -- it was like you were returning to your damn home planet. Like you never belonged on Earth at all.”
What. The. Fuck?
My drink goes flying out of my mouth in a bright blue spray. My eyes widen, and I look at Bonnie like she’s lost it. Because she fucking has. “If you don’t remember, Xan had to drag me here because he couldn’t turn his damn feelings off and people were trying to kill me over it,” I say.
“I know that,” Bonnie sighs. “Which just makes your reaction worse.” Are those fucking tears in her eyes? Her awesome huge brown eyes are kinda...clouded, and, yeah, those are tears.
“Could you please explain yourself?” I mutter, leaning back on the couch.
“You should have hated it here, since you didn’t want to come in the first place. You shouldn’t have enjoyed all the mind control sex you had,” she says. Her voice is as fucking clouded as her eyes.
“And you didn’t enjoy the mind control sex? That stuff’s hot,” I say. Don’t tell Bonnie this, but I kinda prefer it to regular sex.
“I...you know I prefer to be more in control of myself than that when I have sex. You know I don’t fit in here,” Bonnie murmurs, eyes downcast. Her long curly brown hair hides her face. Normally, if she were upset, I would put an arm around her or something, but I get the feeling she would tear my face off if I did that right now. “And look at your clothes,” she adds.
I look down at my clothes. Silvery t-shirt thing. Smooth, slightly loose black pants with a rainbow sheen to them. Strappy sandals. Everything made of lightweight but solid fabric. Normal clothes. Well, normal on this planet. The, uh, Zimaran royal colors are black and silver, so they’re popular in the Palace and elsewhere, to honor the royal family.
Bonnie’s clothes? She’s wearing a blue sundress with white polka dots and wedge sandals made of some wicker-looking material. Human stuff. Yeah, we look totally fucking different, don’t we? You agree? Why do I think that’s a bad thing?
“What about my clothes?” I say.
“Eyes aside, you look like a native Zimaran. You’re -- you’re...at home here,” she says. “And I’m not.”
My stomach drops again, and I feel kinda sick. I take another sip of ZB, just fucking waiting for Bonnie to drop some kinda awfulness on me.
“I can’t stay here, Dylan,” she says.
Wait, what?
“Can’t -- can’t stay here?” I mutter, glad I swallowed my sip before she said that.
“I’m going home, as soon as I’m able,” she says, her eyes shining as she starts crying for real.
“You’re just going -- to leave me here alone?” I say. My brain can’t fucking process this. I stare at Bonnie, trying to make sense of everything. And failing. Totally fucking failing. I should hold her. I should comfort her. I should tell her I’ll come back home as soon as I’m able.
But I fucking can’t.
“Dylan, you won’t be alone. You have Xan, and everyone else,” she says, her voice sad enough it hurts to hear.
“I’m not in love with Xan, for fuck’s sake,” I say, shaking my head.
“I never said you were,” she says, giving me a funny look. “But you are friends with him, and Preston’s doing okay here, hanging out with Ayli. You won’t miss me that much. But I miss Earth. I miss Grouchy and Fuzzball. The kitties.”
“Are you -- breaking up with me? Because you miss your family pets you don’t even see during the school year?” I can barely get the words out over the giant lump in my throat.
Bonnie nods. “I am breaking up with you, Dylan. You don’t understand, do you? You’re so wrapped up in how much you fit in here. I can’t -- take it anymore. Can’t take how well you fit in when I just don’t. I’ll -- see about getting my own room,” she says, standing up. I stare and stare and stare. I should stop her. I should fucking stop her.
I don’t.
I let her go, without saying anything to keep us together.
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“I can’t believe you’re drinking that weird blue stuff,” Bonnie says, narrowing her eyes at my glass.
It’s full of a blue bubbly liquid known as Zimaran Blue or ZB. Some of the best fucking alcohol I’ve ever had. Have you ever had it? You haven’t? Oh right, it’s fictional booze and you’re not famous enough to have had it defictionalized, are you?
I take a sip out of my glass. It’s more or less a regular Champagne flute, only the glass is kinda -- what’s the word -- iridescent. Got bits of rainbow shine in the glass -- plus the delicious ZB, of course. So, like, it looks like a blue-themed rainbow. Is that a thing?
Bonnie just keeps fucking looking at me, like she can’t believe I’m enjoying my drink. She’s sitting next to me on our living room couch. We’re just hanging out while enjoying some drinks. Well, I’m enjoying mine. She’s not taken a single sip of her vodka, and I know how much she fucking loves vodka.
“What’s wrong with Zimaran Blue?” I mutter, narrowing my eyes to match hers.
“It tastes weird,” she says, scrunching her nose. “And I’m not the only human who thinks so. Preston doesn’t get it, either. Actually...I talked to Ayli, and she says you’re pretty much the only human she’s ever met who likes the stuff.”
“So?” I raise an eyebrow, trying to ignore how my stomach fucking sinks. I get the worst feeling that Bonnie has a point to make. One beyond my liking alien liquor. And, hey, it’s not so weird I like it. It’s...pleasantly tangy, with a kick I can’t describe in any Earth language. Do you have any idea what my girlfriend is going on about? You won’t tell me? Just fucking great.
Bonnie looks down at the shiny black coffee table thing and drags her hand along the edge of it. She’s deep in thought, in a way I really do not fucking like. “This whole planet is pretty weird, isn’t it?” she mutters.
Wait, what?
“Excuse me?” I huff, crossing my arms over my chest. Wait, I shouldn’t feel insulted that she thinks Zimara is weird. It’s not even my planet. I’m human, like she is.
“We haven’t even been here that long. I’m still adjusting. But you’re not,” she says.
“Excuse me?” I repeat, looking at her. What the fuck is she talking about? And why does she seem, like, actually angry?
“It’s like you completely forgot what culture shock even is,” she says.
I just stare at her. “I know what culture shock is,” I mutter, taking another sip of ZB. Right now, I fucking need it -- Bonnie’s not making any sense.
“Well, then why haven’t you had any of it?” she says. “You came here, and it was -- it was like you were returning to your damn home planet. Like you never belonged on Earth at all.”
What. The. Fuck?
My drink goes flying out of my mouth in a bright blue spray. My eyes widen, and I look at Bonnie like she’s lost it. Because she fucking has. “If you don’t remember, Xan had to drag me here because he couldn’t turn his damn feelings off and people were trying to kill me over it,” I say.
“I know that,” Bonnie sighs. “Which just makes your reaction worse.” Are those fucking tears in her eyes? Her awesome huge brown eyes are kinda...clouded, and, yeah, those are tears.
“Could you please explain yourself?” I mutter, leaning back on the couch.
“You should have hated it here, since you didn’t want to come in the first place. You shouldn’t have enjoyed all the mind control sex you had,” she says. Her voice is as fucking clouded as her eyes.
“And you didn’t enjoy the mind control sex? That stuff’s hot,” I say. Don’t tell Bonnie this, but I kinda prefer it to regular sex.
“I...you know I prefer to be more in control of myself than that when I have sex. You know I don’t fit in here,” Bonnie murmurs, eyes downcast. Her long curly brown hair hides her face. Normally, if she were upset, I would put an arm around her or something, but I get the feeling she would tear my face off if I did that right now. “And look at your clothes,” she adds.
I look down at my clothes. Silvery t-shirt thing. Smooth, slightly loose black pants with a rainbow sheen to them. Strappy sandals. Everything made of lightweight but solid fabric. Normal clothes. Well, normal on this planet. The, uh, Zimaran royal colors are black and silver, so they’re popular in the Palace and elsewhere, to honor the royal family.
Bonnie’s clothes? She’s wearing a blue sundress with white polka dots and wedge sandals made of some wicker-looking material. Human stuff. Yeah, we look totally fucking different, don’t we? You agree? Why do I think that’s a bad thing?
“What about my clothes?” I say.
“Eyes aside, you look like a native Zimaran. You’re -- you’re...at home here,” she says. “And I’m not.”
My stomach drops again, and I feel kinda sick. I take another sip of ZB, just fucking waiting for Bonnie to drop some kinda awfulness on me.
“I can’t stay here, Dylan,” she says.
Wait, what?
“Can’t -- can’t stay here?” I mutter, glad I swallowed my sip before she said that.
“I’m going home, as soon as I’m able,” she says, her eyes shining as she starts crying for real.
“You’re just going -- to leave me here alone?” I say. My brain can’t fucking process this. I stare at Bonnie, trying to make sense of everything. And failing. Totally fucking failing. I should hold her. I should comfort her. I should tell her I’ll come back home as soon as I’m able.
But I fucking can’t.
“Dylan, you won’t be alone. You have Xan, and everyone else,” she says, her voice sad enough it hurts to hear.
“I’m not in love with Xan, for fuck’s sake,” I say, shaking my head.
“I never said you were,” she says, giving me a funny look. “But you are friends with him, and Preston’s doing okay here, hanging out with Ayli. You won’t miss me that much. But I miss Earth. I miss Grouchy and Fuzzball. The kitties.”
“Are you -- breaking up with me? Because you miss your family pets you don’t even see during the school year?” I can barely get the words out over the giant lump in my throat.
Bonnie nods. “I am breaking up with you, Dylan. You don’t understand, do you? You’re so wrapped up in how much you fit in here. I can’t -- take it anymore. Can’t take how well you fit in when I just don’t. I’ll -- see about getting my own room,” she says, standing up. I stare and stare and stare. I should stop her. I should fucking stop her.
I don’t.
I let her go, without saying anything to keep us together.