Ficlets: from the 100 prompts (083)
(083) With (or without)
- Move over.
That day, for the first time in the weeks he had spent in Athens, he did not make room for the other boy. He had hoped they could be friends, and he understood all too well how it was to feel small and lost in this place. He had assumed the boy was just trying to reassure himself things were going to be all right. But there was a line and a maximum for everything, including his patience, and the redhead he shared a room with had crossed the first and exceeded the second.
- In your wet, mommy-kissing dreams.
They had a fight, of course, and he had many more in the days that followed, as he detached himself further from his roommate and the others in his training group. He learnt to stand his ground, and he found an unsuspected joy in defending every inch of his personal space. The lessons of sharing and compassion his mother had taught him were quickly lost and he was a bit surprised at realizing he didn’t miss them. He didn’t miss his mother any more, either.
In a way, he had found himself and was too busy drawing his own lines and contours. Precision had become an obsession. In his training, in his words, even in the way he walked. There were few superfluous moves left in him, and he was determined to do away with those very quickly. He wouldn’t step aside for anybody again, he would move only with a purpose, as needle piercing through a valuable cloth.
When the Scorpio master came to take him to the Eighth temple, Milo wasn’t really surprised. As he walked past, his roommate half-waved a goodbye. Milo didn’t bother looking back He knew what he wanted, and he would get it. He would have the gold cloth, with or without friends.
Milo chanced a side-glance at his new master, and what he saw settled it. It’d be without friends after all.
- Move over.
That day, for the first time in the weeks he had spent in Athens, he did not make room for the other boy. He had hoped they could be friends, and he understood all too well how it was to feel small and lost in this place. He had assumed the boy was just trying to reassure himself things were going to be all right. But there was a line and a maximum for everything, including his patience, and the redhead he shared a room with had crossed the first and exceeded the second.
- In your wet, mommy-kissing dreams.
They had a fight, of course, and he had many more in the days that followed, as he detached himself further from his roommate and the others in his training group. He learnt to stand his ground, and he found an unsuspected joy in defending every inch of his personal space. The lessons of sharing and compassion his mother had taught him were quickly lost and he was a bit surprised at realizing he didn’t miss them. He didn’t miss his mother any more, either.
In a way, he had found himself and was too busy drawing his own lines and contours. Precision had become an obsession. In his training, in his words, even in the way he walked. There were few superfluous moves left in him, and he was determined to do away with those very quickly. He wouldn’t step aside for anybody again, he would move only with a purpose, as needle piercing through a valuable cloth.
When the Scorpio master came to take him to the Eighth temple, Milo wasn’t really surprised. As he walked past, his roommate half-waved a goodbye. Milo didn’t bother looking back He knew what he wanted, and he would get it. He would have the gold cloth, with or without friends.
Milo chanced a side-glance at his new master, and what he saw settled it. It’d be without friends after all.