I Prefer the Mind Control Rewrite - Chapter 11
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“You wanna go on a picnic date? There’s one problem with that. Food. You kinda need to eat on a picnic, right?” I said.
“That’s generally the idea,” Preston murmured. “But where’s the problem with food?”
“We have nowhere to prepare it. The dorm kitchen has been broken before the school was even built, and I’m not eating convenience store crap on a romantic date,” I muttered.
Preston looked thoughtful. “Maybe one of the other dorms has a kitchen we can borrow?”
“Do you have any friends who would let us borrow their kitchen?” I asked.
He sighed, “Pretty much all my other friends dumped me when Bonnie and I split.”
“People suck,” I muttered.
Preston asked, “You got anybody?”
“Kitchen-borrowing-level friends? Nope, I do not. The closest thing I have to a friend who would let me borrow his kitchen is Xan, and he’s not a friend and wouldn’t actually let me borrow his kitchen,” I said.
He laughed. “Xan could probably get a whole army of servants to make a four-star meal, if he wanted.”
The idea of a four-star picnic was so ridiculous, I started laughing, too. I looked into Preston’s gray eyes, which sparkled despite the crap we went through yesterday. It was a brand new day, right?’
“Why don’t you call him?” Preston suggested.
I raised an eyebrow. “Are you smoking something?”
“You’re the one who insists on real food for our date, and I don’t know anybody else we might borrow from,” he said.
My eyebrow remained raised. “You want me to see if we can borrow the kitchen of someone who asked me out in order to prepare food for our date?”
I possessed limited social skills, but even I knew that was fucking ridiculous. So why was I pulling out my phone and dialing Xan’s number? I must have been, like, smoking something mind altering in my sleep. People had sex in their sleep, why not sleep-smoking?
Right as I came to my senses, Xan picked up the phone. “D-dylan?” he stammered, clearly surprised to be hearing from me.
I should have hung up, but instead, I blurted, “Can we borrow your kitchen?” Smooth. I was made of fucking social Teflon.
“What?” Xan asked. “My -- kitchen?”
I said, “Yeah, your kitchen. Preston and I wanna go on a picnic, but we, uh, don’t have a kitchen where we can cook actual food.”
I could almost hear Xan raise an eyebrow. “A picnic? That’s unusual.”
“Uh, it’s a date,” I mumbled.
Xan choked on his words. “A -- date? With -- Preston? Are you -- are you going out with him?”
My fucking face burned. “Yeah, I am. Sorry to bother you with this trivial matter.”
He said quickly, “It’s not a problem. You can borrow my kitchen. I can have groceries ordered. I may be a Prince, but I do know how to cook. I can make food. We can all go. I’ll invite Jirrin.”
Why the fuck was Xan deciding to be so helpful? Care to explain? No? Author, you suck.
“When is good for us to come over? I wanna do it tomorrow Sunday if possible.” I said.
Preston’s jaw dropped at the implication we would actually be using Xan’s kitchen. This was just too fucking weird.
Xan murmured, “Come over around 11AM. Can you do that?”
“Sure, we’ll be there at eleven,” I said.
“It’ll -- it’ll be nice to see you again, Dylan.” Xan’s voice was oddly quiet.
“Yeah. See you tomorrow.” I hung up the phone and stared at it. What the fuck kind of plan was this? An absurd one. It was an absurd fucking plan, the kind of think you might see in a bad sitcom or a romantic comedy.
If this were a fucking romantic comedy and we were entering a contrived situation, did that make Preston my romantic false lead? Was I, like, dooming our relationship by going on this date? Tell me I’m just being paranoid, author. What, no reassurance? Screw you.
Preston gave me a concerned look. “Something wrong?”
“N-nothing,” I said. So why did I feel so uneasy about meeting Xan again? We were just borrowing his kitchen like normal people who borrow their kinda-exes’ kitchens. Totally fucking normal. It wasn’t like Xan was gonna fuck me against his space age refrigerator.
Dammit, I needed to stop thinking about fucking Xan. Why was I thinking about that? I had no interest in sleeping with him because, no matter how incomparably hot the sex was, he was an asshole.
And, hello, I had a boyfriend.
* * *
The next day, Preston and I waited in Parking Lot C for Xan to arrive. He planned to pick us up like the gentleman he really wasn’t.
“This is fucking weird,” I muttered.
When Xan’s car arrived, my heart skipped a beat. What the fuck? I -- I didn’t like Xan. Sure, he was fucking hot with sexual ability to match, but wasn’t it supposed to be that when you got a boyfriend you might actually love, you stopped wanting to fuck other people, at least if you were human and with someone raised human? It -- it wasn’t working that way for me, not when Xan stepped out of the car, looking as fucking gorgeous as ever.
I had the feeling Preston wouldn’t be up for sharing if he didn’t need tuition money, though I hadn’t actually asked. Hey, author, how did you bring that up with your boyfriend? “Hi, I might like to fuck other people and watch you do the same? How about it?” Yeah, that phrasing is not gonna work, so you got any tips? No? Dammit, you’re unhelpful.
With the way Xan smiled, I wished Preston had left the mind control on me. Maybe then my heart wouldn’t be fucking fluttering like a butterfly on too much ADDerall.
“Hello Dylan...Preston. How are you?” Xan said.
Fabulous and not at all attracted to you, Xan. How do you do?, I thought to myself as my stomach did a backflip. Stomachs were supposed to outgrow that after high school, right?
Preston murmured, “I’m okay.”
I stammered, “I’m -- I’m fine. Great. Awesome. Definitely not thinking about how I want to have sex with you.”
I froze. Every last cell in my body froze to a perfect fucking standstill. I -- I did not say that. I couldn’t have said that. Preston looked at me with a combination of hurt and horror, so I had to have said something, but I couldn’t have said that.
“Did I -- did I really say that?” I squeaked.
“Yeah, you did,” Preston whispered. “Why?”
Because I’m the worst boyfriend ever?
I stared at the ground, my eyes fucking stinging. “Because it’s true.”
“You -- you said you wanted me. You said you didn’t want him anymore,” Preston cried.
I continued staring at the ground. “It’s -- not on purpose, but that doesn’t fucking matter. I still want Xan.”
To prove that I didn’t like this situation in the least, I gave Xan my most withering glare. Just because the baser parts of me wanted to fuck him, didn’t mean I would actually do it.
“Are you serious?” Xan asked, stunned.
I hissed, “Yes and no. Yes, I am seriously fucking attracted to you. No, that doesn’t mean I am actually going to try and sleep with you. I don’t like you.”
“More attracted to him than you ever were to me, right?” Preston muttered.
The tears started to fall. How the fuck did I explain this? Sure, I had a ridiculous, inexplicable attraction to Xan, but it -- it didn’t mean I didn’t want to be with Preston. Nobody “got” me better than Preston did. Nobody could make me feel so right, so okay with myself. Nobody could make me feel so hopeful. Xan certainly fucking couldn’t.
I said, “Preston, I still want to be with you. But -- I don’t know if it’s right to ask you to stay when I feel such...physical bullshit towards Xan here.”
“Bullshit?” Xan asked.
The tears fell freely now, and I choked on my words. “Yeah, bullshit. Because I fucking love Preston, but it’s not fair to try and keep him when my thoughts are filled with you.”
A sense of loss crashed through my mind. Preston and I should have been fucking happy together. We were best friends, though I didn’t think we could continue to be that way, not anymore. I had no other real friends, and my stupid, worthless, pile of shit brain had to go and ruin an awesome friendship and a budding relationship.
Preston said, “I still want to be with you, Dylan.”
Words were nearly fucking impossible., but I managed, “I -- I want to be with you, too. But -- I just don’t know if I can be the kind of boyfriend you deserve. You deserve someone who can give you their full attention. You deserve someone who won’t constantly wish they could share.”
Xan watched us, dumbfounded. I wished I could set him on fire with my mind, but it wasn’t Xan’s fault I wanted him when he was such an asshole.
Preston whispered, “I -- I could try. You know, the sharing and stuff? Maybe? I would give it a shot, for you.”
I said, “I’m not asking you to change your whole sexual personality for me. That -- that kind of shit never works out. I don’t want you to be someone else for me. I’m not worth it. Nobody fucking is.”
“I don’t want this to be over,” Preston whimpered.
“You think I do? Because I fucking don’t. But it is. I’m -- so sorry,” I choked out.
I couldn’t fucking stand it anymore, watching Preston’s face fill with despair. The hurt there stabbed my own unworthy heart, making me want to crumple to the ground. I wasn’t gonna do that in front of Xan and Preston, though.
Preston whispered, “I’m gonna go back to our room. See you around, I guess, if it’s really over.”
“It really is,” I said.
He turned around and shuffled back to the dorm, shoulders slumped.
I ran in the opposite direction.
Something grabbed my wrist.
It was Xan.
“Let me go!” I shouted.
“I’m not letting you go,” he growled.
“Let me go or I’ll beat you to death with a giant plush herpes virus.”
Xan let out a mirthless laugh. “Do you remember what happened last time you just ran off? We found you lying on train tracks.”
“What’s it to you?” I asked.
He said, “I don’t want to see anyone kill themselves, especially not someone I care about.”
“You care about me? What the fuck? Now let me fucking go.” I glared at him as hard as I could. He just tightened his grip on my wrist.
“I know you don’t like me, but that -- that doesn’t make me not care.”
I spat, “Oh really? You’re going to develop an actual capacity for emotion?”
Xan sighed, “I’m going to do the right thing, even if it makes you hate me more.”
“Fine, pretend you actually give a shit if it makes you feel less guilty. Follow me back to my dorm if you insist. Just leave me alone after that, okay?” I looked into his eyes, begging him to quit this fake caring bullshit.
“I’m not sure that’s the best idea,” he muttered.
I said, “If you think I’m gonna kill myself or whatever, Preston can watch me.” I paused. Maybe that wasn’t fair to him. I wouldn’t want to watch over my unstable ex who had just dumped me. “Fine, maybe that’s not such a good idea.”
“I’ll take you back to my apartment. For today, at least.” Pain crossed Xan’s features, and he still didn’t let me go. “I know you don’t want to, but you need to be safe, and unless you want me calling the police...”
Dammit, I did not want him to call the police. I muttered, “Fine, but I should probably tell Preston where I’m going, so he doesn’t, like, worry or whatever.” That wouldn’t be an awkward call at all.
Xan let me go, but he stayed close by, within easy grabbing distance. I got my phone out and called Preston. My heart thudded as I waited for him to pick up. After many rings, it went directly to voicemail. I guessed he didn’t want to talk to me. Who would, in his situation?
I said, “Hey -- hey Preston? Yeah, I’m gonna be out for a while. Don’t -- don’t want you to worry about me. Going -- well, I’m going to Xan’s apartment. Not for that. He, uh, doesn’t want me to kill myself. For some reason. Don’t see why he fucking cares, but there you go. I’m not sure when I’ll be back, but -- I won’t be dead? Yay? Uh, see you later.”
Sighing, I hung up and put my phone away. That was a lovely fucking message.
“Hey, Xan? You got a computer I can borrow? I should, like, pretend to do homework, and I can access most of what I need online.”
He offered a smile I didn’t return. “I don’t know that you should be worrying about homework, but I have a computer you can borrow. Come on, let’s get in the car.”
“Fine,” I grumbled, not even trying a little bit to pretend I was okay with this.
We got in the car. I stared out the window as we drove, saying not a fucking word to Xan. What could I say? We had nothing to talk about. I hated him, but I hated myself worse for being so attracted to someone who had been so terrible to me. Even now, I wanted him. I wished I could tear out whatever part of my brain illogically wished we could make it work. What kind of soulless thing was I to be thinking of that when I just broken up with Preston?
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written for 500themes prompt #275 - "By the Light of a Million Stars"
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“You wanna go on a picnic date? There’s one problem with that. Food. You kinda need to eat on a picnic, right?” I said.
“That’s generally the idea,” Preston murmured. “But where’s the problem with food?”
“We have nowhere to prepare it. The dorm kitchen has been broken before the school was even built, and I’m not eating convenience store crap on a romantic date,” I muttered.
Preston looked thoughtful. “Maybe one of the other dorms has a kitchen we can borrow?”
“Do you have any friends who would let us borrow their kitchen?” I asked.
He sighed, “Pretty much all my other friends dumped me when Bonnie and I split.”
“People suck,” I muttered.
Preston asked, “You got anybody?”
“Kitchen-borrowing-level friends? Nope, I do not. The closest thing I have to a friend who would let me borrow his kitchen is Xan, and he’s not a friend and wouldn’t actually let me borrow his kitchen,” I said.
He laughed. “Xan could probably get a whole army of servants to make a four-star meal, if he wanted.”
The idea of a four-star picnic was so ridiculous, I started laughing, too. I looked into Preston’s gray eyes, which sparkled despite the crap we went through yesterday. It was a brand new day, right?’
“Why don’t you call him?” Preston suggested.
I raised an eyebrow. “Are you smoking something?”
“You’re the one who insists on real food for our date, and I don’t know anybody else we might borrow from,” he said.
My eyebrow remained raised. “You want me to see if we can borrow the kitchen of someone who asked me out in order to prepare food for our date?”
I possessed limited social skills, but even I knew that was fucking ridiculous. So why was I pulling out my phone and dialing Xan’s number? I must have been, like, smoking something mind altering in my sleep. People had sex in their sleep, why not sleep-smoking?
Right as I came to my senses, Xan picked up the phone. “D-dylan?” he stammered, clearly surprised to be hearing from me.
I should have hung up, but instead, I blurted, “Can we borrow your kitchen?” Smooth. I was made of fucking social Teflon.
“What?” Xan asked. “My -- kitchen?”
I said, “Yeah, your kitchen. Preston and I wanna go on a picnic, but we, uh, don’t have a kitchen where we can cook actual food.”
I could almost hear Xan raise an eyebrow. “A picnic? That’s unusual.”
“Uh, it’s a date,” I mumbled.
Xan choked on his words. “A -- date? With -- Preston? Are you -- are you going out with him?”
My fucking face burned. “Yeah, I am. Sorry to bother you with this trivial matter.”
He said quickly, “It’s not a problem. You can borrow my kitchen. I can have groceries ordered. I may be a Prince, but I do know how to cook. I can make food. We can all go. I’ll invite Jirrin.”
Why the fuck was Xan deciding to be so helpful? Care to explain? No? Author, you suck.
“When is good for us to come over? I wanna do it tomorrow Sunday if possible.” I said.
Preston’s jaw dropped at the implication we would actually be using Xan’s kitchen. This was just too fucking weird.
Xan murmured, “Come over around 11AM. Can you do that?”
“Sure, we’ll be there at eleven,” I said.
“It’ll -- it’ll be nice to see you again, Dylan.” Xan’s voice was oddly quiet.
“Yeah. See you tomorrow.” I hung up the phone and stared at it. What the fuck kind of plan was this? An absurd one. It was an absurd fucking plan, the kind of think you might see in a bad sitcom or a romantic comedy.
If this were a fucking romantic comedy and we were entering a contrived situation, did that make Preston my romantic false lead? Was I, like, dooming our relationship by going on this date? Tell me I’m just being paranoid, author. What, no reassurance? Screw you.
Preston gave me a concerned look. “Something wrong?”
“N-nothing,” I said. So why did I feel so uneasy about meeting Xan again? We were just borrowing his kitchen like normal people who borrow their kinda-exes’ kitchens. Totally fucking normal. It wasn’t like Xan was gonna fuck me against his space age refrigerator.
Dammit, I needed to stop thinking about fucking Xan. Why was I thinking about that? I had no interest in sleeping with him because, no matter how incomparably hot the sex was, he was an asshole.
And, hello, I had a boyfriend.
* * *
The next day, Preston and I waited in Parking Lot C for Xan to arrive. He planned to pick us up like the gentleman he really wasn’t.
“This is fucking weird,” I muttered.
When Xan’s car arrived, my heart skipped a beat. What the fuck? I -- I didn’t like Xan. Sure, he was fucking hot with sexual ability to match, but wasn’t it supposed to be that when you got a boyfriend you might actually love, you stopped wanting to fuck other people, at least if you were human and with someone raised human? It -- it wasn’t working that way for me, not when Xan stepped out of the car, looking as fucking gorgeous as ever.
I had the feeling Preston wouldn’t be up for sharing if he didn’t need tuition money, though I hadn’t actually asked. Hey, author, how did you bring that up with your boyfriend? “Hi, I might like to fuck other people and watch you do the same? How about it?” Yeah, that phrasing is not gonna work, so you got any tips? No? Dammit, you’re unhelpful.
With the way Xan smiled, I wished Preston had left the mind control on me. Maybe then my heart wouldn’t be fucking fluttering like a butterfly on too much ADDerall.
“Hello Dylan...Preston. How are you?” Xan said.
Fabulous and not at all attracted to you, Xan. How do you do?, I thought to myself as my stomach did a backflip. Stomachs were supposed to outgrow that after high school, right?
Preston murmured, “I’m okay.”
I stammered, “I’m -- I’m fine. Great. Awesome. Definitely not thinking about how I want to have sex with you.”
I froze. Every last cell in my body froze to a perfect fucking standstill. I -- I did not say that. I couldn’t have said that. Preston looked at me with a combination of hurt and horror, so I had to have said something, but I couldn’t have said that.
“Did I -- did I really say that?” I squeaked.
“Yeah, you did,” Preston whispered. “Why?”
Because I’m the worst boyfriend ever?
I stared at the ground, my eyes fucking stinging. “Because it’s true.”
“You -- you said you wanted me. You said you didn’t want him anymore,” Preston cried.
I continued staring at the ground. “It’s -- not on purpose, but that doesn’t fucking matter. I still want Xan.”
To prove that I didn’t like this situation in the least, I gave Xan my most withering glare. Just because the baser parts of me wanted to fuck him, didn’t mean I would actually do it.
“Are you serious?” Xan asked, stunned.
I hissed, “Yes and no. Yes, I am seriously fucking attracted to you. No, that doesn’t mean I am actually going to try and sleep with you. I don’t like you.”
“More attracted to him than you ever were to me, right?” Preston muttered.
The tears started to fall. How the fuck did I explain this? Sure, I had a ridiculous, inexplicable attraction to Xan, but it -- it didn’t mean I didn’t want to be with Preston. Nobody “got” me better than Preston did. Nobody could make me feel so right, so okay with myself. Nobody could make me feel so hopeful. Xan certainly fucking couldn’t.
I said, “Preston, I still want to be with you. But -- I don’t know if it’s right to ask you to stay when I feel such...physical bullshit towards Xan here.”
“Bullshit?” Xan asked.
The tears fell freely now, and I choked on my words. “Yeah, bullshit. Because I fucking love Preston, but it’s not fair to try and keep him when my thoughts are filled with you.”
A sense of loss crashed through my mind. Preston and I should have been fucking happy together. We were best friends, though I didn’t think we could continue to be that way, not anymore. I had no other real friends, and my stupid, worthless, pile of shit brain had to go and ruin an awesome friendship and a budding relationship.
Preston said, “I still want to be with you, Dylan.”
Words were nearly fucking impossible., but I managed, “I -- I want to be with you, too. But -- I just don’t know if I can be the kind of boyfriend you deserve. You deserve someone who can give you their full attention. You deserve someone who won’t constantly wish they could share.”
Xan watched us, dumbfounded. I wished I could set him on fire with my mind, but it wasn’t Xan’s fault I wanted him when he was such an asshole.
Preston whispered, “I -- I could try. You know, the sharing and stuff? Maybe? I would give it a shot, for you.”
I said, “I’m not asking you to change your whole sexual personality for me. That -- that kind of shit never works out. I don’t want you to be someone else for me. I’m not worth it. Nobody fucking is.”
“I don’t want this to be over,” Preston whimpered.
“You think I do? Because I fucking don’t. But it is. I’m -- so sorry,” I choked out.
I couldn’t fucking stand it anymore, watching Preston’s face fill with despair. The hurt there stabbed my own unworthy heart, making me want to crumple to the ground. I wasn’t gonna do that in front of Xan and Preston, though.
Preston whispered, “I’m gonna go back to our room. See you around, I guess, if it’s really over.”
“It really is,” I said.
He turned around and shuffled back to the dorm, shoulders slumped.
I ran in the opposite direction.
Something grabbed my wrist.
It was Xan.
“Let me go!” I shouted.
“I’m not letting you go,” he growled.
“Let me go or I’ll beat you to death with a giant plush herpes virus.”
Xan let out a mirthless laugh. “Do you remember what happened last time you just ran off? We found you lying on train tracks.”
“What’s it to you?” I asked.
He said, “I don’t want to see anyone kill themselves, especially not someone I care about.”
“You care about me? What the fuck? Now let me fucking go.” I glared at him as hard as I could. He just tightened his grip on my wrist.
“I know you don’t like me, but that -- that doesn’t make me not care.”
I spat, “Oh really? You’re going to develop an actual capacity for emotion?”
Xan sighed, “I’m going to do the right thing, even if it makes you hate me more.”
“Fine, pretend you actually give a shit if it makes you feel less guilty. Follow me back to my dorm if you insist. Just leave me alone after that, okay?” I looked into his eyes, begging him to quit this fake caring bullshit.
“I’m not sure that’s the best idea,” he muttered.
I said, “If you think I’m gonna kill myself or whatever, Preston can watch me.” I paused. Maybe that wasn’t fair to him. I wouldn’t want to watch over my unstable ex who had just dumped me. “Fine, maybe that’s not such a good idea.”
“I’ll take you back to my apartment. For today, at least.” Pain crossed Xan’s features, and he still didn’t let me go. “I know you don’t want to, but you need to be safe, and unless you want me calling the police...”
Dammit, I did not want him to call the police. I muttered, “Fine, but I should probably tell Preston where I’m going, so he doesn’t, like, worry or whatever.” That wouldn’t be an awkward call at all.
Xan let me go, but he stayed close by, within easy grabbing distance. I got my phone out and called Preston. My heart thudded as I waited for him to pick up. After many rings, it went directly to voicemail. I guessed he didn’t want to talk to me. Who would, in his situation?
I said, “Hey -- hey Preston? Yeah, I’m gonna be out for a while. Don’t -- don’t want you to worry about me. Going -- well, I’m going to Xan’s apartment. Not for that. He, uh, doesn’t want me to kill myself. For some reason. Don’t see why he fucking cares, but there you go. I’m not sure when I’ll be back, but -- I won’t be dead? Yay? Uh, see you later.”
Sighing, I hung up and put my phone away. That was a lovely fucking message.
“Hey, Xan? You got a computer I can borrow? I should, like, pretend to do homework, and I can access most of what I need online.”
He offered a smile I didn’t return. “I don’t know that you should be worrying about homework, but I have a computer you can borrow. Come on, let’s get in the car.”
“Fine,” I grumbled, not even trying a little bit to pretend I was okay with this.
We got in the car. I stared out the window as we drove, saying not a fucking word to Xan. What could I say? We had nothing to talk about. I hated him, but I hated myself worse for being so attracted to someone who had been so terrible to me. Even now, I wanted him. I wished I could tear out whatever part of my brain illogically wished we could make it work. What kind of soulless thing was I to be thinking of that when I just broken up with Preston?
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written for 500themes prompt #275 - "By the Light of a Million Stars"
next chapter