I Prefer the Mind Control Rewrite - Chapter 20
My chapters got mis-numbered starting around Chapter 19, so this is the *real* chapter 20.
previous chapter
---------
“So are you sure you’re fucking ready for this?” I asked Xan. I smacked my forehead, because I just realized it didn’t matter if he were ready or not. We couldn’t really avoid this if we wanted to be reasonable people. I may have been going off the planet with a guy I didn’t actually know that well, but I wasn’t entirely senseless. Not entirely -- I would at least try to get my parents’ approval first.
Xan gripped the wheel of the car just a bit tighter. “Am I ready? I hardly think I’m ready to meet your parents -- what if I make a bad impression?”
“They’re pretty easy going. Just don’t mention LOLcats. My dad hates LOLcats -- thinks they’re partly responsible for the shitty grammar in his students’ papers. He’s an English teacher, if I didn’t tell you,” I said. I took a deep breath, starting to feel fucking nervous myself. “Some kid apparently titled his paper ‘I Can Haz Symbolyzm?’ -- yes, really.”
Xan raised an eyebrow. “I have not spent that much time looking at LOLcats, but I know enough about schooling to realize that language used in internet memes doesn’t belong in academic papers.”
I snorted, not quite able to believe I was discussing fucking LOLcats with an actual alien. What a way to be a cultural ambassador for my planet, huh? “Xan, how much do you even know about the human internet?” I wondered.
“I’ve seen enough that if I were to judge your people by the darkest corners of it, I might suggested blasting your planet for the good of the galaxy,” he muttered, though he sounded slightly amused.
I put my head in my hands. “Please don’t judge humanity by the worst of the internet. I would suggest blowing us up, and I live here,” I groaned.
Xan chuckled softly. “You won’t be living here for much longer,” he murmured.
Perhaps “I live here” was a poor choice of words. You agree, author? Oh fuck you -- it’s not like your word choice is always perfect.
I looked out the window, recognizing the neighborhood; we were almost home -- home being where my fucking parents lived. I rested my hand on the divider between the seats. Xan put his hand on top of mine, giving it a little squeeze. “Do you think your parents will like me if I give them my waffle recipe?”
While it might not have been so polite, I giggled. “I think they might find that kind of baffling,” I said.
“Baffling? What is so baffling about waffles?” Xan asked. He sounded very bewildered. “I mean, you liked my waffles.”
I leaned back in my seat. “Well, it’s -- it’s kind of...unexpected that, uh -- someone like you would bother cooking even normal waffles, let alone make your own damn recipe. I mean -- a Prince making his own waffles? That’s more than a little bit unusual.”
“Hmm, I suppose so -- but they’re good waffles,” Xan murmured.
Before I knew it, we pulled into my parents’ gravel driveway, already full of late spring flowers arranged neatly. My dad did all the gardening; my mom didn’t kill plants quite as quickly as she killed otherwise potentially edible foodstuffs.
Xan stopped the car, parking it perfectly, probably because it was a magic spaceship car with a...magnetic targeting system or something. He squeezed my hand, and turned to look at me. Damn, did he look nervous as anything. “Do I look alright? I wonder if I wore the right thing,” he murmured.
He never looked anything but amazing. Today, Xan had worn some of his more human clothes, probably to make a good impression. I wasn’t sure the human outfit would really help all that much, because, uh, he was an alien taking me off-planet. Jeans and a t-shirt wouldn’t exactly change that, but -- it was an effort to show he was willing to try and fit in?
I put my hand on top of his, giving it a little squeeze. “You look good, man,” I muttered. “I don’t think Mom and Dad are going to care what you’re fucking wearing, honestly.” They really probably wouldn’t, even if I somewhat doubted the logic of wearing human clothes.
Xan smiled at me, still looking nervous, and we walked up to the front porch together. My stomach twisted; I hoped there wouldn’t be any impending disaster that I activated specifically by worrying about impending disasters. As far as parents went, mine weren’t disaster-makers, but still -- meeting the parents has too much potential for drama for you to pass up, doesn’t it? You’re going to make something terrible happen, aren’t you?
We held hands as I rang the doorbell. I had a key, but suddenly appearing in the house with my boyfriend seemed like a seriously bad idea. Xan and I waited, my nervousness started to turn into fucking nausea. Puking would not be a good thing for my parents to associate with Xan.
Finally, my mom opened the door for us. She was smiling, and, judging from the twinkle in her brown eyes, it was an actual smile and not an “I am going to murder you with a leaf blower for touching my son” smile.
I waved -- I didn’t know how to behave in this situation, okay? “Hi, Mom,” I muttered. What else was I supposed to do? I had introduced a partner to my parents only once before, and she wasn’t taking me off the fucking planet. And that relationship ended when -- you don’t get to fucking know.
Xan held out his hand for my mom to shake. She took it, and I couldn’t help noticing how he was a whole foot taller than she was. Xan murmured, “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Hathaway.”
“It’s nice to meet you, too, Prince Xan. And you can call me Mary,” Mom murmured.
He blushed, just slightly. “Oh, please, just ‘Xan’ is fine,” he said as he let go of her hand.
“Why don’t you two come inside? Todd should be home any minute now.” Mom gestured at us to come inside, and we followed her into the house. Xan’s grip on my hand tightened, and I tried to give him an “it’s okay, she won’t try to kill you” smile.
Mom lead us into the living room, where Xan and I sat down on the couch.
“Would you like some some tea? I was just about to make a pot,” she said. Her eyes widened in sudden realization. “Oh, I’m sorry. Can you drink tea? It’s not poisonous or anything for you, is it?”
He shook his head, smiling slightly. I could still sense nervousness radiating from him, though. “It’s not poisonous for me -- and that would be lovely,” Xan murmured.
I nodded. “I’d like some tea, too.” I didn’t normally drink tea, but having something to do with my hands would be nice.
Once my mom left the room, Xan turned to me. He was definitely fucking nervous. “She doesn’t seem to outright hate me yet?”
I put my arm around him, pulling him to me. Sure, such a level of physical closeness might not be fucking appropriate, but Xan looked like he might explode from his nerves. And that would be messy.
I said, “Xan, my mom’s not going to hate you.”
He shifted in his seat, looking away from me. “Even -- even though I’m taking you away?”
Before I could answer, Mom returned with the tea. “Oh, don’t you two look so cute together,” she murmured. She handed us our teacups, and I took a sip. At least Mom seemed to approve? “Cute” was a good sign, right?
Xan blushed and took a sip of his own tea. Okay, this was awkward. You got any idea of how to make this situation less fucking awkward? It’s as awkward for you to write as it is for me to read? Really? I fucking doubt that.
Mom smiled at us as she sat down in a nearby armchair. “Tea is one of the few things I can make. I’m not much of a cook, I’m afraid.”
“She burned water,” I said.
Xan looked more than a little bewildered. “I -- don’t think that’s physically possible, Dylan.”
Mom laughed merrily. “Oh, it was. Just trust me on that one.”
At that moment, the doorbell rang. My mom put her teacup down on the coffee table and said, “That must be Todd. I’ll get it.”
She disappeared again. Xan took another sip of his tea. I murmured, “Xan, it’s okay. My mom -- she’s harmless. And my dad, uh, well he might threaten to let newbie jellyfish use you for stinging practice, but he’s harmless in reality.”
That might not be as bad as the pit of fire-breathing porcupines?
My mom returned with my dad, who was smiling but not as much as my mom was. The two of them looked a whole lot like each other; they had the same stupidly-name chocolate brown hair like mine and similar fucking faces. My dad did have my blue-gray eyes, though. I guessed the similarity was that “couples look like each other over time” thing. Would I turn as pretty as Xan if we were together for a long time?
Maybe it was best not to think about the future too fucking much. While I was okay with leaving the damn Earth, too much thinking would send me into a panic, and Xan didn’t need that, not when he was so nervous already.
Xan stood up and offered his hand to my dad. They shook hands, much like he and my mom did. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Hathaway,” he said.
“It’s nice to meet you too, Xan,” my dad answered before breaking the handshake. He didn’t call Xan “Prince,” so I figured Mom must have told him about that.
Dad took the other armchair, and Xan returned to the couch, next to me. My dad crossed his arms over his chest. “So, Dylan, tell me just why you think running away with Xan is a good idea.”
I thought it was actually recklessly stupid, but I was doing it anyway because I had fallen hard for Xan despite logic and reason telling me explosions would result. Possibly literal explosions. I didn’t fucking know.
Taking a deep breath, I said, “Because not going is simply inconceivable. I can’t imagine losing Xan. Staying would be, like, giving up my opportunity to be happy.”
My mom raised an eyebrow. “You are aware that going to another planet won’t magically make your problems go away, right?”
Uh...I was kind of aware? Sort of? A little? Fuck you, fine, I do kind of think my problems will go away on Zimara, at least a little. I mean, it’s not like Xan got tickets for my mental issues so they could board his spaceship, right? Okay, I don’t have an actual ticket either. You know what? Being honest with myself really kind of fucking sucks.
Dad nodded. “Your mom is right, you know. Now, I’m not saying you shouldn’t go, but -- interstellar travel isn’t going to just up and fix everything. I know you’ve been having trouble in school --”
“Hey!” I interrupted, nearly getting up from my seat. “How did you even know that?” Xan took my hand; I felt slightly more settled when he did.
Mom inclined her head. “You always tell us when you’re doing well academically. For months now, you’ve said nothing or evaded our questions. What other conclusion could we draw?”
I felt my cheeks burn. My parents were so much smarter than me. How did they get stuck with such a dumb kid? Looking at the ground, I mumbled, “I -- kind of withdrew indefinitely, with an option to return, uh, whenever. That, well -- don’t blame Xan, okay? I probably would have done it anyway. Can’t cut it at school.”
“Dylan, son, you could have talked to us if you were having trouble,” Dad sighed, shaking his head.
Yeah, in retrospect, I fucking got that. Funny thing about hindsight -- the “hind” part. In the throes of my academic fuckery, it was hard to remember my parents wouldn’t murder me for sucking at school. And life.
Wait, this was supposed to be a “meet Xan” thing, not a “let’s grill Dylan about how he fails at life” thing.
I sighed and rested my head in my hands. “Yeah, I realize that now. Maybe you guys just never screwed up like I did -- it’s kind of hard to remember that your parents won’t build a giant laser just to murder you when you’re in the middle of being told beginning French is ‘beyond your ability level’ by your professor.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Xan’s own eyes go wide. “Your professor said that?” he asked.
I took my head out of my hands and looked at him. “Yeah, he said it. On the website where he lists our grades. Thing’s done anonymously, so only I knew it was me, but still...yeah.”
Xan put his arm around me again. Despite my parents’ being there, I leaned into him. I needed the fucking support, okay? This “meet the parents” thing was going horribly -- for reasons I totally didn’t anticipate. I wanted to disappear because of how awkward everything was. Xan, despite kind of disappearing into the background, was doing fine. It was me, as usual, who did the fucking up. Go me. Maybe some food would make things better?
---------
written for 500themes prompt #36 - "Caught in the Act"
next chapter
previous chapter
---------
“So are you sure you’re fucking ready for this?” I asked Xan. I smacked my forehead, because I just realized it didn’t matter if he were ready or not. We couldn’t really avoid this if we wanted to be reasonable people. I may have been going off the planet with a guy I didn’t actually know that well, but I wasn’t entirely senseless. Not entirely -- I would at least try to get my parents’ approval first.
Xan gripped the wheel of the car just a bit tighter. “Am I ready? I hardly think I’m ready to meet your parents -- what if I make a bad impression?”
“They’re pretty easy going. Just don’t mention LOLcats. My dad hates LOLcats -- thinks they’re partly responsible for the shitty grammar in his students’ papers. He’s an English teacher, if I didn’t tell you,” I said. I took a deep breath, starting to feel fucking nervous myself. “Some kid apparently titled his paper ‘I Can Haz Symbolyzm?’ -- yes, really.”
Xan raised an eyebrow. “I have not spent that much time looking at LOLcats, but I know enough about schooling to realize that language used in internet memes doesn’t belong in academic papers.”
I snorted, not quite able to believe I was discussing fucking LOLcats with an actual alien. What a way to be a cultural ambassador for my planet, huh? “Xan, how much do you even know about the human internet?” I wondered.
“I’ve seen enough that if I were to judge your people by the darkest corners of it, I might suggested blasting your planet for the good of the galaxy,” he muttered, though he sounded slightly amused.
I put my head in my hands. “Please don’t judge humanity by the worst of the internet. I would suggest blowing us up, and I live here,” I groaned.
Xan chuckled softly. “You won’t be living here for much longer,” he murmured.
Perhaps “I live here” was a poor choice of words. You agree, author? Oh fuck you -- it’s not like your word choice is always perfect.
I looked out the window, recognizing the neighborhood; we were almost home -- home being where my fucking parents lived. I rested my hand on the divider between the seats. Xan put his hand on top of mine, giving it a little squeeze. “Do you think your parents will like me if I give them my waffle recipe?”
While it might not have been so polite, I giggled. “I think they might find that kind of baffling,” I said.
“Baffling? What is so baffling about waffles?” Xan asked. He sounded very bewildered. “I mean, you liked my waffles.”
I leaned back in my seat. “Well, it’s -- it’s kind of...unexpected that, uh -- someone like you would bother cooking even normal waffles, let alone make your own damn recipe. I mean -- a Prince making his own waffles? That’s more than a little bit unusual.”
“Hmm, I suppose so -- but they’re good waffles,” Xan murmured.
Before I knew it, we pulled into my parents’ gravel driveway, already full of late spring flowers arranged neatly. My dad did all the gardening; my mom didn’t kill plants quite as quickly as she killed otherwise potentially edible foodstuffs.
Xan stopped the car, parking it perfectly, probably because it was a magic spaceship car with a...magnetic targeting system or something. He squeezed my hand, and turned to look at me. Damn, did he look nervous as anything. “Do I look alright? I wonder if I wore the right thing,” he murmured.
He never looked anything but amazing. Today, Xan had worn some of his more human clothes, probably to make a good impression. I wasn’t sure the human outfit would really help all that much, because, uh, he was an alien taking me off-planet. Jeans and a t-shirt wouldn’t exactly change that, but -- it was an effort to show he was willing to try and fit in?
I put my hand on top of his, giving it a little squeeze. “You look good, man,” I muttered. “I don’t think Mom and Dad are going to care what you’re fucking wearing, honestly.” They really probably wouldn’t, even if I somewhat doubted the logic of wearing human clothes.
Xan smiled at me, still looking nervous, and we walked up to the front porch together. My stomach twisted; I hoped there wouldn’t be any impending disaster that I activated specifically by worrying about impending disasters. As far as parents went, mine weren’t disaster-makers, but still -- meeting the parents has too much potential for drama for you to pass up, doesn’t it? You’re going to make something terrible happen, aren’t you?
We held hands as I rang the doorbell. I had a key, but suddenly appearing in the house with my boyfriend seemed like a seriously bad idea. Xan and I waited, my nervousness started to turn into fucking nausea. Puking would not be a good thing for my parents to associate with Xan.
Finally, my mom opened the door for us. She was smiling, and, judging from the twinkle in her brown eyes, it was an actual smile and not an “I am going to murder you with a leaf blower for touching my son” smile.
I waved -- I didn’t know how to behave in this situation, okay? “Hi, Mom,” I muttered. What else was I supposed to do? I had introduced a partner to my parents only once before, and she wasn’t taking me off the fucking planet. And that relationship ended when -- you don’t get to fucking know.
Xan held out his hand for my mom to shake. She took it, and I couldn’t help noticing how he was a whole foot taller than she was. Xan murmured, “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Hathaway.”
“It’s nice to meet you, too, Prince Xan. And you can call me Mary,” Mom murmured.
He blushed, just slightly. “Oh, please, just ‘Xan’ is fine,” he said as he let go of her hand.
“Why don’t you two come inside? Todd should be home any minute now.” Mom gestured at us to come inside, and we followed her into the house. Xan’s grip on my hand tightened, and I tried to give him an “it’s okay, she won’t try to kill you” smile.
Mom lead us into the living room, where Xan and I sat down on the couch.
“Would you like some some tea? I was just about to make a pot,” she said. Her eyes widened in sudden realization. “Oh, I’m sorry. Can you drink tea? It’s not poisonous or anything for you, is it?”
He shook his head, smiling slightly. I could still sense nervousness radiating from him, though. “It’s not poisonous for me -- and that would be lovely,” Xan murmured.
I nodded. “I’d like some tea, too.” I didn’t normally drink tea, but having something to do with my hands would be nice.
Once my mom left the room, Xan turned to me. He was definitely fucking nervous. “She doesn’t seem to outright hate me yet?”
I put my arm around him, pulling him to me. Sure, such a level of physical closeness might not be fucking appropriate, but Xan looked like he might explode from his nerves. And that would be messy.
I said, “Xan, my mom’s not going to hate you.”
He shifted in his seat, looking away from me. “Even -- even though I’m taking you away?”
Before I could answer, Mom returned with the tea. “Oh, don’t you two look so cute together,” she murmured. She handed us our teacups, and I took a sip. At least Mom seemed to approve? “Cute” was a good sign, right?
Xan blushed and took a sip of his own tea. Okay, this was awkward. You got any idea of how to make this situation less fucking awkward? It’s as awkward for you to write as it is for me to read? Really? I fucking doubt that.
Mom smiled at us as she sat down in a nearby armchair. “Tea is one of the few things I can make. I’m not much of a cook, I’m afraid.”
“She burned water,” I said.
Xan looked more than a little bewildered. “I -- don’t think that’s physically possible, Dylan.”
Mom laughed merrily. “Oh, it was. Just trust me on that one.”
At that moment, the doorbell rang. My mom put her teacup down on the coffee table and said, “That must be Todd. I’ll get it.”
She disappeared again. Xan took another sip of his tea. I murmured, “Xan, it’s okay. My mom -- she’s harmless. And my dad, uh, well he might threaten to let newbie jellyfish use you for stinging practice, but he’s harmless in reality.”
That might not be as bad as the pit of fire-breathing porcupines?
My mom returned with my dad, who was smiling but not as much as my mom was. The two of them looked a whole lot like each other; they had the same stupidly-name chocolate brown hair like mine and similar fucking faces. My dad did have my blue-gray eyes, though. I guessed the similarity was that “couples look like each other over time” thing. Would I turn as pretty as Xan if we were together for a long time?
Maybe it was best not to think about the future too fucking much. While I was okay with leaving the damn Earth, too much thinking would send me into a panic, and Xan didn’t need that, not when he was so nervous already.
Xan stood up and offered his hand to my dad. They shook hands, much like he and my mom did. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Hathaway,” he said.
“It’s nice to meet you too, Xan,” my dad answered before breaking the handshake. He didn’t call Xan “Prince,” so I figured Mom must have told him about that.
Dad took the other armchair, and Xan returned to the couch, next to me. My dad crossed his arms over his chest. “So, Dylan, tell me just why you think running away with Xan is a good idea.”
I thought it was actually recklessly stupid, but I was doing it anyway because I had fallen hard for Xan despite logic and reason telling me explosions would result. Possibly literal explosions. I didn’t fucking know.
Taking a deep breath, I said, “Because not going is simply inconceivable. I can’t imagine losing Xan. Staying would be, like, giving up my opportunity to be happy.”
My mom raised an eyebrow. “You are aware that going to another planet won’t magically make your problems go away, right?”
Uh...I was kind of aware? Sort of? A little? Fuck you, fine, I do kind of think my problems will go away on Zimara, at least a little. I mean, it’s not like Xan got tickets for my mental issues so they could board his spaceship, right? Okay, I don’t have an actual ticket either. You know what? Being honest with myself really kind of fucking sucks.
Dad nodded. “Your mom is right, you know. Now, I’m not saying you shouldn’t go, but -- interstellar travel isn’t going to just up and fix everything. I know you’ve been having trouble in school --”
“Hey!” I interrupted, nearly getting up from my seat. “How did you even know that?” Xan took my hand; I felt slightly more settled when he did.
Mom inclined her head. “You always tell us when you’re doing well academically. For months now, you’ve said nothing or evaded our questions. What other conclusion could we draw?”
I felt my cheeks burn. My parents were so much smarter than me. How did they get stuck with such a dumb kid? Looking at the ground, I mumbled, “I -- kind of withdrew indefinitely, with an option to return, uh, whenever. That, well -- don’t blame Xan, okay? I probably would have done it anyway. Can’t cut it at school.”
“Dylan, son, you could have talked to us if you were having trouble,” Dad sighed, shaking his head.
Yeah, in retrospect, I fucking got that. Funny thing about hindsight -- the “hind” part. In the throes of my academic fuckery, it was hard to remember my parents wouldn’t murder me for sucking at school. And life.
Wait, this was supposed to be a “meet Xan” thing, not a “let’s grill Dylan about how he fails at life” thing.
I sighed and rested my head in my hands. “Yeah, I realize that now. Maybe you guys just never screwed up like I did -- it’s kind of hard to remember that your parents won’t build a giant laser just to murder you when you’re in the middle of being told beginning French is ‘beyond your ability level’ by your professor.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Xan’s own eyes go wide. “Your professor said that?” he asked.
I took my head out of my hands and looked at him. “Yeah, he said it. On the website where he lists our grades. Thing’s done anonymously, so only I knew it was me, but still...yeah.”
Xan put his arm around me again. Despite my parents’ being there, I leaned into him. I needed the fucking support, okay? This “meet the parents” thing was going horribly -- for reasons I totally didn’t anticipate. I wanted to disappear because of how awkward everything was. Xan, despite kind of disappearing into the background, was doing fine. It was me, as usual, who did the fucking up. Go me. Maybe some food would make things better?
---------
written for 500themes prompt #36 - "Caught in the Act"
next chapter