I Prefer the Mind Control Rewrite - Chapter 22
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“Wow, outer space is so...full of stars,” I murmured as I stared out the viewscreen. “It looks like a giant version of those old school screensavers.”
The view really did look like a screensaver, especially as it was a screen and not an actual window. Real windows would be fucking structural nightmares.
Xan chuckled as he put an arm around my shoulder. “I suppose it does look a bit like a screensaver, but I think it’s more accurate to say screensavers look like space. After all, the universe invented stars long before it invented computers.”
I looked at him, smiling. “Hey, that might not be true. For all we know, the universe, us included, is some giant alien computer program. Which would mean computers were invented before the universe.”
Hey, my theory is actually kind of true. After all, I’m fictional, and being a character in a story is kind of like being in a giant alien videogame. The fact my universe isn’t real would explain why the aliens are gorgeous humanoids, when that’s really rather unlikely. What? It is unlikely and you know it, author.
Xan frowned in thought. “I suppose we could be virtual beings, but the idea makes me a bit uneasy.”
Shit, he wouldn’t like to learn he’s not so much virtual as fictional. I guess that’s a secret I have to keep to myself, huh? You know, that’s going to be fucking difficult. Being aware of the fourth wall really sucks sometimes.
I learned into Xan and said, “Think of it this way -- even if we are virtual, you’ve got one hell of a programmer. I mean, you’re totally gorgeous. Plus, the chances of us being somehow unreal are pretty slim, yeah?”
The chances might be slim, but even a slim chance means a more than zero probability -- in our case, Xan and I aren’t fucking real. I feel bad lying, but I would rather not break my boyfriend’s brain. One broken brain -- mine -- between the two of us is more than enough.
“You’re right,” he said. “And you feel real to me.” He smiled, and I neglected to say how virtual beings probably felt perfectly real to each other.
When Xan leaned in to kiss me, I forgot about the damn fourth wall. I let my lips play against his, already wanting more. He had this ridiculous effect on me where a simple kiss was almost never enough. How could he want me so fucking much when he came from a planet of ridiculously sexy people?
This worry bothered me enough for me to pull away from him. Xan’s forehead creased, as if he couldn’t understand why I broke away from him. I leaned back in my seat.
“What do you see in me?” I sighed.
“Didn’t we already go over this, Dylan?” Xan asked. He reached for me, but I brushed his hand away.
“We did -- I know what you like in me as a person, but why would anybody from your people be interested in a human being? I mean -- we’re all ugly compared to you guys,” I muttered, feeling a sick, swooping sensation in the pit of my stomach. I looked at the silvery. curving walls of the spaceship, avoiding Xan’s eyes.
Xan grasped my chin and forced me to look at him. I briefly thought about trying to pull away, but I didn’t. His eyes shined with some emotion I couldn’t quite read -- it looked fucking genuine, though, whatever it was. He said, “It -- works differently, when Zimarans look at humans. We don’t see you as ugly, just...different. I know how humans value symmetry in their mates, and we do, too, but it’s a -- geometrically different symmetry. You happen to have a face that fits our ideals quite well. Zimaran shapes follow different laws than more Earthly geometry. Besides, not everyone on Earth thinks my species is so beautiful.”
“Different geometry? Is that why all your furniture is so fucking odd?” I muttered. “And how can anyone not think your people are drop dead gorgeous?” I shook my head -- that didn’t fucking compute.
He shrugged. “That would probably explain the furniture. As for why we’re not universally gorgeous? People have different tastes. Some humans think Zimarans are a bit too much like what you call the uncanny valley. Something’s ‘off’ about us.”
I took a good look at Xan. I guessed if I really wanted to, I could see something a bit odd about him, but it was the hot kind of odd and not the creepy kind of odd. Maybe I just had weird tastes, but Preston hadn’t seemed to mind when he had his ill-fated encounter with Xan. Holy shit, did that end up as one giant clusterfuck.
My chest tightened as I thought of Preston. Damn, I was gonna miss him -- fucking missed him already, if I were being honest with myself. He had been my best friend pretty much since I got to that college. I loved Xan, but he wasn’t a Preston clone -- couldn’t exactly use him to replace the unique void left by my former roommate. My eyes stung; fuck, I was not about to start crying.
Unfortunately, Xan fuckng noticed. “Are you alright?” he asked.
I tried to choke back my stupid tears -- didn’t want them spilling down my face because of Xan’s romantic rival when he was right in front of me. “I’m -- I’m fine,” I choked out, my voice cracking. It was a classic instance of my voice saying how I wasn’t fine. Dammit.
“You’re not fine,” Xan said. He grasped my chin again. “What is it?”
I sighed, not wanting to reveal the source of this particular angst. “I -- I...miss Preston, okay?” I sighed. “Things -- they ended awkwardly, when I left. ”
It didn’t get much more fucking awkward than having your former roommate declare his love for you. The worst thing about that? There was some stupid, stupid part of me that wished I could return his feelings in the way he wanted. I couldn’t, obviously, but I didn’t want to tell Xan that I even thought about wishing I could love Preston properly.
“I can’t imagine that things with Preston wouldn’t be awkward,” Xan murmured. “What? Did you think I would be mad at you for that?” He still didn’t let go of me.
“Yeah, kinda,” I admitted. I didn’t quite meet Xan’s eyes.
Xan offered a small smile. “Well, I’m not going to get upset, so don’t you worry,” he said.
Being told not to worry and actually not worrying were two different fucking things. Why was I so damn worried, though? And what exactly was I even worried about? Hopefully, my jumbled thoughts would sort themselves out when we actually touched down on Zimara.
“Thanks,” I murmured, somewhat hesitantly.
He finally let go of me. I smiled at him, weakly. Why wasn’t I happier? Why was I so fucking nervous? Something bugged me -- something I couldn’t quite identify -- and I just couldn’t get myself to settle.
When Xan cupped my cheek in his hand and pulled me into another kiss, that helped. I did the best I could to lose myself in the kiss, letting warmth flood my body. Slowly, ever so fucking slowly, that warmth turned into something like excitement for landing on Zimara. From what he had told me earlier, we would be arriving “soon,” though “soon” could mean pretty much fucking anything.
I gasped when Xan slipped a hand under my shirt -- damn, that felt good. At that moment, for no particular reason, Preston’s face flashed through my mind. I blinked, blaming it on my brain just randomly being a douchebag. Unfortunately, I stopped kissing Xan with as much energy when my ex roommate’s face appeared in my mind.
And he fucking noticed, pulling away from me. “Dylan, is something else the matter?”
“My brain is a douchebag,” I muttered, not meeting his eyes. That wasn’t a fucking lie, at least?
“You’re still adjusting,” Xan said. He gazed up towards the ceiling, leaning back in his chair.
I leaned back in my chair -- Xan and I weren’t touching, and I was strangely okay with that. What the fuck? Normally, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other, but even our kisses on the spaceship had been missing something. It made no fucking sense because we loved each other.
But I loved Preston more -- shut up, douchebag brain.
That could not be fucking right. It just couldn’t be. Hey, author, would you like to reassure me that I’m not in ridiculous amounts of love with my former -- and sexually incompatible -- roommate? You’re in my brain, after all. Surely you can tell me that’s wrong? That’s just random neurons misfiring, right? You’re really not going to say anything? Fuck you. Fuck you so much.
I sighed and hugged my arms to my chest. Right now, I needed the fucking warmth because my brain was being an intolerable douchebag. In ordinary circumstances, I would ask Xan for a hug, but the problem seemed to be that I loved someone who wasn’t him -- a hug from him wouldn’t help.
What I needed was -- I didn’t fucking know. Obviously, this apparent love for Preston was just my brain panicking because I was about to land on an alien planet. Anybody untrained would be a bit weirded out by that, right? Dammit, I wished he hadn’t told me he loved me. I knew -- this was just a weird manifestation of guilt for having Preston love me when I couldn’t love him back properly, right?
“Yeah, I’m definitely still adjusting,” I muttered. “That’s gotta be it. Obviously.” I rested my chin in my hands and kinda just stared at nothing. “Sorry, I’m not more, like, hyper or something.”
Xan actually chuckled at that, but it was a warm and friendly sound. “You don’t have to be anything -- I’m just glad you decided to come with me. Space travel really can be hard on the mind, especially if you’re not raised to think of it as a normal thing.”
“Normal people in the National States? Yeah, we’re not exactly rocketing to the moon on a daily basis,” I said, the barest trace of a laugh in my voice. “And humans haven’t exactly been going to Zimara regularly, either. I’m half-surprised President Bradley didn’t find out about my travel and make a big deal about it.”
Oh shit, did saying that mean she was going to freak out? Well, I would be on Zimara soon -- she couldn’t do much to me once I was there, right? Right? I’m tempting fate, aren’t I? I am? Great. That’s just fucking great. Let’s hope this little bit here is more red herring and less actual foreshadowing. I don’t want to tangle with President Psycho.
“I’m a bit surprised she didn’t, too,” Xan sighed. “She is a -- difficult person.”
I turned to look at Xan. “‘Difficult person’ is a nice way to put it.”
His eyes sparkled. “I’ve heard some choice terms for her.”
Thinking about President Georgia Bradley had pushed thoughts of Preston out of my mind -- mostly. I did remember some of the things he had said about her. Shaking my head, I looked over at Xan and his sparkling bronze eyes -- they were all I needed.
That smile? His gorgeous face? The fact he wanted me? How good I felt when I was with him? These would give me happiness. I didn’t need Preston, didn’t need his love or his company. My douchebag brain was wrong, and it was not gonna wreck things -- I wouldn’t fucking let it.
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written for 500themes prompt #246 - "A Magical Time"
next chapter
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“Wow, outer space is so...full of stars,” I murmured as I stared out the viewscreen. “It looks like a giant version of those old school screensavers.”
The view really did look like a screensaver, especially as it was a screen and not an actual window. Real windows would be fucking structural nightmares.
Xan chuckled as he put an arm around my shoulder. “I suppose it does look a bit like a screensaver, but I think it’s more accurate to say screensavers look like space. After all, the universe invented stars long before it invented computers.”
I looked at him, smiling. “Hey, that might not be true. For all we know, the universe, us included, is some giant alien computer program. Which would mean computers were invented before the universe.”
Hey, my theory is actually kind of true. After all, I’m fictional, and being a character in a story is kind of like being in a giant alien videogame. The fact my universe isn’t real would explain why the aliens are gorgeous humanoids, when that’s really rather unlikely. What? It is unlikely and you know it, author.
Xan frowned in thought. “I suppose we could be virtual beings, but the idea makes me a bit uneasy.”
Shit, he wouldn’t like to learn he’s not so much virtual as fictional. I guess that’s a secret I have to keep to myself, huh? You know, that’s going to be fucking difficult. Being aware of the fourth wall really sucks sometimes.
I learned into Xan and said, “Think of it this way -- even if we are virtual, you’ve got one hell of a programmer. I mean, you’re totally gorgeous. Plus, the chances of us being somehow unreal are pretty slim, yeah?”
The chances might be slim, but even a slim chance means a more than zero probability -- in our case, Xan and I aren’t fucking real. I feel bad lying, but I would rather not break my boyfriend’s brain. One broken brain -- mine -- between the two of us is more than enough.
“You’re right,” he said. “And you feel real to me.” He smiled, and I neglected to say how virtual beings probably felt perfectly real to each other.
When Xan leaned in to kiss me, I forgot about the damn fourth wall. I let my lips play against his, already wanting more. He had this ridiculous effect on me where a simple kiss was almost never enough. How could he want me so fucking much when he came from a planet of ridiculously sexy people?
This worry bothered me enough for me to pull away from him. Xan’s forehead creased, as if he couldn’t understand why I broke away from him. I leaned back in my seat.
“What do you see in me?” I sighed.
“Didn’t we already go over this, Dylan?” Xan asked. He reached for me, but I brushed his hand away.
“We did -- I know what you like in me as a person, but why would anybody from your people be interested in a human being? I mean -- we’re all ugly compared to you guys,” I muttered, feeling a sick, swooping sensation in the pit of my stomach. I looked at the silvery. curving walls of the spaceship, avoiding Xan’s eyes.
Xan grasped my chin and forced me to look at him. I briefly thought about trying to pull away, but I didn’t. His eyes shined with some emotion I couldn’t quite read -- it looked fucking genuine, though, whatever it was. He said, “It -- works differently, when Zimarans look at humans. We don’t see you as ugly, just...different. I know how humans value symmetry in their mates, and we do, too, but it’s a -- geometrically different symmetry. You happen to have a face that fits our ideals quite well. Zimaran shapes follow different laws than more Earthly geometry. Besides, not everyone on Earth thinks my species is so beautiful.”
“Different geometry? Is that why all your furniture is so fucking odd?” I muttered. “And how can anyone not think your people are drop dead gorgeous?” I shook my head -- that didn’t fucking compute.
He shrugged. “That would probably explain the furniture. As for why we’re not universally gorgeous? People have different tastes. Some humans think Zimarans are a bit too much like what you call the uncanny valley. Something’s ‘off’ about us.”
I took a good look at Xan. I guessed if I really wanted to, I could see something a bit odd about him, but it was the hot kind of odd and not the creepy kind of odd. Maybe I just had weird tastes, but Preston hadn’t seemed to mind when he had his ill-fated encounter with Xan. Holy shit, did that end up as one giant clusterfuck.
My chest tightened as I thought of Preston. Damn, I was gonna miss him -- fucking missed him already, if I were being honest with myself. He had been my best friend pretty much since I got to that college. I loved Xan, but he wasn’t a Preston clone -- couldn’t exactly use him to replace the unique void left by my former roommate. My eyes stung; fuck, I was not about to start crying.
Unfortunately, Xan fuckng noticed. “Are you alright?” he asked.
I tried to choke back my stupid tears -- didn’t want them spilling down my face because of Xan’s romantic rival when he was right in front of me. “I’m -- I’m fine,” I choked out, my voice cracking. It was a classic instance of my voice saying how I wasn’t fine. Dammit.
“You’re not fine,” Xan said. He grasped my chin again. “What is it?”
I sighed, not wanting to reveal the source of this particular angst. “I -- I...miss Preston, okay?” I sighed. “Things -- they ended awkwardly, when I left. ”
It didn’t get much more fucking awkward than having your former roommate declare his love for you. The worst thing about that? There was some stupid, stupid part of me that wished I could return his feelings in the way he wanted. I couldn’t, obviously, but I didn’t want to tell Xan that I even thought about wishing I could love Preston properly.
“I can’t imagine that things with Preston wouldn’t be awkward,” Xan murmured. “What? Did you think I would be mad at you for that?” He still didn’t let go of me.
“Yeah, kinda,” I admitted. I didn’t quite meet Xan’s eyes.
Xan offered a small smile. “Well, I’m not going to get upset, so don’t you worry,” he said.
Being told not to worry and actually not worrying were two different fucking things. Why was I so damn worried, though? And what exactly was I even worried about? Hopefully, my jumbled thoughts would sort themselves out when we actually touched down on Zimara.
“Thanks,” I murmured, somewhat hesitantly.
He finally let go of me. I smiled at him, weakly. Why wasn’t I happier? Why was I so fucking nervous? Something bugged me -- something I couldn’t quite identify -- and I just couldn’t get myself to settle.
When Xan cupped my cheek in his hand and pulled me into another kiss, that helped. I did the best I could to lose myself in the kiss, letting warmth flood my body. Slowly, ever so fucking slowly, that warmth turned into something like excitement for landing on Zimara. From what he had told me earlier, we would be arriving “soon,” though “soon” could mean pretty much fucking anything.
I gasped when Xan slipped a hand under my shirt -- damn, that felt good. At that moment, for no particular reason, Preston’s face flashed through my mind. I blinked, blaming it on my brain just randomly being a douchebag. Unfortunately, I stopped kissing Xan with as much energy when my ex roommate’s face appeared in my mind.
And he fucking noticed, pulling away from me. “Dylan, is something else the matter?”
“My brain is a douchebag,” I muttered, not meeting his eyes. That wasn’t a fucking lie, at least?
“You’re still adjusting,” Xan said. He gazed up towards the ceiling, leaning back in his chair.
I leaned back in my chair -- Xan and I weren’t touching, and I was strangely okay with that. What the fuck? Normally, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other, but even our kisses on the spaceship had been missing something. It made no fucking sense because we loved each other.
But I loved Preston more -- shut up, douchebag brain.
That could not be fucking right. It just couldn’t be. Hey, author, would you like to reassure me that I’m not in ridiculous amounts of love with my former -- and sexually incompatible -- roommate? You’re in my brain, after all. Surely you can tell me that’s wrong? That’s just random neurons misfiring, right? You’re really not going to say anything? Fuck you. Fuck you so much.
I sighed and hugged my arms to my chest. Right now, I needed the fucking warmth because my brain was being an intolerable douchebag. In ordinary circumstances, I would ask Xan for a hug, but the problem seemed to be that I loved someone who wasn’t him -- a hug from him wouldn’t help.
What I needed was -- I didn’t fucking know. Obviously, this apparent love for Preston was just my brain panicking because I was about to land on an alien planet. Anybody untrained would be a bit weirded out by that, right? Dammit, I wished he hadn’t told me he loved me. I knew -- this was just a weird manifestation of guilt for having Preston love me when I couldn’t love him back properly, right?
“Yeah, I’m definitely still adjusting,” I muttered. “That’s gotta be it. Obviously.” I rested my chin in my hands and kinda just stared at nothing. “Sorry, I’m not more, like, hyper or something.”
Xan actually chuckled at that, but it was a warm and friendly sound. “You don’t have to be anything -- I’m just glad you decided to come with me. Space travel really can be hard on the mind, especially if you’re not raised to think of it as a normal thing.”
“Normal people in the National States? Yeah, we’re not exactly rocketing to the moon on a daily basis,” I said, the barest trace of a laugh in my voice. “And humans haven’t exactly been going to Zimara regularly, either. I’m half-surprised President Bradley didn’t find out about my travel and make a big deal about it.”
Oh shit, did saying that mean she was going to freak out? Well, I would be on Zimara soon -- she couldn’t do much to me once I was there, right? Right? I’m tempting fate, aren’t I? I am? Great. That’s just fucking great. Let’s hope this little bit here is more red herring and less actual foreshadowing. I don’t want to tangle with President Psycho.
“I’m a bit surprised she didn’t, too,” Xan sighed. “She is a -- difficult person.”
I turned to look at Xan. “‘Difficult person’ is a nice way to put it.”
His eyes sparkled. “I’ve heard some choice terms for her.”
Thinking about President Georgia Bradley had pushed thoughts of Preston out of my mind -- mostly. I did remember some of the things he had said about her. Shaking my head, I looked over at Xan and his sparkling bronze eyes -- they were all I needed.
That smile? His gorgeous face? The fact he wanted me? How good I felt when I was with him? These would give me happiness. I didn’t need Preston, didn’t need his love or his company. My douchebag brain was wrong, and it was not gonna wreck things -- I wouldn’t fucking let it.
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written for 500themes prompt #246 - "A Magical Time"
next chapter