Chapter 107 : Are You In Love With The Boy?
Chapter 107: Are You In Love With The Boy?
Gideon
“I am right here, you know?” I grumbled as I flipped another pancake.
“Shush, darling. Can't you see that I am talking with your roommate? Or should I say "your baby?” She asked.
“I see Lucious has told you a lot.” I groaned.
Punching the bastard is too merciful, I am going to whip his ass and cancel his membership for a week. On second thought, lets add a raw fucking on top of that.
“Nothing more than I should know.” She replied with an accusing tone.
“I didn't tell you to avoid having to deal with this, I am just helping him get back on his feet and he just wants to experience his teen years again with someone to keep him in check. Isn't that right, baby?”
“Yes, daddy.” Callan replied in a small voice.
I have rarely seen him embarrassed but for once his cheeks have caught on a bit of red.
“This is nothing I haven't seen before.” She clinically said.
“Remember that I published several articles on that matter. Of course, for those people there is general sex involved in this link.”
“Hmm, maybe it is better if I let you have lunch together.” Callan offered shyly.
“You can leave if you are uncomfortable, baby.” I said with a warm smile to him.
It is probably for the best that I deal with my mother alone.
“I will call you when we are finished.” I added.
“Bye, Evelyn. Nice to see you again.” He blurted, jumping on his feet.
“Bye, daddy.” He yelled from the door.
I swear I have never seen anyone move so fast to leave my apartment.
“He is cute,” my mother said appreciatively when he closed the door behind him.
“Why didn't you cut the bullshit and talk about why you came here?” I asked briskly.
“Language, darling.” She scolded me.
“You know perfect well why I am here.”
“I don't want to talk about him.”
No need to say precisely who, she is not stupid enough to say her name.
“I don't know what Lucious has told you but I have the situation completely under control.” I added.
“Control is the last thing you have right now, which is kind of surprising for a dominant.” She rants.
“Although, you just need it when you engage in a scene, not in real life. Lucious on the other hand, needs to have complete control when he sees chaos creep in. Did you really think he wouldn't call me?”
“Honestly, I didn't think nor care about what he would do.”
“Here you go again, isolating yourself.” She sighed.
“I thought you knew by now that that is not a solution.”
“I have nothing against Lucious's or anyone’s company as long as they keep their mouths shut on this.” I replied very coldly.
“Some subjects are better left alone.”
“Your stubbornness not to speak about him is not doing you any good. Quite the opposite, it is the unhealthiest thing to do.”
“I don't care.” I growled.
“If you only came to me so I would talk about him, you are wasting your time.”
I wish she would just leave, already, the memories are creeping into my conscious mind.
“Don't be upset, I am not the enemy.” She replied, lifting her hands in the air in the surrendering gesture.
“I am just worried. Are you in love with the boy?”
Of course, we had to come back to my baby.
“Yes, I think so.” I sighed.
“Buth nothing can ever happen.” I quickly added with a defensive tone.
“You should stop focusing on how much they have in common and try to see the difference between the two of them. Callan is actually on the path to begin his new life.”
“He doesn't want a stable relationship and that is not even the point. I am not capable of giving him what he needs.”
This is starting to wear me down and like each time we talk about him, images I have repressed to the deepest parts of my brain resurface. For all her qualifications, doesn't she realize that this kind of talk actually reminds me why I shouldn't be in love with anyone?
“Thirteen years later and you still believe that you are responsible for what happened to him. Don't you remember? He said you were the best thing that ever happened to him?”
How could I forget the words? Even if I haven't opened the box in my bedroom and read the letter in a while, its contents will be forever imprinted on my mind.
“Please, mother, stop.” I said as I felt tears pooling in my eye.
“You know what I am going to say.” She said gently.
How could I? It is not your fault that he died, she drilled that sentence into my skull so many times during all those years.
“Then, don't say it.”
“I thought you were doing better since you became dominant but in the end, you are still afraid to have sex as long as there are feelings involved. Just as much as before.” She said instead.
She is right of course, but by now, I am feeling too numb to properly react.
“Please, leave.” I whispered.
“You would have so many things to give to a boy like him.”
She just doesn't get it because she can't see the bad in me. The only thing I can give to him if we get in a relationship is sorrow and death.
“At least tell me why you are keeping him around if you don't plan on being his boyfriend or his dominant?” She asked when I didn't say anything.
“Because I like to see him smile.” I replied.
“Besides, it would be too upsetting for him to make him go elsewhere, as you know very well. I will help him find a job and a place, this arrangement won't last forever.”
“Perhaps, you will finally come to your senses and eventually see what you are missing.” She replied, annoyed.
She doesn't like that I am the only one she can't fix, she just doesn't realize that I don't want her to fix me. Her or one of the numerous colleagues she had me see.
“Please, give father a kiss from me.” I told her weakly before she left.
By that time, I noticed that none of us even ate the food, and I am not hungry anymore. I throw everything away and clean the kitchen before going back to my room. In the first drawer of my cupboard, I took out the locked wooden box and grabbed the key in my pocket to open it. Inside, there is a faded picture and a letter. The picture showed a boy with blonde hair and blue eyes. It was amazing how much he resembled Callan, I said to myself for the umpteenth time. The boy in it has a little smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. That is how I instantly knew when I saw my baby in my old office.
I was already crying when I started to read the letter.
‘Dear, Gideon. You are the best thing that ever happened to me.’
The letter was stained with so many dried tears, I was surprised the text is still readable. As I have done so many times before, I tried to find a logical explanation behind the words I know by heart. But there is none. There is just me, this is just my fault.