AB Chapter 11: I am a baby
For dinner, they had steak—well-done.
That was Michel's preference.
After the main course, Michel even got a pudding and a palm-sized little cake with his name on it and a birthday candle stuck in it, though no one knew where Simon had pulled that from.
"Want to blow out the candle? I can turn off the lights," Simon asked.
Michel shook his head, amused and touched. “No, no need. It's not a birthday cake.”
Simon didn’t know the difference between a birthday cake and a regular one. He nodded, watching as Michel cut the little cake in half and gave him a piece.
Mmm.
Baby gave this to me!
Mr. Bumblebee looked fondly at the small, delicate piece of cake, reluctant to dig in.
It wasn’t until Michel said the cake would go bad if left out that Simon reluctantly began nibbling it slowly, savoring each bite. Before eating, he even took a picture of it with his communicator.
Happily pressing the save button, Simon thought, Other male bees on the star net always show off their flowers, and now it’s finally my turn! Haha!
(So happy!)
After dinner, the bee and flower duo sat on the couch, one on top of the other to save space.
Michel was browsing his phone, looking at stretchy T-shirts on various online shops.
"What do you think of this one? XXL, dark blue." He twisted around to show the screen to Simon beneath him.
Simon glanced at it and said, "I like black. Isn't that okay? The human in the picture... seems to have a body like mine. I should be able to wear it too."
“No way,” Michel said as he turned back to swipe at the screen, muttering with obvious bias, “That’s totally photoshopped. You're the real deal.”
Simon noticed the bias and the corners of his mouth lifted slightly—his otherwise stern face softening.
"This one looks better. They have it in black too. Let's get this one first. When the snow melts, we’ll go out and buy more."
Sitting on Simon’s lap, Michel swayed the flower on his head and tapped to pay and order.
Simon, with one hand hovering near Michel's waist to prevent him from slipping, said:
“I’ll go out myself. I already had the other male bees at the embassy build a hive for me. It’s dangerous outside. In a few days, we’ll move. You shouldn’t go out. It’s dangerous.”
Michel didn’t take it seriously. “Move? Not necessary. And of course I have to go out—I haven’t finished my courses at school.”
Simon frowned. “I don’t want you going out. Can’t you just stay in the room?”
Michel: “…”
He turned around, looking at Simon in surprise. “Don’t tell me on your planet, plant-types can only stay inside the hive and aren’t allowed to go out?”
Simon didn’t reply, but his expression clearly said: Yes.
Michel covered his face: Oh my god!
“How am I supposed to work or live if I can’t go out?” Although Michel wasn’t exactly outgoing, that didn’t mean he was some shut-in. “I’d rather die than be stuck indoors forever! I will not compromise on this!”
“I... I earned a lot of starcoins over the 20 years I was searching for you. I can support you—for life!”
“That’s not the point. I still want to go out. I’m used to normal human life on Earth, Simon.”
“…”
Simon’s expression darkened. When he didn’t smile, his sharp, hard features made him look like a battle-hardened mercenary, with eyes that saw no gender or etiquette—only meat.
“Can we… discuss it?” he asked softly, but with that face, it sounded more like a threat.
Michel’s scalp tingled. After a pause, he shook his head.
“…”
Mr. Bumblebee visibly deflated. His antennae drooped pitifully as he wrapped his strong arms around Michel’s waist and sulked silently.
He muttered repeatedly, “It’s dangerous outside, dangerous outside…” trying to brainwash his flower.
Michel had been scared earlier, but now he just found it funny.
This guy…
Thinking of Simon’s gentleness and kindness over the past few days, Michel figured the big guy was just too nice, and had encountered too many bad people—thus developing hyper-vigilance.
Patting his arm to comfort him, Michel said, “It’s okay. I’ll be careful. Besides, the police protect public safety.”
Simon shook his head: “It’s not the same…”
Michel didn’t get it: “How’s it different?”
Simon didn’t answer. After frowning in silence for a moment, he suddenly picked Michel up, set him aside, and walked into the bedroom, dragging out a big suitcase with loud thuds.
It was Simon’s luggage.
Wait a second…
Was he mad and planning to run away from home?!
Michel stood up in a panic, watching Simon open the suitcase and, from beneath all the items, pull out—
A gun.
Michel: “…” Not just leaving home, but also planning a murder?
He stumbled back and fumbled in his pocket for the emergency alarm, cold sweat breaking out as his wide eyes locked on Simon walking toward him with the weapon.
Just as Michel was about to press the alarm, Simon held the gun out to him.
“It’s dangerous outside.”
Mr. Bumblebee said seriously: “If someone touches your flower, shoot him in the head with this.”
Michel: “…”
Swallowing hard, Michel carefully took the weapon with trembling fingers.
“Unlicensed firearm possession is illegal, and… murder is also illegal!”
“I know.”
Mr. Bumblebee nodded solemnly. “That’s why after you kill him, call me. I’ll take you back to Planet Peipeijia. Don’t worry—you’re a plant-type, a rare species. You won’t be convicted.”
Michel: “……………” Please allow me to take back what I said earlier.
This guy definitely needs a safety course.
No—wait—he needs to learn how to keep others safe, for F**K’s sake!
Michel threw the hot potato back into Simon’s hands and waved frantically, stammering:
“Nope! Nope nope nope! I can’t take this! I’m just a regular student! I don’t want to be treated like a dangerous person!”
Mr. Bumblebee looked very confused and tried to pitch the weapon again.
“8.1mm caliber, particle pulse. Small and light. Baby, it suits you.”
“No no no—”
“Baby, it’s really cute. Just like you.”
Mr. Bumblebee gave a big thumbs-up, flashing a mouthful of white teeth as he said this in broken English.
“You carry it. At school—shoot classmates. Very convenient.”
“………………”
What the hell do you mean ‘shoot classmates’?!
Could you not act like school is some kind of war zone?!
I go to school to learn, okay?!
Michel frantically shook his head in refusal, and Mr. Bumblebee looked deeply puzzled.
He couldn’t understand why his baby didn’t like such a handy self-defense weapon.
After a while, inspiration struck. He took the particle pulse gun, turned, and dug through a bunch of old newspapers under the shoe cabinet, then fetched a can of spray paint from his suitcase.
Under Michel’s terrified gaze, Simon laid the newspapers out flat, placed the gun on top, shook the paint can—
Pssssht—
Pssssht—
One minute later…
A death-Barbie-pink, adorably painted particle pulse gun with bold, black-lettered “I am a baby” emblazoned on the side was freshly crafted and handed back to Michel.
Mr. Bumblebee confidently patted his head: “Now it’s pretty, baby. Like it?”
Baby didn’t want it before—must’ve been because it wasn’t cute enough!
Michel silently looked down at the gun.
Expressionless, he stared at the Barbie-pink pulse gun in his hands that read “I am a baby.”
One thought involuntarily crossed his mind:
The person killed by this thing might not have died from being shot—
They probably died from embarrassment.
[Author's Note] – Mini Theater:
Michel: I go to school to—
Simon: Shoot classmates! (Thumbs up!)
Michel: ………
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