AB Chapter 4: I'm Thirsty
Chicago, NY (Interstellar Federal Police) Branch Office.
After Simon presented his visa and the interstellar federation registration related to the lost seed incident—
A certain big bumblebee and little flower, who now knew it was all a misunderstanding, were huddled in a room with just one table and four chairs, waiting for their turn to give a statement.
The two who had reported the case were being interviewed first.
Those two were the neighbor who had been scared off by Simon earlier, and Benny.
Originally, it was just the neighbor. But Benny happened to be visiting Michel, and ran into the nervous neighbor waiting outside with NY officers.
When Benny heard that something bad might’ve happened to Michel, his mind went blank. Without getting the full picture, he cooperated with the NY officers to knock on the door, which led to both the "suspect" and "victim" being taken in—what a farcical misunderstanding.
"I'm so dead."
Michel sat in his chair, eyes blank, muttering to himself.
"I can already imagine Aunt Jasmine's twisted expression and roaring when she gets a bail call from the police station. Ha, what could possibly be worse than this?"
Just thinking about it made his headache even worse!
"Baby, I won’t let you die."
Simon kept stealing glances at Michel and slowly, awkwardly scooted over, trying to comfort him clumsily:
"I can help you beat up the one who yelled at you."
"..."
Michel: That’s called assaulting a police officer. Please shut up. Thanks.
But the most troublesome part wasn’t even that. He hadn’t broken any laws—it was all just a misunderstanding. At most, he’d get a scolding.
What really worried him was how to explain his messy background and this giant bumblebee Simon to Aunt Jasmine.
Was he supposed to say:
“Oh, Aunt Jasmine, this is the one who lost me. I’m his lost property.”
“I’m not human. Right, I’m an alien. Look at the flower on my head. Pretty, right?”
“Ahaha.”
Michel was silent for a moment. Why did it feel like if he said all that, Jasmine wouldn’t even bother with a psychologist—she’d send him straight to a hospital.
And not just any hospital—a psychiatric ward.
As he was silently mocking himself, Michel suddenly felt a stabbing pain in his head, like a needle being driven in.
Damn it!
It was happening again.
His whole body shuddered. His ears seemed to turn up their sensitivity uncontrollably—normal people couldn’t hear these things, but to him, they pierced through walls and doors and flooded into his body!
Someone outside was talking on the phone, speaking urgently.
There were loud voices and shouting between a detainee and an officer, the accent thick and hard to make out.
Someone was slamming a keyboard—clack clack—hurried and frantic...
The heater overhead blew hot air onto him with a constant whoosh.
The suffocating heat carried the smell of dust from the vent, disturbing his black hair and the little flower resting weakly atop it.
His thin, dry fingers trembled against the metal table surface from the pain.
It was like motion sickness. The combination of cool touch, smell, and noise was unbearable. Michel choked back his nausea but couldn’t hold it any longer. He curled in on himself, one hand clawing at the table, the other covering his mouth as he dry-heaved.
"Ugh!"
“Ba-Baby!”
Simon jumped to his feet and quickly scooped up the boy who looked like he was about to crawl under the table. His strong arm slipped under Michel’s armpits, pulling him tight against his chest as he looked at the flower on Michel’s head.
When he saw the condition of the thumb-sized red flower, Simon’s eyes widened.
The tiny red bloom, with only five petals, was clearly neglected and had started wilting from long-term stress and his owner's disregard. Having never received the care it needed, it had barely bloomed before beginning to fade.
It drooped sadly, one petal already withered and on the verge of falling off.
“So thirsty——”
Michel, dazed, scratched weakly at his throat.
“I can’t breathe, don’t touch me——”
Water.
He needed water!
The distressed young man tried to push Simon away.
Simon frowned and restrained Michel’s struggling, adjusting his posture as he bent down and gently lifted the flower on Michel’s head with his nose, sniffing it carefully.
After gathering some kind of information, Simon’s face changed dramatically.
He growled in anger, barely restraining himself:
“This just bloomed today! You’re still in the danger period—do you understand?!”
“Ugh.”
Michel couldn’t even understand what he was saying at this point, only able to make faint, strained sounds.
“Water... I need water——”
“...”
Listening to his baby’s weakening breath, Simon gritted his teeth. His heart felt like it had been punched through.
After a moment of silence, he repositioned them again. His left hand reached to the side of his waist and pressed a recessed button. A shell-like part of his exosuit popped open, revealing a small, opaque silver spray bottle about the size of an egg.
He’d prepared for the worst before coming.
After studying what humans on this blue planet looked like and how they lived, Simon had even considered that his flower seed might’ve been mistaken for something strange and had its flower cut off.
Or maybe it hadn’t even survived the sprouting phase and had mutated.
But no matter what had happened to his flower seed, he would never give up on it!
This is my responsibility. I’ll take care of it. I’ll protect it. I won’t let it suffer again.
Every night, those male bees who fell asleep clutching their torn breeding pouches—made that vow.
Simon unscrewed the cap, cradled the nosebleeding, vein-bulging Michel, and wedged him between himself and the table.
Freeing up his hands, he carefully spread the fingers of his left hand, avoiding the strands of hair, and gently grasped the delicate stem of the wilted flower on Michel’s head.
The little flower, held up between his fingers, seemed to gaze pitifully up at Simon.
With his right hand, he gripped the small spray bottle, bit off the cap, carefully adjusted the distance, and pressed the spray pump...
Jasmine was Michel’s guardian.
Everyone at the NY precinct knew she had a close relationship with a sweet Asian boy, practically raising him like her own son.
So when the officers checked the "Emergency Contact" field and saw her listed, they called her immediately.
When she got the call and learned that her boy had been caught up in an alien incident—
She nearly dragged her partner by force into the patrol car and raced back to the station!
To old NY officer Jasmine, aliens were terrifying.
After all, the NY precinct dealt with them constantly.
In every case she had handled, these aliens were either involved in criminal trafficking rings or used their bizarre weapons and terrifying bodies to hurt innocent people.
If poor Michel had become a victim like that...
Damn it!
Jasmine jumped out of the car, slammed the door, and stormed into the precinct, heading straight for the interrogation room.
“Creeeak——”
The overly heavy, reinforced metal door swung open, and the people inside the room locked eyes with Jasmine.
When Jasmine saw what was happening inside, her hand tightened on the doorknob.
Her little angel—
Now a grown Michel sat slumped in the chair, his dark eyes blank, black hair wet. His malnourished pale face was just as bloodless as ever—
No!
There was color.
Jasmine saw the traces of wiped blood under his nose.
Michel had been hit!
Fury erupted in Jasmine’s heart. Her once-gentle eyes sharpened as she scanned for the one who hurt her child.
She quickly locked onto the suspect.
A terrifying male bee from the planet Peipeijia stood behind Michel. He was so huge and intimidating, nearly touching the ceiling!
Compared to him, poor Michel looked as fragile as a twig.
But that wasn’t even what shocked her most.
Aliens looked weird—fine, whatever.
But what the hell was this bastard doing?!
He was spraying something on Michel’s head!
And he’d stuck a fake flower in his hair!
This was abuse!
This was humiliation!
This was violence!
Jasmine couldn’t even control her voice as she shrieked:
“What the hell are you doing——!”
Simon glanced at the strange human woman in the doorway. He had no interest in Earthlings. After quickly sizing her up, he turned his attention back to the nearly-dead little flower on his delicate baby’s head.
The spray continued: pshh pshh.
What was he doing?
Hmph.
Stupid Earthling.
Simon thought, perfectly matter-of-fact:
Of course I’m watering my flower.
[Author's Note]:
[Mini Theater]
Simon pressed his nose to the center of the little red flower and sniffed.
Michel blushed.
Why was he suddenly feeling... weird?
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