AB Chapter 24: The Second Text Message
Because they slept late, they didn’t get up until noon the next day.
The black-haired youth stood in the small bathroom, brushing his teeth and tousling his messy bed hair in front of the mirror.
His soft black hair always exploded into a mess every morning, and today, to top it off, a small red flower had sprouted among the strands—stretching out its petals like it had just woken up too.
Michel spat out his toothpaste foam, turned on the tap, and splashed cold water on it, trying to tame the unruly thing.
Unfortunately, he failed.
Two tufts of hair stubbornly stuck up beside the flower, curling up proudly like two little black leaves guarding the bloom.
“Well, well... now I really do look like a plant.”
Giving up, Michel lowered his head to rinse his mouth.
Mr. Bumblebee, who had gotten up half an hour earlier, was busy preparing lunch for two in the kitchen.
The sweet smell of baked egg tarts and apple pie wafted in, making Michel’s flat stomach rumble under his blue-and-white striped pajamas.
“Darling! Lunch is ready—!”
Simon’s deep voice called from outside. Hearing him call “darling,” the reflection of the pale-faced young man in the mirror instantly flushed red.
“It’s like we’re married or something…” Michel muttered as he washed his face to wake up. Then he remembered—they were legally married.
The kind where even before he was born, his butt already had the other half’s name and ID number stamped on it. This little seed was already spoken for.
Michel (suddenly realizing): So… are all Pepega people just born into arranged marriages???
“Darling, are you ready yet?” Simon leaned against the door, smiling like a hot-blooded American TV drama lead—gleaming teeth, toned muscles radiating masculine hormones. He peeked into the bathroom at Michel. “You look really cute today!” he said.
Michel silently put down the towel.
Ever since their kiss and heart-to-heart the day before, it was like Simon had flipped some strange switch.
Not only had he greeted Michel with a wake-up kiss first thing in the morning, but the words “cute,” “beautiful,” and “darling” had been coming nonstop from his mouth.
Even when Michel was relieving himself at the toilet, Simon peeked in and complimented him.
“Baby, your aim is so good!”
“Judging by the color, you must be in great health, darling!”
“Hey, and your—”
“…………”
Michel: Shut up! Or I’ll turn around and pee on your leg!
Still, Michel understood.
Back in high school, he’d seen couples who had just gotten together, glued to each other and acting nauseatingly sweet. This was the same.
He might not have tasted the pork of love, but he’d definitely seen enough pigs in love to recognize the signs. So he calmly accepted this macho man’s sticky-sweet love, eating up this muscle-filled “sugar cookie.”
The two sat at a foldable, space-saving dining table in the living room. The thin wooden board barely held all the food—it was practically tilting under the weight.
“You made so much today.”
Michel’s eyes scanned the table: sausage spaghetti, onion soup, apple pie, mini egg tarts, two steaks… and a turkey? Wait—a whole turkey?!
“...Is it Thanksgiving today?”
Michel stared wide-eyed at the golden, greasy roasted turkey.
To be honest, turkey meat wasn’t that great—dry, not tender, with a strange taste if not seasoned properly. Nowadays people used special sauces and brushed it with honey to make it crisp and aromatic. Regardless of how it tasted, it smelled amazing.
“Nope,” Simon shook his head with a radiant smile. “I searched for foods that make people feel happy after eating, and this came up. So I ordered it from a nearby restaurant—plus steak and pie as semi-prepared dishes.”
Michel: “…” It’s the Thanksgiving turkey that makes people happy—not just any random turkey! That’s the whole point!
Sigh…
Seeing Mr. Bumblebee’s big smile, Michel, not wanting to hurt his feelings, sighed internally and smiled back.
“Thank you. I really like it.”
Simon’s smile, already showing eight perfect teeth, gained a ninth.
The sunlight reflected off his beaming face, making Michel’s eye twitch as he lowered his head to eat.
My hornet has lost it.
Since yesterday, it was like Mr. Bumblebee had no other expression besides a goofy smile. One kiss was like two tons of stimulant.
After finishing some pasta and a whole steak, while chewing on the turkey Simon had cut for him, Michel finally spoke:
“When you go to school today, be careful. It’d be best to bring something for self-defense.”
Simon, chewing a huge mouthful of meat, looked up and blinked. “Why?”
“Because…” He couldn’t bring up the text messages, so Michel made up a reason. “Benny said Eric—the guy who gave me trouble before—is planning something again. I’m afraid you might get hurt, so just be careful.”
“Oh.”
Simon nodded while slurping spaghetti, smiling as sweetly as the tomato sauce on it.
“Okay,” he mumbled. “I’ll bring Little Cutie No. 2.”
Little Cutie No. 2 was the particle pulse gun that Mr. Bumblebee had once insisted on giving to Michel, who rejected it flatly.
8.1mm caliber, lightweight and portable, in Barbie pink.
The bold words “I am a baby” were printed on the side.
Perfect for blasting classmates in the head like watermelons.
As for why Simon called it No. 2—well, he considered No. 1 to be sitting across from him, eating spaghetti.
Michel: “…”
The black-haired youth’s face twitched, and Simon, sensing something was off, looked at him nervously.
“Darling, what’s wrong?”
Michel put down his fork, its tines covered in tomato sauce, and exhaled. “Next time… don’t talk about something that terrifying with such a sunny smile.”
Simon tilted his head. “Terrifying?”
Michel: “I just meant for you to be prepared. Why are you bringing such a high-caliber weapon?!”
Simon licked the tomato sauce from his lips and replied matter-of-factly, “To eliminate danger.”
“How exactly?”
“Shoot his head!”
“……”
While aliens had many different anatomies, most still had vulnerable heads. No matter how powerful, losing a head usually meant death. To any combat-focused hornet squad, Simon’s logic made perfect sense.
But to Michel…
Even the tomato sauce in his mouth now tasted bloody.
“Simon, we can’t just go around killing people,” Michel said earnestly. “On Earth, killing is against the law.”
Simon nodded but didn’t seem to take it seriously.
Michel’s face darkened, and he spoke more firmly: “Remember what I said, Simon!”
Seeing that Michel’s flower was unhappy, Simon was startled and immediately nodded seriously, saying “Got it” several times.
Still worried, Michel checked Simon’s pockets before they left the house. Once he confirmed the man only had two stun baton-looking devices, he was satisfied.
Simon even handed one to him, saying, “It’s not lethal, baby. You take one too. It has a child-safety lock.”
Michel glanced at his rugged, justice-radiating face, tucked the device into his backpack, and sternly warned:
“No funny business! Or I won’t let you smell my flower!”
“……”
How—how could he?!
How could a bee live without smelling flowers?!
The threat completely crushed Simon’s spirit. He trudged along beside Michel with a broken-hearted look that screamed, Why would you treat me like this?
Before going to school, Michel deliberately avoided meeting up with Benny at the gate, just in case Eric tried anything. They stopped some distance away to check the surroundings.
When he didn’t see any suspicious people lurking around, he finally relaxed and let Simon lead him into the classroom.
Class. Dismissal.
The day was so boring it was almost suspiciously perfect!
Michel had been on edge all day, his nerves so tight his head started to ache. But no one came to bother them.
Maybe… the text was just some troll’s idle threat?
Just as he relaxed, stepping out of the school building with Simon on their way to the hospital, the phone in his pocket buzzed.
He took it out to check.
The screen lit up with another anonymous text.
From that same strange number.
[Author’s Note]:
Sigh, the dog life is hard.
Comments
Post a Comment