AB Chapter 15: I Had No Choice Before
That night.
Michel deeply reflected on himself:
How could someone who had grown up tough and alone in this world so easily trust and let down his guard around a stranger he’d only known for a week?
And it wasn’t just a lack of wariness.
Just suppressing the overwhelming desire to go over, touch, and snuggle had already drained all his reason.
Like someone suffering from skin hunger.
Or like a chick with imprinting instincts.
Wanting to get close to him, to hug him.
To gaze at him...
Longing to feel safe with him, to absorb the warmth of his body, to be the center of his attention… If they were lovers, maybe that would make sense. Nothing new.
But they weren’t lovers.
Tch.
This can’t go on!
This is not normal!
Ever since the flower bloomed on his head, he had undergone huge changes—he even accepted living with an alien man without much thought?
This isn’t me.
What could be more ridiculous?
I need to wake up!
Yes, wake up.
Michel made a silent resolution.
Then, he rested his head on Mr. Bumblebee’s chest, listening to his heartbeat while enjoying the gentle petal-wiping service. He yawned, tilted his head, and poked the little flower on his head against Simon’s rough chin.
“You missed a spot. Over here.”
He urged.
…Truly tear-inducing.
The thin, black-haired young man stretched his voice lazily, like a cat wagging its tail.
Simon chuckled and nodded.
“Okay.”
His not-so-delicate hand opened carefully, using his fingers to cradle the little flower while dabbing it with nutrient solution using a cotton swab. He then parted Michel’s hair to apply the ointment the doctor prescribed at the base of the flower.
Earlier, Michel had freaked out when Simon put the flower in his mouth before dinner. Simon misunderstood and thought the flower was acting up because of a headache or temper, so he became extra gentle. He even tried to look past Michel’s full forehead and a sliver of nose to guess his mood from his limited view.
The little red flower swayed happily, basking in the cool sensation that spread throughout Michel’s body, soothing the explosive irritation.
It also gave Michel the presence of mind to recall Benny’s words and the problem awaiting him at school tomorrow.
If he didn’t deal with those racist, troublemaking bullies, however comfortable tonight was, tomorrow could be a total disaster.
But asking Mr. Bumblebee for protection? Too embarrassing…
Asking for help, owing favors—maybe it was his upbringing, but these were things Michel absolutely hated doing most.
Maybe I’ll just go to school tomorrow and see what happens. Maybe I won’t even run into Eric Ellis. As long as I stay alert—
Nope! Not gonna work.
Eric Ellis, who despises alien races, would absolutely lie in wait for him. After becoming the talk of the school, Michel would basically have a red light flashing over his head—impossible to miss.
The teachers were already desensitized to bullying and didn’t care much.
Getting drenched with cold water, having garbage or erasers thrown at him, having books shoved in toilets... Any of that could be brushed off with a “just joking” excuse.
“Hey, don’t be such a girl!”
“Can’t you take a joke? Tsk!”
“Ha! Look at his face!”
...
Utter nonsense, but under their malicious grins, it all became “harmless pranks” among “friends,” and others even joined in.
Only those who’ve been hurt know how hopeless school bullying feels.
Michel recalled past experiences and curled his lips in a grim smile. He thought: I really should tell Simon…
“Simon—”
“Baby—”
Michel was startled. He hadn’t expected Simon to also want to say something.
“You first,” said Michel, needing a second to think about how to bring it up.
Simon gave a soft “mm” and asked,
“Baby, you’re going out tomorrow, to school, right?”
Michel nodded, then realized Simon couldn’t see that from this angle, so he quickly added,
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“But it’s dangerous outside,” Simon said.
No kidding, Michel agreed silently. I might get beat to a pulp tomorrow.
Simon continued,
“If it’s really not safe… Can I come with you?”
Michel: “…”
Simon made his pitch enthusiastically:
“I can disguise myself as a human, cover my antennae with a hat. I’m strong. I can protect you! …Baby, your flower is very fragile. It’s tied to your life and has no natural defense—it could be easily hurt. I want to go with you tomorrow, okay?”
Michel: “…”
Okay?
Of course okay!
Did heaven finally see his misery and decide to cut him a break?!
Simon offered to go with him to school!!
Holding back his dancing heart and the “yes!” on the tip of his tongue, Michel cleared his throat, pressed his lips to stop his smile, and sat up to look at Simon.
“Uh, yeah, of course. Of course you can.”
Simon’s amber eyes lit up. He repeated excitedly,
“Are you sure? Baby, you’re sure I can come?”
Michel couldn’t help but laugh and nodded hard,
“Actually, I need you to come. There are some alien-hating extremists at school… I’m afraid—”
Before he could finish, Simon grabbed his thin shoulders.
“I’ll beat them up for you. Baby, just tell me—how long do you want them down for, or should I just—”
Simon made a clean-cutting gesture.
“I’m precise! I’m very professional!”
Mr. Bumblebee looked stern. Maybe it was because this topic involved something he was good at, but his mouth lifted slightly, and his eyes glowed red with excitement.
If Michel wasn’t lying on him, Simon probably would’ve jumped up and demonstrated his combat skills to the flower.
“My old job was just like this—super easy! Especially since humans are weak. No claws, no sharp teeth. I don’t even need weapons to crush their bones!”
“…”
Michel’s mouth twitched.
“Uh… I don’t need them hurt, Simon. Just protecting ourselves is enough.”
He was starting to regret bringing this up. Judging by Simon’s bug armor and casual tendency to pull plasma weapons from his suitcase, Simon’s past job definitely wasn’t as “simple” as he claimed.
If Simon accidentally shot Eric in the head…
Gulp.
Michel swallowed hard, cold sweat beading on his forehead.
He could already imagine being handcuffed with Simon and thrown in jail!
“Listen, Simon.”
Michel pressed on Simon’s face, wide-eyed and anxious.
“Don’t hurt anyone! Absolutely not! As long as they don’t touch us, we won’t fight back. Even if they do bother us, you still can’t go around breaking bones, understand?!”
Mr. Bumblebee’s smile faded, and he pouted in disappointment.
“Oh…”
Michel: “Give me a clear answer!”
Simon’s antennae drooped sadly as he replied pitifully,
“Okay, I understand, Baby… You’re always so strict with me, but gentle with others. That’s not fair…”
Michel: “…”
Not fair?
Hah.
Not the same thing at all!
Those jerks are just bratty bullies. You are a literal walking biological weapon!
Pretending he didn’t hear Simon’s grumbling, Michel straddled him, looking down as he yanked both his little antennae.
Michel: “Also, you have to change what you call me! I told you—stop calling me ‘baby.’ I’m a grown man. If you won’t use my name, at least pick something normal. Come on, change it now.”
Mr. Bumblebee looked aggrieved.
He shook his head furiously.
In his heart, Michel was the precious flower he’d searched for over twenty years to find again—his family and his lover.
Maybe others found the nickname gross or annoying.
But to Simon, he had only seen the baby flower version and the adult Michel. He wasn’t around for anything in between, so none of that counted!
His flower was only one year old!
Calling him “baby” wasn’t even that affectionate in Simon’s view—he wanted something more intimate!
He wished he could keep his lost-and-found treasure in his heart forever, to make up for those two painful, empty decades.
Michel didn’t know what Simon was thinking. With a grimace, he tugged the ends of Simon’s antennae.
Michel: “Change it!”
Simon: “No…”
Michel: “Huh?!”
…Whimper.
Under the tyranny of plant power, the male bee reluctantly gave in after some thought:
“Then… little fafa?”
“Little cutie?”
“Sweetie-er?”
“Baby, which one do you like?”
Michel: “…”
I like the first one best, thanks.
Between his tongue-tied consonants and exaggerated rolled R’s, what was that last one even supposed to be?! Also, why is a tough guy trying so hard to sound cute?
Is this some kind of plan to destroy Earth?
“Can I get more options?” Michel asked, pained.
“No,” Simon said firmly.
He even offered his antennae again like a martyr.
“Ugh… fine, just call me ‘baby,’ then…”
Michel gave up, let go of the antennae, and flopped down to calm his nerves. Mr. Bumblebee was thrilled. He gently wrapped his arms around the expressionless, dead-eyed Michel, satisfied from head to toe.
See? Baby still likes the original nickname best.
Otherwise, why would he agree to go back to it? Even though the other names were way cuter!
He must’ve just been pretending to be annoyed earlier, like when people flirt and play hard to get!
Simon closed his eyes, beaming.
Michel?
He stared silently at the ceiling, heart weary and cold.
I had no choice before. Now, I’m doomed either way.
Chocolate that tastes like crap, or crap that tastes like chocolate—you still have to pick one.
Sigh…
He hugged himself sadly.
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