AB Chapter 19: Father and Son
“…In the spring of the year 4057, an Egyptian archaeological team discovered what appeared to be the handwritten notes of the legendary Pharaoh Yofar Memphis during an excavation and study.”
“…”
“This excavation yielded highly significant historical data, updating our current records and confirming that the Conqueror King Memphis II had an affectionate name for his queen—‘Bastet,’ the goddess of the moon.”
“…”
“Historians now speculate that Pharaoh Yofar Memphis II was deeply enamored with his queen, a stunningly beautiful woman. Unfortunately, due to the Great Cataclysm, the statues and royal tombs vanished, and we are temporarily unable to reconstruct the face of this mysterious Queen Bastet. Still, as a land of ancient civilizations, Egypt continues to be rich in legendary culture, such as…”
The elderly professor droned on with half-lidded eyes, playing some documentary slides with little interest. A few scattered students were still taking diligent notes.
When the bell rang, the professor glanced at the time, took a sip of water, and stood.
“I'll upload the reading list and recommended papers to my blog. You can download them yourselves. That’s it for today’s class…”
The professor packed up his laptop and books and was the first to leave. The silent classroom instantly came to life.
Screech—
Chairs scraped against the floor, and unlike usual, there was barely any laughter. The students bolted out like something was about to bite their delicate behinds.
Michel had just capped his pen and closed his notebook when he looked up—only to see that the classroom now held just him, Benny with a strange expression, and Simon standing behind him.
“Did the school cafeteria upgrade to a five-star chef today?”
Michel asked with surprise.
“Not really…” Benny shot a complicated look at the man towering behind Michel. “I think… they just didn’t want to end up as ingredients on that chef’s menu.”
After all, being stared at with those predator eyes for two hours—who wouldn’t run for it?
If he weren’t Michel’s friend, he’d be the first out the door!
“What?”
“Ha, haha…” Benny laughed awkwardly and waved his hand. “Nothing! I meant—we should head to lunch. We’ve got the mandatory gun license test this afternoon, right? Gotta fuel up!”
In this era, passing a gun license test was required for all M-country citizens.
Their school was certified to administer it—while not free, it was still cheaper than doing it elsewhere.
Michel nodded. He pulled a honey-flavored lollipop from his pocket, unwrapped it, and stood on tiptoe to offer it to the big yellow bumblebee-looking guy, who clearly hadn’t been paying attention.
“Here, have this. Your favorite honey flavor.”
Simon blinked his eyes—eyes intense enough to wither most people. He looked at the sweet, then at the baby stretching up to him. His tight lips curled slightly upward, and he opened his mouth to take the lollipop.
“Baby, take off your hat. I’ll spray some nutrients on your flower—it’s cold outside, your head might hurt.”
“Okay.”
Michel removed his hat and lowered his head. Simon gently pinched the delicate red flower growing from Michel’s head and sprayed it with a special plant nutrient mist.
The water droplets made the fragile flower droop under the weight, but the petals shimmered with a little rainbow in the sunlight.
Golden-brown eyes reflected that rainbow. Overcome with fondness, the bumblebee bent down and lightly kissed the flower.
Tender. Deep.
A man’s affectionate anticipation and devotion.
The dark-haired youth remained unaware.
But to a certain bystander—
Benny (ΩДΩ): …Damn it, I need a girlfriend. For real. Sniff.
While Benny grumbled to himself, Michel clenched his fists, holding back a whimper and exhaled deeply.
The flower on his head was connected to him.
When sprayed with the mist, the flower felt nourished and happy—and so did he. That tingling refreshment seeped from his scalp into his brain like a budding sprout breaking through the soil.
The fatigue from the long, dull lecture was instantly wiped away. Michel felt reinvigorated.
The sensation was so intense, it made him want to curl his toes and collapse into something soft.
It was… hard to describe.
Almost like…
Post-coital bliss?
The pale-skinned youth blushed furiously at his own wandering thoughts. After recovering, he nonchalantly nudged the big bumblebee.
“Let’s go. Cafeteria time… Benny, ahem, time to move.”
“Mm.”
Simon looked thoughtfully at Michel’s red cheeks, his smile deepening as he held the boy’s hand and nodded obediently.
“Oh…”
Benny followed them, feeling both impressed and burnt by the glow radiating from the couple.
He watched his buddy being led by the hand—one tall, one taller, one slim, one bulky. The more he looked, the more… harmonious they seemed.
Wait…
Harmonious?!
2.4 meters and 1.8 meters—is this what people call the cutest height difference now?!
Benny: (Doubting life.jpg)
The school cafeteria offered a wide variety of food.
Fried items, beans in sauce, pasta, large meat steaks, peppered mashed potatoes, creamy onion soup, drinks, fruits, and salads.
Dishes and utensils were in sterilizers for self-service. After use, students could leave them at the table for cafeteria staff to collect.
There were three floors. Lab-heavy majors used the second floor—super clean and slightly OCD in decor.
Combat and heavy-weapon engineering majors used the third floor—the fanciest setup, though the rich kids usually ate elsewhere.
Liberal arts and mechanical maintenance students (aka battlefield logistics) crowded the first floor. It was the noisiest and most lively.
By the time Michel and his group arrived, most students had finished eating. Those remaining gave Simon’s height a curious glance but didn’t cause trouble. Michel grabbed trays and utensils, got food from the staff, and helped Simon get seated before going back for soup.
While getting soup, Benny grumbled with envy. “Man, you've never brought me food or treated me this nicely. And I’m your best friend.”
Michel bumped his shoulder playfully. “That’s different.”
Benny pouted. “Different how? Just because he’s your honey? If that’s true, I’m cutting you off. Hmph!”
“Stop talking nonsense.” Michel finished scooping and handed Benny the ladle. “Simon and I… we may be married in a legal sense, but it’s not what you think. The big guy’s just a little clingy. Despite his size, he’s like a kid who needs pampering.”
Benny raised an eyebrow suspiciously.
“But you sleep in the same bed.”
“…”
“And you’re always stuck together. I bet you’ve already kissed—indirectly, at least.”
“…”
Michel’s ears turned red. After a pause, he said, “But… it takes time. I want to ease into it slowly, you know?”
Benny thought, Ease into what?! On Peipeijia Planet, there’s no such thing as a plant-type that doesn’t love their meat-type partner—and vice versa.
You’re already acting like a doting little lover, and you still want a “slow process”? What kind of process is this—one that kills all single dogs with sweet PDA?!
Oh, Lord.
But seeing Michel’s face dyed in a wine-red flush, Benny, knowing this was his friend’s first love, sighed and held back his blunt words.
They returned to the table with their soup, not mentioning the earlier topic. Michel felt thankful that Simon had come to school for him and helped deal with Eric. Even though the cafeteria food wasn’t bad, he still felt guilty seeing Simon frown at the steak.
So, as they ate, Michel fussed over him—cutting steak, reminding him to drink.
Oddly enough, it was Michel who became the busy little bee.
Wait…
Was it just him?
Benny munched on lettuce, peeking between the two.
His buddy didn’t look like someone pampering a girlfriend. It felt more like… a nervous son serving his dad a home-cooked meal for the first time.
And the ‘dad’—a solemn Simon—took a sip, smiled in approval, and the ‘son’ looked overjoyed.
Probably wanted a head pat, too.
Benny: …
Benny stared at Simon doting on his friend. The feeling only deepened.
He sighed and muttered to Michel: “You say he clings to you and needs pampering.”
Buddy…
I think he’s the dad.
You’re the pampered one.
Tsk tsk. Silly baby.
Author's Note (Mini Theater):
Little Flower: I thought I was the father figure…
Mr. Bumblebee: You’re overthinking, baby. [head pat]
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