;;Â @indevendentââ || Continued from here.
It started with a letter.Â
Normally he would receive letters from his parents, asks to come home, money, the works. It was always his mother sending these items to him. She was just as guilty as his father was when it came to the abuse, but she wanted her son back.
He always ignored those requests, generally burning the letters and giving the Dollars to some random person. He didnât want their charity. He never needed it. There was a reason he left December and moved far away from his parents and he did not forgive them in the slightest.
But when he received a handwritten letter from his father claiming his mother was on her deathbed. Well, that wrenched him just a little bit. His father had always told him he no longer had a son after everything that he had been through. Especially when they found out his sexuality was far from what they wanted.
So when this detailed letter came from his father about his mother being deathly ill, maybe having months left to live, it left Bastian feeling conflicted. A part of him wanted to laugh and thank whatever God was out there for karma finally coming full circle. He would have burned the letter if he was heartless. But some part of him wanted to go and see her dying. Tell her to her face all the things he never could when he was younger. After all, he did run away without so much as a goodbye. He could finally tell her how he really felt before she croaked.
He had been open with Knives when he got the letter, explaining a little bit about the situation. He didnât go into the full details, still cautious himself about revealing too much. He didnât want Knives to think ill of him or put him in the same camp as he did most other humans.
Of course, he was against it from day one. He didnât want him to go, but Bastian reassured him that it would be fine. Heâd be back in no time and there was no need to worry.
Saying goodbye to his boyfriend was probably one of the hardest things he had done in a while. As much as he wanted Knives to come, it would only complicate things and it risked his demons being dug up to the man he loved. To someone who was already weary of humans. So he left Knives behind, and set off to December on his own.
He should have listened to Knives.Â
When he arrived at his parents house, he was greeted with their bodyguard who removed any item from him that could be used as a weapon. Of course, this included his pistol. That was red flag number one, but at first he thought that his father might be paranoid his son would snap again and shoot him. The second red flag was the fact that his mother, alive and very much well, came running from the living room to hug him.
âOh my dear Bastian!â she hummed, pulling him into a hug he did not want. His nose wrinkled at her perfume and he just stood there, not hugging back. âM..Mom..? I thought you were sick?â he asked, confused. âOh let me have a look at you!â she stepped back to inspect him, looking him up and down, âMm...Youâll need a haircut...and some new clothes, but you look well! Itâs good to have you home!â She took him by the hand, completely ignoring his question as he was pulled to sit down.
The first day he let it slide. He gave them the benefit of the doubt. Maybe his mother was trying to be strong and put on a show. That wasnât unusual for her. She was always good at putting on a mask. Itâs where Bastian learned it from.
The third day was when he knew something was wrong. He wasnât allowed to leave the house without the family bodyguard. He couldnât take his bag with him if he was leaving and he had a curfew. His parents were treating him like a teenager once again. He was in their house, under their rules. He couldnât stand it.
It was that night that he learned their true intentions. No, his mother was not sick. In fact, their family was quite well off all things considered. The circumstances of this planet werenât exactly lavishing. But they made their money in secrets and information, trading items of value for other precious items of value. They were very good at manipulating people. And manipulate they did. They brought him back to train him up. They felt he had enough acting out and that it was finally time to come home.
âHome?! This was never my home,â he growls at them, rising from his seat, âYou can find someone else to manipulate and weave into your little family of lies because it wonât be me.â He tossed down his napkin and turned to leave. That was when the bodyguard blocked the way. âThere was no choice here, Bastian...â his mother said calmly, taking a sip of her wine, âYou do remember your incident? The one your father and I covered up..?â
Bastianâs hands clenched into tight fists, staring past the body guard. âWhat about it?â he asked, trying to stay calm. âWell, it would be a shame if your little radio show went downhill after the full story leaked, wouldnât it? What was her name again....Oh! Yes, Emily Smith. She was...five? Yes, I think that your fans would get a kick out of a story like that. To find their host is a genuine monster...â He could hear the smug look on his mothers face as she stared into his soul.
âWhat do you even want from me?â he asked, turning towards her, âI donât do the work that you and Richard do. So what would be the point of this manipulation?â âRichard?â she laughed, âHoney, thatâs your father...And Iâm not manipulating you. Iâm merely helping you to realize that you need your parents. Weâre your family, and family sticks together. Especially in this world we live in. Weâd like to utilize your radio show. For our own information, of course. Youâd have to do away with your horror themes...Perhaps the conspiracies could stay, but they would be items we want reported.â âAnd why would I do any of this for you, Isabella?â Bastian asked, making another point to use her name, âWhat if Iâve already come to terms with my past? Itâs been so long, it wonât effect me.â
âIt wonât?â Isabella asked, quirking a brow and looking towards her husband, âDid you hear that? He will be just fine if the story gets out. Then I think we should contact Joseph at the December Daily --â âYou wouldnât,â he was trying to call her bluff. âAnd we should volunteer for an interview. After all, it was our poor, confused, and sick son who murdered a child in cold blood...â she was already putting on the water works. The fake crocodile tears Bastian would never forget.
Bastian let out a growl, his hands balled into tight fists. âEnough!â
What was he supposed to do? He was scared. He was a coward. He agreed.
In the coming weeks he attempted to send communication to Knives. He must have written over a dozen letters trying to explain everything to him, but they never came out quite right. When he finally did have a letter he was satisfied with, it was snatched from him and burned in the fire place. He was told if he tried to reach out to anyone then it would break their deal.
So Bastian struggled, trying to find his own way out of this mess while simultaneously playing a dangerous game with his other parents. True to form, they got him his own bodyguard. A young man named Daniel. He was nice enough at least, but he was still his babysitter.
He was out in the city with Daniel, finalizing what would become his broadcasting room at, wouldnât you guess it? December Daily. Of course his parents had the popular news outlet under their thumb.
He couldnât even focus on everything he was told. His mind just kept wandering, longing for Knives and wishing he had listened to him. He could only imagine what he was thinking with him not returning. A part of him was hoping heâd come to find him, but another part of him was scared to see him again with everything.
He was going to call him an idiot.
âDo you want some ice cream?â he looked back at Daniel. âI am on the clock, sir. I canât have any of that...But please enjoy it for me,â he stated. âAww, come on Danny! Itâll be fine. Itâs not like Richard and Isabella will really care...â Bastian said, stepping up to the vendor for ice cream. Honestly, it was a distraction and stopped him from going back to what was, effectively, his prison.
