Status: First try at original slash - here we go.
Simplistic
Chapter Two
Benjamin's feline friend, Captain, was waiting for him in a lackluster apartment. Truthfully, it wasn't his cat, but his roommate, Cody, wasn't a very avid cat-owner. He tended to neglect responsibilities, which made him the worst kind of roommate. Still, Benjamin couldn't afford a whole flat by himself and Cody seemed just slightly better than living in someone's attic. Slightly. Sighing, Benjamin pet Captain's head absentmindedly. He made a straight beeline toward the cabinet for a nice cup of "Sleepy Time" tea. Tea is rarely the solution to an insomniac like Benjamin, but he likes to pretend it's working.
Meow, meow, meeeooow, Captain whined. Benjamin mimicked, finding it amusing to see the cat pull a puzzled look. He wondered what Captain was saying, and more importantly, what he said back.
Captain: Sir, why do you look so tired?
Benjamin: Fish are breakfast!
Captain: Sir?
Benjamin chuckled to himself, smiling as he took another swing of tea. Captain jumped up to his lap on the kitchen chair and purred under the gentle stroke of Benjamin's hands. He played with his Tabby fur until the cat seemed to be drifting off to sleep. It was only then that Benjamin questioned Cody's whereabouts. While Cody was forgetful and irresponsible, he rarely left the apartment. Cody's a call-center employee, which means he just has to read a script through the phone to satisfy some poor sap on the other end. His job is to pretend he cares about customer complaints and then gets paid for it through the comfort of his own home. Benjamin never understood the appeal at first, but after the first couple weeks of running through the streets of Chicago, the idea of working from your own bed didn't seem so bad after all.
Still, Benjamin's curiosity wasn't strong enough to give Cody a call. Instead, he finished his tea, set the cat on the floor, and washed his cup. He washed Cody's dishes too while he was at it, hating the image of dirty dishes. He never understood his parents' infatuation with clean dishes, but that's probably because he never had to be the one to wash the dishes everyday without so much as a "thank you". He felt he was slowly evolving into his mother. A chill went through his spine.
He made his way toward his bedroom once he was done. Captain followed shortly behind, his feet making light pats against the hardwood floor. They entered his room, which mainly consisted of a mattress on the floor with non-matching pillows and heavy duvets. Books from his old town were stacked in toppling piles along the walls and piss-poor posters of piss-poor bands hung crookedly against the chipped paint. This was his attempt at "decor". His room was nothing short of an organized mess, but nobody visited them anyways so Benjamin decided to stop caring.
He took off his glasses, which were round and resembled the kind of glasses Stephen King used to wear in his earlier years. Benjamin liked them, even if they got foggy when he drank tea. He got ready for bed, brushed his teeth, and ran a hand through his thick, dark hair. His fingers got stuck at one point, to which he had to untangle them without pulling his scalp.
He laid awake that night like he did with any other night. His brain exhausted itself with anxious thoughts of the future, regrets of the past, and doubts of the present. Benjamin twisted and turned under his blanket, owning the title "restless sleeper". Captain never liked that about Benjamin, therefore he trotted out of his room and decided to sleep on the couch instead. Benjamin thought about his parents, wondering what they were doing without him.
Lots of things now that you're gone, he thought cynically. Which, of course, was probably true. His parents lived fine before he was born and would carry on just as fine after he left. It was egoistic to think otherwise.
A loud slam came from outside Benjamin's door, causing him to flinch. He heard Captain's clawing against the wooden floor from fright. Immediately, he sat up, but felt deflated when a familiar booming voice followed the destructive pattern.
"I've returned, kumquats!" At the sound of his voice, Benjamin groaned and plopped his head back on his pillow. Cody was home, unfortunately. He heard ruckus coming from the kitchen, mostly grocery bags hitting the counter and a pop of a beer can. After awhile, Cody marched toward the bedrooms and knocked on Benjamin's door.
"Hey, Benji? Ben? Benji? You in there?" Cody asked obnoxiously.
Sighing, Benjamin sat up from his mattress, rubbed his temples, and responded back. "Would you stop calling me fucking Benji, already?"
"Oh, you're awake," He giggled, "you should try to catch some sleep, dude, it's late. Lord knows you need the money, which means waking up early for that stupid job. You're a week late for the rent, you know that? I can't be the only one hauling ass in this marriage, Ben...jamin."
His ramble made Benjamin's stomach acid burn, hatred and anger just bubbling up his esophagus. He wanted to leave, he wanted to leave so badly. But alas, he couldn't. Benjamin stifled a stiff chuckle and told him to beat it.
"Twat!" He joked, feigning his accent. Benjamin rolled my eyes. He tried to catch some sleep that night, he really did, but ended up staying up late reading a novel by George Orwell instead.
* * *
He did fall asleep, unfortunately, and was too sleep deprived to wake up from the buzzard of his alarm clock. Benjamin eventually woke up when Cody opened his bedroom door (picking the lock) and let Captain lick his face until he fluttered his eyes open lazily. Benjamin's eyesight was hazy, 1984 still firmly grasped between his forefinger and thumb before he even glanced at the red numbers beside his bed. He adjusted his glasses.
8:05.
Shit.
Benjamin had exactly ten minutes before his bus came, which meant more running. He ran around the house, threw on clothes, grabbed his satchel from the couch, and stole a piece of gum from Cody's coat pocket. He threw it in his mouth to serve as an unsatisfying breakfast and a poor substitution for brushing his teeth. When Benjamin left the apartment, he had roughly five minutes to run down the stairs and sprint across the block to the bus stop. He zig-zagged through the elderly, yelled "EXCUSE ME!" about fifty times, and even dodged a couple teenage skaters. Teenage skaters, he believed, were a plague. A nasty swine.
He made it, barely. Passengers were already piling in when Benjamin was fifteen feet away. Sweaty, smelly, and out of breath; but he made it. He fixed the glasses onto the bridge of his nose, which he fell asleep with last night. They were crooked and were getting foggy by Benjamin's deep breathing.
"Oh, goddammit, come on," He muttered while climbing onto the bus. He took off his glasses and cleaned them against his shirt. A lady was getting on in front of him, who promptly turned around and gave him a sour look.
"Can you be patient?" She asked, annoyance coating her sweet old lady tone, "I'm trying my best."
Benjamin's eyes opened wide as he quickly denied the accusation, giving unnecessary excuses for his "foul language". The lady waved it off, climbed up the steps at her own pace (which Benjamin could have sworn slowed down just to piss him off), and sat down toward the front. Benjamin wasn't above hating old ladies, mind you, especially ones that made him late to work. He stared her down as he walked down the aisle, unashamed.
"That lady has about fifty years on you," a voice behind him said, "Her generation has ruined the economy at least twice. I'd be careful."
Benjamin laughed, reluctantly, but laughed all the same. When he finally chose a seat, he saw it was the same guy--Frankie--from yesterday. Suddenly, Benjamin felt uncomfortable. Luckily, the boy could take a hint, and sat on the other side of the aisle, parallel to Benjamin's seat. They both sat next to the window, creating as much distance as possible. They played a silent, mutual game of looking without getting caught. Benjamin would look, Frankie would look, Benjamin would look away, and Frankie would look away. It continued for about three times before they both laughed quietly, shook their heads, and just stared out the window for the rest of the ride.
Benjamin thought about his parents, his job, his Captain, and the chances of his generation ruining the economy twice. He thought about a lot of things.
Meow, meow, meeeooow, Captain whined. Benjamin mimicked, finding it amusing to see the cat pull a puzzled look. He wondered what Captain was saying, and more importantly, what he said back.
Captain: Sir, why do you look so tired?
Benjamin: Fish are breakfast!
Captain: Sir?
Benjamin chuckled to himself, smiling as he took another swing of tea. Captain jumped up to his lap on the kitchen chair and purred under the gentle stroke of Benjamin's hands. He played with his Tabby fur until the cat seemed to be drifting off to sleep. It was only then that Benjamin questioned Cody's whereabouts. While Cody was forgetful and irresponsible, he rarely left the apartment. Cody's a call-center employee, which means he just has to read a script through the phone to satisfy some poor sap on the other end. His job is to pretend he cares about customer complaints and then gets paid for it through the comfort of his own home. Benjamin never understood the appeal at first, but after the first couple weeks of running through the streets of Chicago, the idea of working from your own bed didn't seem so bad after all.
Still, Benjamin's curiosity wasn't strong enough to give Cody a call. Instead, he finished his tea, set the cat on the floor, and washed his cup. He washed Cody's dishes too while he was at it, hating the image of dirty dishes. He never understood his parents' infatuation with clean dishes, but that's probably because he never had to be the one to wash the dishes everyday without so much as a "thank you". He felt he was slowly evolving into his mother. A chill went through his spine.
He made his way toward his bedroom once he was done. Captain followed shortly behind, his feet making light pats against the hardwood floor. They entered his room, which mainly consisted of a mattress on the floor with non-matching pillows and heavy duvets. Books from his old town were stacked in toppling piles along the walls and piss-poor posters of piss-poor bands hung crookedly against the chipped paint. This was his attempt at "decor". His room was nothing short of an organized mess, but nobody visited them anyways so Benjamin decided to stop caring.
He took off his glasses, which were round and resembled the kind of glasses Stephen King used to wear in his earlier years. Benjamin liked them, even if they got foggy when he drank tea. He got ready for bed, brushed his teeth, and ran a hand through his thick, dark hair. His fingers got stuck at one point, to which he had to untangle them without pulling his scalp.
He laid awake that night like he did with any other night. His brain exhausted itself with anxious thoughts of the future, regrets of the past, and doubts of the present. Benjamin twisted and turned under his blanket, owning the title "restless sleeper". Captain never liked that about Benjamin, therefore he trotted out of his room and decided to sleep on the couch instead. Benjamin thought about his parents, wondering what they were doing without him.
Lots of things now that you're gone, he thought cynically. Which, of course, was probably true. His parents lived fine before he was born and would carry on just as fine after he left. It was egoistic to think otherwise.
A loud slam came from outside Benjamin's door, causing him to flinch. He heard Captain's clawing against the wooden floor from fright. Immediately, he sat up, but felt deflated when a familiar booming voice followed the destructive pattern.
"I've returned, kumquats!" At the sound of his voice, Benjamin groaned and plopped his head back on his pillow. Cody was home, unfortunately. He heard ruckus coming from the kitchen, mostly grocery bags hitting the counter and a pop of a beer can. After awhile, Cody marched toward the bedrooms and knocked on Benjamin's door.
"Hey, Benji? Ben? Benji? You in there?" Cody asked obnoxiously.
Sighing, Benjamin sat up from his mattress, rubbed his temples, and responded back. "Would you stop calling me fucking Benji, already?"
"Oh, you're awake," He giggled, "you should try to catch some sleep, dude, it's late. Lord knows you need the money, which means waking up early for that stupid job. You're a week late for the rent, you know that? I can't be the only one hauling ass in this marriage, Ben...jamin."
His ramble made Benjamin's stomach acid burn, hatred and anger just bubbling up his esophagus. He wanted to leave, he wanted to leave so badly. But alas, he couldn't. Benjamin stifled a stiff chuckle and told him to beat it.
"Twat!" He joked, feigning his accent. Benjamin rolled my eyes. He tried to catch some sleep that night, he really did, but ended up staying up late reading a novel by George Orwell instead.
* * *
He did fall asleep, unfortunately, and was too sleep deprived to wake up from the buzzard of his alarm clock. Benjamin eventually woke up when Cody opened his bedroom door (picking the lock) and let Captain lick his face until he fluttered his eyes open lazily. Benjamin's eyesight was hazy, 1984 still firmly grasped between his forefinger and thumb before he even glanced at the red numbers beside his bed. He adjusted his glasses.
8:05.
Shit.
Benjamin had exactly ten minutes before his bus came, which meant more running. He ran around the house, threw on clothes, grabbed his satchel from the couch, and stole a piece of gum from Cody's coat pocket. He threw it in his mouth to serve as an unsatisfying breakfast and a poor substitution for brushing his teeth. When Benjamin left the apartment, he had roughly five minutes to run down the stairs and sprint across the block to the bus stop. He zig-zagged through the elderly, yelled "EXCUSE ME!" about fifty times, and even dodged a couple teenage skaters. Teenage skaters, he believed, were a plague. A nasty swine.
He made it, barely. Passengers were already piling in when Benjamin was fifteen feet away. Sweaty, smelly, and out of breath; but he made it. He fixed the glasses onto the bridge of his nose, which he fell asleep with last night. They were crooked and were getting foggy by Benjamin's deep breathing.
"Oh, goddammit, come on," He muttered while climbing onto the bus. He took off his glasses and cleaned them against his shirt. A lady was getting on in front of him, who promptly turned around and gave him a sour look.
"Can you be patient?" She asked, annoyance coating her sweet old lady tone, "I'm trying my best."
Benjamin's eyes opened wide as he quickly denied the accusation, giving unnecessary excuses for his "foul language". The lady waved it off, climbed up the steps at her own pace (which Benjamin could have sworn slowed down just to piss him off), and sat down toward the front. Benjamin wasn't above hating old ladies, mind you, especially ones that made him late to work. He stared her down as he walked down the aisle, unashamed.
"That lady has about fifty years on you," a voice behind him said, "Her generation has ruined the economy at least twice. I'd be careful."
Benjamin laughed, reluctantly, but laughed all the same. When he finally chose a seat, he saw it was the same guy--Frankie--from yesterday. Suddenly, Benjamin felt uncomfortable. Luckily, the boy could take a hint, and sat on the other side of the aisle, parallel to Benjamin's seat. They both sat next to the window, creating as much distance as possible. They played a silent, mutual game of looking without getting caught. Benjamin would look, Frankie would look, Benjamin would look away, and Frankie would look away. It continued for about three times before they both laughed quietly, shook their heads, and just stared out the window for the rest of the ride.
Benjamin thought about his parents, his job, his Captain, and the chances of his generation ruining the economy twice. He thought about a lot of things.