17ANTIBODY
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ONE
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BLUE EYED MONSTER
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"After I die, I'll re-awake,
Redefine what was at stake,
From the hindsight of a god.
I'll see the people that I used,
See the substance I abused,
The ugly places that I lived.
Did I make money, was I proud?
Did I play my songs too loud?
Did I leave my life to chance,
Or did I make you fucking dance?"
- Global Concepts
They said in this life there are no two people alike. Not entirely. Not completely. The amount of different opinions, personalities, habits, quirks... they would never span exactly from one person to another. But there were enough similarities between some individuals which allowed this magic to happen called... understanding.
He got told a lot, "Trick... I understand" or, "We understand what you're feeling." He wondered sometimes if he should stick a fork in their eye and tell them he understood their pain too. Even if it was an obvious fucking lie.
But those people didn't matter anyway.
He wondered what the summer would be like. He wondered what his mom would be like. He sighed as he folded the last shirt, neat as possible. It was a plain white one he barely wore. His mom said white was a color that matched everything so it was essential to his wardrobe. He dropped it in his suitcase with another heavy sigh.
"Will you stop, bro?"
Trick looked to the door. His roommate, Harry, was staring at him with a disapproving look.
"What?" Trick asked, distractedly closing his bag.
"You've been sighing incessantly ever since we started packing," Harry said. He walked between the two single beds, zipping up his sweatshirt. He had the funny habit of wearing track shirts and pants like he was working out every minute of his life. His long blond hair, slicked back to cling to the nape of his neck, shone in the sunlight that was punching in through the window. The radio on the window ledge was playing a latest hit at low vol. Current song was shouting something about partying your mother-F-ing heads off.
"Sorry," Trick said. He sighed again.
"You," Harry said, tutting.
Trick managed a pawky smile, and Harry smiled back. Harry sat on his bed, hands folding between his spread legs. "You no wanna go home?" he asked in baby talk.
"No," Trick said. He dropped his suitcase on the carpet and popped out the handle so he could drag it on its wheels easier. "It'll be good to see my mom, I get that. But when I went home six months ago for the funeral... it was fucking awkward, Harry."
"You don't mean... your mom was actually... sad?" Harry said, faking the horror.
Trick scratched his nose. "Umm... I know it sounds weird for me to be uncomfortable with that... but it was just so weird."
Harry grunted. He stood and circled an arm round Trick's shoulders. "Yo man. I get it man. You've always been awful at expressing yourself. Christ, I hated you for the first three months we roomed together because I thought you were a total dickwad. Turns out you're like a burnt marshmallow. All crispy and charred on the outside, and then soft and gooey on the inside."
Trick held his breath, readying himself to not deck the other boy. Once calm, he said, "Please don't compare me to a marshmallow."
"Marshmallow Man!" Harry bellowed, hopping away. He marched round the room. "He's the Marshmallow Man, mushing up peoples hearts since the dawn of time!" he sang, making his voice sound gruff.
"How did I survive a full year with you?" Trick groaned. He aligned the cuffs of his shirt, and then the collar, and then straightened the bottom... and then sighed again. "Okay. I'm ready to hop in my car, drive the coast, and see my mom."
Harry turned serious. "She shouldn't be a shivering wreck. It has been six months. I mean she'll probably stare at stuff, have a cloud over her head, and talk to Ronnie like he can understand her, but you shouldn't have to feel awkward."
Trick nodded. He forgot about Ronnie. When Trick had graduated high school and moved across the state to attend college, his mother had bought an English bulldog to keep her company. She said having a distraction — not a replacement, as a dog could obviously never replace her precious, eldest son — would help her get over her loneliness. In Trick's first year, she'd called every day. In his second year — this year — she'd called every day until six months ago.
With Kyle's death, she might as well have died too. When Trick had come down for the funeral, numb, his mother had barely existed to the point where the funeral arrangements had been pushed onto Trick. Only nineteen, he'd fumbled his way through the tasks. Uncle Fred had helped a lot, at least, and he'd coldly got it all done, and didn't even have energy to cry during the actual ceremony.
Trick waved at Harry, who wiggled his phone in the air. It meant keep in touch. Trick nodded and rounded into the hall, dragging his luggage with him. He exited Hilty Place, one of the many boys' dorms, and found his car. He'd already signed out and took care of that stuff, so now he just had to hop in this car... and go.
He slipped inside after storing his luggage in the trunk. His car was a sexy Mercedes-Benz he'd gotten for his sixteenth. His mom had kept pestering him to bring it in to exchange for a newer model but he'd gotten attached so he'd never bothered. Not to mention Kyle had named the car Miss Thang and every time Trick thought of that, he laughed despite himself. He couldn't just toss Miss Thang away, now could he?
So he drove away, sighing into his hand. He slipped his shades on in case he felt the urge to cry. He had a feeling driving the coastline would crush him. There was something about long, winding roads and the sea, and memories, and remembering those memories. He'd taken Kyle down this road to check out campus with him and Kyle had talked nonstop the whole way. Kyle had wanted to attend the same school, said he was going to bring up his marks and take Redbridge Campus by storm.
Trick drove, afraid of the coldness of home that would await. It was bewitching how cold the dessert could be.
He pulled into the driveway of the grand house as the sun clipped the skyline. He'd driven slower than he normally did. He used to drive fast, excited to see Kyle greeting him with a case of beer he "made" their mom buy. It was funny because their mom bought liquor at their request as long as they were safe with it and wouldn't drive under the influence or try to get into clubs.
Plus she had a full liquor cabinet they raided from time to time, and when caught, she'd give them a mere slap-on-the-wrist. Not too discouraging.
Trick slowly stepped out of Miss Thang and went round to the back. He popped the trunk and retrieved his bag, and then dropped it on the ground. He wheeled it up the driveway, wondering where the maid was. He nearly jumped out of his skin when a boy appeared in the doorway, hanging out with one arm.
"Hey! Trick, right?" the boy said. He looked sixteen or seventeen.
"Yeah," Trick said, frowning, "Who are you?"
The boy grinned. "Leo isn't here. Mary sent him on holidays for the summer." The boy hurried to Trick, nudged his hand off the handle of his bag, and then took it himself. He smiled politely. "You must be tired. I can take this to your room. Up the stairs, first on the right, right?"
"Um," Trick said, thrown off, "yes it is."
"Sweet," the boy said. He stared up at Trick with an absent smile, and Trick stared back with a slight frown. The boy was average for his height and had pale skin. He had flyaway black hair and bright blue eyes. There was something exotic about his appearance to Trick, who was used to being surrounded by lighter hair, eyes that weren't so striking, and bodies that were tanned from lying on the beach. This kid... where had he come from? The mountains?
The boy walked back to the French doors. He held one open for Trick, who awkwardly thanked him as he entered. The boy hurried to the stairs, dragging the suitcase up by the long handle instead of the short one. Trick was glad he hadn't packed anything breakable or it'd be toast the way that boy was banging it around.
Trick walked into the parlor where he found his mother, Mary, sitting with a book. She looked up when she heard him enter, and Trick braced to see dark under eye circles and knotty hair. Instead: a glowing, beautiful woman stood up. Her blond hair was pulled up into an courtly bun, red lipstick applied on her thin lips. Her eyes were canty, her smile radiant. She hurried to Trick and wrapped him in her arms. She'd gotten plump.
"Oh, at last," she murmured. "I missed you, my dear!"
Trick numbly hugged her back. She was okay. She'd transformed from the dead to someone — happy.
"You're okay," he said, shocked.
"Oh, sweetie," she said, pulling back. Her eyes were watery as she looked up at him. "It feels like it has been so long." She touched his face, her fingers warm.
He smiled at her. "Are you really okay?" he asked.
She dropped her hand. "I am, my dear. I mean... as okay as I can be. Chin up, right?" She pulled at her shirt. "I bought myself lots of new clothes. I also got a second English bulldog. A lover for dear Ronnie. I call her Rosie. How adorable is that, Tricky? Ronnie and Rosie."
Trick smiled. "I see. I'm glad."
"Ooh! Come meet the bitch!"
That gave him a little whiplash.
She said, "Come, come. They have their own room you know."
For a minute Trick was scared she'd given them Kyle's old room, but it wasn't so. They walked into a room full of toys and doodads. Two English bulldogs were playing tug o war with a rope shaped in an eight. Trick recognized Ronnie. He was a slobbery thing, big and heavy, with droopy eyes. The female dog was smaller and had a whiter coat and wore an oversized pink bow.
"Well they seem content," Trick concluded.
"Oh, come, come, come," his mom ushered. The two broke their game and came galloping over. Trick kneeled and let them lick at his arms and hands. "Friendly, isn't she?" his mom beamed.
"Yeah," Trick said, "she's nice." He didn't understand why Mary didn't get a more suitable dog, if only for socializing. All her friends had poodles or chihuahuas, and she used to complain on the phone when she'd first gotten Ronnie that her friends always asked her specifically not to bring Ronnie to their parties.
He stood. The dogs tugged at his pant legs and he frowned.
"I try to discourage them from doing that," his mom tutted. She pulled Trick out of the room. Trick knew his mom's discipline techniques were pretty weak. The things she'd let him and Kyle get away with...
"Come, come," his mother said. She fussed with her bun for a moment, and then smiled at him. "I want you to meet someone."
"The kid who greeted me?" Trick assumed.
She stopped suddenly. Trick stopped behind her with a frown. She bristly turned to face him and they stared at each other.
"Oh," she said. After a casual clearing of the throat, she continued, "That boy. He was so eager to meet you... but still... I told him to wait."
Trick scratched his nose. "Who is he?"
She grabbed his hand and squeezed. "Come, come."
She led Trick out onto the patio. A man was sitting on the swinging bench, a glass of red wine in hand. He was at perfect ease, his eyes on the darkening sky. He could've been in a painting with the way he sat in this setting. Trick's mom made a soft sound and the man stirred, turning to view her and her son. Trick smiled politely.
"Hello," Trick said.
"Trick," Mary said, stepping up to the man. He had a thin mustache and hollow eyes, but his smile was friendly enough. He was bald but it suited him — Trick could not imagine him with hair. "This is Erick. He's my..." She looked round, anxious. "He's my fiancé."
Trick's eyes widened at that. His mom had... found a new person? When? They used to talk all the time and she'd never mentioned... unless...
This was very recent. Six months time recent. She'd only just met the man, and already —?
Then that boy?
Trick looked to the side when something brushed him. The blue eyed kid from before was standing next to him. The boy smiled up at him. "I put your stuff in your room, Trick. You're a light packer!"
Trick wasn't sure what to do.
"This is Trance," Mary said. "He's Erick's son. Sixteen. Enrolled at your old school. They moved all the way from Maine."
"Trance? That's a nickname?" Trick assumed.
"No," Trance said. "My actual name. My dead mom was eccentric."
Erick sighed. "Trance, a little more conciliatory please."
Trance jumped. "I mean my passed-away-mother was... dodgy."
"Not better."
Trick hesitated. He was an odd kid. He made Trick uneasy. Was it actually the kid himself or was it his age? He was the same age as Kyle had been when he'd died. Sixteen... and he was practically the same height. He even had a similar build. Kyle had been tan and sandy haired like Trick, so it wasn't like they were alike, but... still, Trick felt uneasy.
"Trick's short for Patrick, right?" Trance said. "Good thing you go by Trick. Patrick's kinda nerdy."
"Trance," Erick grunted.
Mary laughed nervously and stepped up next to Trick. "I do find it amusing that your names go so well together. Trick and Trance. It's cute."
Trance grinned at her.
She touched Trick's arm. "I'm sorry I didn't mention this earlier. I wanted to wait until you got home so you could meet them in person."
Trick looked at her. "When?"
"When, honey?"
"When did you meet Erick?"
His mom fussed with her bun again. "I-it was... two weeks after Kyle's funeral, sweetie. Erick... my dear Erick... he was there for me. We met at a function and we became fast friends, and then he told me he was getting transferred out here... and then he proposed a month ago and... it goes from there."
Trance looked back and forth from Mary to Trick.
"I see," Trick said. He forced himself to smile. He really hadn't expected this. He'd, for some reason, thought it'd always be him and his mom now, because it'd always been him, his mom, and Kyle. The three of them. Never had he thought his mother would remarry. She'd always told him and Kyle they were the only men she needed in her life, that she knew they'd take care of her.
With Kyle gone... that must've changed.
His smile was getting hard to keep up so he faked a yawn. "Wow. So that... is a surprise. But it's cool." He turned to Erick. "What do you do, sir?"
The man looked surprised for a brief moment. "Oh, oh no. Not sir please. I don't expect you to call me dad yet seeing as we are meeting for the first time, but I'd love it if you'd eventually become comfortable enough."
Trick just looked at him.
"That will be a nice day, don't you think?" Erick said, shifting his eyes to Mary, who smiled in agreement. He looked back at Trick. "I'm a top architect, Trick. I design homes for fussy people." He chuckled. Trick laughed too, but there was nothing behind it. He noted Trance was still standing next to him, staring.
"Heard you're in school to become a lawyer," Erick said. "You're ambitious it seems."
Trick nodded. "We'll see if I can handle it, sir."
Erick's smile flickered.
"Sorry," Trick said. "I'll get out of that habit. For now, may I call you Erick?"
"Absolutely."
Trick looked down at Trance finally, who jumped as if surprised by being caught. "How about you, since we're on the topic. Do you know what you want to be when you grow up?"
Trance stared up at him for a while longer. He didn't appear to be thinking, so Trick wondered exactly what he was stalling on. "I've always wanted to do something out there. I wanted to be a private eye once. Then I wanted to go into criminology. Then I wanted to be a surgeon and slit people open... til I watched a documentary and got kind of sick from it. Can't handle that stuff." He grinned.
"So you're on the fence?" Trick summarized.
"Yeah." He toed his toe to Trick's and Trick hesitated. "If you got time later, maybe I could bounce some career thoughts off you and you could give me your opinion?"
Trick wasn't sure what to say. He'd just met the kid. Trick shrugged and looked up. At least the kid was friendly...
"So I'm a little tired from the drive," Trick said, rolling his shoulders. "I'm sorry. I'd love to stay up and have some wine with you but —"
"Your underage," Erick said.
Trick looked at Mary guiltily. "S-sorry. Habit."
"I let him have wine," Mary told Erick, with a little grin. "He's a good kid."
"Mom, I'm nineteen. I'm not a kid."
"You are so," she said, reaching up to pinch his cheek.
"Seriously?" he grunted, touching his face.
Erick chuckled. "I see. I'm sure I'll get more lenient with Trance when he graduates high school, too."
"Not likely," Trance said, inspecting his fingernails.
"Trance."
Trick smiled, excused himself, and walked back inside. He looked back at their silhouettes behind the curtain, contemplating them for a moment, before he walked back to the porch. He took the stairs by two and stopped at the top. He gripped the railing and looked down. The flooring looked darker. Mary must've grown bored of the previous light tone.
He looked over the porch. The chandelier in front of him hung in the center of the room. He'd always teased Kyle that the thing would fall on him one day and that was how he'd go. Well, something had crashed into him, but it hadn't been a chandelier. But he remembered seeing Kyle sitting on the staircase one day, staring at it anxiously. Kyle easily got spooked.
This place felt so different. Fake, in a way. Like everything that had happened today wasn't real.
Trick walked into his room. Trance had left his bag at the foot of his bed. He kneeled and opened it, and then frowned. His clothes were all gone.
He stood and walked to the closet. He opened it and found his shirts and pants hanging. Trance had —?
He walked to his underwear drawer and pulled it open. He'd even put these away. That weird kid.
Was he supposed to appreciate the gesture or be bothered?
He unpacked his remaining things. His toiletries hadn't been included, so he assumed Trance had placed those in the bathroom. Trick left his room to check. The bathroom was just next door, so he wandered in. He opened various cabinets and found his things.
"Oh."
He looked at the door. Trance was standing with one hand on the frame, smiling hesitantly.
"Hey," Trick said. He closed the cabinets. "Was just looking to see where you put my stuff."
"Sorry," Trance immediately said. "I didn't mean to inconvenience you."
Trick blinked at him and then smiled. "I'm not mad."
Trance nodded. He took a slow step in the bathroom. "S-so we're going to be sharing a bathroom. Is that okay?"
"Kid," Trick said, rubbing at one of his eyes, "I share a dorm room with a dude and we all share one bathroom in the hall. I'm definitely used to sharing."
"But you go to Redbridge," Trance said, dumbfounded. "And you're... I mean... don't you have a private space?"
"Mom wanted me to get one but I didn't," Trick said. "I get really absorbed if I'm not round people though. I thought it would be best for me to keep social."
"Absorbed?"
"In like... solitary activities."
Trance's expression screwed up. "Are you being perverted?"
"What? No!" Trick sighed. "I just mean I can play video games for twenty four hours straight by myself and that's not very productive. If I have a roommate, on the other hand, I don't do that."
Trance just stared at him.
Trick looked at himself in the mirror to make sure he didn't have something weird on his face. Why did the kid stare at him so much? He shrugged and went to step round Trance. "Well I'm going to sleep. See you tomorrow."
Trance watched him walk past.
"Oh, by the way, where's your room?" Trick asked.
Trance glanced over his shoulder, his expression strange. "Kyle's room is mine now."
Trick smiled forcefully. "I see."
Trance returned the smile.
Trick walked back to his room. He shut the door and leaned back against it.
What was this strange feeling he couldn't pinpoint? That kid... there was something weird about him. Was it his appearance, or his habit of staring? Was it that he seemed fine with ... everything? Weren't sixteen-year-olds supposed to rebel against stepbrothers and stepmothers or something?
And he had Kyle's room now. He didn't want to think too hard on that.
A knock on the wood at his back startled him. He turned to open the door. Trance stood hugging a towel to his chest.
"Mary forgot to mention," the blue eyed boy said, "the wedding's in two weeks."
"Okay?" Trick said. "I'll be there," he added sarcastically.
Trance smiled. "We'll be brothers in two weeks." His smile widened into a grin. "I look forward to having a big brother, Trick!"
"Um, good," Trick said. "Night then."
Trance stared at him until he closed the door. He locked it just because that felt like something he should do.
He dropped down on his bed, shivers crawling down his spine.
AN: I do not own Global Concepts. I just think the beat is fine.
Here's another story I can't stop writing. I have writer's block for my other story, Jinxing Remy, but it's wearing off so if you follow that story, I should update next weekend.
This one has a mellow start (I'm trying to hold a mood here) but it gets pretty twisted. At least, I think so. Let me know what you think :)