Paragomania

[3]

Fuck. Dad had a babysitter for you. Fuckin' bullshit.

"No, no," you insisted. "I can take care of myself. I-"

"No." His voice was commanding, dropping the tone of a sunday school teacher for just a moment. "Stay here. I shall go send someone to get him." Your father stepped out of the library, closing the door behind him. As soon as it clicked, you raced to the window and forced the glass open. Fuck this bullshit, you had to get outside right fucking now. No way you were gonna let some old motherfucker to babysit you. You were seventeen, and not a fucking 'paragon'. Your feet hit the ground and you raced away from the house and down the rows.

Ainsley gripped the sides of his desk. Fuck, he felt like he was gonna be sick. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. Today was the day he was meant to meet the paragon. He didn't even know anything about them. Not their name or what they looked like. Nothing. But today was the day. Brie had gone back to their parent's house earlier that morning so Ainsley could prepare, but he just couldn't.

He felt something coming up his throat and broke through the back door of his one room house, vomiting across the grass in front of the house behind his. Once his past day of eating was expelled, he collapsed down onto the stairs of his back door, hanging his head in his hands. A life of training and he still wasn't ready. Then someone caught his eye.

A person darting between buildings, looking them each up and down with an inspecting eye. They wore the clothes of an outsider. Ainsley assumed they must be a new recruit. It didn't happen often, but sometimes an outsider would be welcomed into the compound to join the Messengers of the Paragon. But he didn't want any outsider to be messing with people's houses.

"Hey!" he called out, making you jump.

You looked over at the boy sitting on the back stairs of one of the exactly identical houses. They all seemed to be about five hundred square feet, extremely small, with maybe ten feet perfectly distancing all of them. Each house had a front door, a back door, and two windows, with a stone foundation and stairs leading up to the doors. Honestly, they seemed like houses one might find in Minecraft. The lack of imagination and actual construction wasn't helping your concern for the commune.

"What do you think you're doing?" he snarled. The boy looked young, maybe your age at most. He had extremely dark skin with several spots on his face. His nose was wide but fit into his face nicely. His eyes were dark brown and downturned slightly. His hair accumulated into long but neatly done dreadlocks.

"Sorry," you said quickly. You hadn't run into anyone since escaping from the library, you didn't want to accidentally freak out the locals. "I was just looking around." He looked you up and down again.

"You're new to the congregation?" You shrugged. Someone was talking to you, time to bullshit your way out.

"You could say that. I'm here staying with my father for a while." He pressed his lips together and nodded. You looked at his face, which looked rather paled, like he was sick. Your attention turned to what looked to be a small puddle of vomit beside the stairs he sat on. "Are you feeling okay?" He nodded and looked down, almost ashamed. You walked around the house you were standing beside and sat on its front steps, across the walkway from the boy. "I'm YN."

"Ainsley," he responded. "I'm just... anxious, I guess."

"Why's that?" Ainsley was hesitant to talk to a stranger, but he just really needed to get this off his chest, and your sympathetic expression was enough to tell him you weren't going to judge. So against his better judgement, Ainsley started talking.

"I've been training for this thing for a long, long time. Like since I was a small child. And it's finally coming, but I just don't feel like I'm ready." You gave him a small sympathetic smile, seeing that he was in a similar situation to yourself.

"That's okay. No one ever feels truly ready for big changes. It's not like you can control the passing of time, though. Things will come when they do, and there's no stopping them. As nice as it would be to be able to turn back the clock until you're ready, no amount of preparation is ever going to make you feel like you're entirely ready." Ainsley smiled softly and looked at the grass. "It's totally valid to be anxious about stuff, but anxiety can't be the reason you throw away something that you've been prepping for for literal years."

"Yeah... I guess you're right." He glanced at you as you looked around, making sure no one else was coming. "And what about you? What's your deal?" You shrugged.

"I dunno. I'm just kinda here until I turn 18. I've been in the system for a while, but I have a good savings. I just gotta hold on until I can legally be my own adult. Then I'll be out of y'all's hair." Ainsley furrowed his eyebrows.

"What system?" You sighed. Yeah, you shouldn't expect people in this little cult to know everything you're talking about. You wondered how much was well known, like big events, what countries were out there... how cult-y was this cult?

"My mom died a couple years ago. I was sent from house to house in this thing called Foster Care. It fuckin' sucks, there's nothing 'caring' about it. They don't give a shit about the kids. Then I lived with my aunt for a bit, and.... Well, it didn't work out for a number of reasons. But since I only have, like, two months until I turn 18, no one wanted me. I didn't have anywhere to live, but I can't live on my own, so they sent me up here to live with my dad for a bit." Ainsley shrugged.

"Maybe you could stay here, if you like it," he suggested. "Everyone's wanted here." You chuckled, partially out of discomfort, partially out of your need to make every interaction run as smoothly as possible.

"Thanks, but this really ain't my scene. I'm not into the whole cult vibe." He tilted his head to the side a bit.

"Cult vibe?" You shouldn't have said that. Whoops.

"Nevermind. I just mean I wanna find a place in the city when I can. Get my job back, get my place to live. All that jazz." Ainsley nodded.

"I've always wanted to visit the city," he said. "Caleb took the kids out there once on a trip to the library in the town. It was fascinating."

"Well, when I have my own place, maybe you could visit sometime." Ainsley smiled. This outsider was nice. The two of you were joking as if you had been friends for some time. "What do you guys do for fun around here?"

"I don't know, I don't mingle with the other children much. I personally focus on the building of my body. I enjoy pushing my limits." What a body-builder thing to say. You judged him, just slightly, because that was the response of someone with absolutely no personality. You figured you couldn't blame him too much, you'd see documentaries about cults before.

Suddenly, a woman in bright white clothes suddenly came around the corner, her head turned as if she's looking behind her for an approaching party. Her pale green eyes darted towards Ainsley.

"Ainsley!" she hissed urgently, a crooked smile spreading on her caramel coloured lips. "They're coming for you to meet the paragon. Quickly, get your things together. I-" Her eyes darted to you just as another person in white clothes came. He was a tall man with almost translucent skin, eyes smaller than olives, and a nose so straight it looked like the face of a cliff. His beady little eyes landed on you, and his bushy eyebrows rose in surprise.

"Paragon!" he exclaimed, suddenly bowing his head to you. "Your father is waiting for you to prepare for your ceremony." Ainsley and the girl looked back and forth between each other. "Come, quickly. Your ceremonial robes are prepared." He reached a thin, boney hand out of his robes and clasped it around your wrist, beginning to drag you away. "Ainsley, do not waste the time of the Paragon."

You were rushed away by the man, leaving Ainsley and the girl standing alone behind his house as the realisation dawned upon him. In less than a second, the poor boy was doubled over once again, vomiting uncontrollably.

And there goes the first impression.

*****
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