31) 'Family Members That You Only See Once A Year Asking Annoying Questions' And Other Moments That Would Never Even Occur If National Holidays Didn't Exist
A great man had once said love made people do impossibilities. This was entirely true. Had this happened under any other circumstance—like, any other circumstance—and Thijmen wouldn't even have dared to get close to Martin. Desperation forged heroes like nothing else, though.
Martin walked at the other end of the alley, unsuspecting.
"You got a true Spartan here," Messiah said.
"You don't have a boyfriend," added Heston, "you have a manfriend."
Oblivious to this, Thijmen walked ahead of them. Ahead, ahead, towards his demise. A good actor, he was. He didn't look as dead outside as he was on the inside. Heston, Messiah and Benjamin watched from afar, huddled at the corner connecting the hallways.
"He is," Benjamin admitted, "and I do."
But then, before Thijmen could actually reach it, another guy stomped past them and made them scramble and lose the formation. Benjamin had never in his life seen that guy, but every elementary particle of every atom of every cell in his body screamed fuckboyfuckboyalertalertalert and could only hold in his breath and hoped his presence was a coincidence.
It wasn't.
The guy had enough self-preservation instincts to not bump against Thijmen or anything, but he did shove Martin's shoulder. Above him, Heston whispered, "Oh, shit." For the very first time, he said something that just about conveyed the mood.
"Isn't that one of the gorillas from the soccer team?" mumbled Messiah.
"Oh, shit."
"Oh, shit."
"Thijmen will rescue him," assure Benjamin.
His boyfriend came to a halt just as Martin acknowledged the gorilla's existence. He flinched, and the gorilla snapped something Benjamin couldn't quite decipher, whereupon Thijmen stopped, took in the scene, turned on his heels and came back. "I failed," he said.
Benjamin was stunned. "Y-you're not going to help him?"
"Why should I? He looks like he's having fun."
"He obviously isn't!" hissed Messiah.
"Ah, too bad, too bad." Thijmen walked past them, away from the alley. Since they all were invertebrates in a metaphorical sense, Heston, Messiah and Benjamin scrambled after him.
Kind of. Benjamin stopped. Before anyone else noticed, he skidded backwards and spared a last glance at the alley.
Martin and the fuckboy were gone.
Then he fled back to Thijmen.
They couldn't assemble the squad back together before Thanksgiving break, but 3/5 was good enough. 60%. Almost a passing grade.
To Benjamin, Thanksgiving was just another one of those annual things that had him wishing time went just a little faster so he could go do something he actually enjoyed doing, but to Thijmen, it was uncharted territory.
"You eat turkey with Thanksgiving, right?" he asked. "Then what does Messiah eat?"
That was a question Benjamin often found himself asking, yet he had never gotten an answer. What Messiah ate was a mystery in itself. So, Ben shrugged.
"Is there anything else you do?"
"No, that's it really."
"Seriously?"
"Well, typically, people invite family over and play games."
"Oh, and you don't?"
"Yeah... sadly, we do. But you know, video games are much more fun."
"What kind of people is your family?"
Benjamin pulled up his nose. "You'll see."
Only a day later, some guy from a catering service came to bring the turkey—already stuffed and everything—and Eleanor got busy laying the table. This was her time to shine, so she went all out. She got out her best table cloth and all the gold-rimmed glasses and plates made in the whateverth century. There were a lot of people coming and she would never stop reminding everyone that there was a reason why they celebrated Thanksgiving at their house. They had the biggest one.
Benjamin II was nowhere to be found. Naturally, Benjamin III followed his father's example and hid in a random room, pulling Thijmen inside with him. If they weren't far away enough from his mom, they'd be buried in chores.
"Um, what are we doing?" asked Thijmen.
"Waiting for the guests to arrive," Benjamin replied, while looking around to see what room they were even in. He should have brought his Nintendo Switch. The dust-covered bookcases wouldn't start filling themselves.
At least there were chairs they could sit on. Benjamin's back broke as he tried flipping one over. He heard a sigh behind him and then felt a pair of hands pulling him aside. After Thijmen turned it upright with effort—it had to be made of pure lead—he asked Ben, "When are they arriving then?"
"Not long. Thirty minutes or so."
"Oh, okay."
"Why?"
He shrugged.
"Do you want to do something?"
"No, I just... Like what?"
Benjamin shrugged.
"Okay."
"Like the other time," he explained.
"Ben, what are you talking about?"
"Theater room."
Thijmen stood up and was about to leave when Benjamin pulled him back to the ground. Thijmen could've easily shrugged him off, but complied anyway. He wasn't amused. Benjamin was too embarrassed to say anything and so he just picked on the sleeves of his dress shirt and pretended they were TV show characters and his actual self was watching them through a screen.
"Seriously," Thijmen mumbled.
"W-what?" Stuttering wasn't manly. Benjamin cleared his throat and pretended he had a beard to scratch. He didn't have to look at the side to know he was being stared at.
"You're just so... you."
"I mean, I can't be anyone else."
"Exactly."
Ben hoped that was positive.
"Nonetheless, doing something like in the theater room doesn't sound like a very good idea right now. Your family will be here sooner than you think."
He had a point there. So they killed time on their phones—mostly Ben's, because Thijmen had one of those really old models that crashed when you kept too many apps open. He claimed he didn't need anything else, but the annoyed growls he let out every time it wasn't working properly told a different story.
Just when Ben had started to feel like he'd grow attached to this chair and his boyfriend's hip, the screech of his mother's voice sounded in the distance. "Benji! Thijmen!"
"Seems like it's time to go." Thijmen held out his hand and Ben reluctantly laid his own hand on it. Without any effort, he pulled him up, and Eleanor's screams got louder with every step they took.
"We're coming, ma!"
"Oh, good! We're in the lounge room on the south side!"
"Why not the living room?" Thijmen asked Benjamin.
"Because of the Game of Thrones pillows."
"Oh, I see."
They heard everyone before they saw them. Put two dozen people in one room and there's bound to be some noise. Benjamin forgot they were holding hands a few seconds too late, which was around the time said silence died down, all of a sudden, as though somebody had suddenly muted the TV.
But no, he wasn't outside of a screen.
His mother waved this off, gesturing for them to sit. "That's the exchange student. They started dating like three weeks after they met."
"Kids these days," said his father.
Benjamin broke out coughing.
Okay, so there weren't that many people. The obligatory aunt who never married, grandparents, cousins that ignored Benjamin in favor of game consoles whenever they showed up, metalhead uncle who looked like he had an afro the color of an artificially-flavored strawberry soda, ma's Monopoly Saturday friends and... that was it.
Okay.
He sat down.
"Aren't you going to present him?" asked the metalhead uncle (Mark, for simplicity's sake).
Benjamin was made of iron. Rusty iron. When he moved, his limbs creaked. "Um. Okay. Yes. Hi."
"Kids these days don't know what being straight is like," began his grandma, "back in my day, we—"
Benjamin's mother strategically offered her a drink.
"He's Thijmen," he rasped out, "Thijmen. Thijmen. I, uh, kind of have a hard time pronouncing it. We, uh. Yeah. Thijmen, say something."
One glance at the Dutch boy and the tiny smirk playing around his lips told Benjamin that he was up to something. Oh, no.
"Het spijt me, maar ik spreek geen Engels."
All the jaws in the room were on the floor. Benjamin's cousin, Harry with the Harry Potter glasses, even dropped his cookie. Thijmen looked satisfied with his little prank.
"Does he not speak English?"
At least Benjamin's parents could show a little smile, before they told them that, yes, he did speak English, and the joke was ruined.
Now Thijmen looked a little less satisfied, so Benjamin leaned close and whispered, "I'd say you could speak your demon language to me when we're alone, but I don't really understand it, so... yeah, I don't know where I was going with this, either."
Thijmen ignored him and sat down.
Everyone ignored him and began handing plates here and there, and so Benjamin ignored himself and did the same. For a family where seemingly everyone else was straight, there was sure no major commotion about his own un-straightness. In fact, they didn't really seem to care. Twenty-first century family for the win. Or maybe he was never really meant to have the spotlight in the first place; why else would a giant, dead bird lie in the middle of the table? Benjamin appreciated the turkey. He almost stroked it. He enjoyed eating it.
"What does being gay feel like?" asked one of his cousins (Mark II, for simplicity's sake).
Benjamin was thinking of a civil way to respond when uncle Mark grumbled, "Have some respect."
"I'm just askin'."
"It feels okay," mumbled Benjamin.
Benjamin's mom waved this off dismissively, given her husband was too busy swallowing dead bird. "It's fine. We told them not to do it on the piano."
Benjamin II choked.
Benjamin III choked.
"Change of topic," uncle Mark said, "y'all seen the last Game of Thrones season?"
Benjamin swore he'd never seen a group of people focus on a certain thing so passionately. Where other families were discussing politics, they discussed fantasy series and whether or not the author would finish the next book through a ouija board. While this went on, Thijmen, who was arguably the only one disinterested in the topic, asked, "Is this how it is every year?"
"Pretty much."
"Everywhere?"
"I mean, I don't think many people are that passionate about—"
"I don't mean your nerd crap. I mean..." he trailed off, gesturing at the general scene, "the mood, I guess."
Benjamin squinted. "Why?"
"I just thought the whole happy family bullshit was a movie thing more than anything else."
'Happy family bullshit'.
By now, he'd come to infer some things were better not asked. Benjamin patted his shoulder instead. Out of context and to a stranger this might have been a weird way to react with. It was, really. Loud, talkative families during reunions weren't the only Truth In Television he'd come to discover. Thijmen smiled at him like he understood, and that was enough.
The fluffy bonding moment ended when Mark II asked, "So where is Ti— the exchange student from? Whatever his name is."
"Thijmen," said Thijmen.
"Yeah, where are you from, dude?"
"The underworld."
"Right."
Figuring Thijmen wouldn't be out of this mood anytime soon, Benjamin clarified, "He's Dutch."
Mark's sister, Caroline, perked up. "Are you from Amsterdam?"
"Not everybody who's from the Netherlands is from Amsterdam," Thijmen sighed. "When are people going to learn that?"
Mark opened his mouth.
"And no, I'm not high."
"Oh," said Caroline.
"What do you see in Benjamin?" asked Mark.
Wow, could Mark leave already? He was always out to insult Ben and he was not amused. He huffed and crossed his arms, but nobody paid him any mind.
"What an awfully superb question," Thijmen said as he cut a piece of turkey in two. "What do I see in Benjamin? I have not the slightest idea."
Benjamin poked Thijmen's side. "Hey."
"Hello."
"No, but seriously," Mark prodded. "I'm curious."
And if it wasn't bad enough already, another cousin added himself to the conversation. Cornelius leaned closer, the dress shirt his mother had made him wear hanging in turkey grease, and said, "Me too. Why do you like him?"
Thijmen seemed to have run out of patience. "I just do. Don't ask stupid questions."
"Yes, why would he not like me?" Benjamin said in a sudden burst of confidence, fuelled by Thijmen's annoyance. "I'm simply amazing."
"Did you eat something bad?" Thijmen asked with a concerned look on his face.
And so the confidence withered away. The good thing was that most of the adults were talking about fantasy TV shows. The younglings, however, stared at him.
He found himself asking, "Thijmen, why do you like me?"
"Do I need a reason?" he sighed, and everyone nodded.
"Yes. I want to know."
The cousins watched Thijmen, then Benjamin, like a game of ping-pong. He could've asked this anywhere else. Like literally anywhere else.
But he didn't and to prove he was indeed serious, Benjamin stared Thijmen dead in the eyes (even if he had to hold his own hands tight for courage).
Eventually, Thijmen put his knife down and leaned back in the chair with another sigh. "Well, does anyone really know why they like anybody? I just think you're cute and you make me laugh. Does that suffice?"
"Hmm..."
"Oh, come on."
Perhaps Benjamin had an evil side to him after all, because he quite enjoyed seeing Thijmen get embarrassed for the very first time. He smiled and put his hands under his chin for effect. He was all ears.
"Alright, fine." He took a deep breath. "I like how you can literally go on and on about stuff you like, like your video games and your dragons, because it makes you all bright and happy, and I like how you care so much about your friends, even if they're the weirdest bunch I've seen in my whole life. I like how you never have any idea what you're doing, but you try your best anyway. I like how you are always so yourself, no matter how weird people might think you are. I like how you can link anything that happens to something fictional, because your brain never stops thinking, and how that makes life so much more interesting. And I like your hair."
Benjamin was touching his hair.
"And I just absolutely fucking love how you're putting me on the spot here."
A/N: Here's my attempt at drawing Thijmen: