43) 'Martin Is The Gayest Character In The Book' And Other Conclusions Worthy Of A Scientific Law
Up until a few months ago, there had been a kind of person Benjamin had looked at as though they were aliens. They'd do this thing where they'd talk to strangers without melting on the inside, cracking jokes as though they were a script, and, all of a sudden, they would make new friends. He'd almost come to the conclusion (courtesy of the squad) that those kinds of people ought to have sold their soul to the devil.
A few days ago, he'd asked Thijmen. Thijmen had, very calmly, denied the claim. Benjamin believed him. Thijmen just happened to be that kind of person, and during times like these it showed.
Times like these being dinner.
A few months ago, his parents huddled in a corner and screamed (internally). As of now, they seemed to be finding Thijmen's story about Koningsdag to be way funnier than it should have been. Probably. It could also be that Benjamin leaned at the very far opposite of the spectrum, along those who cried (externally) at the prospect of having to talk to someone.
He used to be there.
Used to.
Dinner with the Emsworths had gone from arguments about Daenerys to awkward silence to Dutch stereotypes to good old storytime. Breakfast, admittedly, wouldn't be that much different were it not for Thijmen's incompatibility with mornings and the fact Benjamin's parents underwent character regression whenever they stayed up late which, based on the incoherent screaming at three in the morning, happened more often than not.
All in all though, Thijmen was a good thing. A very good thing. One of the best things.
"People are just sitting all around town, wearing orange clothing, eating pastries that are impossible to eat, and trying to sell their crap to other people."
"But why?" asked Eleanor.
Thijmen raised his shoulders. "I don't know. It's not like they have anything valuable or interesting to sell, and all that stuff is either going to be thrown away or sold onto another person the next year."
Benjamin II slapped the table. "That's so pointless!"
"Dutch people are weird," Eleanor noted.
"And they drink a lot of beer."
"You should definitely show us around on this... strange national holiday. I'm sure it's quite the party."
Thijmen pulled a face that said he disagreed.
"Yes, you could be our tour guide!"
"Sure, I'll be your tour guide," he relented, smiling behind the back of his hand.
Which was why, for the first time in his life, Benjamin wasn't looking forward to the end of the school year.
One would assume that, after last time's fallout, Thijmen's sessions to the counselor would diminish. But no. If anything, they were at their peak. Benjamin couldn't go with him again, though, of course.
Of course.
"How much did you get in the French final?" asked Martin.
"A hundred," said Pi.
"Ninety-five," said Messiah.
"What test?" asked Heston.
They all turned to look at Benjamin so he'd keep the streak up. He didn't, though. While not sulking, per se, he definitely wasn't doing favors to his mood by picking crumbs off his sandwich and staring at the floor. His friends weren't doing favors, either, by talking about a test he'd bombed despite Thijmen's help. Martin mumbled, "Damn."
"How much did you get?"
"None of your business, punk."
"Oh."
While Messiah and Martin conversed, Heston stretched, then slunk back on his seat. "Two months," he mumbled, to his imaginary friend, "two months and we're out."
For once, his contributions were welcomed.
"Right?"
"Fucking finally."
"Benjamin is sulking again," Pi noted, "what is it now? Ben?"
Two months.
"U-uh. I did bad on my test?"
Martin snorted. "How is that any different from the usual?"
"I'm just... disappointed."
"Yes, how is that any different from the—"
"Shut up."
"Whoa."
"Ben, are you okay?" asked Messiah.
No, he wasn't okay. Thijmen would be leaving soon—way too soon—and it sucked, but there was nothing he could do about it, so he said, "Yes."
"Your speech level is embarrassingly low," Martin whispered. "That was a shit lie."
It's not like his friends could help, either. There was no point in talking about it. That's what Thijmen would say. He was kind of a genius.
"It's nothing," Benjamin said.
The squad sighed, and maybe Benjamin's speech level was higher than anticipated, because they actually let it go. Or maybe they were just so fed up with his sulking that they'd stopped caring, which was reasonable.
And, really, it wouldn't have helped.
Four hours later, Benjamin sat in his room and Thijmen had been sitting next to him, but he got hungry and left, so this was sort of like how it would be when Thijmen left, but to Spinkylinky, not the kitchen. Benjamin moped, slipped off the bed and made his way over to his boyfriend, raiding the fridge, then the cupboard. Ultimately, he settled with a roll of cookies.
"Do you want one?"
"No. Yes. No."
"Okay." Thijmen shoved a cookie into Benjamin's mouth.
Ben smiled, with the cookie in his mouth, and wrapped his arms around Thijmen, who put the cookie roll down and returned the hug. He remained silent for a whole three seconds, before he asked, "What's this for?"
"Nothing," Benjamin replied, still cookieful. If he said it was nothing often enough, it might actually become nothing. It was nothing. It was nothing. Nothing mattered. Everyone and everything died at the end, even the universe, and so would everyone who had fallen in love and out of it and made stories about it. So it was nothing.
"I don't believe that."
"It's true."
"No it's not, Ben. It's clearly not nothing."
"I flunked a test."
"How is that different from the usual?"
He felt attacked, but that was okay. "I like hugging people," said Benjamin, which, he realized soon enough, became the last nail in his coffin.
Thijmen pulled away and stared at him with one eyebrow raised as if to say, "Really?"
"Hugging is... nice."
"Can't argue with that, but... you never hug... anyone. Not even me."
Benjamin frowned. Did he never hug Thijmen? He should hug him more often then. He leaned forward to squeeze his arms around him again, and the boy let out a sigh so deep it felt like Benjamin was pushing the air out of his lungs.
"Benjamin."
"It's nothing."
For a moment, it seemed like Thijmen would keep prodding, but he just tightened his arms around him. "What can I do to help you with this 'nothing' you speak of?"
"Nothing."
"Great."
"It's okay. No one can. It's nothing personal."
At this, Thijmen laughed.
Six days.
Six days and Thijmen had actually laughed. He couldn't believe it. His parents were also laughing and Thijmen kept making jokes, because nothing mattered, and Benjamin cut his steak into teeny-tiny triangles to represent his emotional state. "Stop playing with your food," Benjamin II scolded.
"I think he's making swastikas," noted his mother.
"Stop making swastikikis."
"They're triangles," was Benjamin's reply, and he shaped them up Triforce-style to make a point, but since no one but Thijmen caught the reference, he was scolded again for making swastikiki triangles and, thus, receded into himself. He'd make hexagons, because six days, but his parents would probably associate this with summoning demons and make him bathe in the local church's holy water supply every day until the six days were over, and they couldn't afford that now.
Or, well, maybe he was overreacting. It wouldn't be a first. Maybe Thijmen's apparent disregard was how normal people reacted. His parents weren't normal people, so Benamin couldn't use them as reference.
Speaking of which, he'd never really heard the voices of Thijmen's parents (marents?) prior to two days ago. It had been... odd, to say the least.
What had Thijmen told them then?
Nothing mattered nothing mattered nothing mattered.
It'd hurt less if Thijmen didn't act like so casual about the whole thing damn it.
"So? Ben?"
"Four days," was his reply.
Pi groaned. "He's been like that all week. I told him school doesn't end until two months from now, but no, he's all 'six days five days four days' and I already checked if it's some game server going down, but—"
Maybe due to the end of the school year preying on them, maybe not, Heston had recuperated his horse mask. Heston was wearing his horse mask. He'd probably un-recuperate it again soon. As of now, he slapped Pi with its mouth and replied, "End of the world."
Benjamin wasn't even working on the Cows Are People Too!!! pamphlets like the rest of the squad. Messiah, thankfully, didn't pressure him to. Martin, thankfully, seemed to be too busy with Theo to pester them lately. Thijmen was nowhere to be seen—probably doing popular things at the back of the school building like smoking or watching tentacle porn. This was for the better.
"You can Skype each other," proposed Messiah, "it's not the end of the world, Ben."
"It is," replied Heston. The way his voice echoed through the mask only added to the effect.
Benjamin said, "You don't get it."
"Also, cows aren't people."
Messiah shot Heston a look. "All animals are people."
"Yeah, even Dutch people."
Benjamin shot Heston a look. "You're wearing a horse mask. You're one to speak."
"Even Benjamin."
"He's trying to distract you," Pi explained, doodling a cow at the edge of his pamphlet. Heston slapped him again, but it was too late. Up until then, Ben had, in effect, been distracted.
Right.
Wow.
"The thing is..." he trailed off.
The Martinless squad turned to look at him.
"...I, uh. Um. Pi?"
"What happened?"
"You said you grew distant from your girlfriend and broke up right?"
Pi and Messiah exchanged glances. The focus of Heston's own gaze remained a mystery. "Well..." Pi bit his lip. He doodled another cow. "...it's... it's different, I think."
"How?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
Compare and contrast to when he'd mentioned it, oh-so-casually back during Thijmen's two-week absence. It had been different then, perhaps. This time around, it was Benjamin and Messiah exchanging glances. Heston took off the mask. Everyone expected him to say something deep and thoughtful that would finish in a bonding moment, but he just burped. "That's fine," said Benjamin, "nothing matters."
Instead of addressing this, Pi continued, "I just don't understand why you're so affected all of a sudden. Ben, you knew this was coming. What's the problem?"
He'd say 'you don't understand' again but, well. Pi did. He should know. Out of all people, he should know. Benjamin shook his head. "I don't wanna walk about it."
"BUT YOU JUST—"
Heston horsemaskslapped Pi before he could finish.
"You'll see," Benjamin informed, just as Pi snatched the horse mask and threw it away as far as he could in rage.
Nothing mattered.
He was overreacting because Thijmen was underreacting. Because nothing mattered, that night, Benjamin roller-kicked Thijmen's door open and found him Skyping with a stereotypically blond girl. They both stopped and looked at Benjamin; Thijmen said something in Netherlandese and held out a hand towards Benjamin.
"Oh, hij heeft sproeten!" said the girl on the screen.
Thijmen sighed and replied, "Ja, dat zei ik toch? Je luistert ook nooit naar me."
"Who is that?" Benjamin asked.
The girl leaned closer to the screen with a smile and said, "I'm Lieke, Thijmen's sister."
"Oh."
"Has he never shown you what I look like?"
"I have," Thijmen said. "He forgets."
He hadn't expected this. It was a different thing when talking to his marents on the phone. No face. Lieke had Thijmen's eyelids. Benjamin wasn't prepared. All resentment bubbled off into oblivion. "I-I'm," he began, "I'm. Je swees Benjam—"
"Hij is verlegen," interjected Thijmen.
Benjamin didn't have to know Dutch to understand. "Hi."
"Hi," said Lieke.
"I, uh, I will leave you two alone."
"No, come here," Thijmen said, reaching out for him so he was forced to step closer to the screen and take place beside him, but then Benjamin struggled, Thijmen released him and he rolled all the way to the floor. "Ben? Are you okay?"
Benjamin had for some very strange reason landed so that his butt was in the air and his face on the floor, so he wasn't okay. Lieke said something he could not understand again. Didn't these siblings know talking in other languages in front of someone who couldn't understand was impolite? Kind of like those Mexicans who'd called Benjamin a pinche gringo on a forum once. Very impolite. Benjamin was angry. He sat up, pretended his dignity was intact and said, "No."
"Let me help you u—"
"No."
Thijmen sighed.
"How are you okay?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Why are you pretending like you don't know what I'm talking about?"
"Because I don't know what you're talking about."
"Should I leave?" asked Thijmen's sister.
Benjamin couldn't be bothered. He squinted at Thijmen and said, "Yes, you know what I'm talking about."
"I clearly don't, or I wouldn't be asking, Ben!"
"And why are you raising your voice now? You're the betrayer here, not me. Traitor. Not betrayer. I mean traitor. You traitored me."
"I'm lost."
"Betrayed. You betrayed me."
Thijmen, thus, shifted his attention back to his sister. "Lieke, ik bel je later wel terug."
She said okay and the screen turned black. Benjamin's utter incompetence at being angry had de-angered him. He didn't feel like attacking anymore. Too bad. Now Thijmen stared at him as if asking, explain?
"Do you not like me?"
Thijmen frowned.
"It's okay if you don't. I don't mind. I never liked you. I was just using you."
Ignoring this, Thijmen sat down on his bed. He didn't react. Maybe he was just hiding it and was dying on the inside. If he did like Benjamin then he would've screamed, "NOOO!" and started crying, but since all he did was stare at the wall, Benjamin figured his assumptions were correct. He couldn't come up with a second part to his evil revelation quick enough for it to seem real, though.
"I never liked you, either," Thijmen replied, "I was just using you."
"WHAT!?"
"I have a redhead fetish."
"I knew it!"
"I'm sorry, Ben. I should've told this to you sooner."
Benjamin fell to his knees and pounded his fists against the floor. "Especially the rolls of fat," Thijmen continued.
Benjamin stopped screaming and punching the floor and stared at him.
"Uh. Too far?"
"Yeah."
"I'm sorry."
He wouldn't be wandering around shirtless anytime soon. Not that he did, either way, but now such event was out of the question. Thijmen had lost the right to manhandle him. And his red hair. And his pudge. Not rolls of fat. P-U-D-G-E. Now he was angry again. Benjamin scrambled up and said, "You're acting like nothing bad is happening and now I know why I can't believe this I believe in you but you just like me because I have redhead I mean I am a red hair how could you and I was wondering why you didn't seem to care I hope someone smothers you with his rolls of fat someday."
"Jesus, Benjamin, I was just joking. I don't care about your weight. What bad things are happening?"
"I'm not fat screw you gay shit."
The moment Thijmen grabbed his wrists, though, he froze. Benjamin was too angry at being traitored to slump like Jell-O. It'd worked last time. "Bennie."
And, somehow, despite the tone, it did make him slump like Jell-O on the inside. Thijmen was unfair. 'Benjamin' would've worked just fine, but of course, of course he had to go with 'Bennie'. Of course. "Y-you—" that wasn't a good start, "—are you. Do you. The kind of. Are you the kind of person who. Wait, you are. I think."
Thijmen just waited.
"I'm not mad anymore."
Thijmen didn't release him.
"So you're pretending to be happy but you're sad because you're leaving? Is that it?"
"Benjamin, I'm leaving in two months. Why are you making a big deal out of this now?"
Benjamin glared at him. A lack of experience made him pout and scrunch his eyebrows as much as he could in an attempt to make it more threatening. "So it doesn't matter?"
"I'm trying to take you seriously, but that face isn't helping."
"So now on top of calling me fat you're insulting my face how dare—"
"Your expression. I meant your expression—right now, before you take it out of context again. Fuck's sake."
"Okay." He stopped glaring. Thijmen did not. This was going nowhere. "Is it because you're leaving in four days? And not tomorrow?"
"What?"
"Is it because you're leaving in four days? And not to—"
"I heard you." Thijmen finally released him. "I heard you the first time. What are you talking about?"
Benjamin sat back on the bed, because he could, and because his stolen pillow was there and so was his capacity to think. He hugged the pillow. "What are you talking about?"
"What are you talking about?"
"What are y—"
"What is this thing about me leaving in four days? Where did you get that from?"
He squeezed the pillow. "Your marents."
"Marents."
"I just said that."
"Wait, did you talk to my moms?"
"I just said that."
Thijmen sighed.
"And that's what they said. Monday. You're leaving on Monday." As he spoke, Benjamin's voice dropped in volume. By the end of his speech, it was almost a whisper. "Why'd you hide it?"
"I-I..." His eyes were wide. "I didn't... Ben, I didn't hide it. I didn't know!"
"But they told us! How could you not know!?"
"I don't know when they told 'us', but I wasn't there!"
He'd gone back to raising his voice. Figures. They both were.
Thijmen didn't know.
Of course. He hadn't known. His reaction validated this the way no words would ever be able to. Bad Benjamin. He didn't regain the ability to breathe correctly until Thijmen seemed to lose his own.