A new One-shot! ... I've had a lot of inspration for stories lately, and this wasn't one of them -_-
Okay, I actually wrote this a few years back as an original. I read it over the other day and decided to rewrite it, since I feel that my writing has increased exponentially after three years of non-stop writing :p Also, I just wanted to look at the difference between the original, and this piece. It's so cool to do! Also, T=this isn't my best written piece I think, but because of nostalgia reasons, this story (more the original then this one) is extremely close to my heart and extremely loosly based on my personal life. So, please no flames?
I am sorry in advance for any errors that may occur within this story. I am my own editor, and it's sometimes difficult to find all the errors I made while writing :p
Warning: It is a Hurt/Comfort in the slightest form (I really don't know, actually. So nevermind), possible sadness/angst, friendship (so no slash, for once! haha! I told myself I could do it and I did!)
Disclaimer: I do not own Big Time Rush
I like to use my imagination. Sometimes I use it without even realizing it. Whether it's good or bad, it doesn't matter. Because when I use it, everything seems right in the world.
These are the deep thoughts I have as I make my way towards the kitchen from my overly large bedroom on the top floor.
The first thing I notice as I enter the newly remodeled food-making area is the large pie on top of the counter. It's still warm in its pan, the fumes are wafting into the air like a rhythmic gymnast's graceful ribbon. I let my hand wave over the top, and I notice quickly that I can still feel it's warmth. The browning crust and the seeping pieces of some sort of red fruit looking delicious beyond belief. Of course, the look has nothing on the smell that it's creating. God, I want some! I cannot wait until its contents become one with my stomach. I. Want. It. Now!
I turn around to see my Mom, who is standing over a boiling pot, stirring the juicy contents of some sort of Thai soup. Healthy, organic, not-too-fat, non-dairy (unless you include coconut as a dairy?), rice made noodles and oriental. Everything my Mom loves.
"Hey, Honey." My Mom says as she begins to smell the boiling ingredients. I stand by and watch with enthusiasm.
I notice now all the lights in the kitchen are on. That's strange. Lately, Mom has been trying to become one of those 'activist' type of people. You know, they sell more product than your average producer if word gets out that they're helping the environment. It's all a load of crap, but it seems to be working. Or, at least that's what she tells me...
"Dinner should be ready soon. It just needs to cool." She turns and smiles sweetly towards me. "Could you set the table, James? I just want to make sure this gets to the right temperature before serving it." I nod as quickly as I can after the questions pops out of her mouth. I can never say 'No' to my Mom, but this isn't the type of chore that I hate.
On the contraire (a word that I learned when my Mom took me to France for my birthday, last year. I still remember it, haha, I should get an award!), I'm excited to set the table. We haven't had a meal together in months. I mean, we're actually eating a meal together! Dad isn't here, since he's trying to start another random band of his (I think this time it's an R&B music group? Maybe the Blues? One will never know). He's currently touring the Eastern Coast to try and get his unknown self... well, known.
But any who, my Mom is here! She is actually here! She usually works late or is off at some conference somewhere. She loves me to the depths of her soul and back, and calls me every hour on the hour, but we can't spend much time together due to her crazy work schedule. So to say that I'm extremely excited that we're eating a meal together, one that she made, is the understatement of the year.
I quickly set the dinner table to perfection, following all the proper rules of etiquette that Mom pounded into my head since I was a child of four.
I turn on the chandelier lights above our large and expensive mahogany table as Mom walks in with two large bowls of the strange looking soup. I don't complain. Instead, I bring out one of the chairs for my Mom and sit myself down on the opposite end of her, trying to show her that I still remember all those rules of dining that she taught me so many years ago.
Almost in an instant, I begin digging into my soup like some sort of wild animal. It's so good, and warm, and spicy and good! After a few moments, my spoon picks up a long celery-stick looking thing. I turn to my Mom, as I also remove a large lime leaf from my soup and place it against a dry napkin. "Is this edible?" I ask, pointing at the moisturized stickish type thing on my spoon.
She shrugs, chewing a piece of chicken thoughtfully. "It won't harm you, that's for sure. But it will do wonders for your intestinal system." She says almost slyly. So, with caution I bring the stickish thing to my lips, nibbling at the tip gently.
... Oh my-! The taste that automatically comes is overbearing and just all round god awful! Ew! Gross! What the- I throw the stick-thingy down onto a napkin, spitting out it's remains rapidly
Mom just laughs at me loudly, her shoulders bouncing down in recently bought Channel suit. "It's ginger James. It won't harm you, but I wouldn't recommend you eating it."
"Now you tell me." I say as I playfully roll my eyes.
Mom laughs since she knows that my eye roll was all in good fun, and begins biting another small piece of chicken from her soup.
"Anyways, how's school? Anything new on that play you're auditioning for? Or, oh! What about that girl... Jessica? Jasmine? Jade was it?
I wave her off, gesturing that she is at the completely wrong side of the spectrum of guessing the correct name.
"First of all, I did get the lead in Sound of Music. Mr. Swatson just told me today." I say with a huge smile, dropping my metal spoon into the soup from my instant excitement. The warm liquid splashes and bounces onto the table in quite a few droplets, but neither Mom nor I actually care about the mess I just created. "And Veronica did ask me out today. We're going on a double date with her friend and boyfriend on Friday." I explain with a ease, making sure to add emphasis on 'Veronica', since I know that's a name my Mom likes.
"She better treat you right, or else you know what will happen." Mom says sternly, pointing her spoon with authority at my body.
I raise an eyebrow. "The Prom Date Pamela Situation will reoccur?"
"Uh-huh." She agrees. "Didn't like her. She was an obviously fake blond and her roots were showing. Too much make-up and too much breasts, not enough class." Mom says with a shrug.
Oh yes, Prom Date Pamela. Mom sent her away as soon as she saw her, which forced me to go to prom alone.
Well, that was embarrassing... Especially since it wasn't even my prom.
It was hers.
Luckily, I still got in and found a date by the end of the night. Being a handsome/cute/sporty/classy/flirtatious and charming sophomore definitely had its advantages.
"Yup, if I don't like her, I'll send her flying home as if I hit a home run during a baseball game. Also, I was wondering how you did on that essay? The one I helped you with over the phone when I was in Atlanta last week?" She asks through a spoonful of her soup.
"Oh yeah! I got a 92%!" I reply over enthusiastically... I really am the dramatic one of my group, aren't I? Well, then I guess it's just second nature to be over the top right now! It's just- dinner, Mom, questions about my life. This never happens! I'm completely overwhelmed.
"A 92%? That deserved at least 100% if not more! That was gold! I just- you know, I should go in and talk to that Teacher of yours, because he's obviously doing something wrong. That was an amazing essay... a 92%? Really?"
I meekly nod my head, and before I can anything else, my Mom just shrugs, which ultimately shocks me. Mom never lets up on that sort of thing for at least a week. "Well, it's an A! You worked your butt off and that's all I can really ask for." She says as she smiles, dabbing her mouth with her clean napkin.
I nod, happy as can be. "Thanks Mom... You know, I kind of miss this." I admit, pointing between me and her as she cocks her head to the side in confusion. "I mean, you and Dad are away so much that we never do this, spend time together or eat dinner together. It's nice." I say thoughtfully, picking up a spoonful of soup and dropping it's liquidy contents back into the bowl. Mom stares at me with wide and saddened eyes. "Oh, James." She says apologetically.
She gets up out her seat and walks over to my side, bringing me in for a hug. "I miss it to. But we're doing this for you, to try and give you everything you ever need and want, Honey. And you know, when my business takes off or your Dad finally books a show, we'll be able to eat more dinners together, I promise. But just try to remember that we love you and that you're never far from our thoughts, alright? We're doing this for you." She reminds me while putting quite a bit of emphasis on the 'you' in her sentence. She kisses the top of my forehead apologetically.
"How about I cut that pie? And then maybe we can just sit down and watch a movie together or something?" She suggests, her hand on top of my shoulder lovingly.
"Ya, that sounds nice." I say, my smile still stupidly wide.
She leaves my side, but her touch remains against my shoulders. It's as if she's still there.
Suddenly I hear my front entrance door slam open and shut, feet stomping past the dining room area where I am currently sitting.
"Hey James!" A voice chirps loudly. The boisterous feet belong to my blond headed friend as he bounces into the kitchen behind me. He acts like he lives here, sometimes. Then again, he is my best friend. Actually, he's practically been like my brother since we were in pre-school together. It would be weird if he didn't think of this house as his own home... I mean, he's here almost every day, same with Carlos and Logan, too. We're all inseparable and know every last detail of one another. That's just how we are.
I'm incredibly lucky to have them.
I hear the fridge open and shut as he grabs a bottle of water. Then he decides to finally make his presence known as he trots into the dining room, standing near my side as he places an arm against my shoulder, leaning his entire weight onto me.
I notice immediately how his large eyebrows fur together in question.
"Did you just finish eating or something?" He asks, pointing to my bowl of soup.
I glance down, looking at the bare wooden table. Suddenly, everything has disappeared in nothingness. There is no napkin near me with that stickish-thing (or ginger as my Mom had seemingly called it) that lay on top of the white cloth, soaking it's dry linen. The seat opposite from me is free from the knives, forks, spoons and a bowl of soup that I thought me and my Mom had placed there prior. The chair, also opposite from me, is up right against the table as if I hadn't moved it out for my Mom in the first place.
The white bowl in front of me is pristine and clean to the brim. Not a crumb nor a drop of the warm, Thai soup could be found in its depths.
Slowly, as reality begins to seep back into me, I glance around.
All the lights are off. The evening sun blazing through the various windows is the only illumination that seems to lighten the rooms of my extremely large house. Also, there is no warm, beautiful smell lingering within the air.
The pie was never made in the first place.
That's when the pain begins again, filling my veins to the brim.
"Hey, where is everyone?" Kendall asks cautiously, looking around the room.
I can feel the tears starting up, because worst of all, there is no 'Mom' by my side asking me about my school day, or girls, or that essay, or hugging me or telling me that she loves me. And then I remember what she said a few days ago when she left for the airport. She was leaving for a few weeks. It was all in the name of a new promotion in a city far away from the small town of Sherwood, Minnesota. In other words, she was away for a long time, yet again.
In the moments of silence that follow Kendall's question, my mouth opens and closes, unsure of how to answer. The tears, just as they begin to glaze over my eyes, are gone in a flash. I turn to Kendall, a sheepish smile masking the emotion on my face as I shrug with contempt.
"Mom's gone to New York to promote her latest product again." I answer confidently, as if this entire situation didn't just occur.
"And your Dad?" He asks with worry, taking a slow sip of his water.
"Oh, you know my Dad. Always trying to be the rock star."
Kendall laughs loudly, trying to remove all the embarrassment and tension that I am beginning to feel. "Hehh, like father like son, huh?" He says lightly, shoving me shoulder in a boyish manner.
I turn and instantly punch him in the arm. Gently, of course.
I stand up from my seat and point at myself with all the confidence in the world, all the while giving him the 'Ya right' face. "Uh, no. I'm actually going to become famous, unlike him."
Kendall laughs at me. I'm not sure if it's because the dream is stupid and might never come true, or because the idea of Son beating Father for the prize of worldwide fame is funny to him. We both have the same dream, it's just an uncertainty as to who's going to get there first.
Finally Kendall sighs loudly, placing his body close to mine. He swings his lanky arm over my shoulder protectively, as if to say that 'It's alright, I'm here'.
"You... You were pretending again, weren't you?" He never once looks into my eyes as he stares at the ground, awaiting my answer.
Within his brotherly embrace, I sheepishly nod my head while it begins to hang low and against my chest with unease.
I can hear Kendall exhale loudly, looking for something to calm to situation that seems to keep re-occurring in my daily life. Luckily for me, Kendall, Logan and Carlos always seem to come in and pull me out of that imagined place before I get too far away from reality.
"Well," he chirps in at long last. "Me, Logan and Carlos are going to play some hockey at the rink. Carlos' Dad got us some skating time. Want to come?"
And just like that, the tension is seemingly gone and forgotten. The sadness has passed momentarily, and I begin thinking about the fun times coming up with my friends.
"Ya, dude! Just let me get my stuff!" The sadness is still looming around my form, but is forgotten for a short time being. Kendall's good like that. He knows that I'd rather not talk about it, but he helps in his own way. And whatever way that is, it puts my mind onto something else and not on the fact that I miss my parents and want them home. It gets me away from the endearing thoughts that force me to realize that, hey, guess what; I'm lonely.
And as we make our way to the rink, giggling all the way about some chick's C sized breasts bouncing up and down during gym class which, in return, gave Logan a boner (we have yet to let him live that one down), I couldn't help but to think through the scenario that took place in my kitchen and dining room table. And usually it's when I begin to think deeply about anything that I have to be worried.
So, walking down the sidewalk with Kendall, I just run over the recent realization that has finally occurred to me.
Sometimes my imagination likes to go against me. It may end with harsh consequences, but when I use it, everything seems right in the world.
My shortest piece yet! Awesome! Annnnd, tell me what you think?
Also, I suck with ratings, and I have no idea what rating this should be. A 'T' or a 'K+'... Help?
This did make me tear up though. Why am I always such a bitch to James? And I'll admit, that there was a point a few years back when my parents worked and were away a lot, and were never home. So this is basically where this story comes from, except I never pretended/imagined anything. It was just kind of a disappointing fact that they weren't there. Nahhh well! All is good now :p
Potential review? :)