Walking Backward

(Monday Afternoon, June 17th)

"This is your first public appearance in months," the brown haired interviewer informs. "You haven't even given any statements to the press." Ben merely smiles in response, before the blue eyed man assumes, "I'm sure everyone would love to know how you've been."

"I'm fine," he slightly nods.

"That's it?" the reporter disbelieves. "Tell us something. Where have you been? What have you been doing?"

"Mostly just school work." Ben wets his lips, "I will be able to be more… politically focused this summer." before his eyes shift. "Hopefully."

"You make your months sound mundane," he laughs off, and Ben's expression completely falls. This was a bad idea. His vocabulary really isn't where it needs to be. "We all know you broke your arm. How did that happen?"

"It was my shoulder," Ben corrects, before his eyes lower in thought. "I fell down some stairs at the castle."

After he stops the man prompts, "And how did that happen?"

Ben faces him with a frown, "I was walking backward." but then his eyes shift again. "I should have been more careful."

"It seems hard on you, remembering it."

Ben meets his eyes, "The hard part was the concussion. It made my speaking skills less… Well, uh, I wasn't allowed to talk to the public, because my parents thought what I said could be misunderstanded."

"I see," the interviewer slowly says, before his eyebrows rise. "So, the rumor that your girlfriend pushed you down those stairs is a lie?"

Ben narrows his eyes, "Mal didn't do this to me."

"So, who did?" he shifts his seating, interested.

Ben loudly responds, "I—" before his eyes dart to the camera and then to the ground as his voice quiets. "I did. It's my fault."

"And you're sure about that?"

"I should have been more careful," he repeats in stress.

"Pretty accident prone, aren't you?" he smiles. "That cut on your foot four years ago which hospitalized you, that horrid bruise you got from tourney practice a couple years ago, and now you fall down the stairs?"

Ben recalls stepping on the broken glass and how the blood had flowed from his foot, before he merely frowns, "Yes."

"But you're doing better now," the reporter assumes.

"Better?" Ben questions in insecurity. "Yes."

"Well, let me just say on the behalf of the—" His words speed up, and Ben stares at his lips as it makes the incomprehensible sounds.

When the man stops Ben leans his head forward, "Pardon?"

"Do you disagree?" his eyebrows rise again.

He's trapped. If he makes another undecided comment, he won't appear strong. He has to take a strong stance, but what did that guy even say? If he takes the wrong side, then the backlash could be awful. What is he supposed to say? It's a yes or no question. He has to think of the context. It was about how he got injured a lot, and then he confirmed he was better. The reporter said that on the behalf of someone he was going to say something. He said something. It had to have been something about how he's getting better. Ben wets his lips, "Yes. I agree." as he feels his heart race.

"It's good to have you back," the brown-haired man nods, before he gestures to the cameras, "and speaking to us all."

"Uh, yeah," Ben nervously laughs. "I've been gone long."

"Too long," he loudly chuckles, and Ben holds his grin; however, then the reporter's expression turns solemn. "As great as it is to see you here again, there is a serious subject to cover that you have yet to comment on."

"Which one?" Ben frowns.

"The attack on Princess Audrey by your girlfriend," he explains. "I think your country would like an official statement from you now that your girlfriend has indeed been charged guilty of the sexual assault."

"Attempted sexual assault," he corrects. "And all she did was try to kiss her. For heat, no less. It wasn't sexual at all."

"But what terror the princess must've felt," he painfully emotes, and Ben tilts his head in annoyance. This guy always overdoes it. This network always needs a story. "Don't you think it was wrong for your girlfriend Mal, the daughter of the villain who put Princess Audrey's kingdom under a sleeping curse for a hundred years, to assault the princess like this?"

"Attempted assault," Ben corrects again. This guy's really pushing it. He's purposely putting him in a corner, and Ben can feel the heavy air pushing in on him.

"That's what I said," he smirks.

"Mr. Roberts," Ben stares him down, "as much as I don't like what happened, I also don't like that hybrids aren't given proper…"

"So, you're siding with the princess now?" the man interrupts.

"Resources. Resources," Ben stresses. "If hybrids were given proper resources to take care of their needs, then this kind of thing wouldn't happen."

"Well, you're king," he calmly responds. "If you don't like it, then why not change it?"

A tingling sensation runs over Ben's skin. He clutches the arms of the leather seat. He could stand right now and go over there to bite into his neck, and this hyper feeling would melt away as the blood floods his mouth and he becomes blissfully ignorant to his surroundings. Yes. He must be crazy. Ben shakes his head, before he recalls the question, "It's not that easy."

"And the apartments for the homeless?"

"Working on it," Ben plainly states.

The reporter places a hand to the com in his ear, looking off to the ground, before he faces Ben again, "Back to your girlfriend—"

"Pardon," he unsurely interrupts, "but I really don't feel right talking for Mal."

"Of course, not," the interviewer bypasses. "We'd like to hear your thoughts."

It takes a long minute for Ben to say, "I said my thoughts. Hybrids need to have better healthcare— any care at all. This wasn't all Mal's fault. It was mine for not taking care of her needs, and it was my father's for not giving hybrids easier… to give them an able way to get checked out so that their needs can be met and enough resources so that they have the help."

"That's the thing that irks me," the reporter makes a face. "When a vampire preys on humans without consent, it's taken just as serious as rape. So, what makes your girlfriend so special that when she preys on a human without consent, then it shouldn't be taken seriously?"

"I never said it wasn't serious," Ben denies. "I'm just saying that there's a reason why these things happen, and it's the way things are set up. Sticking with vampires, a vampire can't drink from a human without going to city hall and filing the paper work. It's like a marriage, but people don't need to get married. Vampires need blood. It gets in the way."

"It's there to protect the human," he reminds him. "Someone has to check in on the donor and vampire to make sure they're being safe."

"Like sex," Ben nods, "but you don't need someone to check on you then."

The reporter half laughs, "I'd hardly compare a blood donation to physical intimacy."

"I believe two consenting people have a right to do what they want," Ben reinforces.

"The contract keeps the human safe," he disbelieves.

"The contact keeps the human from coming forward if something bad happens," Ben proclaims. "When they sign it, they are giving up the rights to their body, and they may not know how or when they can change their mind." Ben nods, "If they sign it, it's their fault if they get killed… in their heads." before he folds his hands. "That doesn't help anyone."

"So, you and your girlfriend don't have a contract?" he unsurely asks.

It takes him a moment to answer, "There is no contract for Mal's needs."

"So, there's nothing stopping her from hurting you?" Ben looks off in thought, and the reporter questions, "Or has she hurt you already?"

Ben faces him, "Mal and I aren't always good to each other, but there's no ill… no evil behind it. It's just something we need to work on, and it's in no way one-sided."

"So, you've both hurt each other?" he peruses.

"Yes."

"Can you clarify that for us, give some examples perhaps?"

It takes Ben a moment to process the sentence, "I, uh." before he clears his throat and rubs his hands over each other. "Well. Mal has had some bad times that I've been quick to forget, and she gets upset when I don't know I'm reminding her of those things."

"What kind of things?"

"I'm not at liberty to say," Ben immediately responds. "It's Mal's story, and she has the right to say as much or as little as she's comfortable to it."

"And the ways she's hurt you?" he inquires. "Are you not allowed to speak about any of that either?"

"No." Ben lets out a breath, "Uh-em." before he looks between the camera and the reporter. "To be clear, Mal has not hurt me any more than I've hurt her, and I don't want her to get in trouble for us not being good at talking to each other."

"Of course," he prods on.

Ben nods before hesitantly answering, "Mal knows what she wants, and that's not a bad thing at all, but…" His eyes shift, and his frown deepens, "I'm not as… to say an outdated saying, she wears the pants in the… relationship. In our relationship I have a hard time saying what I do or don't want, because it's not like I don't want it. It's just that sometimes I'm not feeling good enough for it."

"Are you saying she sexually assaulted you?" he surprises.

"Nothing happened," Ben quickly comments, before he pauses. "What I'm saying is that Mal and me aren't perfect, and we need to talk better to each other. It's just something we need to work on, like I said before."

"But if what you said it true," he asserts, "that you both hurt each other, then that doesn't sound like a healthy relationship."

"No relationship is healthy," Ben retorts.

The man laughs, "I know a few couples who would disagree with you."

"Then, I guess, it's just me," he irritably responds. "Because, I have yet to see anyone I know to be a healthy relationship."

"So, your parents don't have a healthy relationship?" he suggests, and Ben is put off-guard. "You did say you don't know anyone who's in a healthy relationship."

"I'd rather not talk about my parents," Ben mutters.

"Why not?" Ben opens his mouth to answer, but before he can the man speaks again. The words are fast, and by the time Ben's able to interpret the first half of the first sentence the reporter has already finished his second one. Ben's mouth gapes, and his eyebrows furrow when the man continues talking.

He shouts in French, "Would you shut up?" and the interviewer's words halt, his expression a stunned frown. Ben takes a deep breath as he brings a hand to his forehead, before he straightens up and meets the reporter's blue eyes, continuing in English, "Please. Can we just take our time with this, one question at a time?"

"Of course, King Ben," he unsurely states. "My apologies."

Ben informs, "I don't want to talk about my parents, because it's not my place to." before his eyes shift. "What was your second question again?"

It takes a minute for the man to comment, "You yelled something in French. Could you interpret that for our audience?"

Ben wets his lips, "I asked if you could slow down."

"And why's that?"

"Because," he faces him, quiet for a moment. "French is my first language, and after the stairs I've had a hard time with English. This talk we had is hard… I can't keep up."

"But you're bilingual," he comments in confusion.

Ben continues to frown, and it takes him a minute to remember the word, "My, uh, what I think bilingual is, is someone who grew up with two languages. Me, I learned English in grade school, and we never really said it at home."

His mouth widens as his eyes peer at him in doubt, quietly questioning, "Your parents never taught you English?"

Ben's eyes shift, "No." before he tilts his head and blankly stares at the reporter. "No. They didn't."