Normal (Monday Night, July 1st)

"So, this eating problem," Mal questions, "how does dinner work?"

"It's not a problem," Ben denies. "I'll be fine."

When they enter the dining room, Belle stands, "Mal." and she waits for her to face her. "May I speak with you in the kitchen for a moment?"

Mal watches Ben and Evie sit down next to each other, before she looks back at Belle, "It can't be done here?"

"Well," she thinks. "If you'd like."

She shakes her head, "Why not?"

"I wanted to ask," Belle explains, "about the wine cabinet."

"Oh, yeah." Mal recalls, "I stole from you. Are we done now?"

"Not quite," Belle frowns. "I know you have a problem, and I'd like to help."

"And how are you supposed to do that?"

"By keeping you from what we've been given," she evenly answers. "I just wanted to inform you that we will be putting a lock on it."

"You know, I could just hypnotize you to take it off and give me a bottle," Mal counters.

"Perhaps," Belle lets out a breath. "But I'm going to ask that you don't do that."

Mal continues to stare at her, "You don't need to worry. I have money. I just didn't feel like walking to the store."

"You're supposed to tell me," Jay reminds her. "We're supposed to share the bottle."

Mal gives him a look, "Well, I was alone by myself, and I didn't feel like sharing." before she turns back to Belle. "Are we done now?"

She nods, "For now." before she sits back down and Mal sits next to Ben.

He turns to her, "You stole wine from us?"

Mal partly smiles, "Maybe I wasn't in control of myself."

Evie gapes at her, "What's wrong with you? Are you drunk or something?"

"More like she ran out," Jay informs. "And it's everyone's fault but her own."

"Shut up," Mal yells at him. "You took half of it, remember, and you won't buy us any more with your ID."

"Because, I'm trying to help you," he frowns at her. "You told me to do this."

"Hell, I did," she shouts. "What are you going to do next? Break all of Hook's product, so he can come after us again?"

Evie notices her expression completely fall, "Mal."

She puts up a hand for Evie to stop, but it slowly closes as her mouth gapes, "I, uh." She shakes her head, "I have to go."

"Mal." She stands from the table, and Evie calls after her, "M." as she enters the hall.

When Evie stands to go after her, Ben questions, "You're not going to eat?"

She sighs, "Let's not do this tonight." before she rushes to Mal's room, goes inside, and find her in the bathroom.

"It was my fault," Mal cries, as she holds the blade in her hand. "If I didn't steal from Hook, then Jay would have never broken it. He would never gotten kidnapped, and—"

"Mal," Evie steps into the bathroom. "You can't keep blaming yourself."

"Who am I supposed to blame?" she inquires. "Jay?"

"Or you could move on," Evie thinks up.

Her frown deepens, "I remember everything." before she half laughs. "Well, everything I'm not supposed to. I couldn't pass a math test to save my life."

"It's not like you're ever going to need to know the property name for exchanging numbers in a formula, anyway," Evie rolls her eyes.

"I just wish I could forget," Mal whispers. "Forget Hook, everything that happened. The first— only time— I saw a dick, and, you know, when it happened, he cummed inside me." She shakes her head, "How am I supposed to ever do anything with Ben? Anything where he would… release, it would remind me."

"Has he asked you to?" Evie unsurely responds.

"No," Mal breathes. "But he wants me to be his queen someday, and…"

"Royals need to have children," Evie realizes, "which requires sex. With semen."

"Unless things have changed," Mal thinks. "But, you know, it's more than that. No matter what he says, Ben's still a guy. And he thinks about sex. We know he does. But how am I even supposed to… I don't know if I could even give him a blow job."

"Well, you couldn't do that, anyway," Evie points out. "Your saliva would numb him."

Mal glances down, "Carlos pointed out that a condom might fix that." before she fixates on the blade and twirls it between her fingers.

"Mal," she slowly says, "I'm sure Ben would understand."

"I can't do anything for him."

"You lowered his temperature last night," Evie counters.

"And it ended with him with a boner and nipping at my neck," Mal cringes.

Evie frowns, "You're not thinking about breaking up with him, are you?"

Mal takes a moment, "It's just a lot. He's sick, so he does need me like I need him. But then, he doesn't know the difference between food and sex, I'm not comfortable doing everything with him, and now he might be trying to go to Chad for it?"

"You don't know that," she hurries.

"And if he doesn't have control over himself," Mal disbelieves, "where does that leave me? How am I supposed to get mad at him for biting me when we're together, if this voice or whatever is telling him to do it?"

Evie frowns, "The voice tells me to lie when it gets scared. It doesn't want people to know about it, but so long as you make Ben and his intent feel comfortable, all you should need to do is ask how he's feeling. He should know if he's on the verge of a binge or not. And if he is, all you need to do is keep your distance until he feels better."

"You mean," Mal tilts her head, "unless he snaps and pins me down and—"

"Mal," Evie loudly interrupts, and she faces her. "Ben has his fair share of problems, but he's a nice guy. All we need to do is make sure he's eating right, and it should be fine."

Mal notices Evie look out the bathroom door, "What is it?"

Evie turns back to her, "Ben might not feel compelled to eat if I'm skipping again."

She eyes down, "Then go."

Evie kneels in front of her, "No."

Mal watches her take the blade from her hands, "What are you—"

"Not tonight," she quietly comments.

"I have to do something," she disbelieves. "I can't just—"

Evie interrupts her words with a kiss, and when they part, she asserts, "Do me."

"You're going to get hurt," Mal insists.

"I'm better now."

Evie attempts to smile, and Mal scrunches her eyebrows, "No, you're not."

Evie takes a deep breath, "Look. M. I'm just asking for fifteen minutes. It will help keep your mind off of things. No one's going to get hurt."

Mal eyes over her, "You do have a beautiful body." before she unzips the leather bottom of Evie's shirt and loosens the strings holding the top up. "Can we make it thirty?"

"So," Ben's father questions, "what piece will you be playing for your birthday?"

"Piece?" he questions.

"The piano piece, honey," his mother smiles, before she eats a forkful of potatoes.

Ben frowns, "I didn't think I was doing that this year, you know, with when I got my head hurt and all that."

"But you're better now," his mother counters. "Why wouldn't you do a piece?"

Ben glances at Carlos and Jay before wetting his lips, "I know I'm better, but I'm not fully better. I forgot things."

Belle and Adam give each other a look, before she excuses, "That's not necessarily from the accident. It could just be stress."

"And you perform a piece every year," his father reminds him. "People look forward to seeing you."

"And performing themselves," his mother adds on.

"There's only a week left," Ben exasperates. "What do you want me to do? Mozart?"

"That sounds nice," his father agrees.

Ben gives his parents a look, and Carlos questions, "What did you play last year?"

"Beethoven." He disbelieves, "And that took me three months. Mozart is going to be just as bad."

"Then you've better get to it," his father rationalizes.

Ben's mouth gapes, and his mother comments, "Honey, it's just muscle memory. I'm sure you will do just fine."

Carlos gives Jay a look, "Are you texting someone?"

"Yeah." He looks up, "My girlfriend." before he turns to Ben's parents. "I was wondering if I could invite her over sometime."

"Well," Belle glances at Adam, "who's this girl?"

Carlos crosses his arms, "Princess Ruby."

"Rapunzel's daughter," Adam recalls.

Belle smiles, "Of course, you can. Just keep it to the East Wing."

"And no sex," Adam points a finger. "We don't need any conflict with another royal."

"A lawyer, no less," she adds on.

Carlos scoffs, "Like that's going to stop him."

Jay gives him a look, "Do you have a problem?"

"Yeah, actually," his eyes widen. "You're a slut."

"Why?" Jay's eyes narrow. "Because I'm finally committing myself to one person and it's not you?" Carlos leans back in the chair, and Jay shakes his head, "You're so childish. You know that? Why don't you grow up?"

"Why don't you stop being a jerk, you putain coureur de jupons?"

Jay stares him down, "It's kind of hard to insult someone when you still didn't tell me what that even means."

"It means you're a jerk," he simply answers.

"You shouldn't be repeating things when you don't know what it means," Jay judges.

Carlos's mouth gapes, "Fuck you."

"No," Jay hums, meeting his blue eyes. "I still don't think so." The chair screeches when Carlos abruptly stands, and after he leaves Ben frowns at Jay. He looks away from Ben and picks up a cookie, "What is this? Nut?"

Ben watches Jay take a bite, "You never said sorry, did you?"

"Sorry for what?" he counters.

"How about for breaking up with him on his birthday?" Ben strongly states.

"Pardon?" his mother gasps before turning to Jay.

"First off," Jay diminishes, "it wasn't his birthday." He takes another bite, "And you can't break up with someone you were never really going out with."

"You had a thing," Ben rebuttals.

"That thing is illegal here," Jay points out. "He needs to move on."

"How about you apologize first?" Ben suggests.

"I did apologize," Jay asserts. "That clingy kid's just holding a grudge."

After a long silence, Belle comments, "Ben. Why don't you eat your meatloaf?"

Ben pushes the plate away and stands, "I have a piece to get."

"You told us you would eat," his father sternly reminds him.

"Well, you're not going to get me to," Ben spouts. "I can't do this."

"Honey," his mother begins.

"Do you want me to eat or practice?"

"You can do both." She nods down, "Now, please. Sit."

Ben shakes his head, "I'm not doing this."

"You need to," his father's blue eyes widen.

"There's no point," Ben shouts. "I want to do something— something…" He breathes in stress, "Something where there's a point."

"You need to eat to live," his mother reminds him. "There is a point."

"No," Ben denies. "Okay? I am just so tired of eating and eating and eating." He gulps, and his breathing shakes, "Food shouldn't have to be my life." His parents fail to respond, and he shakes his head, "I have papers to…"

After Ben turns around and heads to the hallway stairs, Jay finishes his potatoes and stands, "I'm just going to…" He points to the hall and heads off.

Belle sighs, "It must be a full moon."

"Actually, it's a dark moon tonight," Adam counters.

"So," she decides, "I'm going to give Ben a moment and then go talk to him."

"It's the hunger that's making him act this way," he frowns. "If we could just get him to eat right, he would see the point."

Out in the hallway, Jay knocks on the door, and after he hears a shuffling, the door opens to reveal Mal. She breathes, "Hey."

He notices her messy hair, "Don't worry. I won't say anything."

"What?" Mal questions. He points down, and she sees the hem of her tank top, "Ugh."

"So," Jay continues. "I just thought you should know Ben's skipping dinner. I'm guessing that's kind of a big deal."

"Right. Yeah," Mal shuts her eyes and claws through her curls. "I'll check on him later."

After the papers print, Ben takes them and starts for the door; however, then there's a knock and his mother comes in. He eyes off, "I have nothing to say."

"Then let me," she steps forward. "I hate to see you in so much pain."

He awkwardly smiles, "I'm not in pain."

"You were practically crying up there," she doubts, and he looks off again. "Look." She hesitates, "You, uh… You've been growing, and… you may have noticed some changes."

Ben shuts his eyes hard, holding up a hand, "I'm not doing this with you." before he moves past her.

She turns towards him, "I know this must seem scary, but you need to know that… what you're experiencing, it's normal."

He faces her in disbelief, "Normal?"

"Yes," she affirms. "And no matter how strange these changes may seem to you, you need to know that you can come to us."

"God," Ben cringes. "Mother. Can we not talk about this?"

"Now, Ben," she partly smiles, "you're a young man now, and we should be able to discuss these things rationally."

"We already had the puberty talk," he defends.

"Yes," she accepts, "but we feel as though you've gone through more recent changes, changes that you might not have been the most prepared for."

His eyes widen, "I'm fine. Really."

"You really should consider opening up to me," she counters. "These things don't need to be scary. There are perfectly normal expla—"

"No," he shouts. "Just stop." He takes a deep breath, "Nothing about this is normal."

"You're young," she excuses.

"I'm not an idiot," Ben stresses. "This isn't normal." He tears up, "It's things I got from Father, isn't it? That's why food doesn't help. It's why I can't chew vegetables, my hair is so weird, and why my voice…"

She watches his expression fall, "What about your voice?"

It takes him a minute, "This isn't normal." and it feels wrong. It all just feels so wrong.

"Your father had to go through this too," she informs. "You're not alone."

Ben eyes down, notices the sheet music, and holds it up, "I have to practice." He turns back around to leave the room, his mother hopelessly calling after him.

Later in the kitchen, Ben takes a bite out of a slice of the meatloaf; however, it's dry and spiced, and he spits it into the trash before chucking the piece in after it. He puts the leftovers back into the fridge and searches for something else. There's hamburger and bacon, but that would need to be cooked and he doesn't have the time. He notices some lunch meat and takes the turkey slices out, before he devours the contents and sets the package aside. There has to be more, anything else. He opens the bottom drawer. Vegetables. What is he supposed to do with vegetables? He slams the drawer shut and gives up on the fridge, before he heads for the cabinets. There are things left from Eco Week. There must be.

When Ben opens the can cabinet, he takes out a can of ravioli and two more of different chunky stews. A can opener. Ben scours the drawers. Where is the can opener? He shuts the last drawer and looks up at the machine, before he places the can underneath its head; however, he can't get it to work. He never understood this thing. Apparently, when he was using it, it had been broken, and now that it's fixed, he can't use it and he's the only one who can't.

"Ben?"

He hears Mal's voice and frustrates, "Do you see it anywhere?"

Mal walks closer and notices him fumbling with the cans, before she sees the hand can opener next to the sink and hands it to him, "Here." Ben snatches it from her, and she watches as he hurries to open all three. "Ben." She hesitates, "Are you okay?"

Ben puts up a hand in stress, before he faces her, "I'm fine. Now, go." He turns back to the cans, but Mal still doesn't leave. He finds a spoon and takes a scoop of the cold ravioli out of the can. A few more bites later, there's a tinging as he scrapes the sides, and then he replaces the empty can with a new one. One scoop in, and he cringes. It's disgusting. Cheese and ham chowder needs to be cooked.

Mal watches as he dumps the contents into a bowl, place it in the microwave, and go grab another can of ravioli, "Is there anything I can do?"

He gives her a stern look, "You can leave. I need to do this alone."

"Ben," she worries.

"I said go," he shouts at her, and after a moment she nods and complies. He hates to see her so sad, but what else could he do? He goes to the microwave to stir the chowder, before he shuts the door and finishes off the second can of ravioli.

After five cans are emptied, he hears the footsteps, "I told you to—" but the scent isn't Mal's. "Mother?" his voice lowers, before he turns to her.

She notices the cans and steps towards him, "I was thinking, perhaps you would like it if I gave Mrs. Potts the night off and made you that cheesy hamburger pasta you like so much."

Ben frowns, "That was when I was a kid."

"So," she pauses, "you don't like it anymore?"

"You make the hamburger dry," he complains.

She shakes her head once, "I can undercook it."

"And add more hamburger?" he questions.

"If you'd like." Ben's eyes lower, and she assumes, "I'm guessing you'd like the noodles to be overcooked?"

He faces her, "You know I don't like them hard."

"They're not hard," she counters.

"The inside is harder than the outside," he disputes. "I like them soft."

"Then, I'll make them soft."

Ben hesitates, "And maybe don't have the broccoli in it."

She partly smiles, "Honey. It just adds color. You can't even taste it."

"It ruins the texture," he stresses.

She nods, "Very well. No broccoli this time." Ben nods, and she inquires, "Will there be any other requests?"

"No," his eyes shift. "I think that's it."

She walks up to him, "I'm going to need you to eat it, though."

"Yeah," Ben agrees. "I promise."

She smiles, "Good." before she notices the cans behind him and laughs. "Oh, how I wish I had your metabolism. That must be two thousand calories already."

"Well, um," Ben scratches the back of his head.

She puts the two unopened ones away, "Come on, now. Go work or practice or what-have-you. Dinner's in six hours." Ben watches the cabinets close. Those are his. He was going to eat those. She smiles at him, "What would you like for dessert?"

Ben takes a moment, "Pumpkin pie?"

She smiles, "I can do that."