Unforgivable Acts

(Day 78: Sunday Evening)

"I have informed Mrs. Potts that meals should be prepared without alcohol from now on," Belle tells them.

When Mal fails to speak Ben nods, "Thank you."

"You could have told us," she comments before she sips from her glass. "Could have saved us a lot of strife."

Ben finds himself unable to counter with the fact that everyone has things they're ashamed of, instead looking at Mal. She eyes the plate, "I wasn't trying to deceive anyone."

"I'm sure they know that," Ben turns back to his own plate and pokes a fork into the turkey. "They just expect better from the king of the country."

"Don't get sarcastic with us," his father sternly responds.

"Adam," his mother addresses, "it wasn't that sarcastic."

"More like he still hates himself for what happened with Audrey," Mal inputs.

"It doesn't matter how regretful he is," Adam bares his teeth. "That's no way for a man to behave."

Ben looks up and notices it: the furrowed brows, pinpointed eyes, and the tense jaw; however, he still can't help but tiredly retort, "Don't you think I know that?"

His mother takes his father's hand, "Adam." and she pauses to give him time to acknowledge her. "It's been a stressful day. How about you get us all some tea?" He grumbles, and then Ben watches as she places her other hand on his father's shoulder, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "Please."

He lets out a defeating breath, "Okay." before he stands from the table and heads through the archway to the kitchen.

"You think tea will make it better?" Ben doubts.

She doesn't look at him, "Tea makes everything better."

Ben doesn't move his eyes from her, and the longer he stares without her reciprocation, the more he can feel it; he feels his heart quicken without reason, his breathing short in and long out, until he tears his eyes from her and shuts them. There's a tingling sensation in his fingers, as he feels it begin to shake with stress, "Do we have any soda?"

"I don't know," his mother still doesn't look at him. "Do we?" He feels the sensation spread, so he stands to his feet. "Wait," she urges.

Ben turns back around and sees her finally look at him, before he helplessly questions, "What?" He slightly raises his arms from his sides, "What is it?"

"Your father is getting us tea," she reasons. "You should wait."

"Because tea fixes everything," Ben repeats, and his mother merely frowns at him. "I'm going to go grab a soda, and you're going to continue to ignore me."

When he turns back around she pleads, "Ben!" but he just continues on into the kitchen.

"I can go after him, "Mal suggests."

"No," Belle holds a hand up, before she closes it. "Just wait a minute."

In the kitchen, Ben notices his father hovering over the island counter, blocking the fridge, as he places the kettle on a tray along with four cups, "What kind of tea did you make?"

"The same kind I make every time your mother asks me to make some."

"Chamomile," Ben recalls, and when his father doesn't respond he finds his eyes darting between him and where the soda would undoubtedly be placed, if it did so exist.

His father keeps still, just staring down at the tray, "I guess you came in here to make sure I didn't break anything."

Ben takes a deep breath, before he moves towards the cupboard near the stove, "No." before he finds the ground ginger, paces over to the counter himself, and then places the circular container in front of his father. "I just thought that we could use some of this."

"But no one's sick," he irritably counters.

Ben looks away for a moment, "No, but it's also supposed to help with the physical side effects of anxiety, and I think we're all a little stressed right now. Don't you?"

His father pauses to think, before he eyes Ben's near-shaking hand, "You're afraid."

"Not everything is about you," he shouts, before he takes an unsteady breath, feeling the tears intrude his eyes again. "Just go help yourself." He shuts his eyes, "And the others." before he places a hand to his forehead. "I need a minute."

His father pauses, "Okay." before he places a hand on Ben's shoulder and Ben flinches it off. "I will go have some tea."

Ben hears his father force himself not say what he actually wanted to, and he's grateful, as he hears his father leave the room without hesitation. He takes a few short breathes, before he notices the fridge and rushes to it. He opens it and immediately sees the boxes, pulling out three of the Diet Cokes and placing them on the counter next to the fridge in a triangular fashion. They're cool in temperature, and when he opens the first he doesn't even wait for the popping fizz sound to dissipate before taking a drink. It's crisp, and he releases a breath at the familiar taste before taking another; however, as soon as he knows it, it's gone and he moves onto the next one. He takes a drink and savors it, moving his thumb around the rim, but as his mother hollers for him he's reminded of everything and downs the rest of the can. He lets out a breath, before he opens the third and drinks; however, when he turns to open the fridge again he sees Mal just at the edge of the island, and his mouth cracks open, "What are you doing in here?"

"I'm supposed to get you," she unsurely states, before she notices his eyes shift around the room. "What's going on?"

He cockily smiles, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Mal gives him a look, "If you can't say it, just say you can't talk about it."

He makes a noise, failing to speak, before he glances at the soda, looks away, and then wets his lips before facing Mal again. He slowly admits, "Sometimes when I get upset I like to have a soda." He eyes the ground for a second, "Is that so wrong?"

"No. Of course, not," she looks at him in confusion.

It takes a minute for him to confess, "Doug thinks I drink too much soda."

"Well, how much do you have?" Ben lifts a shoulder, and then Mal raises an eyebrow. "Okay, then. How much are you having now?"

Ben's mouth gapes, "Ahh." as his eyes shift to where the other can are. "A couple."

"A couple?" Mal doubts. "Not two, not one or four. Just a couple?" Ben doesn't speak. "If only I could count on one hand how many times I only had a couple drinks."

"This is different," Ben loudly defends.

"Yeah. It is," Mal grins. "So, why are you making such a big deal out of it?"

Ben's quiet for a moment, "I don't know. It's just… well, embarrassing." before he meets her jade green eyes again. "I, uh-em, actually get a lot of it online, just so I don't have to have people watch me purchase it from stores all the time."

Mal furrows her brows, "If you don't like how much soda you're having, then cut down. Clear and simple."

"You're right." Ben eyes away for a moment, "I should stop embarrassing myself."

"That's not what I said," Mal asserts, but he fails to respond. "God. You have a terrible self-esteem for a king." She walks past him, "How does that even happen?" before she finds the other cans and holds them up for him to see. "Two. That's not that bad, Ben."

Ben eyes the can in his hand but doesn't mention it, "You're right."

"Right," Mal smiles. "So, now that we've established that…" She tugs on his tie and pulls him in for a kiss. He kisses her back, but it's only a moment later that she hears him gasp with shock.

"Mother."

Mal moves back in question, before she sees his widened eyes and follow them to the doorway. Belle evenly comments, "Everything fine in here?"

"Yeah," Mal attempts to smile. "We're all good."

She nods, but then she stills at the sight of the cans. Ben steps forward, setting the can in his hands next to the others, before he gestures, "I can explain."

"You're stressed," she frowns. "That's why I told you to wait for the tea."

He wets his lips, eyes shifting down for a second, before he attempts to explain, "Mom."

She interrupts, "Your father is on his third cup. You should come join us."

"We'll be right there," he accepts.

She nods once again before exiting through the arch, and then Ben lets out a stressed breath. Mal watches him grab the soda, "She's a very… practical person, isn't she?"

"If by practical," Ben feels the can empty, "you mean serious and literal, then yes." He sets the can down again and stares at the silver marble counter, "With me she's usually more… she's always thoughtful, full of intelligence, but… Well, maybe I'm wrong." He folds his arms and leans onto the counter, before he looks over at Mal. "I thought that she's usually able to put her objectiveness aside when it comes to me." He glances down for a second, "But now she's so distant… And no. It's been this way." Ben faces Mal, "She can just be too understanding sometimes, like whatever a person feels doesn't matter, because she's thinking about how it affects everybody." He shakes his head, as he remembers Audrey, "I really didn't need another reason for her to hate me."

"Another reason?" Mal furrows her brows in question.

He shakes his head again, "The soda. She doesn't like it." before he looks at her again. "She grew up on a farm, you know, and this stuff is made in a laboratory… It's… well… She assumes it can't be good for you." He slightly nods, his eyes shifting down, "She's likely right."

Mal uncomfortably moves, "We should get back to dinner."

Ben's quiet for a moment, "I'll be right there." and after he watches her leave, he slowly picks up the three cans, crunching each one as he finds the recycling and then drops them in. He moves past the fridge on his way out of the room; however, before he makes it to the archway he halts, glancing back at the refrigerator, before he continues on, but then he stops again. He lets out a long breath, looks between the fridge and doorway, before he finds himself walking back over to the fridge. He looks over his shoulder before grabbing the same type of can he had before, opening it before he heads back into the dining room.

When he sits back down his father comments, "You know, it's not good enough just to apologize to a woman. You need to show her you're sorry too."

"You mean like offering her theater tickets?" Ben tiredly questions.

His father hesitates, "For instance. Or, you could write a poem." and then he gestures with thought. "You could perform a piano piece."

"I always thought that was manipulative," Ben takes a sip of his soda, "giving someone a gift to make them forget about something horrible you've done."

"Ben," his mother sternly responds.

"A person," Ben shuts his eyes hard. "You, as in a person." He shakes his head and then mutters in French, "Why does everyone have to take everything so God damn personally?" He rubs his forehead before going for his Diet Coke again.

"Hold on," his mother instructs, before she nods down. "I want you to drink the tea first." Ben finds the cup closest to him and then pours the contents into his mouth, gulping it down, before he takes a drink of the soda. "I have to use the restroom," she excuses herself, and Ben watches as she makes her way around the table and towards the hallway.

It's quiet as the rest of them continue to eat, Ben glancing down at his watch every so often, before Mal attempts to break the silence, "So. Uh."

"I'll be back," Ben intrudes, before he drops his fork and stands from his seat.

"Where are you going?" Mal questions; however, Ben simply stays silent as he turns to leave the room, and he walks down the hallway until he reaches the plaque marked restroom. He enters it and sees his mother washing her hands over the sink, before she looks into the long mirror and their eyes meet. "You've never hated me before."

"I still don't," she quietly responds before drying her hands on the blue towel.

"It feels like you do," Ben softly replies, and he can feel his eyes become warm.

She faces him, "I don't hate you. I'm just disappointed."

It takes a second for Ben to say, "That doesn't make me feel any better." before he takes a step forward. "I apologized. What more do I have to do to make it up to you?"

His mother's mouth opens before she evenly responds, "I'm not the one you should be making it up to."

"I can't have you be upset with me," Ben desperately says as he steps forward.

"You know," she raises her eyebrows in sternness, "there are plenty of people who are upset with me too. There are things the people have yet to forgive me for, for which I haven't even done. It's something you have to learn to live with."

Ben gulps, as he feels his eyes well with tears, "I'm not the people, Mom." and then he notices her expression soften. "I just really need to know that we're okay, that things between us are good." She doesn't speak, "Can't you ever forgive me?"

"Let me ask you something," she blankly looks at him. "How many times, exactly, did you apologize to Audrey for the same things?" He wets his lips. "How many times did you do the same kind of things over and over again after promising you wouldn't?" He sighs, shutting his eyes as the tears finally fall, and it takes a minute for her to answer, "What you did, I'm not sure if it can be forgiven. You really hurt her, Ben."

"It's not like I ever hit her," he faces her.

"And that makes it okay?" she skeptically inquires.

"No. Of course, not," he makes a noise and then pauses. "All I'm saying is… I never threw a piano at her."

His mother's eyes shift, "We're finished here."

Ben panics as she walks past him, "No. Wait." and then he grabs onto her shoulder.

She flips back around with widened eyes, "Stop it!" and then he lets go. She takes a calming breath, "This behavior, Ben, it's childish. You've always been so mature for your age. What's gotten into you?"

It takes him a moment to say, "You." before he lets out a sad breath. "I love you. I can't stand you being so," he glances down for a second, "distant from me."

She lets out a breath of disbelief before continuing on, "And your father. You've held this grudge against him for something that happened how many years ago? Eight?"

"Nine," Ben corrects. "I was seven. He could've killed me."

"He missed you on purpose," she tells him.

"What?" Ben half laughs. "Did he tell you that? Because, I never asked."

There's a long pause, before his mother questions, "Has your father ever hurt you?"

Ben thinks of how his father had grasped his shirt the week prior to pull him forward and yell in his face. He lets out a hopeless breath, "He's never hit me." and then his eyes shift. "He's never laid a hand on me."

"Well, then," his mother evenly responds, "I suggest that you drop this childish pettiness of yours and forgive him for that mistake he made so many years ago." He doesn't speak. "He's better now. He's been doing better now."

Ben faces her again, "He still gets unwell."

"And you're still going to get stressed," she counters.

He's quiet for a moment, and then his voice cracks, "I'm never going to get your forgiveness, am I?" and then more tears fall down his face. "You're going to be upset with me for a long time."

"I can't just outright forgive you," she slowly responds. "I can't just let you think this behavior is okay. If you've told Audrey that she's stupid and crazy so many times, then it doesn't matter if she knows it's true or not, or how many times you've apologized or reassured otherwise." She pauses, "She's still going to question it, so no. I can't forgive you; however, as with most things, it should dissipate with time. So long as you make the right choices from this moment forward."

Ben nods, taking a shaky breath, and when he watches his mother open the bathroom door he says it again, "I love you."

She frowns back at him for a moment, "I love you too." and as she exits the room, Ben slides down the sink counters and sits on the floor.

Sometime after, Ben looks towards the door, as he hears it open, and he tiredly watches Mal walk over and kneel beside him. "Hey."

"Hey," he quietly says, but he can't move. He's too tired to move, and he feels his eyes continue to droop.

"You should come back to the dining room," she prompts.

"I can't," Ben mumbles, before he leans onto her arm, and as she swipes the hair from his face, she feels it.

"You're burning up." Mal places her hand onto his forehead, "Were you this hot earlier?" He makes a noise and attempts to lift a shoulder, but the shoulder doesn't lift. "Are you okay?"

Ben hears her worry and then whispers, "I haven't been feeling very well. Today."

"What can I do?"

"Water. Fridge," he manages.

"Okay," she says, before she stands back up. "I'll be right back." Ben doesn't respond, merely watching her leave the bathroom, before he stares at his pants' pocket. He grumbles before reaching for it, weakly taking the case out, pouring the remaining four tablets into his hand, and then moving them to his mouth. With that, he lets his arm drop, and at the sight of the clear container he doesn't even bother to hide it back into his pocket. Instead, he moves it a couple inches to keep it from view, and the second he does he's startled by the sound of the door; however, beyond looking to see Mal come back in, he doesn't react. "Here."

When she walks over to hand him the flavored water he takes it and then downs the contents with the pills. He lets out a breath, "Thanks." before he raises his arm towards her. "Help me, please."

She takes her hand and pulls him up, and then she watches as he slouches over the countertop, "I don't get it. Are you sick or something?"

"In a manner of speaking," Ben mumbles, before he tiredly looks at her and notices her inquiring expression. "Yes. I'm sick."

"You were fine this morning," she thinks aloud. "Or, at least, better. How could it have gotten so bad so fast?"

Ben shuts his eyes and lets out a breath, "The dorm."

"The dorm?"

"I want to go back to my dorm," he tiredly clarifies.

Mal hesitates, glancing over at Belle for a moment, "If you're this sick, then maybe you should stay here."

"I want my dorm," he persists, before he looks back at her and lifts a hand, "I have class in the morning."

"You can't attend class if you're sick," she loudly refutes, but then she notices him bring the hand to his head. "Sorry," she whispers.

"I'll be fine in the morning," he intensely looks into her eyes. "I just need to rest."

When Mal looks over at Belle she confirms, "It's been a stressful, emotional day." before her eyes lower in thought and she slightly nods. "This has happened before. He will be okay."

"Okay," Mal nearly smiles in relief, before she looks back at Ben. "Can you walk?"

"Um." He looks at the ground near his feet but finds there's no room to test, "Maybe." and as Mal nods and moves towards the door, he keeps his hand over the counter, afraid that he may lose balance.

When he gets to the doorway his mother places a hand on his shoulder, "Call me if it gets any worse."

At the sight of her and her warm brown eyes, he feels the sinking feeling again. He feels a sinking pit in his stomach, and as he the tears burn his eyes again, he can feel the spinning, sickening sensation in that pit. All he wants to do is wrap his arms around her; however, he doesn't even bother to ask, as he keeps quiet and turns his head away. He sees Mal but keeps his eyes from her as well, glancing over himself and the tiled floor beneath his feet, "Where'd the soda go?"

"It's still on the table," Mal lets him now, and then he takes a step forward onto the dark, wooden floors. "Wait," she puts a hand out. "I'll get it for you." He fully looks back up at her just as she turns away.

"You need to be more careful," his mother reminds him.

"I know," he says without turning towards her.

"The medicine you already take only does so much," she asserts. "If you continue to let your fever get so high, then—"

"I get it," Ben frustrates. "I could die." He leans on the doorframe and slowly shakes his head, "I've heard it a million times, Mother. There's really no need to remind me."

She stays silent, as Mal returns with the soda and then Mal looks between the two of them. "What did I miss?"

"Nothing," Ben plainly states as he stands to his feet, but he can see her doubt. "Nothing of importance." He places a hand on her shoulder to keep balance, "Let's get going."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Ben lets her know as he stares out the window. "Just thinking."

"About?" she prompts.

He's quiet for a moment, as he feels his breathing quicken again, "I feel like I'm losing her." He doesn't hear a response. "I know. It sounds crazy."

"I was just wondering who you were talking about," Mal slowly informs.

Ben pauses, "My mother. She's never been like this with me before."

"How?" Mal unsurely questions, but he fails to answer. "Look, Ben. Your mother cares about you. I know she does. Okay? You're not losing her."

"She's so disappointed in me," he unsteadily breathes. "She said I couldn't make up for it, that she couldn't just forgive me for it."

"Ben," Mal starts. "In my experience, unforgivable acts aren't forgiven. They're moved past. They're forgotten with time… and distraction." She pauses, "You're not going to lose her." He stays silent. "And Ben." She moves closer and holds his hand, causing him to glance at it and then face her. "Your parents care about you, and they're supportive." She glances down, "You have great parents who will love you unconditionally, no matter what mistakes you make." before she looks into his eyes. "They will forgive you… eventually."

"Great parents," Ben repeats.

"Well, I mean," Mal half laughs, "your father seems a little, uh… hard on you, but you have an amazing family." She bites her lip, "It's just, um." before she looks back up at him and slightly nods. "I wish my mother could have given me the same kind of love and care that your parents give to you."

Ben hesitates, his eyes moving off for a moment, "My family's not perfect, Mal."

"No one's is," she easily responds, "but at least you have one." Mal's smile widens as her eyes sadly glisten, "You have a hard life too. I get that, but even though your father can be tough on you and your mother seems to be holding back right now, don't take the love and care they are offering for granted." He can see the tears in her eyes. "You have a great family, Ben. You have to know that."

"Yes," Ben's frown deepens, and he can feel his heartrate increase before he confirms, "I know." The car stops and Ben turns towards the door, waiting for it to open, and when it does he steps out and leans on the car.

When Ben offers Mal his hand she rejects it and stands from the vehicle herself, "I don't think you have that much strength right now." before she places her hand on his shoulder. "But nice try."

After they get inside and Mal walks him to his dorm, he stares at her for a moment, the beautiful tints of green in her eyes, before he laughs it off and unsurely smiles, "I do love you. You know that."

He may have said it as a command, but Mal notices the desperate question in his eyes, "Yeah. I do." before she takes his hand and kisses it. "Good night, my king."

At the sight of her smile, he manages one as well, "Night, my lady." and it's only as she moves towards the end of the hallway that their eye contact breaks.

Doug opens the door, "I thought I heard you out here." before his mouth cracks open in observation. "Did you get sunburn or something?"

Ben lets out a tired breath, "Let me in."

Doug complies, shutting the door behind him, before he watches Ben immediately make his way over to his bed and take the blue bin out from under it. "You're sick," he realizes.

"I'm not allowed to have emotions," Ben evenly says, before he takes out a packet of Alka-Seltzer and a new bottle of Tylenol. "Ooh," he slightly smiles, as he finds a plastic container of cookies and sets them on the bedside table as well.

"What's that?"

"They're the ones from Starlit Night." He takes a bite out of one, "I saved some."

"Shouldn't you be more focused on getting better?" Doug reminds him.

Ben nods, "I'm getting to that." before he puts the bin back, sits on his bed, and then eyes around the room. "Where's my water bottle?"

Doug gives him a look of annoyance, before he heads into the bathroom and comes back out with it, "You keep leaving it in there."

"Makes sense," Ben accepts, before he smiles again. "That's where the water lives."

He shakes his head, "I can't take you seriously like this." before he hands him the full bottle. "So, how about you medicate yourself, and then we can talk about whatever's up with you?"

"Or," Ben offers an alternative as he drops the two circles into the plastic bottle, "we can let me not get emotionally sick again and put on a cartoon instead."

"You're joking," Doug disbelieves, but Ben merely takes in the fizziness of his drink. "You don't watch shows. They're too time-consuming. If you watch anything, it's always a movie or the tourney game." He emphasizes, "If you watch anything at all."

"You're forgetting the news," Ben remarks, before he takes a large drink of the medicine.

"Still," Doug irritably replies. "You don't watch shows."

"I do when I'm sick," Ben explains before making himself comfortable. "Kid shows that are funny and make absolutely no sense at all." He sighs, "It's the only thing that doesn't make my headaches worse."

Doug scratches his eye, "Alright." before he fixes his glasses and finds the remote. "What do you want to watch?"

"The one with the… the…" He wets his lips, "What's that one sea creature that's all spongy called again?"

Doug gives him a dumbfounded look, "A sea sponge."

Ben points a finger up and enthuses, "Yes. That one."

He shakes his head as his turns on the television, "You really are sick." before he looks back at him in concern. "What's your temperature?"

"Well, I can move," Ben raises his eyebrows in thought, "so better than it was thirty minutes ago."

"God," Doug breathes as he searches through the shows, "don't let the king die on my watch. Please."

"You believe in God?" Ben inquires.

"I believe," he slowly states, "that we are merely a simulation in a computer program created to satisfy the sadistic thoughts of our all-knowing, all-powerful maker. Yes."

"Hmm," Ben hums. "You'll have to tell me more about that later. It sounds interesting."

"It is," Doug agrees, before he finds the show and hands the remote over to Ben. "After all, all God is mentioned to be is our creator." He jokes, "And if hybrids really aren't God's creation, then that makes you a pesky virus disrupting His program."

"Funny," Ben unenthusiastically responds.

"Come on," Doug prompts. "Doesn't that make you feel better?"

"No," Ben frowns, before he starts the show. "It really doesn't."

- So, I don't know if I've ever mentioned GTLive on here before, but I feel the need to mention that MatPat's recent confession was in no way the inspiration for Ben's soda issue. Actually, if you look back at the first chapter I mentioned him drinking the soda and then compare it with GTLive's recent confessions video, then you would know that the chapter came first... but since the chapters themselves don't have posted dates on them you're either going to have to been here long enough to know I'm not lying or you're just going to have to trust me... No, uh, Ben's soda issue is modeled over my own (just more extreme). My drink of choice is actually Diet Dr. Pepper, but because I was testing out Diet Coke at the time (which I find I don't like) and saw that it had more flavors, I figured that would be a good brand for Ben to obsess about... Funny thing, actually. A little while ago there was a contest at the gym, where you had a chance to get money if you went three months without drinking soda. Now, I did that challenge, but I feel like the only reason I got through it was because I knew there was a time when I'd be able to have the Diet again. Seriously, I think it was about every day that I just thought that I can't wait until the competition was finished... And, of course, after the whole thing ended I did start drinking it again, which is kind of odd because they say that after 30 days or 3 months a habit should break (I looked it up and apparently it can take up to 8 months or a year, but still). I actually had this coin that was worth a dollar. It's a collector's item, so you keep it if you find it... I spent it on a 24 pack pack about a week ago, because I didn't have enough money for it. And now I'm just about broke, so there's that. Lovely. I'll be surprised if I don't spend of a good portion of my birthday and Christmas money on it... I should really quit. The last time I went to the doctor my blood pressure and heartrate were both fairly high, higher than usual, but I don't really want to quit it. I think I just want to lose some weight first, see if that helps. Because, if it does, then I don't need to put down the soda. Right? (PS: I don't have any problem with fevers. That's all Ben. Just so no one worries).

-Anyway, thanks for everyone who's commented since last week. It's very appreciated. Feel free to do it some more.