Uncomfortable

(Monday Night)

When Doug opens the door his mouth gapes, "Your highness."

Belle smiles, "Doug."

Ben walks toward the door, "Mother?" He looks over her yellow, midsleeve shirt and black, flowing skirt. "What are you doing here?"

"Well," she clutches the golden coin purse in her hands. "You said dinner could be any night of my choosing. I thought tonight was decent enough." He fails to speak, "Unless, of course, you've already got plans."

"No," Ben hurriedly says, before he smiles. "Just give me five minutes."

Doug watches Ben open the dresser drawer, before he looks back at Belle, "So…"

"You've been Ben's roommate for how long?" she inquires.

"Well, um." He adjusts his glasses, "After this year it would be a full three years."

She smiles, "That's good. It means he should be able to trust you, if needed."

"Trust me?" Doug unsurely comments.

"You two have been friends, haven't you?"

"Well, yes," he begins. "I just mean… Why would Ben need to trust me?"

"All royals need someone they can trust," she informs. "I'm glad he has someone."

"Doesn't he have you?" Doug tests.

"I'm his mother," she reminds him. "I may have only been able to have had one child, but I'm fairly sure no teenage boy is going to confide everything to his parents."

It takes a minute for Doug to comment, "I mean no disrespect here, but isn't that just a little hypocritical?"

"Is what hypocritical?" she frowns.

"You're glad he has someone he can trust," Doug slowly states, "but he's not allowed to tell anyone anything. He wasn't allowed to tell his friends he gets deadly fevers… He wasn't allowed to tell us— or anyone— anything."

"When did you learn about this?" she questions.

"When he fainted in class earlier this semester and told Aziz to come here to get his medicine," Doug informs. "He keeps it hidden under his bed like some huge secret."

It takes a moment for Belle to respond, "It can be hard for people to admit they're sick."

"So, you didn't tell him not to tell anyone?" Doug raises his eyebrows.

She thinks, "I don't recall having said anything of the like." before she nods down. "If I have, it was misguided of me and I apologize."

"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to," Doug counters.

She nods, "Very right you are." before she sees Ben in a blue button up and black tie. "Honey. Have I ever told you not to tell people about your fevers?"

Ben looks at her in near disbelief, "Yes."

She shuts her eyes, "I'm sorry." before she looks into his eyes. "Can you forgive me?"

Ben feels the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, "Of course." Doug turns toward Ben with shock, his mouth gaping, and Ben shakes his head in return before he walks toward his mother. "Let's go."

After the waitress leaves Ben's mother comments, "So." and Ben faces her. "You've gotten me alone. What now?"

"I don't know," Ben's eyes shift. "Honestly, I didn't think I would get this far." She nods. "How was your day?"

"Fine. You?"

Ben glances down, "Fine." realizing now just how stupid that question was.

It's quiet for a minute, before his mother comments, "About last night." and he faces her again. "You need to know I had the best of intentions, but clearly I didn't think it through. It was very selfish of me to forgo your education just so I could be honest with you about what happened when I met your father. I should have put your needs first. I'm sorry."

Ben frowns, "It's okay. I know you were just doing what you thought was best."

"Thank you."

Ben taps the table, "You're welcome." before he looks back up at her. Her yellow shirt swoops under her collarbones, and her neck is completely bare. So much skin is showing, and as he traces the veins with his eyes he imagines what it would be like to taste that sweet scent. He takes a deep breath, moving his eyes to the brick wall behind her; however, he pictures himself pushing her up against it, holding onto her tight as he leans into the left of her neck. "God."

"Honey?" she questions.

He shakes his head, "Sorry. Bad thoughts." before he situates his seating.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He shakes his head again, "No." and before he can continue Bridget comes back in with a steak, a salad, a basket of mozzarella sticks, and a pitcher of fat free milk. "Thank you."

She smiles, "You're very welcome. Enjoy your meal."

Ben glances down at the bloody steak, before he notices his mother poke her fork into the leaves of her salad. She pauses just before the fork get to her mouth, "Ben?"

"Sorry," he shakes his head. "It's just, we don't have anything like that at the house."

She laughs, "It wasn't for a lack of trying. You just couldn't figure out how to eat it, I suppose." before she eats the first forkful. Ben runs his tongue over his sharp teeth, and he wonders how anyone else could eat it. Surely, the teeth would just poke right through, and the leaves would get stuck in them. He watches his mother poke the fork through more of the salad, and he realizes it would probably be a lot like that. "Actually, there was this frightening moment when you nearly choked on a carrot. I think it was after that that I stopped trying to give you it."

"I hate carrots," Ben narrows his eyes, before he mulls it over. "Is that why we cook our vegetables now?"

"It seemed easier for you," she comments before glancing at his plate. "Honey. You're stalling." She gestures her fork to his steak, "You promised me if we had dinner you would eat." Ben looks down at his plate, and he hesitantly picks up the fork and knife. He takes his time to cut it into pieces, watching the meat juice flow onto the plate as he does so. Humans have a thing against meat. He knows this. He also knows humans have an even worse thing against blood. He looks up at her. Is he really going to have to eat this in front of her? She meets his eyes, "Go on." and with that Ben lets out a breath before stabbing his fork into the first piece; however, it's only after a couple more bites that his mother intrudes. "How does it taste?"

Ben's frown deepens, and he merely responds, "It's steak." She notices him put down the utensils and merely nods, before she busies herself with her own meal. A minute passes before Ben picks up the fork again, and after the first couple bites he can't help but relish in the warm juice. Piece by piece, he bites into it, and he feels the liquid settle in his mouth.

His mother sees him place five pieces into his mouth within the span of fifteen seconds, and she can't help but interrupt, "Ben." He halts. "Don't eat so fast. You'll get a stomachache." Ben looks down at the plate and notices half of the large steak is already gone, and he sighs before setting his fork down again. "No." She shuts her eyes, "I didn't mean—" before she opens them and looks into his. "Please. I want you to eat. Just do it normally."

"Normally," Ben repeats.

"You know. Slow down," she explains. "There's no need to rush. Enjoy it." She pauses, "Can you even taste it when you eat that fast?"

Ben's mouth opens before he answers, "I know I like it… That's all I know. I'm bad at going slow. I've tried to figure out what it tastes like before, but when I eat it all I know is that it tastes good." He hesitates, "All I know is that I want more, and then… I can't stop." He watches her eyes shift down in contemplation. "Mother?"

"We're going to play a game," she softly speaks, before she faces him. "The rules are simple. You can only eat one square of that steak every one minute. You chew it for at least fifteen seconds, and then, if you can, you will tell me what it was like."

Ben awkwardly smiles, "Is that really necessary?"

"We're practicing mindfulness," she lets him know, before she nods down. "Now, check your watch. You may begin when the second hand reaches the top."

"My watch is digital," he informs.

"Just start at the beginning of the minute."

Ben hears the frustration in her voice and looks down at his watch, before the new minute begins and he picks up his fork. He brings the steak slice to his mouth, and he attempts to slowly chew it. Fifteen seconds he recalls, as he stares at his watch, and by the time the seconds hit the mark all that's left is a ball of dry strings. How is he supposed to swallow this? This is why he doesn't like fat on his steak to begin with. All that's left is a hard-to-swallow ball. It takes him a moment to get the courage to finish it, and he takes a few gulps of milk to help it down his throat. He frowns at his mother, "This is stupid. Did you think that maybe I eat the way I do for a reason? Fifteen seconds is too long."

"You're not a wild animal," she counters, and he freezes. "You don't need devourer your prey before it gets away. You can take your time and eat civilly." Ben doesn't speak. "Fifteen seconds isn't too long. You just have to chew more slowly."

"And what?" Ben frustrates. "Just let it sit in my mouth?"

"Exactly right," she seriously answers. "Taste your food." She raises her eyebrows, "Were you able to this time?"

Ben looks off before wetting his lips, "Not really."

"Then try again," she says in a quieter tone. Ben looks back down at the stake, three squares across and three down: there's fourteen pieces left. Is he seriously going to have to do this another fourteen times? "Ben." He looks back up at her. "I would like you to try again, please." Ben doesn't respond, merely looking back down at the steak, stabbing another piece with his fork, before he brings it to his mouth. He tries not to bite it immediately; however, he can feel the juice dripping from it, and he sucks on it to get more. He feels that urge again, the intense feeling to bite it and then finish off the rest, and when he does bite into it he tries not to tear apart the entire square. He tries to go from corner to corner, but it just seems so arbitrary. He glances back up at his mother. Why were they doing this again? Mindfulness, he recalls, whatever the fuck that is. "How does it taste?" she questions.

Ben finishes off the rest of the square, and his mouth slightly gapes, "I forgot I was supposed to do that."

She continues to frown, "Try again." Ben waits for the minute to pass before he places another piece into his mouth. It's colder now, and the juice tastes different. The taste is stronger but not really in a good way, like it's a bit bitter now. He bites it in annoyance. It's been sitting for too long. It has to be warm. It doesn't matter how little it's cooked so long as it's warm, but now it isn't. "How is it?" his mother inquires.

"Not very great," Ben irritably responds. "It's cold now, and it has to be warm. It's a lot better when it's warm."

"Well," his mother uneasily comments, "the waitress should be rounding back to us soon. We can ask her to heat it when she does."

"The juice is going to evaporate if it's heated," Ben points out.

"The juice?" Ben frowns, before he glances down. "You mean the blood?"

Ben meets her eyes and firmly responds, "I said what I meant. The meat juice won't exist if it gets microwaved. I know."

"Ben," his mother tries to reason, "you can either eat it cold or make it warm. You've got a decision to make."

Ben looks off before mumbling, "Warm."

She nods, "Okay, then. We will tell the waitress when she gets back to us."

"I have a better idea," Ben immediately says, before he takes his phone from his pocket. The steak got cold. Is it possible to reheat it?

"Who did you just text?"

"Bridget," he answers.

"Bridget?" his mother questions.

"The waitress," Ben affirms.

She raises her eyebrows, "You have her number?"

Ben shrugs his shoulder, "I come here a lot." before his eyes drift down. "Or I did…" He hears the noise and looks back at the messages, "She'll be right here."

"And you would come here for the steak?" she asks.

"Yes," Ben confirms, before he sees the brunette come in and smiles. "Hey."

She smiles back, "You needed that reheated?"

Ben frowns for a moment, as he glances down at the steak, before he faces her again, "Um, yeah."

She takes it from the table, "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"How about cookies?" he unsurely inquires.

"How many?" Bridget asks.

"Uh." He looks at his mother for a second before squinting his eyes back at her, "Three?"

Her smile widens, "Are you sure?" and then Ben nods. "Alright, then. I will be back."

"Nice girl," his mother comments, and then Ben frowns. "Do you like her?"

"You know I have a girlfriend," Ben bypasses.

"That doesn't mean you can't have feelings for another," she rebuttals.

Ben shakes his head, "Why would you think I like her?"

His mother makes a thoughtful expression, "She had brown hair, you two seem very social with each other, and… well, you smiled at her. You never smile."

Ben looks back for a second, "I don't?"

She shakes her head, "It's really something I wish I could see more of."

"Okay. Well," Ben lets out a breath. "It was bad enough when Father was trying to set me up with her, but you're even worse."

"How am I worse?" she laughs in disbelief.

Ben's frown deepens, and before he can figure out why it bothers him more he excuses, "Well, because you're a girl. You should know better."

"I'm a woman," his mother corrects. "The dictionary definition of a girl is a female child or a relatively young woman, neither of which I would consider myself young enough to claim."

Ben slightly smiles, "You look young enough."

It takes a moment for her to unsurely say, "Thank you." before she firmly continues. "But I stand by my point. I'm too old to be considered a mere girl."

Ben frowns as he slowly nods, "Yeah. I understand that." and before either of them can speak again the waitress comes back in and sets the steak in front of Ben before placing the macadamia nut cookies in the center next to the milk.

Bridget smiles, "Will that be it for now?"

"Yes," Ben confirms. "Thank you." He watches her leave the area, before he looks down at the steak and furrows his eyebrows, "What the hell?" His mother stays quiet. "Do you see this? The juice turned into skin." He pokes his fork at the white substance covering the plate and watches as the fork scrapes through it.

"I'm not sure if that would be the technical term," his mother comments.

"Are you kidding?" Ben raises his brows. "It looks like it could have been taken from a person." He lets out a long breath before facing her, "You can't make me eat this."

"I won't." Ben breathes in relief. "Because, all I need you to eat is the steak."

He offers an unsettled look, "I don't want to."

"Ben." She attempts to reason, "It's not human. It's a cow You can eat it." Ben frowns back down at the steak. "At the new minute you will take another piece." Ben pokes his fork into the next square in line and uses the knife to clean the white skin off of its sides, before the next minute starts and he places it into his mouth. There's not nearly as much juice now, and the taste is nowhere where it had been originally; however, it's still better than the overly bittersweet, cold meat. It's harder to tear with his teeth, the crispiness making it harder to shear, but they still manage to make it through and chew. He looks back at his watch. That's probably what the problem was before. His teeth were just too good at their job, but now that the meat is actually cooked they have a harder substance to bite through. It takes him longer than fifteen seconds to chew the meat down into swallowable bits, and when he finishes he just continues to stare at the watch. He presses the button until the screen shows the amount of calories he had burned while walking that day. "Ben," his mother quietly interrupts, and he faces her. "What are you doing?"

It takes him a moment to answer, "I was just curious."

Her eyes shift in thought, before she comments, "It's time for another piece." Ben stabs his fork into another one. "Make sure to tell me how it tastes when you've finished." The crispy parts taste burnt. He doesn't know in what way. He just knows it does, and he can't specify any further than that. He bites into it and feels a sense of irritation at the lack of juice it's offering him. He bites it again and again, but when he feels some liquid meet his tongue it's too little to know what it tastes like. The meat itself is, well, just meat. It's not smoked, it has no spices due to his request, and the meat is dry. It's just dry. That's all he can think about, before he finishes it and frowns up at his mother in irritation.

"It's dry," he merely says.

"And?" she prompts.

"Burnt," Ben answers with furrowed brows.

His mother nods, and it takes her a minute to comment, "Maybe now isn't the best time to dwell on it."

"So, I can stop, then?"

"I'm afraid not," she frowns. "I still need to know you've eaten enough, and I would like you to continue practicing mindfulness while you're at it."

"You just told me not to dwell on it," Ben disbelieves.

"There's other things you can focus on other than the taste," she explains. "Like how much it's actually helping your hunger, for instance." Ben thinks about it, and as he does he realizes that he's still super hungry, not starved but still really hungry. "It's important that you can listen to your body when it tells you if you're full or not. If you're full, there's no reason for you to continue eating."

Ben takes the opportunity and lies, "I'm full."

She's quiet for a moment, "Honey. I would like you to finish it." and he glances down; however, her voice completely defeats the purpose of moving his eyes away. "Please. Can you do this for me?"

Ben lets out a long breath, "Okay." before he picks up his fork and continues to eat.

After Ben finishes the steak his mother excuses herself to the restroom and he picks up a cookie. Had he the ability to use both hands right now, he'd probably be checking his phone for texts; however, even though he could probably use it to a degree, he's not about to risk trying with the recent increase in injury. He looks toward the archway. His mother still has no idea, and even though his father has done things enough to make it appear as nothing, this last time was not ordinary. He's going to have to tell her. He promised he'd tell her if his father ever did anything again, but it's been such a nice night even with her insufferable game. Does he want to ruin it like this? He's finally gotten her alone. Does he really want to mess that up by bringing his father up? It's then he realizes that it's because that they are alone now that he must tell her. If he doesn't, he may not get a very good chance for a while. That would be a while too long.

When his mother returns he waits for her to sit down, "May we discuss something?"

"Sure. What do you want to talk about?"

Ben's quiet for a moment, before he begins, "Father." and he meets her eyes. "Something happened."

"What do you mean, something happened?"

Ben notices her part smile and the near laugh in her tone. He hasn't even said anything yet, and she's already hoping it isn't true. "He came to the school," Ben slowly says, "and he— He—" Ben wets his lips and hesitates, "He broke the lock on the door and…" He feels his heart beat faster, before he meets her warm brown eyes, "He grabbed me."

"What do you mean, he grabbed you?" she frowns.

"My arms," Ben quietly answers, and he tries to keep his breath steady. "He grabbed my arms, and it made the shoulder worse."

"Honey." She makes a noise before questioning, "Are you sure he hurt you that bad?"

Ben stares at her for a minute. Somehow he's not impressed that she would completely disregard him like that, and that bad? What, if it wasn't that bad, does that make it worthy to completely ignore? "Do I need to bring you the x-ray I just had?"

"Ben." She shuts her eyes, "It's not that I don't believe you. It's just—" Her eyes widen, "Wait. How much does the doctor know about this?"

"Don't worry," Ben says as he tilts his head. "I only said part of the truth."

It takes a moment for her to respond, "Do you know what provoked him?"

"What?" Ben furrows his eyebrows.

"Your father gets mad sometimes," she explains, "but he's not senseless. Do you know what provoked him?"

He nearly laughs in disbelief as the tears intrude his eyes. He can't deny that it was his fault this time. The things he's done, even a normal father would get upset for. Ben looks down, "He said he was there because of what I told Fairy Godmother." before he faces her and takes a deep breath. "But that's not really what he complained about."

"Then what was he upset about?" she softly asks.

Ben wets his lips again and looks off, "That night." before he glances over her. "When I was admiring your hair." He pauses to meet her eyes, "He didn't like it."

She purses her lips and slightly nods, "I see."

"What are you thinking?"

She sighs, "I'm thinking of a lot of things." before she sits up straighter.

"Are you going to talk to him?" Ben unsurely questions.

"I'm not sure," she stresses. "Your father isn't an easy man to talk to, and there's a good chance he didn't even do this on purpose."

"But you could talk to him to convince him to get help," Ben counters. "After this, he has to at least be thinking about it. Maybe he just needs the permission to."

She evenly expresses, "Ben. You're well aware your father doesn't need permission to do anything. He's not that kind of person. If anything, asking him to seek help may cause him to stop thinking about it himself, just because he would then think it was never his own idea."

Ben looks down, "Of course. I understand."

"Look," she starts, and he meets her eyes again. "I've been the only good constant in your father's life. You understand?"

"Yes." Ben glances down, "I can."

"So, can you then understand why your father may have felt threatened?" she seriously questions, and all Ben can do is nod. "I don't agree with what he did," she makes sure he knows, "but at the same time he was probably just scared of losing me. And adding that to his lack of emotional control, he acted very poorly. I agree with you on that." Ben fails to speak, and after a long silence she continues. "I know I'm your mother and that it's not fair that your father can't seem to share time with me for you, like you've said before, but he really does need the support."

Ben looks up at her, trying not to cry as he whispers, "And I don't?"

She hesitates, "Honey. You've got plenty of people to support you."

"But I don't want them," he counters. "I want you."

"Ben," his mother slowly comments, "I want to be there for you. I do, but a large portion of my day does involve making sure he's doing his best to stay well and I'm afraid I can't always be there for you when you need me." She pauses, "I'm pained to say that if you want someone who can constantly support you and well, then you're better off with your friends or girlfriend."

Ben looks down, "I'm sorry. I know this must be hard for you too… after all, at least I can leave when I want to. You actually need a reason." She doesn't speak, and he looks back up at her. It's quiet for a long moment before he questions, "Can I hold your hand?"

She takes a second to inquire, "What's you're intention?"

"Just to tell you that I care about you and that I will be there for you," he quietly answers, before she nods and he reaches for her delicate hand on the table. He looks from it to her brown eyes, "This has been hard for both of us, but thinking about it you've had to deal with him longer than I've had too and you spend more time around him too. Maybe you're used to it or maybe it's tired you over the years, but in either case I want you to know that you are not alone. Even if you can't always be there for me, I want you to know that I will be there for you. I love you, and I would never leave you to deal with this alone."

After he finishes she takes her hand from him, "I love you too." but there's something off about her slight smile.

"I've made you uncomfortable," Ben realizes.

"No," his mother shuts her eyes and shakes her head, before she opens them to meet his again. "What you said was a little… poetic, but it's not just you, Ben. It's this entire situation. It's this place. It's going to a public place without your father. It's leaving the castle and attempting not to check my phone every two minutes." She hesitates, "Trust me. You did nothing wrong. This entire thing is just uncomfortable for me."

"Sorry," Ben whispers, and then he sees her kind smile.

"You don't need to apologize," she softly speaks. "I'm glad we could have this time together. It's not really something we've had."

Ben smiles back, "Yeah. I'm glad we could have this time together too."

- Yeah. Can we just ignore the fact that Ben was using a knife and fork to cut his steak. I didn't realize how hard that would be with one hand until after I'd already finished the chapter and got halfway through editing (I do these two things hours apart for obvious reasons, by the way)... On a side note, has anyone else here ever microwaved steak juice before? It actually does turn into skin. Fascinating, right?... Annoying but fascinating.