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FavoredFox
Logic is panic's Prey...
- Joined
- Feb 6, 2016
The monotony. Of all the horrible, shitty things that came with moving back in with his parents, it was the never ending boredom that was the worst. His home town was as bland and dry as uncooked oatmeal. Every house was identical, every yard the same down to the last shrub, and the people. Cookie cutter families with fake smiles, desperately trying to hide their dirty little secrets behind plastic charades. He hated their forced, chipper greetings the most. 'Good morning, God bless!' They would call, parroting each other with pride and not so subtly patting themselves and each other on the back. Even more so when they crowed to him, as if it were some great feat to speak to the faggot. Like they were risking their lives, because everyone knows if you acknowledge a homosexual's existence you risk 'catching the gay.'
Ryo rested his head on the back seat window of his parent's pristinely polished SUV, his phone forgotten on his lap as he watched the flat terrain rush by. Even the scenery was boring as hell. Ocean blue, sleep heavy eyes followed the path of the cliffs far off into the distance. They created a barrier, personifying his imprisonment within Waco. He was starting to wonder if he'd make it out there on his own, or if the elements would take him. He should have paid more attention in the Eagle Scouts. With a heavy sigh through his nose, Ryo sat himself upright and curled a finger under the starched collar of his white button down tee-shirt. The ironed cotton felt constricting and itchy, and worse, when accompanied by khaki shorts, white socks, and white sneakers, he looked just as bland and lifeless as everyone else! How he longed for neon colors, breathable clothes, some sort of originality! Personality! His groan was cut off by his Mother's voice from the passenger seat.
"Stop sulking Ryo. It's unbecoming."
Six years didn't change much. Rosemary's voice was just as simultaneously gravelly and high pitched as he remembered. Every word she spoke was like nails on a chalk board to him, and yet somehow no one else could hear it. They loved her voice. She was the lead singer in the church choir. She was short and snotty, her pointy noise always tilted up. She walked around with an air of superiority, as if her shit didn't stink, and everyone at the church just ate it up. They practically worshiped the ground she stepped on, pun intended. The woman was always well kept, and always well covered. Even now, when the temperature was pushing well passed 100 degrees, her petite form was concealed by a thick, long sleeved shirt and a long skirt that dragged the ground. Even her long, black, greasy looking hair was straightened to perfection and left down. Ryo, on the other hand, absolutely had to pull up his mane of dyed white hair up into a high ponytail to keep it off of his neck.
She despised his hair, and she made no attempt to hide it. His mother's beady black eyes glared at him from the rear view mirror, her thin lips pinched tightly together. They looked nothing alike, not even their skin tone matched (hers a sickly pale, and his own having a more olive complexion.) It often left him wondering. He had some similarities with his Dad; they had the same dimples when they smiled (not that the guy ever smiled. His father had a permanent scowl or frown on his face,) they had the same honey blond hair, and the same rounded nose, but that was where the resemblance ended.
Ryo was short and with soft, gentle features, while his Father, Tobias (Toby for short) stood at an intimidating six feet with the bulk to match. Each line on his body was sharp and angled, while Ryo was rounded and squishy, even with the firm muscle mass he'd built up over the years.
Ryo grunted. "Who wakes up at the ass crack of dawn on a Sunday morning," he complained, exhaustion and irritation making him whiny. "Sane people are still in their beds."
His father responded from the driver's seat. "We do, and so do you if you want to keep our roof over your head."
"Yeah yeah. Just don't expect me to be bouncing around anytime soon. You won't even stop for coffee."
"You could have had a cup at home if you hadn't slept in so late."
"When did 6am become 'late?'"
His mother piped in snidely. "Usually we get there by 6," she sniped. "I like to help the Father set up."
Brown noser, he thought, but wisely kept that comment to himself. "Fine," he muttered, then turned his attention to his phone to play time wasting games for the rest of the ride. Which took about ten minutes more before the light blue SUV pulled into the still fairly empty parking lot of an extravagant church. He resisted another pained groan. The service wouldn't start until 8, and they were here by 6 fucking 30... And his mother wanted to get here earlier?! He could have just driven himself, but no, they didn't trust him to stick to their deal, so they dragged his sleeping ass out of bed and into the SUV with them.
The car was shut off and he pulled the sliding door open to step out onto the pavement. A few early worms were chittering away closer to the entrance, and a couple more were helping to set up tables. At least one good thing would come out of this. Free breakfast. Eventually.
His mother fluttered off to join the others, and his father started scanning the area. Probably looking for the priest. He'd been warned of a forced introduction. If he wanted to stay at home, he couldn't be a sinning faggot anymore. He'd have to suffer through constant attempts to pray the gay away, but he would manage. The priest preaching here when he was in high school had done everything short of an exorcism to rid him of his devils, he could do it again. Just until he could afford a place to stay.
Ryo turned off his phone and tucked it into his pocket, then, in his mother's absence, he popped open the top button on his shirt, and suddenly he could breathe again. He took in a deep breath through a long, loud yawn. This was shit. This was all shit. He should be in bed, wrapped up in the muscular arms of a man, and fast a fucking sleep!
Ryo rested his head on the back seat window of his parent's pristinely polished SUV, his phone forgotten on his lap as he watched the flat terrain rush by. Even the scenery was boring as hell. Ocean blue, sleep heavy eyes followed the path of the cliffs far off into the distance. They created a barrier, personifying his imprisonment within Waco. He was starting to wonder if he'd make it out there on his own, or if the elements would take him. He should have paid more attention in the Eagle Scouts. With a heavy sigh through his nose, Ryo sat himself upright and curled a finger under the starched collar of his white button down tee-shirt. The ironed cotton felt constricting and itchy, and worse, when accompanied by khaki shorts, white socks, and white sneakers, he looked just as bland and lifeless as everyone else! How he longed for neon colors, breathable clothes, some sort of originality! Personality! His groan was cut off by his Mother's voice from the passenger seat.
"Stop sulking Ryo. It's unbecoming."
Six years didn't change much. Rosemary's voice was just as simultaneously gravelly and high pitched as he remembered. Every word she spoke was like nails on a chalk board to him, and yet somehow no one else could hear it. They loved her voice. She was the lead singer in the church choir. She was short and snotty, her pointy noise always tilted up. She walked around with an air of superiority, as if her shit didn't stink, and everyone at the church just ate it up. They practically worshiped the ground she stepped on, pun intended. The woman was always well kept, and always well covered. Even now, when the temperature was pushing well passed 100 degrees, her petite form was concealed by a thick, long sleeved shirt and a long skirt that dragged the ground. Even her long, black, greasy looking hair was straightened to perfection and left down. Ryo, on the other hand, absolutely had to pull up his mane of dyed white hair up into a high ponytail to keep it off of his neck.
She despised his hair, and she made no attempt to hide it. His mother's beady black eyes glared at him from the rear view mirror, her thin lips pinched tightly together. They looked nothing alike, not even their skin tone matched (hers a sickly pale, and his own having a more olive complexion.) It often left him wondering. He had some similarities with his Dad; they had the same dimples when they smiled (not that the guy ever smiled. His father had a permanent scowl or frown on his face,) they had the same honey blond hair, and the same rounded nose, but that was where the resemblance ended.
Ryo was short and with soft, gentle features, while his Father, Tobias (Toby for short) stood at an intimidating six feet with the bulk to match. Each line on his body was sharp and angled, while Ryo was rounded and squishy, even with the firm muscle mass he'd built up over the years.
Ryo grunted. "Who wakes up at the ass crack of dawn on a Sunday morning," he complained, exhaustion and irritation making him whiny. "Sane people are still in their beds."
His father responded from the driver's seat. "We do, and so do you if you want to keep our roof over your head."
"Yeah yeah. Just don't expect me to be bouncing around anytime soon. You won't even stop for coffee."
"You could have had a cup at home if you hadn't slept in so late."
"When did 6am become 'late?'"
His mother piped in snidely. "Usually we get there by 6," she sniped. "I like to help the Father set up."
Brown noser, he thought, but wisely kept that comment to himself. "Fine," he muttered, then turned his attention to his phone to play time wasting games for the rest of the ride. Which took about ten minutes more before the light blue SUV pulled into the still fairly empty parking lot of an extravagant church. He resisted another pained groan. The service wouldn't start until 8, and they were here by 6 fucking 30... And his mother wanted to get here earlier?! He could have just driven himself, but no, they didn't trust him to stick to their deal, so they dragged his sleeping ass out of bed and into the SUV with them.
The car was shut off and he pulled the sliding door open to step out onto the pavement. A few early worms were chittering away closer to the entrance, and a couple more were helping to set up tables. At least one good thing would come out of this. Free breakfast. Eventually.
His mother fluttered off to join the others, and his father started scanning the area. Probably looking for the priest. He'd been warned of a forced introduction. If he wanted to stay at home, he couldn't be a sinning faggot anymore. He'd have to suffer through constant attempts to pray the gay away, but he would manage. The priest preaching here when he was in high school had done everything short of an exorcism to rid him of his devils, he could do it again. Just until he could afford a place to stay.
Ryo turned off his phone and tucked it into his pocket, then, in his mother's absence, he popped open the top button on his shirt, and suddenly he could breathe again. He took in a deep breath through a long, loud yawn. This was shit. This was all shit. He should be in bed, wrapped up in the muscular arms of a man, and fast a fucking sleep!
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