Tales Of The Telekinetic

Filming: "Can Cars Be Something Else In My Mind"

It was cold outside, snowy, and the terror of the week was in full swing. It hadn't been easy, the Man dropping everything when his parents came over, a whole new lifestyle of avoidances and trying to seem like a decent person. It had come with plenty of ups and downs, starting with said Man getting drunk at a party and Andrew being the only one with enough common sense to get him to stop drinking before he got wasted. Harry had tried, but he didn't want to push his luck anymore, fleeing and leaving the Man to a very reluctant Andrew. There was a family member at the party who had been to Seattle and was willing to share every drop of information about her trip, so Andrew listened in to the conversation and was happy that this Seattle was going strong. She had visited the Space Needle, saying it was fun, enjoyable, not scary. Andrew liked her already, she reminded him of himself, not because of Seattle, but because of her background. Bullied for a facial deformity caused by a brain tumor, but persisted and eventually became a teacher, then a nurse. She had been stronger than her fears, and he truly understood her. The party ended with the Man's uncle getting his car stuck in the front yard of his other aunt and uncle's house. The two giggling men watched as other family members tried to pull the car out, and they eventually did, after fifteen minutes and a large cable attached to a truck. They went home, stuck in the backseat of a car, listening to a beautiful song that they couldn't get out of their head, memories of drinking, rap music, pool, and a stuck car filling their brains. It was the first time in a while that Andrew had actually enjoyed a party. The week continued with several hitches, the first being Christmas decorations and the Man's mother being her whiny, bitchy self while the Man waited hand and foot on her. He was desperate to please her, but never could, and it hurt that he had to be so weak. It made Andrew's blood boil, it made him scream, only wanting to destroy the lazy woman and her abusive ways of life. In the end, the decorating was done well, mostly happy talking and the Man having all the good ideas. Good ideas were what caused another problem the very next day. They had all gone to the library to get books, and the Man's mother had offered to get him a Dunkin Donuts hot chocolate while he was getting precious items from the library. Things were going smoothly, no bumps in the road, the Man had his sacred cursed books along with some CDs for his Walkman and a movie that was a part of what kept him alive. When they arrived back at the house, the Man took in his cargo, Andrew following quickly behind him, longing to escape the cold. It was like slow motion when the Man came back to the car to grab the drinks. His foolish mother, in her haste to grab all three drinks, had set a cup on top of the icy car. It started to slide, to fall, and the Man called out to her that it was moving. She misinterpreted him, thinking HE was falling, and ignored the cup and its slow decent. Andrew watched in horror as it spilled all over the car, the Man grabbing the now almost empty cup with his hands. Brown liquid splashed his bare hand, causing him to wince in pain, but he soon ignored it. He only stared at his mother, then at the cup. It was so coincidental, almost a sick twisted luck that the drink was his. He looked at her, hurt and pain in his eyes, his mask not visible to her, only an utter sense of betrayal. Stupidity, she was full of stupidity, and Andrew was about ready to rip her limbs off one by one. The Man took the cup and stormed inside the house, only to come back for the other cups, which were in perfect condition. His mother was mortified, apologizing profusely, telling the Man that his father would get him another drink. But he didn't WANT another drink, he had only wanted her to wait for him, to be smarter, to LISTEN to him. But she never did. The Man even had to clean up the car, which he had done without asking, and it was almost therapeutic as he talked to the purple Kia about how much pain he was suffering. Andrew watched from afar as Jarvis the Kia was cleaned with wet paper towels, he only put a soft hand on the Man's shoulder and whispered that he didn't deserve this, this wasn't fair. Even worse was how the Man made it look like it was his fault so that his parents would look innocent, so they wouldn't have to suffer. Andrew growled in rage, yelling at the Man to stop hurting himself, to stop making the guilty look innocent. She was not innocent. The burns on the Man's hand and the pain on his face showed that. The Man looked up at his mother, scowling, blue eyes icy, like a bottomless cave that everyone would eventually get sucked into. He took one look at the new hot chocolate, took one sip, coughed, spit it out, and whispered, "I didn't want the damn drink." He secluded himself upstairs, his domain, his untouchable fortress. Andrew held him tight, comforting him as he cried, watching as the burns made the older Man's hand twitch. It was sickening how alike they were, how terrifying the abuse had become. The younger boy encouraged the Man to draw, to sing, to laugh, and it somehow worked. He was a smiling, laughing bundle of joy within the hour, and he managed to win the rest of the night. Won a game, won his husband back, even drank the lukewarm hot chocolate out of spite. 

No one ever noticed that his parents lost things over that night. No one noticed the mistakes in the mechanism, save for one telekinetic. 

He drowned out the sounds of their internal screaming with Car Radio by Twenty Øne Pilots, focused only on the movements of the dancing Man in front of him. 

They were suffering, and he would never feel guilty, for it was them who had brought destruction first.