Strings || Jasper Hale

The Cafeteria

By the time the weekend rolled around, Creed was a hundred times more tired than he had been before the week started. He'd hardly eaten anything because he was too frightened to brave the cafeteria. If Charlie knew, then he would go completely ballistic.

For the past three years or so, he and Renée had worked so hard to get him into a pattern where he felt comfortable enough to eat in public. They deserved more from him than to give up so quickly. Even so, it was going to take a lot more from Creed to enter that room of teenage pandemonium.

On the Sunday afternoon, Charlie was working, which was no surprise. It left Creed alone in his home, laying on his back. At first, he was reading, and then he played his instruments, and he even did some sketching before deciding that he was entirely bored. Everyone else would be hanging out with their friends. Creed didn't have friends, which was why he ended up talking to his brothers.

Nick and Tom were his half brothers on his father's side. Their dad was a little bit of a traveller, and a ladies man, so his three sons were born in three completely different countries. It wasn't usual in the slightest.

"We got to Belgium the other day." Nick said through the phone; Creed had it on speaker so he didn't have to hold it up to his ear for ages. "Great food."

"How's Tom?"

"Tom is... Tom. He won't bloody shut up, and everything he says is blummin French."

Creed sighed and shook his head. "You're in Belgium. They speak French. Tom speaks French. You speak French."

"I barely speak French." Nick huffed. "Apparently my accent is atrocious."

"Did Tom tell you that?"

"You know he did."

Tom didn't actually live in Belgium anymore, he moved away a couple years ago to live with Nick in Ireland. They were on their annual visit so that Tom could see his mother, and so that Nick could eat some of the food. He was nothing if not a glutton for fine meals.

It was Nick's thick, Irish accent which made travelling slightly more difficult for him. He couldn't get away from the traditional stigma, but at least he wasn't American. Creed keep reminding him of that, which made him appreciate his life that little bit more.

Three years had passed since all of them had lived under the same roof, but it had been even longer for his Dad. Rowan Monk was not a natural father, and made it very clear that he didn't intend to be. Hence, Phoenix.

"What's school like?" Nick showed an interest, but he doubted it would last very long. "Is it all Mean Girls with cliques and stuff?"

"Yeah, yeah, exactly like that." Creed groaned, rolling onto his side. "Only, Lindsay Lohan and Rachel McAdams aren't having a weird turf war in front of me."

"Okay, okay... how is it though. Really?"

"Weird." He cleared his throat, louder than he'd expected. "Teachers are nice I guess, it's just weird when people know who you are, and you don't know who they are."

"Sounds creepy."

"It is." Creed didn't want to stay on the subject, so spoke about something completely different. "I met someone the other day, when I was out on a walk."