The Prince's Fiancé (BoyXBoy)

Chapter I Royal Pain

Chapter 1 Royal Pain

Trent

"Mmm! Can you smell that Mr. Bateman?"

A man dressed in khakis, fishing hat and flannel wasn't all that impressed. "What's in God's name is that awful smell?" He wrinkled his nose in distaste, not bothering to hide his accent. At least here it would be called an accent. He said the words while looking around at the students semi-gathered around, like they were... savages? When really, all they were doing was walking close together and trying to shout over each other. Freshmen as it seemed.

"Yum." A random kid with bleached white hair said, while walking by. Pins and every strange assortment of metal clinked with every step he took. "Smells like French toast."

"I beg your pardon?" Mr. Bateman tried to catch the kid's attention, but the kid was too far out of earshot now.

In retrospect, they were simply teenagers, not appearing to be all that eager to be here. Some looked curious, others looked frightened, and the rest looked bored out of their minds. Caleb—AHEM—Trent was feeling the opposite. To him this was all seen as a simple, fresh start. A strange land. A place where no one knew him. Or his secret.

"That's the smell of freedom!" Caleb gave up at holding his arms open to give Mr. Bateman a look. "Mr. Bateman, your accent." Though he gave no thought to letting his own accent slip.

Mr. Bateman, blue eyed, slightly freckled on both of his cheeks, always carrying a proper, well raised attitude, raised both of his eyebrows at once. "Sorry m-"

"Shh!" Trent considered in covering the man's mouth, but quickly discarded the idea. The attempt would have been fruitless. Besides he respected the hell out of the guy. He'd known Mr. Bateman for as long as he could remember. Mr. Bateman was like a second father to him. Someone he'd grown quite fond of.

Mr. Bateman looked like he was about to apologize but thought better of it.

Trent eyed Mr. Bateman from head to toe, making a mental note of what not to dress like. The tanned khakis were impossible to miss. Even though Trent was by no means, a fashion expert, but even he could see how Mr. Bateman's outfit clashed. It was different compared to the usual tuxedos and expensive suits he wore. Mr. Bateman more or less, looked like a fish out of water. A fish with dignity that is. Trent knew not to comment and to ignore the strange looks he was starting to get.

This wasn't home. Here, he had the freedom to dress as he pleased. Right now, Trent wore a simple pair of baggy brown shorts and a dark blue muscle shirt. A pair of earpiece headphones were hanging limp over his right shoulder. Courtesy of Mr. Bateman. The thin white wire led down to his right pocket where he carried a couple of blank notebooks causally to his side. He remembered to slouch and look slightly aloof, even though he was secretly excited to be where he was.

Public High School. Who would have thought? The building before them wasn't all that impressive. It was a three story tall, and wide maroon brick building. The windows were open. Trent could smell the familiar smells of what smelled like carpet cleaner, fresh paint and musty textbooks. Trent thought it had an old soul.

"Sir, I don't think anyone listening to us. They all seem to be, listening to rather loud racket. They call this music?" Trent chuckled while Mr. Bateman looked around, wide eyed. Like he was standing in the middle of the jungle. "Or staring at their... phones."

Trent put an arm around the usually uptight man and pulled him close while giving a wide sweep of a hand gesture. "This my fellow man, is a public high school. Look at all various group's people of America call... cliché's."