Aiden Writes Ted x Chris Fanfiction

What We Did Wrong

"So Aiden," Nick started nervously, "how long have you been here?"

My gaze was fixed on the ceiling. The number of blotches and dents that decorated its area was one I couldn't count.

I didn't answer.

"Down here," he pestered, "in Ted's captivity?"

I slung my head in the direction of his calm voice.

His attempts to become friendly with me were ineffective. Though ignoring him would only lead to something worse than my silence.

"Three years, since I was twelve," I said.

I couldn't help but remember the day my life had completely become the forced fiction of a liar.

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"So Chris," Mom mused, "that Todd boy-"

"Ted," Chris interrupted amusingly.
"Yes, Ted," she chuckled, "he's a nice boy. Just your type, too!"

Chris gasped. "Mom!"

The sun was setting, its light filtering through the window's coffee-coloured blinds. Mom, Chris, and I were sitting and chatting together at the kitchen table, resting from all of the hard work we put into the house that day. It had been two months since we moved in and we barely finished unpacking and decorating.

The cardboard boxes were empty and folded, stacked flat atop one another in the corner of the kitchen. Tape stuck out from the edges and hung from the trash can.

The room was warm, from the sun and the almost scenic decor. The counters were chocolatey with cream designs. Fresh hazel paint stuck on the walls, though they were yet to be transformed even further. The cabinets were painted with peaceful birds and laced with viridity.

Mom loved nature and natural colours, like brown and olive and the light of a sunny evening.

That's why she couldn't stand the thought of living in the place we do.

That's why she couldn't believe such beautiful and sincere things could bear to present themselves in such close proximity to her husband's lashing and vexation when all she had done was nothing at all.

That's why she decorated her whole house in her favourite tints, hues, and tones.

That's why she aurified her dishes and plates and bowls.

That's why she longed to go back to her old, lost home hidden behind the pines and burned by abuse.

It was there, she knew it was.

But the trees didn't call for her. The birds wouldn't sing to her. The grass couldn't make way for her.

Kate knew it damn well.

"It's nice to have time together again with you, Mom," I spoke up. Chris and I had previously lived with our grandparents for a few years after Mom drove us to their farm one night with panic in her eyes.

She never told us why.

Mom worked for hours every day to support herself and the deadbeat, occasionally fitting in some time to spend with us. She pieced together savings every Christmas and birthday that passed to give us the most heartwarming gifts I never knew anyone could receive. She never missed important events, and it really meant a lot to me.

Mom always tried to stay positive, her humor and blandness covering up her own past.

Mom's smile had almost faltered. After years and years of practicing, I can confirm her acting skills can fool anyone but Chris and I.

"It is nice, kiddo. It really is." Her eyes softened. Chris smiled brightly and got up to hug her. I beat him to her though.

We clung to my mom for dear life and she started to cry.

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The clock on the stove glowed brightly, the numbers on it were blurry and unimportant. Though I remembered they read "8:17" in the night time.

Ted was sat down in Mom's chair at the kitchen table, with worry in his eyes I should've realized to be absolute counterfeit.

Mom had gotten into a car crash half an hour ago on her way to the store. Chris and I waited on the couch painfully, and I had recalled the events after Chris received a call from Ted earlier.

"You saw what?" Chris panicked. Ted was speaking quickly into his phone as he ran to our house. I was beyond worried. "What's wrong," I repeated, only being given hesitant and remorseful looks from Chris as he listened to Ted's franticity. Chris broke down more and more, ugly cries escaped his covered mouth as Ted tried to calm him down through the phone. Suddenly, we heard the sweet sounds of Mom's personalized bird door bell ring through the house, only triggering us to become more of a mess than we already were.

I stared blankly at the wooden-looking phone as I waited for a call from the hospital to tell us that everything was okay. That Mom was okay. Surely they'd find a way to contact us. Even if she wasn't conscious.

A call did come; 10:00 sharp with news we didn't want to hear.

She died in the hospital. It was so fast I could barely believe it. She wasn't even given another day to live, another hour for us to arrive, another minute to lie that she was okay, and we would be okay.

Another second to tell her we loved her.

Who was responsible for this? Did they survive? Was this their own fault? I could barely think with so many accusing questions occupying my mind.

The moonlight filtered through the window's coffee-coloured blinds. The darkness covered my tears and the faint glow of the light sat upon my lap. I tried to cry quieter, to hide how terrible I felt. But I'd never hid an emotion as big as the one I felt then.

Ted held Chris in his arms, kissing him and whispering obvious lies into his ear. At least, obvious to me. Chris's cries echoed off of Ted as if his comfort drew more sound. Ted looked sad, and that was it. To anyone else he was broken and crushed.

But expressions are a lot like words. Some are more meaningful than others, and some can even be mistranslated. You just have to identify the right one to understand.

"I'll take care of you, Chris," Ted promised, "and Aiden, too."

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It was almost 11 when Ted herded Chris and I into his weirdly themed house. He apparently lived alone, triggering suspicion as to why Chris and Ted only had sleepovers at Ted's.

We were all crying together, though I assumed Ted had used eye drops for his salty ass tears. He had the fucking nerve to act like he cared.

He stood, and announced that we should all get some sleep. "Leave the mourning to the morning."

That sick fuck.

He lead us to the guest bedroom. There were two beds, but I decided to sleep with Chris since we both needed the comfort. We settled down, and Ted offered us some warm milk with vanilla and cinnamon to help us get sleep.

Saying "yes" was what we did wrong.

We got to sleep without any kind of struggle. That energy was saved for later.

I woke up in a cold, steel room with a chain dangling at my ankle.

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GUESS WHO'S FUCKIN BACK MOTHA FUCKAS.

I fuckin swear my only excuse for not updating is school. I wrote all of this in a day 'cause I finally have time. So like, here.