A Prose With No Direction

mahogany walls with the scent of hugh

I find myself inside the house of a used-to-be stranger, sitting on a black, cushioned chair in front of a long, glass table. 

One chair.

Two chair.

Three chair.

Four.

There's an empty chair nearest to the bathroom door. 

The dining table of Hugh's residence sits to the far end of the huge room that greets you when you walk in. On my left, to where I'm sitting, there's an empty chair, and behind that chair is a door leading to a bathroom. Hugh sits right next to me, the two of us occupying the longer side of the glass table while Hugh's mom sits right in front of him, and an unknown man, most likely his father, sits to the left of Hugh as the head of the table. 

I feel uncomfortable, to be honest, feeling unwelcome and misplaced by this welcoming and inclusive family. It's been a while since I've been surrounded by a "mother" and "father," as well as having people to sit with and chat for a meal. 

It's really been a while.

"I'm so glad that you decided to join us for dinner," Hugh's mother, Ms. Lou, who insists I call her Kelly, says in delight, grilling the meet on her portable griller. "I know we don't seem like the type to enjoy food like this, so this must be a shock for you. While preparing the meat earlier, Hughie told me you got so excited when he told you there was pork belly. Is that your favorite? My favorite's intestines, but they didn't have it at the store today which made me sad. You're Korean, right? You certainly look like it."

Hughie.

That's a cute name.

"I like pork belly," I answer. "But I also like the other meats, too. And no, I'm not Korean."

"Then what are you, if you don't mind me aski—" Kelly starts, but her eyes turn away from mine, glancing to the pair beside me, the very action silencing her mouth.

I steal a quick glance at Hugh who just eats the side dishes, eyes fixated on the table and his food. Something in the atmosphere makes my stomach uneasy, and I feel my fingers grow cold. I can feel something's wrong in the family dynamic with Hugh's stiff stare, the unknown man's silent surveillance, and Kelly's quick reaction to shutting up. 

I find that there's a certain smell coming from those around me as well.

A smell I know all too well that's a mixture of alcohol, metal chains, and duct tape. 

And that scent heavily surrounds the unknown man at the end of the table. 

We finish our dinner in uncomfortable silence.

.

.

.

.

.

After dinner, Hugh takes me up to his room.

It's been a while since I was in a guy's room.

And it's the first time I went in willingly. 

His room is rather large, boasting a king-sized bed, a walk-in cabinet on the far end, and a bathroom on its opposite side. He has two desks, too, spread out in the room, one with three computers and a head set and the other just a few pencil cases and pictures.