Turquoise Puppet

Chapter 8

You said "don't be afraid, the world will accept us someday".

But I drowned myself in what I thought some might say.

Wait a second.

As soon as you say no, your mother plunges into a tale of how you and Alec met and became friends as children. Apparently, the two of you found out on that same day that you actually lived virtually right next to each other. When you explained to your mother what happened, even she almost laughed at the reason you felt sad. Young Alec spent an afternoon at your place, listening to you practise the piano. During that whole time, he said not a word, even though he was quite talkative in almost all other circumstances.

But that isn't what you are thinking of now.

No. No, it can't be.

Your mother's voice fades into the background. A chill runs down your spine.

It can't be because of me.

And yet you remember very clearly that those were his exact words: those people there won't even try to talk about you like that.

You try to shake the thought away. He had to have been passionate about athletic activities to begin with, right? It can't be for your sake that he chose the path that he chose. It simply cannot be. You need...do you need more proof?

"Mom." You interrupt her story, not even knowing what she is talking about now. "I'd rather be alone right now. I'm sorry."

She sighs, but stands up. "It's alright, son. I'm sorry too."

"What?" You perk up, wary and curious at the same time.

"You and Alec...were more than friends, right? I realized that when he came out as bisexual; but you didn't say anything, and I wasn't ready for that kind of thing, and—"

"His family disowned him for it," you interject, your own confusion turning your grief into anger. "The town he grew up in disowned him for it."

Without even admitting it outright, you know that your quivering voice has given you away. Your burning gaze finds your mother's eyes, and instead of reprimanding you as you expect her to, she puts a hand on your back.

"I'm sorry," she repeats, her tone softening even more. "I know it's too late. I'm just saying you don't have to hide that from me anymore."

"Mom." You have a habit of calling her first before speaking—especially when you need her to pay full attention to what you are saying. "Alec wasn't bisexual."

She creases her brows. Perhaps she understands, but she wants to make sure. "You mean...? But he's had girlfriends since his stardom, hasn't he?"

"That's the part I need to think about. Give me some time."

"Alright." She lifts her hand off of you and returns to the couch where her bag is. "I'll go buy some things and come back to make you some food. Sounds okay?"

"Yes," you answer. "Oh, and mom?"

"Yeah?"

"I assume you won't tell anyone?"

"Of course not. I almost lost you once already."

☆☆☆

You and Esmae had gone to the same arts institution, and Alec separately to a sports school. While you and Esmae both majored in music, she ended up becoming a model, and you a composer. More than once, those you'd worked with asked—half jokingly—if you would consider adding words to your own music and singing them. You always declined, your reason being you were uncomfortable under the spotlight.

"A lot of us start out that way," they would then say. You would simply shrug them off.

In what seemed like a parallel world, Alec appeared in the public eye much earlier. You never could quite figure out how much time exactly he spent in the actual institution, because he had been scouted soon after your first year at college even began, and began to play basketball professionally. He seemed to attract audiences the exact same way he did back in high school. Those interested in the actual sport discussed his prowess, many others discussed his physical appearance, but most were drawn in by his attitude. Snapshots of Alec Warrensword laughing with his friends were frequently circulated online; it wasn't rare that he was seen chatting with the opposing team after a game too.

Even though you never sought him out, he was always within your reach. In fact, even if you didn't reach for him of your own accord, society would bring him to you.

Then, one day, a video went viral on the internet.

It was taken by a girl who did not show up on camera. She and her friend spotted Alec on the other side of the road and immediately called for him, squealing while also trying not to. As he heard his name, he turned.

"Can we have an autograph?" one of the girls asked.

He nodded. She let out an excited squeak and glanced at the one holding the camera. The cameraperson was the first to move—she began to walk across the road. However, Alec held up a hand to stop her. She stopped, and he made his way to them instead. The path took him only a few steps.

The friend clumsily reached into her bag and fished out the first piece of paper she could find. It happened to be a music score of sorts. The cameraperson laughed; the friend giggled, a little embarrassed.

"Aren't these music sheets?" Alec asked, taking the sheet of paper as well as the pen she offered. He glanced at the score briefly before signing on a blank spot near the top.

"Yeah," answered the friend, watching his autograph until he finished. It was only then that she looked up to meet his gaze. Hers was a timid peek, his, an encouraging smile. "That's the only piece of paper I have on me," she added, giggling right afterwards.

"I see, I see," said Alec, "What do you play?"

"The piano."

"Nice...do you play any kind of sports yourself?"

"No, no," said both of the girls. Once again, they erupted into a synchronized series of giggles. "Actually, we only watch when you're on. We don't actually know anything about anything or—yeah, hahaha!"

Alec gave a light chuckle. He looked down at the music score again before handing it back to the two. "It's quite alright, actually. I had a friend like that too."

"Really?" asked the friend, "It's like—!"

She was stopped short by the sound of a man yelling nearby. The camera panned to that direction. A man could be seen standing with an empty glass bottle in hand. He pointed at the group of three with his bottle and called out, "What are you girls screaming about so early in the morning?"

"Um..." mumbled one of the girls, "Sorry...?"

The man seemed to only recognize Alec then, but he focused mainly on the cameraperson, as though they knew each other. Bellowing a curse of sorts, he hurled the bottle in his hand at the camera.

In the next instant, many things happened: the girls and a few other onlookers screamed; passersby encircled the man to restrain him; some called the police; more cameras appeared, and most decisively, Alec caught the bottle with ease. He caught it, and set it down on the ground by the lamppost. He then turned to the cameraperson, slightly concerned.

"You girls alright?" he asked, looking at them both.

The girls took in deep breaths and muttered their thanks, mumbling yesses in between. Even though the camera was solely focused on Alec now, anyone would be able to hear that they had started sobbing.

"It's okay to be scared when someone starts throwing stuff at you," Alec said quietly, his expression unreadable.

At this time, the friend of the cameraperson asked for a hug, and so he gave her one, patting her lightly on the head. The cameraperson, although her hands were visibly shaking, made sure to catch that moment before ending the video.