A Thornless Rose Is No Longer So Pretty

Finally, I couldn't go too far; I barely covered three hundred meters before I stopped the car once more to change direction. I have to get him. I have to see him there; it's like an emergency. It's as if a boat alarm has gone off in my head; it sounds so loud that my head is about to explode, and it's not pleasant.

I went out to see him and pick him up. I would follow my first idea and feel better when he was with me when I saw his smile. So here I am again, driving or racing towards his place. He will hate me, but I will do it anyway.

Maybe he'll call me all the prickly, high-sounding words he knows. He's got a sharp tongue, and that little thing that may look fragile, sweet, and helpless to you isn't always so adorable in his language.

Don't let him get mad at you; otherwise, you might regret it. It would have been a combo if only he were this good at physically defending himself against his attackers.

Having a sharp tongue without knowing how to fight is almost a curse.

Imagine yourself for a moment in the middle of the street. Someone bumped into you, and they didn't apologize. Since it's something you hated and you know the power of your tongue, you get it into your head that maybe a little lesson in how to live in society will do this person a lot of good.

Unfortunately, this person is not only ill-educated but also a bully who hates being lectured, and even less by a boy who looks like two drops of water to a white rose.

Do you know what the bully would do? He will try his luck to show you that your damn well-hung tongue is worth nothing compared to his rudeness and lack of education and will take your face off in a few seconds.

Sometimes I wonder what he would have done if he didn't have his friend Zack by his side, I am not too fond of his stupid face, but he is important to Ken.

He told me how this one watched over him; if he is with him, no one takes the chance to insult him or make a weird remark about him, and this even if he is partly the person who invites these insults by deliberately provoking the others.

He knows how to fight, but he has never faced anyone in a real fight other than to train, so I have not yet taken it upon myself to check if he knows how to fight.

His father dragged him by the skin of his neck and ass to force him to participate in more manly activities even when he did not want to so that he could attend his boxing classes and such, but he never liked all that.

His things are dancing, music, drawing, and making crazy plans. He has some great ideas.

I finally figured out why he was so excited when I brought him home for the first time. It's because it's his passion, and I wonder how he will react when I take him to the mansion. It will be epic. I feel it.

Oh yeah, he has some great ideas, and maybe I'll do some more renovations to the mansion under his direction. Who knows?

Until today, he continues to ask questions about everything he sees in the penthouse, and every day he discovers something new that he hadn't noticed before. I don't know how he does it, but it starts to tickle me too. Architecture takes on another meaning with him....

He's not dull. He can tell you a story ten million times, and you'll feel like you've heard it for the first time. He plays with everything to make the story more enjoyable: the tones he takes, the sound of his voice, and the expression on his face. Everything is well calculated.

And he's good at conveying emotions. I bet it's for these many little things that his teachers appreciate him so much; he's not just a good dancer who knows the steps and has good technique and stuff.

But he makes you live the story he tells you. You feel like you are accompanying him on his adventure like you are the character he tells the story about. You will cry, laugh, get angry, and feel relieved throughout the show. You are the subject of so much emotion that you wonder, why are you in such a bad state when it is a damn show?

Watching him dance is not only a delight for the eyes but also a source of all kinds of emotions that invade you and good feelings that form in the pit of your stomach as the show progresses to its end.

Sometimes you wonder why you're mad when you're only watching a show. That happened to me, and I read all the plays he played at the opera. I wanted to know the stories and feel even closer to him. I wanted to know the characters he embodies perfectly on stage; his world is so pleasant.

I did other research on other dancers to see how they dance to compare them to him, but there is no comparison. He was born for this and did it with his heart, body, and soul.

He has no pretensions, is not mean, and is not embittered or envious of others.

He is only himself, sweet and pure, but we all know the curse of his tongue. A rose needs its thorns; without them, it is no longer as pretty, and everyone would claim to be able to handle and take care of them. It's part of its beauty, and it's a plus.

He's pure and just content to do what he loves with forgetfulness of self that makes him perfect for every role. He's who he embodies, the time and the era in which the story has been lived.

He is extraordinary. He is a compatible vase for any type of liquid regardless of its density and volume; he would contain it and make an excellent thing out of it.

Because of him, I know a lot of great classical pieces. Some are very interesting, others are boring and meaningless in my opinion, but that's just me and my opinion.

Although I find some of them boring to death, I am sure of one thing: if Ken performs it, it will be fantastic, and I will spend hours watching it repeatedly.

I think he has to start dancing stories about our time or the previous one. Levels change, society evolves, and the whole planet is changing. They need a little change.

We have a lot of stories to tell to remain cloistered for so long in such a distant past, texts written by writers who must have been crazy because they write in a style that can make you feel stupid if you don't have your whole head.

It's time to switch things up a bit, I think.

I am here today talking about dance as if it were always a passion for me as if it's something I know. I let myself grow wings there; I know it. But all that is Ken's fault, not mine.

I'm not focused all the time on a single subject of study; he broadens my horizons, I open up to other matters, and sometimes I even forget my security gadgets. I find myself doing research or reading manuals on the things he likes to better listen to him when he talks to me because he knows how to listen to me.

"Never take what you are given out of kindness and without ulterior motives for granted." The other person has needs too. It's Ethan and Cody who say that all the time.

It is him who lead me down this slope, and it is him who opens me up to these unknown horizons. He opened my eyes to other possibilities, worlds, things I didn't know, or things I didn't care about because they meant nothing to me.

There is a category of people just waiting to see what you know how to do so well to feel good afterward, to escape their daily torment. And we don't all have the same tastes. That's how I understood that everything we do matters, no matter what we do we just have to do it well.

This boy is like gangrene. He's not going to stop just at the little place that I assigned him in my life. He's starting to take up a lot more space than expected. I don't know if that's good because I don't intend to keep him with me and risk extinguishing his light.

For the past two weeks, he hasn't told me any stories. He's taken me off his list of things to take care of.

Whose fault is it, Aim? Yeah, it's my fault, I know. and I'm not going to tell you again that I was stupid, and I know it. this is the last time I call myself stupid too.

I am being followed. I spotted them long ago, and my undecided state of mind about what to do must ultimately drive them crazy by now. Serve them well!

I did not ask Cody to follow me; he must be worried about me doing some crazy things.

I was in no condition to drive when I left the apartment, and after what happened two years ago, he has every right to be worried about me.

Sometimes he's way too calculating and acts too much like an average human for my taste, but after all, I created him for that, and no human is normal, too. I think Cody is perfect, then.

He had me followed by three black sedans with my initials; it's way too much there. He's starting to take the bad habits of Nodge; maybe he's starting to age too. Who knows?

"You can never be careful enough," always says this one.That's why I always had a horde of security watching over me when I was little, and they increased the rate of my anxiety.

Until I couldn't take it anymore. I crossed them with every two steps I took in the mansion, and believe me, the estate wasn't just a little handshake. It was a world unto itself.

I have had them reduced, and they have been reassigned to the more open area, and some are just waiting to be ordered to follow me. Those who follow me have not been assigned to home surveillance.

They move around all the time. They follow me when I go to class, I mean, on the university rooftop, but I haven't used them for a long time. They even followed me to training camps, except at that boarding school, and I think that was a big mistake.

Nodge and Cody have put them back in service since I started dating Ken and since the info was leaked that I would attend Ken's mom's gala. They don't know how it got spread, so they're cautious. Better safe than sorry.

And then, with the security system I installed at the mansion, it is difficult or even impossible for someone to break in the property without us knowing it.

So it wasn't worth making a big fuss about it then. I sometimes have this impression of being an important and high-ranking member of the Russian mafia or the Yakuza, which is almost overwhelming.

I have something more important to take care of today, so I'm not going to play dumb and make them run all over London to catch me up. Then it's too childish. I have to think about growing up like Cody often says.

"You have a boyfriend to care for, Aim, so act on it. How can you take care of someone who loves you if you have such childish behavior? It's time to grow up, buddy because your boyfriend needs a man in his life, not a wayward, sneaky toddler. "

So I'm a wayward, sneaky toddler, do you believe that? Tks...

He was not like that before. He respected me, and he avoided saying things to me that might upset me, but he had always had his tongue as sharp as Ken's.

Oh, but they are a bit alike on some points.

With the arrival of Ken, he no longer spares me anything. He tells me everything that goes through his head without brushing it off. He makes suggestive remarks to me and treats me as if he were the creator and I am his creation. Isn't it daring on his part, huh?

Since Ken's arrival, he has changed, and he has also evolved. He has a lot more human interaction in his life; he doesn't just act like a machine that obeys me or has specific functions to manage without being away from his goal or who is afraid that I disconnect all his functions on a whim.

He is very sure of himself and a bit arrogant even. And he protects Ken from me more than he protects me from him. It's a situation that I don't understand. But I let it be since I am more destructive than the latter.

He is like me, who wants to protect Ken against wind and tide, but he really applies himself to it, and sometimes he even treats me as a danger, a threat to others.

OK, yes, I am, I know.

After all, he was the one who met him first.

I am finally in front of his parents' villa, but my legs are tingling now. I dared not get out of the car or move a single finger. The Bugatti's engine continues to hum while I try to bring some calm and order to my thoughts.

I have to come to my senses and choose carefully what I will tell him to explain my presence at his house once I find myself face-to-face with him, if he receives me, of course.

OK, I just realized that I have a lot of desires to satisfy all at once... So I'm going to cross my fingers that he receives me. I don't want to go home without him; more importantly, I don't want to do anything crazy. I just need to see, talk to, and hug him. Maybe tease him a little bit too.

While I was sitting there thinking about all the things I needed or wanted from him, two discrete knocks were struck on the passenger side window of my car. I jumped because I was a little elsewhere, very far in my thoughts. I did not see this gentleman arrive, a little austere and stiff in a service sailor suit, leaning over to talk to me when I rolled the window down for him.

"Forgive me, sir, for disturbing you, but you cannot park here. It is private property."

"I'm sorry, but I'm coming to see my friend who lives here. Could you please help me to announce my presence to him?"

"I can do that, and who is your friend, Sir?"

"Ewen, sir."

"Ah, OK, and can I have your name, please?"

"Aim Williams, sir."

"Give me a few seconds, Mr. Williams."

He straightened up. It should be painful to bend down like that, but he doesn't let any of that show. He takes a few steps towards the big gate before returning to the car with a thoughtful expression.

"Tell me, Mr. Williams, are you a guest of young Mr. Schröder for brunch?"

"Yes, yes, that's exactly it. Am I late? " I hastened to say. Hm, he had brunch with his family. That must be hell over there.

"Yes, everyone is already there, and I believe everything has already started, and certainly, Mr. Williams, you are late."

"Hurry up, hurry up; otherwise, you risk being lectured on punctuality by Madame, and the grandparents are also there. I will not tell you what sermon you will be entitled to. "

"I'm sorry, I had something unexpected."

"Don't apologize, I understand, but hurry up. Your friend must be impatient to see you and a little stressed too."

With these words, he straightened up and almost started running towards the gate, forgetting all ceremony and protocol. Watching him run like this was almost comical, and he was all relaxed now.

He disappears behind the electric barrier, which begins to slide aside to let me pass; I engage the Bugatti on the path which has opened up in front of me. Glancing at my rear-view mirror, I wanted to see where my bodyguards were.

They were parked not far from me. Can they stay there? I don't know, but I imagine they will find out soon.

The entrance is a long distance from the house. As I approached, two servants came out of the big door. They were a little frightened. Their working conditions must not please them.

I park on the gravel not far from the entrance. I don't intend to stay; I'm just there to pick up Ken. Once I find him, I'll leave here as soon as possible.

I hope he will follow me of his own free will because he is at home. I could not carry him by force to my car, and all his family was there, according to the gentleman who watched the entrance. I guess this Zack guy is also there, and that's probably why he didn't answer my call.

As soon as I got out of the car, a young girl, probably another staff member or a guest of this famous brunch, ran out.

Why are people always encumbered themselves with arranging appointments of all kinds? I think it's just a way for them to keep an eye on others to better snoop around their business.

My grandparents were no different; my parents ran away from all that worldly activity because they had way too much to do for all that extravagance.

But they still participate in three family meetings during the year. It was imperative, plus some business matters too.

She doesn't wear a uniform like the rest of the staff. She only wore a loose pastel pantsuit and flat shoes. She was more scared than the other two, older than her, who opened the door.

"Sir, please help me," she said.

Without expecting me to answer, she didn't even notice my recoil. She was far too preoccupied with what frightened her to pay me much more attention than that.

And she grabbed the belt of my leather jacket and dragged me behind her, running. I don't know why I didn't struggle to get out of her grip. She has a hell of a hold, too. She is slim and quite pretty, with long beautiful hair tied up in a curly ponytail.

This mad dash reminds me of when Jade gave me a run the first time I met him.

"We must help him. Please help us; otherwise, he will beat him to death. "

She screamed while dragging me behind her.

These words froze the blood in my veins, and I saw red. I only want one thing now: to set this house on fire and ashes, yet I don't even know who I have to help.

Except that, my instinct tells me, Kenan is the one I have to help. He tends to provoke people without having to open his mouth. After all, his grandparents were there, so he must have annoyed someone.

He's already done it to me, so I know a little bit about his naughty and provocative side. He's not one to throw words when he's outraged. But the way he acts will tell you there's a problem, but that's a thing you'll understand once you know him.

He didn't speak to me because I turned around to look at a girl, but I wasn't looking at her. I just thought she had a device hidden in her hair that she wore tied on the top of her head, and I wanted to be sure it was true, but he took it differently.

It's not nice to have an angry, silent Ewen around, and it's not nice to have me in these circumstances, either. If he were someone else, I would have wrung his neck this and by now, since it wouldn't have taken me much strength to do it either, but hey, he's mine, and I'm starting to understand him better.

When he yells at you, disappointed with all his claws out, it's not a big deal, but when he's angry and switch into silence mode, you shall try to understand what happened. Luckily, I have Cody to help me.

He asked me to tell him everything I did so he could analyze the situation and help me understand what I did wrong, and that's how I understood that I looked at a girl while I was with him. In contrast, I usually don't pay attention to the people around me.

Hay, this boy is making me work like a beast in every aspect of my life. Strangely, I like that a little.

Being a human being is a whole challenge. He pushes me to question myself, to ask myself, who am I?