The Outsider

"...You don't have to listen to me, you know. I told you that I understand why I'm here and why you want me to stay indoors. It's dangerous out there for me, right? Your parents always said it was, and they were smart, so... I totally get it, Max. But the market does sound like fun and... maybe one day we could do that? Until then, I'm happy just... being here with you," he decided, smiling quickly to show that, despite his former words, he was perfectly content with how his situation was. It was a lie, of course, because even despite the promise that he could one day leave to the market, it was hardly the adventure he wanted and craved. He wanted to go and head out to a party, not pick up some groceries at the market. It was heading outside, but it really wasn't big enough for him.

"I don't have family issues, that's a lie," he contradicted, easing himself out of the bath once deciding he had cleaned up enough. "My family is you, and we don't have problems. Your parents were my family and I never had issues with them. My... real parents aren't family, so I don't have 'family issues'. I don't know them. I can't remember them. I... don't want to, either. Would you want to get to know the people that sent you off to a completely new planet without supervision or guarantees for your safety? I could have crashed and died on impact; I could have landed near someone who tried to kill me. I don't think I consider those people that sent me away as family, Max. You're my family, that's... not up for debate."
 
"You're right," he murmured with a nod as he watched the other leave. Only when Milo was looking away did he himself slip out of the bath and quickly wrapped a towel around his hips. Tying in a proper knot, he pulled his eyepatch back on and carefully wandered back to his room. The bath had definitely eased some of his fog but he couldn't take any chances, after all.

"I'm going to take a nap, okay? I doubt you want to be around me while I'm drunk, I'm boring," he teased with a snort as he made his way to his room. Once there, he tugged up some cheesy boxers covered in bunnies (that of which he was given to as a joke by his father) and his favorite fleece sweater. His sweater-wearing habits only grew both now that his parents were dead and the fact that winter wasn't too far off on the horizon.

"If you need anything, I'll be in my room, okay?" He called before closing the blinds shut when the light only aided his hangover. "... I want you to know I love you, okay? I don't like it when we fight, Milo."
 
"I don't think we're arguing. I thought we were having a discussion. Just because we disagree doesn't mean we're arguing, I appreciate your opinion because I love you and I care about your thoughts and feelings," the alien smiled politely as he leaned over to help tuck him in. It was a simple move, but it was only recently that he had been able to perform it for him, after years of Maxwell being the one to tuck Milo into bed. It was a small gesture, but he felt that it showed his gratitude, and that was important to him.

But heading out to explore was also vitally important to him too, even if it seemed to contradict his desire to show gratitude. Showing gratitude would be obeying Maxwell's stern feelings concerning, effectively, Milo's house imprisonment, but staying another hour in the home was certain to drive Milo mad. He was also certain that everyone had underestimated his intelligence. He had arrived to the family completely ignorant of everything, and even though he was now fluent in the language and had a decent standard of education thanks to Maxwell and his parents' teaching, he still assumed that they had disregarded just how smart he was. It was why he felt just a twinge of pride once he managed to get hold of Maxwell's phone and his set of keys, having waited patiently for him to drift to sleep before sneaking in and retrieving them.

Drifting through the contacts, he left a message for Ricky to meet him at the coffee shop, where he decided to explain that Maxwell couldn't make it and he was there in his place. He was determined to at least meet up with someone Maxwell seemed to be close to. It would help him feel normal and make him feel closer to Maxwell. It was obviously difficult to meet up with someone at a coffee shop he didn't know the location of, but he had heard Maxwell's parents gush about the little coffee place around the corner for years, and he knew Maxwell often frequented it. On that basis alone, he assumed it couldn't be that far. He also didn't know what Ricky looked like, which was another obstacle, but he figured that it couldn't be that hard. He knew he would be young, around his age, which was a start.

His venture outside the front door was a huge step for him, but one he really needed to take. Being outside was overwhelming and strange - the sight of traffic, for example, completely bewildered him, though the genuine feeling of exhilaration overshadowed the very slight fear he had. It was all new to him, but the simple walk down the street was everything he hoped it would be. It made him feel normal to blend in amongst the crowd, and that was all he really wanted; to feel normal. When he did find the coffee place, after a brief five minutes of panic when he thought he was lost, he was genuinely proud of himself, taking a seat in the corner with a wide smile. He could easily have spent hours sat there, observing people and the way they interacted, but he was too busy focusing on the people that entered, keeping eye for any young man he thought could fit the bill. Even if he didn't meet Ricky, this was still a momentous occasion for him - though meeting Maxwell's friend would definitely put the cherry on the cake for him.
 
Waiting patiently in his varsity jacket, Ricky was patiently waiting at a table with a frown. He hadn't spent much with Maxwell outside of parties and, in a surprisingly sweet act, he was hoping to have a cute little meet up somewhere that wasn't fueled by alcohol. To hear that a complete stranger was going to take his place, plus assuming that meant Maxwell wasn't feeling well, he was more than a tad worried.

To say he was completely innocent was a lie, though. Maxwell's sexuality was hilariously obvious to everyone but Maxwell himself. Ricky - in what he told himself was through concern - was mostly doing this all to essentially have sex with the former athlete. Maxwell may not have been as naive as Milo but that didn't mean he was aware of everything, and was completely oblivious to Ricky's motives.

With a sigh, the man decided to order a latte and scroll through his phone absently, contemplating whether or not to just leave.

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Interacting with someone that wasn't Maxwell had always seemed utterly impossible when Milo was a boy, to the point that he had never contemplated it once because it seemed ludicrous. To now have that former impossibility become reality was just a tad daunting, and Milo had spent the best part of ten minutes trying to work out how to sound normal. He didn't know how kids his age really talked, or how they talked to one another, and he didn't want to come across like a complete fool. Once he saw Ricky and worked out who he was, he had desperately tried to talk himself up in his own head to build up some confidence. It wasn't like he had just landed on the planet a day ago; he had spent 13 years here, and by now, he recognised himself as practically human. In the end, he quietly walked over and slipped into the seat opposite the man. Even if he was disastrous at talking to him, he figured that he would just be cast as socially awkward.

"You're Ricky, right? I'm Milo. Maxwell's... cousin," he smiled, deciding to simply go along with that fabrication, though mostly through a lack of managing to conjure any other lie up at last minute. Tapping his fingers against the table nervously, he offered another grin to try and make up for the brief silence.

"He's not well. He's hungover, he was being sick all over the place, it was dreadful. I wanted to meet you anyway, he says a lot of nice things, so he said I should go and meet with you in his place. I don't get out much, so... I thought, hey, why not go along and meet someone new he speaks highly of? And... And here I am, so... hi."
 
"Oh, uh, hi," Ricky replied, naturally surprised by the fact that Maxwell's apparent 'cousin' looked nothing like the man. Nonetheless, he figured being kind to Milo would only further his plans so settled on offering a smile and a hand for a handshake.

If there was one thing Ricky was known for outside of his athletic skills, it was his charming personality. He was sweet to everyone - sickeningly so, some have commented. It was one of the reasons he was able to easily get Maxwell's attention. It was cruel, in a sense, though he ultimately didn't give a shit. What he wanted was what he wanted and he'd do everything in his power to get that, even if it meant spending extra time.

"So he's sick? That's unfortunate. I hope he's good enough to come out again tonight? I'll admit, he holds his ground well for a freshman," Ricky admitted smoothly before taking another sip. "Oh - I'm sorry, would you like a cup? It's just - Max has never mentioned a cousin before. Are you new to town?"
 
"I have family issues so I'm crashing with him for a while. He has the house to himself, so... he has plenty of room there," the other replied, using all his knowledge from various TV shows to try and sound like a normal teenager; one who hadn't been imprisoned inside his own house for the last decade or so. He was acutely aware that he was acting awkwardly, but considering this was his first interaction with someone who wasn't Maxwell, or Maxwell's parents, he thought he was doing amazingly. He hadn't broken down, or dashed off, so just remaining in his seat was an achievement.

"I'm sure he'll be okay for the party, he... mentioned that he likes going because you're there, so... I'm sure he'll be alright. I'd rather he stayed at home so I could watch over him, but he seems eager to head out again, and... I can't invite myself along to a stranger's party, that's just rude," he sighed, trying to be as subtle as he possible could. "...I mean, I'd love to come, obviously. He's my... cousin, I want to be able to look out for him. He has a tendency to... be clumsy. He gets into accidents. If I'm there, he won't hurt himself-- I'm protective, I guess-- this isn't really interesting, is it? Tell me about you. Max says you're into football or something?"
 
"You're welcome to come, I don't really care," he admitted easily. "I would have invited you sooner if I knew about you. I don't judge, yeah~? To be honest, that's quite commendable of you to want to look after him - I mean, he broke the punch bowl last time by pushing it off the table. It was an antique from my grandma but-" he paused, exhaling hard. "I get it. I mean, he only has one eye, right? I'm sure that messes with perception and whatnot. How he's such a good soccer player is beyond me..."

Holding back the urge to grimace at the memory, he forced it into a smile instead as he moved to twirl a curly lock between his fingers. It was worth it, especially if he could make Maxwell pay by spreading the news he had sex with the man throughout the college. It all depended on how Maxwell would act at the next party.

"I'm a football player," he explained rather proudly. "I know I may not look like the traditional beef head but hey, I have a scholarship so that means something. That doesn't matter, tell me more about yourself~? Are you going to college locally?"
 
"I'm not going to college, I... just have the basic education. I've never had the chance to further my education, but that's fine. College isn't for everyone, I suppose. Maxwell's smarter than I am, so he can do the college thing and I'll... maybe I'll get a job? He isn't keen on that. I've been sick for a while, he'd rather just... make me sit in the house and relax all day. He won't like me partying either, but I'm entitled to... let loose once in a while," he shrugged, smiling to himself the instant he seemed to get an agreement from Ricky to attend the party. That invitation was all he really needed; how could he turn it down without being rude? Ergo, he had to go. He wasn't going to tell Maxwell about it, of course. It would cause an argument and he wanted to avoid that. It was much better to just... turn up after following his friend, so he couldn't do anything about it.

"I'm not that interesting. Like I said, I don't get out much," he repeated, laughing under his breath at just how much of an understatement that was. Nevertheless, he pressed forward a little to try and seem like he was interested - which he definitely was. The other could babble on about paint drying, and he'd find it intriguing. "...You're really nice, I think. Maxwell mentioned you but he never told me just how nice you were, I think you're great."
 
"Oh, really?" He replied with a raised brow and a small frown. He knew Maxwell was shy, it was pretty obvious when the boy seemed to stay very close to the gate of his home, chatting quietly to a few girls he had befriended in his literature class. Ricky had gone out of his way to introduce himself, immediately finding Maxwell both cute and interesting.

"That's unfortunate, though he does seem like the quiet type," he admitted, smiling when the waiter offered Milo the latte. He came from a place of wealth and he wasn't afraid to share it, so buying who he thought was Maxwell's cousin a drink wasn't anything major. Sipping on the coffee carefully, he scanned Milo's face.

"You may not look alike but you act alike," he noted absently. "You're both pretty cute, eh~? Got that whole bashful boy thing going on. What, is your family harsh on you two or something?" He teased with a chuckle. "I'm glad he sent you to see me, to be honest. You seem very sweet, Milo."
 
"...Our family weren't harsh on us, my parents were... fantastic. Maybe a little over protective, but they had their reasons. I don't think 'harsh' is the right word. Protective is probably the right one. Besides, I don't think I'm bashful. I'm... shy, maybe, not bashful," he shrugged, sipping at the latte curiously. He hadn't had coffee before, always sticking to milky teas full of sugar. Despite the milk in his coffee, he pulled a face at the strong taste - though continued to drink regardless. He didn't want to be rude, even if the taste really wasn't to his liking.

"You're handsome, I think. You have all the qualities that make you almost objectively handsome," he bluntly began, this being another example of his matter-of-fact manner of speaking. He didn't have any ulterior motive in complimenting him. He didn't really know what flirtation was, so his remarks, however flirty they seemed, were purely uttered by him because he thought it was factual. "I like your eyes, I think they're your best feature. They're a really nice colour."
 
"Wel aren't you a charmer?" He purred. "Unfortunately for you, I've already got my eye on someone. I'm sure you could find a girl in an instant. Now I do hope you wear something a bit nicer, if I'm going to be honest. I want you to make a good impression to everyone. After all, I wouldn't want people to be rude to you if this is the first time they meet you, yeah? I'm sure your cousin can help."

That was the first clue to why Maxwell was so particular before going out. While he wasn't made fun of directly, whispers weren't subtle amongst the party-goers about his outfit. If Ricky was going to have Maxwell, he needed the other to look nice. It was a primarily unspoken word, after all, that you had to at least look presentable before getting shitfaced. You could vomit all over your Louis Vuitton bag all you wanted, he didn't care, as long as you kept a good appearance.
 
"Why would I want to find a girl? There are loads of girls here, I don't need to waste time looking for one, do I? What would I even do with a girl? I get on with boys, I don't think I'd be very... interesting if a girl wanted to talk to me," the boy naively shrugged, frowning at the way the other seemed to respond. He hardly wanted to flirt, even if he knew what it was. Unaware that was how it was taken, the response only confused him, and brought on one of his infamous headaches.

"...My clothes are fine. Maxwell chose them for me. I like them. They're comfortable and that's all that matters. I... don't know what else I should wear, I think this is fine," he determined with a glance down at his comfy sweater. He did want to fit in, and apparently, these clothes weren't good enough. Maxwell himself had suggested he pick up something new for him so it wasn't like he'd be upsetting his feelings if he did opt for a new style. "...I could go shopping, if you think these are really... bad. I want to make a... good impression. What's cool, then? What clothes would... help me fit in? I'm not great at... fashion."
 
"That's evident," he murmured under his breath despite his smile. "First of all, wear proper pants. The sweaters are... fine, just don't look like you rolled out of bed and whatnot. You would look much better with just some cleaning up. That can happen over time, yeah? For now, just wear something nice. That isn't too hard, especially hen Max has improved so much since the first party himself. He's pretty much a pro~!"

Taking the final sip of the latte he drank, he set it down with a sigh before leaning back. "I hope you know that while I'm open to people coming, I won't accept anyone making a fool of me. If you mess up, you and your cousin can say goodbye to any reputation in this town."
 
"There's nothing wrong with how Maxwell dresses, I think he looks cute in those goofy sweaters," the alien began slowly, though this time, his naivety didn't mask anything. He was slowly becoming aware that Ricky was far from being as nice as he assumed; the unsubtle threat could hardly be ignored, after all. If there was one thing Milo didn't enjoy, it was being threatened. As much as he had loved Maxwell's parents, they did have the tendency of threatening him into submission and obedience. It was all with his best interest at heart, but he was told that he would be locked in the basement for weeks if he stepped outside. He had grown to resent that, and he assumed he had escaped threats when they died.

Apparently, he was grossly mistaken.

"...Are you so insecure that you rely completely on other people's perception of you to get happiness in life?" He began quietly, his friendly smile vanishing. "Let me tell you something. I'll come to the party and Maxwell will too, and we'll have fun, but if you dare say anything to judge him or hurt his feelings, I'll make sure your reputation is dragged through the mud. I want to be friendly, but I'm not going to tolerate fucking... threats from you. I'll see you later at the party, it should be fun, I think. I'll wear my sweater and my comfortable elasticated jeans, and you're not going to say a fucking word about it. Alright? Cool. See 'ya then."
 
"You? Ruin my reputation? You're a nobody from out of town without any friends outside of your cousin. I would take my invitation as an opportunity to improve rather than not only being an outcast, but fucking over your cousin, too," he replied casually with his notoriously smooth smile, choosing to lean back in the chair further instead of get up.

"Yes, well, it'll be interesting to see you tonight then, yeah?" He continued with a cheerful wave. Why should he care about this man? He was a complete stranger, utterly disposable. He didn't realize the other was an alien who could most likely kill him any moment, all he knew was that he wanted Milo to fail.
 
It didn't really hurt that he was having some stranger be this rude to him during his first interaction outside of his home. He knew that not everyone was going to be as nice as Maxwell. It was disappointing, rather than upsetting. What was upsetting, however, was knowing that this was someone Maxwell seemed to gush about. Either he didn't care that Ricky was a complete jerk, or he was unaware of it and instead taken in by the young man's good looks and charm.

He didn't really want to go out of his way to counter Ricky, either. He could take his words as a challenge and head out to find himself fancy clothing to charm everyone at the party with, but he wasn't particularly bothered about making that effort and using that much energy on winning some pathetic challenge. He was confident in his own style, and clothing, really, was irrelevant. People ought to like him for his personality, rather than what he chose to wear. He liked his clothes, and he wasn't bothered about turning up at a party dressed in a comfy sweater and the like. He was confident that, somehow, people would like him for how he was; that it would be seen as confident to go how he liked.

None of that mattered now, of course. There was hours before the party commenced, and until then, he had plenty of time to relax and act as though today was just another day. Getting home before Maxwell woke up wasn't a worry to him. He had seen how Maxwell was when he was hungover, and it was almost inevitable that he'd be asleep by the time he returned home. When he saw that he was, a smile grew on his face at how predictable his friend was.

"Maxwell? I brought you some tea," he began quietly as he slipped into the bedroom carrying the drink in Maxwell's favourite mug. "Come on, you can't sleep forever, you need something to drink and eat. You've slept for a good 40 minutes, time to get up."
 
"I've only slept for 40 minutes?" He murmured, his voice muffled by the pillow he had firmly pressed against his face. Letting out a groan in both disbelief and disappointment, he reluctantly sat up and rubbed the floaters from his eye. When presented with the tea, he looked up with a brief moment of hesitation. It was strange for him to be looked after and not the other way around.

"Ugh, thank you," he admitted with a small smile before taking in the tea. "I'd love to sleep for another hour, to be honest. I feel... better, but still like shit, to be honest. Are you okay?"
 
"Why wouldn't I be okay? I watched TV. I like watching the news. I had some toast. That was nice. I went out into the back garden to watch the birds and give them a few breadcrumbs. The usual morning routine. Why wouldn't I be okay? I'm not the hungover one who threw my guts up this morning," he pointed out as he sat on the edge of the bed, though for the briefest of moments, he did panic. The question caught him off guard, and it took him a few seconds to compose himself. He did consider for a moment that Maxwell somehow knew he had left the house, but when reassuring himself that there was no possible way he could know, he relaxed and let an easy smile pull at his lips.

"Get up and come watch TV with me. You should go to that party tonight, you said it's important for you to fit in. Forget about me. I want you to do what you need to do, if you feel like you should fit in with these people. I don't understand it, but I accept it, and I don't want you being here, missing out on golden opportunities like this. So get up and shake this hangover off."
 
"Okay, okay..." he murmured as he took another sip of tea. Unsurprisingly, Maxwell wasn't going to just spring to his feet after only 40 minutes of relaxing. Rubbing his face once again after the sip, he reluctantly got to his feet and shuffled to the living room.

"Are you sure? I'm fine just staying home with you if you want," he reminded with a small smile, though was at least thankful that the other understood somehow. "I know you've been feeling left out and I don't want you to, you know? You're my best friend and ... I'm sorry, you know?"
 
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