Your Scent

<div align=center>
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I'M STRUGGLING TO FIGURE OUT WHO I AM, CHAINED BY THIS FEAR INSIDE
and i'm being drawn to you.
● ● • • • ● ● ● • • • ● ● ● • • • ● ● ● • • • ● ●
<div style="text-align:justify; padding-top:0px; padding-bottom:0px; padding-left:15px; padding-right:15px; width: 380px; font-size: 11px; color: #000000;">

He… He couldn’t sleep. His mother had already fallen asleep a long time ago.
But, Brendon remained wide awake… his eyes open… as he stared out into the
hallway. The entire house was dark and quiet. He squeezed his covers more
tightly around him and shifted, restlessly, within the bed.



For a while, he couldn’t stop thinking about him. He couldn’t stop thinking about
Mr. Ardel. He couldn’t stop himself from recalling their meeting and the way he
had touched him. He couldn’t stop himself when he thought about him outside of
his bedroom window, beckoning him.



What did he want? Why was he… torturing him like this? Brendon finally closed
his eyes tightly and tried to banish thoughts of him from his mind. He didn’t want
to see him again, think of him, hear his voice, smell his scent…



He wasn’t going to do any of that anymore. He would just focus on his life with
his mother and what he had known and been familiar with for all of his sixteen
years. He stayed awake for hours, unfortunately. But, he refused to think of
anything. His mind was blank but wide awake. He couldn’t sleep.



He didn’t sleep. It felt like all night long. But, he must have eventually passed
out from sheer exhaustion… a couple of hours before sunrise. He found himself
being woken up by his mother and he felt disoriented, exhausted, and dizzy.



Brendon slowly picked himself up and flinched as she turned on the lights within
the room. They were bright. They were awful. He sat up on the bed… but
eventually gathered his sheet and pillow to place them back into his room.



He flicked on the light and walked forward to place his things down. Brendon
knew that he wasn’t here and that he hadn’t been here. He knew that he wasn’t
outside of the window waiting for him. Brendon stared at the window, but only
for a fleeting second, and then he turned and left his room. He turned the light
off on the way out and glanced toward his mother as she asked him how he was
feeling this morning.



He felt like he hadn’t slept at all. He felt awful, terrible. His eyes burned, like
they were dry and red. But, he didn’t tell her that. He told her that he was feeling
better.

</div> ● ● • • • ● ● ● • • • ● ● ● • • • ● ● ● • • • ● ● </div>

<div align=center>
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I'M STRUGGLING TO FIGURE OUT WHO I AM, CHAINED BY THIS FEAR INSIDE
and i'm being drawn to you.
● ● • • • ● ● ● • • • ● ● ● • • • ● ● ● • • • ● ●
<div style="text-align:justify; padding-top:0px; padding-bottom:0px; padding-left:15px; padding-right:15px; width: 380px; font-size: 11px; color: #000000;">

Brendon ate breakfast with his mother at their dining room table. He cleaned his
own dishes once he was done, dried them, and placed them back into the cabinets
in their designated areas. Afterward, he finally switched his laundry over. He
placed his robes and garbs into the dryer, nothing but the smell of the detergent
tingling his nose.



He started the dryer and walked away. His mother had plans for the two of them
to go back out to the marketplace within town once more. Because they had just
recently moved to Manta Carlos, they had quite a bit of shopping to do… in order
to get settled in.



Brendon retreated to his room to retrieve a new set of robes as well as his jewels.
He slowly closed his door behind him, no longer so antsy about the prospect of the
bookstore owner being outside at his window. He was frowning and stepped over
to his window to pull the curtains and keep them completely shut and blocked off.



It was the only window in his entire bedroom. With it blocked off, he felt infinitely
more secure… and he didn’t hesitate to begin undressing from his sleepwear. He
slipped on his robes as well as his many jewels. He brushed his hair, while using
the mirror atop his dresser.



And then he exited his bedroom. Although, he paused… and glanced toward the
bathroom. He needed to use the restroom… but he was reluctant. That man had
used it last night and he was afraid of smelling… him. He chose not to. He
needed to use the washroom, but he avoided it and instead moved further down
the hall and to the living room to wait for his mother.



He was sure he was being too careful and that there was no linger scent left. But,
he would rather wait to use the restroom when he and his mother was out. And,
he was certain that any, if at all, lingering scent… would be gone by later today.

</div> ● ● • • • ● ● ● • • • ● ● ● • • • ● ● ● • • • ● ● </div>

<div align=center>
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I'M STRUGGLING TO FIGURE OUT WHO I AM, CHAINED BY THIS FEAR INSIDE
and i'm being drawn to you.
● ● • • • ● ● ● • • • ● ● ● • • • ● ● ● • • • ● ●
<div style="text-align:justify; padding-top:0px; padding-bottom:0px; padding-left:15px; padding-right:15px; width: 380px; font-size: 11px; color: #000000;">

His mother held his hand as she lead him through the somewhat crowded
marketplace of Manta Carlos. Brendon’s gaze was downcast and he had barely
said anything to his mother since being awoken this morning. They had shared
very little conversation…



She had been unusually silent, perhaps sensing his odd mood. He wondered if
she was being affected by it. P…Probably. He was being a bad son once again.
He shouldn’t be so quiet… He shouldn’t make his mother upset by his mood…



“I’m sorry, mother… for being so quiet,” He told her softly… though his gaze was
still downcast.



“It’s all right, sweetie,” She returned softly, smiling sadly down at him with
concern. “You said you were feeling better today, but I have the feeling that
wasn’t entirely true.”



“I… I’m able to accompany you for our errands, though,” He told her and glanced
up toward her. He… He didn’t want to be a burden. No, he couldn’t be a
burden. There was nothing wrong with him. There was absolutely, positively,
nothing wrong with him.



He managed a small smile and tried to keep his gaze leveled in front of him,
instead of directed toward the ground.

</div> ● ● • • • ● ● ● • • • ● ● ● • • • ● ● ● • • • ● ● </div>

<div align=center>
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I'M STRUGGLING TO FIGURE OUT WHO I AM, CHAINED BY THIS FEAR INSIDE
and i'm being drawn to you.
● ● • • • ● ● ● • • • ● ● ● • • • ● ● ● • • • ● ●
<div style="text-align:justify; padding-top:0px; padding-bottom:0px; padding-left:15px; padding-right:15px; width: 380px; font-size: 11px; color: #000000;">

After lunch the two of them cleaned their dishes and then headed back to the
dining room where his mother set up everything he would need for his studies.
Brendon slowly sat down within his chair as his mother brought one of the
textbooks. His heart immediately skipped a beat… and he could feel himself
tensing… as the scent reached him.



It was subtle, but it was there. Brendon glanced away from the book and,
instead, stared down at the spiral notebook he had before him. He poised his
pencil and impatiently waited for everything to begin. He didn’t want that smell
here… He didn’t want it to be present. He didn’t want to smell him…



“All right, so let’s see…,” His mother began and opened the mathematical study
book. She began to browse the table of contents and see where they needed to
begin. She was smart and taught him everything. She seemed to understand
everything.



Brendon was tense within his chair, the scent bothering him. His gaze lowered
toward the book… and he struggled with himself. He struggled, internally, with
what he was feeling.



His mother found the chapter they would begin on… and immediately began
reading it aloud to him. She explained everything and Brendon tried to preoccupy
himself with listening, with learning. But, he was struggling. He was struggling on
concentrating. He placed his forehead against his hand as he struggled… needing
things to be explained to him more than what was needed.



His mother had to repeat herself… quite a few times. He struggled but he
managed, writing down things onto his notebook. He answered questions aloud
and on paper. He did the math, he explained it. But, still, he struggled.

</div> ● ● • • • ● ● ● • • • ● ● ● • • • ● ● ● • • • ● ● </div>

<div align=center>
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I'M STRUGGLING TO FIGURE OUT WHO I AM, CHAINED BY THIS FEAR INSIDE
and i'm being drawn to you.
● ● • • • ● ● ● • • • ● ● ● • • • ● ● ● • • • ● ●
<div style="text-align:justify; padding-top:0px; padding-bottom:0px; padding-left:15px; padding-right:15px; width: 380px; font-size: 11px; color: #000000;">

“Brendon, are your senses bothering you?” His mother ended up asking him with
concern at a point within their study. Brendon glanced up from his notebook to
stare at her and she smiled at him with patience. “You’re going through puberty,
so it is only natural.”



“M-Mother,” Brendon mumbled out, immediately feeling a flush of embarrassment
as she talked so openly with him about his transition through ‘puberty’. She had
spoken to him before as well.



“I know it is embarrassing for you. But, I am wondering if that is what’s bothering
you.”



Brendon’s gaze unconsciously lowered to the book laid out on the table. He could
easily recall everything else he had done that had revolved around that man’s
scent. His mother must have… noticed… and had began to assume that his nose
was bothering him. He supposed it was, in a sense.



“I am feeling a little more sensitive,” He told her softly.



“Does Mr. Ardel’s scent bother you?”



Brendon’s heart skipped a beat, his cheeks darkened, and his eyes widened. For
a moment, he forgot to breathe… a-and then he quickly pulled his gaze down and
away from his mother.



“It’s all right if it does, honey. It doesn’t mean anything,” She reassured him.
“He has a strong scent.”



Brendon… continued to stare down at the tabletop… in disbelief that the subject of
that man had still somehow been brought up…



“It… It does…,” He admitted to her. “It’s… strong.”



“It’s natural, sweetie,” She told him and reached forward to sift her fingers through
his hair in what was meant to be soothing. It was supposed to be, but Brendon
was tense… and keeping his mind away from that man, from his smell… from the
things that had happened between them.



“I… I’d like to take a bath, if that is all right, mother,” He requested softly… and
she agreed right away, telling him that they could continue with the lesson after
his break.



“I’ll help mask the scent of the books,” She offered sweetly and gave him a smile.



Brendon hesitated… his gaze riveted on the book. Slowly, he glanced over toward
the rest. He could feel an emotion building up within him, but he blocked it. He
forced it away without recognizing or acknowledging it… and moved to go and take
his bath.



He entered the bathroom and closed the door behind him. And then he began to
take off each and every article of clothing. He carefully removed his necklace and
his bracelets. He removed his two rings and neatly folded and stacked everything
on the sink counter.



He added a soft and light fragrance to his hot bath and let the bathtub fill with the
scented water. Brendon glanced up and toward the two large windows and… and
yearned for the fresh air. He wanted everything to fill his senses… the fresh air,
the light bath fragrance. He wanted the crisp, fresh, air of autumn.



He didn’t care that it was in the middle of the day, that the sun was still out. The
back of their house out looked a large forest with no neighbors behind them. He
stepped into the bath and began to open the windows… noticing that they weren’t
latched. Immediately, a breeze blew into the room, blew against him and ruffled
his hair. He took in a slow and deep breath… and then sat down… He folded his
arms against the windowsill… and placed his chin down upon them… his gaze
looking out past his backyard.

</div> ● ● • • • ● ● ● • • • ● ● ● • • • ● ● ● • • • ● ● </div>