Post by Deleted on Jan 13, 2016 19:53:40 GMT
WORDS: 925 | TAGS: OPEN |
Spoiled. It was the word most often associated with the boy. Heartless was a close second, but he had debunked that theory after he’d forced his mother, at the age of eight, to take him for an x-ray or maybe just an EKG- he was in second grade, what was he to know, machines were machines- to make sure that there was an organ pumping blood through his veins after their maid had used the term for the sixth time to describe him. He may or may not have shoved his plate (of broccoli, hello, ew) on the floor. Again. She apparently wasn’t too keen on him doing such a thing. The test confirmed that yes, he did indeed have a heart, and there was a new woman sweeping up his tossed greens off the floor not a day later.
Some say bad temperament, blame his mother for babying him to this day still- which she would rebut that a boy without a dad needed to be coddled. Others summed it up to him being a rich brat. Hereditary in the business. That his dad was nearly worse. That this is what was meant to be expected of a child with a mother who was mindless of what it was meant to be just that. She wasn’t a maternal figure, she was wallet, tossing bills unto others to care for her son. Maid, nanny, butler- name the occupation, and they like spent a handful of hours babysitting the little brat. At least until he was caught snipping of the butler’s daughter’s pigtails because wasn’t she his toy? Wasn’t everything in their household his to play with? No rules, no discipline. His mother’s cure for his behavior? Spoil him further. She’d never been a figure in his life until that point, just someone who bought him whatever he begged for, someone who refused to let his grow up. Now, he had her undivided attention. After giving up on her search for a new suitor, her sights were set on pleasing her son. She was at his whim, something he got used to quickly.
Long story short, daddy was a big shot- don’t let the last name fool you, for as much as he wants to be associated with the business, he had no correlation to Mars Bars- in the oil industry. The man married a pretty blonde, had a kid, and then got himself killed in a skiing accident of all things. His son laughed at the thought of it for a week- it wasn’t like he really knew the man. Buried in the snow, skis sticking out of the damp white, kind of like drowning. Maybe that’s what it felt like for Jack in Titanic, cold and slow. He was four at the time, avoided the snow, but never could stop giggling as he asked if ‘daddy was an icicle like in Ice Age. His mother pulled back even further from her parental duties, dove into the dating pool- which she, too, drowned in. He grew up in charge, and liked it that way. Bossed around hisslaves workers as a child, and presently held the reins to his mother.
Theodore Mars, freshly turned eighteen and the new kid in Beacon Hills High. Not much of a change, he didn’t move. Kicked out of one school and tossed into another. He’d lived on the border of the quaint little towns all his life, so it wasn’t as if he was unfamiliar with Beacon Hills, just never liked it as much. The neighboring town was more prestigious, whereas this place? Podunk. Doesn’t matter, he’d have to get used to it- the other school wasn’t taking him back. Apparently they didn’t appreciate his opinions? Boo hoo, that girl should have had thicker skin- and better technique, with a mouth like that she would only bring in disappointment- but that’s a conversation for another time. Don’t get a blow job in a school bathroom and expect to not get caught whilst yelling at her to use less teeth. That’s why they said he got kicked out of school, but who was he kidding, they were just begging for a legitimate reason to get rid of him.
Well, they got it. And here he is.
Teddy glanced around the café he was in, nearly black eyes filled with scrutiny as he watched customers come and go. He’d have preferred Starbucks, but he’d settle- he wasn’t happy about it, though. Note that. He was nearly visibly pouting as he brought the drink to his lips- maybe he’d have mother build a Starbucks in the town, or maybe even in the mansion. Hm.
He sat primly near the window, dressed in nothing less than his best casual wear- designer jeans, and a deep red shirt with a little bird embroidered above his heart. Hollister. Mother said he looked unapproachable. That he didn’t have friends because he wouldn’t get anywhere with that sour look, but what was she to know? Theodore knew he was rather attractive, and assumed that made him intimidating. That’s it. Not unapproachable, but untouchable.
Or so he thought.
There was a cough to his left, someone beckoning his attention, and he figured he’d take pity and glance their way. An act of charity as he arched his brow rather than telling them to scram and leave him be.
Some say bad temperament, blame his mother for babying him to this day still- which she would rebut that a boy without a dad needed to be coddled. Others summed it up to him being a rich brat. Hereditary in the business. That his dad was nearly worse. That this is what was meant to be expected of a child with a mother who was mindless of what it was meant to be just that. She wasn’t a maternal figure, she was wallet, tossing bills unto others to care for her son. Maid, nanny, butler- name the occupation, and they like spent a handful of hours babysitting the little brat. At least until he was caught snipping of the butler’s daughter’s pigtails because wasn’t she his toy? Wasn’t everything in their household his to play with? No rules, no discipline. His mother’s cure for his behavior? Spoil him further. She’d never been a figure in his life until that point, just someone who bought him whatever he begged for, someone who refused to let his grow up. Now, he had her undivided attention. After giving up on her search for a new suitor, her sights were set on pleasing her son. She was at his whim, something he got used to quickly.
Long story short, daddy was a big shot- don’t let the last name fool you, for as much as he wants to be associated with the business, he had no correlation to Mars Bars- in the oil industry. The man married a pretty blonde, had a kid, and then got himself killed in a skiing accident of all things. His son laughed at the thought of it for a week- it wasn’t like he really knew the man. Buried in the snow, skis sticking out of the damp white, kind of like drowning. Maybe that’s what it felt like for Jack in Titanic, cold and slow. He was four at the time, avoided the snow, but never could stop giggling as he asked if ‘daddy was an icicle like in Ice Age. His mother pulled back even further from her parental duties, dove into the dating pool- which she, too, drowned in. He grew up in charge, and liked it that way. Bossed around his
Theodore Mars, freshly turned eighteen and the new kid in Beacon Hills High. Not much of a change, he didn’t move. Kicked out of one school and tossed into another. He’d lived on the border of the quaint little towns all his life, so it wasn’t as if he was unfamiliar with Beacon Hills, just never liked it as much. The neighboring town was more prestigious, whereas this place? Podunk. Doesn’t matter, he’d have to get used to it- the other school wasn’t taking him back. Apparently they didn’t appreciate his opinions? Boo hoo, that girl should have had thicker skin- and better technique, with a mouth like that she would only bring in disappointment- but that’s a conversation for another time. Don’t get a blow job in a school bathroom and expect to not get caught whilst yelling at her to use less teeth. That’s why they said he got kicked out of school, but who was he kidding, they were just begging for a legitimate reason to get rid of him.
Well, they got it. And here he is.
Teddy glanced around the café he was in, nearly black eyes filled with scrutiny as he watched customers come and go. He’d have preferred Starbucks, but he’d settle- he wasn’t happy about it, though. Note that. He was nearly visibly pouting as he brought the drink to his lips- maybe he’d have mother build a Starbucks in the town, or maybe even in the mansion. Hm.
He sat primly near the window, dressed in nothing less than his best casual wear- designer jeans, and a deep red shirt with a little bird embroidered above his heart. Hollister. Mother said he looked unapproachable. That he didn’t have friends because he wouldn’t get anywhere with that sour look, but what was she to know? Theodore knew he was rather attractive, and assumed that made him intimidating. That’s it. Not unapproachable, but untouchable.
Or so he thought.
There was a cough to his left, someone beckoning his attention, and he figured he’d take pity and glance their way. An act of charity as he arched his brow rather than telling them to scram and leave him be.