Major Tom (Völlig losgelöst)

"Major Tom (Völlig losgelöst)" - Peter Schilling

🎵 Dann hebt er ab und / Völlig losgelöst von der Erde / Schwebt das Raumschiff schwerelos /Völlig losgelöst von der Erde / Schwebt das Raumschiff völlig schwerelos / Los 🎵

[Max, Age 11]

"But it's just a sweet sweet fantasy Baby! / When I close my eyes / You come and you take me!" I belted out at the top of my lungs as I tried my best to copy the YouTube video that played on my laptop.

On the tiny screen was some lady who wore dark purple spandex, and she was giving an online class for women to take so that they can get down in the club and attract a man. Now I know that I have nine more years until I go to the club and drink; I'm just prepping!

To up the ante, I even snatched some of Emilia's hair extensions and sloppily applied them to my own hair so that I could try to master the illusive hair flip that I've seen people do on TV— it always gets a man's attention. However, my hair is dark brown, whereas Emilia's is blonde, so they didn't exactly blend in. Still, I need the practice or else I'll be forever alone.

I'm just content that I'm all alone in the apartment as I practiced my moves so that no one could see me. I just pretended that the odd wolf plush Dominik had gotten me was my audience, and I tried to look totally sexy as I danced for it, pretending that my lonely bedroom was a jam-packed club.

The lady in the video did this one move where she coyly looked over her shoulder and smiled at the camera (who was supposed to be the guy she was seducing), and she shook her ass.

I tried to mimic her moves by shaking my booty as best as I could, even flailing my arms wildly around to get a better rhythm. Since it was hot outside and British Columbia was not known for its spectacular A/C units, I wore an oversized t-shirt and some basketball shorts. They were nowhere near as revealing as the lady in the video's, but they got the point across: That I was on the hunt for a man!

...but once I get one, I have no clue what to do. I dunno! Maybe we'll play Pokémon or I can ask him to buy me a Frosty from Wendy's. Whatever we do together, it's gotta be a million times better than spending the whole ass summer all alone!

The woman did a twirl, ending it with a seductive bend in which she flipped her hair around.

"It's so deep in my daydreams— son of a bitch!" I cried out.

I'd tried to copy the lady's moves by spinning around and bending down low while flipping my hair... only to bend down too close to my desk and smacking my forehead right on the corner of it.

The first thing I noticed, aside from the stars that shot straight into my vision, was the blinding pain that radiated all over my face. I felt as if I'd just gotten punched right in the forehead— but in reality, I'd injured myself by trying to be sexy! Damn it! I'm telling people that some robber tried to break in, but I totally fought them off! There's no way I'm going to tell Mom, Dad, or Emilia that I'd gotten hurt because I had way too much rizz!

"Oh my God!" I panicked as soon as I felt the blood starting to trickle out the cut in my forehead and down onto the (expensive) carpet.

Since Mom's a surgeon, I knew a little bit about medical stuff, so I knew that the head bleeds a lot. Like, A LOT a lot. Sure enough, my cut bled like crazy, my dark red blood running out like a leaky faucet. I immediately slapped my hand against my aching forehead, wincing at the throb that it caused, but still trying not to bleed all over the damn apartment. Of course I was concerned about my cut forehead, but I was also panicking over the look on my mom's face if I get my blood all over these white carpets!

"Fuck, what do I do?!" I hissed to myself, grabbing one of my t-shirts out of my dresser and holding it up to my cut as if I could apply pressure like what I've seen injured people do on TV.

However, no matter how hard or long I kept the t-shirt pressed against my head, my cut still bled whenever I pulled it away. I could feel the panic starting to course through my veins and my heart starting to beat faster, which only made my cut bleed all the more.

"I'm gonna die," I groaned. Truly and honestly, this was it. I was going to bleed out and be left some lonely, pale husk of a young man for my family to stumble upon whenever they remember that I exist... that, or my mom will straight up murder me for staining her carpet with my blood.

Man, I hope I bleed out before she finds me.

Either way, what a sad funeral mine will be. I highly doubt anyone will even bother to show up. Emilia will be busy, Mom will be working, Kyle will be Kyle, and Dad will be too enamored with Alaric. Shit, if I had the money, I'd actually bet that of all the people in the whole wide world, Dominik would be the only one in attendance.

And he'd only come to laugh, or call me a bitch in German. Speaking of... Google says it's "Zicke".

Before I could look up more German curse words to save for later, there was loud knock at the front door. The sudden noise startled me out of my daze, and with my bloodied t-shirt still on my forehead, I poked my injured head out of my bedroom.

"Wh-who is it?" I called out, my voice shaking a little bit. I just hope that it wasn't Mom who'd just forgotten her key (I don't want her to see the mess I'd created).

"Ambulance!" some random man's voice answered from the other side of the door.

"What?!" I gasped.

On the ambulance ride to the hospital, the EMT explained to me that some mysterious caller had dialed up the emergency number and informed them that, quote: "My boy is dying!" No idea who'd called...

A total mystery.

Either way, I wound up getting some cool liquid stitches on my forehead so that it wouldn't scar up all gnarly-like. And my mom was only a little mad about the drops of dark red blood on her expensive, white carpet. When she'd asked what had happened, I'd spun her a tale about some crazy intruder who'd broken in and hit me over the head with a sledgehammer. However, they'd immediately gotten scared when I'd shown off my karate moves that I'd learned on TV, so they'd fled like a chicken.

She didn't buy it.

Still, I couldn't help but wonder just who'd called 911 for me. I'd been the only one in the apartment at the time of my injury. Therefore, only I was in the know. I mean, it was in the afternoon, so our neighbors couldn't have heard since they'd been at work, and our windows were tinted so it wasn't like someone in the building next over had seen.

I couldn't figure it out.

★······★

[Max, Age 12]

I stared blankly at the textbook in front of me, trying with all of my might not to lose my cool over a little bit of math; but damn it, it's hard! I grit my teeth in frustration, finding a sliver of relief in the fact that summer was almost here.

Speaking of the summer, Emilia was graduating high school this year and she had plans to move to Toronto. Therefore, Dad was flying out to come see the graduation ceremony; that means that I won't be forced to fly to Germany for three months because he'll be here instead for a couple weeks. It sounded like a fair deal in my mind. Better yet was that Alaric and Dominik wouldn't be coming because of some problem with their passports...? I think that's what Dad had said; in fact, he'd sounded a little scatterbrained when he'd explained their impending absence. Truth be told, I couldn't care less that they wouldn't be here and neither could Emilia.

I was trying not to force myself to childishly think up happy scenarios for when Dad gets here to Canada. The old me would've been over the moon and would already have a long To-Do list prepared for when his plane lands. I would've planned on dragging him all around Vancouver, acting like an excited little kid who was just happy that his father was back.

But not the new and improved Max. Nope.

I plan on matching his energy: something that I've heard the upperclassmen say is the best thing to do when having a disagreement with a loved one.

If Dad doesn't want to hang out with me, then I don't want to hang out with him.

Sighing loudly, I searched around my bedroom for anything that could help distract me from stupid math and my thoughts. My eyes landed on the stuffed wolf that a certain jerk had gotten me two years ago. Hmm, I should've thrown it out. Yet, I couldn't bring myself for some unknown reason.

Instead, I grabbed it and played with its arms a little bit, deepening my voice as I childishly made it say, "Math sucks butt."

"For real," I replied in my normal voice, giggling a little.

A loud bang interrupted my thoughts, making me flinch at my desk.

There was rattle that sounded like glass and dishes being broken, which was then followed by a stomach churning thud. It was so loud that it sent a vibration through the apartment; and before I knew it, I shot out of my seat and scurried out of my room to head down the hall.

"Emilia?" I called out since I knew that Mom would still be in Ottawa for a weekend business trip and she took Kyle with her.

I hurried down the hallway, turning the corner into the kitchen where the sound had originated from. I'd been in such a hurry to check on my sister, that it took me a second to realize that I still clutched the wolf plushie from Dominik in my hands. I was about to ask what all the ruckus was when I froze in my steps, staring wide-eyed into the tense room.

Emilia and her boyfriend, Patrick, stood in the middle of the kitchen, closer to the sink. A shattered plate was on the floor, white pieces of porcelain scattered across the hardwood.

Patrick looked like he was angry for some reason, his mighty chest heaving as he breathed heavily through flared nostrils. Both of his hands were clenched into fists, and his lips were pursed into a thin line.

Meanwhile, Emilia held one of her manicured hands up to her left cheek, her skin there looking almost as red as her nail polish. A slight protrusion was already forming on her face that she tried to hide underneath her shaking hand; and when her eyes glanced towards me, I could see that they were tinged red and her mascara had started to run a little bit.

Her face paled when she saw me, but then her thin eyebrows scrunched downwards.

"What the fuck are you looking at?" she huffed, her voice breaking as she pushed her way past me, exiting the kitchen. Her footsteps traveled down the hallway, still managing to sound as light and angelic as ever. Based on the fact that there was a loud click indicating a lock, the washroom door slammed shut. The muffled sounds of my sister's sobs echoed out in the apartment, and I could feel my own throat grow dry in tandem.

I looked over at Patrick, who stood awkwardly by the sink. His broad, lacrosse player shoulders fell and he had the decency to look ashamed.

He held his hands out in front of himself, chuckling a little bit, but his own eyes looked pained too. "You know I love Emilia, right?" he asked, his brown eyes laser focusing in on me, sending a shiver down my spine. He offered a small smile, but his eyes seemed to be worried and calculating.

I was at a loss for words.

Emilia seemed to be completely smitten with Patrick, and she would constantly gush over the guy, acting as if they were North America's Supreme Power Couple. No one could touch them! It didn't take a rocket scientist to extrapolate what had gone down here; and Patrick definitely knew that I knew, which was why he seemed to be trying to be all buddy-buddy with me now, whereas he usually ignored me.

"Right, Max?" he asked again, his creepy smile dominating the lower half of his face, showing off his yellowing teeth.

I love my sister way more than I love myself, and I look up to her with loads of admiration. She's always been there for me, and she's the one who's helped me realize that the best career choice for me is "Diva". Therefore, I tried my best to square my thin shoulders.

"Get out of my apartment," I muttered, my voice coming out as a pathetic squeak. And I don't know why I added the next part, but it came out almost instinctual, as if my inner self truly believed that it was gospel: "I'll call my stepbrother, and he'll kick your ass."

Ugh, even I cringed at what I said and I could already envision Dominik rolling his eyes at me for using him as a threat.

Sure Patrick was older and he played lacrosse like a monster, but Dominik was way taller and much more muscular than him. There was zero doubt in my panicked mind that, if he were here, Dominik would totally dominate Patrick, and even manage to rip his throat out with his sharp vampire-like teeth. That had to be the reasoning behind my mysterious desire for him to be around in this moment: Dominik is scary looking and could make Patrick crap his pants with one glare!

But that's foolish.

I'm all the way in Canada, while Dominik is safe at home in Germany, thousands of kilometers away from us. That, and I'm pretty sure he's busy cursing my name for blocking his number, not giving too shits if Emilia was in danger. Well that, and Emilia and him had never really seemed to have gotten along. Therefore, I didn't really think that Dominik would rush over to BC to protect her.

And Patrick knew that too, based on the smirk that formed on his creepy face. "Oh?" he snorted. "You're using that freak all the way back in Germany to threaten me?"

I just nodded, unsure of what to say or do.

Again, Patrick snorted, but instead of challenging me some more, the coward backed down. His shoulders relaxed slightly and he began to lumber over towards the exit that I stood by.

"Whatever," he spat, like literally.

The guy hocked a loogie at me. The sticky spit landed right on my forehead, and it dripped down towards my eye, getting caught in my eyelashes. The mucous that was in it made it all stringy, stretching it out as it drooped on its way down to the floor.

I was stunned silent, trying my best not to throw up as Patrick roughly shoved his way past me, making me stumble.

The front door slammed as Patrick left, and I scurried over to do the bolt and chain as a precaution. After washing my face at the sink, I dashed to the washroom to check on my sister.

Her sobbing had quieted down a little bit, and I knocked lightly on the door. "E-Emilia?" I asked, my voice low and quiet. "Are you okay?"

I could hear my sister clearing her throat. "Yeah, I'm fine," she said, her voice sounding as if everything were A-okay. "Why? What's up?"

I didn't want to stress her out anymore than she already was, therefore, I just muttered, "I'm just checking."

She was quiet for a little bit and I could hear her feet shuffling around, accompanied by the clacking of her makeup palettes. "Everything's fine," she coughed, refusing to leave the washroom for the rest of the night.

Three days later, Patrick had his whole ass face bitten off by some random animal during one of his jogs in the park. Emilia was sad, sure, but even I noticed the way her shoulders relaxed by a teeny fraction when Mom had sat her down and had broken the news.

★······★

[Max, Age 13]

"Aww man," I whined as I was outbid on eBay. Slumping my head down onto my desk, I felt as if I'd be resigned to failure.

I'd been trying for two weeks to get my hands on an autographed poster of Mariah Carey's album cover of Butterfly, in which my queen had written her signature response whenever someone mentions J-Lo: "I don't know her" on it, followed by "Love, Mimi".

I'd spotted it a few weeks ago when I'd been mindlessly scrolling the Internet for something to bide my time with during my summer all alone in my bedroom. The mere second my eyes had landed on this gem, I'd finally felt a tinge of excitement in my heart, and I'd begged Mom for the CA$300 to pay for the poster and the shipping fee. She'd, of course, refused. Hence, I'd busted my ass for days on end doing extra chores around the apartment and even asking my neighbors if they'd needed any help with legit anything around their house for some money. I'd helped tutor one of the neighborhood boys in French (I don't know a single bit of French, but I'd made sure to collect the money upfront), I'd washed some dude's car, and I had even patched up some old lady's jeans. After combining that hard-earned money with my life savings, I'd managed to have just enough for the elusive autographed Mariah Carey poster—

Just to be outbid by some jerk ass with the username Leitwolf69!

What a bitch! There's no way on earth that they're a bigger Lamb than me! I know everything there is to know about Mariah Carey and I can sing every single song of hers with expert precision! I deserve that poster!

I've spent the last two weeks, the last two three-hundred thirty-six hours bidding for the poster with the money I'd poured my blood, sweat, and numerous tears into earning. All for it to be taken away from me at the last second by someone who outbid me by a dollar!

Why does my life suck so much ass?!

I'll never get over this. I swear, I'll be on my deathbed and my great-grandchildren will ask me what my biggest regret in life was. And I'll tell them with full, one-hundred percent certainly that my number one regret in life was not making the largest bid on the autographed poster of Mariah Carey's Butterfly album. And then they'll pull the plug as a mercy kill.

The following week, I was still steaming over the worst day of my life as I angrily ate a bowl of Cheerios. I scowled at the not-so-sweet loops on my spoon when Mom tossed a tube-shaped package onto the kitchen table.

"This came for you," she said as she headed out the front door to work.

I snapped out of my frustrated funk, only to examine the package in confusion. I didn't remember (successfully) ordering anything. Yet, my name was on the shipping label and it looked like the package came all the way from Los Angeles, California. Cocking my eyebrow, I opened up one end of the tube and slid out the rolled up piece of paper that was inside.

My gasp was so loud that it nearly sucked in all of the oxygen out of my apartment the second I realized just exactly what was inside the package.

My eyes nearly fell out of my skull as soon as they landed on the pristine face of Mariah Carey on the cover of her Butterfly album, with "I don't know her. Love, Mimi" scrawled across the bottom of it in black marker.

"HOLY FUCKING SHIT!" I practically screamed as I held the world's greatest treasure in my tiny hands.

I sprinted into my bedroom to immediately search for a place to hang up this bitchin' poster. My smile was plastered all over my face, and there was a much missed pep in my step as I skipped giggly around my small bedroom. This was the best day ever... wait.

How did I get this poster in the first place?

I mean, the money that I'd intended to spend on it was still in my account so I know that I didn't win a secondary bid or anything. And Leitwolf69, whoever that was, had won the bidding war. Therefore, the poster wasn't supposed to come my way. I'm not complaining whatsoever, but I'm trying to make sense of it.

Then again, I shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth.

I shrugged my shoulders and hung up the poster on my wall across from the large window overlooking the rest of the city. Perfect! I don't know who bought this for me, but I owe them big time!

★······★

[Max, Age 14]

I'm tired.

I don't think it was my face, because I made sure to scrub at it diligently with acne wash so much that my skin would get raw. I had no acne, so at least people weren't turned off by my face.

I don't think it was my smell, because I'd purchased some of the more pricier deodorant. It was the kind where the commercials have scores of thirsty women chasing the wearer down the street. No one chased me when I wore it, but at least I smelt decent.

I don't think it was my body, because I'd made sure to cut out a majority of carbs from my diet like what the magazines say. Mom's Cosmo that she keeps on the coffee table in the living room said that the best way to attract a man was to lose lumps. I lost some weight and now my ribs show noticeably— so no lumps, and I still didn't have anyone asking to be my boyfriend.

I don't think it was my hair, because I began to allow it to grow out so that I could do all sorts of fun stuff with it, *wink. Plus, I even made sure to use loads of conditioner and fancy products so that it was shiny and soft to the touch, and not all greasy and tangly like most guys' whenever they grow out their hair. Unfortunately, despite all of my hard work, there wasn't a single man asking if he could tug on it. Damn...

I don't think it was my clothes, because I'd gotten some side jobs here and there since Mom graciously had signed off the request form for me to get a work permit. British Columbia allows fourteen year olds to do "light work", hence I'd managed to score a sweet gig at the movie theatre down the block from the apartment where I worked the concession stand. It wasn't too bad of a job and it came with the awesome benefit of letting me watch movies for free (by myself, *sigh). To circle back, I worked my butt off to get some money which I would immediately spend at the mall on the most expensive, most in-style clothes that I could afford with my minimum wage paycheck. I didn't have to pay bills, so I was actually able to buy some really nice clothes that made me look really handsome and cute. Yet, no one even bothered to look at me over their shoulder as I passed them by on the sidewalk.

I don't think it was my personality. Sure, I'm a nerd who loves museums and knows tons of animal facts. And yeah, I suppose I wasn't the most out-going person and some people may even classify me as "Shy". However, I made sure to be as polite as possible at all times and to try my best to take an interest in other guys' hobbies, but all to no avail. Shoot, I'd even begun to emulate Emilia because she's an expert when it comes to getting dates. However, whereas she could get away with giggling and saying a dude's shirt looked stupid, all I get is a disgusted look whenever I try it.

I don't know what else I can do.

Sighing loudly, I glanced in the mirror that was in my bedroom. It was starting to get colder outside, so I was wearing some nice-fitting skinny jeans that made my butt pop and look nice and round. I paired this with a bright red sweater that was small enough to make my torso look slender, yet a little baggy at the bottom. To top this off, I wore my Calvin Klein peacoat that I'd bought at Macy's last week. My dark hair was in a messy man bun that looked like I'd taken a few minutes to style it by ruffling it up, when in actuality, I'd spend an agonizing hour getting everything perfect so that there were no major fly-aways.

Looking at myself in the mirror, I frowned. "Ugh," I grunted, already knowing that I wouldn't attract any attention whatsoever.

I've spent the past few years all by myself, with that annoying hole in my chest a constant presence— so much so that I barely noticed it anymore. It was regular sensation that I experienced every second of the day, every day of the year. Suffice to say, and at the risk of sounding emo: I'm used to it at this point.

That's not to say that I'll put up with it for the rest of my miserable life, no. I long to find someone to be with. I'd believed that my family would help shoo that painful loneliness away. They didn't. I'd believed that I could just find some friend at school who could help solve the monotony of solitude. I didn't.

Therefore, I knew what the next step in line is.

"I need to find a man," I audibly declared to no one as I stood in my bedroom.

Yeah. A man will solve all of my problems in one fell swoop! Well, let me clarify: A man who totally wants my nuts.

That'd be amazing. But where on earth am I supposed to find a guy who's willing to wait on me hand and foot and never want to leave my side? Guys like that don't exist, or at least not for me.

I looked at the time on my phone and groaned loudly, knowing that it was time for me to head to school. If I didn't leave soon, I'd miss my bus. Dragging my feet towards the front door, I froze once I opened it.

"Huh?" I wondered aloud as I saw the bouquet of a dozen red roses that were laying on the ground right in the entryway.

Pale purple cellophane was delicately wrapped around twelve long stem red roses that had each had their thorns trimmed. Baby's breath was scattered around the bouquet to add a pop of color and to fill it out some more. Securing the purple plastic around the flowers was a white ribbon which was tied into a big, loopy knot in the front.

A small white card was sticking out of the flowers, attached to a clear plastic stand. On it was typed: I love you. -D.

I jerked back and cocked my eyebrow at the card as I read it over and over. D? Who the hell was D?

It didn't take a rocket scientist to deduce that this beautiful, romantic bouquet was meant for my mom. Emilia had moved out a couple years ago and there was no way someone would ever waste their money getting me some gorgeous flowers as a cute gesture, unfortunately. That being said, who was D? My mom was dating Kyle, and she had been since I was little. Shoot, if she had a side guy who was sending her flowers, then she was messing with trouble.

That's none of my business though. I do not want to get involved in Mom and Kyle's drama. Hence, I placed the flowers on the counter and rinsed my hands of them, walking out the door and heading to school.

★······★

[Max, Age 15]

"Hmmm..." I hummed as I stared at my laptop, deep in thought. This was a matter of life or death, after all. The choices that I make now could forever change the direction that my sad, pathetic, and sometimes fabulous life could take.

On my laptop screen was the Dream Man quiz which was meant to help me determine what sort of guy would fulfill every single one of my fantasies and help me to never ever feel all alone again. I mean, logic dictates that if I take this test earnestly and apply some true introspection, then I could potentially unlock the confines of my desires. Then I can actually go out and look for a man. I mean, I've been on the market for quite some time now. Yet, no one seemed to be interested. Therefore, if I could narrow down my search and look for something a little more fine tuned to what I actually wanted as opposed to being available to anyone who'd be willing, then perhaps I could actually gain some traction on my search. Plus, this one was specifically catered to guy x guy relationships, so it was already tailor made for me (sort of)!

With that in mind, I leaned forward in my chair and read each and every question aloud so that I could mull over them. I'd been in the middle of cleaning my room when the pop-up for this quiz had flashed upon my screen; and I'd been wiping down the shelf that I stored most of my stuffed animals that I've kept through the years. Since I'd been interrupted, my desk was cluttered with plushie bunnies, Pokémon, and that wolf that Dominik had bought me all those years ago. In fact, it was kind of funny how the wolf stuffed animal still sat upright facing my laptop, almost as if it were reading along with me.

1). How would you prefer your man to be?

A. A daddy dom top

B. A friendly vers

C. A submissive who could go either way for you

D. A sassy bottom

Y'know what? I can honestly say that I haven't really given positions too much thought. On the other hand, I'm not one-hundred percent delusional: I am well aware that I am not entirely traditionally masc. If some random on the street were to take one look at me while I was wearing my skinny jeans, my Sanrio long-sleeved shirt, and my long hair in a messy man bun, then there'd be no doubt in their judgmental brain that I was the one who took it up the butt.

...and they'd be correct. Damn it.

I don't want to play into stereotypes, but I'd be lying if I'd said that the idea of some sexy stud just going ham on me in the bed wasn't a neat thought. Therefore, did I want said man to be all dominant like he owns me, or do I want him to be all sweet and sugary?

Giggling to myself, I clicked A.

2). What's a must-have in your man's wardrobe?

A. A leather jacket

B. Booty shorts

C. A Thong

D. A Tux

Who would wear a tuxedo around all the time? That's just cringey.

I looked in the mirror and figured that I was a little more on the posh side. I mean, yes, if I were a Spice Girl, I would be Posh Spice. After all, I do spend most of my money on the best designer brands that I can afford just so that I can make a statement. And sure, it'd be nice if my man would take pride in himself too.

However, deep down, even I know that I wear Calvin Klein and Gucci just because I'd hoped that they'd garner me some friends. They didn't, but damn at least I look good all by myself.

Shrugging, I clicked A again. There's something about a guy in a leather jacket that is hot.

3). What's the perfect date that your man can take you on?

A. Classic dinner and a movie

B. Beach Date

C. A quiet night at home

D. Carnival

I immediately clicked on B. Going to the beach has always been a favorite pastime of mine, and I can't think of a single beach trip that ever ended in disaster.

4). What's your man's personality type?

A. The loud, bubbly one who makes everyone laugh

B. The smart, nerdy one who always knows a fun fact

C. The brooding artist who enjoys deep conversations

D. The bad boy with a soft spot only for his darling

Oh it's not even a contest. I clicked on D in a heartbeat because that's my most favorite trope in anime ever! There's nothing that makes me swoon faster than some rough and tough bad boy who everyone's afraid of, yet he acts like a total sweetheart with his number one.

Hella cute.

5). Who do you bank with?

A. The National Bank

B. CIBC

C. Royal Bank

D. Other (Please type in the box)

Well I bank with Royal Bank, mainly because it sounds fancy. I hovered the cursor over C but then froze.

Why was this quiz for a dream man asking for my banking information? And my account number?

I frowned and then exited out of the browser as soon as I put two and two together. What a load of shit. Here I thought that I'd stumbled upon something that would act as a treasure map so that I could potentially find the man of my dreams and never be lonely again. I should've known better though.

I mean, where on earth am I supposed to find a bad boy who only loves his darling, who wears a leather jacket, and who will take his darling to the beach? Oh, and he's a daddy dom top too.

Yeah right. That guy doesn't exist...

★······★

[Max, Age 16]

"Maxie!" Mom called from the living room, and I could hear Kyle muttering in the background.

"What?" I yelled out, pausing the YouTube video on the Citric Acid Cycle that I was watching. God help me, I just do not understand ATP whatsoever.

"Don't 'What?' me! Come here!" Mom barked, making me sprint away from my desk as fast a humanly possible. Based off the shrillness of her voice, something was bothering her.

Now I knew that it couldn't have been something that I've done. I mean, I'm an A-average student so I knew that she couldn't be mad about my grades, or really about school in any form. Plus, I was still a loner, therefore, there was no way she'd want to grill me regarding the people I surround myself with. And I still didn't have a man, so it couldn't be the sex talk. Besides, we'd already watched the video on how to do it in Health Sciences. There wasn't a gay section of the class, but I can (and have) looked online on how men can do it with each other. I wasn't an expert since I'm still a virgin, but that can be fixed soon!

I'm willing to give it a shot. I just need to find a partner. It just so happened that no one on Earth seemed to be lining up to ride the Max Estrada Experience©!

Shoot, instead of the fabulous and love-filled teenage life that many people seem to be having on those Netflix shows, my teen years were filled to the brim with nothing but homework, side work, and being the president and only member of my high school's Bunny Club. It was a club in which members (of just myself) went and volunteered at the Vancouver Rabbit Rescue. There, I would help clean up the cages, feed the rabbits, and play with them for a few hours until closing. The Bunny Club may not have garnered me any friends, but every club got its own page in the yearbook; and sure enough, I got to have my own page all to myself (which was meant for a group shot of all club members... but yeah). In the hopes of attracting more members, I'd decided to take the cutesy route by wearing a pair of bunny ears and posing with the Rescue's grey Flemish Giant named Stacey. I'd thought that it was hella cute picture, and I'd even photocopied it and had mailed it to Dad.

Dad had told me that he'd never gotten it, so I guess it'd gotten lost somewhere in the German mail. I cringe at the thought of some random family getting an envelope with a print out of me wearing rabbit ears with the caption Pattison High School's Bunny Boy! *Shudder.

But I digress: There was no reason that I could've caused as to why Mom would be in a bad mood.

I walked into the living room, seeing that she was sitting on the sofa, rubbing her temples as Kyle tried his best to console her. He rubbed her back measuredly, and when my mother looked up at me, I could see that her eyes looked red and a little irritated.

"Is everything alright?" I asked foolishly, knowing damn well that something was wrong.

Mom shook her head. "Sit down, Maxie," she said, patting the cushion next to her.

I took the offered seat, fidgeting a little as I wondered what could be wrong. My mom usually preferred to bottle up her emotions until they exploded at the most minuscule inconvenience. Hence, I had absolutely no idea what could be wrong this time.

I eyed Kyle in wonder, mentally asking if this was serious or one of her episodes.

The way he silently nodded at me told me that this was something serious. Uh-oh.

Mom sighed heavily. "Your grandfather's not doing well," she explained, a shaky quality to her voice. "He was in a car accident and is in a wheelchair..."

I silently nodded for her to continue. I wasn't too close with my grandparents on either side of my family. Dad's parents had split up, with his father moving to the States and his mother staying in Germany. However, Oma doesn't speak English, so we didn't really talk much. And I've never met Opa since he and Dad don't get along too well. Mom's mom had passed, but her dad still lives back in Argentina where Mom was born; and I've never gone there and he's never come to Canada. Therefore, video visits and the occasional birthday gift in the mail was the only form of communication that we'd had.

Still, I could sense how distraught Mom was so I wrapped one comforting arm around her.

My mother sniffled a little bit and cleared her throat. "He can't get a visa and there's no one else who can take care of him." She leaned in closer to me and wrapped her free arm around my shoulders, pulling me into a hug. "I fly out to Buenos Aires this weekend, and Kyle's coming with me."

Even though I knew that the focus should be on Grandpa and his ill health, I couldn't help but feel a little annoyed that Mom seemed to have forgotten to add that the three of us would be flying out to Argentina this weekend. I mean, I was going... right?

I guess I wore my confusion on my face because Mom immediately clarified.

"I bought you a ticket to Germany," she explained, sniffling again. "Your father never relinquished his German citizenship, so you have dual citizenship with Canada and Germany. It'll be easier for you to move there than Argentina."

The thought of moving to Germany, a place I've avoided for the past seven years with every fiber of my being, sent a shiver down my spine. Hell no, I didn't want to go to some place where Dad and Alaric and stupid Dominik would make me feel like I didn't matter at all. I mean, I'm lonely here, but there it feels worse! That annoying hole in the center of my chest throbbed and I winced at the painful memory of seeing Dominik's hate-filled eyes as he called me a "Nobody". And yes, it's petty to be angry over something that had happened several years ago.

But damn, it had hurt me so badly. It's hard to just get over that.

"B-but," I tried to argue, "you moved here from Argentina, so don't I have, like, tri-citizenship?"

Mom shook her head. "I relinquished my citizen when I became Canadian. I'm going there on an extended visa." She tried to smile at me, but her eyes still looked pained and worried. "Besides, Maxie, it's been so long since you've seen your dad. It'd be really nice of you two to reconcile."

"...would it?"

Mom sighed. "Please, Maxie?" she asked, her voice still strained as she struggled to maintain composure. "I'm going to be really busy with your grandfather, so it'll really help me be at ease if I know you're safe with Paul and... um, Paul's husband."

I really wanted to argue some more, but I knew that it was useless. I mean, the schools in Germany are world-renowned and the universities there are free to even foreign students. Plus, I couldn't even try to make the argument that I'd be leaving friends behind because I didn't have any. I mean, truth be told, Mom and Emilia were the only reasons for me to stay in Canada. Emilia was living on her own and going to college while Mom would be moving to South America, hence there wasn't really any reason for me to stay here.

But I didn't want to go to Germany!

I didn't want to feel like I didn't exist with Dad and Alaric being the world's most annoying couple to have ever existed. I'm sure that all they'd want to do would be to suck face and pretend that no one else is around as they stare lovingly into one another's eyes and speak a language I don't understand.

And then there's Dominik.

Damn it, I really don't want to see him again. I mean, I'm sure he's moved out since he's in his twenties now (I had to do the math in my head real quickly, deducing that he's around twenty-one now). Still, the risk of running into him was large since Germany is a small country when compared to the sheer girth of Canada!

Well, I could be worrying for nothing. The last interaction I'd had with the douche was when I'd called him a "Bitch" on the phone back when I was ten. Therefore, I'm sure he doesn't want a single thing to do with me either.

Shit, if I'm lucky enough, he'll avoid me just as much as I want to avoid him.

"Fine," I huffed, already feeling sick to my stomach that in a matter of a few short days, I'd be in Germany. And it wouldn't be for a visit, but I'd be living there full time. Damn it!