Men Problems

Peter stood on the cusp of the playground, the weight of anticipation and nervousness heavy in his chest. The vast expanse of the playground stretched before him, uncertainty and the thrill of possibility warring within him. Was this the destined path, he wondered?

Intriguingly, a rapid beat of his heart spurred him forward, a rhythmic thud of adventure urging him towards the gathering at the table. About four men clad in crimson suits of armor and a girl in a voluminous dress were seated, their presence as enigmatic as the future.

Could this be the opportunity to forge bonds, to find companions in this uncharted territory? As a prince, he pondered, such connections were pivotal.

With measured steps, he approached the table, locking eyes with individuals whose countenances bore the mark of boldness. “Who are you?” one of them inquired, his scruffy brown hair and dark brown eyes betraying an unanticipated warmth that failed to intimidate Peter. Another member of the assembly elucidated, “He’s the king’s son, returned only yesterday.”

“Is that so?” Peter mused, a sudden smile gracing his features as he distributed cards. “I find that to be almost unbelievable.” A moment of hesitation, regret tinged his expression as he shrugged, “He’s not even sure himself,” the explainer asserted.

“Let’s not be too harsh,” the girl interjected, her compassionate nature evident. “He couldn’t have known all his life.” The man scoffed, “Well, he should remain that way.”

The exchange left Peter disconcerted, prompting a slow retreat from the table. His gaze shifted towards the swings, memories blooming within his mind like a delicate flower. Memories of laughter and companionship with Micah while swaying on those swings, their chatter an inseparable part of those moments. The memories welled tears, forcing Peter to hastily wipe them away, grappling to accept the reality that stood before him.

Then, an unexpected touch, a red-haired girl with freckles placing a comforting hand on him. “Are you okay?”

Instead of finding solace, he felt an uncomfortable surge of embarrassment, swiftly pushing her hand away. “I’m fine,” he managed, averting his eyes in shame.

Her expression shifted to concern, but Peter, overwhelmed, hurriedly distanced himself. He sank into a chair, gaze fixed upon the table, reflecting upon what he deemed a disastrous beginning to his princely duties.

And, unfortunately, matters only worsened.

An abrupt, forceful grip seized his shoulder, startling him. He turned swiftly, confronted by a visage twisted in anger, staring into his very soul. “What are you doing with my girl?!” the figure bellowed.

Confused, Peter stammered, “I’m sorry—who?” The man, unamused, retorted, “You were just talking to her!”

“Her?”

“Yes, her!”

Peter straightened, adjusting his jacket. “I’ll be leaving.”

“No one is leaving without a fight.”

Peter trembled, fear now palpable as the man charged towards him with alarming speed. In the blink of an eye, a sickening crack resounded in his stomach, as if his bones grotesquely protested the impact of the man’s head colliding with his midsection.

The table collapsed upon him, sending waves of nauseating pain through his body. Weakly, he scrambled, crawling away on his hands.

Until, he felt a clutch at his knees, dragging him back like an enraged beast, eager to ensnare and rend him apart.

In desperation, he drove his fingers into the ground, attempting to quell the unbearable pain.

But, it was all in vain; he was forced into a headlock, the man’s arm tightening around his neck like a noose gradually being drawn. “Let go!” Peter choked, his grip on the man’s arm weakening. He could taste the saliva sputtering from his mouth, his breath growing shallow.

“So you want to challenge her again?” the man roared, constricting Peter’s neck. Peter struggled to breathe, almost losing his grip.

Then, by luck, a savior arrived and thankfully broke them apart.

Released, Peter rolled onto his side, gasping and begging for breath, convulsing violently on the floor.

Suddenly, his arms were lifted, and his legs were finally stabilized on the ground.

He looked back, meeting Micah’s surprised gaze. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

Peter sighed. “I don’t know.” Micah nodded in understanding, encouraging Peter to walk—limp, with him.

Beside them, a small bench caught Micah’s eye, a place where Peter could rest.

He gently laid Peter down on the bench. Peter seemed immobile, his legs devoid of sensation.

“Are you okay?” Micah inquired, easing Peter’s legs down to the ground.

“Yes, of course,” Peter responded irritably. “I’ve already told you this.” “Yes, I know—but I’m still concerned about your well-being, bro—” Suddenly, Micah’s words choked off, realization striking him, something he hadn’t considered before.

“Yeah, you know what—let’s go home,” he said, smiling at Peter.

Confusion lingered in Peter’s eyes, but he didn’t dwell on it; he allowed Micah to help him up, proceeding towards the castle.

Finally arriving, the guards promptly closed the gates behind them.

The night descended, embracing the boys as they prepared for rest. Their room was humble, but their expectations surpassed the reality.

It held a simple bed, a lone window, and a desk to sit at.

But, at least it provided a place to sleep—a modest comfort, the best they could hope for.

Micah was curious about Peter’s experiences, attempting to initiate a conversation. “So, how was your day?” Micah asked, attempting to spark dialogue.

Peter remained reticent, casting an awkward atmosphere upon the room.

“Alright, um—how about my day?” Micah tried, now uncertain of his approach.

Silence.

No words escaped Peter’s lips; he merely stared out the window, grappling with the bruise on his body.

“You know, I thought being a prince would command more respect in this place,” he finally expressed.

Micah didn’t respond, pondering the question that had been posed.

“Apparently, being choked is entirely normal here.”

“Well, people aren’t accustomed to us—maybe once we do something noteworthy, we might gain respect.”

Suddenly, Peter’s eyes widened in awe, and he immediately turned his head in excitement.

“That’s it, we need to act like princes!”