Greg Veder vs The World

Cutscene: Introspections II

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –​

The world spun around Theo as he sat awkwardly at a lavishly set table in the middle of a gala. As usual, he felt like he was on an alien planet, one brimming with a constant rush of activity that left him feeling dizzy and out of place.

Directly across the polished mahogany table sat his father, the illustrious Maximillian Karl Anders, caught up in the adoration of some random rich socialite, this time a female city councilman who was probably looking for something a bit more personal than political. Her voice, full of polished flattery and the clinking of crystal glasses, only served to amplify Theo's irritation.

His father, sat across from him, an imposing figure. In a perfectly tailored charcoal gray suit, his golden hair slicked back, and a charming smile plastered on his face, Max Anders was the epitome of poise and aristocracy. His overwhelming presence cast a shadow that Theo could never escape, a shadow that only deepened under the glittering chandeliers.

Beside him, sat the twins, Nessa and Jessica, picking idly at their gourmet salads and engaging in a frivolous banter that had become their trademark. Their radiant beauty was enhanced by the glistening white and gold dresses they wore, which seemed to twinkle with every shift in their postures.

Nessa had her hair up in a braided crown, while Jessica had hers down in a long fishtail braid - the usual reversal of the styles they wore when out in uniform. He'd often wondered about their peculiar choice of hairstyles - was it an attempt at being smart or just a pointless quirk?

It's probably both, Theo thought, trying not to roll his eyes. He wasn’t very forgiving of the two, but he couldn’t help it. Despite looking so much like his mother — albeit younger — the two of them always seemed to represent everything he hoped his mother would never be. Granted, he wasn’t very forgiving to anyone in his family for that matter.

Speaking of his family, while they all looked picture perfect, there was Theo himself - a misfit in a baby blue suit that dug uncomfortably into his midsection. While his was supposedly tailored to perfection, by the same hand that handled his father's own, it was the difference in their forms that was a painful reminder of his constant chubbiness.

A pinch at his torso and stomach from a slightly-too-tight shirt and jacket was without a doubt a purposeful choice from his father, something to make him think. After all, his father’s frosty words still echoed in his head, It doesn’t reflect well on the Anders family if the only son and heir looks like he has no self-control.

Yeah, well I'm not you, am I? He retorted silently. The only evidence of his bitter thoughts was the slight clenching of his fists under the table.

Despite sharing the same blond hair and gray eyes, Theo always felt like a penguin in a flock of flamingos. His glasses did little to hide his chubby cheeks and the discomfort written across his face. His parents, even in their youthful photos, seemed to glide with effortless grace, a stark contrast to his own clumsy demeanor.

With a quiet sigh, Theo shook his head, chasing away the unpleasant memories. His eyes dropped to his empty plate, the remains of a chicken breast and a meager helping of steamed vegetables stared back at him. His stomach protested, a faint growl lost in the symphony of clinking cutlery and muffled conversations.

As if sensing his need, his gaze found a server weaving through the crowd. However, before he could signal with a raised finger, his father's piercing grey gaze bore into him, freezing him in place. He deflated, his shoulders drooping subtly.

Not even a single second to myself, he thought, keeping his expression neutral.

His eyes wandered, taking in the grandeur of the gala. The twenty-sixth floor of the Forsberg Gallery had been transformed into a sparkling winter wonderland. White cloth draped the walls, their ethereal glow intensified by the bright chandeliers. What was initially planned as a fundraiser for the Mayor's re-election campaign had been transformed by MedHall into a grand event for the city's revitalization.

Well, for the wealthier parts, at least. Theo thought cynically. The parts Bakuda’s bombing spree hadn’t reduced to rubble. For the rest? Who cares, right?

The entire event was a spectacle put up for the elite, a stark reminder of what he was expected to be. Despite the veneer of elegance and luxury, the gala felt hollow, a mere facade for the world to see. Theo was just a part of this spectacle, his discomfort an inconsequential detail lost in the glitz of it all.

"Isn't this just darling, Theo?" Jessica cooed, her voice pulling him out of his reverie. He offered her a noncommittal hum in response, his gaze locked onto the intricate patterns of the barely-eaten dessert that he knew his father had only touched to be polite.

"D'you see the Mayor's wife, Jess?" Nessa nudged her sister, her grey eyes glinting with mischief. Jessica followed her sister's gaze, a delicate hand stifling a giggle as she observed the woman in question.

"Oh, honey," Jessica drawled, "that dress is a disaster. Poor thing, she looks like she's wearing a curtain."

The girls erupted in a shared fit of laughter, their clear, bright voices ringing through the ambient noise.

Theo, however, remained detached, his gaze lost somewhere beyond the chandelier's glittering prisms. He heard their words, their laughter, but it all seemed to blend into the grand symphony of the gala.

"Theo, don't you think?" Nessa turned towards him, her voice laced with sweetness as she sought to pull him into their gossip. It was an unspoken command, a game they loved to play — a puppet show, and Theo was as usual their reluctant marionette.

"I...uh, I guess?" He responded with a slow drawl, his eyes momentarily flicking towards the Mayor's wife before returning to his untouched dessert.

Jessica let out a high-pitched giggle, her gloved hand lightly touching his shoulder. "Oh Theo, you're such a bore sometimes," she declared, her words sounding so bubbly and ditzy Theo felt like throwing up. "You don't have to pretend to be interested."

"I'm not pretending," Theo mumbled under his breath, his gaze fixed intently on his plate. His stomach twisted as they laughed again, a bitter taste creeping up his throat.

"Hey, look there," Nessa whispered, pointing at a tall man draped in a suit that was more costume than formalwear. Square-jawed and handsome, he flashed a moviestar-worthy smile as he chatted and laughed. "Isn't he the guy from that new TV show - the one about the cape bodyguard?"

"Yep, that's him," Jessica nodded, her eyes sparkling with delight. "Oh, the things I could do if I were on a date with him."

This banter was like their own secret language, a constant barrage of jokes and half-whispered comments that Theo could hardly keep up with. He sat there, surrounded by their laughter and the constant hum of the gala, a bystander in his own life.

"Right, Theo?" Jessica asked, trying once more to pull him into their conversation.

"I wouldn't know," Theo replied, the words slipping out almost automatically. He offered them a strained smile, one that didn't reach his eyes.

“Goodbye, councilman.” Maximillian Anders' conversation with the politician came to a close as Max delivered a swift, practiced wave of dismissal. The politician, satisfied and star-struck, departed with a pleased smile. Theo watched as his father turned his attention back to their table, the lines of his face shifting into a calculated neutral. An approaching security guard — the familiar silver MedHall crown gleaming on his uniform — offered a quiet piece of news into Max's ear.

The news was met with a subtle smile tugging at the corners of Max's mouth, a predatory glint in his steel grey eyes that made Theo's stomach knot. His father could be a sight to behold when he was happy, but that delight always came with strings attached — puppet strings, Theo often thought, that made them all dance to his rhythm.

With a commanding presence, Max rose from his seat, his gaze flickering between Nessa and Jessica. "Stay here," he instructed them, the tone of his voice non-negotiable. Their faces fell slightly at his words, a blend of disappointment and silent protest.

"But, Maxy—"

"Why—"

Two voices, one question. Max cut them off with a single glance, a silent reminder of their roles tonight. As for Theo, he didn't utter a word of protest, didn't ask for an explanation. Instead, he simply met his father's eyes with a stoic gaze, a slight nod of his head affirming his compliance.

With a final, decisive gesture, Max pointed to an empty table three placements over. "You'll sit there," he declared, his voice resonating with the authority he wielded. He paused, a knowing smile spreading across his features. "It's been quite a while since you've met your godbrother, hasn't it, Theodor?"

The mention caught Theo off-guard, his eyebrows raising slightly. Greg's here? He thought, a rush of confusion and a spark of relief washing over him. Greg was unlike the rest of their family; just as much of a ball of nerves as he was, if a good bit louder and less restrained. Maybe he wouldn't feel so alone tonight.

As Max walked away, presumably to fetch their new guests, Theo was left to his own thoughts.

He preferred it that way.