(BL) Taming the Field Guide-Chapter 54: A shadow of a Brent

Brent thought this whole charade was ridiculous. What made it even more ridiculous was the fact that his brother had not only made sure that he had several people look at him and make sure he was in good condition, he then made sure that make-up artists came on and did a little ’touch up’ on him.

Brent had been around Kellen enough to know that was fucking bullshit. Brent was flawless, even with the tremendous bags under his eyes. The people should know about that!

He was tired! He was worn down!

He wanted to go home!

Brent didn’t throw a fit like he wanted to, however. He just sat there, pouting and annoyed as they dressed him up and played house with him. He even let them fit him with a fresh arm.

It looked too real for his liking and several of the people in the room did not laugh when he asked if it was real.

The room went silent, cold, as everyone in the room had looked at the punk who had pulled another child labor made chair into the room. This time it wasn’t velvet, but still a rich purple that made Brent’s spine tingle. That colour wasn’t natural, and honestly? Reminded him of the fucking gate where his friend was.

His brother had thrown his head back and laughed, wearing a more sedate outfit since he was planning to go out in public.

He then leaned forward, smirking as even Brent’s make-up artist had frozen, mid brushstroke.

"I promise that if I was planning to give you someone else’s arm, Brenton, I would have matched it to your skin tone properly." That was when Brent noticed that the tone was slightly off, and then he realised that his brother had called him by his full legal name.

Brent had turned his lip up at that, but held his tongue. Everyone already knew he was upset that he was here, he didn’t need to make it a problem for everyone else anyway.

Soon, Brent was ’dressed’. He felt stuffy. He felt prissy. He felt like he was a more handsome version of his fucking brother, and that bothered him more than anything else.

Where was his leather? His jacket? His fucking scar?

They had covered all of it with fucking make-up, and now he looked like a prissy A Class Guide that Kellen would have turned his nose up at even escorting on the front lines.

Brent would have bullied him if he saw himself on the front lines. It was gross. Brent knew he cleaned up well, but he didn’t need to fit exactly into the image that his brother was trying to craft for him. Especially when he had already come to somewhat of an agreement that Brent would leave once this was all over.

Brent didn’t need to look like them. He just needed to get this awful job done, and then get the fuck out of here.

Brent was in something he would never be caught dead in if he had a choice.

White. Pants. 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

Not only that, but he was in this weird, but soft, sage-y green coloured sweater that was so pastel that it made Brent’s eyes hurt. The only reason it was chosen was because it kind of matched his eyes, or at least, that was what he hoped. His brother had also selected a suit jacket to cover everything, which was almost the same colour of his fucking pants. It was a damn miracle that Brent had gotten some sun otherwise he would have blinded everyone with his skin and this colour combination.

His brother at least had the decency to provide him with a nice pair of gloves. They weren’t black, like he would have wanted, but they were thick, not too tight, and fit over his real hand and the ’fake’ hand perfectly.

Brent’s hair was styled so that it was ’swooshy’. That’s how he felt, having to flick his hair out of his face every five seconds. It was annoying as hell. Brent let his hair dry naturally, and that got him enough ass or pussy that any man could want. Why did he need to style it now?

The shoes were the most uncomfortable things out of everything. They weren’t combat boots, but the fucking leather loafers that he was used to from his childhood. He hated them. They never felt nice, they squeezed his feet and didn’t make him feel comfortable. If a gate suddenly opened, he’d be worried his fucking shoes would break and he would be caught in the monsters swarming out all because he broke a fucking heel.

His brother knew that Brent was disgusted by this whole moment, and that seemed to make the man thrilled.

When he stood up to come and examine Brent, he had the biggest smile he’d ever seen on his face.

"You look stunning, Brenton. So handsome I’m a little upset we hurt your face as a child." Brent heard that. He was only a little upset, meaning he still felt like the child Brent had deserved the sudden and uncalled for attack his brother had launched at him. When he had been Brent’s senior by what?

10 years?

Yeah, he loved to hear that. Really made sure that Brent didn’t forget his fucking place, huh?

"I look like a damn twat." Brent said, growling. He felt like one too and his brother grinned. It was on the more crazy side of maniacal, but his fucking groupie, Colby, was all for it.

Brent could see how the man was glowing from the background from his designated area. Brent wanted to spit on the ground just to spite him, but froze when his brother came and wrapped his arm around his shoulder.

"You know that’s not the case, and even if you were a twat, you’re a genetically engineered twat that everyone finds handsome. Now, come on. The others are waiting and we need to get moving. Being fashionably late is fine. Being two hours late is not." His brother said and Brent curled his lip up, sighed, and nodded begrudgingly.

"I thought we were just going out for appearances? To show I’m not being held hostage?" Brent asked and watched as Brent’s brother’s smile froze, before it grew slightly predatory. He squeezed Brent’s shoulder a little tighter and Brent grew instantly suspicious.

"Right. Riiiight. Just a little outing to show you aren’t being held hostage. But, Brenton," his brother turned his wide, dangerous, insane smile towards him. Up close like this it was more unsettling seeing it from such a plain-looking man. "You know what kind of outings I do, correct?" Brent did not like the sound of that.

"What are we doing?" Brent asked, immediately furious. "Because I don’t give a fuck about what you normally do. We could have gone for fucking lunch for all I cared!" Brent told him, and watched as his brother feigned shock.

"Oh! That would have been a rather good idea, however, it’s a bit late. We’re going to a party." His brother was trying to sound sweet. Like Brent would fucking by anything sweet from this man.

He stopped trusting him when he lost his fucking arm.

"A party? What fucking kind of party? I am not hanging out with any of the fucking perverts that you know, brother. I have standards." Brent did have standards, even if they didn’t make sense to others.

Kellen never asked, which in a way, was a good and bad thing. God, he missed him. If Kellen had been here he would have punched his brother by now. Thinking about that kept Brent sane.

God, worrying about the man while he was captured like this was not something he’d ever thought he’d experience, but here he was. He had always thought that when he went missing like this, it would be Kellen who would be panicking over Brent, not the other way around.

"Brenton." His brother warned and Brent stuck his tongue out at his brother.

"I’m behaving as much as I can." Brent told him and his brother looked mildly exasperated.

"Even your cousin puts on a better mask." He accused and Brent gave a harsh laugh.

"I’m not them, and I don’t give a fuck. I don’t want to impress the people that you want to impress. I want to sign some fucking papers and leave." Brent told him. "Preferably with a decent prosthetic." Brent muttered quietly and watched as his brother’s smile faded slowly, his eyes growing cold and calculating. Brent knew his hand was going to grip the back of his neck before he did. Brent could have broken his grip easily, but knew better.

If he showed that he was stronger than his brother, that was not going to go well.

"Brenton, I want that for you. I do, but you need to work with me to achieve that. If I get what I want, we get what we want. Understood?" His brother’s breath washed over Brent’s face and Brent tried not to turn up his nose at the feeling and the scent. "You’re a smart boy, Brenton. You know what will serve you better. You’ve always been smarter than the others." That sent a dangerous shiver down his spine.

Brent didn’t need to be Rhys to fucking know that was a prediction of bad things to come. Him? Being a smart boy?

Brent let out a heavy sigh, turning his gaze away from his brother and caught the eye of Colby. He was making a line across his neck, his eyes aflame. Brent snorted.

"Yeah, a smart boy." Brent repeated out loud. "I’m not fucking anyone, I’m not kissing anyone, I’m not ’forming an alliance’ with anyone. I’m serious. If you try to force me to keep ties here, I cannot and will not be held accountable for what happens next." Brent told him.

The tightness on the back of his neck was painful, but Brent had felt worse in foreplay before. It faded after a second and his brother let out a tense breath.

"Do you think I would do that to you?" He asked and Brent had no fucking illusions about what kind of man his brother was. If he thought it would help him, he would do it.

Selling off the brother he didn’t even like? Without a fucking hesitation.

"It would go against the rules dear old grandfather made, wouldn’t it?" Brent asked, sliding his gaze towards his brother and watched his jaw twitch. Yeah, that was what Brent thought.

Fucker thought that he could use Brent as he wanted, and Brent was old enough to fight back. Plus, he would have significantly less to fight for if Kellen didn’t make it out of the Gate. He might even be able to find out more if he went outside.

He was sure that someone at the fucking party would know what was going on. Maybe Brent could get a hint, a taste. See what the hell was going on.

"Is there champagne?" Brent asked finally, a peace offering of sorts and his brother let out a soft exhale.

"You know I would never go somewhere that didn’t, Brenton." His brother chastised, before he gave him an interested look. "You like champagne? You strike me as a beer kind of man." His brother said and Brent gave a chuckle.

"I’m honestly more of a cider man these days, but I like champagne too."