Chapter 13: A Question of Love and Aliens

Then I blinked. Was that a dream? My head felt fuzzy, like I had just woken from a deep sleep. I was parked on the side of the road, my black Porsche Taycan bathed in the cool glow of the streetlights. Cars zipped by, blurring into streaks of light. I glanced at my phone, the time a stark reminder that it was 1:00 AM on a Sunday.

Stefan’s last message popped up on the screen: "Bro, it’s far past my bedtime. I’m sleeping now. Get home soon. 👍" He was right. It was way past his usual bedtime, and I could just imagine him, sprawled out on his bed, his hair a dark halo against the white pillow. He was a creature of habit.

Driving home, the familiar streets of our gated community felt comforting, though I was very, very sleepy now. My eyelids grew heavier with each passing moment, and I couldn’t shake the lingering feeling of exhaustion from all that had happened. The streetlights spilled soft pools of light across the driveway as I parked the Taycan, the engine humming to a stop.

I picked up the chocolate bar, the wrapper crinkling softly in my hands. With a yawn stretching wide, I made my way to my room, the soft carpet underfoot a welcome comfort. The house was quiet, the kind of stillness that promised a peaceful night.

Once I settled in my room, the familiar walls adorned with K-pop posters and cherished memories surrounded me.

I placed the mysterious chocolate bar by the nightstand, knowing Stefan would appreciate it. He seemed to have an insatiable curiosity about everything, especially things related to UFOs and aliens. We had spent breakfast earlier that Saturday morning chatting animatedly about the latest UFO news, laughing and teasing each other. It was a pleasant reminder that no matter how bizarre life got, there were still moments of joy and connection to be found.

As I settled into the comfort of my bed, I reflected on the whirlwind of events that had turned an ordinary day into something extraordinary. Meeting aliens, discussing the fate of humanity, and being reminded that there were forces out there working to keep us safe—it was a lot to take in. Yet, amidst all the chaos, I was grateful. Grateful for my family, for Stefan's enduring spirit, and for the simple joys that life offered.

Maybe I didn’t need to have all the answers right now. Maybe it was enough to simply live in the moment, to enjoy the little things, like sharing a chocolate bar with my brother or curling up on the sofa to binge-watch our favorite shows. Life, with all its unpredictability, was still beautiful.

With those comforting thoughts swirling in my mind, I closed my eyes and let the weight of the day lift off my shoulders. I surrendered to sleep, feeling a sense of peace settle over me. Each day held its own lessons, its own adventures, and I was ready to embrace whatever came next.

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The aroma of pizza, thick and cheesy, drew Sacha from the depths of sleep. He padded downstairs, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and found Stefan on the sofa, a half-eaten pizza box on the table. The TV blared a documentary about ancient aliens, complete with grainy photos of alleged UFOs and dramatic pronouncements from self-proclaimed experts.

Sacha’s stomach rumbled in emphatic agreement with the delicious scent. He grabbed a slice from the rapidly diminishing pizza and flopped onto the sofa beside Stefan, letting out a contented "Morning."

Stefan merely hummed in response, eyes glued to the screen as a narrator described a close encounter of the third kind.

The house was quiet, a rare occurrence. Maman was probably off at the spa, enjoying a luxurious day with her friends, while Papa perfected his swing on the golf course. Just the two of them, rattling around in the spacious, tech-filled house.

It's weird how quiet it is, Sacha thought, chewing thoughtfully on the pizza crust. Their parents, fiercely protective of their privacy, preferred a home devoid of outside help.

A small army of automated appliances – the dishwasher, the washing machine, the robot vacuum that zipped around the house like a hyperactive beetle – kept things running smoothly.

Papa had even expressed a keen interest in acquiring a Tesla Bot the moment it became available, much to Sacha's amusement. A cleaning service came once a week to do a deep clean, but other than that, the Jacques family relied on themselves.

Which, on a lazy Sunday like this, meant just Sacha and Stefan, coexisting in a comfortable, pizza-fueled silence.

The image of the towering Blue Avian, its feathered head cocked in playful inquiry, flashed across Sacha’s mind. He remembered the alien’s jest, the question about Stefan’s potential interest in a shapeshifted feline extraterrestrial. Amused, Sacha nudged Stefan with his elbow. "Would you date an alien?" he asked casually, taking another bite of pizza.

"No," Stefan replied instantly, his tone flat and bored. He didn't even bother to look away from the television, where astronauts were now speculating about the true meaning of crop circles.

Undeterred, Sacha pressed on. "How about a human?" he asked, feigning disinterest. Stefan was an adult now, after all; Sacha’s curiosity was piqued.

"No," came the swift, predictable reply.

"Are you even interested in another fellow human being?" Sacha persisted, a hint of genuine curiosity creeping into his voice.

"Not romantically," Stefan clarified, his tone still devoid of any discernible emotion. He remained engrossed in the documentary, seemingly oblivious to Sacha’s probing questions. Well, at least he’s honest, Sacha thought, a small smile playing on his lips.

Suddenly, Stefan turned, his hazel eyes meeting Sacha’s. He placed a hand on Sacha’s shoulder, his touch surprisingly firm and comforting. "Sacha," he began, his voice unusually serious. "You are complete."

Sacha blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in tone and the cryptic statement. He opened his mouth to question Stefan’s meaning, but his younger brother continued, as if anticipating his confusion.

"You don’t need someone to complete you." Stefan’s gaze softened, a hint of understanding flickering in his eyes. He knew Sacha’s romantic tendencies, the way he sometimes yearned for a connection, for that elusive "someone special." Stefan’s words, while simple, resonated with Sacha. He knew, logically, that he didn't need a partner to be happy, but sometimes the yearning crept in, a quiet whisper of longing in the back of his mind.

Sacha chewed on his lower lip, considering Stefan’s words. He knew Stefan wasn't trying to be dismissive or hurtful; it was just his straightforward, no-nonsense way of expressing his perspective. Stefan, who seemed content in his own company, who found joy in the simple things – a good documentary, a purring cat, a perfectly executed meditation. Perhaps, Sacha mused, there was something to be said for that kind of self-sufficiency.

"Oh, okay," Sacha mumbled around a mouthful of cheesy pizza crust. Stefan’s words, while well-intentioned, had missed the mark. It wasn’t that Sacha felt incomplete or unloved. The Jacques family practically radiated affection, sometimes to a slightly embarrassing degree. No, Sacha’s desire for romance stemmed from a different place altogether.

He was a romantic at heart, a hopeless idealist who devoured romantic comedies and swooned over dramatic love stories. He longed for the experience, the thrill of the chase, the butterflies in his stomach, the stolen kisses under the moonlight. He wanted to live out those scenes he’d read about and watched on screen, to feel the rush of first love, the comfort of a steady hand in his, the warmth of a shared glance across a crowded room.

Stefan, bless his simple soul, seemed to have a sudden epiphany. His hazel eyes widened, a look of innocent concern washing over his face. "Are you not receiving proper love from us?" he asked, his voice laced with genuine worry.

Sacha blinked, momentarily stunned by the unexpected question. "What? No!" he sputtered, a blush creeping up his cheeks. "It’s not about… feeling unloved. It’s about experience, Stefan. You should understand that." He gestured vaguely with his pizza slice, trying to articulate the complex emotions swirling within him. Sacha, the romantic, wanted to experience the world of love and relationships firsthand.

And Stefan, the free spirit, the adventurer who hopped from job to job, should understand the innate human need for new experiences. After all, Stefan wasn’t a job hopper because he was dissatisfied with his work. He was driven by curiosity, a thirst to explore different paths, to understand the nuances of each profession. Sacha’s yearning for romance was no different. He wanted to taste, to touch, to feel what it was like to be in love.

Stefan, his brow furrowed in thought, stared intently at Sacha for a moment. The gears in his brain were clearly turning, processing Sacha’s explanation. Finally, a look of understanding dawned on his face. "Ah, okay. I see," he said, a slow smile spreading across his lips. "I support you!" He gave Sacha a reassuring pat on the shoulder, his touch warm and firm.

I couldn’t help but smile back, relieved that he’d finally understood. "Thanks, Stefan," I said, my voice laced with affection.