“What do you mean?” Flash asked, “It’s like I can’t escape from dealing with this horrible nightmare…I just wanna focus on my music, but it seems like every time I try to, I’m sucked back into some vortex of emotional damage.”
“...While I am no therapist, I can still do my best to offer advice to you through your situation,” Micro continued. “Believe it or not, I can relate to you on some level. Our situations are not exactly the same, but they’re similar in that we both have our own internal conflicts brought on by how we were raised.”
Flash raised a brow at such a thing. The idea that Micro Chips had been raised to be the way he currently was and the fact that it was comparable to his situation was…interesting to say the least.
“Wait, what?” he asked out of confusion, “But I thought research and science was your passion. Something that you enjoyed doing for the sake of it. Did your folks push you to be this way or something?”
“...Somewhat. How do I put this without sounding arrogant--my parents are…” Micro put his hands together and exhaled. “...not the most intelligent people. Which is completely fine--I love them all the same. But once they realized just how advanced I was, I was able to skip grades and became…isolated among my peers.”
The fact that he apparently skipped a grade or two brought an important question to Flash’s mind. “...Hang on, how old are you?” he asked.
“18,” Micro replied, “About a year younger than the average senior. Anyhow--I consistently felt like I was in the wrong classes growing up. Everyone was always two to three years older than I was, and thus, had slightly more developed minds and interests, leaving me with no one to really express myself with.”
“I see…so wait, where do your parents come in?”
Micro gave a sarcastic chuckle as he shrugged his shoulders. “Pfft. That’s the kicker: They don’t. Or rather, they didn’t. I often found myself annoyed because they generally wanted me to succeed but didn’t stop to ask me how my day was or how I was feeling about school or life in general. Combine that with having almost no friends outside of a select few who shared some common interests…I was somewhat pessimistic in my younger years.”
“Yikes…so it is kinda similar. They pushed you to be as smart as possible, but also ended up pushing you away,” Flash commented with a tone of painful realization. “...Ouch. I can’t imagine what that must’ve been like for you. Did you ever manage to get through it?”
Micro hesitated. He removed his glasses, wiped off the lenses, and placed them back on his face. “...I did, but that’s part of a much more…emotionally charged tale that I’m not exactly prepared to delve into right at the moment.”
Flash nodded. “That’s understandable. Even so, I appreciate the fact that you went out of your way to listen to me. What do you think I should do next?”
“Talk things out with your parents as well,” Micro suggested, “Your father needs to understand that you’re your own man now and won’t stand for anymore of this fighting between him and your mother. If he can’t accept who you are, that’s his problem, not yours. Your mother should also put her foot down and see to it that you’re allowed to have your own influence over your life. You’re nearly a fully-developed young adult, you have that right at the very least,” he turned and looked out over the horizon to the serene beach and calm waves that pushed against the rocks. “...At least, that’s how I see it. Again. Take my advice with a pinch of salt, as I am no expert on the matter.”
“...You’re right on that front,” Flash replied as he folded his arms, “I should be willing to take more of an active role in my own life. I never considered it until now because I wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do or not…guess that’s what friends are for, huh? Thanks, Micro.”
“Not a problem. A good support system is important to have for any circumstance. After all, no one can survive this world alone. Magic can only get you so far.”
“‘Magic can only get you so far’…hmm…” Flash started thinking about those words and how they could be used. “I wonder if--”
Thump!
“OW!”
The boys’ focus was completely stolen by the sound of something hitting one of the balcony’s support beams. Flash and Micro looked over to find…
A purple and green dog carrying what appeared to be a small, black handbag around his neck. “Anyone here?!--woah, there’s more of you than I would’ve expected. That’s good--is Sandbar here?”
“Spike? Now that’s what I call unexpected,” Flash commented.
“He is,” Micro answered the question, “Glad you managed to find us. I suppose since Twilight is also under the effects of this spell, she’s not able to take care of you.”
“Funny you mention her,” Spike turned his head towards the handbag he was wearing, “I’ve got something that Twilight told me to use in case of emergencies. But first…” He clutched his abdomen with a paw as he grimaced, “I really need something to eat...I could’ve sworn I smelled steak from this direction…”
“That’s what we had earlier--steak tacos from the food truck that Sandbar's father works at,” Micro called out, “Come on around to the front door and I’ll let you in. Then we can take a look at this device Twilight was speaking of…”
With cheerful panting, Spike rose to the occasion and started skittishly scampering around the house towards the front door. "You had me at steak!"