Flip the Coin [BL]

Chapter 519. Don’t stop

Henry’s POV

"Hungry?" he asked me.

| ...hunt the game

Hearing that we needed meat, I teleported into the forest around the amusement park and soon found what I came for.

I brought him what he wanted: a rabbit, but also the other ingredients from the kitchen at home.

"Can you bring that to Kitty?"

I let the acid spread through my veins, dissolving me to reappear in a living room inside a skyscraper.

Mrs. Howard was on the couch with the staff sergeant, drinking wine together.

Ren was on his stomach on the carpeted floor drawing something, and Kitty snoozed not far from him.

"YOU!" Mrs. Howard jumped up the moment she saw me; Ren also looked at me in surprise.

I ignored them and crossed the one step that was distancing me from Kitty.

Grabbing a handful of his fur, I spread it over my clothes.

Kitty woke up with a growl that turned into a whimper when he saw that it was me.

"YOU WON’T GO ANYWHERE WITHOUT—" While the old woman screamed, I threw the bloody rabbit before Kitty, who instantly snapped to attention at the treat.

"MY CARPET!!!"

Then I disappeared back to the restaurant, back to the kitchen, feeling the ’whisper’ again speaking through me.

"You thought I lied?" I cornered him.

"Don’t you want to leave to see them?" Never looking away from him.

"WE can leave later..." His voice sounded so reassuring, so firm, that it threw me back.

His touch felt so real that I started to doubt whether this was a dream, heaven, or hell.

||...show me how to cook.

Hearing his voice in the kitchen and having him inconvenienced into immobility, the numbness receded further.

Getting fed by him, with something we both made, he taught me how to make it, tasting like home, and then more sleep—I almost felt like a person again when I woke up.

Even old wishes were fulfilled, back from the center. A promise we never kept: playing games.

Inside Ren’s old room at home were a bunch of games he hadn’t brought with him.

I gathered them one by one, my eyes falling on a package with the picture of houses on it.

I put them in the stack, a slight hope arising.

|||...built me a house

I looked at the little wooden cube in my hand, turning it repeatedly.

The numbness is still there, the dissociation is still at work, and the darkness is still growing up my arms.

Had the total acidification of my body been a dream? Or was it a warning?

A premonition?

But there was also warmth, hope that continued to grow, blending out the whisper, the beat, and the song.

Let this be real.

I turned the cube again.

Let Kenny be alive—stay alive.

He gave me a house, so maybe I could...

And make me able to touch him again.

||||... assembled the furniture,

...make it a home.

However, before I could act on it, bringing more furniture, maybe flowers, more blankets, pillows, and decorations, he again stole all my bravado and all my breath.

A date.

A ’first date.’

Our first date.

I always imagined it to be with me wearing a sharp dress shirt and bringing him flowers. Then him laughing and telling me they were corny or gay, only to keep them in the end.

More anticipation.

More hope.

Fear, because the numbness started to lift—and I didn’t want that.

Emotions are dangerous. They hound relentlessly, they tear precisely, and they never let go after picking up a scent.

They control you—they control me.

I can see that I am someone who is really bad at facing reality—especially if reality isn’t on my side, which it never seems to be.

I was bad at it back then in the funeral home, choosing a casket with our temporary caretaker but meeting someone from the city bureau there instead.

The insurance hadn’t even contacted us back then, so another check would soon come in.

And when it came, the girl didn’t yell for her parents anymore.

Instead, the boy and the girl talked more than they ever had, about what they wanted to do, what they wanted to watch, what they wanted to eat, and what they would buy next, as if that were really a way to fill the hollowness inside them.

Maybe it did back then for me, maybe not. Definitely not for her, as I would still hear her crying regularly.

Just that the emptiness grew nonetheless, and we—I—had to do more; I had to put in real effort to not feel or face it.

So, I was still bad at it during all the burgers, the house, the staying up, the sweets, the drinking, the drugs, the parties, and the girls—throughout my whole youth, I couldn’t face it.

I just could not.

So it was _ _ _ _

So it had to be _ _ _ _ _ _ _

And I apparently continued to be bad at facing the truth later, until someone grabbed my neck and shoved my face down, forcing me to see reality, even if I didn’t want it to happen.

Showing me bluntly that although the last of my family was still alive, she had still abandoned me too.

Yeah, then it stopped being good, being alright for a moment.

Someone who first inflicted guilt into me, making sure that I kept my eyes open by showing me how much he suffered because of me and then... making me love him.

But the fear of what was real, what was in my head, what was not real, what I could see and hear, and what I had seen and heard, was still there after all those years.

So the artificial peacefulness coming to me in the form of numbness wasn’t unwelcomed.

I clenched my gloved hand repeatedly while waiting for Kenny to get ready.

Waiting for our date.

Waiting for the moment I could carry him down and hug him—even if it meant losing more of the numbness.

And finally, his chest met mine, and I could feel his heartbeat so, so closely, making it real again.

His breath first, his lips next, and his tongue at last landing on my skin.

"Stop..." I can’t handle this closeness all at once and what it does to me when invading my heart and mind so overwhelmingly.

I just can’t.

"Please..." Don’t stop.

Trail me, hound me, TEAR ME, so that I can come back to life and taste its bittersweetness again.