Pitbabe S2, Chapter 11 pg5

 Pitbabe S2, Chapter 11 pg5

   “You can do it tomorrow.”

   “No way, it’s gotta be every day,” the dutiful househusband says firmly, making me feel like some kind of slob. It’s just one night—would the house really turn into a landfill over one unthrown trash bag? Sometimes Charlie needs to learn to be a bit more flexible. “Babe, go turn on the AC and wait for me. I’ll toss the trash and come right up.”

   “Hurry up, okay?” I grumble a bit in my head but can’t say much. I give in easily because, come on, Charlie’s not going to take an hour to throw out the trash, right?

   “Alright,” Charlie responded with his usual smile, watching me climb the stairs like he was worried I’d detour somewhere other than the bedroom. No matter how many times I glanced back, that guy kept staring until I finally waved him off. But instead of looking away, the goofy idiot waved back.

   What a dork.

   I hit the remote to turn on the AC as soon as I stepped into the bedroom, then shuffled over to sit on the edge of the bed. A dull ache in my forehead was bugging me a bit, but Charlie had already given me meds after dinner. It should ease up soon, or I won’t sleep tonight. I told everyone, including Charlie, that a little head injury like this was no big deal—l; Pitbabe’s had worse more often than I sneezes. But honestly, who gets used to getting hurt over and over? First time or tenth, it still hurts like hell, especially when the painkillers wear off. Brutal.

   Once the room cooled down, I lay back. I settled on my usual side of the bed, grabbed my phone from the charger by the headboard, and scrolled to pass the time while waiting for Charlie. Until he’s in bed with me, I can’t sleep—head injury or not. Back when I first started having this issue, I thought it was a big problem that I couldn’t fall asleep on my own. I tried having others sleep beside me—Phii Alan, North, even Jeff (though with Jeff, I was so uncomfortable I slept even less). None of it worked. So, I figured it’s not that I can’t sleep alone—it’s that I can’t sleep without Charlie. Sounds like a serious issue, but after living with this weird quirk for a while, it doesn’t feel like such a big deal. Charlie sleeps with me every night anyway. As long as he’s here, I’m just a normal guy with no sleep problems.

   But tonight’s feeling less normal, because my personal sleeping pill is taking forever to come to bed.

   I started counting in my head, curious how high I’d get before Charlie finally showed up. I only made it to twenty-three before my patience ran out (yeah, I know, it’s pathetic). I got out of bed, opened the door, and stepped out. I didn’t need to go downstairs—just reached the staircase and saw Charlie’s back. He was standing in the kitchen. The downstairs lights were off, pitch dark except for the single light in the kitchen where Charlie stood. I crept forward, planning to spook the househusband a little. It took some high-level stealth skills since, ever since he got my senses, Charlie’s hearing is sharper than most. I can barely sneak up on him anymore.

   But today, I might’ve pulled it off. I got close to the kitchen, and Charlie still hadn’t noticed. He was leaning on the sink, arms propped up, doing… something. He’d said he was taking the trash out, but that shouldn’t take more than five minutes.

   “Hic…”

   Before I could execute my prank, a sound from the kitchen stopped me cold. I sidestepped, pressing my back against the wall, hiding in a spot where Charlie wouldn’t see me if he turned. My body moved on its own for some reason, my heart pounding like I was scared of getting caught, even though this is my house.

   I can go anywhere in this place—I know that. But right now, I didn’t even dare breathe.

   Charlie hadn’t taken the trash out. The big black bag was still on the floor by his feet, not even tied shut. Yet there he was, standing there, head bowed… crying.

   He was trying hard not to make a sound, but I could hear the stifled sobs breaking through, the little sniffles too. The more I heard, the more my chest churned. Anyone would panic seeing their partner secretly crying like this. But what’s worse is I had no idea why Charlie was crying.

   He’s been smiling all day. Even though I had an accident that turned into a big deal, Charlie kept his composure remarkably well. He didn’t seem as worried as I expected, just saying things like, “It’s fine,” “It’s nothing, Babe’s okay, I know,” or “It’ll heal soon.” He even laughed at my jokes and nagged me for not finishing my food. He acted so normal that I couldn’t imagine what could possibly make him cry.

   Maybe something about his research?

   That doesn’t seem quite right. Two years ago, Charlie might’ve stressed over work enough to cry, but now? I can’t picture it. I don’t think he’d shed tears over research or even studies. Plus, the latest drug in his system seems to be working well—he even seemed thrilled about it. So, that’s probably not why he’s secretly crying. At the very least, if it was about work, he’d cry to me, right?

   Then what is it… something Charlie doesn’t want me to know?

   I peeked into the kitchen. Charlie was still standing there, same spot, same posture. Looking closer, I saw his right hand holding my hospital bag, the black bag on the floor still open, revealing the trash inside. A quick glance told me it was used cotton and gauze. Earlier, Charlie cleaned my wounds and redressed them himself. Those cotton pads and gauze were stained with my blood, looking far from pleasant.

   Really not pleasant.

   But Charlie was staring at them, crying even harder.

   “Damn it…”

   Charlie muttered, wiping his tears. He looked frustrated, like this crying was mixed with grief and anger he didn’t know how to release.

   And seeing him like this, I felt like I was about to cry too.

   I looked up at the ceiling, taking slow, deep breaths, forcing myself not to cry. Earlier, I was full of confusion and questions, but now I understood everything—the reason he didn’t want to cry in front of me, the hospital bag, the pile of blood-stained gauze.

   “Why lose it… just hearing your voice, I knew you were fine.”

   All lies.

Previous

Next