Black And White

Chapter 8

"So, how does it feel to be back?" Curt and Owen sat in their living room, both with glasses of wine.
"It's weird. I never thought I wanted to come back here until I saw you. But it feels like I've just got this thing I've been desperate for ever since the day I died. So in short, it's amazing. How are you feeling? After... what happened as we were leaving."
"I'm all right." Curt said a little to quickly, "I'm fine."
Owen eyed him sceptically, "If you say so."
"So, what do you wanna do?" Curt put down his glass.
"Watch a movie. I've not done that in four years. Then I can't wait to get some sleep."
"Today was pretty exhausting."
"Yeah."
"I never got the chance to ask you properly; how do you feel about... what you did to get out of there?"
"You mean my parents? I told you. They were dickheads. I'm better off without them."
"I know you said that, but are you sure?"
"Yes. Now, come on, movies."
Curt smiled half heartedly and they ended up watching "Into The Woods." Apparently they didn't have the same aversion to musicals most people from Hatchetfield and PEIP agents did after the incident.
Just after watching the two princes argue over whose extremely privileged life was worse because of their luck (or, rather, their lack there of) with girls, Curt felt Owen's grip on his hand soften. Then a head fell into his shoulder. For a second, he could feel himself slip back into that day four years ago, but seeing how peaceful Owen looked calmed him instantly. He smiled contentedly as he let his head fall on top of Owen's.

Curt didn't quite remember how he fell asleep that night. In fact, when he woke up, he couldn't clearly remember any of the previous day. So when he realised his fingers were interlaced with those of another man, and the man's head was buried in his shoulder, his heart started punching against his chest. He slowly moved away, then saw brown hair that was almost unrecognisable when it was messy, but he could still tell who it was.
     After spending a few seconds in complete disbelief, his blur of memories from the previous day separated into something that was somewhat comprehensible and he found tears starting to sting at his eyelids as a gasp died in his throat. Having to say goodbye to the man he loved had nearly killed him. He had spent so long convinced that he could never be happy again. But now Owen was back. They could be happy together.
In theory, that was. They couldn't if Curt was going to get freaked out every time they kissed or woke up together. Curt just had to hope things would get back to normal. Or, what he would have considered normal four years ago. He wasn't really sure what to consider normal anymore.
Owen yawned as the soft morning light shone through his eyelids, "Morning, love."
"Morning," Curt replied, not realising how quiet and high-pitched it came out.
"You look really pale. Are you okay? You're shaking-" Owen sat up, reaching out for Curt's hand, but he flinched away.
"Please- Don't. I'm sorry. This is all-" He sighed, struggling with what to say, "It's just too much too soon. I'm sorry. This all just feels so weird."
"It's okay. I get it. You don't have to apologise."
"I don't get it. Shouldn't I just be happy that you're back?"
Owen looked at him quizzically, "Curt, I was dead for four years. Things don't just suddenly go back to normal because I leave Wiggly's realm and come back to life. It's gonna take time."
"I guess you're right."
"Have I ever been wrong before? Ignoring the past four years, of course."
Curt involuntarily let out a laugh, "Not that I can remember."
"Exactly. Now, what do you want for breakfast?" Owen stood up, walking over to the kitchen, followed by Curt.
"I'm not really hungry."
"You didn't have anything for dinner last night, what do you want for breakfast?"
"I don't care. Whatever you want."
"Curt?" Owen raised his eyebrows in an attempt to look serious.
Curt rolled his eyes. "Okay, fine. Can we have pancakes?"
"See? It won't happen overnight, but things are starting to get more normal!"
Curt smiled, shaking his head, before sitting on a stool in the kitchen whilst Owen got out a frying pan.
"Are you sure you still know how to do this? Can't imagine cooking Wiggly breakfast was a top priority for you in the black and white."
"I may not have cooked in four years, but in the years we dated before I must have made pancakes about fifty million times. I could do it with my eyes closed."
"I'd like to test that theory. As long as I don't have to clean up the mess."
"You never would even if I went on at you relentlessly. Besides, who says there would be a mess to clean up?" Owen started measuring ingredients into a glass bowl.
"Don't get too cocky, Carvour."
"Now, where's the fun in that?"
"Actually you're right there. Proving you wrong isn't as fun when you're not getting overly confident in your own abilities."
"You say that as if you, or anyone for that matter, has ever actually proved me wrong before."
"Fine. Tomorrow morning. You're gonna regret this."
     "Oh, look who's getting cocky now!"
     "Except I have good reason."
     "We'll see about that."

~

(A/N: Sorry I didn't post for a while, I was trying to take a break from writing. It felt like it lasted a long time but was realistically less than a week lmaooo lockdown has completely ruined my perception of time. Anyway, I'm writing the last few chapters of this so I should be finished pretty soon which is kinda sad but there will be many more Curwen stories to come:) )