Talk To Me

27. Push Me Away

"Is there any food left? This place is a barren wasteland," Kind muttered as he rummaged through the refrigerator, sending ingredients scattering across the kitchen counters. The mess he created didn't seem to bother Wale in the slightest. He was already sprawled on the floor, feeling the warmth of the spirits coursing through his veins. A few more drinks, Wale reckoned, and Kind would start talking, just as he had during their last drunken encounter. And that, of course, was what Wale was looking forward to.

Kind, however, was handling himself better than expected. Caution in every move, measured sips rather than gulps. Wale shut his eyes, letting the liquor slide down his throat, fueling that growing desire he had long suppressed. He could feel his grip on self-control beginning to loosen.

"Hey, maybe you should drink some water?" Kind's voice cut through his haze. Wale snapped his eyes open to see Kind extending a glass of water toward him.

"What are you doing?" Wale asked, half bemused, half irritated. The water was the last thing he wanted.

"I'm giving you water, you fool. It's rather unseemly to get drunk after just a few bottles," Kind chided, rolling his eyes. Wale shook his head in protest. Water? In the middle of a good time? Absolutely not. He had other plans for the night.

"How much water have you had?" Wale asked, suspicious.

"Plenty," Kind replied, lifting the glass to his lips.

In a quick motion, Wale knocked the glass from Kind's hand, splashing water all over Kind's shirt.

"What the—!" Kind exclaimed, glaring at Wale as he tried to stand, only to stumble back onto the floor. "This is where I call it a night. I'm done, Wale. You can finish the rest by yourself."

"So soon?" Wale slurred, crawling closer to him. "The night is still young, and you've barely had anything. I'm tired, K. So tired of life, of everything. I just want to... let it all go." Wale scooted next to Kind, resting his head on his shoulder in a moment of vulnerability. Kind patted him absentmindedly, the gesture reminiscent of their younger days when Wale had withdrawn from the world.

"Well, this is unexpected," Kind murmured. "I never thought I'd see you, of all people, in such a state."

"Stop making fun of me," Wale muttered, the alcohol working its way through his system. "If I'm depressed, I'm clearly not drunk enough. That's your fault, K. You're supposed to be drinking with me."

Kind laughed lightly but refused. "One of us has to be responsible, and I've nominated myself for that honour. Besides, I'm in a good mood. Hungry, maybe, but not drunk."

Wale reached for another bottle, but Kind intercepted him. "I can't," Kind said firmly. "Last time we drank together, I kissed you and couldn't even remember it. I don't want to risk that again."

Wale felt a pang of disappointment, though he hid it. He poured another shot, swallowing it quickly, the burn intensifying his need to hear Kind speak his truths.

"Why can't I call you 'Bunny,'?" Wale asked suddenly, a soft smile playing on his lips.

Kind froze, his face turning serious. The nickname carried history—history that Wale wasn't allowed to invoke lightly. Wale noticed the change in Kind's expression and felt a strange sobriety settle over him, his mood darkening once more.

"Let's make a deal," Wale said, setting the bottle down. "Since calling you 'Bunny' is such a big ask, I'll make it worth your while. In return, you tell me your secret, whatever it is. I'll believe whatever you say."

Kind hesitated. He thought of Todo, the weight of his current relationship sitting heavily on his conscience. This was a dangerous game, one that could end in betrayal. But the lure of hearing Wale's long-held secret, the one about his parents, was too much to resist.

He took a long drink from the bottle, forcing himself to relax. "Alright," Kind said quietly. "I'll listen."

Wale's face grew pale, his eyes distant as he began to speak, his voice laced with the past. "I was seven when it happened. Frank dropped me off at home after a stay at his place. My parents were supposed to be home that day, but when I arrived, the house was quiet. I went to their room, and they were under the covers, sleeping—or so I thought."

Kind's stomach tightened as Wale continued, the room growing eerily still.

"I didn't want to disturb them, so I climbed into bed with them. I fell asleep there, waiting for them to wake me up. But they never did. When I woke up, the room smelled horrible. I didn't understand it at first. I called out to them, but they didn't respond. Eventually, I pulled back the covers..." Wale's voice faltered, but he pushed on. "They were already dead. And I'd been sleeping beside them the whole time."

Wale paused, his hands trembling as he reached for the bottle, downing what remained. "Frank found me, called the police, but the whole thing was hushed up. And then my relatives turned on me. They called me a murderer, even though I was just a kid. They wouldn't even let me attend the funeral. I lost my voice after that. I couldn't speak, couldn't be around anyone. I lived in that darkness for years, until... well, until you."

The silence that followed was suffocating. Kind's heart ached with the weight of Wale's words. Without thinking, he pulled Wale into a tight embrace, holding him close as if his arms alone could shield him from the pain.

Wale tried to pull away, but Kind only tightened his grip. "Stop fighting it. Just stay like this," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

But the moment was short-lived. Wale, overwhelmed by the alcohol and the emotion, suddenly retched, vomiting all over Kind's shoulder.

Without a word, Wale staggered to his feet, grabbed a mop, and began cleaning up the mess. Kind watched him in silence, his mind reeling from everything he had just heard. "I'm sorry, Wale," Kind whispered, his voice barely audible. "I'm so, so sorry."

Later, when Kind stumbled upstairs, Wale found him lying on the floor, too dizzy to stand. Wale lifted him effortlessly and carried him into the bathroom. "Take a shower," Wale said softly. "You'll feel better."

As Kind stood under the warm spray, his mind drifted, replaying everything Wale had told him. It was too much to process, the weight of it pressing down on him. But one thought kept surfacing, over and over: I've never truly understood how much Wale has suffered.

When he emerged from the shower, naked and still slightly dazed, Wale was waiting for him. There was something different about the way Wale looked at him now. It wasn't the playful teasing of their usual banter. It was deeper, more intense.

"You still haven't told me your secret, K... Bunny," Wale whispered, stepping closer. Before Kind could respond, Wale closed the distance between them, pulling him into a fierce embrace. "I know the truth. I know you're in love with me."

Kind froze, his heart racing as Wale's words sank in. There was no going back now. The truth was out.

"I'm sorry," Wale murmured, his voice raw. "I'm sorry for all the pain I've caused you."

Kind tried to pull away, but Wale held him tight. "You know nothing about being with a man," Kind muttered, his voice shaking with fear, anger, and something else he couldn't quite place. "This isn't a joke, Wale. You can't just... you can't do this."

But Wale wasn't joking. He leaned in, his lips brushing against Kind's, and then they were kissing—deep, desperate, and filled with years of unspoken longing.

"I love you, K," Wale whispered against his lips, his voice thick with emotion. "I always have."

Kind, overwhelmed, tried to push him away again. "You don't know what you're doing. You're not—"

"Then push me away," Wale challenged, his voice a low growl. "If you don't want this, push me away."

But Kind couldn't.