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. She was already sprawled on the floor, feeling the warmth of the spirits coursing through her 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 her eyes, letting the liquor slide down her throat, fueling that growing desire she had long suppressed. She could feel her grip on self-control beginning to loosen.

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

"What are you doing?" She asked, half bemused, half irritated. The water was the last thing she 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, and Wale shook her head in protest. Water? In the middle of a good time? Absolutely not. She 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 it 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." She scooted next to Kind, resting her head on his shoulder in a moment of vulnerability. Kind patted her absentmindedly, the gesture reminiscent of their younger days when Wale had withdrawn from the world.

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

"Stop making fun of me," she muttered, the alcohol is working its way through her 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 towards Kind, but he intercepted her. "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 she hid it. She poured another shot, swallowing it quickly, the burn intensifying her need to hear Kind speak his truths.

"Why can't I call you 'Bunny,'?" Wale asked suddenly, a soft smile playing on her 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 her, her mood darkening once more.

"Let's make a deal," she said, setting the bottle down. "Since calling you 'Bunny' is such a big ask, I'll make it worth your while. What do you want from me?"

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. "How about you call me...that, as long as you tell me your secret instead. How you lost your family."

Wale took a long drink from the bottle, forcing herself to relax. Her face grew pale, her eyes distant as she began to speak, her 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 horrific. 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 she pushed on. "They were already dead. And I'd been sleeping beside them the whole time."

Wale paused, her hands trembling as she 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 child. 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 her into a tight embrace, holding her close as if his arms alone could shield her 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, she staggered to her feet, grabbed a mop, and began cleaning up the mess. Kind watched her in silence, his mind reeling from everything he had just heard. "I'm sorry, Wale," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I'm so, so sorry."

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

As Wale stood under the warm spray, her mind drifted, replaying everything she had told Kind. It was too much to process, the weight of it pressing down on her, but one thought kept surfacing, over and over: no one will never truly understood how much she has suffered.

When she emerged from the shower, still slightly dazed, Kind was waiting for her. There was something different about the way he looked at her now. It wasn't the playful teasing of their usual banter. It was deeper, more intense, as if he pitied her, and that angered her.

"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 K. 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. "I think you are completely intoxicated," Kind muttered, his voice shaking with fear, anger, and something else he couldn't quite place. "If this is a joke, it's a bad one."

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

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

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

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

But Kind couldn't.