What Remains

Chapter 26

Our Game Of Make-Belief
I cannot part with you—
I am you.

Make-belief. That's what this all feels like, some fucked up game of make-belief. Him and I, sitting across from each other at this wooden dining table. This dirty floral table runner and these off-coloured dishes with food smacked onto them. I have to ignore the constant nauseous feeling gnawing at my stomach— fake a smile and face the man across from me with content. Pretend, Quinn. I have to, or else it won't work. The one time I need to trigger myself into something, I can't. I can't muster up anything. It's all just so.. quiet. I can't hear them. It's just Kenny's voice, humming, swirling around in my mind—
"Valentine, you need to eat." Or it's the real Kenny. The one I knew on the first day wouldn't bother to mention my eating.
I glance up at him while jabbing at a piece of chicken. I don't think it's seasoned well, and it looks kind of raw. "I'm not that hungry." I mumble in reply. The mashed potatoes don't look all that enticing either.
There's a pause. Either Kenny's either going to scold me, or move on completely. "You've been off lately." He mentions in a firm tone. Here we go.
"I don't think so." I cock a brow upwards, feigning confusion. My fork slowly meets the plate as I place it down.
Kenny doesn't really have an expression on his face— well, he never really does, no matter what. I guess it's because of wearing the mask for so long, he's never really had a reason to make a face at anything with it on. "You've been so quiet. Is something bothering you?" His tone is so convincing that I almost believed we could work this all out. How compelling.
I shake my head softly, "No. I'm sorry if I seem off, but I really don't notice anything different." I respond, meeting his eyes. Stop prodding.
Kenny holds the stare for a short while before placing down his fork. "Something's wrong, and you're hiding it from me." His expression drops a little as he leans forward.
I sigh, and avert my gaze to my plate. "I'm not hiding anything from you. I don't understand—"
"Look me in the eyes." Kenny cuts me off swiftly.
I look up reluctantly, "I'm not hiding anything from you." I pause, expecting a reply. Nothing comes, so I take a deep breath and shut my eyes, "What can I do to stop you from thinking like that?" I ask, letting my head hang slightly lower.
Kenny's hand reaches out to my own. "Stop acting like I'm your enemy." He mutters softly.
I pull my hand out from under his, and place it into my lap. "I trust you more than you think." I remark.
"I don't believe that. You're not showing me that's true." Kenny shakes his head. He's going to snap, isn't he? He's going to stand up, and take me by the wrist to my room— that one day, all over again.
I lean back a little. "Then tell me how I can." I cross my arms over my stomach.
"Let me love you." He answers so quickly it catches me off-guard.
My brows furrow, and I end up looking at him like he's stupid. "I'm sorry?"
"Let me love you. No one else other than me is going to love you because you're unlovable." Kenny spits out uncontrollably like a sputtering engine. He falls silent after seeming to realise his words.
My jaw falls open as I try to answer, but I just.. can't. I can't say anything, despite how hard I try to force my voice out. I can't deny him— is it because I don't want to? Do I want him to convince me to stay?
"...I'll be outside." I push myself up from my chair, and rush to the kitchen counter. I grab the pack of cigarettes and the lighter from the empty fruit bowl before storming outside.
God. God damnit. I slam the door shut behind me, and hobble out into the pouring rain. Luckily, I'm safe from being drenched under the extended roof. And this time, I can actually ignite the lighter thanks to the lack of wind. I watch the flame for a second, letting it flicker. I could just.. I could set this place ablaze and forget everything that happened. I could, but I won't. The bright oranges and yellows reflect off my hand, and it sends a sense of calm through me.
I draw a lone cigarette out of its box and light it before drawing the stick up to my lips. I stuff the snuffed lighter into my pocket before plucking my lips free of the cigarette. Smoke flows up from my mouth, hitting the roof before dissipating into nothing. It's so unfittingly tranquil and quiet here. No cars, hardly any wind, no children screaming and laughing. Serene. I can't picture this place as a home, no matter how hard I try. This can't be a place where children can be brought up, I can't raise anything here.
I bring the cigarette to my lips again, and take in a large huff of smoke that scratches the back of my throat.
During the quiet moment, I hear the door open behind me. I don't feel like talking, so I don't meet Kenny with a greeting. I let him join me in silence. His presence lingers behind me for a minute before I feel arms wrap around my shoulders. I offer the foul-tasting cigarette to him, and he obliges, taking it up and pressing it to his lips. I hear his exhale beside my ear, long and drawn, before the stick gets dropped and squished on the wooden porch. It makes me realise I didn't put shoes on. Despite how my eyes sting from the rising smoke, I force myself to stare down at my feet as I shove my hands into my sweater pocket, feeling and flipping the lighter in my hands. A soft, drawn-out kiss is pressed to my temple before Kenny's head falls to the nape of my neck.
He sighs. "Your hair is getting longer." He remarks.
"Yeah." I answer quietly. My hand clenches tighter around the lighter in my pocket.
"Are you okay?" Kenny asks unsurely.
I shrug him off, and turn to look at him. So concerned, so meek. Such a different person than before.
My eyebrows raise lightly. "What if I betray you?" My tone is high, almost hurt sounding, "Are you not worried about that yourself?" My expression falters as I see his eyes widen a bit. He doesn't reply. "I'm sick, Kenny," My tongue halts in my mouth. I give a prolonged and tight blink before forcing myself to open my eyes. "I'm sick." I reiterate. I don't mean to lean forward, but I do, pressing for an answer despite not wanting one. Spit it out.
"You have medications at home, don't you?" Kenny asks softly, curling a piece of my blonde hair behind my ear. Gentle, reluctant.
I purse my lips. This is what I wanted. This is what I wanted, an out, and now that it's finally right in front of me, I can't muster up anything. I need to take this. But what if I mess up? What if this doesn't go how I think it will?
I need to try. I need to try.
"I do." I answer with a slow nod.
Kenny's lips draw in a short smile, "We can go get them, if that's what you'd like."
I grimace, "You trust me?" I reply in a quiet murmur.
Kenny nods slowly, welcomingly, "I do. Of course I do."
I copy his nod, then avert my gaze to the porch. So, so oblivious. Smitten. I'm not all that special— I don't know what he sees in me, but at least it's been keeping me alive.
Kenny's fingers meet my chin, and pull my face upwards to look at him. His expression is sincere, commanding my attention. His hazel eyes anchor down on my face, and his lips purse, "Can you make it two more days?" He asks in a mumble.
"Yeah... yeah, I can." I agree. I hope my slight grimace doesn't show through in a way that will make him take his decision back.