Enlai sat on the porch stairs in the backyard, his fingertips tracing the rough wood grain. The night was still, save for the distant murmur of crickets. But within his chest, turmoil reigned. His mind was a storm, with thoughts crashing into one other like waves crashing on jagged rocks along the shore.
Too many things ran through his mind simultaneously. And Yoshi’s name rang in his mind like an eerie chant. He had been missing for three days now. Enlai’s heart clenched, and he wondered if he’d ever see that smile again. Their squad had been granted a week off to get control of their chaotic mental state.
But sanity had left him. His thoughts kept crashing against each other, each one a jagged rock tearing at his life. He’d seen too much, done too much. The weight of it threatened to crush him.
Yuhok was close, gardening. He had got a tulip sapling and the grown it right on the raw soil they had unearthed four days ago. Enlai’s eyes were locked onto him. Yuhok was so normal, like nothing had happened at all. They hadn’t buried a body, like they had not sinned.
Half of him wished to be like Yuhok; big, protective and strong. The other half however felt pathetic and painful. The second half seemed to lead.
Enlai couldn’t forget. No. The dead body. They had buried it hastily, under the old oak tree near the fence where a tulip sapling was growing. The stale blood of the corpse was a fertilizer to those flowers now. It would grow feeding of the decomposing flesh and bone.
The soil had clung to his hands, cold and damp, as he’d shovelled dirt over the lifeless form. He’d done it to protect himself. But the guilt was a relentless spectre, haunting his every waking moment.
Enlai wondered whether the tulip would bloom crimson, its petals reflecting the anguish he felt within. And as the crickets resumed their chorus, he knew that the night would never be quiet again. Not for him. Not after what they’d done.
Breathe, he told himself. Just breathe.
The grip of fear tightened around his chest, its claws sinking in deep. His heart raced, and the world seemed to spin around him. The porch light flickered, and Enlai's mind twisted with dark thoughts, blending images of Yoshi's terror-stricken face with that of a lifeless body. His stomach churned, and a bitter taste filled his mouth.
No!
Enlai’s breaths came in ragged bursts. He pressed his palms against his temples, as if trying to hold his fractured thoughts together. The night seemed to close in, walls narrowing, air thinning. He was trapped—between the past and the present, between loyalty and guilt.
Inhale. Exhale.
The darkness was unyielding, constantly whispering promises of being exposed, of justice finally catching up. The massive oak tree loomed in his mind, its roots extending towards him, pulling him down into the soil. He could almost sense the earth's dampness and the flavor of decay.
And then it happened: a full-blown anxiety attack. His chest clenched as he strained for breath. Tears obscured his eyes as he swayed back and forth, searching for relief. The weight of his secrets threatened to crush him completely.
He tried the 4-7-8 technique, inhaling for four seconds, holding for seven, and exhaling for eight. But the numbers blurred, and panic surged anew. His throat tightened, and tears welled up, unbidden. Why can’t I just be normal?
Enlai’s mind played tricks. Shadows danced around him, morphing into scary shapes. The porch creaked, and he flinched, half-expecting a monster to emerge from beneath. Rationality battled with irrationality, and Enlai clung to the fraying thread of sanity.
Yuhok turned abruptly, soil-streaked hands still clutching the trowel.
Enlai’s face was pale, eyes wide with panic, and his breaths came in ragged bursts. Yuhok’s heart clenched; he recognized the signs all too well. Without hesitation, Yuhok stepped toward Enlai.
“Yuhok, body. Dead body.”
“Look at me,” he said firmly. “You’re safe.”
Enlai’s gaze flickered, torn between panic and exhaustion. His fingers dug into the bench, knuckles white. Yuhok pressed his body against him. “Breathe with me,” he instructed. “Inhale. Hold. Exhale.”
“Tell me three things you can see, Lai,” he prompted, his hand steady on Enlai’s shoulder.
Enlai’s breath hitched. His left hand gripped Yuhok’s right in a strong grip. “Oak,” he stammered, gaze darting to the tree, “t-tulip and… soil.”
“Good,” Yuhok murmured. “Now tell me three things you can hear.”
Enlai’s mind raced. He strained to listen beyond the chaos within him. “Crickets,” he managed, “their chirping. Wind rustling leaves. And… your heartbeat.”
Yuhok's heart was steady, the only stable thing in his surroundings. Enlai leaned in closer, his ears focused on the beat, sensing it aligning with his own erratic heartbeat. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. The porch beneath him seemed to soften.
“One more,” Yuhok said, tenderness etching lines around his eyes. “What’s one thing you can touch?”
Enlai’s trembling hand found Yuhok’s again. His skin was rough, yet comforting. “Your hand,” he whispered. “It’s real.”
Yuhok’s agreement came without hesitation. “It is,” he affirmed, fingers intertwining with Enlai’s. “And so are you.”
Enlai smile but his fatigue was evident. His eyes drooped, and Yuhok realized he needed to rest. He gently removed his jacket and draped it over Enlai's shoulders.
“Sleep, my Lai.” He smiled, picking him up in his arms and headed inside.
…
The tires squealed, biting into the road. The car shuddered as its momentum arrested. The driver’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel.
The night was inky. The moon however defied the others but it’s light didn’t seem enough to win over the night. Yuhok stepped through the heavy oak door and the brass bell above it chimed. The air inside was thick with the scent of freshly ground coffee, a comforting aroma that seemed to defy the ominous atmosphere outside.
Hollow brew.
Despite the trauma, leaving Enlai alone wasn’t the smartest move. However, things were going according to plan, so Yuhok considered it a victory.
Mazikeen stood behind the counter. Her eyes, dark as the night, locked onto Yuhok as he approached. A half-smile tugged at the corners of her lips, revealing just enough teeth to be unsettling. She was a keeper of secrets, and the espresso machine hummed in harmony with her presence. Its metallic song threaded through the room, punctuated by the occasional hiss of steam.
The café always felt like home to him. The same old blood red walls, the scraped white doors and the huge portrait of a horned devil on those walls.
Yuhok nodded in acknowledgment, his footsteps muffled by the threadbare rug. The café was empty, save for one figure huddled in the farthest corner. Nick. He sat there, bathed in the eerie glow of a flickering candle, tracing patterns on the scarred tabletop with his index finger. He still had the same clad in a charcoal-grey coat, seemed to absorb light
Yuhok made his way opposite Nick, sitting down with an authority. The moon, still visible through the window, watched with its one unblinking eye.
“Enlai,” Yuhok began. His voice seemed to echo off the cracked plaster walls. “He had an anxiety attack.”
Nick’s eyes flickered, and he smirked, leaning back in his chair. His fingers drummed a rhythm only he understood. “Enlai,” he repeated, testing the syllables. “He’ll know everything soon.”
Yuhok leaned closer, his breath fogging the glass pane of the cubicle. “Nick,” he whispered, “was the body Yoshi’s?”
Nick’s smirk
widened, revealing teeth that gleamed like polished bone.
“Does it matter? In this world, bodies are borrowed, traded, and discarded.
Yours, mine, Yoshi’s—they’re all just vessels. Now if you may, my dear brother,
I have things to attend to.”
As Mazikeen arrived
with the tray holding three steaming cups of coffee, she sensed Nick's eyes on
her, a familiarity she had grown accustomed to. Setting the tray down on the
table, she turned towards Nick, feeling the weight of his gaze on her. His eyes
danced over every inch of her figure, lingering on the curve of her hip and the
cascade of her dark hair. With a mischievous smile, Mazikeen dropped onto his
lap.
The world around them stopped, all still. The two then headed to share a kiss,
one with tongues, saliva and greed. Nick's hands roamed over Mazikeen's body,
his touch igniting a fire within her that she couldn't contain. She arched into
his embrace, her own hands grasping at his shoulders, pulling him closer. Nick’s
hands soon grabbed her breasts in greed, satiating his hunger and lust and
Mazikeen seemed equally hungry.
A minute or two of
sounds and slurps, until Yuhok coughed.
“Get a room!”
Nick wiped his mouth, “Your taste swings like mine and you are no better than me, brother.”
Mazikeen simply sat there in Nick’s lap, half-enjoying, half-snarky as she spoke, “Do you want me to go for the next?”
“If you may. A girl please.” Yuhok couldn’t stop his grin.
“And please check in with father. He has some new Latin coded document.”
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