chapter 5
Aaron looks at Kris, his heart thumping like a drum during a lion dance, and asks, "Why?" Why does he get a kiss?
Why do the dishes target him with a kiss of all things?
This is the one burning question that swirls in his mind like a stubborn bee in a flower shop.
It isn't the kiss that puzzles him;
it's that the man he calls husband has just left him here all alone, his thoughts spiraling into a whirlpool of gloomy chatter,
like some old sad man who spilled tea in a quiet tea house.
And there, in his sad emotional doll ways, Kris appears.
It feels as if his presence is nothing more than some unwelcome gust of wind, and Aaron swallows hard, tasting the bitter flavor of rejection.
Partners for life, to love until the end—these were the vows. At least Kris is there—if his senior's lifespan doesn't run out, that is.
"Why the kiss?" he ponders out loud, his voice thick with confusion.
"Why do you kiss me?" He shoots a glare at Kris, filled with emotions bubbling up like hot soup. "And why do you have to sneak off like a ninja after leaving me?"
The question hangs in the air, like an uninvited cousin at a wedding,
yet he speaks out with questions thudding in his heart like a bass drum. He knows he's a "senirips,"
clinging to that whenever he can, but he just couldn't help it; he's got to let his heart spill. Otherwise,
he breaks apart inside—a hidden tragedy that no one around him notices. He hurts and wants to let the person who causes this hurt know exactly how he feels.
Though he is not certain he will get the response he wants, at least someone will know just how deep the ache runs within him.
Long ago, Aaron turned his face away from Kris, breaking the kiss like a fragile egg underfoot.
He does not want to be depressed or let anyone put him in such a state again.
He feels that his marriage is like a long bridge stretching over two cities,
and he does not know what lies on the other side. Deep within, he hopes for a spark in this frozen relationship.
If Kris wants just a blank marriage,
he wishes Kris would come straight to the point instead of giving wild and fanciful hopes to a man like a naughty child flying a kite in a storm.
Aaron believes in love, the real kind, not just some fairytale romance.
The books he reads are full of stories about "senirips" and how their adventures end with happy endings
. But the man across from him, Kris, seems too calm,
like an iceberg floating in a desolate sea, and this calm yanks at Aaron's sanity.
No more than half a day in this new place, already dog-tired, he misses home—where at least he had his weird friends, Mark and Jail, his two servants who were more like friends.
"Why do you think so much? Don't think too much; you don't have to," Kris says, not even bothering to raise his eyes to meet Aaron's,
his handsome face still cool but somehow giving off a sense of warmth.
"Right, I understand," Aaron replies coldly, as if suddenly realizing some bad truth, and he does his best to protect his heart from further disappointment.
"Don't be like this, my senirips…" Kris whispers, the words fleeting as the wind; his ocean-blue eyes, which seem so very careless, pierce through Aaron's mask.
Aaron gazes at Kris, feeling almost as if he is staring at a stone wall—unyielding, emotionless.
"Ah, fine, my dear husband—I won't force myself to go against your wishes,"
he says, putting on all the energy of a tired fighter who has succumbed but wants his voice to be heard out there, even if only a little.
"Is there anything else you want, Kris?" Aaron says, reaching up to the surface of frustration.
"I don't like your body sticking to mine; please leave," he snaps, irritation tangling in his voice.
"Or shall I leave the bathtub for you?" he adds, his face unsweet while saying so, a cold breeze blowing through the conversation.
Kris smirks, leaning tauntingly closer. "Your body…," he teases, his eyes glinting slightly. "All down below… everything is mine."
"Pushing me away? Oh no, you can't, my dear love senirips," he shoots back,
his breath mingling with Aaron's, making it all the more unbearable.
In the midst of all that, those blue eyes shift, firing up like a wok sizzling with hot oil,
and Aaron can't shake off the feeling that he is playing with fire.
Aaron feels Kris's cold demeanor only deepens his belief that this is nothing but a wretched nightmare.
"Have a good night, until later." With that, Kris exits the room, leaving Aaron to stare at the room,
A room he was supposed to be happy leaving in it.
Exhaling slowly, he picks up a few books and tries to flip through them,
all in desperate bids to rivet his attention on anything but his husband.
The words defeat him, though, and finally, at the end of it all,
exhausted, he closes his eyes as if against the heartache that has risen before him like some kind of unwanted guest, and eventually falls asleep.