Page 43 of Doubts of the Egoist (Egoist #3)

The dark room welcomed him with silence, warm humidity, and the soothing scent of lavender soap.

He drew a deep breath, and the tension from forced socialization dissolved into the darkness as he exhaled.

He needed some time alone to come up with a proper explanation for his presence.

His heavy eyelids closed, plunging him into absolute darkness.

Seeking comfort in the warmth and solitude, he pressed his back against the door.

His head buzzed, feet throbbed, and a wave of fatigue washed over him, filling his limbs with lead. He didn’t want to move.

I’ll rest for a minute, he told himself, wishing that time would stop or the world would disappear. Just for a minute.

“Kuon?” Rick’s voice broke through the sphere of his emotional lethargy. A knock on the door rattled his shoulder blades, sending unpleasant vibrations down his nerves. “You okay?”

Kuon didn’t want to answer. In his warm cocoon, there was no room for thoughts about Yugo, Mio, or Rick; he was more than satisfied with that. There was only healing silence and darkness, nothing else. But the knocking repeated, demanding attention.

He struggled to open his eyes. His gaze drifted from one object to another as his eyes rolled back, making him nauseous. He groaned, feeling as if mere seconds had passed, but since Rick grew impatient, it had likely been minutes.

“I’m fine,” Kuon croaked, summoning all his strength to flip the switch. White, clinical light flared. He shrunk back and shielded his eyes with his forearm. A joint popped in his elbow, making him feel old, rusty, and ready for the junkyard.

After the sleepless marathon, his body threatened to shut down at any moment. The constant shift between cold and warm must have catalyzed his crushing exhaustion. The thought was of little consolation as he couldn’t shake himself free from this sinking stupor.

Peeling his eyelids open felt like an accomplishment. He had to lever himself away from the door with his elbow. A stabbing pain shot through his foot as he stumbled to the sink, leaving bloody smudges in his wake.

He intended to tend to his cuts, but lost his focus.

A tall glass holding a toothbrush and razor sat on an open shelf of the medicine cabinet, next to shaving cream, a copper comb, and soap.

Hanging beside them was a single hand towel.

All of Kuon’s belongings had disappeared as if Rick was trying to rid this place of all reminders of his former roommate.

Yet here I am again, like a plague . Kuon turned on the water and held his hands under the stream. Pleasant warmth seeped in, inviting him to linger and let the water wash away his suffocating guilt.

I wonder if Yugo would get rid of my things with such haste. A thought cleared the fog of his mind, reawakening the poisonous snakes of recent memories. Maybe he had already done it to avoid causing Mio any distress.

He snorted with a hint of contempt. Isn’t it funny?

He’s already moved on, but I’ve been struggling for years.

Fucker… If that’s all it took, why did he even look for me?

What did he expect? That playing with me would be as much fun as he remembered?

Or that I’d warm his bed, no questions asked? He must be gravely disappointed then…

Kuon cringed, remembering Yugo’s plan to introduce him to his circle and his own response.

Didn’t I tell him this is exactly what I want?

Then why am I so disappointed? I’ve always known Yugo only cares about himself.

All he needs is a doll that plays by his rules, obeys him, and satisfies his desires.

He doesn’t need anything he can’t control.

Even that game, Simon Says, only confirmed that. I didn’t expect anything else, did I?

His eyes grew hot. The vanity sink blurred.

This is stupid… Why am I so upset? When did I hit my head and start wanting something more from him?

Kuon grimaced, feeling like an idiot. Why did I even think it was a good idea to live with a man?

But his inflamed mind had already shifted to a more pressing question.

Can men even form an item? How can two natural rivals have a lasting, faithful relationship?

How yielding do one have to be to make it work when I’m already a fucking pushover, and yet it didn’t?

Maybe it’s impossible? What happens between men when the passion cools off, when there’s nothing left to hold the relationship together, no kids, no ties? Nothing, right?

Kuon wasn’t sure. He’d never talked to anyone about it, never bothered to research, thinking it pointless. Now, he wished he had.

Should I be happy with how it ended and that I was allowed to leave? It would have happened sooner or later, anyway. I didn’t expect it to last forever, did I? It’s good he burned out first. Otherwise it would have been a lot worse…

Kuon swallowed the coppery taste, losing his confidence. Even to himself, his thoughts didn’t sound convincing.

I wonder how much more I should have submitted to Yugo if it still wasn’t enough?

He wasn’t sure, but he realized, Yugo never made any concessions. He let Kuon win small, unimportant fights to appease him, but never truly gave in.

If I had submitted any more, what would have remained of me?

Kuon recalled the footage of himself writhing under his abuser’s touch and shuddered.

Maybe that’s what happened to Mio. He chased Yugo for so long that he no longer knows who he is without him.

Is that why he fights so hard for his attention?

Kuon made a face, unsure if he wanted to know the answer. Why am I still thinking about it? It’s none of my business.

A hand on his shoulder pulled him away from the sink. As if fighting through the thick fog, Kuon turned around, removing his hands from under the stream.

“I called three times,” Rick said in an apologetic voice. Kuon blinked, staring into the worried face drained of color. The tiny muscles around Rick’s eyes tightened as his pupils blew.

To see what caused such a reaction, Kuon glanced in the mirror.

The rims of his eyes were irritated, his short eyelashes clumped and glistening with moisture.

His hands were pink from wrists down, with pruney skin on his fingers.

Rick also examined him until their eyes inevitably met through the reflection.

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m fine. I just washed my face, that’s all.”

“You have been in here for forty minutes. Yet, you are still dressed, and your eyes are red.”

“I spaced out. I’ve been having trouble sleeping lately,” Kuon offered a half-truth, unable to think of a better excuse.

Despite the doctor’s orders, he rubbed the back of his hand over his eye to wipe away any trace of weakness.

The last thing he needed was for Rick to see him even more vulnerable than he already was. “Seriously, I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

Kuon licked his lips, then tugged at his hair, threading his fingers through it. He was too exhausted to keep up the facade. “Can we not do this right now? I’m tired, that’s all.”

Rick nodded, but his critical gaze traveled down Kuon’s body. He bit the inside of his cheek and his eyes glassed over; Kuon followed his gaze downward.

His jeans, a little too long for him, formed loose folds around his ankles.

After the two-hour walk, the fabric was fraying where the hems grazed the ground.

Dirt clung between his toes, and spruce needles stuck to his soles.

His right big toe was cut and bleeding. He could hardly make out the wound, but the dark, nearly black color suggested it was clogged with mud.

Resolution etched into Rick’s features as he stepped closer and said, “It needs to be cleaned and disinfected…”

Kuon took a step back. Things he’d accepted during his disability now felt awkward. “I’ll manage.”

“You had forty minutes,” Rick countered as he reached back over his head and pulled off his T-shirt. “I’m not leaving you, so get in the shower before the infection sets in.”

With no energy left to argue, Kuon shucked off his clothes except for his boxers and stepped into the shower. He turned on the water and pressed his back against the cold wall. Lifting a foot, he rubbed dirt off with his fingers, face turned away from the water jets.

Rick didn’t look at him as he grabbed a clean hand towel and joined him in the walk-in shower.

“Rick, this is really unnecessary,” Kuon protested, watching water soak into Rick’s gray sweatpants, leaving darker patches.

“Let me or you’ll never finish.” A familiar scent of mandarins and lavender wafted in as Rick crouched, took his foot in his hands, and pressed the soaked towel to it. The touch stung. Rusty-red streaks spread across the white terry cloth as Rick carefully wiped away dirt and blood.

Kuon leaned against the gray-tiled wall, exhausted. The initial embarrassment and awkwardness caused by the almost nonexistent distance between Rick’s face and his groin vanished as his friend kept his gaze on the task at hand.

Hot streams massaged his chest and shoulders as Kuon’s mind drifted. Hanging in limbo between recent memory and reality, he watched Rick’s ministrations as if from another dimension.

Mio’s eyes, burning with hatred … Rick’s serene composure… the uncompromising farewell … the skilled fingers tending to the cuts… the kiss … the almost intimate look in the black eyes… Yugo’s arms, gently holding the frail body … the thumb circling the prominent bone on the inside of his ankle.