#55

“……Insane.”

Feeling his cheeks flush for the first time in a long while, Tennessee consciously diverted his attention elsewhere. Amber’s message, to which he hadn’t yet replied, remained on the screen.

[Anything. Whatever you want to eat.]

As if he had been waiting, the reply came back immediately.

[Shall we do meatloaf? Or how about that Philly cheesesteak we had last time?]

He seemed to be referring to the food they had at the sandwich shop. Meatloaf took some effort, so takeout would be more convenient.

[Philly cheesesteak. You took my card, right?]

Because Tennessee had been adamant, Amber had to use his card not only for groceries but also for gas, eating out, and even the occasional daily necessities.

[Yes. I still can’t believe I’m using Tennessee’s card every time.]

Tennessee had been someone who never used a card because it left a payment record, but since he started working in the legitimate field of security for a multinational corporation, using a card had naturally become the norm. Although the name was different and he used a pseudonym, it was a change his past self would never have predicted.

[Is there anything else you need?]

In a way, it was a manner of speaking no different from anyone else’s, but to Tennessee, it felt as if he could hear Amber’s kind and soft voice. The form and nature were the same, but the meaning was different. To Tennessee, Amber and others had always been like that.

Sending a message saying that was enough, Tennessee turned around and discovered a piece of paper on the kitchen counter.

It was a poster with the Stars and Stripes on it.

Meeting for Veterans to Overcome PTSD –

Looking at the date, it was tomorrow. It seemed to be a support group within Chicago. He didn’t want to sit in a circle, listen to the stories of people he had no interest in, and spend time that held no meaning. It might be a great help to some, but not to him.

Tennessee folded the paper in half and set it back on the counter.

Not long after he finished the prepared breakfast, Amber returned. Tennessee, who was in his room, could hear every movement, but he stubbornly didn’t come out to greet him. It was because he had the somewhat foolish thought—one he’d never had before—that he was like a pet dog waiting for its owner to return.

The sound of the door opening, the rustling of bags, and the busy sounds of putting things into the pantry and refrigerator one by one filled the house.

Closing his eyes, Tennessee recalled the days he should have lived. And how starkly they contrasted with the present.

Do I have a fever? Tennessee, who had placed a hand on his own forehead, stubbornly did not leave the room until the presence subsided. As if knowing this perfectly, Amber did not call for him.

At lunchtime, it was a PTSD self-diagnosis form.

Have you ever experienced or witnessed a life-threatening event that caused extreme fear, helplessness, or horror?

The questionnaire began like that. Beside it, a neatly sharpened pencil sat waiting, as if out of kindness. The sight of the pencil lying so perfectly straight somehow provoked Tennessee’s streak of crookedness.

Just as Amber had done to his cigarettes, Tennessee snapped the pencil in half without effort and set it back down.

In the evening, there was a book.

[PTSD 101]

He didn’t even need to look at it. People say you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, but in this case, the cover was the content. Tennessee tossed it into the trash.

The clock pointed to 6:00. Amber had gone out, claiming there was something to attend to, and had not yet returned. Today, Amber had appeared and vanished in an instant, like a house-elf.

Had he made a mistake? Had he hurt him again?

Tennessee sank into thought. Amber wouldn’t have left PTSD-related materials for no reason. Perhaps last night, he had hurt Amber again. Perhaps that was why Amber was avoiding him.

How could he explain the bewilderment and rage he felt when Amber appeared with a cast on his finger? And yet, the perpetrator was none other than himself.

“I bought chimichangas, too.”

Amber appeared with Mexican food, calling it a late-night snack. Tennessee, who had been looking over the documents, walked out into the living room. Before greeting him, he slowly scanned Amber from head to toe. His gaze was keen and persistent, checking for any hidden bruises, wounds, or signs of pain.

“You had a good dinner, right?”

Amber mentioned that he had prepared steak and green beans before leaving. He then crossed over to the kitchen to check how much food was left.

“You ate a lot.”

Amber spoke without hiding his excitement, and Tennessee couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being treated like a newly adopted rescue dog.

“What about the book?”

Amber looked around the kitchen counter, and upon confirming that Tennessee had thrown the book away, he made a pained face.

“I paid four dollars for that.”

“I’ll give you forty.”

Amber sneered, saying he was paying his way out again.

“It’s a good thing Tennessee has plenty of money. Otherwise, you’d have to make up for the numerous wounds you’ve inflicted with sincere apologies.”

It was scathing, but the tone wasn’t that bad. Tennessee shot back with, “You flatter me.” A crestfallen Amber put the chimichangas in the refrigerator.

“Did I cross a line?”

He asked as he straightened up after putting the food away. He wasn’t being sarcastic; he was talking about the PTSD materials. Tennessee silently flipped through the documents. It was when he was more than halfway through signing them.

“No. …I’m just not in the mood.”

“I understand.”

It was a clean answer. When Tennessee looked at Amber, he was wearing a natural smile. It was just a plain, emotionless smile, but it brought to mind a scene that didn’t fit at all with the curve of his lips—a scene that looked like a crescent moon.

‘Haa… Ah, ahh, it feels so good.’

‘Amber.’

‘Tennessee… Ah, ngh, I’m coming, in front of Tennessee, hah…!’

Damn it.

Tennessee rubbed his forehead repeatedly. He had no idea why such a scene had suddenly come to mind.

* * *

Rehabilitation exercises left his entire body drained of strength. The rehab specialist told him not to overwork his body and to give it time to recover.

However, Tennessee did not neglect his exercise even after returning home. He had no hobbies, but if he had to pick one, it was exercising as if he were punishing his body.

Of course, Amber didn’t like Tennessee pushing himself to the limit. Throughout Tennessee’s workout, Amber remained restless by his side.

Amber tried to dissuade him with worried warnings several times, but Tennessee planned to return his body to the most optimal state possible. Even though he didn’t skip the exercises he could do in his spare time, he felt that the muscles in his body were not what they used to be. Even Amber had remarked, ‘You’re not as heavy as you were at first.’

Only after his T-shirt was soaked through with sweat did Tennessee finally stop exercising. Tossing aside the damp, clinging shirt, Tennessee let out a long breath. His chest heaved sharply.

“Want some water?”

As Tennessee, sprawled on the floor, nodded, Amber handed him some water.

As he sat up and reached out, the cup touched his lips. Tennessee slowly drank the water. The sound of him swallowing was unusually loud. His Adam’s apple moved up and down repeatedly. Water he failed to swallow trickled down from the corner of his mouth and gathered on his chin. The droplets mixed with sweat and fell onto his bare chest. The cold water hitting his skin, which was flushed with heat from the workout, felt refreshing and pleasant. The water on his bare chest flowed straight down his abdominals and soaked into his waistband.

“That’s enough.”

Tennessee said, pulling his head back. He lay back down on his back. Because he had held his breath to drink the water, his breathing still hadn’t settled.

Watching him, Amber reached out. A thumb, dry and warm unlike Tennessee’s, carefully touched his lips. Lacking the strength to stop him, Tennessee acquiesced as the thumb wiped away the water clinging to his lips and disappeared.

“Rest a bit more, then take a shower.”

He nodded at the gentle voice. He needed to shower, but an overwhelming drowsiness washed over him. It was because he had overtaxed his body, and the fact that Amber was beside him made it even worse.

I have to get up.

Uncharacteristically, Tennessee gradually succumbed to the temptation of laziness.

“Tennessee.”

“Mm.”

I should get up. Thinking that, Tennessee struggled to lift his body. As he did, Amber, who had been crouching, rose with him. When the man, well over six feet tall, stood up, Tennessee noticed something asserting itself quite strongly. It was Amber’s lower body. Though it was beneath a layer of clothing, it was visibly enlarged.

Tennessee wiped the sweat from the corners of his eyes.

Amber had been blatantly aroused by the sight of him panting during his workout.

“Kiss me.”

I should avoid this.

Right now, we… Thinking that they needed to cut off this ambiguous relationship, Tennessee nonetheless faced Amber’s body heat, which had now become familiar.

Their lips parted, and a warm tongue pushed into his mouth. Entwining with Tennessee’s tongue, it invaded his mouth softly, as if pleading, as if melting. The wet, squelching sounds seeped erotically into his ears. Panting, Amber grabbed Tennessee’s shoulders and pulled him into an embrace. Even the way he hugged him was pitiful and cautious.

“Huu…”

The two let out ragged sighs. Their eyes met. Tennessee became afraid to even imagine how he looked in Amber’s eyes.