Hiss…
The sound was so incongruous that Yuhok wondered if it had taken elocution
lessons from a disgruntled snake. He leaned closer, squinting at the creature.
“Lower your voice hissypants, your father is sleeping!”
The mantis’s response? A disdainful flick of its foreleg and a hiss. Clearly, it preferred anonymity. Yuhok decided to play along. After all, he’d once debated philosophy with a particularly opinionated cricket.
Enlai lay there, eyes closed, listening to this untimely radio show.
“Impressive,” Yuhok continued, leaning on the table. “But you do realise this is a cage, right? Not a trendy insect co-working space?”
The mantis tapped the bars again, as if emphasising its point. Yuhok half-expected it to pull out a tiny laptop and start typing an email: Subject: Urgent—Release Required for Creative Juices.
“Are you guarding your father?”
Yuhok had returned home unexpectedly, a day earlier than planned and the little creature was wide awake, possibly awaiting its arrival. His arrival was a grumpy surprise for Enlai, like finding a forgotten treasure buried in the sand, but now he was covered in the same sand, and it was in his shoes, and—well, you get the idea.
“Stop harassing him.”
Yuhok turned to find Enlai looking at him, body raised on
his elbow as he stared at Yuhok. Enlai had been half-asleep, wrapped in a
blanket, lost in dreams of distant lands and mythical creatures. But when the
front door creaked open, his heart stirred awake, recognising the rhythm of
Yuhok’s footsteps. And he been enjoying the mantis-man camaraderie.
“Guess what I brought?” Yuhok whispered, holding up a crinkly paper bag. The
scent of butterscotch wafted from it, and Enlai’s eyes widened.
So, now, at 2 a.m., Enlai sat cross-legged on the bed. His unruly hair caught
the moonlight, turning it into a halo. Beside him, Yuhok, diligent and curious,
held a spoon full of butterscotch ice cream in one hand and the other busy
matting his boyfriend’s hair—a forbidden indulgence in a place of ascetic
discipline.
“Butterscotch? So basic!” Enlai huffed, stabbing the spoon in the ice-cream tub
for the eleventh bite if Yuhok hadn’t missed one.
Content with the tamed curls Yuhok leaned back against the
pillows, his laughter bubbling up. “Then stop eating, Mr. Han!” Yuhok retorted,
reaching for the tub. But Enlai was faster, pulling it just out of his reach.
From the corner of his eyes, Yuhok caught sight of a few stray magazines at the
foot of the bed and a heap of his stolen shirts dumped on the nearby chair.
Tomorrow he’d have to sort through them, but for now, he was content.
The room they shared was modest, its timeworn floorboards creaking underfoot. A single window framed the moon—a silver crescent that spilled its magic across the room. The air smelled of aged floors and the faintest hint of incense, as if the very walls held their breath.
The sheets, freshly laundered, cradled them—a blend of cotton and nostalgia. Enlai’s side was slightly rumpled, a testament to his restless nature, while Yuhok’s remained creaseless—a librarian’s touch, precise and deliberate.
His fingers brushed Yuhok’s, and suddenly, the ice cream seemed forgotten. “I’ll stop,” he whispered, his voice low, “if you promise to give something in return.”
“Something?” he echoed, almost catching the hint. “What do you want in return?”
Enlai leaned in, his lips dangerously close to his. “Just this,” he murmured, capturing his mouth in a kiss—a sweet collision of flavours, like butterscotch and moonlight.
The texture was a dance of contrasts: soft and urgent, like the pages of an ancient manuscript unfurling under moonlight. Yuhok’s stubble grazed Enlai’s skin, a delicious friction that sent shivers down their spines. Their breaths mingled—a sigh and a gasp, a secret shared between two souls who dared to defy time.
But just as quickly as it had begun, Enlai pulled away, his eyes reflecting a mixture of desire and reproach. "Time, please!" he chided, trying to inject a note of reprimand into his tone, though his eyes betrayed the truth of his feelings. “How shameless, Mr. Lee! Always waiting for the opportunity.”
Yuhok’s laughter bubbled forth, a melody that danced through the room. “Shut up!” he retorted, pulling Enlai back into their shared orbit. “You started it and enjoyed it. I was doing exactly what you were aiming for.”
And there, nestled in its twiggy throne, the mantis watched. Its antennae quivered, attuned to the delicate symphony—the soft press of lips, the whispered promises. Perhaps it wondered why humans revelled in such intimate exchanges when they could be grooming their spiky forelegs or practicing insect yoga.
“Huh,” Enlai teased, going for another scoop of the ice cream, “when I leave for Podlazice for a month, you will miss me.”
“That confident, huh?”
“We have already cracked the deal, baby; one more step and we will be revealing the truth behind those monks!”
Sneaking another scoop of the melted ice cream, Yuhok urged. “Lai, do you think the monks of Podlazice were hiding something?”
Enlai raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a mischievous smile. “Why, my dear librarian, what makes you say that?”
Yuhok leaned in, his breath warm against his cheek. “Think about it. The monastery was ancient, its walls thick with secrets. And those hooded monks? They’re not just chanting hymns—they’re decoding ancient texts, plotting clandestine meetings.”
Enlai chuckled. “And what do they seek, my clever Yuhok? Hidden treasure? Forbidden knowledge?”
He leaned even closer, her lips brushing his ear. “Immortality, Enlai. They might have discovered the elixir of life, hidden in plain sight. That’s why they meditated so fervently. Or they’re communing with the gods.”
“More like communing with the devil,” Enlai muttered, shifting in Yuhok’s lap. The ice cream tub balanced precariously between them.
“Really?” Yuhok sounded genuinely curious as he passed Enlai another spoonful of butterscotch ice cream. “And what’s this about a Devil?”
Enlai’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “Ah, the infamous Herman the Recluse,” he said, savouring the sweetness of the moment. “Legend whispers that he was to be walled up alive for some treachery, but somehow, he found a way out. A deal with the devil, perhaps?”
Yuhok leaned in, intrigued. “A deal? What kind of deal?”
Enlai’s grin widened. “Profound, forbidden knowledge,” he replied. “That was his currency. So, he struck a bargain with the monastery: his life spared in exchange for a book—a tome of secrets, bound in leather and ink in a single night. They say he toiled feverishly, but the end remained elusive.”
“And then?” Yuhok pressed, curiosity dancing in his eyes.
“He couldn’t complete it in one night,” Enlai explained. “So, he made another pact—this time with the devil himself. The devil lent his quill, and Herman penned the rest. The result? The Devil’s Bible.”
Yuhok raised an eyebrow. “Just because the devil helped, it’s the devil’s work?”
“Uhuh. Codex Gigas to be precise,” Enlai confirmed.
“And who has been working on this for Podlazice case, Lai?” Yuhok asked again.
“Lila! She even has all the data. She deciphers those ancient texts, translates coded messages, and brews her coffee with a dash of moon dust.”
Yuhok raised an eyebrow. “Coffee with moon dust? Is she communing with spirits in the astral plane?”
Enlai chuckled. “Perhaps. But right now, let me call her.” He snatched up his cell phone, fingers dancing over the screen. The call connected, but it went straight to voicemail.
“Where is she?” Enlai grumbled. “Isn’t she supposed to be awake and simp over Han Seo-joon?”
Yuhok laughed. “Maybe she’s deciphering cosmic latte recipes in her dreams. Call her tomorrow, Lai.”
Dropping the phone by his pillow, Enlai retreated to his bed, lying down. His eyes focused on the ceiling. For a minute his mind felt so empty, nothing in sight, no thought crawling anywhere close. It was a peculiar emptiness, neither comforting nor unsettling. Just a quiet void, like the pause between heartbeats.
And yet, within that emptiness, a fear stirred—an intangible ghost that slithered up his spine. It wasn’t fear of the material world—the monsters under the bed or the shadows in the closet. No, this fear was more greasy, more cunning. It whispered of inevitability, of things left unsaid, of brittle threads that held their universe together.
Meanwhile, Yuhok moved about the room, tidying up the
remnants of their night. The ice cream tub found its place in the dustbin, and
the spoons clinked against the sink. And then, as if drawn by an invisible
force, he settled beside Enlai—their bodies fitting together like pieces of a
puzzle.
Enlai turned toward Yuhok, seeking refuge in the curve of his neck. The warmth
of Yuhok’s skin seeped into his bones, chasing away the chill of solitude. His
voice, when it came, was soft, like a secret shared only with the moon.
“I missed you.”
Yuhok smiled, a gentle curve that crinkled the corners of his eyes. His arm pulled Enlai closer, as if there were any gap left to bridge. “What’s with this sudden confession?” he teased, his fingers tracing patterns on Enlai’s back.
Enlai looked up from his safe haven, eyes searching Yuhok’s face. “Can’t I miss my boyfriend?”
Yuhok laughed, a melodic sound that echoed through the room. He leaned down, placing a small peck against Enlai’s forehead. “Tell me.” He whispered.
The next few moments were eerily quiet, the breathing hoarse and probably the only sound. Enlai's eyes darted around the room, searching for the courage to voice the thoughts that weighed heavy on his mind.
“I don’t know.” Enlai accepted finally. “I am just scared.”
Yuhok tightened his embrace, his arms a shield against the shadows that threatened to creep into their sanctuary. "Scared of what?" he probed gently, his voice a soothing melody.
Enlai hesitated, as if choosing his words from a vast dictionary. "Of everything," he finally confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "Everything is too perfect. It feels like we have everything we've ever dreamt of—the house, our research, and more. It's almost too good to be true."
Yuhok cupped Enlai's face in his hands, his touch a grounding Enlai in the present moment. Their eyes locked in a silent conversation, a silent exchange of fears and hopes that bound them together in shared vulnerability.
“So much goes on inside that small head, huh?” Yuhok’s fingers brushed Enlai’s temple, tracing invisible lines. “Thoughts, dreams, fears; they all keep doing rounds in there. But listen, my love: just be happy. Accept all this—the chaos, the quiet moments, the shared breaths. It’s yours, and it’s mine too.”
Enlai nestled closer, almost melting at his words. “And you,” Yuhok continued, “deserve every joy that is coming for you. It took me a long way to find you, to hold you. Be happy, for me. Don’t dwell on the shadows. If any storms approach, whatever nightmares or uncertainties, be it today or tomorrow or any day, we will confront them together. I promise you that, Lai.”
"And if I am being a bad boy," Yuhok added with a playful twinkle in his eye, "I am sure Lila has a gun with my name on it."
Enlai couldn't help but chuckle at the image of their formidable friend wielding a gun, a touch of levity weaving through the seriousness of their conversation. "Ah, Lila," he mused, "the woman who can silence a room with a single glare. Yes, she probably has a gun, but it's engraved with 'Property of Lila' just to make sure we remember who's in charge."
The absurdity of the scenario brought a shared laughter that echoed through the room, their fears momentarily forgotten in the lightness of the moment. Yuhok pulled the comforter higher around them, settling into the cocoon of warmth they had created.
“That’s her,” he mumbled, his eyes half-closed. “Stubborn as a mule, that one.”
“Baby,” Enlai continued, his words a lullaby, “you know what
Archiebald said…”
And as Enlai went on narrating the rest of his stories from the day—the mundane
and the extraordinary—he felt the weight of his fears lift ever so slightly.
Yuhok kept nodding, eyes heavy in sleep yet his ears attuned to Enlai’s
voice.
And in the quiet of that moonlit room, Hissypants kept vigil—maybe it
wondered why humans needed sleep when they could be hissing along with him.
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