CHAPTER 161: HEARTFELT WORDS

Nine and Henry exchanged a look. In the end, they suddenly stepped forward at the same time, each grabbing one of Joshua’s arms and hauling him toward the room, his feet not even touching the ground.

Joshua was stunned. He struggled nonstop, a little angry. "Hey, what’s wrong with you two? Put me down right now, they’ll catch a cold."

Nine said slowly, "There’s heating in the house."

Joshua immediately raised his hand and slapped him.

Almost simultaneously, both of them stopped and looked toward Joshua.

Joshua instinctively turned to Henry, only to see Henry staring blankly at him, completely frozen like his system had crashed.

Joshua couldn’t help but frown. "I hit Nine, not you. What’s with you suddenly looking all hurt? Who are you trying to show that to?"

Joshua pulled his arm out of Nine’s grip, then looked at Henry and said seriously, "Go bring the others inside."

Henry lifted a hand to touch his own face, then lowered his head and walked out.

Joshua looked over at Nine again.

Nine pressed his lips together, then finally stomped out with a sullen expression.

Joshua opened the wardrobe and pulled out blankets to lay on the floor. After all, his bed definitely couldn’t fit all six of them.

At that moment, Henry and Nine came back carrying the others.

Joshua nodded. "Alright, just put them down here."

At least for now, Henry and Nine still seemed willing to listen. Otherwise Joshua truly didn’t know how he was supposed to drag this whole group back to the room. Every one of them was built like a wall of muscle, and of course they all had to get so drunk they didn’t know up from down. Just a bunch of unreasonable idiots.

After tucking blankets over the three of them, Joshua went into the bathroom.

When he came out, he saw Nine and Henry already lying on the bed, one on each side. Hearing movement, they both turned toward him at the same time, their eyes practically sparkling.

Joshua: "..."

In the end, he resigned himself and lay down in the middle. Before either of them could do anything, Joshua raised both hands and planted a palm on each of their chests, saying sternly, "Sleep. If you don’t sleep, don’t ask why you end up kicked off the bed."

Nine and Henry went silent on the spot, though each of them held tightly onto one of Joshua’s arms, clearly unwilling to let go.

The room sank into darkness, filled only with the steady breathing of everyone inside. From time to time, Leonard would suddenly shout something, and no one knew if he was drunk out of his mind or dreaming about who-knows-what.

Joshua’s eyes flew open. He felt something, somehow, and turned his head. Sure enough, Henry was lying on his side, those dark eyes fixed intently on him. When Joshua looked back, Henry blinked twice, then went right on staring.

Joshua couldn’t help finding it a little funny. He lifted a hand to cover Henry’s eyes and said softly, "Go to sleep."

Henry blinked, his lashes brushing against Joshua’s palm, sending a ticklish sensation across his skin. Before Joshua could pull his hand back, Henry reached out, took hold of it, and clasped it tightly, gently rubbing his thumb along it.

Joshua let out a small laugh. "What’s wrong?"

"Like." Henry spoke softly—so soft that Joshua almost didn’t hear it.

Instinctively, Joshua leaned in a little closer and asked quietly, "What?"

"Love." Henry repeated with absolute seriousness. Then he lowered his head and pressed a kiss to Joshua’s hand. As if one wasn’t enough, he kept going, each kiss landing in a different spot, light as a dragonfly skimming across water, leaving prickles of warmth behind.

Joshua nearly yanked his hand back on reflex. Henry looked up at him in confusion, eyes wide and innocent.

Joshua’s mouth opened slightly. His whole face was burning. He stammered, "Don’t... do that."

Henry lowered his gaze. "Why?"

Why? Joshua was truly at a loss for words. He could only wrap his arms around his own hand and say nothing.

"You don’t like me..." Henry murmured. "You don’t like me..."

His eyes dropped even further, and Joshua could actually see the tears sliding down Henry’s face with every word he spoke.

Joshua: "..."

No way. Henry crying? That only ever happened when alcohol was involved.

But Joshua didn’t want to see Henry cry either.

He hurried to wipe Henry’s tears away and said seriously, "No, I do like you!"

Henry took hold of Joshua’s hand again. Hearing that, he asked softly, "Really?"

But before Joshua could respond, Henry shook his head and answered himself. "No. You don’t like me."

Joshua would never like him. If not for their past, Joshua’s attention would have fallen on Luther and Luther alone.

Right?

Luther had thought he was the one who came later yet still got chosen, but the truth was that Henry had been there first... If Luther had come first, the one Joshua chose would have been Luther—never him.

They had memories together, but even those memories were gone from him. If he could never remember anything again, would Joshua eventually leave him?

Because he... was no longer the Henry Joshua once knew.

Joshua truly had no idea what could have hurt Henry so badly.

He could only hold him, one hand gently patting Henry’s back as he comforted him over and over, "Don’t cry, I like you."

"I really... like you."

Nine lay off to the side, staring at Joshua’s shadow, watching Joshua wrap his arms around Henry and whisper words of love.

Every tender word Joshua spoke to Henry felt like an arrow driving straight into his own chest. Yet he seemed determined to torture himself, staying silent, listening, his gaze heavy and trapped.

...

"Joshua, Joshua, wake up."

Someone was calling him. Joshua frowned, slightly disoriented, unsure whether he was dreaming or awake. He blinked a few times before realizing where he was.

A room not too large, but warmly decorated—clearly not his home.

Home... The thought tugged at something, and memories suddenly surged up.

The apocalypse, his family, and Henry—right now, his mind could only replay the image of Henry’s tear-streaked face.

After that... Joshua remembered nothing.

Instinctively, Joshua looked down at his hands, then tilted his head, catching sight of a mirror placed to the side.

His reflection stared back. His expression was unchanged, but the long, silver-white hair spilling across the bed drew his gaze. Joshua instinctively lifted a handful, brushing his fingers across it.

Just then, the door burst open. Joshua looked up, seeing someone standing at the doorway. A tall figure clad in military uniform, as if returning from a mission—yet not a trace of blood marked his clothes.

His black hair was now trimmed short, his cold, sharp eyes ruthless—softening only when they drifted toward the bed.

Joshua clearly saw the man’s eyes shift from stunned disbelief to something near madness, then fear.

A gust of wind seemed to rush in. Before Joshua could react, he was pulled into a tight embrace.

Henry held him firmly, both arms trembling, as if he wanted to fuse Joshua into his very being.

Joshua parted his lips and couldn’t help coughing lightly.

Henry froze almost instantly.

He released him at once and looked around anxiously. "Joshua, are you alright? Did I hurt you?"

Seeing Henry’s eyes reddened, Joshua couldn’t help lifting a hand to gently rub at the corners of his eyes. He shook his head and spoke softly, "I’m fine."

But it was only when he spoke that he realized just how hoarse his voice was, as if he hadn’t spoken in a very long time.

And Henry, looking at Joshua sitting before him, felt as though he were hallucinating. From that day onward, Joshua had remained asleep, needing nothing to sustain his life, like a doll with a beating heart.

Henry had imagined countless worst-case scenarios, but now—Joshua was awake, right before him, completely intact.

His Joshua...