Chapter 77 What if it doesn't get better?
Hill was terrified of the dark, but the darkness in his dream seemed acceptable because he felt completely enveloped, surrounded by darkness on all sides, yet also supported on all sides.
Warm... humid, hot, like waves lifting him up, he unconsciously kicked his legs, as if returning to his youthful growth period.
Struggling between wanting to drown and wanting to wake up, the male insect's breathing gradually became heavier, his reason waking from his slumber only to quickly sink into another wave.
He felt as if he had fallen into a whirlpool at sea, with a constant suction pulling him downwards until he lost his footing and fell—
"ah--"
He opened his eyes somewhat dazedly, expecting to make a sound of surprise and fear, but the sound that reached his ears was a soft moan, a comfortable groan.
Seemingly sensing that he had woken up, the vortex's suction became even stronger, and Hill couldn't help but raise his hand to cover his eyes, letting the dampness soak the back of his hand.
"Uh... let... let go..."
Hill's lower back began to tingle, his breath became damp, and he vaguely sensed something was wrong. He tried to reach out and push Celt away, but Celt grabbed his hand and pressed it against his abdomen.
Last night, he had a sore throat and was held in Celtic's arms, given lots of water, and then fell asleep in her arms.
Just the touch of his palm was enough to make Min Ganfang tremble, bringing a subtle tingling sensation. Celtic grabbed his hand and suddenly pressed it down hard.
"Ugh...!" Hill's waist trembled with an indescribable shock, and she felt tears welling up in her eyes and streaming down her cheeks.
My body kept trembling, a constant, intermittent shivering. The whole thing was like a water valve that had been turned on and couldn't be turned off; it just kept flowing, tears, until my tear ducts dried up.
In the empty room, every sound was amplified infinitely, yet it was also infinitely quiet, except for Hill's almost choked voice and the sound of her puffing out cigarettes, which amplified the shame infinitely.
He should have felt empty afterward, but perhaps because Celtic was still deeply reluctant to let go, he felt a sense of fullness, as if his heart had been gently enveloped and kissed.
This feeling persisted until Celt left him. A strange chill and disappointment enveloped him. He told himself it was just a hallucination brought on by puberty, but he still felt a little sad.
Celtic didn't leave, but instead walked to the bedside and suddenly reached out to pull him into his arms.
Less than five seconds after they parted, he was hugged tightly again, their skin touching, and the warmth of the female insect's muscles made him tremble slightly.
"What are you doing?" Hill asked, her eyes closed, her eyelids still red, as if she was unhappy about being picked up so abruptly.
"gargle."
Her beautiful, deep blue eyes snapped open, her voice hoarse and cold: "Disgusted?"
For some reason, Celtic found Hill exceptionally adorable at this moment, even with icy glint in his eyes: "If you'd like, I'll give you a good morning kiss right now."
He lowered his head slightly, and there seemed to be faint traces of water on his sharp jaw. Hill thought he was really going to come over and kiss her, so she couldn't help but tilt her head. But what place could she hide in the female insect's arms? Only Celt's chest.
Celt didn't actually lower his head, but he seemed to frighten him. Hill was a little annoyed: "Why did you take me there?"
You can go by yourself.
Because you, lying on the bed alone, looked like you needed to be held tight and couldn't live without a female insect, but Celtic said, "Because I need you."
"I cannot leave you."
Celtic carried Hill as he got up early to wash and get ready for him. Hill was so tired that he didn't want to lift a single finger. He leaned against Celtic and watched him methodically serve him as he washed and got ready.
Even in these small matters, Celtic was meticulous, as if he were handling some important military affairs.
The mirror on the washbasin was polished to a shine by the robotic insect. The morning sunlight fell on the mirror, and Hill suddenly reached out and touched the cold mirror with his fingertips, as if touching the male insect in the mirror.
The male insect in the mirror looked somewhat unfamiliar.
Compared to ten days ago when he was so thin that his bone structure was clearly visible, he has become much rounder, and his skin is no longer as pale as paper. Even though he has no strength at all, he still shows signs of being well-loved.
The corners of his mouth even unconsciously turned up slightly.
They're all fake.
The smile on Hill's lips suddenly faded, and she abruptly closed her eyes, telling herself that it was all fake, and that such a cunning and treacherous female insect could not be trusted.
It would be foolish of me to be fooled once, but not a second time.
The female insect cupped his face in her large, warm hands, and a kiss landed on the corner of his mouth.
Good morning, Your Highness.
Did Celtic think he was asking for a kiss by closing his eyes?
Hill opened her eyes abruptly, and the surprise and despair in her eyes were fully seen by the male insect in the mirror.
He wanted to look again, but Celtic had already covered his eyes with his palm. Celtic only allowed him to focus on himself and the kiss at times like this, and no distraction was permitted.
Hill's long hair was always difficult to maintain. In the early morning when the sunlight was at its best, he would lean back in a chair covered with flower branches and let Celtic comb his long hair.
It's strange that Celtic can even do this kind of thing well. Shouldn't he only know how to deploy troops and fight battles? Like a rigid and boring machine bug.
Actually, he can do everything, but he doesn't spoil that little male just because he doesn't deserve it.
"Why does it seem like nothing can stump you?" Hill suddenly spoke, his voice carrying a cold indifference, as if he had been deliberately trying to find fault and was somewhat resentful.
“Yes,” Celtic replied after a moment of silence.
"What?"
“For example, to make you happy.” Celt looked deeply into Hill’s eyes. Hill always seemed to fall into deeper pain in moments of happiness, unable to truly be happy.
As if happiness were a sin, he condemned and blamed himself.
Because every time you show kindness, it reveals how ridiculous my past sincerity was. I am indulging in the present, indulging in your meticulous love and care for Hildegard. This is a betrayal of myself and of the Hildegard of the past.
I can't convince myself that every time you hold me as I fall asleep, I think of how our little male pet Hill waits for you to come home in the quiet of the night.
Every time you declare your love for me to all the insects, I think of how you asked your little male to become your lover, hiding and not being discovered by any insect.
“What can I do to make you happy?” Celt knelt down beside him and kissed the ends of his hair. Perhaps it was the gentle and bright morning sunlight that gave Celt’s cold and hard features a golden outline, and Hill actually saw affection in this machine that only knew how to kill.
The male insect gently lifted its pale fingers, seemingly unable to resist touching the female insect's face to confirm the authenticity of this affection.
Was this all an act for the sake of power? If so, his acting skills are simply too good.
He raised his hand and then pressed it down sharply, his hand clenching into a fist at his knee.
"Then go and destroy that mirror for me." The male insect's eyes, like his voice, were cold and could not be melted by the sunlight.
He hated that mirror, hated the male insect in the mirror who seemed to have a slight smirk on his lips, spoiled and pampered by Celt.
He also hated the female insect in front of him who had once deceived him, saying that her only wish was for his safety.
It's all fake, it's all a scam.
When Celt wants to be good to an insect, he can be incredibly attentive. There are many things that Celt can do without Hill ever having to ask.
He didn't like the feeling of being restricted, always feeling it was heavy. Celtic personally took off his clothes and told him that if he didn't like it, he didn't need to wear them.
He liked the cold, porcelain or stone surfaces but couldn't stand the cold. Celt would lay energy stones under the ground to ensure that the gleaming surface always maintained a suitable temperature, so he would never feel cold when he stepped on it.
He loves the scent of flowers, but he is a light sleeper at night, and the fragrance can disturb his sleep. So Celt moves all the plants away in the evening to allow for ventilation, so that no fragrance remains.
There are so many more, and some of these quirks that he only discovered after Celtic did them. He had never mentioned them before because he felt he could get by without changing them.
His survival had already caused all the insects great concern, and he didn't want to add to the burden of his parents and make them worry, but after Celt did it, he would find that he actually preferred it that way.
But the most important thing has never been resolved, and that is his physiological disorder, which has never really improved. Occasionally he can have some reactions, but they are only temporary and not enough to support the degree to which he marks.
After each failure, Celtic would hug him and comfort him, even though he was never satisfied, gently patting his back, but Celtic himself felt more and more desperate.
Even a 3S female insect couldn't save his life?
At times like these, he would feel a sense of relief, a sense of revenge for wanting Celt to die with him and to be his slave even in death, and a sense of despair for failing his female and male fathers, Sirius.
What if it doesn't get better?
One day, by the lake at sunset, he spoke softly, his breath lingering on his lips.
This was both a joke and a subtle test. The 15-day tanning period was drawing to a close, but he still showed no signs of getting better.
What would a bug like Celtic, who always has a backup plan, choose to do?
Celtic stood above him, the vast lake rippling with waves, the setting sun making his tall, strong body appear even more three-dimensional and expansive, his jaw taut and his body undulating.
Their hands intertwined, and his arrogant, cold eyes seemed to have an illusion of warmth in the setting sun.
"If you are comfortable, it doesn't matter to me."
Whether you are comfortable or not is not important to me, as if he were saying that his life is not important either.
He answered in a hoarse voice, his neck raised, his brows furrowed, and his muscles taut with sharp lines, because at the end there was a distorted sense of loss, a feeling of being on the verge of losing control.
Hill chuckled softly, knowing that if he reached out, Celtic would pull him into a tight embrace, an even closer embrace than their bodies were now intertwined.
You're lying, you're lying.
Celtic would never give up his life for any insect; he would only survive by any means necessary. That was the real Celtic.
——
At the same time, in another region.
"General, Speaker Wilson has just sent a top-secret message."
"Hilgard's current level is A?" The female insect's eyes suddenly narrowed.
Author's Note:
Hill: I need to become cold and ruthless.
Marshal: Waiting for a relative (owing a relative, wanting many relatives).
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com