SGT CH129: Extra

129 if Extra: If Mousse was the one turned into a zombie

◎ He actually stole pleasure from the punishment ◎

How could he not care?

When he lost the ability he could rely on and could only depend on his ability user boyfriend for survival, his boyfriend had someone more compatible and fitting by his side.

Perhaps, Mousse’s heart had long been twisted.

He was unilaterally protected by Aix, eating meals Aix made from various mutant animals and plants, accepting all kinds of crystal nuclei Aix brought back… yet he was unable to regain an ability for a long time.

He became a dodder flower surviving by sucking nutrients from his boyfriend.

It had been like this since the beginning of the apocalypse, and it seemed it could only be like this in the future.

He was a burden to Aix.

Mousse realized this more clearly day by day.

He was shrouded in intense anxiety, guilt, and panic.

He became increasingly eager to grasp something.

Wanted to have the qualifications and ability to stand beside Aix equally.

Every time Aix went out on a mission, he could only wait anxiously at the base.

The outstanding ability users surrounding Aix, the psychic crystal nuclei given away by Aix…

Were all layers of weight pressing on his heart.

And when he was injured, Aix shielding someone else and protecting someone else was the last straw that broke him.

At that time, Mousse really prepared to end it there.

He gave up resistance, allowing the virus to erode and swallow him.

His death might be the best ending for them.

He would no longer drag Aix down, and Aix could have a new beginning.

And he wouldn’t have to suffer anymore.

If it weren’t for the fact that during these years of turning into a zombie, he clearly felt Aix’s care for him, saw with his own eyes Aix entrusting all his spirit onto him.

It wasn’t just him needing Aix, but also Aix needing him.

If it weren’t for the fact that when he regained consciousness, along with the psychic energy came Aix’s love, deeper than the pain of gouging out the heart.

If not for all these, Mousse would have left immediately upon regaining consciousness.

Instead of continuing to lie in bed, in Aix’s arms, waiting for his awakening.

It was the same now.

Even recalling it, the scene of Aix embracing someone else still pierced his heart like a thorn.

He was willing to sit here and wait for Aix to give him an explanation.

Mousse sat quietly at the dining table, watching Aix opposite him, waiting for his answer.

There was a little apprehension in his heart, but more was the relaxation and calm of finally asking the question, like a giant stone landing.

Whatever the answer, he accepted it.

Aix was already overwhelmed with guilt. Hearing Mousse mention the day he was injured by the zombie, he was even more remorseful and self-blaming, suffering unbearably.

However, Mousse’s next words made a little confusion appear in his eyes occupied by remorse and pain.

What person held?

What… healer?

Aix gradually recalled.

That day, they arrived outside the Sixth Hospital suspected of having a psychic zombie.

He settled Mousse on the supply vehicle guarded by ability users, got off the vehicle with other teammates, and prepared to enter the hospital for exploration.

However, before entering the hospital interior, a large number of zombies poured out from various buildings of the hospital.

There were simply too many zombies, and their preparation was insufficient.

If they tried their best, it wasn’t impossible to fight.

But Aix didn’t want to expose his other abilities in front of the convoy.

He decided to lead the team to retreat temporarily, planning to come back alone at night using spatial ability to hunt that psychic zombie.

Most people in the convoy were agile ability users. After Aix issued the retreat order, they all activated their abilities and retreated very quickly.

Only the healer, who wasn’t good at fighting and had a weaker physique, fell behind.

As the captain and the one who actively stayed behind to cover the rear, Aix certainly couldn’t leave him alone.

He went back to pick up the healer.

But…

“…Held?”

Aix’s eyes showed confusion.

Under Mousse’s gaze, he gradually became panicked and anxious.

As if suddenly accused by his lover of infidelity.

This crime was too heavy, comparable to his necrophilia towards Mousse.

He flusteredly wanted to prove his innocence.

“No, didn’t hold!” Aix said urgently.

Mousse didn’t believe it, “I saw it all.”

Mousse was a little angry.

He would rather Aix give him a reason, an explanation, instead of arguing with him about whether he held or not.

But in Aix’s eyes, this was the biggest problem, concerning his innocence and reputation.

“That wasn’t holding! Just… lifting, grabbing, clamping under the armpit, transporting… whatever, anyway not holding!”

Mousse was stunned for a moment.

Carefully recalling Aix’s movements, it was indeed similar to his description.

But was there any difference?

“You were just holding someone else, protecting someone else, discarding me aside!”

Mousse couldn’t help raising his voice.

Aix was speechless.

He indeed failed to appear by Mousse’s side when Mousse encountered danger and needed him.

This was the pain of his life.

It destined that the rest of his life would be spent in endless self-blame and regret.

If time could be reversed and everything started over, Aix was willing to give everything for it.

Even if everything couldn’t be restarted, he was willing to pay any price to redeem his sin to Mousse.

Mousse didn’t let him mention punishment or heart-gouging, so Aix held back the words on his lips, only defending in a low voice:

“Not holding…”

Mousse paused, looked away, and said coldly:

“No difference.”

Aix raised his eyes to look at him, a trace of imperceptible sadness and grievance flashing in his eyes.

There is a difference.

A big difference.

The resistance and distrust in Mousse’s eyes made him sad.

Aix suddenly stood up, walked around the dining table to Mousse’s side, picked him up from the chair, holding him horizontally.

“Ah! What are you doing?!”

The sudden suspension startled Mousse.

Subconsciously stretching his arms to reach for things nearby, looking for support.

But he couldn’t reach anything, only able to hug Aix’s neck, clinging tightly to him.

“This is holding.”

Aix said to him.

Mousse: “???”

Mousse was about to get angry.

Aix changed his movement again, holding his waist, lifting him vertically, letting his upper body be higher than his shoulder.

While Mousse hurriedly hugged Aix’s head to steady himself, Aix looked up at him and said seriously:

“This is holding.”

Mousse: “…”

Was going to be angry, but meeting Aix’s exceptionally stubborn eyes, he just couldn’t get angry.

“Okay, okay, I know.”

Aix’s gaze was too passionate, making Mousse’s ears a bit hot. He averted his gaze, saying somewhat uncomfortably:

“Put me down quickly.”

Aix rubbed Mousse’s side waist, very reluctant, but still carefully put him back on the seat.

Aix half-squatted in front of him, fingers grasping a small piece of fabric by his knee, finally whispering:

“Never held anyone else, only held you…”

The tips of Mousse’s ears started burning again.

Really, saying these weird words, doing weird things.

Making one very uncomfortable.

Clearly, they had done the most intimate things.

Yet he would still feel nervous and flustered over a hug, a passionate gaze.

“Mm,” Mousse responded hurriedly, saying: “I know.”

Aix looked up at him, his eyes holding him.

His lips moved several times, but he couldn’t help speaking.

“Can I, can I…”

Aix didn’t know what exactly he wanted to beg for.

Beg for Mousse’s love?

Once used all means but failed to obtain it.

Now, what qualification did he have to extravagantly hope for Mousse’s love?

Or perhaps hoping Mousse could give him a little trust, give him a chance for redemption.

But ultimately unable to mention it.

Aix closed his lips, pursed his mouth tight, his gaze desolate.

Mousse couldn’t stand Aix’s downcast and sad appearance the most.

Probably because Aix always hid his emotions in his heart; even if uncomfortable, he wouldn’t show it to him.

Just silently hiding himself in the shadows, quietly casting a gaze begging for attention, which was heartbreaking.

Reminding Mousse of himself.

He had once begged for his parents’ attention in intense but silent ways again and again.

Or perhaps, also begged for Aix’s attention.

Every time not eating properly, going out drag racing with friends, secretly drinking and then deliberately posting a drunken update on social media…

Every time deliberately going against Aix, complaining he was too annoying managing everything, the little person in his heart was looking at Aix through his prickly appearance, saying to him:

I’m lonely, I miss you very much, look at me.

And Aix would always come to his side.

Even if he was covered in thorns, even if he was disobedient, even if he felt he was annoying himself.

But Aix would always appear.

Watching him with those persistent and firm eyes, taking him home, cooking for him.

That house, which became empty and dead after his parents left, came alive again after Aix arrived, becoming his home again.

A tear fell on Aix’s face.

When Aix looked up in astonishment, Mousse cupped his face and kissed his lips.

Aix worried about Mousse’s condition, not even caring to immerse in this kiss.

As soon as Mousse withdrew, before he had time to calm his messy breathing, he asked hurriedly:

“Si Si, what’s wrong? Are you feeling uncomfortable somewhere?”

“Originally felt a little uncomfortable, but as long as you are by my side, it’s not uncomfortable anymore.”

Mousse knew what Aix was begging for and wanted to return the love.

It was just that he wasn’t used to expressing love straightforwardly with words.

Being able to say something like hoping he would stay by his side to Aix was already no different from a confession to him.

Aix couldn’t understand Mousse’s delicate thoughts.

Their brain circuits were a universe apart.

So, when Mousse leaned over to kiss him again, he automatically interpreted this as Mousse wanting it.

“Do it here? On the dining table?”

Mousse: “Hm?”

Aix had already let the mutant plants clear the dining table, unbuttoned his clothes and lay on it himself, opening up to Mousse, and moving himself to a position and height suitable for Mousse to use.

Mousse originally didn’t think about doing it.

After all, Aix was tired all day, only slept a little at noon and was woken up by the noise he made, should be exhausted now.

But, Aix was delicious.

Mousse poked him gently with his rounded fingertips, instructing: “Remember to isolate oh.”

“Okay.” A trace of bitterness flashed in Aix’s eyes.

Of course he would remember.

He would isolate his own feelings while letting Mousse feel everything.

During the three years Mousse turned into a zombie, he had done extremely sinful and perverted things to Mousse.

Mousse being willing to let him stay, occasionally using him, having physical contact with him, already satisfied him very much.

He shouldn’t covet the pleasure given by Mousse anymore.

But, even if he isolated all his feelings, just thinking that Mousse was holding him, looking up to see Mousse’s focused and passionate eyes, that extreme satisfaction and pleasure spontaneously surged in his body.

Simply uncontrollable.

He actually despicably stole pleasure from the punishment he should have suffered.

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