Chapter Text
"Papa, who is the handsome guy next to you on the portrait?" the little boy asked. Even though he'd not understand, his father's pain could be read from his face. "How come you have painted a star on your face? You never let me do it." the kid whimpered cluelessly.
"He was..." young man uttered, "My lover, Kinich, your other dad." he replied his son. At that moment, his little face glimmered with curiosity and excitement. "Children that age can't understand what death is" Lyney thought.
"He is my dad?" the kid asked surprisedly, "Why did i never see him? Does he not love me?".
Little child's words felt as a knife, stabbed so deep in his chest and it echoed in his memory for many times with longing over all these years ; that knife pierced his heart over and over again.
"No, no mon petit chou..." Lyney bent over on his knees, holding little kid's shoulders under his hands "Your dad is now in the skies." he gulped in pain to continue his act, "Did you know he's helping little kids like you beyond our skies? Of course he loves you too."
"How can a dad tell his child that his father died when he was just a little baby?" It felt too heavy to take on over your own shoulders. He needed to distract him from Kinich, and tuck little boy to his bed to sleep so he could've cry himself to feel better. He knew his pain would never be soothed, every night for 5 years ; he felt alone in the house they once shared, and wanted to start a family. Only thing that Lyney was holding to was their son, he felt as if he didn't have the right to mourn or be sad : It was their dream to give an orphan home, and he knew if it was him instead of his lovely Kinich, he would've done the same as him.
"He's helping kids beyond the stars?" the kid smiled excitedly, Lyney didn't understand how, but it seemed like he liked the idea of his dad helping others and is beyond the stars. It felt peaceful for a moment and he wanted to find solace in it. "Is it why, you have a star on your face papa? Can i have one too? Please, please, please ! I promise i will eat my broccoli and drink my milk."
Lyney couldn't help but chuckle, "I thought you were eating your broccoli already?" he said in a sarcastic but humorous way. "Okay, okay you won this time, let's paint your face.". He took his son to his arms. "Kinich's space shuttle is taking off! Passengers, are you ready?" he said loudly and imitated his lover's voice, then in unison they said. "We're ready!!".
It took 10 minutes for Lyney to do magic in the bathroom, he painted little kid's face with purple dye. It was 9 past 15 when they finished and it was already the little guy's bedtime. After he fell asleep Lyney felt a burden lifting over him. He decided to kill some time in the living room before he fell asleep. In the corridor, there was a door which hasn't been opened since that day, Lyney never dared to go to that room again. Like an abyss it was swallowing him but it felt to heavy.
He opened that door, the air still carried Kinich's scent ; Lyney didn't know whether it was real or just his wishful thinking reflected on his senses. Last time he was in this room, there was a body missing it's warmth and a heart no longer beating. It wasn't even Lyney who tidied up the room for the last time, it was Lynette.
He lied down over their old bed, in fetal position he sought his lover's warmth but he had to settle to his own. For a while, he stayed on that soft bed, missing a person and carrying that weight of death. He cried a little then he came back to the world. Opened that wardrobe to smell Kinich's old clothes, maybe they also had some of him remained over them. The moment he opened its door, a box fell over him. He never even knew such thing existed.
"What is this?" he wondered, it must've been there for a long time ; it was covered in dust. He opened it carefully then sat on the bed. Inside, there was a notebook seemed like a diary. On the cover was "Fleurs de printemps" by Monet, Lyney's favorite painting. He felt a deep sadness in heart, he knew in instant it was something Kinich left for him before he left for the skies. How come no one knew about this all this time. It wasn't the only thing in that box; a red little box, he recognized it as if it was that day again. The box holding the ring Kinich proposed to him. Tickets to Lyney's first show in the Theater Troupe in University, where they met.
A teardrop slipped from his eyes, staining his left cheek. Lyney put all these memories back into the box, to read the diary, but first he wiped his tears, so that they wouldn't stain whatever left of him. He opened the cover and came to the first page Kinich wrote. It was 6 years ago, one year before he died.
11 November, 2018.