I am confused as hell.

Fearing that the puppy would come back soon, I tried to put the mirror and cigarette back to the past, and they really disappeared, even though I still couldn’t pinpoint the exact memory I had conjured them up from.

The fact that Henry put the collar on me meant he didn’t want me to use my powers, and it was understandable when the latest threats to our lives and specifically my life had indeed been caused by my powers.

In the morgue, I died because I looked into a corpse’s future, and this time, most likely, after overusing my powers.

Not even the giant had managed to kill me, but I did manage to off myself nearly twice.

However, why the hell does the collar not work?

Because everything that ran on electricity has not been working since the plane crash?

Hmmmm, but the collar technology didn’t come from our world and seemed to be much more advanced to simply stop working.

For example, the collar had no output to charge it or for batteries; the whole technology itself was a mystery, too.

Or could the puppy not bring it over himself to put something on me that could cause me pain?

Even with our upgraded bodies, the electroshocks had hurt like hell the last time I had the honor of feeling them.

I had my arms crossed while sitting on the couch, staring into nothingness while thinking when Henry reappeared with a bathtub full of steaming hot water.

"Not bad," I praised.

There was no hot water leaking anywhere, probably because Henry managed to melt any holes or pipes together.

Hmmm... the longer I looked at it...

"Is this a bathtub from the house?" I asked the puppy, who had just gone and reappeared with towels he placed besides the bathtub.

"From your grandmother’s room." Henry looked expressionless, but the corner of his lips twitched.

"Ew—oh," I corrected, my answer instant.

A bit disturbing to think that she had been in there naked at some point, but on the other hand, I wouldn’t want the bathtub from our room here. I still want to use that room and bathroom when we go back in the future.

As to why he hadn’t got the one from the cursed bathroom... who knows?

I had prepared a joke for the moment Henry would stay and want to watch me bathe, but after preparing everything, including a plastic thingy for the plaster, he disappeared again.

"Alright." I would get rid of that joke today no matter what; there surely will be another opportunity.

I stood up and got rid of my clothes before pulling the VERY long shower cap over my leg, up to my thigh, and then immersing myself in the water.

I let the plastered leg hang over the edge, but it was utopian to think that there would be no contact between water and plaster when I sat inside a full bathtub.

So, soaking in water and in dissolving plaster, I heard Henry reappear in the kitchen.

Water was splashing as he seemed to be washing up as well.

That stubborn fucker is not even letting me see a bit of his body. What the hell? He is really going all out in hiding whatever is wrong with his body from me, isn’t he??

I clenched my jaw and stopped myself from storming stark naked into the big industrial kitchen, given that I was sure as hell that he had built a crystalline barrier between the two rooms.

I washed my hair and got out soon because my plastered leg was already losing all its sensations.

Then I dried myself and got some clothes from the closet that wasn’t far from the bathtub.

I smelled much better, so that was good, and with a new t-shirt and boxers, I felt fresh as hell.

Lying down on the bed, I listened to the silence that had settled in the adjoining room.

"Henry?" I asked loudly, suddenly paranoid that something had happened.

Water splashed, and I heard his voice.

"Yeah?" It seemed he had just zoned out while in the bathtub.

"Don’t fall asleep while in the bathtub!" Relieved, I leant back again and pulled my boxer leg up to play with the soaked plaster at the top of my thigh.

"I won’t." I heard water splashing again and then some noises hinting that he was ready to come back out.

I could rip the soggy part off easily, and soon half of my thigh was visible. The rest of the plaster was dry, so I stopped there.

I hummed and waited, the tiredness coming back after getting expelled by the unexpected discovery of being able to use my power.

But I held myself awake, telling myself that I had to release that one joke and see Henry laugh for me before falling asleep for who knows how long.

Raindrops hit the floor-to-ceiling windows when Henry finally came out, using the door instead of teleporting.

He had new clothes on, but again, a hoodie, and on top was still the hairband with the red, pointy ears.

And again, gloves.

I watched the rain when he disappeared with the bathtub, making order inside the restaurant again.

When he reappeared, apparently finished with cleaning up, I said,

"Good that we went out earlier."

Henry turned back to look out of the window before he hummed, and then he came to the bed.

He sat on the edge with one leg pulled in on top of the mattress and looked at me.

I waited patiently, and eventually, he placed his hand on my heart.

"Whoa, I am not that easy." Finally having my chance to say it, I modified my joke to match the situation.

"Getting handsy right after the first date?" I smirked and placed my hand on top of his, just to make sure he wouldn’t pull back.

It worked, and he chuckled, looking more beautiful than a human should be able to look.

"But if you insist, you can get a kiss," I said without having intended to rush him, just because his lips suddenly seemed so soft, so enticing, and so fucking thirst-quenching.

There was silence stretching, and I looked from his lips back to his eyes, seeing that he, in return, was also staring at my mouth.

His gloved hand slipped from under mine, away from my heart, to trace my lips.

But he didn’t bend forward to overcome the distance, just looking down at me in fervor.

"The last time...I touched these lips," he started, then paused.

"...they were cold."

I could feel the leather against my skin as he held onto my chin, his gloved finger touching my mouth.

I clenched my jaw, not immediately registering what he was saying.

The words had been spoken out; the strong suspicion I had was confirmed, but I still just couldn’t take in the meaning when it was transferred from him while looking so hollow.

As if his entire existence had been carved out, leaving behind something barely alive.

"They were the lips of a corpse." He finished, his voice grating as he clarified what I didn’t want him to clarify—not because of me, but because I didn’t want to see him in so much pain.

The ’Oh, I probably died and traumatized the puppy, but hey, I am alive, so everything is good’ sentiment seemed like an insult to the shattering and all-consuming grief I had left the puppy to deal with.

"I’m sorry," I whispered breathlessly.

"It’s not your fault." He smiled, but two streaks of tears fell from his eyes.

"I’m sorry," I repeated, my voice breaking.

"It’s not your fault." He repeated as well, the smile falling, as his face turned back into an expressionless mask.

Yeah. But it happened. And it shouldn’t have.

It is my fault as long as it happened under my watch, to me, and because of me.

I blinked, only noticing that I was tearing up as well, and stopped the urge to cover my eyes with my palms.

Henry’s hand came back to my heart, feeling it beat together with the pitter-patter on the windows as the sky cried with us.

He looked down at his hand and murmured,

"The paper planes are gone."

My hand clutched his gloved one.

"It doesn’t matter; I will draw you a ton more."

"I hurt them. They are gone." He repeated more to himself, seeming in a trance as if he had fallen asleep with his body sitting and his eyes open.

"I don’t want to hurt you too."

I furrowed my brows, and seeing Henry unmoving, frozen in position while looking down at his gloved hand, I inched my hand to his fingertips, slowly pulling at the leather.

He didn’t react, as if lost in a memory, as if his soul had left for now, or as if he had just succumbed to his exhaustion.

With his hand resting casually on my chest, I managed to pull the leather, although it fit tightly.

I first saw it on the back of his hand, unsure how to identify what exactly it was.

A surface, moving.

Crystals, moving.

But under the moving, milky, half-see-through barrier was not skin—just darkness.

When the glove was off, I pushed his hoodie’s sleeves up in horror, finding that the darkness and the crystals reached until above his elbow; only then did I finally see skin.

The shadowy energy was constantly swirling, devouring the crystalline barrier, and the crystalline barrier constantly regrew to contain the destruction locked inside.