Kairos - Blood (MxM) | Book 2 | ✅

9.Welcome to the Real World!

Thud. Thud. Doors opened and closed. So many doors. I was surrounded by them. And a voice echoed in the distance.

"Who are you?" it asked.

If I opened one of those doors I'd find bits and pieces of myself scattered within. But did I really want to?

Here stood a door and it was made of waves. Not water, just waves, opaque and shimmery. Each wave let out a voice.

"You never ask for my opinion on anything!" mom screamed.

"I'm the man. I make decisions for this family," dad spoke firmly.

Maybe don't open that door.

Next.

A wall of thorns and the knob was a red rose. Nothing bad could be behind such a spooky door, right?

My hand grabbed the doorknob nonetheless and pushed it open.

Crunch. Crunch. Steps fell on shards of green glass. Broken beer bottles — a carpet of them spread before me, long and narrow. To my left one after another, gray tombstones rose from the ground in clouds of dust.

Bam. I shut the thorn door.

Next.

The smallest door I had ever seen. Fit for a crawling baby. I knocked and no sound came through. Maybe this little one would be harmless.

I opened it and blood gushed out.

"Ah!" Someone yelled.

My vision focused and found Jack's bedroom cloaked in darkness. Our bedroom, I reminded myself with a smirk.

Thud. A door closed and I shuddered.

No, not a dream. It's Saturday night. Jack. He's back from the party.

Swift as a dart I burst into the living area all giddy and ready for banter and horny play.

Only one light shone brightly and it fell on the kitchen island. A large well-knit figure stood there with its back to me, facing the fridge door.

He turned sneering in my direction.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I blurted the question without thought.

Donnie shrugged and walked around the kitchen island. A peanut bag in hand, he crunched nonchalantly.

"Something's happened," he uttered then licked his lips.

Crunch.

"What? Jack. Where is he?"

With a tilt of his head, Donnie pointed toward the bathroom door.

I rushed across the living area and walked in on Jack without knocking.

Steam blurred the view and I closed the door with a click. Jack looked straight at me from under the shower jet.

"You're awake," he said wide-eyed.

"No shit. Why's Donnie here?" I gawked about the bathroom as if answers hid behind the gray veil of steam.

And answers I found.

Blood. There was blood soaking Jack's discarded shirt and staining the floor tiles.

One moment I was raising the crimson clothing staring in disbelief, the next I was in the shower checking Jack's body for wounds.

"It's not mine," a distant voice said.

His chest. His back. Legs. Maybe an arm.

"It's not mine!" Jack yelled and gripped me by the shoulders. "It's not mine," he whispered meeting my gaze.