Please don’t be mad at me. Or be mad at me if that’s what you need to feel better.
I love you. I love you so very much. I hope you live a long, happy life full of laughter and love. I hope that when you are an old man, you’ll look back and remember the silly, weird boy you once loved with some fondness instead of anger. I know I will always remember you.
Be happy. Please.
Yours,
Harry
CHAPTER 23
Planet Calluvia
Harry had wondered where Ksar would even find a mind adept willing to restore Harry’s bond and keep his mouth shut, but that question was answered when Ksar did it himself as soon as they arrived home, with ease and skill that made Seyn scowl at Ksar suspiciously. The fact that Ksar hadn’t even needed Leylen’shni’gul’s presence to do it was certainly eyebrow-raising, but Harry didn’t really feel like questioning his brother. He wandered away from Ksar and Seyn, leaving them to their argument.
Having the bond back felt... strange. It felt off, like an uncomfortable, tight shirt he’d worn for years and had been okay with because he hadn’t known better. But now he did, and the sense of wrongness was maddening, like an itch he couldn’t quite scratch.
Harry had half-hoped the bond would make him incapable of missing Adam, but now he realized how ridiculous it had been. He had started having feelings for Adam long before his bond to Leylen’shni’gul had broken. It seemed it was entirely possible to feel romantic love without the ability to feel sexual attraction. Even with the bond blocking the parts of his brain responsible for attraction, Harry’s love for Adam still wasn’t at all like his love for his family. It was tinged with raw need and hollow longing for something, but it was like there was a disconnect between his brain and his body. It felt like the feeling of thirst that he couldn’t satisfy because he no longer had a mouth to drink. It was immensely frustrating.
Harry hastily blocked Leylen’shni’gul out of his mind; otherwise she would guess that there was something wrong with him. He also didn’t want her to sense the resentment he felt toward her. None of this was her fault. Harry knew that. He shouldn’t take his frustration out on her. She didn’t deserve it.
With that in mind, Harry even managed to smile at Leylen’shni’gul when he met her and her parents during the formal dinner that evening.
“I’m glad you’re back,” she said, smiling at him across the table.
Harry stared at her. She was beautiful and soft-spoken. They’d had an amicable relationship all their life. Comfortable. That was what they had been. Harry tried to imagine touching her and being intimate with her. He couldn’t. In fact, he felt rather nauseous at the prospect.
Eventually, Harry gave up and focused on the food, barely registering the conversations around him. He could barely hear them anyway. For a moment, he wondered if there was something wrong with his hearing. Every sound seemed muffled and distant. But then, as he put a spoonful of soup in his mouth and barely tasted it, Harry remembered the reason: the bond was suppressing all his senses, not just the ones responsible for his telepathy or his ability to feel arousal.
Harry sighed. That would take some getting used to.
* * *
The fatigue and apathy started one month after his return home. Harry had never been a sickly person, so his lack of appetite surprised him a little, but he figured it was inevitable since he could barely eat the bland food. He tried not to let anyone notice that he wasn’t feeling all that well. He didn’t want his family’s scrutiny.
Harry still had no idea what his parents knew. They hadn’t spoken to him in depth about his unsanctioned trip to Earth. To be fair, neither had Sanyash: his sister had just shaken her head and said she was glad he’d come to his senses. But then again, Sanyash wasn’t around much, since she lived with her husband on a research space colony a few light years away. His parents didn’t have that excuse. Harry could sense his mother’s disappointment and disapproval every time she looked at him, but she had said very little to him on the matter. His father had jokingly told him not to be a brat and warn them next time he decided to disappear.
The lack of punishment had surprised Harry, but he had shrugged it off. He still didn’t know what Ksar had told their parents—and he didn’t care much. In fact, Harry found that it was difficult for him to care about much of anything. He felt apathetic. Numb. Everything seemed dull. The world was dull. The food was tasteless. The colors were colorless.
Rationally, Harry understood that it must have been the bond messing with his perceptions, but it did nothing to change how he felt. Rationally, he might have understood that he had lived with the bond for most of his life and had been just fine, but after learning how much better and sharper everything could be, it was hard to get used to the blandness of everything—of his life. The bond just felt wrong. He felt as if he was put together wrong, too.