Overnight••√•• a foreign omega”

chapitre : 2

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Smith had naively believed he could blend into this reality. That he could play the part, if only for a few days. But that illusion shattered the second his eyes met hers.

His mother.

She was there, in the sun-drenched living room, and she was laughing. A crystalline, carefree laugh he had never known her to have. She was speaking with an elegant young man, Day, and patting his arm with affectionate familiarity. For Smith, it was a slap in the face. A vision so radically opposed to the reserved, almost severe woman from his own world. Here, she was radiant with authentic joy in the presence of his fiancé.

His heart constricted so violently it stole his breath. No, this was too much. Far too much. How could he feign normalcy in the face of this happiness that was both offered to him and stolen from him? How could he bear the weight of this maternal smile which, in another life, would have vanished at the mere mention of his truth?

He couldn't get attached. If he got attached to this alternate version of his mother, to this friend, to this make-believe fiancé, the return to his daily hell would be an unbearable torture. A contrast too cruel between the acceptance here and the rejection there.

For heaven's sake, he thought, panic clawing at his throat, I am a man who loves men. My greatest wish has been granted here, and I can't even enjoy it without it tearing me apart!

Without a word, driven by a primal instinct to flee, he rushed towards the staircase. His heavy, hurried footsteps echoed through the house, abruptly cutting off the cheerful conversation in the living room.

"Smith?" called his mother's voice, tinged with worried surprise.

Julien, witnessing the scene, felt a pang in his heart. He offered a reassuring smile to Mrs. Croft and Day.

"Don't worry, I'll see what's wrong," he said, forcing his voice to sound light, even as he nervously clutched the fabric of his trousers.

"Well... See to him," his mother murmured, her face suddenly clouded. "I'm afraid the wedding preparations are stressing him too much."

She turned to Day, a guilty sadness in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Day. You were so looking forward to talking to him..."

The young man shook his head with a gentleness that would have surprised Smith, had he heard it.

"Don't apologize, Mrs. Croft. I understand completely. I'll come back when he's feeling better. The timing probably wasn't right."

Julien took the stairs two at a time, leaving the confused murmurs behind. Reaching the closed bedroom door, he knocked softly.

"Smith? It's me."

No answer. Only a muffled sound, rough, ragged sniffles, reached him from the other side. A visceral worry seized him. Unable to bear it any longer, he turned the handle and stepped into the room.

The sight that greeted him froze him to the core.

Smith was sitting on the edge of the bed, his face buried in his hands, his shoulders shaking with uncontrollable tremors. When the door opened, he flinched and looked up, and what Julien saw in his eyes took his breath away.

This was not his friend's gaze.

The Smith he knew was a rock, a quiet strength that nothing and no one could shake. The one before him was a fragile assemblage of fear and distress.

"Smith...?" Julien uttered, taking a cautious step inside.

He had to stop short when Smith, in a gesture of absolute helplessness, grabbed his own hair and pulled, as if to tear himself away from reality.

Julien froze, his blood turning to ice in his veins.

"Smith..." he breathed, his voice dropping to a barely audible whisper. "Tell me what's wrong. Please."

As if those gentle words had broken the last of his dams, Smith collapsed. Literally. He slumped onto the mattress, his face once again buried in his palms, wrenching sobs tearing from his chest. Scalding tears streamed down his cheeks, tracing shiny paths on his skin.

Julien hesitated no longer. He crossed the room in two strides and dropped to his knees before him. With infinite delicacy, he encircled Smith's wrists with his fingers and pulled his hands away, revealing a face ravaged by an anguish he did not understand.

He plunged his gaze into his friend's tear-drowned eyes. And he spoke the truth, softly, but with an undeniable certainty.

"You're not my Smith, are you?"

Smith's eyes widened, panic dancing a frantic dance within them. Pure terror.

"How...?" he managed to gasp, his heart beating a disordered rhythm against his ribs.

"I knew right away when I saw you like this," Julien explained, stroking the back of his hand with a soothing thumb. "My Smith... he never cries. He's never afraid."

At this revelation, something in Smith broke definitively. A hoarse groan escaped his lips before a new wave of tears, more violent, overwhelmed him. "Worthless," he thought bitterly, the words of his real mother echoing in his skull. "I can't even manage to be someone else."

"Hey, easy now, calm down," Julien pleaded, rising to sit beside him on the bed, never letting go of his icy hands. "Shh... breathe. And explain it to me. Tell me everything."

In a broken voice, interspersed with sobs and heavy silences, Smith spilled his guts. He spoke of the closet, the rejection, the disappointed look in his parents' eyes. He described the daily oppression, the obligation to hide his true self, leading up to that forced meeting, that unknown woman destined for him like a final punishment.

"And then... after that, I ended up here," he finally whispered, exhausted, his face a map of distress.

Julien remained silent. A silence so long and so profound that Smith thought the world had stopped turning. He watched his friend, motionless, features frozen, and felt panic rising in him, stronger. His breathing became wheezy, his chest heaving in fits and starts. He was drowning in this silence.

Suddenly.

"AH!" Julien exclaimed, smacking his fist into his palm, making Smith jump and blink, his nascent panic attack halted abruptly.

"You scared me," he complained weakly.

"Sorry!" Julien laughed, a little embarrassed, scratching the back of his neck. "It's just that... I've been thinking. And I think I know what to do. I know a shaman. A real one. She might be able to explain why and how you got here, and... if there's a way for you to return to your world."

The last words fell like a sentence. A sharp pain pierced Smith's chest.

He wants me to go back.

The reality hit him full force, cruel and logical. This life was not his. This family, this friend, this fiancé… it was all borrowed. A stolen dream. He had a duty elsewhere, a woman he didn't love was waiting for him there.

"I'll contact her, see if she can take us tonight, what do you say?" Julien said, already pulling his phone from his pocket. "That way, everything will be sorted out, you'll see!"

Smith slowly turned his head towards the window. Outside, the sun shone, relentless and cheerful, indifferent to the drama unfolding in this room.

He half-closed his eyelids, a residual tear rolling down his temple.

"Yes," he murmured in a extinguished voice, almost a whisper. "Soon, everything will be sorted out."