Chương 449: A punch
Observing himself in the mirror, Adam felt like a stranger, as if he was looking at a face he had never seen before in his entire life. This left him momentarily stunned. From this moment onwards, cancer was no longer a secret; it had become a visible part of his body, or to be more precise, what was once concealed within his body was now revealed on top of his head.
He was undeniably different.
The bald head left him momentarily dazed. His eye sockets grew slightly moist, but he didn't linger for long. Taking a deep breath, he gave himself a subtle nod, encouraging and rallying himself. Yet, he still lacked assurance. He ventured, "It doesn't look too bad, does it?"
However, he didn't wait for Kyle's response. Kyle was lost in his own thoughts, intently staring at Adam's bald head, his hand reaching out involuntarily to touch it. A wide smile broke across his face as he felt the peculiar sensation of the stubble. He glanced at the mirror, then at Adam, and couldn't help but chuckle in satisfaction.
"Looks okay, right?" Adam uttered, unaware of Kyle's expression, or the latter's actions. He was entirely lost in his wavering emotions. He took two deep breaths, attempting to settle the restlessness that surged within him. He kept nodding, affirming and reaffirming his resolve.
Adam himself touched his head, eliminating all the remaining bits of stubble. The short, bristly sensation was truly strange. He looked at his reflection again, trying to find his familiar self within the contours of his face, but it was quite a challenge.
Kyle's expression twisted again, a twitch at the corner of his mouth, his smile gradually fading. He shook his head gently and said, "No, looks really weird."
With just one sentence, Adam's confidence, which had just been built up, crumbled to the ground. "We shouldn't have done this." His eyes widened, watery pools filled with confusion and hesitation. He looked at himself closely, once again raising his hand to touch his head, rubbing it back and forth in circles, one after the other. The image was akin to him petting a ball.
"Yeah, big mistake," Kyle's eyes glazed over, gazing at that bald head with a tinge of greenish-blue, as if he was staring into the distant clouds.
"Why didn't we go to a barber?" Adam turned his head, inquiring uncertainly.
In the mirror, Adam's movement shifted the reflection, bringing Kyle's attention back. Pulling the corners of his mouth into a wry smile, Kyle suggested, "That would have been a good idea. If we paid someone to do it." However, as Adam turned away again, Kyle's gaze once again fixated on that bald head, and his voice grew softer.
Adam pursed his lips, closely scrutinizing his bald head. A hint of subtle disappointment welled up in his eyes.
He knew, he was afflicted with cancer. The doctors had rendered their verdict, he was undergoing chemotherapy, he was receiving psychological treatment, he was vomiting, his hair was falling out. Everyone around him looked at him with eyes that saw a dying man. His mother treated him with such caution, as if he was a fragile glass doll...
But in this moment, the weight of reality pressed down on him heavily, like dropping two lead blocks into his stomach. He felt like he was bobbing up and down in a frigid lake, sinking faster due to the weight, while the dreamlike illusion receded slightly. The raw and brutal sense of reality became a bit more pronounced, and his skin could sense the icy moisture starting to seep in.
Ever since the doctor pronounced his condition, everything seemed unreal, as if it had never truly happened, like a fictional story being played out on a television screen. Then, slowly but surely, the sense of reality began to seep through. The first time was the vomiting after chemotherapy, followed by the hair loss during his morning routine, and now this.
This sense of reality was like a heavy blow, punching his stomach time and time again. The gradually spreading ache felt like a spider's web, causing his body to contract and spasm in agony. Nevertheless, he had to straighten his posture, hold himself up, and conceal the turmoil within his soul.
With each instance, the illusory mist of dreams dispersed a bit more, revealing the starkness of reality.
As he looked at his bald head, there was a fleeting moment of disbelief in his eyes. The taste of bitterness lightly danced on his tongue, and inexplicably, a glimmer of moisture formed in his eyes. In that instant, vulnerability and panic struck him fiercely.
The unfamiliar self in the mirror seemed unchanged yet completely different, as if something was missing, yet something else had been added. It felt slightly distorted, slightly deformed, slightly unfamiliar, causing anxiety to well up. He quickly lowered his gaze, concealing all his emotions. When he lifted his gaze again, the chaos had subsided, and all traces of moisture retreated to the depths of his eyes.
Will Reiser, who was standing beside him, easily caught the sense of loss in Renly's eyes. The sinking feeling of reality, slowly accelerating at every turn, grew heavier with each acceleration, more fierce, more profound. The drowning sensation of suffocation and heaviness couldn't be released. Apart from himself, no one else understood, no one else could offer help.
With just a single glance, Will was struck hard. Caught off guard, his tears streamed down. He didn't have time to be moved, or to be in pain. He realized the extent of his own dishevelment when his cheeks were scalded. But Will didn't want to turn around, and he didn't dare. He just stared at Renly in a daze.
That momentary loss of focus flashed by, but it was as heavy as a ton of bricks. Such pain.
Lifting his gaze again, Adam examined his bald head once more, a look of disdain crossing his eyes. "I thought that after shaving it all off, it would be like a bowling ball." The tone of his voice was calm and unremarkable, but his clear and deep eyes had undergone immense changes.
Kyle didn't notice, nor could he.
A bystander, after all, remained a bystander. The idea of experiencing another's feelings was nothing more than one's own wishful thinking. Adam knew this; it was his journey, and he had to walk it alone. Kyle's companionship, the support of his family—they were his motivation. But every step, he had to take on his own.
Kyle only noticed Adam's disdain and furrowed his brows slightly, questioning, "Like Vin Diesel?" Seeing Adam nod, Kyle shook his head repeatedly. "No." Then he imagined for a moment and made a disgusted expression. With unwavering determination, he said loudly, "No! You look like Charles "Ballstrimmer" Xavier, and surprise, you're in a f*cking wheelchair."
Adam rolled his eyes. "Ha! Ha! Ha!" His dry smile dripped with sarcasm, and his deliberate speech conveyed contempt. "I'm too lazy to use my powers on you." He added to the joke, "What was I thinking? Using your f*cking balls trimmer instead of going to the barber!"
Upon hearing this, Kyle picked up the electric trimmer, examined it, and wore a proud smile. "I never wash them, ever. And it's not my balls, it's my asshole."
Adam lightly pressed his lips together, looking at Kyle with a speechless expression. Then he quipped, "Is it for Jonathan?"
Game night, and yet cleaning the rose?
"Pfft." Jonathan Levine, standing behind the monitor, couldn't hold back and ended up spraying saliva. Fortunately, he wasn't near a microphone, preventing any interference noise. Unexpectedly, the dialogue between Renly and Seth about Jonathan's prank wasn't in the script; it was entirely Seth and Renly's improvisation. But... the humor was just too good. Amid his embarrassment, Jonathan had to admire Renly's ingenious thinking. However, why were his cheeks slightly warm?
The other staff members standing nearby were in a state of shock, their brains frozen, not knowing how to react. It was a lot of information to process. Still, their dilated pupils betrayed the surge of emotions within them.
Caught off guard by this unexpected retort, Kyle shook his head and chuckled helplessly, whispering, "I'm joking."
Adam's smile faded slightly, and he shook his head resolutely. "You're not joking. Not at all."
Caught off guard by Adam's turn of the tables, Kyle, slightly gaping, remained rooted in place, momentarily unsure how to respond.
"Cut!" Jonathan's voice rang out, and now Seth was flustered. He complained loudly, "Hey, hey, I haven't responded yet. How can it freeze here?"
Jonathan couldn't help his suppressed laughter, but he still had to regain his composure. Seriously, he said, "I don't mind anymore. What's the matter with you?"
This statement finally brought the staff members back to their senses, and a low chuckle resonated through the room. Thinking back, they couldn't quite remember what had happened, but they felt that this scene's filming had flowed smoothly, was full of humor, and had many highlights. It was as if everything was happening right in front of their eyes.
Indeed, that was the case.
All eyes in the room were focused on Renly. More accurately, on his head—his bald head was quite eye-catching. It might not shine like Vin Diesel's, but it was undeniably attention-grabbing. Ignoring Jonathan's interruption, Renly continued to stand in front of the mirror, staring at his unfamiliar reflection. This reminded him of the time after his rebirth, gazing at his projection in the mirror: the tiny infant body, the unfamiliar hair and eyes, the foreign language that seemed alien yet impactful.
Now, he felt like he was reborn once again, and it left Renly a bit dazed.
In a way, cancer marked the beginning of a new life. It was either death, a way out; or life, a complete upheaval. This was a change without an escape route, an inevitable transformation.
The subtle sense of loss pulsed in his chest, an overwhelming feeling without a landing point.
SUY NGHĨ CỦA NGƯỜI SÁNG TẠO 
Shallowman
Shallowman I miss the times when I was in Saitama mode. My head had so much sunbath, and it felt cool and refreshing. Caressing my bald head was one of my favorite things to do.
Be bold and be bald, that's what I need to do! That's what we all need to do!
Again, some of the author's jokes missing a mark or being too Chinese
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