It was almost noon, Timothy's potion had long since finished. The IV needle on the back of his hand had also been removed, he was propping himself up with a pillow, attempting to sit up.
Colt instinctively looked toward Timothy's eyes, the words from the dream flashing through his mind, before hurriedly turning his face away before their gazes could meet. Last night's dream was different from usual; it lacked logic and was far too erratic, clearly not a shared dream with Timothy. Timothy would never avoid his closeness, let alone pull his hair, but it was true that he treated Timothy's eyes like a mirror.
“Do you need to go to the restroom?” Colt held the hand Timothy reached out, not pulling him into the Ghost field, but merely reducing the Earth's gravity's effect on Timothy, letting him float down from the bed.
Timothy was only wearing loose beach shorts; his left leg was in a cast, his right leg was wrapped in bandages, there were several bruises and abrasions on his upper body, with fresh blood seeping from the bandages around his waist.
Colt shifted his gaze back, his eyes scanning all of Timothy's injuries, his heart twinged with pain.
Being a vigilante is a very dangerous job, because of his negligence, Timothy almost died in a corner he wasn't paying attention to.
Timothy grabbed Colt, patted his head, caught the Birdie that was jumping and scratching on Colt's head, his voice gentle: "Robin Bird, you are the smartest bird in the world. Be more mature and calm, okay?"
Colt caught the Birdie as it lunged from Timothy's hands. "It's okay. I haven't come back to see you in so long, it's only natural that you're throwing a tantrum."
Birdie chirped at him twice, pecked at his fingers, then rubbed its fluffy little head against his chin.
Birds don't hold grudges; the bird declared a reconciliation with humans.
Colt also rubbed against Birdie, then his head was patted again.
I am not a bird.
Colt thought this in his heart, yet his feet remained motionless, allowing himself to have his head stroked.
Timothy used his fingers to comb through Colt's hair, which had been ruffled by the bird. Seeing the pink tint on his ears beneath the strands, he couldn't resist lightly touching, rubbing, pinching them. That shade of pink deepened rapidly, turning a red so intense it looked as if it were bleeding, with the crimson spreading down below his neck.
His hands were a bit cold from excessive blood loss.
Colt felt as if his soul were being split in two; one half was thinking rationally, while the other was preoccupied solely with chasing the moving fingers, his head feverishly craving more.
In the end, reason prevailed.
"You can't squeeze the hearing aid." Colt stepped back half a step, pulling away from that hand that made him uncomfortable, forced Timothy toward the bathroom. He then turned his back to him, signaling that he wouldn't peek.
Master Timothy, did you get up by yourself? You should have rung the bell to call me." Alfred entered pushing the wheelchair, seeing Timothy shaving in the bathroom. He prepared clothes for him and tidied the bed, all while muttering, "When Master Bruce was your age, he also liked those cute fuzzies, but it didn't make him grow a thick beard.
Doesn't shaving make the beard grow in thicker and denser?
Colt held Birdie, his eyes still fixed on Timothy. Seeing that Timothy had finished washing up and was bounding out of the bathroom like he was doing a rabbit dance, he hurriedly floated over to act as a crutch.
"Where is the Robin Bird? Master Damian didn't take it out this morning.." Alfred's voice trailed off. He picked up Colt's backpack and raised an eyebrow slightly toward Timothy.
Master Timothy, you look like you've been living on the moon, ready to bounce off the ceiling at any moment. So, this is a surprise; I need to host a special guest, isn't that right?
Chapter 47
Colt looked at Timothy with guilt.
He forgot to hide his backpack inside the Ghost field, he also forgot to put away his skateboard. Since there was only one skateboard in the entire world equipped with a micro-reactor, Alfred could recognize it at a glance.
Yes, Alfred, thank you. Please prepare an extra portion of breakfast," Timothy said, supporting Colt as he hopped over to the old man, introducing them: "Colt Reed, my Reader. Colt, this is my grandfather, Alfred Pennyworth.
Normal social interaction requires a medium. Communicating with thin air is clearly impolite, but fortunately, Colt had planned ahead and was well-prepared.
Colt took out a holographic projector.
Top-tier holographic projections can be indistinguishable from reality; the silver-haired youth looked as if he had stepped right out of a group photo, though, unfortunately, he was only programmed with smiling and blinking motions for the time being.
"Hello, Mr. Pennyworth," Colt greeted.
Master Colt, please just call me Alfred. I'm counting on you to look after Master Timothy." Alfred bowed elegantly toward the projection as if facing a real person. "Master Timothy, please remember to take your medicine. Breakfast—well, lunch will be ready very soon.
The door closed, Colt breathed a sigh of relief, turning off the holographic projection. "You should have told me in advance, rather than introducing him to us like that. I wasn't prepared."
Meeting Alfred doesn't require preparation; Alfred only prepares delicious food for us." Timothy didn't need supervision to take his medicine; he swallowed the pills dry and had to be chased by Colt to drink half a cup of water. Timothy put on a loose cardigan pajama and looked at Colt with a smile, "Did we forget something?
“You're right, I almost forgot. I brought some fruit from Asgard for you guys; I've checked it and there are no issues, it tastes great.” Colt took a bag of fruit out of his backpack, then pulled out a bag of hay for Birdie. "This is grass grown in the Queen's garden. It's as soft as silk, its fragrance never fades. You can use it to line your nest."
Birdie loved the hay so much that he wouldn't even eat the fruit, carrying the hay back to his nest one piece at a time in his beak.
Timothy tidied himself up, sat in his wheelchair, covered his legs with a blanket, turned toward Colt, reminding him once again, "Colt, aren't we forgetting something?"
Colt put down his backpack, avoiding Timothy's gaze. "You mean opening the treasure chest? I've been saving them to open with you. Are we opening it now?"
No, anyone could break into this house at any time. I think it's better to open the treasure chest at your place." Timothy gently took Colt's hand and looked up at him. "You haven't looked at me once today. Why?
Colt stared at the top of Timothy's thick black hair, "I have been looking at you."
"Look into my eyes before you answer." Timothy insisted on knowing the answer.
Staring into someone's eyes is impolite.
Colt's reasoning was completely groundless.
“I thought it was polite to look someone in the eyes when speaking.” Timothy raised his hand to cup Colt's face, meeting his gaze, his voice gentle. "Colt, are you tired of my eyes?"
Colt nearly jumped out of his skin, his face instantly flushing red; even his voice responded to his emotions, his speech speeding up: "You're the one who told me not to use your eyes as a mirror!"
"I never said that!" Timothy cried out in protest.
You did," Colt said, pursing his lips. "You said it in the dream.
So, you dreamed of me last night, but I didn't dream of you." Timothy narrowed his eyes. "You know which 'you' I'm talking about; I can distinguish between a pure dream and a shared dream. Why didn't I dream of you last night?
Colt was led astray, after thinking carefully, he said, "Perhaps shared dreaming requires a certain distance to be activated; there is a rule in dreams called 'Shared Dreams'."
That makes sense, but it needs repeated testing," Timothy decided. "Starting today, we'll sleep together.
Colt suspected that the Hearing Aid was infected with a virus, which was why it generated his heartbeat.
Timothy said, "Testing [Shared Dreams]."
Colt stared into Timothy's eyes, seeing his own stunned self, which looked utterly foolish!
"Is the mirror working well?" Timothy chuckled.
Colt closed his mouth, wanting to shake his head, but his chin gave a small nod instead. "You don't mind?"
Why should I mind?" Timothy leaned closer, letting Violet eyes reflect in his eyes. "Colt, have I ever told you that I am glad to be connected to you, to be the mirror in reality that reflects you?
You said it, you just didn't say it so clearly.
Colt felt his nose brush against Timothy's nose. They were so close that he couldn't see anything clearly. He couldn't see himself, nor could he see Timothy clearly; he only saw vast expanses of icy blue covering him, like a boundless ocean.
This posture was perfect for completing that kiss lost in last night's dream.
He hadn't brushed his teeth yet today, but a good morning kiss didn't require him to open his mouth.
Colt tilted his head slightly, letting his nose brush against Timothy's as it slid down, gave him a quick kiss. "Good morning."
“I misspoke, it's good afternoon.” Timothy looked up and pressed his hand against the back of Colt's head, returning the kiss. He even tried to turn the light,蜻蜓点水-like good morning kiss into a passionate French kiss, but Colt clamped his mouth shut and began to struggle.
Timothy released his hand, letting Colt be free, then protested with a sorrowful expression: "Oh, Colt, we still haven't had our 'goodnight' from yesterday, or our 'long time no see, I'm back'."
Colt looked left and right, but simply refused to look at Timothy.
“I didn't brush my teeth.”
Timothy froze for a moment, then burst into laughter, laughing so hard that his wounds began to ache. If Colt hadn't seen how pitiful he looked, wincing in pain, he would have wanted to gag him!
..
The way the two of them spent time together seemed to have returned to normal.
Colt finished lunch at Wayne Manor and left before Bruce woke up. He brought Birdie back to Oak Tree Manor, brought Timothy along as well. Timothy had proactively requested to go with him, reasoning that it was immoral to let an elderly man at retirement age look after a patient, that "good friends" should help each other.
A reasonable explanation.
Colt pushed Timothy's wheelchair, with Birdie perched on his head. Wrapped in Spiritual Power, the various bags and bundles of Birdie's belongings were twice as many as when they arrived; combined with the daily necessities Alfred had prepared for Timothy, they trailed behind Colt like kites.
The first thing to do upon returning home was to open the treasure chests.
Birdie chose to stand on Colt's shoulder to watch TV rather than sitting between the television and Colt. Colt indulged the bird, specifically choosing to open the treasure chest in the dining room, even prepared snacks and water for Birdie, as well as brewing a cup of coffee for Timothy.
During the days Colt was away from home, the smart lock on the coffee machine had been hacked at some unknown time. It had been working diligently every day, the coffee bean canister, which was originally full, was now more than half empty.
Timothy hoped there would be a treasure chest that could refill the half-empty canister; a full canister of coffee beans looked much more reassuring. Colt hoped to pull the [Knowledge Explorer]; the mecha in his dreams had much better performance than the one in reality, possessing not only six enhanced Power Reactors, three S-class FTL Modules, a Super Healing Pod as powerful as "Archangel's Breath," but its life support system could also meet the basic survival needs of two people in space.
Colt washed himself thoroughly from head to toe, inside and out, then handed a warm towel to Timothy for him to wash his face and hands, before offering a prayer to the projected Quantum God of Wealth. Influenced by Colt's solemn ritual, Timothy also offered a prayer to the Quantum God of Wealth.
“There are 37 treasure chests in total, you haven't had enough sleep for 8 days; you haven't slept at all, actually.” Colt held Timothy's hand, feeling it wasn't safe enough, so he used some sunflower seeds to lure Birdie from his shoulder onto the table.
Everything is ready; the rest is up to fate.
Perhaps the God of Fate who governs the Dream Treasure Chest is named Red Robin, as the first randomly selected chest yielded the coffee Timothy wanted.
Colt thought he had accidentally been bumped by Birdie just now; shaking his stinky hand, he chose to rub it against Timothy, who was covered in the scent of coffee, before deciding to open the chests in order.
A Violet eyes bloomed.
Colt pinched the tip of a petal, confirming it was a real flower. He wanted to pinch it again, but Timothy took the flower away.
He tucked the flower behind his ear.
Oh.
Colt remembered, the dream where true names were spoken, Du Zhe and Reader, Violet eyes and Rose, and.. kisses.
Why wasn't it a candid photo of Batman slipping up?
A kiss..
Colt glanced at Timothy and opened all the remaining treasure chests in one go. A total of 35 treasures were revealed, Colt only took out 34 of them. There were delicacies from all over the world that he had eaten in his dreams, special materials that Colt had once complained were insufficient, Spiritual Power supplements, even a Little Red Bird that could only transmit messages.
"Even though it's late, thank you anyway." Colt gave Timothy a hug.
He could tell that some of the treasure chests were clearly Mars Base resource packs that Timothy had prepared for him. Colt could recall the dream corresponding to every single treasure; he was certain that these items shouldn't be among the things Timothy cherished. Timothy must have practiced self-hypnosis or something similar to make them precious, which was why he had repeatedly told him not to bother keeping the treasure chests.
Of course, most importantly, they pulled the [Knowledge Explorer]!
The mecha was even taller than in reality, standing about 23 meters, even when crouching, it was 10 meters high. Colt's house only has a 6-meter garage, but the garage next door has two floors with a double-height ceiling reaching 15 meters; the Knowledge Explorer is temporarily kept in that neighboring garage.
Colt decided to dig an underground base that could accommodate the mecha and fighter jets, while also making Red Robin's movements more discreet and convenient. Timothy opened his computer to draw the base blueprints, the two of them discussed it excitedly until nightfall.
Dinner consisted of cookies packed by Alfred, delicacies opened from the treasure chest, snacks for Birdie.
At nine o'clock in the evening, Red Robin would be absent from tonight's night patrol, so he could wash up and go to sleep.
Colt sent Birdie to sleep in the study early. In his mind, he was simulating for the eighth time how to help Timothy take a bath; since Timothy's legs were inconvenient, even if they were just ordinary classmates, he should still help.
Keep a level head, keep a level head.
Colt muttered to himself, demanding that he must remain "unfazed even if Mount Tai were to collapse before him." If his face turned red, it was just the heat, had nothing to do with seeing a man in such a state.