The Fake Son Wants to Live [BL]-Chapter 153 - Jam

"G’orenzia."

That sounded like a beautiful alien name.

Nansich tried to say it back. "Gore...Gorr’nzeeya? Goren—" He gave up halfway, his lips twitching. "Okay, nope. That’s not happening."

He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "How about I just call you Zia? That’s easier."

Zia didn’t seem to mind. He just blinked slowly, like he was accepting whatever Nansich threw at him. No complaints. No judgment. Just calm, steady presence.

"So, Zia..." Nansich paused, then pointed up at the small crack in the barn roof where the night sky peeked through, dark and full of scattered stars. "You from up there?"

Zia followed his finger and gave a single, slow nod.

A soft smile tugged at Nansich’s lips. He didn’t know why, but it made him feel oddly...warm. Like he was sharing a moment with someone who shouldn’t be real, and yet here he was—an alien, blood-covered and strong enough to crush monsters—sitting quietly with him in a barn like it was nothing.

Zia tugged at his hand gently and led him back toward the same pile of hay they’d sat on before. Nansich followed behind without resistance, still processing everything in his head.

Suddenly Zia reached out and gently touched a scrape on Nansich’s arm. A faint glow lit up under his fingers, and the wound vanished like it had never been there. Nansich blinked, stunned for a second, then looked up at the man with wide eyes. Slowly, a bright smile spread across his face.

"Man..." he muttered, sitting back down beside Zia. "I guess some aliens are friendly. Like E.T."

Zia tilted his head slightly.

Nansich gave a small chuckle. "Don’t worry about it. It’s a movie. Earth stuff. He wanted to phone home and—yeah, never mind."

Zia clearly didn’t get the joke, but he didn’t seem offended either. Just kept watching him with those unreadable eyes.

Shrugging off the awkward silence, Nansich pushed himself off the hay for a moment and jumped to a fresher pile nearby. "Come on," he said, patting the spot next to him.

Zia followed him again and sat, just as silent and steady as before.

"When will you leave Earth?" Nansich asked quietly, not really expecting an answer. He looked around the barn walls like they might offer some kind of solution. "I mean, you probably can’t leave now... not with those grotesque things still roaming around."

He sighed and leaned back into the straw, letting it poke through his thin shirt. "God, this world’s gone to hell."

Zia didn’t speak, but he reached out a hand and gently brushed aside some hay that had gotten stuck to Nansich’s shoulder.

The gesture made Nansich’s throat feel tight for a second.

He quickly looked away and cleared his throat. "So, uh... how do you have so much strength?" He glanced at Zia’s biceps—defined, sculpted, very clearly powerful—and hesitated. His hand instinctively moved to reach out but stopped midway.

He pulled back quickly. "Never mind. Forget it." He scratched his neck again. "Didn’t mean to get handsy. Just curious."

The silence stretched for a few moments.

Then his stomach gave a small, loud growl.

"Shit," he muttered, pressing a hand over it. "I dropped the bread and jam earlier. I guess that means we’re skipping dinner."

Suddenly, Zia shot up without warning.

Nansich blinked, startled. "Huh?"

Before he could say anything else, Zia strode toward the barn’s closed door with swift, purposeful steps.

"Hey—wait, stop!" he scrambled to his feet and rushed after him. His heart started hammering. "Those things are out there—you can’t just go walking around!"

But Zia didn’t even flinch. Just pushed open the heavy wooden door like it was nothing.

A gust of cold night air rushed in, carrying the scent of damp earth and the faint rot of the creatures that prowled the darkness.

Nansich took a sharp step back, flinching.

"Shit..." he whispered, hovering at the entrance but not daring to cross it.

He watched as Zia stepped out, completely unbothered.

Nansich stayed inside the barn, fingers gripping the edge of the door, keeping an eye out through the crack. His breath caught when he saw where Zia was heading.

The chicken coop.

"...What the hell are you doing?" he muttered, peeking through a slat in the barn wall.

There were a few loud squawks, frantic clucks, and the unmistakable sound of flapping wings and rustling straw. He frowned deeply.

Then, to his utter disbelief, the alien man emerged from the coop... holding a chicken upside down by its legs.

"Oh my god!" Nansich yelped, practically tripping over his feet as he rushed forward to snatch the poor thing out of his hand. "Hawk?!"

The rooster was trembling violently, eyes wide and feathers puffed out like he’d seen Satan himself. Nansich quickly cradled him upright against his chest, stroking the agitated bird as it let out panicked coos.

Zia looked—strangely—accomplished. Proud, even. He gave a short nod toward the rooster, his expression somewhere between helpful and pleased.

He looked between the man and the traumatized bird.

"You... you brought me him for food?" he asked, his tone caught between laughter and horror.

Zia tilted his head, clearly not understanding what was wrong with that.

"Oh my god," Nansich muttered again, this time with a short chuckle. "That’s—actually kinda sweet. In a really, really horrifying way. But, uh—this guy here is not meant to be eaten."

As if to agree, Hawk let out a war cry and flapped his wings furiously—right into Nansich’s face. freēwēbηovel.c૦m

"Agh! Stop it!" Nansich shouted, wincing as feathers smacked against his cheek and jaw. "Ungrateful little bastard..."

He held the bird away from his face and glared. "Go put it back," he ordered Zia, nodding toward the coop.

Zia hesitated, gaze flicking between his stomach and the rooster still wriggling in his arms.

Nansich could almost see the gears turning in the guy’s head. "No. Not him. If you really want to bring me food, go find that pot of jam I dropped earlier, okay?"

He pointed to the dark spot on the ground near the entrance, where the small jar had rolled into the straw.

Zia looked at it, back at him, then gave a sharp nod and turned, walking with urgency.

A few seconds later, he came back inside, cradling the jam jar carefully in both hands like it was treasure.

"Good job," Nansich said with a small grin, gently taking the jar from him. "This is much better."

He quickly stepped back and shut the barn door tight, latching it behind them.