AB Chapter 6: I Request to Sleep Together
"I believe you've already prepared yourself mentally."
The doctor from the planet Peipeijia spoke to Simon in his native tongue.
Although the species on their planet call themselves carnivorous bees, they don’t have a queen or a king bee.
Finding a mate is extremely difficult.
The risk is incredibly high.
Still, they practice strict monogamy—even stricter than most.
There are no divorce laws on Peipeijia, simply because male bees have never divorced. They don’t even understand the concept.
They are born obsessed with their plant-based partners, who are raised by male bees from birth and rely entirely on them.
If a male bee is widowed, it’s almost impossible for him to survive the next spring.
Even with their advanced technology and medical treatments, nothing can change that.
It’s more like a law of nature—a deeply rooted instinct.
One the Peipeijians are powerless against.
If a flower-type partner is stolen by vile, despicable trafficking criminals?
Sigh.
That’s a disaster…
It's no surprise that male bees who lose their partners fall into psychological trauma. It takes a long time to recover enough to choose another flower.
As for the stolen flower-types, their required incubation environments are so demanding that those profit-driven thieves could never properly care for them.
Those criminals are only interested in the flowers that bloom—valuable specimens, not beloved partners or family.
Immature? Doesn’t matter. Just force them to mature with drugs!
Once these flowers bloom, the ones that can help wingless male bees evolve and grow beetle armor by emitting magical energy—their petals are cruelly snipped off and boxed up for research labs and the elite’s dining tables across the galaxy.
Eventually, they’re processed into anti-aging and life-prolonging drugs, or served as luxurious delicacies.
As for the flower-types that are malformed due to chemical forcing, forever stuck in a child’s body, suffering through early blooming only to be harvested?
They usually die in agonizing pain.
They can't even survive their own blooming season.
All male bees know this horror well. That’s why losing a flower can drive them into despair.
They cannot accept that the flower carrying their love and dreams ends up discarded, dying in a trash bin.
To both the plant-based and carnivorous species, this is far too cruel…
“Your flower… unfortunately, he was also artificially ripened. His physical indicators are way past the danger zone.”
The doctor set down a simple device, gazing sympathetically at Simon and the flower-type Michel, who didn’t understand Peipeijian.
“Before I arrived, the local police showed me this child’s file.”
Simon’s expression darkened. “So?”
Ah, another male bee unable to accept the truth. The doctor sighed and softened his tone.
“The report says that when this child was found, it was only six months after you lost your flower. But he had already taken on a toddler’s appearance. That’s not normal. It clearly indicates he wasn’t gestated in a proper pod. The trafficking group used chemical stimulants.”
“…”
“This is indeed unfortunate. I understand.”
“…”
“The good news is, he wasn’t fully ripened. He matured on his own to blooming stage. But his lifespan and other... You should prepare long-term care. You know what I mean.”
The doctor hesitated, glancing discreetly at Michel, shielding his words even if the patient couldn’t understand them.
“If his life is short, you’ll suffer too. We can’t prevent it—because we are male bees…
His energy fluctuations are unstable. Don’t agitate him or expose him to noisy environments. I’ll send you the address of the nearest interstellar medical center. Don’t rush back to the home planet. And whatever you do—don’t board any spacecraft! In his condition, a warp jump would literally make him explode into petals!”
Seeing the fear flash in Simon’s eyes, the doctor nodded with satisfaction and stood up, leaving behind his medical case.
“These are all essential tools. Use them daily to monitor his health. Like those dumb, newlywed male bees—cough, it’s quite fulfilling. You missed a lot, haven’t you?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
Simon nodded, accepting the doctor’s goodwill.
He and his baby had indeed missed so many precious moments.
Every time Simon went on a mission while also searching for his lost flower, he would see posts on the galactic web—photos and diary entries from other male bees bragging about how their flower grew a centimeter, drank more milk...
He couldn’t deny it: Simon was jealous. He was heartbroken.
The big bumblebee turned to look at his long-lost flower.
Those black-and-white eyes filled with helplessness and panic, curled up in the chair, clean and well-behaved—so very obedient.
He was perfect. Like he had been carved to fit Simon’s soul.
Fulfilling every dream and expectation he’d ever had.
Michel watched the doctor-looking bumblebee walk out. With only Simon left in the room, his tension finally eased. He let out a small breath.
Though Simon was still intimidating, Michel had already dropped his guard around him.
Even after they had experienced "home invasion," "flowers sprouting from his head," and "going to jail together."
Two of those were Simon’s fault, in fact.
But strangely, Michel didn’t resent him. In fact, he’d grown somewhat reliant on Simon.
Like now.
As soon as the doctor left, Michel squirmed a bit in his chair, then looked up at Simon’s face.
“Um, Mr. Simon?”
Before Michel could finish, Simon immediately bent down, his handsome face replacing the view of his chin.
“I’m here.” The big bumblebee replied instantly. His eyes flicked to the top of Michel’s head, and the large hand on his shoulder moved to cup his face. “Baby, I’m here.”
Michel: “…Okay, seriously, we need to talk about this nickname.”
It was way too intimate.
The pale, black-haired youth flushed, awkwardly brushing away Simon’s hand.
“You can call me Michel, sir. Or you can make up a nickname or something. I know our relationship is complicated, but let’s start as friends, alright? Give me some time to adjust. Please?”
“And also!” Michel suddenly remembered his residency status and grabbed Simon anxiously. “I don’t want to leave Earth. Please, sir, can I—”
“You can.”
Simon’s instant agreement caught Michel mid-sentence.
“You… agreed just like that? Why…”
“Your body—cannot travel between stars. Your body—most… to me… important.”
The bumblebee man still wasn’t great at Earth languages. His broken sentence had two errors, like a toddler’s speech—paired with his strong, stoic face, it was almost funny.
But Michel didn’t laugh. On the contrary, his heart softened at Simon’s words. Warmth flowed through his chest.
“Thank you.” Michel pursed his lips into a shy, bashful smile. “Really, thank you, Mr. Simon.”
Simon smiled, too. “No need to thank me. I told you—I’ll do anything for you. It’s what I should do. I’m your family. Your—”
Perhaps unsure of the right word, he paused, then said:
“—Husband.”
Michel: “…Pfft!”
Cough cough cough—he’d forgotten about that!
According to Simon’s explanation, Michel was his long-lost wife...
But thinking about it, it was touching.
A story like “Wife kidnapped for twenty years; loyal husband never gave up, crossed galaxies, finally found her”—absolutely newsworthy.
Women everywhere would weep over it.
Then place it on the dining table so their husbands had to read it—and vow to do the same, or else breakfast wasn’t happening.
If it were someone else, Michel would be tearing up too, admiring the devoted husband.
As long as he wasn’t the other lead! Michel glanced at Simon’s tall, muscular figure, and a sudden thought popped into his mind.
A flash of a scene.
It startled Michel so much he physically shivered.
God almighty—what the hell am I thinking?!
“Baby?” Simon saw his flower shiver, thinking he felt sick. He leaned in, trying to check Michel’s face. “Baby, not feeling well?”
“No no no—!”
Michel, having just daydreamed something he absolutely shouldn’t have, avoided Simon’s eyes, ears flushed red.
“Good.”
Simon breathed out, the tension fading from his face. He bent his knees and leaned closer, cupping Michel’s cheeks. His nose brushed the red flower blooming from Michel’s head.
He inhaled gently—gently—at the little flower on top.
Something in its scent reassured him. Simon’s frown eased.
Just then, the door opened. Auntie Jasmine and a group of Peipeijians walked in.
Michel hastily pushed Simon away, flustered.
He hadn’t even greeted Jasmine when Simon spoke:
“I allow you—stay on Earth. But we—must live together. You—very fragile. I must soothe… We need—cohabitation.”
“…”
“Me—and you. One bed. Sleep together.”
“…”
The big bumblebee smiled, very proper and very innocent, adding a line that everyone present took as the opposite of what he meant.
He said:
“Don’t worry. I won’t do anything. Just… hold you. Pure sleep.”
Michel: “…”
Auntie Jasmine: “…”
The other male bees: Ohhhhhhhh—!!
Staring at Michel’s rapidly reddening face, Auntie Jasmine ground her teeth: I swear—I’m going to kill this damn murder bee!!!
Absolutely!!!
Author’s Note:
Mini Theater
Simon, honest tough guy face: I’ll just snuggle. Not go in.
Michel: (…Seems trustworthy)
One night later.
Simon: …Sorry. Couldn’t help it.
Michel: …F*CK YOU!!!
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