9 Chapter 9: The Gif

"Here."

Lean Lee practically threw a small box on Lance's pretty face. It was a good thing that Lance reflexes were excellent. He managed to catch the small box before it knocked his forehead.

"What's this?" Lance asked when he didn't find any note attached to the neatly wrapped box.

The party already ended a while ago, and what left was the cleanup.

"Emery's gift," his mother said.

It didn't escape his notice that his mother was angry.

Specifically, angry at him.

"Why are you angry at me?"

"I'm not," his mother snapped.

Lance rolled his eyes. "It's not my fault that I don't like Emery, alright?"

It also didn't escape his notice that his mother was rooting for Emery.

"Of course, you don't." The corner of Lean's mouth twitched. "You prefer that . . . that . . . girl."

"Jennifer, mom."

"Whatever."

"You don't like her? Jennifer is a sweet girl."

Lean frowned. "It's not that I don't like her . . . just . . . just don't bring her in this house."

Lance raised an eyebrow. "Because . . . ?"

"Because I don't like her!"

Lean screamed and walked passed him, carrying bundles of plates into the house.

Lance sighed.

Usually, in their age, they were greatly influenced by their parents' decisions, but they were molded at a young age, exposed to real-life much earlier than usual. Their personality and the way they think were matured compared to most kids their age.

They could already make decisions for themselves.

The twins considered themselves as the next head since they were the only males after their father and a 'must work hard to protect the family' idealization was instilled in their minds after they made their first millions. Afterward, this idealization was amplified when their sister left to study abroad.

"Ah."

Lance recoiled when Leon, his father, bumped into him.

"Sorry son, I didn't see you there." Leon then walked passed him like nothing happened.

"Wha––!"

He was about to retort when he felt something was pressing hard on his shoe.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't know you're there," Lawrence said, and snorted.

"I refuse to believe that, but even so, can you stop stomping on my shoe now?"

Great! Everyone is angry at me!

Lance sighed and unwrapped the neatly covered box.

A smile blossomed on his lips when he opened the box, and a cute baby blue chequered linen sachet bag with a panda clumsily stitched on its center stumbled his view. A calming, soothing smell of milk and vanilla, like a faint baby powder scent tickled his nose. It was subtle and gentle smell that he couldn't help but brought the little bag closer to his nose and took a few sniffs.

Is this her smell?

His face reddened as he placed the potpourri back in the box.

. . .

. . .

Seconds later, he let the cute little thing out of the box. Unable to control himself, he sniffed it again and again.