Chapter 118 - Unwanted Guest

Misha sat on the doorstep, lazily propping his chin on his hand, his elbow resting on his knee. With a dour expression on his face, he intently stared at the empty driveway, his gaze locked on a small poodle of murky water.

Time ticked by, and the sun soon rose to its zenith, yet Misha still didn't move an inch and simply stared ahead under the blazing sun. Hadn't it been for him blinking once in a while and scrunching his nose when an unpleasant thought crossed his mind, it wouldn't have been surprising if people were to mistake him for a life-sized doll.

Of course, his strange behavior didn't go unnoticed, giving rise to an odd feeling in passersby's hearts. It felt as if the boy was observing something others couldn't see, not with the nȧkėd eye at least, making people wonder if there wasn't, by any chance, a ghost wandering about.

In other words, the boy appeared a little freakish, and the few passersby that were strolling on the sidewalk instinctively distanced themselves, while some couldn't resist picking up the pace or crossing the road to walk on the other side of the street.

—That child seriously seemed about to jump and tear to shreds whatever stood in his way, and no one wanted to become minced meat.

Despite their antics and murmurs, Misha stayed oblivious, not noticing the odd looks people gave him as he was lost in thought. Or else, he sure as hell would have given them a piece of his mind.

Over the past few weeks, days passed by slowly, and snow had started to melt, announcing that spring was just around the corner. And yet, Misha still hadn't had the opportunity to meet with Gabriel. Since the last time they saw each other at the restaurant, it was almost radio silence on his part, and even the phone calls had become overly scarce.

"Will Gaby really come today…?" the boy muttered to himself, his lips stretching into a taut.

Though they hadn't seen each other for several weeks in a row, Gabriel was supposed to come over many times. But in the end, he had to cancel last minute for whatever stupid reason his stepmother gave him, and Misha dreaded that today would be the same.

"Should I just ask Stephan for Gabriel's address?" Misha thought aloud, narrowing his eyes with a pensive look on his doll-like face. "I've always been the kind to pop up without prior warning, no matter the time of the day, so why the hell can't I do just that?"

Lightly bitting on his finger, he pondered over the question but eventually concluded that it probably wasn't a good idea. If he were to come face to face with Angela after ringing the doorbell, all hell would break loose. He just knew he would do something rash, like trying to strangle her or break her legs.

Or maybe something even worse.

…At any rate, it wouldn't end well, so Misha decisively discarded the idea. He should think of something else instead. It wasn't like he had anything else to do right now except thinking, anyway.

Not being able to meet Gabriel was frustrating to death, making Misha a lot more irritable than he usually was. His patience had long run out, and as of late, the number of kids he fought with at school went through the roof. Whoever picked on him or his friends or even innocent bystanders was bound to regret it; one wrong word, and it resulted in a punch.

Because Dereck was on the chubby side, Vanessa had hearing problems, and Misha was as cute as a doll, there were always some idiots who would run their mouths off, pointing out how different they were from other children. It was always the same thing, the imbeciles mocking them for reasons Misha couldn't comprehend. It was almost comic, considering how unoriginal their taunts all were.

Though Misha knew brats were brats and he shouldn't let the anger get the better of him, it still felt good to beat up some ċȯċky bastards; it helped vent his pent-up frustration, if only a little.

Sighing, Misha lowered his eyes, staring at his hands. His knuckles weren't that smooth and white anymore, covered in layer upon layer of scratches and cuts. Maybe he fought a bit too much lately. But well, at least the bullies were put back in their places, though it also meant his mother was often called over to the director's office.

Thinking of his mother, Misha felt a pang of guilt tightening his ċhėst. Whenever she was called, she always rushed over, worried sick that maybe her baby boy was hurt. She could care less about the other children, even vehemently defending her boy with the mindset that if he beat them up, the others must have started it first.

And once at home, she wouldn't scold him, only ask what had happened and tell him to be careful. She was proud that her boy defended her friends, but she didn't want him to get hurt. If things were going south, he had to fetch a teacher immediately.

As for his father, he would nod at him or give him a thumb up when his mother wasn't looking. It made Misha feel a little conflicted deep down, and he could only smile stiffly, unable to respond with words. He was trying hard to open up to Alexey just as his other self had asked; however, it was easier said than done, and he knew he would need time before interacting with his father came naturally to him.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Misha couldn't help but smile faintly, mumbling in a voice bȧrėly audible:

"Maybe I should try to fight a little less. Let's not worry mom too much—"

The sound of a car engine interrupted his monologue, and Misha snapped out of his thoughts, finally noticing the familiar car that had made its way in the driveway.

At first, Misha froze, his brain unable to process the new information. But once he realized that Gabriel had indeed arrived and wasn't about to cancel last minute, he leaped to his feet at lighting speed and rushed toward the car, a smile blooming on his face.

But his happiness was short-lived; the young man that got out of the driver seat was someone he hadn't expected to see, and he sure as hell hadn't missed that heinous face of his.

Urgh. Misha would have much preferred if Gabriel had come alone, even though he knew it wasn't possible. There was no way Angela would allow him to drive a car, having told him that he didn't own a driver license, and she apparently didn't like the idea of him riding the bus alone, afraid he wouldn't be able to find the way home because of his amnesia. She conveniently forgot that Gabriel had only lost his memory and hadn't become an idiot.

All that to say that Gabriel needed someone to drive him wherever he wanted to go, and today's driver was someone Misha wanted to throw over a bridge.

Unconsciously, Misha slowed his pace, and his gaze darkened, loathing soon filling his eyes. If Jake was here and Tristan was nowhere in sight, it meant that today's chaperon was Jake, and it also meant that he would have to put up with that jerk for the rest of the day.

He felt his blood boil at the thought, making him wonder if he would be able to restrain himself. After all, Jake's annoying smirk was enough to make him want to punch him in the face and kick him in the guts. Not losing his temper for the next few hours was going to be hard, if not outright impossible.

"I'm sorry we're late. We had to stop somewhere first," Gabriel said in an apologetic tone, snapping Misha out of his daze. "But I bought you some cake, so I hope you'll forgive us."

"…Yeah, I'll forgive you," Misha answered stiffly with a smile that wasn't quite a smile. Scurrying over to Gabriel, he then added in a mischievous tone, "Though the cake better tastes good!"

As the words left his mouth, Misha proceeded to lash himself to Gabriel's thɨġh without an ounce of shame, holding it tight. And with his face pressed against the man's leg, Misha glared at Jake, who did the same in response.

"How about getting inside?" Gabriel suggested in a gentle voice, pretending he hadn't noticed the sparks crackling between the two. "It's still a little chilly outside."

"Yeah, sure. My sister is waiting for you inside, anyway," Misha shrugged, letting go of Gabriel's thɨġh to grab his wrist and drag him inside.

And as he brought Gabriel to the front door, he didn't so much as glance at Jake, only snorting when they passed by him. He shouldn't waste too much energy on that dumbass, or he feared he would grow bald.

That guy had better shut his mouth and follow without making a fuss. If he didn't, it would be his pŀėȧsurė to lock him outside, even if that was sure to anger Jake. But well, if that unwanted guest was unhappy, he was more than welcome to turn around and return home. No one would hold him back.

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