Chapter 79 - Meant To be Happy

Misha gazed out the window, gritting his teeth with so much strength that his jaws made a faint cracking sound. His body had reacted without his consent, and he hated himself for being afraid of someone he shouldn't be. He knew in his head that nothing would happen, and yet his mind seemed to have frozen the moment Stephan opened the door and the pungent smell of alcohol wafted to his nose.

It was a conditioned reflex; his body instinctively prepared itself for the incoming pain, his muscle tensing up and his stomach twisting into a knot. As an a.d.u.l.t, he rarely had to deal with such feelings, but after transmigrating into his younger self, his trauma tended to flare up whenever the stimulus was a little too strong, just like now.

Because Stephan's father was a tall, potbellied man, his figure was very similar to Alexey's in his past life. After a few months of drinking day and night, Misha's father had gained an impressive beer belly, his handsome appearance long thrown in the trash. Now that someone, who reeked of alcohol and had the same build as Alexey's, was looming near Misha in a cramped space, the boy felt overwhelmed and oppressed.

So, of course, he reacted by lashing out at Stephan. And that was infuriating.

Misha didn't want to react this way, but he couldn't help it. Deep down, he knew sitting near the man would only make him feel worse with each passing minute, and the ride to Stephan's house wasn't a short one either, meaning that Misha would have to endure the feeling of wanting to throw up for almost an hour.

Not only did his stomach feel uncomfortable, but his rib cage also seemed to have shrunk, making it hard to breathe. It felt as though someone was clutching his throat, and his mouth had long turned dry. Long story short, it was an awful kind of feeling, and he sure as hell didn't want to endure it.

At any rate, his younger self was bratty and unreasonable, so Misha told himself that it didn't matter if he acted capriciously, even more so when it was what he had been doing this past few months whenever he wanted Gabriel to do something for him. It was now second nature to him, to the point where Misha didn't even realize how fickle and childish his behavior could be. One could even say that he had started to forget how to act like an a.d.u.l.t, too used to behave like a little kid.

L.i.c.k.i.n.g his dry lips, Misha tried to distract himself by scrutinizing the house in the distance. If he had to describe it in a few words, he would say that it was overly lavish. It was one of those giant houses rich people usually affectionated, the kind that was big enough to accommodate a dozen families or so. In other words, it was uselessly big, just like the rest of the property.

Still, the boy squinted his eyes, observing every detail as if to carve its image in his mind.

One of the reasons Misha had insisted on accompanying Gabriel was because he wanted to see where he was raised. Despite sharing a room for over a month, he still didn't know much about the young man, so he gladly jumped on the opportunity to learn more about him.

With everything that had happened and how busy Misha was with cooking, doing the housework, and attending school, they didn't have the time to sit and chat about Gabriel's family situation. Besides, it was hard to find the right timing to ask or the right words to say.

"What are you looking at?" probed Stephan by his side, snapping the boy out of his thoughts.

"The house, what else?"

"Hm, do you want a house like this in the future?"

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"It's too big. I'm gonna die of exhaustion if I have to keep it clean."

"If you ever own such a big house, I'm pretty sure you will be able to pay someone to do the housework for you."

"Don't care. I still don't want that kind of big house."

Misha wouldn't say it aloud, but he much preferred a relatively small house that felt cozy and warm than a big house full of empty rooms.

"By the way, what were you doing at Gabriel's house?" suddenly asked the boy, suspiciously eyeing Stephan.

"That… You will need to ask my father, but I don't think he's in the right mind to answer you," shrugged the teenager. "I was only his driver."

"Is that so." The boy paused, seemingly thinking about something, before noting, "You seem quite familiar with Gabriel's house and family."

"Why wouldn't I be? We've been friends since the w.o.m.b."

"Ah?"

"It's as I said. Right, Gaby?"

"If you leave out all the important parts, no one will understand your babbling!" retorted Gabriel with a sigh, driving out of the driveway. "What he means is that our mothers were friends, and during pregnancy, they often spend time together, so in a way, we have known each other since the w.o.m.b."

"Yup! That's exactly it! I was born five months after him, but his mom often brought him with her whenever she visited my mother after his birth. You could say we grow up together like brothers."

'Then why did I never hear of you in my past life?' wondered Misha, frowning at the thought.

The first time he had ever met Stephan was at the interview for the post of barman. Before that, he did not know of his existence, and during the few months he worked for him, he had also never heard of his friendship with Gabriel. There was no hint of it, except for that one night where Gabriel had come to the bar, asking for a glass of vodka.

Back then, Misha had vaguely thought that Gabriel had given in to Vanessa's pestering and dragged his feet over, but maybe that wasn't all. Vanessa was only one of his many students, and he had no obligation to accept her offer. First off, why did she even invite him to visit her at the bar, and why would Gabriel say yes? And why did Vanessa imply that it took him forever to show up?

Now that Misha thought about it, Gabriel's sudden appearance at his workplace didn't make sense. Was their meeting that day really a coincidence? Or was there more to it?

Just how much did he not know?

"…How did your mothers meet?" asked Misha after a short while, determined to learn more about those two.

"Oh, that was because of our fathers," shrugged Stephan.

"You're still leaving out the important parts," sighed Gabriel. "Our fathers are childhood friends, and our mothers met each other when they went out on a double date. They clicked immediately and became inseparable."

"And so, they brought us with them whenever they visited each other since we were babies," chimed in Stephan before adding with a wink, "I even have a few pictures of us two sleeping in the cradle. I've got one where we're soaking in the bathtub and playing with plastic ducks too! And another where Gabriel is crying his eyes out over spilled ice cream, and—"

"Stephan!"

"What?"

"Yeah, what?" repeated Misha like a parrot, glaring at the young man through the rear-view mirror.

"…Nothing," choked Gabriel, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

As if expecting this answer, the boy nodded approvingly before shifting back his attention to Stephan. With stars that seemed to be sparkling in his bright blue eyes, he urged him to continue, and the teenager gladly obliged.

For the next dozen minutes or so, Stephan talked about the various pictures he had of Gabriel. Their mothers loved to take photos of their two little boys no matter what they were doing, so Stephan had several albums filled with all kinds of pictures. From his words, some were quite a sight to behold, if not a work of art.

For instance, there was that particular photo of the five-year-old Gabriel with his mother's skirt on his head, having put it on thinking it was a kind of hat. He looked at the camera with a bright smile that curved his eyes into crescent moons, apparently not having noticed how their mothers were having fun at his expense. The next picture showed him pouting in the corner of the room after realizing they had made a fool out of him.

"You know, our moms had to coax him with chocolate afterward, or else he proclaimed that he wouldn't let them take pictures of him anymore," laughed Stephan. "That threat was very effective, and he managed to eat a bunch of chocolate before dinner, which was quite a feat considering how strict his mother was. Many years later, my mom said that she sometimes wondered if he hadn't tricked them back then."

'No need to think! He definitely tricked them!!!' inwardly snickered Misha as he outwardly roared with laughter, vaguely thinking that Gabriel had been fooling people since the cradle.

"What else, what else?" urged Misha, almost bouncing in his seat.

"Let's see…" Stephan stroked his chin, going through his memories. "Oh yes! That one! You will like it. When we were around three years old, we found our mothers' makeup bags and rummaged through them. And know what? We probably thought the lipsticks were candies and proceeded to eat them. Our sadistic mothers then took a picture of us crying because of the bad taste, our lips and cheeks stained with bright red pieces of lipsticks. Like, in the picture, we're sitting on the ground in our diapers, bawling our eyes out! Can someone tell me why they took a photo of that?!"

"Pffft! Who told you to eat strange things too?!"

"Don't judge! In our young, innocent eyes, it must have looked delicious. Anyway, there are a few pictures like that, where we're crying as if it's the end of the world, our faces flushed red and our mouths wide open. In others, we're smiling foolishly or pouting or doing some embarrassing stuff. But let me tell you a secret."

Stephan paused and beckoned the child to come nearer so that he could murmur in his ear. C.o.c.king an eyebrow, Misha seemed to hesitate for a second before ultimately giving in to curiosity and scurrying over, allowing the teenager to lean close to his ear.

In a sly tone, Stephan whispered, "In every damn photo, Gabriel always looks adorable, even when he's covered in snot and tears! I've got no idea how this is possible! In comparison, my great self often looks like a small, hideous goblin by his side. How is this fair?!"

The words left Misha speechless, but he soon burst out laughing, trying to picture what the teenager said. However, he really couldn't imagine such things. A cute little Gabriel who is crying? Who is pouting? He very much wanted to see that!

"The next time you visit us, you must bring your albums with you!" demanded the boy, his voice carrying a hint of excitement. "All of them!"

"Oh? And what do I get in exchange?" Find authorized novels in , faster updates, better experience, Please click <a href="#%5Bbl%5D_%!d(string=13970629705720705)/meant-to-be-happy_%!d(string=51672890134817851)">#%5Bbl%5D_%!d(string=13970629705720705)/meant-to-be-happy_%!d(string=51672890134817851)</a> for visiting.

Misha frowned, seemingly thinking about what he had to offer. Before long, a broad smile bloomed on his face as he bent over to get closer to Stephan's ear, proposing, "How about this? I will cook your favorite meal when you came over with the albums."

"You've got yourself a deal, dear!"

"Hehe!"

As he listened to their not-so-discreet conversation, Gabriel couldn't help but shake his head, a helpless smile on his lips. What was so interesting about old pictures of him crying and pouting? He wasn't even cute as a child, always looking grumpy. But even though Gabriel held such thoughts, his eyes were nothing but indulgence when he peeked at Misha through the side mirror.

Really, it felt good to see him smile and hear him laugh.

That boy was meant to be happy, not frightened.

___________________

Author has something to say: IT'S RANTING TIME!!!!!

I found out that some aggregator websites use my book without my consent and make quite a bit of money out of it, considering the number of views it has received (because of the ads). Honestly, I don't really care if they update my book, but what pissed me off is that they have enough guts to cut out the P a t r e o . n and Twitter part at the end of the chapter. And you know what? If you search my book on google, their websites are the first to pop up.

You know, I work so hard to offer my readers a good story, but it felt as though those guys don't give a shit and steal my book as if it's the most natural thing to do. Couldn't they at least leave the P a t r e o . n and Twitter part for the one or two persons who would actually want to support the author instead of thieves?! I mean, I don't even make 15$ per month from my writing! Come on! Have a bit of shame! And they took the old version full of typos, grammatical errors, and plotholes! Duh!

Ok, ranting is done! I've got good news for you. There's now an early access tier on my P a t r e o . n for those who want to read ahead of time, and I also changed the pricing in CAN currency, which means it costs less for you. Moreover, if you want to support me but your financial situation doesn't allow it, you can do it by reading my book on CG (Chrysanthemum Garden), where I receive a bit of money because of the ads. Not a lot, but it's better than nothing! And there is a bunch of good BL books, translated and original, on their website! ;)

Thank you all for your support! /o/

P a t r e o . n : *******.com/rsvaesen

Twitter : @ VaesenRs