Sweet Devil [BL]

Chapter 37. Don't Judge a Book by its Cover

Gabriel came back with a popsicle in each hand, and the first thing he saw was Misha's bright red face. Even his neck had taken reddish colors due to anger. His furrowed brows, pursed lips, and clenched fists gave off the feeling that he had suffered a grave injustice, the unforgivable kind.

But most importantly, the boy seemed about to explode.

'Not good,' Gabriel thought, shifting his eyes to the four children who surrounded Misha in a semicircle. They appeared a bit older than the boy, and because they didn't have Misha's health problems, they were taller by a few centimeters. The child in the middle was even almost two heads taller and looked down on Misha with a mocking gaze, seemingly taking great pleasure in towering over him.

Gabriel didn't need to hear their conversion to understand what was going on, for the sneers distorting their lips and the conceit on their faces spoke volumes.

"I can tell whether the brat loves troubles or troubles love the brat," Gabriel tsked as he hurried over, slipping the wrapped popsicles into his pockets. But before the teenager could intervene, Misha moved.

Without an ounce of hesitation, the kid leaped, grabbing the tallest boy's shoulders to add more strength to his momentum, and kneed him in the stomach. The moment his foot, the one that didn't hit the child, landed on the sandy ground, Misha nimbly veered and elbowed him in the side, near the floating ribs. The tall boy's legs became weak, and he collapsed to his knees, holding his stomach while coughing and throwing up saliva.

Before the rest of the group could recover from the shock, Misha found his next target, the nearest boy to him, and skillfully headbutted him. A second later, blood was profusely coming out of his nose, flooding his chin and his lips before dripping onto the sand, rapidly forming a murky puddle of blood.

Instinctively, the boy put his hands under his nose to stop the bleeding, trying to slow down the flow of blood, but to no avail. Soon enough, the blood slipped through his fingers, and his white hands turned dark red. Meanwhile, his teary eyes were locked on the child they had thought to be easy prey, disbelief written all over his face.

The little girl choked with sobs, taking a few steps back in fear, while the third boy finally snapped out of his stupor. His friends' pitiful state made his insides burnt with anger, and he glared at Misha as if he was a murderer.

Screaming his lungs out, the last boy threw himself at Misha. When he was about to punch the girly kid in the face, a big hand grabbed his wrist, stopping him dead in his tracks. Misha, who had taken a defensive pose, was also held in place, a hand gripping his shoulder and pushing him down. At one point, a teenager had approached and slipped between the two, handily stopping their fight.

Then, a gentle yet firm voice echoed in their ears. "I think that's enough, all of you."

After his words fell, only the noise from the crowd could be heard. Some curious passersby had come over, wondering what was going on, and some asked around about the situation. Thus, the people were chit-chatting about what had just occurred, giving their opinions on everything while criticizing the children. Their senseless remarks were enough to anger Misha to death, but Gabriel didn't pay them any heed. Instead, he stared at the two children and asked slowly, "Do you mind telling me what happened?"

Although he had a warm smile on his lips, the children felt a shiver run down their spines. Their gut feelings told them that this guy was a wolf in sheep's clothing; underneath the smile, anger was boiling. Only Misha wasn't affected by it, even snorting at the teenager's words.

"Nothing. We were playing, that's all."

"You call that playing?" Gabriel asked, raising an eyebrow as he glanced at the kid with a nosebleed and then at the one curled up into a ball, coughing and moaning in pain.