Sweet Devil [BL]

Chapter 125. Loose Screws

Misha sucked in a deep breath, and for the nth time today, he told himself not to kill Jake—or at the very least, not now. Strangling him to death in the middle of the shopping mall would leave too many witnesses, after all, making it hard to pretend he hadn't done it. And going to jail wasn't on his agenda just yet.

"Are you ok?" Tristan asked in a small voice, tugging on his sleeve. "You've been sighing a lot since this morning."

"I'm just a little tired, don't worry."

"You didn't sleep well yesterday?"

"Nah, I slept just fine. What about you?"

"Yeah," the boy chuckled, scratching his cheek with his index. "I hope Gabriel slept fine too. It seems like I mistook him for a pillow last night."

"That guy sleeps like a log! You could bite him, hit him, or even scream in his ears, and he wouldn't wake up. Anyway, it's not like it's the first time you cling to him in your sleep, so stop worrying," Misha rolled his eyes, glancing at Jake, who was negotiating the price of whatever had caught his eye with a clerk. "Say, is there a store you want to go to?"

"No, not really."

"Not even the biggest toy store in town? It's in this shopping mall, you know."

The child fidgeted, appearing unsure of what to do. Anyone with eyes could tell he'd love to go but didn't dare to say it, making the teenager's heart turn soft.

"In any case, I want to go," Misha winked, stifling a laugh. "So, how about tagging along?"

"Really?!" Stars seemed to sparkle in the boy's eyes, but they soon vanished, replaced by a dull light. "But Jake doesn't like that kind of place. He won't be happy if we insist on going."

"He's kinda busy right now," Misha snorted, pointing to the man, who was still bargaining with the poor clerk. "We'll just make a short trip and come back before he can even notice. So, how about it?"

Tristan hesitated but eventually nodded. Truth be told, he wasn't fond of shopping for clothes; however, toys were another story. No matter how mature he tried to behave, he was just a child, and children loved toys.

"Should we tell my brother? That we're leaving, I mean."

"No need, no need," Misha snorted, gripping the boy's hand before dragging him to the opposite side of the shopping mall, glad to leave the jerk behind. "If something catches your eye, just tell me, and I'll buy it for you."

"I don't want to use your pocket money. I have some, so it's fine."

"First, it's my own money," the teenager scoffed. "I started to work two weeks ago, and I just got my first paycheck." He wrinkled his nose, seemingly thinking about something unpleasant. "Second, I wanna buy you something, and what's wrong with that?"

"But it's your first paycheck!" the boy paused, peering at Misha through a few strands of brown hair falling before his eyes. "Shouldn't you, I don't know, buy something for yourself?"

"Oh please, don't start! I just told you I wanna buy you something, so don't quibble and accept. Anyway, it's my money, and I can do whatever I want with it."

The teenager huffed, not allowing the boy to protest whatsoever. Whether Tristan liked it or not, he'd buy him something!

Over the years, Misha had grown fond of the kid, treating him like a younger brother. He even had become at ease with hugging him. At first, Misha could not stand it, goosebumps spreading all over his skin and shivers crawling down his spine. But now, he could naturally take his hand, just like he did earlier.