a gorgeous white by Heather_anare

262: Im scared

"Brothers..."

Moulin eyes wore a wistful gleam. One that made the two men before him flustered. The young man stood before his brothers with a questionable expression, layering with curiosity. The silence of the hallways was broken by the faint whoosh of the wind that crossed through the high pillars of the hallways. Emlen frowned as he took in the sight of Moulin's depressed expression.

'Did the High Lord do something to him?' Was his first thought. This made his blood seethe.

"Moulin, what happened?" Maxille stepped forward and gently grasped his little brother's shoulder. His gray eyes were overwhelmed with worry. "Did something happen?"

"Eldest brother..." Moulin began. His gaze lifted as he met Maxille's eyes. With a soft voice, he spoke. "Please... let me see father. I want to see him..."

"..."

Maxille stopped. The words clogged his throat. His pupils faintly quivered as he turned his gaze and his eyes met Emlen's. The second brother clenched his fists. There were looking forward to having Moulin meet their father. However, they felt it wasn't the right time yet.

"What is it that you refuse to tell me?" Moulin asked. He grew anxious. Leaning forward, he held Maxille's hand in a tight grip hoping for answers.

"Moulin..." Maxille started. His voice was low, and his gaze was warm. However, Moulin could sense the hesitation in his brother's eyes. Sighing, Maxille shook his head.

"You must listen to me carefully... Our father is..." He paused briefly before he continued.

"... He is unwell."

....................

Moulin held back his sorrow. His silver eyes threatened to shed tears. The ache in his heart was painful, filling him with grief. If he had known how much his death would make his loved ones suffer so much, he wouldn't have carelessly accepted it. It was a foolish decision. Stupid! Senseless!

A few inches separate his feet from the bottom of the door. He was standing mindlessly, achingly hesitating. Beyond this door was his father's room. His sick father.

'Losing both you and mother broke him.' Moulin recalled Maxille's words.

'He couldn't bear it. Every day... he grieved and grieved. For years... he was lost. Until two years ago, he finally stopped.'

'He stopped thinking, stopped grieving, stopped talking. He's like... an empty shell.'

Moulin recalled Maxille's broken voice. The trembling sorrow in them as he spoke. Hearing it was heart-wrenching, painfully twisting Moulin's heart inside his chest. Moulin pressed his lips together, closed his eyes, and leaned his forehead on the door. A stuttering sigh escaped his lips. He feared what has become of his father... Will he not recognize him anymore?

"Moulin..."

A voice called him from behind.

It was Emlen, and Maxille stood beside him, silently observing Moulin's figure. Now Maxille wasn't sure if it was right to tell Moulin about his father's situation. However, despite that, he knew it had to be done. Moulin needed to know, and even if Maxille wouldn't tell him, Moulin would still find out.

'He is still my father...' Moulin thought, half trying to convince himself. Even if he wouldn't recognize me... he is still my father. This will not change.

Bracing himself, Moulin curled his fingers around the door handle and slowly pulled the door opened. Warm light spilled from the crack of the opening door. It didn't originate from the windows covered with pure white curtains. It came from the lamp, sitting on the bedside, illuminating the dim room.