a gorgeous white by Heather_anare

272: Ill tell you tomorrow

'It's time to wake up, my son.'

An angel was whispering in his ear. It tickled his heart, and he felt as if he was drowning in warmth, doused with never-ending satisfaction. He didn't want to wake up and give up this feeling.

She was chuckling at his reluctance. It was sweet to be heard, like divine chimes singing against the breeze. It was beautiful.

'My dear, Moulin. Come, it's time to rise.'

There was a hand softly caressing the top of his head. Suddenly, Moulin wanted to cry. It felt so familiar; he didn't want it to disappear.

"Mother..."

"My Lord? My Lord, It is time to wake up."

This time the voice speaking to him wasn't soothing and soft anymore. Instead, it was bright and filled with concern. Long elegant lashes fluttered as silver eyes gradually opened. The drowsiness was still evident in his expression as Moulin awoke.

"My Lord..." A servant girl straightened beside his seat. Relief filled her face when Moulin finally rose. The warm light from the few lamps illuminated the dim room. It emanated a warm and gentle feeling. When Moulin dazed eyes shifted to the tall windows beside his father's bed, he paused.

It was already nighttime. How long did he fall asleep?

Moulin turned to the man quietly sleeping on the bed before him. Moulin's eyes softened, and he stood up to fix the blankets up to his father's chest. His hands stopped when he caught sight of the slight glow of the crystal necklace beneath his father's shirt. A nostalgic feeling welled up in his chest. Moulin recalled the soft voice in his dream. Was it mother? Moulin felt his tear ducts sting.

"M-My Lord, The master had awoken earlier before you woke up. I had already fed him before he returned to sleep." The nurse reported with a determined expression.

"Well done." Moulin nodded. "Take care of him for the rest of the night."

"Yes, My Lord."

Moulin neared the doors. He turned back to glance at his father one last time before he finally left the room.

Not long after, he arrived inside his and Hadrian's room. Then door smoothly closed shut behind him, and the barrier allowed him entry. The place was strangely dark. The scene made Moulin furrow his eyebrows. He reached for the long rope and pulled. The lamps started to illuminate the area, glowing with a soft light.

"Hadrian?" Moulin called. Did he leave? Hadrian would have looked for him hours ago. It was impossible to think that Hadrian was unaware of where Moulin had been.

"Hadrian?" He called again. His feet moved, bringing him towards the hallway, his right where their bedroom was. Arriving, he met the scene of a lone man standing before the banister of the open balcony. It was Hadrian, standing with a hand resting on the stone banister.

His back was facing Moulin, so the young man couldn't discern Hadrian's expression. Despite this, Moulin could feel it. The unease and the deep hesitation. About what? What was making Hadrian anxious? From his back, the High Lord looked stoic and invincible. Nevertheless, he was still human.

"Moulin..."

Moulin raises his brows in surprise when Hadrian suddenly spoke. His lips released a sigh, and the young man strode towards the man. Stretching his arms, Moulin went and embraced the Lord from behind.

He whispered, "I'm here."

'Something must have happened in the assembly.' Moulin presumed. What could it be? Hadrian might fool everyone with his ruthless gaze and terrifying dominance, but not Moulin.