Chapter 03: Awoken and Laughter.

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Cale woke up in the afternoon when his face was getting softly hit by small little hands that can be considered the paws of a puppy. A bit displeased of the sudden turn of events, he mumbles out a few words: "What... do you want?"

The baby who seemed awake coos in response, his fists hitting his chin unfavourably - totally different from the crying baby from before. Cale frowns at the young little offspring: "Hm... you shouldn't hit your father in the chin." He says without much energy then got up.

"Gu...huwuuu-!" The baby responded and bit his hand with his small thin brows creased in a pouting way. Reddish-brown eyes meets a lighter shade of rust.

"Uwah- gawuuu!" He baubles and got saliva on his fist.

Cale sighs and brought a napkin from the box, which he hadn't taken off yet since there would be maids cleaning it tomorrow, and take the young infant's hand to wipe the disgusting liquid.

He puts his index finger between the baby's eyebrows and gently trails it in circles, earning another babble from the younger.

"You shouldn't frown." Cale hums, humorously.

"You'll get wrinkles in such a young age if you do." Almost as if the baby understood, it stopped frowning and continued on babbling more incoherent words. Cale doesn't mind it as he continues on wiping away the saliva in the ends of the little redhead's mouth, bobbing his head in understanding as if he knew what the eight months old was saying.

"So you're hungry? Hm, I'm sorry that I can't give you your mother's milk."

"Huuu..." The baby blinks before pursing his lips together.

Cale grimaced before taking a pacifier and gently put it on the younger's mouth, "I'll go prepare it for a bit, okay? Don't go missing and screaming for papa!"

The little infant scrunched his nose in a displeased way whilst Cale laughed briefly before walking near the door.

His eyes went over to the already prepared bottled of milk and his lunch. Well, seems like he doesn't need to call Ron. He probably left it here and didn't want to intrude on our sleeping session...

The redhead ignored the trailing heavy warmth in his chest and started to pull the tray over next to the table, Cale went ahead and picked up the baby with gentle hands, carefully so. He might accidentally break the body if he does it without any caution.

And if he does, he'll get an earful and would probably be ordered to kill himself in order to go back in time—well, if his theory about the time-travellling is correct.

"Oops," The young man sweat-dropped and positioned the infant into a baby carry rather than just securing his back from falling.

He sat on the chair and cleared his dry throat erstwhile using his free hand, to take the bottle from the tray and started to feed him. The little redhead in his hands took the bottle with its hands but Cale still held it, just incase.

He'll eat later, he also thinks he shouldn't trash around for now. The child might take it to stride once he walks and learns to copy. But of course, that doesn't mean he'll stop being trash outside. He'll just lessen his alcoholism and refrain from smelling one too. He sighs, not from exhaustion but from thinking.

What should he do? There was no way his family wouldn't find out, although they had settled that he was a disgrace and should be avoided, there's still his two young little siblings that would still have the urge to come to his room. Preferably ask for a time out and hang, which he declined most of the time.

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