Through Divine Intervention. || 백작가의 망나니가 되었다

Chapter 08: Puzzles And Mischief.

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It could've been just a small thing. A small pass of nightmare, would he understand how he stays up late till the silver coast resides up in the sky. It should've been fine for him to sleep it all away if it was just a reminder of how cold and dead the body that was in the expensive and golden coffin, no, there was no body.

For a Thames to be dead, they should be cremated in hopes of not getting tangled in the universe's way. Or that's what at least he knows.

Cale faced his mother's ashes rather than cold flesh. He wasn't able to be there in her last minutes, he was only there when she was sent off to that damn village. That was it. Only was he able to know through those sad and deep eyes of a man called his father.

It would've been fine if he were to reminisce, have those as nightmares instead.

But rather, he stayed up for something he did not expect. A vision that was not so far from a human's mind.

Fire. Burning houses. Screams. Terror. Ablaze and... death.

Cale did not usually dreamt of things like this, it was rare, and it was occasionally when he was having a bad day. But it seems to real that Cale can't help but twitch at the slightest sound while having his eyes closed. This paranoia annoyed him to the core, and ended up having to stay up late.

Reading whatever was there to entertain himself, even holding Rye's huggable toys as he watches over his little sun in his crib. Ha, he hates it when nightmares like that come. He never dreams too much, too. If ever there was a peaceful sleep, all he'll ever remember is sitting in a deep-end, bottomless abyss with abounding echoes.

The coldness would always prickle his skin in the slightest ways. Cale thought that slumber is really similar to death. He wonders, if ever he actually slept too long and his heart was as weak, would he have died like that?

Cale shook his head, he should really stop thinking about death... it's almost as if he is romaticising the idea of it. Ueh, his mother in the painting would surely scold him for it.

With the night's silence and the cold wind's breezy hush, his sensitive ears caught wind of a small babble. Turning around in one deft movement, Cale sees a small little boy trying to push himself up with his chubby and short hands.

Giggling cheekily, the redhead approached the child and helped him to sit: "why is my sun up at night, hm? you might cause an eclipse!"

"Bweee-" Rye huffs at him, the glance sent to him was full of judgement that seemed to be asking on how he can be so... dicey. Cale chuckles as he shook his head, surely he doesn't even mind that disrespectful gaze on him. Ah, like father like son indeed.

"Now, why are you up? Little boys like you need to sleep so you can grow." Cale said as he sat on the mattress, the bed dipped slightly from his weight. His red-brown eyes watch as the small little boy drop his head on his side, a small tug pulls from the ends of his lips.

He puts a hand around Rye to keep him steady: "Did you notice my absence? Is that why you can't sleep?"

It wasn't strange. Not at all. If anything, Cale finds it warm and comfortable to have a bundle in his hands to hold. It's also comforting for him and a reminder that the bed isn't as cold, and besides, Rye loves to cuddle something that is warm.

The silence stretched for a moment before a tug comes for his hem. He waited to see what Rye would like to say through actions.

The small red nods his head and moved his fingers to display his words.