you're the little thing, my saving grace

Chapter 3

The day after the punishment, Pete barely gets out of bed, but after a couple of hours, after warming up, he comes to his senses. He doesn't know anything about the state of Vegas yet, although the vibe in the house is relatively calm, and Pete hopes that this is a good sign. After breakfast in the common dining room, he decides to ask the head of the guard a little about the kid:

"Nop, what about the boy's mom?"

They look at him sternly and suspiciously. Nop wipes his lips with a napkin and, leaning towards him, coldly replies:

"My advice to you, Pete: don't poke your nose into where you're not asked. You'll stay alive longer. Or don't you have enough problems because of the master's son?" 

Pete quietly apologizes for his curiosity and leaves the table.

For three days, Pete has been trying to figure out the news about Vegas' well-being from snatches of conversations. All he can find out is that the fever has subsided, the rash is almost gone. But the boy is still on bed rest.

What an idiot I am… Ruined a child's vacation!

Pete is ashamed. Let him do it without any malicious intent. But he is ashamed, and also insanely sorry for the unfortunate kid. Not only because of severe allergies.

On Saturday morning, Khun Kan flies to another province for two days. He has only experienced bodyguards with him, led by Nop. The rest can exhale for at least a couple of days. Pete is one of them. After practicing in the morning, he goes to the garden, finds a bench further away, and takes out a pack of cigarettes. He rarely smokes. But in the last few days, he just can't resist. Pete flicks his lighter and takes a couple of puffs. He does not have time to drop the smoldering ashes, as there is a sound from the side:

"They say at school that smoking is harmful. It damages the lungs and prevents you from breathing properly."

Pete looks up.

Vegas.

Standing over him in a white Marvel print T-shirt and shorts. The hair on his head is sticking out in different directions. The kid smiles at him, but it's kind of a sad smile.

"Really? Well, if it's harmful, then I won't."

Pete puts out his cigarette, throws it in the trash, but puts the pack in his pocket. And then he looks back at Vegas:

"How are you, baby? Is it better? How are you feeling?"

"It's okay," Vegas stands right in front of him, "and you?"

"Uh... me?"

Pete's heart stops when the baby puts his little palm on the yellow-purple mark on his cheek:

"Did my dad beat you up?"

Pete makes an effort to smile:

"No, no, it's me... it's me myself... occasionally. I was walking into the room in the dark and I miscalculated a little... I crashed into a jamb."

Vegas removes his hand and, looking down, shakes his head:

"You're lying. I'm sorry, Pete. I know he beat you up. Or he told someone to beat you up. Because of me. He beats everyone up. Me too. And he beat my mother until she died."