Mafioso, No More (Book 2)

10

3rd POV

Small rays of sunlight sipped in the clear glass window panes. A new day broke and welcomed the small frame body that stirred lightly inside the spotless spacious room.

A morning stretch was carried out lazily which eventually followed by a long soft yawn. It seems the little boarder was sleep deprived from the last night.

As the warm light accidentally touched those sunken cheeks, a groaned escaped from the occupant's thin lips. Those pale ocean blue eyes squinted as they adjusted to the brightness of the morning sun.

Considering the rather pallid countenance, it could only be surmised that the person has been ill and hasn't been stepping out to enjoy the comforting sunshine and the cooling breeze of the wind.

The groggy patient could only content himself (much to his dismay) to be an everyday spectator of the nature's beauty. The sick closed his eyes once again and pleasantly hummed as he heard the chirping of birds singing in the distant.

Despite the turn of events and his blank future (for he really doesn't know what will come ahead), the warm soothing feelings made him somehow grateful. The lady luck has been merciful and still takes pity on him.

"Another idle day..." The hat lover whispered to himself.

A sound of hasty heels interrupted his merry thoughts and instantly put him in a pleghmatic mood.

"Chuuya, you're awake."

Those lightly colored azure gems slowly fluttered. The petite ginger carefully examined his surrounding. There stood the young man who stared at him with an annoyed expression.

"It's still early for you to sound irritated. " The wine lover remarked with an impassive tone. "Did something happen again?"

The young raven moved closed to the side table and rummaged something inside the drawer. He gently put the small rectangular box at the lap of his observer.

"You better wear your spectacle first. I don't want to speak to an almost blind man." The visitor then responded.

With a sigh of resignation, the ginger complied and put on his pair of eyeglasses.

"There, happy now?"

"Hardly."

A frown graced the face of the hatrack. "You haven't answer my question, Ren."

The Death God scooted over to his vessel's side and rested his head on his guardian's shoulder. "Nothing happened. It's always the same. I'm stuck up with that obsessive psycho in his dark lab doing bunch of crazy experiments. That quack doctor hasn't been successful in finding ways to regain you eyesight. Can I just kill him?" He grumbled.

The brat automatically received a flick on his forehead which made him winced in pain.

"Why do you always resort to the worst bloody case scenario?" The older man reproached.

"Why can't I? He's the cause of this whole mayhem." Ren stated bitterly as he rubbed the placed where he was hit. The young man's gently pressed the cold hand of his guardian sending warmness into it.

The skinship and closed proximity were not entirely foreign and uncomfortable unlike before. Chuuya got accustomed to the wielder's gravity clinginess. This sudden act of 'softness' (if that's the right thing to label it) is a hint that something very unusual happened. And since our protagonist doesn't like to be keep in the shadows for long, he is inclined to press the subject further.

"Ren..." The once gravity manipulator's voice came out hard and stern. "Stop brushing off my question. I have the right to know if the matter concerns me."