The Unthought Fate [MxM]

Chapter 5

    Vlad

 Lying in my bed, waiting to surrender to sleep, I am reviewing my encounter with Calum.

He is a very interesting individual, with an equally interesting situation.

It seems he is alone—an eleven-year-old boy by himself, during a war! He is just like me, hiding and running, just without the loving protection of an adult.

He wasn't very generous with details, but I could pick up a few things. He told me his mother taught him how to braid his hair, so maybe she was a witch. But somehow she is no longer around, and I didn't ask more about it because I could tell it wasn't something he wanted to elaborate on.

He said absolutely nothing about a father figure, so either they are estranged or he is dead, and like with his mother, I didn't feel curious enough to ask further.

Calum is a walking contradiction in my eyes. He has a gentle voice, is soft-spoken, but his gaze seems cold and rather dangerous. When I shook his hand, I felt both safety and fear at the same time.

I really don't know what to think about him, but he intrigues me, and I can't stop my mind from making ludicrous theories. What if he is an undercover little warlock on a mission to find shelters and destroy them? What if he is a smooth criminal who lures his victims with innocence and strikes when you least expect it? What if he is a runaway warlock from a powerful family that wants to use him as a pawn in this war?

From my bed, I can see Calum sitting with his back to me in his own warm sheets. He has the top bed like me, but there is another empty one between us.

While looking at him, I can't stop my mind from wondering: will he kill me in my sleep? Will we be attacked?

Thankfully, my eyes have other plans and start getting heavier and heavier, and sleep eventually comes.

Eric's hand is gently rubbing my shoulder in an attempt to wake me up, but my eyes are still stubbornly refusing to open.

"Good morning, sleepyhead!" I hear Dad say, his hand still softly stroking my shoulder. "Well, it's not really morning anymore, but it doesn't matter," he adds with a chuckle.

That does the job, and I get up immediately. "What?" is my response, my voice not getting the memo to wake up. I'm not dead! is my first thought.

The next second, my eyes search for Calum, but his bed is empty.

My dad sees where I'm looking and tells me, "He left early in the morning. I hope he will be alright," he says, concern in his voice.

My dad always thinks of others. Even if Calum is a total stranger to him, he automatically extends his fatherly instincts and tries to take care of the kid.

That news digs a deep hole in my heart, and I don't know why. I just met him last night and we only exchanged a couple of words—nothing much. It's not like we were best friends who abandoned me, but it still feels like it.

Perhaps I feel embarrassed about my previous thoughts: him killing me in my sleep or being a criminal mastermind. I'm ashamed for thinking like that after sleeping peacefully the whole night, but my mind has its own personality and I can't control it.

Eric sees my dejected look and tries to comfort me with a small pat on my shoulder.

"Come on, little warrior. Let's eat something so we can go and search for a safer shelter for the winter. If we find one close enough to this village, maybe we can return here sometimes, and possibly you will see Calum again."

His words should make me feel better, but my gut tells me I won't see Calum soon—if ever.

A little disappointed with how the morning starts, I get out of bed, take a hot shower (because why not), get ready for departure, and go to eat.