I Am Mr. Hyde

Ⅴ ♛ 𝕽𝖚𝖓 𝖆𝖜𝖆𝖞, 𝖑𝖎𝖛𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖋𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖉𝖆𝖞

A month passed by like a fleeting train. Layla and Tristan visited Dimash twice a week. With the help of Layla, Tristan's piano skills had improved a lot within the past weeks, though, Dimash had to admit the boy already had a knack for it. He had a good sense of rhythm and some musical creativity that made Dimash excited. This boy could actually be capable of entering any musical profession in the future.

Mr. Hyde had been continuing his crime spree by night and every single one of the kills was imprinted in Dimash's memory. Sometimes afterimages occurred when Dimash was trying to catch some sleep. Those invincible demons were summoned whenever he dared to close his eyelids that got heavier day by day. He hoped for some good night's sleep and often his prayers were accepted. Sometimes, he woke up suffering from a hangover which was completely new for him. Mr. Hyde frequented pubs even more than before, and he used to drink more also.

But apart from his struggles, Dimash felt happier than before.

One time after the lesson when they were discussing Tristan's progress over lunch, Dimash was asked a profound question. "Why do you always compose emotional songs that carry such a deep meaning?" the boy inquired with innocent eyes. He was untouched by the darkness and embraced with blossoming happiness. It was something Dimash never wanted to deprive.

"I like songs that have an actual meaning", he replied neutrally, picking at his food half-heartedly. "Contemporary music often deals with trivial topics. I just want to give people some food for thought." The music reflected him and his miserable life. Why would he burden others with his trouble?

Layla snorted quietly, not accepting his explanation. To Dimash's luck, she said nothing, just digging into her food. "Good grief, Dimash!" she exclaimed while simultaneously making munching sounds. Dimash found it extremely adorable, yet he would have to clean all the bread crumbs falling onto the floor afterwards. "I'm seriously jealous of your cooking skills! Maybe I should travel to Kazakhstan to learn to make all this by myself."

Dimash averted his gaze bashfully, a pink tint growing on his porcelain cheeks. He hated to admit it, but this girl affected him more than he wanted. "It was just an old recipe of my mom", he muttered in embarrassment.

"Ooh. I didn't know you liked each other in that way", Tristan wondered, cunning blue eyes as wide as a plate, small mouth forming an "o". His hand had stopped halfway towards his mouth, a slice of potato speared by fork was hanging in the air.

Dimash was sure his flushing had deepened into the tone of a tomato. Damn kids, they just say what's on their mind. "Don't jump into conclusions, Tristan", he mumbled and ruffled the raven hair seemingly casually. Beneath the surface, he was actually battling against the storm of his own feelings. "Adults do plenty of things kids like you won't understand. Life's not that simple."

"But my mom said - "

"Tristan, why don't you fetch me my phone? I'll have to make a call." Obedient Tristan immediately heaved his little body out of the chair.

"I'm sure you have something in mind?" Layla chuckled softly when Tristan was out of earshot. This time, she clothed in an all-green attire, dark hair was tied in a bun with a moss green ribbon, and eyelids were painted with a matching tint. When it came to Dimash, he preferred baggy clothes over trendy ones. But he appreciated Layla's good sense of fashion.

Dimash shrugged apologetically. "Yeah, I've got to pay a visit to Jace today. I haven't thanked him for the concert."

* * *

Was he too suspicious, or even delusional? A little niggling in the back of his head raised a red flag for him. Three suspicious guys had been tracking him for a few minutes, he could hear their far-off footsteps adapted to his pace. Dimash was striding down a shadowy, narrow, cobblestoned alley where he had originally stopped over in hope of detour. Now he cursed for his own stupidity. Jace had offered him a lift home but Dimash had politely refused, wanting to have some fresh air since the fug of his apartment had been giving him the pip.