Sweet Devil [BL]

Chapter 1. Happy Christmas Eve

The crystal clear blue eyes swept swiftly around the cemetery. A thin layer of snow covered the ground, draping in white the paved pathways winding between the tombs and the sepultures. The bare trees whistled when the cold wind blew, and the old, broken church creaked. Even the sky had turned into a grayish-white color, almost as if it was mourning.

The desolate scenery was mirrored in the man's eyes as he walked to his family grave. When he laid a bouquet of roses at its foot, the deep blood red flowers vividly stood out in this field of white. The grave seemed to bleed from far away, tainting the snow in a sad yet beautiful way.

"Hi mom, hi sis'. How have you been?" the man said, crouching to clean the snow off the grave. Even though he knew the light snowfall would soon cover it up again, he couldn't help it. "Hope it's not too cold down there."

As the words left his mouth, he lowered his eyes at the names carved in the pale gray stone. A tired smile stretched his lips, and his gaze grew tender.

Masha Lesskov, 1988-2010

Gulnas Brown, 1968-2004

It had been years since their deaths, but the ache in his heart still hadn't faded. The pain of losing them was the same as always, tearing him apart whenever the memory of his mother's smiling face or sister's laughter surfaced in his mind. It made him feel pathetic, but these two had been a central pillar of his life, and without them, everything crumbled. Even to this day, he couldn't forget the distress he felt at their funerals, nor could he forgive that man for driving them to their deaths. Sometimes, he couldn't help but wonder what he could have done differently. Maybe they'd still be alive if he'd been less of a self-centered brat.

The wind howled, and the icy snowflake whipped his rosy cheeks. The man tugged his scarf upward to cover his nose, then took a deep breath and mumbled:

"Guess what? I'm still working at that bar I told you about last time. It's been a couple of months now, and the boss still hasn't thrown me out. It's quite a miracle, as you know. You could say that working on my temper has paid off a little; I don't get into fights with the clients, even when they annoy the hell out of me! I keep my anger down and somehow manage to smile."

'Yep. I'm not beating those jerks at my workplace, but in the back alley after work,' the man inwardly added, refraining himself from saying it aloud.

"So, I hope you're proud of me. Your 'little' Misha has finally grown up a bit."

The man bit his trembling lips, feeling the tears welling up. He had always hated being called 'little one', but now, he'd give everything to hear them gently mock the delicate build he had as a kid. Well, not like he had anything left of 'petite' anymore, for he had grown up into a man nearly six feet tall.

"Anyway, happy Christmas Eve!" Misha giggled as he took a flask out of his coat pockets. He solemnly toasted before drinking a sip of vodka, closing his eyes to savor the strong taste and enjoy the burning sensation in his throat.

After another sip, Misha let go of the flask and placed it near the roses. At the same time, he glanced askance at the bouquet of tulips lying beside the grave. Sure enough, the tulips were there again this year, and once again, he didn't bump into that mysterious 'giver of flowers'. They had been laying a bouquet of tulips on his family grave every December 24th, his mother's death anniversary. Then, on January 1st, that person would bring another bouquet and lay it beside the first one. That day was the day his sister died.

Misha didn't think much of it at first, but his curiosity eventually got the better of him. He did try to ambush them a few times, but they never showed up every time he waited for them at the gate. Instead, they came the next day when he was working or sleeping, leaving a bouquet of tulips before vanishing for another year.