Ch 18

3.3K 103 704
                                    

Michael studied the bowl of oatmeal in his lap blankly, there was no appetite at all behind that magenta eye. His hands were folded in front of his chest with his back pressed against the soft back of the sofa, while his right leg rested on his left thigh, his ears caught the sound of cartoons being played on the television by the youngest. In his brain right now, Mark's words from yesterday were echoing, that he couldn't repeat the same mistake to his husband. He knew very well. Making his ex had to open his mouth about this felt embarrassing.

He had also tried, but why would he disappoint his husband again just for an old friend? Just because they had a history together in the past, even though it was short, their memories were quite ... memorable, if he could say so. Really, he just missed Jeremy as a close friend, there were no other feelings involved, the romance towards Jeremy had been gone since he met Ennard. He should've acted more firmly, there was denial inside him that those feelings were still attached to Jeremy, all this time he had only thought positively. But again, Mark's words really hit him in the face.

A soft sigh escaped his mouth, he pushed the bowl of oatmeal off his thigh onto the coffee table in front of him, his head throbbing slightly with pain at the thought of one thing. Hands flew to massage the base of his forehead after taking off his glasses, the second sigh came out heavier. Coffee, he needs coffee.

He moved his body forcefully from his seat on the sofa, dragging his feet towards the kitchen. It seemed like there was still hot water left in the thermos, he didn't need to bother boiling any more water, so he took a porcelain cup from the top shelf in the kitchen along with two jars containing coffee powder and sugar. Without sugar it seemed more soothing, he put the jar of sugar he took back in its original place. He poured the coffee grounds three times using a teaspoon, then pulled the thermos near the sink—who put the thermos there?—and opened the lid. Steam came out as soon as he opened the thermos lid and spilled water into the cup carefully.

His hand stirred the contents of the cup with the same teaspoon. He slept a little last night, nightmares about his siblings' deaths, nothing new. Taking a quick puff of the coffee he had just brewed, he brought his lips to the edge of the cup and took a sip of the dark black liquid, a sharp, bitter taste immediately assaulting his taste buds. The feeling was enough to make him feel calmer, his mind clear again. His eyes rolled to the figure caught in his vision when he drank the coffee for the second time.

"Father," he quickly called, hand placing the cup on the dining table abruptly, the contents almost spilling. He approached his father who turned to him while fixing his shirt collar. "Are you sure you will go alone in court today? Last trial, what if something happens again? I can go with you, or at least take Papa." Without further ado he expressed concern, the man had indeed told them last night that they didn't need to come with him.

"The trial is probably only about ten minutes." His father cleared his throat as if to stop himself from scoffing, or chuckling. "It won't be long, especially since Alexis knows what they're planning today. We will win the trial, you don't need to worry, son."

He couldn't help but be anxious, his gaze skeptical. "Will Uncle Henry be there too?" The last time he heard, his father's friend was sick.

"He said he would attend it." Father shrugged his shoulders. "It seems like he's recovered, I don't know." He saw that the second layer of his father's illusion disc was active, there were no burns on the man's face, only the old scar on his cheek that he had given at their reunion. "Anyway, like what I said earlier, you don't need to worry. I'll probably be home in an hour. Two hours tops." The prototype hand patted his shoulder as a comforting gesture, he then saw a black-haired man walked into the same area and caught his father's attention.

"You know Michael has a point." He heard his papa speak, the pair of glowing purple eyes focused on him for a moment before returning to his father. "I can accompany you, or Mike."

It Won't Be That BadWhere stories live. Discover now