It'd been a little over two days since Gabriel's abduction, and the police had yet to find his location, even though they held Camille and her acolytes in custody. It was driving Misha crazy, rendering his already short temper even shorter. No one dared to approach him without a good reason, not even his parents. His sister, too, stayed at a safe distance.
The only one who could somewhat approach him was Tristan, but even then, the boy was cautious around him, weighing his words whenever he had to open his mouth.
Like now.
Tristan put a hand on Misha's shoulder, craning his neck to let him know he wanted to speak in his ear. There were too many people around, adults he knew and didn't know, and the words he had to say weren't exactly something he wanted them to hear. Even if they would most likely be brushed off as the delusion of a child, Tristan still didn't feel like handling the adults' concerns afterward, especially not after his recent surgery.
Misha, aware of the child's predicament, complied and bent over to allow him to whisper in his ear.
"Don't worry too much. From what I've seen, Gabriel is well-fed. He's not free to roam around, but unlike us, he has been moved to a good room with a bed and a portable toilet. He's fine. Bored, but fine."
"Even if he's fine right now, what does that matter?! That asshole has given us a three-day delay, and that's almost over! I don't—"
"Hum," Tristan tentatively cut him off, "Pierrot kind of called the police to tip them off earlier? So, they should be preparing to storm his hideout soon. Don't look at me like that. The prick decided to transmit the information into my brain. He's so annoyingly petty."
"…Seriously? And the police didn't tell us?"
Tristan shrugged. He had access to Pierrot's memory, not the memory of the officers in charge of the case. They either told Angela and Matthew, and his parents didn't see the need to relay the message, or they decided to keep quiet for whatever reason. He couldn't tell. To start with, it wasn't like he knew how police officers handled such cases. Unlike his parents, he hadn't been privy to the debriefing.
On the bright side, Tristan could tell Pierrot had no intention whatsoever to harm Gabriel, which alleviated the anxiety a lot on his side. But even if he told the others, they couldn't believe him and stayed wary, understandably so.
"What are you two whispering about?"
Misha snapped his head toward the stern voice, meeting with Matthew's cold gaze. Up until now, he had barely crossed paths with the man despite visiting his house pretty much every week in the last few years. The only one he had truly interacted with had been Angela.
If Misha could meet him today, it was only because he and his family had been generously allowed to stay at the Laflamme house during the investigation, thanks to Tristan's pleading.
—Angela was weak to the boy's teary eyes, and a few right words thrown here and there were all that was needed to convince her.
Being in the same room as Matthew felt strange. Misha knew the man well; they'd been planning his downfall for a long time, after all. Only, he never spoke to him. Now that he did, it felt unsettling. Matthew wasn't only a blurry picture in his mind anymore. He was fleshed out with a voice and even some expressions.
"Nothing much, father," Tristan answered, snapping Misha out of his thoughts. "We were just talking about what to do once Gaby is back home. I thought we could go out to eat something! Because, I mean, we haven't eaten at the restaurant in a long time!"
Offering his most innocent smile, Tristan tilted his head. He was good at pretending not to understand how serious the situation was, and how his brother might never make it home. He put up the front of a child who didn't know better and didn't comprehend the severity of what was going on, interpreting things in the weird way kids often do. It was like he knew his brother had been kidnapped, but hadn't even considered the possibility that Gabriel might be found injured or dead.
'…Did his brothers teach him how to act?' was the fleeting thought that crossed Misha's mind. Because Tristan's acting was convincing, even to him who knew the truth.
"…Right. You can ask your mother for that later. If you will excuse me."
With that said, Matthew continued on his way to the table, where some police officers were seated with Angela, who was shedding crocodile tears in Gulnas's arms. It made Misha's mouth twitch. That annoying wrench… He was goddamn sure she couldn't care less whether Gabriel was ever found. Or yet again, found dead.
If Angela had been truly worried about him, she would have been hysterical by now, not calmly crying in his mother's arms. That was how she showed her affection, as she had so well demonstrated with the poor medical staff tasked with taking care of Tristan before his surgery.
Also, if Masha hadn't contacted the police in her rights as Gabriel's girlfriend, Misha knew Angela and Matthew wouldn't have contacted them, just as they hadn't when Jake, Tristan, and he had been abducted.
Misha took a deep breath.
There was no point in snapping at Angela right now. It would only make things messier. So, he went outside to take a breather.
The cold air assaulted his lungs, and the freezing doorsteps prickled his butt. He didn't mind, however, and stared at the driveway. It was packed full of cars.
…Was that how Gabriel felt when he learned about his abduction? No, probably not. It was far worse back then. He had no information about his well-being and even received Jake's eyeball on his doorstep. It must have been much more stressful at the time. Yet, Gabriel never mentioned it. It was always like that.
"You're going to catch a cold, Misha."
A warm coat was put over his shoulders as his father's voice traveled to his ears. Alexey had taken some time off from work, even after being threatened with being fired if he didn't show up. Misha hadn't been able to wipe out of his mind Alexey's cold answer, as he had been near him when he was on the phone with his superior.
It had been two simple words: Please do.
Misha had been left dumbstruck. His father had snapped at his superior, daring to talk back when he never had before. He told his wife that he might need to find another job next week, to which Gulnas had said that it was fine. They had a bit of savings and could do for a while.
It made it hard for Misha to get annoyed at his parents, whatever they did now.
"…I'm not that frail. I won't catch a cold just because it's a little chilly outside."
The words were grumbled, but Misha didn't throw the coat off. Instead, he wrapped it more tightly around his body. Meanwhile, his father sat beside him on the cold doorstep. He didn't wear a coat, as he had given his to his son.
Alexey didn't say anything, and a silence settled between them. Although his relationship with his father was worlds apart in this life compared to the last, they still weren't all that close.
In the end, Misha didn't have it in him to open up to his father. The shadow of his abusive, drunkard self still hung around him, no matter how much he tried to convince himself that it didn't.
"Do you need to talk?" Alexey asked after a few seconds.
"No, of course not. Why would I need to talk? You should go see Masha. She's the one who has it hard right now."
Misha pinched his lips. He wasn't Gabriel's official lover, so he couldn't afford to show how much this affected him. Thankfully, he was known to be overly close and clingy to his sister's boyfriend. It gave him some leeway.
"I don't think so."
The words stuck Misha as odd. He felt his body stiffen as he peered at his father, who responded with a gentle but knowing smile. Misha could feel the blood drain from his face, earning him a quirked eyebrow.
Alexey slowly stretched a hand, making sure he saw it, before ruffling his hair.
"Next time you and your sister want to talk about your love life in private, close the door. This old man has a poor bladder and needs to go to the toilet at night quite often lately."
You got to be shitting me. His heart drummed at his temples as Misha frantically tried to find something to say to deny what his father implied, even though the horrified expression on his face had already betrayed him.
"W-what about m-mom?"
In the end, that's all Misha could say.
"Your mother doesn't know yet. Tell me when you want to tell her. She… Well, she might not take it too well."
"A-and you?"
"Why should I care about my children's partners' gender? I'm not the one bedding them." The crude words stunned Misha, even more than his father's talkback to his superior. It wasn't anything he'd have ever expected from him. But did he even know the man…? He'd been running away from him for so long already, drawing a line between them. If anything, he knew nothing about his father.
Or at the very least, his father in this life.
A sigh escaped Alexey, and an unfathomable emotion twirled in the depths of his eyes.
"All I want is for my kids to be happy. Although I admit, if I hadn't heard you complain about how Gabriel had a stick up his ass and refused to even allow a kiss before your eighteenth birthday, I might not have taken it as well. He is way older than you, and you're still so young… But let's keep that discussion for another time."
Alexey paused, looking at his son with concern. His hand, which had been busy ruffling his hair, slipped down to his shoulder.
"Misha, are you alright?"
"No… No, I'm not."
The simple question broke the dam. Misha felt his father drag him into his arms to offer a hug, and he didn't resist despite the nausea assaulting him. He allowed the embrace as he broke down crying in his father's arms.
"What if… What if he doesn't make it back? D-dad, I'm scared. So, so scared…"
To this, Alexey didn't offer any empty words or hopeful promises. Instead, he patted him on the back, offering a shoulder to cry on.