Sweet Devil [BL]

Chapter 6. The Sister

"How come our lil' devil still sleeps with his mother? Didn't you say you were too old for that?"

When the half-asleep Misha heard the mocking voice, he flung open his eyes and dashed out of his bed, suddenly wide awake. He pounced on the teenage girl standing in the door frame before she could react, wrapping his arms and legs around her waist. The boy then hung around her like a koala, refusing to let go.

"What? Did you miss me that much?" Masha chuckled, raking one hand through his hair until his head looked like a bird's nest. The other hand was busy supporting the boy's weight—her brother was petite, but he wasn't exactly weightless. "Mish', it has only been one night!"

Misha turned a deaf ear to her teasing and didn't retort, knowing that he'd bawl his eyes out again if he were to open his mouth right now. Thus, he only nodded and tightened his grip, burying his head in the crook of her neck.

"He had a bad dream," Gulnas explained as she made the bed. "And it seems to have been a nasty one."

"Oh, I see. So even devils have nightmares," Masha teased, poking her brother's cheek. "You learn something every day!"

"Hn," Misha let out a sound of acknowledgment.

"But like it or not, you'll have to get off of me and take a bath! We've got a busy day today, so hop, hop, hop!" Masha tried to pull her brother off, but he didn't budge, leaving them in a deadlock. "I don't remember having a leech as a brother! Come on, get down!"

Misha pursed his lips, his hug tightening. "I don't want to take a bath...."

"Why?" Gulnas asked, puzzled. "You love to take baths!"

Her son was the kind of child that could stay in the bathtub for hours, happily playing with the foam, the water, or the rubber ducks until he turned into a prune. Every time he stepped out of the bathtub, his tiny hands and feet were wrinkly and sickly white, almost like some weird paste. Getting him out had always been an ordeal, and now that mermaid boy didn't want to take a bath...?

"I don't like it anymore," Misha grumbled, his voice so small that his sister almost didn't hear him, even though he was glued to her.

"Why?"

"I just don't like it anymore!" Misha groaned, peering at them with watery eyes.

That pitiful expression tugged at their heartstrings, and they both fell silent instantly. Forget it. If he didn't want to take a bath, they wouldn't force him to take one.

"..."

It wasn't like Misha wanted to throw a tantrum right off the bat, but he absolutely couldn't take a bath. He knew that the moment he slid into the water, he'd panic. Then, not long after, he'd be barfing all the content in his stomach on the floor. Honestly, he'd be lucky if he didn't straight out faint at the sight of the bathtub.

After such a scene, his family would of course worry, and several questions would arise. But it wasn't like he could answer any of their inquiries, and he also didn't want to.

No matter how many years flew by, Misha couldn't forget the horrible sight of his sister's corpse floating in a blood bath. The rotten scent, the eerie silence, and the oppressive heat from the radiator, which hadn't been turned off; he remembered it all, and the simple view of a bathtub tended to bring that memory up. Thus, the bath was out of the question.

"Can I take a shower instead?"

"Sure, why not. As long as you wash yourself clean," Masha shrugged before sticking out her tongue, "It's gonna be faster anyway, but you better hurry up, or we'll have to leave without you! Don't forget, it's my birthday today, and I don't want to waste my time waiting for you, little princess!"