Sweet Devil [BL]

Chapter 8. Lost in Thought

After the meal, Masha wanted to go to the Jardin Botanique. So, they went and strolled about under the blazing sun.

Each garden had its own distinct theme that came from all around the world. Masha and Camille were particularly fond of the Chinese and Japanese gardens, having fallen in love with the architecture of the Chinese pavilions and the various bonsais put on display in a rock garden.

When the two girls weren't giggling or whispering in each other's ears, they were in awe. They asked Gabriel to take a picture every two steps, striking odd poses in front of beautiful flowers in full bloom. Sometimes, Camille and Gabriel switched places so that the couple would have a few pictures of them cuddling.

In contrast, Misha was as silent as a corpse; he also looked like one, with his lifeless eyes and pale face. He wasn't in the mood to admire the immense garden, nor did he feel like posing for the camera. He didn't run around, didn't play in the playground, and didn't even throw some fish food at the colorful koi in the pond. Anyway, feeding the fish wasn't something they were allowed to do. Not like Masha minded, however.

After seeing a picture of the pond in the pamphlet, she had come prepared and brought the fish food from their home, skillfully hiding it in her bag. 'As long as you are not caught, then who cares?' had always been his sister's motto, and she lived by it quite well. Their mother also turned a blind eye, suddenly fascinated by the cloudless sky.

While they were having fun and teased the poor fish, Misha stood there without doing anything. It wasn't like he deliberately wanted to be unfriendly, but Misha honestly couldn't concentrate on their conversation; he couldn't even afford to let his thoughts wander for too long, much less move around recklessly. He was battling with his heavy eyelids to keep his eyes open, feeling like he was about to faint. Meanwhile, the dizziness made him see double—when it wasn't triple.

The fatigue he felt before eating was now overwhelming him. It was to the point where he didn't have enough strength to talk or even look ahead. His head felt too heavy, and his neck hurt. As a result, he kept his mouth shut and his head lowered, staring at the ground and dragging his feet like a zombie.

Often, his mother would glance backward and ask if he was feeling unwell; every time, Misha said that he was fine, just a bit tired. He ate too much, that's all. But, of course, Gulnas wasn't convinced—she wasn't blind, nor was she stupid. Something was clearly off with her son: firstly, he was oddly silent and obedient, and secondly, his face had turned sickly pale over the past few hours.

Again, she frowned and asked the same old question. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"It's only too hot today, mom."

It wasn't a lie. The weather was particularly torrid, and the humidity was stupidly high. He wasn't the only one with a back drenched in sweat!

"Don't worry!" Misha puffed up his chest, trying to look imposing despite his tiny body and doll face. "I won't give in to a little bit of heat."

"I know, I know," Gulnas chuckled, gently tousling his hair before frowning. "The top of your head is really warm. A bit too much, actually...."

His mother bent over and rummaged through her backpack. After a short while, she took a lovely hat out of the bag before squatting down and putting it on her son's head. She also gave him a bottle of water in passing.

"I know you don't like wearing hats, but can you bear it for today? It'll help you cool down a little. And even if you're not thirsty, drink a lot, ok?"

"...Sure."

'I don't especially hate wearing hats, mom. I just really hate those girly hats that you have always loved to put on my head,' Misha complained in his heart as he opened the bottle and took a sip.