Misha slouched on the kitchen chair, his head thrown backward as he absently stared at the ceiling. His eyes looked glassy, and a lifeless expression loomed over his face. He did not care that dinner was ready, set on the table before him, nor did he care about his parents' worried gazes. He barely even registered them, for his mind was elsewhere.
'I should have waited before reading that goddamn message,' Misha wryly thought, gritting his teeth with so much strength that it felt like they were about to shatter. He snorted to himself, 'I won't be able to eat anything for the next few hours, that's for sure.'
Usually, Misha never checked his phone when eating, but he made an exception today when a 'ding' echoed. Gabriel had sent him a message, and he couldn't restrain himself from reading it right away as he had been waiting for news of Tristan for three days already. Although he knew what to expect, the content nevertheless pierced his heart. He had no appetite left whatsoever. If anything, the sight of his meal made his stomach churn, and the idea of forcefully pushing the food down his throat made him involuntarily gag. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, Gabriel's message distressed him so much that it physically affected him to the point where his whole digestive system was revolting against him. The anxiety had already twisted his bowels into knots these past few days, and now…
Now, everything was a mess. The pit of his stomach might as well be a volcano.
"What did Gabriel say?" Masha asked, snapping Misha back to reality. She pushed her dinner aside and bent over the table, drawing nearer to her brother. She wasn't very hungry, either. "What's going to happen next?"
Gulnas and Alexey said nothing but stretched their ears. Even if they didn't show it as openly as their children, they were just as anxious. The Laflamme brothers were more often than not at their house, and they had developed a deep relationship with them, especially with Tristan. This child was so cute and lovely that they couldn't help but spoil him rotten. It was like having a grandkid on whom to dote. Their own kids were too old or too mature to be babied, and so their pampering habit fell upon the boy. Everyone in the Lesskov family was very fond of Tristan, and all of them were worried to death for him, although they each showed it differently. Misha's parents were trying to appear more emotionally stable to be their children's pillars, but it was as hard on them. Still, they did a good job of hiding their uneasiness, as Misha hadn't caught on yet.
"They chose to go with the surgery," Misha answered after a moment of silence, then paused to bite his bottom lip. "He has a few more tests to go through, but the date has been scheduled."
"When?"
"On my birthday," Misha laughed wryly, feeling drained. "He should be going into surgery early in the morning, and we'll know how it went in the evening at the latest. It'll either be the best gift of my life or the worst."
And here, he had been overly excited about his upcoming birthday these past few weeks. Now, not so much. Depending on how the surgery went, it'd either become the most tragic or the most wonderful day of the year. At that point, if he could trade every gift he had ever or would ever receive for his birthdays for a successful surgery, he would. If something went wrong, he knew he'd never be able to celebrate his birthday again. It'd be too painful.
"Do you want to spend the day at the hospital?" Masha asked gently.
"Yeah, definitely," Misha answered without beating a beat before pausing for a moment, an unpleasant thought seemingly passing through his mind. His nose crunched as he grimaced, "I'm not sure his mother will allow it, though."
"Well," Alexey raised an eyebrow, his steady voice resounding throughout the kitchen, "she can't say anything if you wait in the car in the parking lot. The medical staff can't complain, either."
"Right," Gulnas smiled softly. "As far as I know, there's no rule forbidding you from waiting in the parking lot as long as you pay for it. You're not overcrowding the waiting area or being in the way. There should be no problem."
"And for the record, I'm pretty sure Gabriel can sweet talk that witch into letting you meet Tristan after the surgery," Masha nodded, ignoring the warning look her mother threw her way. Gulnas wasn't fond of her blatant display of hatred for Angela. Although she also didn't hold the woman in her heart, it wasn't polite to belittle her continuously. At the end of the day, she was still Tristan's mother, and they should show her a minimum of decorum, if only for the boy's sake. But Masha didn't pay any heed to her mother, who was unaware that Angela's very own sons wanted her gone. She continued with a wave of her hand, "In the unlikely event that Gabriel fails to convince her, I'm sure Tristan will be able to. The kid has mastered the art of throwing fits these past few years, thanks to a certain someone."
"Are you insinuating that I'm a bad influence?"
"There's no insinuation here. You are a bad influence."
"Come on, I can't be as bad as Stephan!"
The grumped complaint had the merit of drawing laughter and easing people's nerves. It was strange how, somehow, throwing Stephan under the bus always managed to lift the mood. He was the perfect punching bag that helped release people's built-up tension, even when he wasn't physically present.
***
Tristan poked the pudding in the plastic box with a spoon, his lips slightly pursed. Deep down, he felt horrible. It was already awful that he was putting his loved ones through so much because of his health, but now that the day of the surgery fell upon Misha's birthday, he wanted to scream at the Heavens. He knew just how much Misha had been excited and preparing for the big day, and he felt like he had poured an ice-cold bucket of water over his friend's head. There was no way in hell Misha was going to celebrate his birthday with what was happening. He wouldn't have the heart to. Tristan had a hunch he'd spent the day at the hospital waiting for news, regardless of what Angela said. Misha was like that: one-track-minded and stubborn as a mule. If someone dear to him was having a difficult time, he couldn't think of anything else but them. He thought of others too much.
"Stop playing with your food and eat something," Jake's voice snapped his little brother out of his brooding. "You have to be in peak health for the surgery, and that starts with eating well. Stop starving yourself. It won't help."
The words sounded harsh yet caring. Tristan lifted his eyes and peered at his brother, who was sitting beside him. Gabriel and Angela weren't with them in the waiting room, busy handling documents and the medical stuff. Jake was thus on babysitting duty, sitting next to Tristan. They were waiting for the next test, and Tristan had changed into a hospital gown. As they were busy running left and right, visiting different departments located on different floors or buildings, they had to eat between two appointments and tests whenever possible.
"Even that bastard has been telling you to eat properly," Jake added when he received no answer, reminding Tristan that even the biggest jackass on Earth was telling him to take care of himself. Although his way of saying it hadn't been very gentle. "Has he been pestering you today, by the way?"
Because Jake knew Pierrot was his so-called 'chatting friend', Tristan was no longer hiding their conversations from his brother. There was no point. And, if he was honest, it felt good to talk about the conversations he had with Pierrot with someone, even if they had to do so in secret. He didn't want anyone else to find out, as he wasn't confident enough to face them yet. Jake had lived through similar things, so he was more or less at ease with him. Still, Tristan hesitated this time, which earned him a raised eyebrow from his brother. A few more seconds passed before Tristan finally put aside his half-eaten pudding and rummaged through his bag to pick up his cell phone. Again, he seemed to hesitate, chewing on his lower lip and fidgeting, but he ultimately unlocked the screen and handed the phone to Jake.
"See for yourself."
Frowning, Jake took the phone and scrolled to Pierrot's contact. He then proceeded to pass through their latest conversation, and as he did, he felt his mouth twitch.
'Stop brooding over the surgery date. Those intrusive thoughts are getting annoying: I don't want to hear them. So what if Misha's birthday doesn't go as he had planned? He can always fuck Gabriel another time. He won't die for that. Stop feeling guilty and concentrate on getting better instead.'
"...I swear, this guy has no delicacy whatsoever. But he has a point. Don't feel guilty. It's not your fault, and Misha can have his lovey-dovey time later. What matters right now is your surgery and your recovery. I'm sure this is far more important to Misha."
"I know," Tristan pouted. "But he has been waiting for years for his 18th birthday, and you saw how excited he was these past few weeks! Like, he has always been an open-book but never this open. The lecherous, infatuated glances he's been throwing at Gabriel are way too obvious! And here I am, scrapping all of his plans."
"What plans?" Gabriel's voice traveled to them, startling the two. They snapped their heads toward their brother, eyes and ears alert, almost like deer in front of car lights. But it didn't take long before they heaved a sigh of relief and relaxed their shoulders. Angela was nowhere in sight, and Gabriel was making his way to their row of seats. There weren't many people in the area here, but Jake and Tristan were nevertheless whispering. Hence, they deduced the only thing Gabriel could hear was Tristan's last word.
"Tristan's plans after the surgery," Jake lied with a straight face. "There are a few things he would like to do, and we were discussing what to do first."
"Oh, like what?"
Tristan clenched his fists and nudged Jake with his elbow. What the heck was he saying? He had no plan whatsoever! The only thing he had been able to think of lately was that he'd rather die on the surgery table than have it fail. He didn't want to turn into a stranger. No, he wanted to either stay himself or drop dead. He didn't think of what he wanted to do afterward. With that in mind, he had no idea what to answer, but just as he was about to glare at Jake, it drew upon him what he was doing. This brother of his was trying to give him goals and distract his troubled mind. It was true he had been overly negative and pessimistic these past few days, swallowed in a despair of his own making. It wasn't like him.
Maybe… Maybe he could allow himself to think of a future in which the surgery was successful. It didn't hurt to dream, even if only for a moment.
"Come on, tell us, what would you like to do after the surgery is a success?"
The boy hesitated an instant, chewing on his bottom lip. It took him a few minutes before mustering the courage to whisper:
"…A surprise party for Misha's birthday, for starters."
"That sounds like a great plan," Gabriel nodded, ruffling his little brother's fluffy hair.
"We already know what to give Misha to make him happy, don't we?" Jake snorted, sizing up Gabriel, who stood before them. "We just need some ruban and a bow."
"You do know I'm human and not an object you can give to others willy-nilly, right?"
"Are you now? Because your robot-like mannerisms led me to the conclusion that you're an android, not a human. As far as I know, androids have no human rights."
"We still have worker rights, don't we?'
A smile slowly bloomed on Tristan's face as he listened to his big brothers' banter. It was a genuine smile, one he hadn't shown in a long time. Maybe it was alright to believe everything would be fine and not wallow in self-hatred. In this life, his brothers were there for him, weren't they? So, what could go wrong?